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He hovered on the fine edge between waking and dreaming. Someone was touching him. In his mind Shinji could picture the hand. Long, agile fingers and cold, pale skin. Adjectives leapt into his mind that came nowhere near describing it. He could picture the arms and the body and the face that would be connected to that hand, but the picture wavered, smoky and unsteady.
So Shinji opened his eyes. Fingers suddenly stopped caressing his cheek. Kaworu was making a point of not looking at him, knowing he’d been caught in the act, but Shinji didn’t mind as much as he once had. He reached up and rested his hand on Kaworu’s thigh. He wanted Kaworu to turn back, so he could see his face.
Only, when Kaworu did turn to him something was wrong. Something dark was rising up behind him. It started out pure and soft and brighter than light, like the wings of an angel as mankind had once dreamed of them, and then the light dimmed.
Kaworu was leaning over Shinji. He was smiling, looking perfectly gentle and harmless, but Shinji could only stare at the darkness behind him. He opened his mouth to scream, trying to warn Kaworu of what was behind him. Except. . . it was part of Kaworu. How could he warn him? How could both Kaworu and his shadow be connected? They were completely different.
All Shinji could do was make horse, gasping noises as Kaworu wrapped his arms around him. He was gasping Kaworu’s name over and over again, begging him for help. He was so cold where Kaworu’s shadow touched him, yet Kaworu was wonderfully warm. Shinji believed until the very last moment that what Kaworu was doing was kindness.
Then red eyes flared. Something surged up in Shinji’s body, unescapably like pain, but it was distant. Everything from Kaworu’s embrace to Shinji’s terror was fading.
Because Shinji was waking up.
For a moment Shinji was frozen still in his bed. The room was bright around him. Had he overslept? Was he late for school? Shinji knew there was something he should be doing but he couldn’t work out what it was. He couldn’t even be sure what day it was.
“Kaworu?” Shinji called softly. He knew he was alone, but he couldn’t help hoping that Kaworu might be just in the next room, or somewhere equally close. He sat up, still shaking from his dream.
“Yes?” Kaworu poked his head into the room, making Shinji jump. “What’s wrong?”
Shinji shook his head. He didn’t know what was wrong. He had just had a strange dream. He must still be dreaming.
Steering his thoughts quickly away from that subject, Shinji looked up and found Kaworu by his side, climbing onto the bed. There was no menace this time. Kaworu was the way Shinji wanted to remember him. He was human, completely harmless. They were on the same side.
“I killed you,” Shinji blurted out, trying to pull away from Kaworu’s touch.
“Bad dreams again,” Kaworu told him. His voice had a stubbornly patient ring to it, as if he had explained the same thing a thousand times before. Maybe he had. “It’s over,” Kaworu explained, “Everything’s over. You’re retired.”
Somehow when Kaworu told him it was over, it had no negative possibility at all. Those words promised a bright future. It was a future that Shinji was already living in.
“I’m dreaming.” This was too good to be true, no matter how badly Shinji wanted it to be true.
“That’s what you say every morning,” Kaworu reminded him. “It’s not a dream.”
“It is.” It hurt. Shinji wanted to believe. Why couldn’t he bring himself to believe?
“Then this is a dream you don’t have to wake up from.” Kaworu had gotten Shinji out from under his blankets and into his arms, though how Shinji couldn’t be sure. “It doesn’t have to be a bad dream.”
“Because you’re here?”
“That’s right.” Kaworu was warm. Surely that warmth couldn’t be a dream. Shinji clung to him, desperate not to give up the comfort of those arms around him.
“But you’re dead.”
“Then I’m alive in your mind. Is that so bad?” Shinji shook his head. He was happy to have Kaworu here with him, alive.
“You’re just saying what I want to hear.”
“Is that bad?”
No. Shinji couldn’t argue. This wasn’t bad. Kaworu was alive. That was what he wanted. His friend was still alive.
Something about the way Kaworu was holding him told Shinji that he was wrong. Kaworu wasn’t his friend. He was a lot more than just a friend.
“Nothing wrong with this, is there?” Shinji was about to agree, but he couldn’t speak. Kaworu was kissing him.
Even though Shinji was sure he’d never felt anything like it, the sensation of Kaworu’s lips on his was wonderfully familiar. Maybe they had done this before. Maybe Shinji woke up every day to the revelation that Kaworu was still alive. Maybe every morning he rediscovered the fact that they were lovers.
“Let it wait until after breakfast.” Kaworu cautioned him. Images surged through Shinji’s mind, making him blush. He couldn’t be sure if they were memories or possibilities.
“I don’t want to. . .”
“Always so impatient,” Kaworu teased. He was standing up, forcing Shinji to get out of bed if he wanted to follow him. The words triggered an image in Shinji’s mind.
. . . bent back over the kitchen table. . . Kaworu sobbing his name. . .
Shinji swung his legs out over the edge of the bed and started to get to his feet. The floor didn’t seem to be in place. He kept falling, floating downwards. Kaworu was gone.
Shinji woke up.
He didn’t want to open his eyes. He wanted to go back to the dream where Kaworu was alive and whole and the world was exactly the way it should be.
Even when Shinji did open his eyes it made no difference. It was completely dark in his room. It must still be he middle of the night. Shinji knew instinctively that he was not alone, though he could see nothing.
“Kaworu,” Shinji tried to call his name, but his throat was too tight to force the words out. He couldn’t hear or see the other person, but he could feel him settle on the bed beside him.
Shinji was shuddering inside. He couldn’t understand his own fear. Kaworu was so close, his breath hot against Shinji’s face. Shinji knew he should be happy, because he was sure it was real this time, and Kaworu was here, leaning over him.
Everything was all wrong. Kaworu’s hands traced a path up his chest and Shinji felt himself trying to recoil from the touch. He was breathing in Kaworu’s breath and it caused a bitter pain in his lungs. It was like poison.
Then Shinji could no longer breathe. Kaworu’s hands had locked around his throat.
Shinji couldn’t find the strength to scream or struggle. He just lay, frozen, letting Kaworu slowly force the life out of him.
Lungs burning, Shinji finally felt himself move, but it was only to mouth Kaworu’s name over and over, silent and breathless.
Shinji shuddered throughout his whole body and the hands around his neck vanished. The darkness was no longer complete. He stared up at his ceiling, still gasping Kaworu’s name. It took him several minutes to realize that he had woken up, for real this time.
Shinji was sure this was real. He was suddenly noticing hundreds of little details that he had not thought to check for in his dreams. There was the green glow of his digital clock, the soft light of dawn breaking outside his window. Even in the dim light he could make out details of his room that he hadn’t noticed in his dream.
Sitting up, Shinji tried to keep himself from shaking. He forced down the potent aftermath of his own dreams, reminding himself of the reality he was in.
Kaworu was dead. He wasn’t a murderer, or Shinji’s lover. Shinji wasn’t going to see him again outside of his own, twisted dreams. None of it was real. Shinji blinked back tears. He wanted it to be real, even if Kaworu did kill him. It would be no worse than the guilt he was living with.
Looking again toward the window, Shinji gasped in surprise. He must still be dreaming. Kaworu was standing there, his back to Shinji, staring out at the rising dawn.
Maybe it wasn’t a dream. He could see the window and the outside world right through Kaworu. Maybe he was a ghost.
Stretching out his hand, Shinji tried to touch Kaworu, to see if he was really there. For one instant he hovered on the edge of reaching Kaworu, and than he was gone.
Shinji sat back. He should have known he was just seeing things. He should have realized that Kaworu wasn’t there for him to touch.
No matter how many times he dreamed or imagined it, in the end Kaworu was gone.