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Shinji could see the sigh as it left him. It coalesced into a milky puff of vapor before his eyes, clouding his vision for a second before quickly dissipating into the cold, uncaring sky. Tonight was unseasonably chilly for spring, and unusually quiet for a weekend—something he wouldn’t have minded any other time, but now, made him wish he had the presence of mind to grab his trusty old SDAT before he’d been cruelly yanked out from the comfort of his apartment. Without any music blaring in his ears, the words he’d been replaying all day rang through them even more clearly.
“I’m sorry, Shinji, but this isn’t working out.”
He sighed again. Even worse than the words themselves, was how she had said them: calmly, passionlessly, and without a hint of hesitation. It was nothing at all like the bombastic blowouts he had come to associate with breakups; there had been no screaming, no tears, no pointing fingers trying to lay blame. She had simply sat him down, looked him straight in the eyes, and told him point-blank that their relationship was over.
“W-what? Why? What did I do?”
“Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong, Shinji. I just think we’re better off seeing other people.”
She had been so nice about it, too… as nice as someone could be while telling a soon-to-be-former partner that they just didn’t like being with them anymore. Even as she made it obvious that there was no room for discussion and there was nothing he could do, not once did she say anything to him even approaching an insult. It wasn’t his fault, nor was it hers; she simply wasn’t interested in being his girlfriend anymore.
“Please, don’t be hard on yourself.”
The finality of it all was the hardest part. They were done, that was it, end of story. Quick and efficient. It was like pulling off a bandage—the faster it was done, the more brief the inevitable pain. It would sting like hell at first, but soon enough that sting would dwindle until there was nothing left of it at all, just like his breath fading into the night.
For now, though, it hurt.
“There you are,” came Asuka’s annoyed voice as she opened the bar’s front door and stepped outside. Shinji made an attempt to hide his puffy, swollen eyes with his sleeve, but it was in vain. “Oh my god. Are you crying again?”
“I-I’m not crying,” he sniffled. “I’m just… m-my nose is running because of the cold.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
Shinji looked up just in time to see Asuka roll her eyes. They met his right after, and she made a face he recognized as a grudging attempt at sympathy. “Come on, at least try to look a little less miserable. Do you think you’re the first person in the world to get dumped? It happens to everyone. Well, not me, of course, but to everyone else it does.”
“Wow. Good for you.”
She clicked her tongue. “Don’t get an attitude with me. Now, get your sorry ass back inside and try to enjoy your night instead of moping under the awning like some kind of pathetic vagrant. Unless you’d rather head back home and go back to drinking by yourself?”
Shinji had to really think about it for a minute. On one hand, no, throwing back cheap-tasting shots while trying to ignore all the giddy couples canoodling throughout the bar was not what he needed right now. Having to hear his friends give well-meaning yet trite advice about there being plenty of other fish in the sea while he was forced to sip what might as well have been paint thinner and stare at the dingy table to avoid seeing everyone else rub their happiness in his face was leaving a sour taste in his mouth—literally.
But on the other hand, he wasn’t going to feel any better cooped up in his apartment all alone with his thoughts, downing whatever alcohol was left in his fridge to escape them like he had been doing before Asuka stormed in. Neither option was good as far as he was concerned, but one was worse.
“...Fine,” he relented. “You win. I’ll come back inside.”
Not waiting for him to gather himself, Asuka snatched his wrist and wrenched him forward. “Good. I got us another round while you were out here feeling sorry for yourself. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Shinji bit his lip to avoid making his displeasure obvious. Maybe he should just let her have her way this time; if he got drunk enough, he might be able to feel an emotion other than misery for the first time in days. Even if it came at the cost of a nasty hangover, he’d take it.
The door’s bell chimed, announcing his return. It had been his choice, but coming back in still felt a bit like admitting defeat. It was as if every eye in the house was fixed on him, watching as he pitifully trudged back to his seat like a bratty child after a scolding. Though that was just his nerves talking, everyone did start to stare once Mari began yelling.
“Look who’s baaack! Didn’t think we’d see you anytime soon! Figured Asuka’d have to chase you down like a lost puppy, ” she snorted as she smacked the table, nearly sending one of the many empty little glasses in front of her careening to the floor. “Get it, Puppy-boy?”
“...Don’t worry, Mari-san. I got it.”
She was still laughing at her own joke by the time he got settled, silently grateful they’d managed to snag one of the out-of-the-way booths tucked off in the corner. The music picked up, drowning out her cackling, and all the unwanted attention shifted away as the rest of the bar’s patrons quickly lost interest in Mari’s antics.
“Yeesh, how many of these did you have? I was only gone for like a minute,” Asuka counted the glasses. “You do know these were for the whole table, right?”
“Of course I do. Our dear Rei kindly let me have her share, that’s all. I would never take anything away from you, Princess,” she winked. “Or our sweet, sad little Puppy-boy over here.
Mari pushed one of the shots toward him. “He needs ‘em the most.”
“I’ll say. I should probably get another round of these, actually,” Asuka smirked. “We’ll need some real heavy-duty stuff to keep him from running outside and blubbering again.”
“I-I told you that was because of the cold!”
“Oh, stop it. No use in trying to deny what a crybaby you are.”
She plopped down in her seat and downed one of the shots before Shinji could try to defend himself. He decided it was best to not even bother—firstly, she wasn’t wrong, and secondly, he knew better than to give in to her when she was itching to pick a fight. It was never a good idea, especially when there was absolutely no chance of him winning.
The sound of clinking glass filled the table as the quickly-disappearing shots were handily devoured. Shinji eyed them, torn over whether or not to partake before Mari and Asuka demolished them all. Now that he was sitting down, he could feel that the previous rounds were starting to catch up to him; his body was warm and heavy, but in a way that felt less like a pleasant tingle and more like he had been wading through a swamp. Maybe more would help? Or was he already at his limit? He had come here intending to get trashed enough to forget his woes for a night, but if anything they were weighing him down even more.
Before he could make a decision, Shinji felt a gentle tug at his sleeve. “Ikari-kun.”
“...Yes, Ayanami?”
Rei peered up at him curiously. Though her gaze wasn’t judgmental like Asuka’s, he still felt awkward being stared down so blatantly. He already knew he was a total wreck; he didn’t need any outside confirmation. Couldn’t he just be heartbroken in peace?
“I’d prefer that you not try to contact me anymore. I don’t think it would be good for either of us.”
A familiar sting began to prick the corners of his eyes. Not again—at least Asuka was too busy bickering with Mari to notice this time. He tilted his head down as he blinked the unshed tears away, feeling more take their place as they dried on his eyelashes. Rei tugged at his sleeve again, more insistently this time; he expected her to grill him like the others had, demand the details of his breakup like it was some sick form of entertainment. She demanded nothing, though, not even his attention. When he finally calmed down enough to face her, she simply revealed the handkerchief she’d been holding in her hand the whole time.
“Here,” Rei held a pale yellow cloth out to him, trying on a tentative smile. “For the… cold.”
He gladly accepted it. “...Thank you, Ayanami.”
Shinji swiftly dabbed his eyes. He made quick work of it, but the action did not escape the notice of a certain bespeckled fiend. Before Shinji could stuff the handkerchief into his pocket he was crushed into a hug, smashing his face square against Mari’s clavicle—and thankfully, no lower.
“Aww, my poor little puppy. There, there, it’s alright,” she soothed, stroking his hair like she would an actual pet. He did appreciate the sentiment, despite how infantilizing it was, but the way she reeked of alcohol made him squirm. “I don’t see how that meanie could stand to make a cutie like you so sad.”
“M-Mari-san, you don’t have to—”
Asuka cut in. “ I don’t see why you’re so broken up over her in the first place. She was nothing special.”
The entire group, save for Asuka, fell silent. All eyes were on her, now; Shinji was grateful for the break.
“...What? It’s true. You guys met her too. She was a total bore. Though I suppose that does make her a good match for Shinji,” she paused. “Did, I mean.”
“...I don’t think that’s helping,” Mari whispered.
“It isn’t,” Shinji whispered back bitterly.
The redhead strummed her fingers against the table impatiently. “Oh, come on. How long were you even with her? A few months? So what if things didn’t work out? It’s nothing worth getting so upset over,” she shrugged, flipping a strand of hair over her shoulder. “Girlfriends come and girlfriends go. If you managed to get one, then you can get another. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Still not helping, Princess.”
“Pssh. Whatever.”
In the seconds it took for Shinji to dislodge himself from Mari’s slackened grip, Asuka managed to finish the last of the shots, even his. She glared him down the entire time, like he was the one at fault. An awkward tension settled over the table and, seeing an opportunity to escape, Rei politely excused herself to fetch another round. With just the three of them, things seemed more stifling; he could feel Asuka’s gaze burning holes into him, even when he tried to ignore it. She had something more to say—that something was almost certainly not very nice, but it would be better to get it over with.
“Just get it out of your system, Asuka. What is it?”
She made a dismissive hmph and crossed her arms over her chest. “I just think it’s a waste for you to not even try to have a good time. Rei went through a lot of trouble to get this organized.”
“...Ayanami suggested this?” Shinji asked.
Mari swung an arm over his shoulder and answered in her stead. “Sure did! She’s worried about you, Puppy-boy. We all are. We know you’ve been down on yourself since… the incident,” she said euphemistically. “And what better cure for a broken heart than a night on the town? The Princess and I were discussing possible venues over lunch, but couldn’t come to an agreement. Then out of nowhere, bam! Rei pipes in and tells us about this place. Knocks the ones we had in mind right out of the water.”
“I still think the name is stupid,” Asuka whined. “Who calls a bar Seele? How pretentious can you get?”
“Not the point,” Mari ignored her comment. “And name aside, this place has all you could ask for. Drinks, music, lots of interesting people to meet… and I heard it from Rei myself that there’s going to be a special event later.”
The vagueness of the wording combined with the way Mari lasciviously wiggled her eyebrows as she said it was enough to pique both his interest and his concern.
“A… special event?”
“Yup! Trust me, you won’t want to miss it! And you get to experience it with three lovely ladies by your side, no less. By the end of the night, I bet you won’t even be able to remember what’s-her-face’s name at all!”
Asuka scoffed. “God, I hope so. If he keeps mumbling it under his breath I think I’ll get a headache.”
Shinji was used to seeing the catlike grin Mari got whenever she was feeling particularly mischievous. He had also heard the sharp, merciless tone she would take whenever she decided it was time to lay down the law. He had never witnessed the two paired together, though; neither had Asuka, judging from how pale she got.
“One more word and all the drinks are on you, Princess.”
The hours passed by, the drinks kept coming, and the banter between friends—most of which was civil—didn’t cease for a second. At no point in the night did Shinji think to himself, yeah, I’m actually having a great time right now, but it took his mind off the doom and gloom of his recent breakup enough that he was cautiously considering it to be a success.
It never got to the point where his ex slipped his mind completely like Mari predicted, though. No matter how hard he tried to commit to having fun, he would still get hit with the mental image of the pity-filled eyes she’d flashed him right before turning away, walking out of the door—and his life—for good. But his woes weren’t as all-consuming anymore; his thoughts were centered more on his friends, making the most of the night they planned for him, and wondering what this much-hyped-up “special event” was going to be.
There was only one way to find out. “So, Ayanami,” Shinji started, trying to play cool. It was hard to when he kept slurring his words. “This thing that’s happening later… what is it?”
Rei took a sip from the glass of water she’d been nursing. Even she had succumbed to Mari and Asuka’s peer pressure after a while, and had taken part in a few rounds. Shinji could see why she shied away from alcohol; she’d only drank a little and had done so quite some time ago, but her face was still almost as red as her eyes.
“What… thing, exactly?”
“You know, the ‘special event’? Mari told me about it. She didn’t mention what it was, though.”
“Special event… special event…” Rei repeated, like saying it aloud would jog her memory. “Oh, I know.”
Being the most inebriated of the bunch, Mari only then picked up on what they were talking about. She leaned over the table and waved her hand in between them like it would sever their conversation. “W-wait, Rei, don’t tell him! It’s supposed to be a surprise, he—”
“He should be going on soon.”
Mari limply fell back into her seat, totally defeated. Shinji didn’t think it necessary; he must’ve been drunker than he thought, since even though he’d technically been given an answer, he still had no clue what Rei was talking about.
“Huh? He? Who? And… what’s he going on?”
She pointed a delicate finger over his shoulder. Shinji craned his neck to see what she was trying to show him, and had to squint to make out its shape in the dim lighting. He had been so absorbed in trying to not be unwittingly subjected to anyone else’s happiness that he hadn’t bothered to scope out the bar at all, and didn’t take notice of anything within—not even the grand piano set on the other side of the room.
“This bar has live music on weekends. My cousin plays sometimes, so I try to come and watch whenever I can. That’s how I knew about this place,” Rei explained. “I thought you might be interested as well. You like music, right, Ikari-kun?”
Shinji shrugged. “I… guess? I mean, I don’t dislike it. I don’t think anyone dislikes music in general.”
Internally, Shinji let go a sigh of relief. As soon as Rei had said he with such obvious familiarity, his mind immediately jumped to a hitherto unknown boyfriend who was about to make his debut. Knowing that the affection in her voice was familial, not romantic, lifted an incredible weight off his weary shoulders. It was a selfish thought, sure, but he was just not in the mood to deal with anyone’s romance—not even a friend’s.
“This cousin of yours. Is he any good?” Asuka asked.
“Dunno ‘bout his playing, but he’s definitely a good looker!” Mari wolf-whistled. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us for so long, Rei! C’mon, show ‘em the picture you showed me! They’ll get what I mean.”
The other woman didn't look interested in the least, but played along.“Okay, fine. Show me this hot cousin of yours.”
“Yeeeah! That’s the spirit! Hot cousin time!”
“...Please stop calling him that.”
“W-well, uh, what’s his name, then?” Shinji jumped in before the other two could make matters worse. “So they have something else to call him.”
“I’d much prefer that,” she sighed. “His name is…”
Rei’s quiet voice was drowned out by a loud mechanical tap. Though it wasn’t bright compared to the other barely-lit fixtures, the one hanging over the piano brightened just enough to illuminate the instrument beautifully, sending beams of light glimmering off its smooth black edges. Shinji absentmindedly admired the sight, its implication not beginning to settle in his hazy mind until he realized the music that had been softly playing over the speakers had come to an abrupt end. Only when he saw someone saunter in from out of sight up to the piano, almost glowing in the overhead light, did what was about to happen finally click.
“That must be him,” Shinji whispered. With surroundings now much quieter, his voice seemed loud in his ears. Though he knew it wasn’t loud enough to be heard outside his table, his breath still caught in his throat when the man glanced in his direction—to his relief, it was just to return Rei’s wave.
Shinji could definitely see the resemblance. Pale skin, deep red eyes… his hair was a fluffy mop of gray instead of the soft sky-blue Rei’s was, but otherwise he had the same peculiar, slightly unnatural, yet undeniably beautiful features she possessed. He seemed almost angelic under the light as it caught brilliantly in the silvery strands framing his face, illuminating them like a halo. The way the looked, the way he moved—Shinji knew he was gawking, but couldn’t bring himself to stop.
The man had only been looking in his direction for a couple of seconds at most, and though Shinji would’ve been happy to stare at him longer, his attention swiftly shifted elsewhere. Just as he was about to turn away, those red eyes met with Shinji’s for a brief moment. He was far away enough that Shinji couldn’t be completely sure, but he thought he saw him smile.
Given how quiet the whole bar was, Shinji figured everyone else was just as enraptured by this guy as he was—an illusion that was broken by Asuka’s loud, no-so-subtle sneer.
“That’s him? Ugh, pass. Pretty guys like that are the worst. You need to get your prescription readjusted, Four-eyes.”
The brunette sighed dramatically. “Aww. Try to be a little more open-minded, Princess! Or at least, shut your mouth and enjoy the eye candy,” she purred. “I know I will.”
“I ask that you refrain from speaking about my relative in such a manner,” Rei whispered tersely. “...And you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Shinji’s ears were deaf to the rapidly devolving argument. All he could do was keep ogling the pianist without making what he was doing too obvious. Not that he was even paying attention to what Shinji, or anyone else in the audience, was doing; he was busy getting himself situated, fingers hovering over the keys as he prepared to begin playing.
In a cruel twist of fate, Shinji’s unspoken wish for the man to glance up at him again was granted when Mari stuck two fingers in her mouth, shot out of her seat, and whistled.
“What are you doing? Sit down, moron!”
Mari snickered furiously as she was pulled back down into her seat. “I’m just giving an artist my support! What’s so wrong with that?”
“You’re supposed to do that after they finished playing,” Asuka spat.
“So? It’s not like that’s a rule.”
Once again, Shinji paid his friends no mind. Though this time, he wasn’t indulging in some one-sided observation—those eyes he’d been so fascinated with were wide open as they stared back at him, filled with an emotion he couldn’t place.
A terrible realization struck.
Wait, does he think I was the one who whistled at him? It all happened so fast and Asuka had been so quick to wrangle Mari that he was the only one left looking directly at him. With the evidence he had at his disposal, Shinji was the obvious culprit. Oh no, oh no, oh no, what do I do, Ayanami’s hot cousin is going to hate me now, what do I do—
Shinji expected him to frown, roll his eyes, or maybe shoot him a dirty look or two. That’s what he would’ve done, had he been in his shoes. He’d for sure be creeped out if some random guy heckled him in such a brazen and cartoonish way. Who wouldn’t be? Who even whistles like that anymore?
He didn’t expect him to wink.
Wait, what? Shinji was in a silent tizzy. Did he really just get winked at? Could alcohol induce visual hallucinations? Were other people seeing this?
He had no more time to ruminate on those questions as the enigmatic man began to play.
In all honesty, Shjinji hadn’t known what to expect. He’d been so laser focused on the guy’s appearance that he hadn’t spared a thought for how talented he might be, as shallow as that was. But as long, nimble fingers danced across the keys, it became abundantly clear that he wasn’t just coasting off a pretty face.
“...He’s alright,” Asuka admitted. “Heard better, heard worse.”
Mari chuckled. “Always such a critic.”
Shinji was captivated. He had no way to judge the man’s technique; for all he knew his playing could be riddled with flaws here and there, but even if that were the case, it took nothing away from how entrancing the piece was. The fluidity with how he moved, the confidence of each stroke, the sheer joy on his face as he played—he couldn’t take his eyes away from the scene even if he tried.
Occasionally, their eyes met. At least, Shinji thought—or maybe just hoped—that they did; he could be looking at anyone, or just off into the distance. It was just wishful thinking, Shinji rationalized, since there was no reason to be watching him in particular. People he was talking directly to sometimes forgot his presence halfway through conversations. Why would a perfect stranger be any different? In the middle of a performance, no less?
It made no rational sense, but those red eyes kept finding his nonetheless. Even as the piece came to an end, his gaze stayed locked on; it broke only for a moment when his eyes shut in concentration as he executed the final part, finishing it up with a raucous flourish.
Shinji clapped. No one else was and he wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to in this kind of place, but for once he didn’t care about making a fool of himself. He just wanted to convey some kind of admiration, no matter how clumsily. When the man’s eyes opened once more they once again found Shinji, regarded him for a moment, and he smiled. He actually smiled. There was no mistaking it this time. Shinji felt like he could look at it forever.
“Yeeeah! You did great! Encore, encore!”
Mari stood up so fast that she sent her chair clattering down to the hard, sticky floor. It made a loud thud, but the sound was drowned out by her awful, cheesy whistling.
“...What? You said to wait for him to finish playing.”
To Shinji, it seemed like things always got a little better before getting much, much worse. To think the night had been going so well up until now; at its highest point, he had almost forgotten why he was here in the first place. The special event had been all he hoped for and more—watching that man play had taken his mind off of things better than any amount of alcohol had.
Which is why it was a such shame that he vanished in the few minutes Shinji had been washing up in the bathroom. The disappointment on his face when he came back to the table was obvious, and no one needed to ask for the reason.
“Jus’ missed him! Packed up and skedaddled right after you got up. Poor little puppy,” Mari giggled. She had settled down somewhat since her first outburst, but only because she had used up most of her energy being a nuisance.
That, and it was getting late. The bar’s ranks had thinned considerably; where it had been packed not half an hour ago, now, there were more empty tables than there were full ones. No wonder entertainment had been cut short.
Asuka snapped her fingers. “Shinji. One more round and then we wrap this up, yeah?” It was less of a question and more of a demand. “I don’t want this one to conk out too and have to drag her home.”
Mari giggled some more. Poor Rei—even with all the water she’d been drinking, the alcohol had proven to be too much for her. She was passed out hunched over the table with her head resting in her arms, snoring lightly. Her pale skin was still dyed a dull pink up to the tips of her ears, but she did seem to be sleeping peacefully, at least.
Shinji smiled and took his suit jacket off to drape it over her shoulders as a makeshift blanket. He needed to thank her for tonight… and ask her to apologize on his behalf to her cousin for the disruptions Mari had caused. If only he hadn’t left so abruptly, he could do it himself. But then again, he hadn’t even caught the guy’s name.
“Hey! Idiot Shinji! Are you even listening to me?”
“You should probably drink some water instead, Asuka. It’s a long way home.”
She pouted. “Then bring out some water with the next round. Do I have to tell you how to do everything?”
With a sigh, Shinji threw his hands up and headed to the center of the bar. At least no one looked sick yet—though, given his luck so far, that could change on a dime. A sour night ending on a sour note. It was fitting, in a way.
“...but this isn’t working out.”
The counter was far away enough from the table that Shinji didn’t try to hide how upset he was as he slumped into one of the chairs, waving the bartender off to let him know he wasn’t ready to order yet. Now with his buzz rapidly ebbing away and nothing else to occupy his thoughts, his mind was once again inundated with play-by-play repeats of how he’d gotten dumped. The things she’d said, the way she looked at him, the tone of her voice…
A different, far deeper one took its place.
“Rough night? My condolences.”
Shinji felt someone take the seat next to his. He didn’t recognize the buttery-smooth voice, nor did he care to; though he was grateful for the momentary reprieve it provided, he was committed to getting some well-deserved brooding in before he had to go back to putting on a brave face in front of his friends. He was exhausted. All he wanted was to have a moment to wallow in his misery on his own terms. Could he not even get that?
“...Look, I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled as he straightened his posture, ready to give whoever had decided to pick on him a piece of his mind. “So why don’t you just—”
He froze. Red. Up close, the color of those eyes was even more intense; every bit as deep and vibrant as Rei’s, but sparkling with a playfulness hers lacked. They bore into his the same way they had earlier, and once again, Shinji felt like he couldn’t look away if he tried.
“Y-you!?”
The man just smiled. “I-I mean,” Shinji cleared his throat, stammering. “Y-you’re the one who was playing earlier, right? Ayanami’s cousin…” he blurted out. “A-Ayanami Rei. I came with her and she, um, mentioned you.”
Shinji cringed at how his voice cracked in between words, but the man didn’t seem to mind. He carried the same air that he had when he was on the piano: self-assured and perfectly poised, lounging against the polished wood counter like he owned the place.
“I see I’ve already been given an introduction,” he chuckled. “I was going to go over and say hello, but I don’t think she’d appreciate me interrupting her nap just to exchange pleasantries. I hope she’s doing alright… when she wakes up, will you give her my regards?”
Shinji just gaped at him, mouth open and all sense of decorum gone. The words barely even registered over his frantic thoughts—why is he here, why is he talking to me, wow he looks even better up close—and it took him an uncomfortably long time to respond.
“O-of course. And I’ll make sure she gets home safely! I-I mean, it’s not like it’s dangerous around here, but… just in case, you know?”
If a hole were ever to cleave the earth apart and swallow him into its depths, now would’ve been a great time. He couldn’t tell if it was his nerves or the residual alcohol in his system taking the wheel, but whatever was to blame was doing an absolutely terrible job. His voice hadn’t sounded this high-pitched and shaky since his middle school days—not the best way to make a first impression.
A relief like no other washed over him when the man, totally unfazed by the awkwardness, graced him with yet another smile.
“That’s good to hear. I’m glad Rei has such dependable friends to count on. Thank you, Ikari-kun.”
“It’s no problem, I’d do anything for…” Shinji paused. “Wait, how do you know my name?”
He took a sip of his amber-colored drink, savoring its flavor before he answered. “Rei often speaks of you, as well as her other friends. I’ve heard quite a lot about them, and even more about you in particular. When I saw your group sitting with her, I knew immediately who you were. I’m glad I finally got to meet you in person,” his gentle smile fell slightly, and he sighed. “Though I appear to have chosen a bad time. My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t… startle me,” Shinji lied. “I just wasn’t expecting any company, and…”
And I wanted to be by myself for a while.
He considered saying as much. The empathetic look in this stranger’s eyes led him to believe that he wouldn’t take offense to being asked to leave. Then, he could indulge in some solitary sulking before getting the last round of drinks like he had intended on doing initially. Even being with his friends was sapping every bit of strength he had right now—he was in no state to entertain someone he didn’t even know. He wasn’t up to the task even on his good days.
But… this one’s presence didn’t feel intrusive, despite showing up without warning and that unexpected, almost inappropriate familiarity with which he spoke. The butterflies in Shinji’s stomach that he usually got when dealing with someone new felt somehow different; it wasn’t the usual nausea-inducing churning that threatened to spill over at any time but more of a strange, not totally unpleasant fizzle coursing through his core.
“...I’m just having a rough night, like you said. It must be pretty obvious,” he laughed mirthlessly. “But that’s not an excuse for treating someone poorly. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
Figuring he had tested this guy’s patience enough, Shinji murmured a quick “I’m sorry” and waited for him to take his leave. He was surprised when instead he felt the man close in, inching closer and closer until his vaguely floral cologne filled the space around them.
“No need to apologize. I understand. Rei mentioned that you were going through a rough patch.”
Shinji buried his face in his hands and let loose an impressive groan. “...Did she mention why, by any chance?”
“She… did, yes,” he admitted. “In truth, it’s why she insisted I come by today. She thought some music might help cheer you up.”
Shinji groaned again. Great, just great—did everyone know what a loser he was, now? “So this was a charity case, then. Well, thanks, I guess. I… appreciate it.”
Through some force unbeknownst to him, Shinji felt compelled to look up from his clasped, clammy hands. He dreaded the pity he was sure to see in the other man’s eyes—he’d had enough of it thrown at him to last a lifetime at this point, and could stomach no more of the stuff. He was as pleased as he was surprised when his assumptions were proven wrong; within them, there was only a warm, genuine sympathy he couldn’t bring himself to doubt.
“I wouldn’t call it that. Music is not just a means of self-expression, but a way to connect with others. It can bring joy in a way mere words cannot, and lessen the burden weighing on another’s heart,” he said softly, looking the slightest bit bashful. “Perhaps this is a presumptuous thing of me to say, but when I was playing, it seemed like the burden on yours lifted, if just a little. If so, I am more than happy to have helped.”
It had. That performance had been all he could think about while he was watching it—or rather, when he was watching him. It had felt as if they were the only two people in that crowded room back then, like they were in a place far away enough that his troubles could no longer reach him. And he wanted to say that. He wanted to so badly, but he just couldn’t say the words.
Apparently, he didn’t need to.
“Your smile was an inspiring sight. I’m privileged to have witnessed it.”
He leaned in. If he had been on the verge of invading Shinji’s personal space before, he definitely was now. Shinji could feel the warmth of his pale skin emanating off him as the gap between the two was nearly closed—the very definition of too close for comfort, yet he had no desire to pull away.
“It would be such an honor to see it again.”
Shinji didn’t know what to say. Or what to do—distantly, he thought that he should at least scoot away, but his brain refused to give the command. It was bizarre; normally he needed no prompting to scurry away from another person’s touch. It took all he had to accept it from those he was close to. But right now, instead of feeling anxious, he found himself more preoccupied with the fact that if he tilted his head just so and pushed himself a little bit forward, their lips would make contact.
The thought came as a shock. His body moving on its own to do just that came as a bigger one.
Shinji nearly gave himself whiplash jerking away. “S-sure! Um, yeah, of course. Who doesn’t music, right?” Change the subject. Please, please change the subject. “Especially a set like yours. It was really good… I-I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone play like that.”
He relished in the memory. Deft fingers giving way to a beautiful melody, the undeniable charisma sweeping him in, the intricacy of all the songs that were played…
…Mari hooting and hollering at the end of each one without fail.
“...And, sorry about the ruckus my friend made. I hope that didn’t spoil it for you… um…”
Shinji waffled, making vague gestures with his hands to wordlessly get his question across, to the other’s clear amusement. The way he laughed was music in its own right, but Shinji didn’t want to make too much of a fool of himself and gave up shortly.
“This is a little embarrassing, but Ayanami never actually told me your name.”
“No worries,” he giggled. “It’s Kaworu. Nagisa Kaworu. But just Kaworu is fine, if you like.”
Finally, an actual name to address him by. It was a good one, too… though any name was a better title than Ayanami’s cousin.
“Alright… Kaworu-kun,” Shinji smiled; he liked the way the name sounded on his lips. “Fair’s fair, so you can call me Shinji. I-If you want to, I mean.”
“Shinji-kun,” Kaworu tested, liking the way it sounded to him, too. “You have a nice name. It suits you.”
“No one’s ever told me that before.”
“Really?” Kaworu smirked. “That’s a shame.”
Despite being intimidatingly handsome to the point where Shinji found it difficult to keep facing him, Kaworu was surprisingly easy to talk to. Since he looked so much like Rei, Shinji had just assumed he would be just as aloof. But where it had taken him weeks of continuous effort to get on moderately friendly terms with her, within minutes he felt like he could trust Kaworu with his every secret. There was something about the way he talked, the way he could read Shinji like an open book—the minutes passed one after another without him realizing, and before he knew it, they were among the few left in the bar.
“I should probably get back to my group. I told them I was going to get the last round of drinks,” Shinji looked for the bartender, but he was nowhere to be found. “...Well, I was supposed to.”
“Your group. That’s Rei, Shikinami-san and, what was her name… Makinami-san, was it?” Kaworu asked. “The vocal one, I believe.”
That was certainly a way to put it. Shinji was surprised by how polite a description he used.
“...Yeah, that’s her alright. A-again, I’m really sorry about what she did. She means well, but can get, um, rowdy, pretty easily,” he said politely. “That still doesn’t make it okay, though. I wish there was something I could do to make it up to you, Kaworu-kun.”
Silver hair fluttered as he shook his head. “It’s hardly the first time something like that has happened. It’s to be expected when performing in a bar. You needn’t worry yourself.”
“Oh, I’m glad. That’s—”
“But I admit, I was a little disappointed.”
Kaworu perched his chin on his hand. He didn’t look disappointed—if Shinji had to guess what he was feeling, smug would’ve been his first answer. Still, it felt wrong to ignore.
“...About what?”
His eyes narrowed and his grin widened. Kaworu was not a threatening man from what he could tell, but Shinji still felt like he had just walked into some kind of trap he could no longer escape from.
“I’m used to being heckled on stage, but never by someone as adorable as you. It was quite a thrill. I think my performance improved because of it. So when I saw it was actually your friend Makinami-san’s doing… well, she’s lovely of course, but her attention is not the kind I’m interested in.”
Rei’s cryptic words suddenly started to make sense. Shinji could feel himself start to blush; he wasn’t used to anyone taking an interest in him. Not so obviously, at least… assuming he wasn’t misreading the situation.
He played it safe. “Uh, sorry?”
Kaworu laughed. “You needn’t apologize. But if you still want to make it up to me, how about letting me buy you a drink before closing?”
Shinji blinked. Once, twice, a few more after that before he really understood what was being asked. Kaworu waited for his answer patiently as his cheeks lit up in flames—that’s what it felt like, at least. Shinji couldn’t recall a time when he’d felt more flustered.
Or more excited.
“I still can’t believe you forgot to get our drinks. The last thing of the night, such a simple thing too, and you totally blow it. How? That’s what I get for letting you handle things, I guess. Typical.”
Asuka kept complaining as she dragged a half-conscious Mari over her shoulder, trying to keep her footing while dealing with the extra weight and glaring daggers at the back of Shinji's head. He was having a much easier time hauling Rei on his back, even without any help—he didn't even look like he was breaking a sweat. But more than that, or him screwing up her request, it was the goofy look on his face that pissed her off the most.
“What’s your problem? Hellooo?”
Shinji wasn’t listening. Not to her, nor to the voice he hadn’t been able to ignore for days on end. It seemed so distant now; in between the bitterness of the drink he’d shared with Kaworu lingering on his lips, the feeling of the strip of paper with his number written on it stuffed in his back pocket, and the parting words he’d been given, there wasn’t room for much else.
"I hope to see you again soon, Shinji-kun. I'll be waiting."
He had better things to think about now.