Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shinji wakes up everyday and hopes that this will be the last time he feels like this, which makes every day worse than the last.

The 12th Angel's attack had been the start of it. On the battlefield with his fellow pilots, Shinji had stupidly decided to take the offensive position as per Asuka's mockery. Misato had said he was number one earlier in the day, and admittedly, it would be worth seeing the look on Asuka's face when he flipped one of her petty jabs on its head. He wasn't competitive by any means, not during P.E and especially not with his fellow pilots- that was all Asuka's thing. He was just riding off his high.

He thought he should blame Asuka for putting him in this predicament. After all, it was her who had jabbed at him and made him want to prove her wrong in the first place, but right now the only one he felt he could blame was himself.

Curled up tightly in a ball, Shinji was desperate to get his mind off his roaring stomach and the paralyzing sense of urgency and dread that had become his world. It proved to be an easy task, all there was to do is think.

Shinji’s thoughts soon became a vehement, vicious onslaught- a derailed train with no plans on stopping. He thought of everyone and everything. He remembered where he'd been before this, and the last things he'd said to everyone. And in the haze of it all, Shinji was able to string together what had been his last conversation.

“After all, fighting is a man's job!”

The first pinpricks of tears burn at his eyes, before bursting forth all at once and trailing down his cheeks in droves. So what if fighting was a man’s job? He didn't want it as a job at all! But it had to be, because otherwise what good was he?

The role that had been assigned to him was restrictive and only had him feinting happiness to others and himself. This was most evidently felt in his role as a pilot, but not exclusively. There was more behind it, a soft echo that he had to strain his ears to hear, yet his head was buzzing too loudly to make anything out.

Exhausted, Shinji accepted being dragged into this whirlwind of thinking over and over again, slowly losing the strength to cling on to consciousness. He found true rest when a soft chime sounded- which was a wordless way to break the news that his time was almost up. Soon the EVA would run out of oxygen… soon, he could rest.

That is, until the luminous apparition of a woman neared him and caressed his cheek. He opened his eyes just a smidge, and was immediately awed by what met him. Her hair trailed behind her in a tranquil rhythm, and her form was soft and pristine. The hand that caressed him was gentle, comforting, familiar. An angel . But not like the ones he fought… more like the ones in old paintings, here to take him away.

No, this familiarity went deeper. The figure pulled him in for a hug, and without thought, the word “Mother?” escaped his lips.

Even without being able to make out her face, knowing it was because his memories of her have all but faded, he knew she was beautiful, inside and out.

Shinji felt a pang of jealousy for no reason he could name.

“Shinji! Shinji! Shinji! Are you alright?! Come on, answer me! Shinji!”

He woke up to Misato standing over him with tears staining her face, and the feeling remained.

—

Days went on lazily for a while after that. Shinji thought he should be grateful that the world had offered him some time to recover from the whole ordeal, but that was just it. The memory of all he’d thought and experienced, of that woman, his mother, was too much for him to shake. All things considered, it was very reasonable for him to be feeling like this. It wasn’t every day a boy his age got trapped into a giant fighting robot and then experienced whatever that had been.

Yeah. It would be reasonable, if it had just been that which was bothering him.

Instead, Shinji found himself increasingly fixated on the lingering image of his mother. It was a pity he couldn’t remember her face, because he ended up constantly wondering if he resembled her. It wasn’t like he had any remaining photos of her to answer his questions, and unfortunately the best person to ask about her appearance would be his father, who he felt like he was resembling more everyday.

If only that last bit wasn’t true. There was no warmth to be found within his father, and even less elegance. The man was pure intimidation and cold command, with grisly, calloused features that complimented his increasingly unsavory personality. The idea of Shinji growing up and mimicking that in any way was almost too much to bear. While Shinji admittedly longed for his approval, he had no desire to talk to the man outside of that, and he was certain he felt the same.

His mother’s ethereal form and gentle, loving aura contrasted that of Father so heavily. It made him wonder how the two had ever managed to come together to create him, much less fall in love. Inexplicably, Shinji wished he could be half as lovely and kind as her.

Because he loathed his father.

Yes, that had to be it.

—

What started as dissatisfaction and passive envy swiftly spiraled into self resent, as things usually did with him. Shinji had never enjoyed the spotlight, in fact he considered himself quite adverse to it, and for that reason he simply maneuvered through life by trying to be in the background of things. If he remained unnoticeable, then there was less opportunity for others to dislike him. Besides, he didn’t have much to show off to begin with. How could anyone hate you if they didn’t even realize you were there? And Shinji had also never been a looker. He didn’t think he was ugly, just kind of average, and he liked it that way. It kept people’s attention away from him.

Why then, was he so repulsed by what he saw in the mirror now?

His self-loathing had become overpowering and something he could only describe as having an itch he couldn’t scratch, shoes on the wrong foot, an instinctual wrongness he couldn’t understand. He had gone from being nervous by others giving him attention to being blatantly paranoid that they were. Their stares, real or imagined, felt abhorrent and inescapable. He felt it when he walked to school, he felt it when he walked home, he felt it among Toji and Kensuke, he felt it at NERV, and he even felt it when he was with Misato and Asuka.

And so came the question, naturally, if he didn’t like what he saw now, what did he want to see?

Shinji mused over this again and again. So he was having issues with self image, he thought, plenty of guys go through that. Late in the night, with his gaze trained on the ceiling, Shinji tried to envision himself with the same rugged nature as Toji or Mr. Kaji. He found, quickly, that it did little to soothe him or resolve any of these feelings. Quite the opposite: it felt like someone had gone and punched him in the gut, left a void in his chest and allowed dread to start pooling up inside it.

He tries to comfort himself instead, letting tracks 25 and 26 play idly in his ears, and the lingering memory of his mother fills his mind.

Warm, smooth, inoffensive, delicate.

The opposite of everything he was supposed to be. The opposite of all he was.

At the end of the day, it only upsets him more.

—

The tipping point was something stupid.

The sound of heels clacking against the floor made Shinji’s head raise from where he’d been mindlessly reading comics, trying to get his mind off his thoughts. Misato was wearing a knee-length black dress, with yes, black heels, and she was looking at Asuka crossly.

“Um,” He paused, blinking, “Going somewhere?”

“Where’s my lipstick?” Misato ignored him and sauntered over to Asuka, who was sitting up and putting on her very best innocent expression.

“I dunno!” She chirped in that typical Asuka way which pretty much did everything but say out loud that she thought she was better than you. “Why don’t you look for it?”

“Asuka.”

But even she wasn’t impenetrable. She broke. “Uuugh! Fine!” Throwing herself back onto the mattress, she pointed to the door. “It’s in the bathroom by the sink! Don’t hurt yourself sprinting over to get it.”

Misato gave an exasperated sigh, followed by a smile. “I know you and Shinji are at the age where you start thinking about this stuff, but you should know better than to steal my belongings, Asuka. You could always just buy your own.”

“But can’t you just let me borrow it every once and a while?” She whined, “I’m gonna have to learn how to do it for guys anyway, I might as well start practicing now!”

Misato took the easy way out by chuckling and turning around, making her way to the bathroom, leading to a very annoyed groan from Asuka. A dry laugh escaped Shinji at the exchange, but he would like to get some more details on Misato’s night out- it wasn’t a usual occurrence for her to go out somewhere without telling the two beforehand.

“Don’t bother Shinji, she’s not gonna let you borrow it either.” Asuka jeered as he got up to follow her.

“Oh ha ha.” He scoffed, closing the door with a dull slam before crossing the hallway to poke his head into the bathroom.

“Ms. Misato? What time do you think you'll.. Uh-”’

Something sightly met his gaze.

Misato held a small, silver item with a bright, wax-like red tip up to her lips, applying it in smooth motions as she stared intently into the bathroom mirror. A fuzzy feeling buzzed in Shinji’s stomach, followed by a full-body shudder.

“Do I think I’ll be back?” Misato finished as she rubbed her lips together to evenly apply the color, eyes narrowed with focus.

Reality sharpened Shinji’s senses and he nodded, stupidly. Though it’s very hard to formulate a proper response as Misato turned, giving him a proper look of the final product.

The memories from that day were renewed- of waking up after seeing his mother, envy coursing through every inch of him, to the image of Misato with tears streaking down her face as she begged for him to answer. Without warning, that same envy rejuvenated itself, now mingled with an icy cold, unnerving chill that has settled over Shinji’s skin.

It must not have shown much in his expression, or if it does, Misato takes it as something else, because she just smiled a big red smile and went on. “Hm, I'm afraid it’s hard to tell. Ritsuko’s.. invited me out for drinks.”

Now if Misato was hiding something, it was Shinji’s turn not to catch on. Her tone became cheerful. “Rest assured I’ll be back in the morning! Feel free to heat up one of the microwave meals if you and Asuka get hungry, and don’t stay up too late just because I’m not here!”

Throat long dried, Shinji swallows and croaks out a feeble little, “O-Okay, have fun.” As Misato ruffled his hair, reached for her purse, shouted a farewell to Asuka, and left.

Shinji stared absently at the door in her wake.

The immediate conclusion he came to was that those feelings had been attraction, and shame flooded him at once. But then his gaze drifts to the bathroom, where Misato had left the lipstick on the sink, and the thought is just as immediate:

Could he look like that?

The pull is downright irresistible. His hands itch at his sides, but the realization of all this means glues his feet to the ground. Asuka was in the other room. She could come in any second and– He didn’t even know how to–

No, that wasn’t why it was wrong. He was a guy . He wasn’t even supposed to be having these thoughts, no guy was!

He shut the door to the bathroom, if only to give his hands something to do and also so he could stop looking at it– nevermind the fact he had to pee. Then he walked back over to where he was, dropped back to the floor, picked up his comic, and glued his eyes to it. He could feel Asuka’s gaze on him, yet doesn’t dare look over, for fear she may somehow know more than she lets on.

“What’s the matter with you?” Is all she said, making his heart skip a beat. But he played it cool, or at least he hoped he did. “Huh? Nothing.”

Seemingly fed up with his moodiness, the way she rolled her eyes and brought an arm back to tuft out her hair so it fell gracefully down her back is cause for longing.

Now, Shinji realizes, it’s not in the romantic sense. It’s no desire for what he could have, but what he could be.

Except he had to be reasonable: He couldn't be this at all, it just wasn't the way things were. He expected this to bring relief, but the thought is nauseating, enough to make him feel like he shouldn’t try to be anything if he couldn’t be this. Whatever the case, he wouldn't entertain this desire under any circumstance.

Hours passed and the feeling of overwhelming dread didn't dissipate, it didn't even try. Reading any of the words on the page took Shinji three attempts to understand them. He expected it to go away, like any malady should, but it didn’t.

The two readied themselves for bed in quiet correspondence, a practiced routine. All the while, Shinji kept his gaze fixed to anything but Asuka or, worse, himself. He was acting weird, she would have to notice– he’d been vigorously examining a bar of soap the entire time the two have been brushing their teeth for god’s sake, all in the hopes of avoiding her or the mirror.

Which turned out to be a terrible idea. Asuka noticed the lipstick on the sink at the same time that he did, and she held it up with her pointer and thumb in triumph, because she could. It was right for her to hold it, perfectly suitable.

“Aha! If Misato wanted it for herself so much, then she’d do a better job of hiding it!” She looked over to Shinji with a cheshire cat smile. “You won’t tell, will you, Shinji? Hmm, though most idiots are also snitches.”

“Who cares about all that stuff?” Shinji said dismissively in the hopes Asuka will just let it go, even though he now knows the answer intimately.

With a hmph, she stuffed it in her pocket, spat out the last of her toothpaste, and sauntered away. “Someone like you would never get it!”

She’s right.

He wouldn’t.

—

Shinji did his due diligence, in private, mind you, but he did. Mostly because if there was an easy fix for these feelings, he would like to find it. He couldn't run away from this like he did any other problem. There was no running away from his own head or the person he saw in the mirror.

This optimism proved to be his first mistake. What he finds provides a conclusion, but not a happy one at all. Not only were these feelings here to stay, but fixing them required him to do exactly what he'd sworn not to do.

Late at night, when Misato and Asuka had long since fallen asleep and there were no more tracks for him to listen to, his worser half practically screamed for him to get up, sneak to the bathroom and utilize whatever makeup Misato had most definitely left lying around, no matter how clueless he was on how to apply it.

And he really could. Misato slept like a hibernating bear and Asuka hadn't ever woken up when he'd gone to the bathroom before. But something, his better self, kept him glued to the mattress.

He hit play on his audio tape, and Track 1 began.

—

Kaworu Nagisa was an anomaly, but was proving himself to be a very welcome one.

Thank God he arrived when he did. Never had Shinji met someone so non-judgemental, so earnestly full of care. And to everyone else’s credit, the bar was below the ground– even Misato’s housing of Shinji came with the condition that he remain a pilot. But Kaworu’s affinity for Shinji felt like something done off instinct alone. The sadness eating away at his heart, the booming chorus of his self hatred, all seemed to ebb away around him. Shinji finds he doesn’t mind when Kaworu looks at him, because it’s completely unlike the way anyone has looked at him prior, eyes always laden with expectation. With Kaworu Shinji could just… be.

To what extent? Shinji had no clue. From the time they’ve spent together, Shinji had concluded that Kaworu’s grip on societal norms was nonexistent, much to Asuka’s dismay and continued offense. If he confessed to something as outlandish as what he was feeling now, maybe it wouldn’t be as hard for Kaworu to grasp.

And if he didn’t tell him, then who?

He had to tell someone. It was eating him alive.

The day, by all accounts, was pleasant and warm with a light breeze. The sun shone bright and happy above without a cloud in sight. This did little to soothe his nerves, however, as Shinji was currently cooped up inside the bathroom, staring despairingly at his reflection in the mirror.

Aside from the obvious distaste over what he saw, there was a greater problem at hand.

Shinji, uncharacteristically so, had decided that this would be the day he faced his.. issue.. head on. He was going to tell somebody, because he finally had someone he could tell anything to.

“Kaworu,” He began in a whisper as to not wake Asuka or Misato up. “I feel like.. I can talk to you about things I wouldn’t usually talk about. So, I wanted to tell you that I’d like it if-”

“HEY! Can you go ANY slower in here?!”

Speak of the devil and she arrived. Shinji yelped and whipped around to face the door, where he was met by a very angry Asuka who was rocking an even angrier bedhead. She stomped over to the sink, shoving him as she hastily seized her toothbrush and doused it in more than enough toothpaste, the poor bottle crushed in her grip.

“I don't know if you were giving yourself some idiot pep talk or what, but SOME of us have a morning routine!”

“I'm sorry! I-I was just, um-”

“Eugh!” Asuka's face scrunched up in clear disgust, “Did you even brush your teeth? God, you men have no sense of personal hygiene either!”

Her words were the equivalent of a pin popping Shinji's heart like a balloon, leaving him shrinking and deflated in place of the terror he'd just felt. Usually he could get past her jabs, but this hurt. It hurt so much that he didn't have a retort, falling quiet and grabbing his toothbrush.

If Asuka noticed his silence, she said nothing of it. She gargled water, spat it out, and went out in search of the nearest comb.

Shinji watched as she went, then turned again to the mirror, his hand reaching up to stroke his own strands of brown hair that barely went past his nape.

Guess he should brush his teeth. Kaworu would be waiting for him in his apartment, just as Shinji had asked. He’d already committed to it, now he just had to follow it through…

Someone would know soon.

—

“Shinji!”

Even if he expected it, what with being at his door and all, Kaworu’s voice is still enough to choke breath, no matter how sweet of a melody it carried.

“You’re here early.” He remarks with a winning smile. Shinji flushes.

“Yeah. Asuka was in one of her moods so I just… um, decided to get away.”

Kaworu held open the door in a gentlemenly fashion as Shinji stepped inside. No amount of comfortability that Kaworu's room radiated could soothe his pounding heart now. Everything about this situation made him feel like a wild animal caught in a snare, or a lamb going to the slaughter.. and he was almost certain that Kaworu was the safest possible person to tell this to.

He couldn't just stand there, so he went and sat on Kaworu's bed. “Hopefully my residence is an improvement, as small as it is.” Kaworu said.

“Y-Yeah! It is.. definitely, um...” How did one even broach the topic? Was he just supposed to go out and say it?

Well, he'd missed his chance now. Kaworu had reached for an upside down book on his desk and was flipping through it idly. “I've read more of the book you lended me. Lilin literature is so intriguing. Making up a fictional scenario to escape from the realities around them… it's fascinating.”

“Yeah?” Shinji repeated as filler. Would he have to explain everything he'd been feeling just so Kaworu would get it? How could he even articulate these emotions– a feeling so huge, so inexplicable yet inescapable– in a way Kaworu would understand? He hadn't thought this through nearly as much as he believed.

“Though I've never engaged with one that uses illustrations as a storytelling medium. It must take years to complete, perhaps a lifetime if this is all one devotes themselves to. Then again, when all you have is a lifetime, what better way than to spend it doing what brings you happiness, no matter how-”

“Kaworu,” Shinji said in a breath, and then immediately regretted it.

“Hm?” The other turned his head and smiled in response, and though this would usually soothe Shinji, today it does nothing but bring more panic. Goosebumps coated his skin, and he suddenly couldn’t remember anything he said when he was practicing in the mirror before.

“Um,” He stammered, looking away. God, no, nevermind, forget he even tried. Admitting to these feelings outloud was making them real real, and not just something he could stuff down and hope to ignore now that it was staring him in the face.

“N-nevermind. It’s nothing, sorry. Keep going.” He met Kaworu’s gaze again sheepishly, managing to force a smile. “I-I brought you the second volume if you wanted to keep reading it.

Without giving Kaworu a chance to respond, Shinji reached for his backpack and scrambled for the zipper, feeling hollow with relief as the buzzing beneath his skin began to fall still. This relief would be short-lived, however. A heavy yet warm weight pressed against his shoulder.

He had no choice but to turn.

“It doesn't sound like nothing” There was an amused lift to his voice, but Kaworu's tone was undeniably laden with concern. “It sounds like something important, and that’s making you nervous.” He said, precise as always. “If that’s the case, you have nothing to be nervous about, Shinji. It’s reasonable to fear the emotional pain which would be brought on by judgment, but you don't need to worry about that with me.”

But that was just it. This was something big, something so potentially shameful that Shinji was afraid to tell even Kaworu about it. Because if Kaworu found it strange, how could Shinji ever expect anyone else to go along with it?

Shinji stared hopelessly and didn't dare to breathe, choked with the knowledge that there was absolutely no backing out of this now, Kaworu had already taken up the vacancy next to him on the bed.

“So, what is it?”

His voice was so soft it almost made Shinji actually puke. He didn't need to be nervous, it was just Kaworu. Kaworu Nagisa, who, though questionable in his etiquette at times, was the kindest, most reassuring, and well-meaning figure in Shinji's life.

He took a breath. Best to start small.

“Well, I-I guess.. have you ever been bothered by how other people see you?”

It would have been a valid question if he'd asked it to anyone but Kaworu. He tilted his head, as if in thought, but the answer came unsurprisingly quick. “I can't say that I have, though there's been times where it'd make sense if I was.”

“Right,” Shinji said. “It’s related to that..”

“Ah, did somebody say something? You should know I find myself very impressed by your-”

“N-no,” He interrupts, for once unappreciative of Kaworu’s praise. “Just listen.”

As Kaworu’s shoulders slackened and he squinted fondly, Shinji took a deep, shuddering breath and straightened up. He dared not look at Kaworu now, gaze fixed to where his hands were clasped and fidgeting in his lap. It felt like someone had gone and scrambled up his insides with a fork, making it hard to breath, and especially hard to speak. His throat was still too dry for words anyway.

However, Kaworu never lost patience, and Shinji could sense the way his eyes stayed fixed on him throughout the silence. With unwavering care, Kaworu’s attention was all his own. It was both daunting and comforting, and it was what gave him the final push necessary.

“I.. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how others see me.” Shinji finally began, then added abruptly, “I usually do- but, this is different.”

Kaworu merely raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘go on’.

“It’s about how people see me: Shinji.” He placed his hand on his chest for emphasis. “What they see when.. when they look at me. They see..”

A man. A boy. Shinji thinks, but the words die on his tongue. That sounded stupid. Even thinking about it fills him with that same feeling: shoes on the wrong foot, clothes a size too small, skin a bit too dry. So he opts for something more ambiguous.

“They see something I don’t think I want them to see, n-not anymore.” Not ever. His voice is unmistakabley quivering with unease, as is the rest of him. “S-So I wanted to ask you- If you didn’t mind-”

Acidic fear is on his tongue and electric adrenaline is pulsing through his veins, making him feel like he’s practically on fire. It was a new type of fear, unlike anything he’d experienced on the battlefield. Here, he was faced with no angel, no cosmic horror trying to end the world. It was just Kaworu, his closest friend and the only person he felt he could really trust.

“I-if you could.. if it isn't weird or anything.. call me she..?”

Shame immediately swept over her in the form of heat, cheeks going rosy pink. Her heartbeat had grown painful as it beat against her chest, but it was out, she’d said it. At first, Shinji felt so much lighter, like a great weight had finally been hoisted off her back, in an unceremonious, not at all eloquent fashion, but off her back nonetheless.

Though, Kaworu did still have to reply.

“”She” and “her” are exclusive to females in Lilin culture.”

Reality set in.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yet you want to be referred to with them as well?”

“...Yes.”

An admittance of guilt. Shinji met Kaworu’s eyes, taking in everything about his expression, any potential confusion or disgust- but there was very little to analyze. Kaworu wore his signature smile, and when he noticed how intently Shinji was looking at him, his smile grew bigger. Simultaneously, Shinji’s heart lifted.

Then came crashing down to form a pit in her stomach as Kaworu suddenly stood up from where he sat next to her, turned, and walked away.

Her side went cold with his absence. She has one merciful moment where her mouth hangs open in confusion before she processes what just occurred, paving the way for horror to set in. What had she done? Or better yet, what had she expected would happen? Asuka was right, she really was an idiot. She might have called Kaworu back or ran after him now, if she wasn’t struck motionless. So instead she sat, staring with wide eyes that had just filled with their first pinpricks of tears as Kaworu made for the door.

Except- no, not the door. Kaworu had turned to the cabinets just beside the door. He kneeled and opened the very bottom one, not even shuffling around its compartments before pulling out a zippered pouch. Then he turned and walked back to Shinji with his hands behind his back.

“If you prefer feminine terms in relation to yourself, I assume you want to present outwardly as a woman.”

Shinji blinked, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She quickly realized Kaworu was actively waiting for a response, and nodded, an infinitesimal movement.

“Then this will help.”

With that, he extended his hand that held the pouch for her to grab. Shinji’s hands twitched, and she reached for it gingerly, fingers fumbling for the zipper.

A vibrant array of colors and tools met her gaze, chock full of items she had only ever seen encased in store windows prior to today. This made Misato's collection look like a children's playset in comparison.

“Makeup is one of Lilin's greatest achievements. It too can enrich the heart by making the body a canvas.”

Blues, pinks, whites, things to paint her eyes and color her lips.. Shinji didn't look up, but she felt the bed sink next to her, a warm breath puffing against her cheek.

“Not to mention expressing inner truths for all to see. Something you could use, especially.”

The prospect of this being for her to use left her in a daze, and won over the embarrassment of having Kaworu so close. Dumbfounded, Shinji asked stupidly, “This– Is this all for me?”

“Yes, silly.” Kaworu laughed, a musical thing. “I'm not sure if you're familiar with how to apply it, but there are plenty of resources online you can learn from. Or you can always ask me.”

All for her. All for her. All for her! Her heart was fluttering and she couldn’t think straight. She thought back to the night she'd watched as Misato applied it generously to her lips. It'd been enough to drive her wild with envy then, devastated by the prospect of something so lovely being reserved only for Misato, Asuka, and Rei, never for Shinji to enjoy because nature had decided so.

Until now.

“I- I don’t know how to thank you, Kaworu.”

“A simple ‘thanks’ would suffice.” Kaworu teases.

“No, I mean-” A flustered half grin broke Shinji’s expression at last. “I’m grateful- Really, really grateful for this. I wanted to steal some of Misato’s but I-”

I can steal yours now. She wants to joke, until she puts two and two together and realizes that yes, this is in fact Kaworu's makeup.

Shinji straightened up again, facing Kaworu fully now with renewed composure. “Hey wait, how did you get this, Kaworu?”

The idea of Kaworu stealing was very hard to wrap his head around. He could be unconventional, sure, but he certainly knew right from wrong. And it’s not like they got paid a salary as pilots. Even still, he found it even harder to believe Kaworu might have gone out of his way to buy it in the first place. He was a guy! It would be terribly embarrassing to admit.

Kaworu seemed to think otherwise. “I paid for it with birthday money, which I suppose is my only wage.” He explained easily, “Everyone remembers my birthday. I think they feel bad it landed on such an unfortunate day. I’m unbothered, but I appreciate their efforts. I’ve had this kit in particular for a little over a year.”

It was astonishing how sure Kaworu was of himself, especially when it related to something as inherently girly as makeup. Asuka's colorful insults came to mind, and she realized a broken clock really was right twice a day. “Didn’t you feel nervous buying it? Weren’t you worried about how people would look at you if you used it?”

“Not at all. I don’t see the issue, over seventy percent of women wear makeup.” He said like it was nothing at all, reaching into the bag and grabbing a small, pale packet. Dissatisfaction crossed his features as he inspected it, “Ah, this one here is almost out, I’ve used it generously. Sorry, Shinji. Oh, would you like to be called something other than Shinji?”

“Shinji is fine.” Shinji dismissed given there was something much more pressing at hand. “But Kaworu, you’re a guy..”

Kaworu shrugged. “I suppose.”

The silence spoke volumes. He supposed? Shinji had also supposed she was just a dude with some weird tastes, but they both knew how that turned out.

Which begged the question: Was Kaworu so accepting because he too was carrying a secret?

“Do you.. like being a guy?”

She analyzed Kaworu’s expression once more for any signs of discomfort, realization, or relief, but Kaworu was uncharacteristically apathetic. With a quick shrug and head tilt, he spoke plainly, “It doesn’t bother me.”

It wasn’t the typical response you’d get from someone like Toji or Kensuke, who were so incredibly adamant about their manliness that it was honestly part of the reason Shinji began to realize something was off in the first place. So, more daring than ever, Shinji asked:

“Do you think you’d like being seen as a girl, too?”

Yet Kaworu remained apathetic. “That wouldn’t bother me either.”

What? Shinji was baffled at the concept. Confidence was one thing and self consciousness was another, but having complete apathy to both? Kaworu really was like no one else she had ever met.

He took out another tool from the pouch, (Shinji was pretty sure it was for your eyelashes) and began to inspect it as well, almost like the mindless fidgeting Shinji did when she was nervous.

“It’s much easier to go along with whatever people see, though I can understand why that would bother you. Lilin’s ability to change their exteriors in an effort to reflect how they feel on their interiors is what makes them unlike any other being on this planet. Their feelings can go beyond what is biologically imprinted into them. The way others see us can too be changed in accordance to this, though it is a more difficult process.”

Kaworu looked back at her earnestly. “I’ve never changed my exterior with the sole purpose of changing others’ perceptions of me, it was just for fun.. But,”

Now it was Shinji’s turn to encourage Kaworu to continue. She leaned in to show interest.

“While biologically I am completely aligned with what you know as male, I couldn’t quite align myself with what Lilin sees as man. I’m sure you feel the same, in a different sense.”

She nodded pensively. Kaworu was able to verbalize the feeling so easily, more articulate than Shinji was when she had shared her side of things, for sure.

“We differ in the way that masculine terms don’t repulse me as they do you, nor do feminine terms attract me and vice versa. I’m indifferent to any interpretation, I simply pursue whatever feels the most enriching.”

Shinji, admittedly, found that concept new and challenging to fully understand. Since that terrible experience with the Twelfth Angel, there had been a firm line between the two, one that he had been trying to cross. Yet Kaworu dismissed that line and treaded freely, which was incredibly admirable in and of itself.

“I think I get it.” She said all the same, chest filled with warmth. “That’s great, Kaworu. I'm glad you have it figured out.” There was a different type of joy written into Kaworu’s expression now, something beyond his distinctive smile. He placed the tool back in the pouch, and she zipped it up, taking it off her lap and placing it beside her. “And thank you again for the gift.. and also for this talk. I feel a lot better now.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you.” Countered Kaworu, “I’ve never discussed this with anyone. ”

“Really? It was way easier for you to articulate than it was for me.” She cringed inwardly. “You definitely put it in better terms than I did.”

“Hm. I’ve had more time to muse over it.” Kaworu concluded. Then, in an act that would bring a storm of butterflies fluttering in Shinji’s stomach, he reached up and gently grabbed the strands of hair on Shinji’s neck, twirling them absently between his thumb and pointer fingers. “You haven’t. Your hair hasn’t grown out very much. Would you like to grow it out?”

Simultaneously, goosebumps had coated Shinji’s skin and her hairs stood on end. For a moment she sat rigid, unable to string together a response with the garbled mush that her brain had become. “Um,” She began unevenly. “Y-yeah.. I don’t know if it would suit me though.”

“I think it would. It’s you, after all,” At last, Kaworu’s hand ceased its movements and returned to where it formerly rested on the bed, much to Shinji’s relief, and maybe also to her disappointment. Still, his words were not lost on her. “It’s.. me?”

“I’m saying you’re beautiful regardless of whatever hairstyle you choose.”

It’s miraculous that she wasn't drinking water at that point, because she most certainly would have either spat it out or choked on it. She didn’t need the hotness of her cheeks to tell her she had turned beet-red. In the garbled mess that her mind becomes, Shinji thinks, That's not something guys tell each other. Before she comes to her senses and feels like she could get impossibly redder. “O-Oh, thank you.”

Kaworu moves on as if he'd said nothing at all.

“Either way, there are plenty of women with shorter hair; Ms. Ritsuko, Ms. Ibuki, and the First Children to name a few.”

She marvels in being given something else to think about. That was true. Ms. Ibuki’s hair was much like Shinji’s current hairstyle, so she tried to envision herself with Ms. Ritsuko’s sharp bob, or Ayanami's short and shaggy blue cut. Ultimately, it didn’t invoke the same floaty excitement that the long, sweeping hair of Misato and Asuka did. She imagined how it would look if she decided to curl it, or how it would flow in the breeze behind her whenever she went outside on a windy day. Even the image of it messily sticking to her forehead after she woke up, disheveled and appearing more like a bird’s nest than anything, was appealing as ever.

“Mm.” Shinji made a sound that feigned agreement, “Yeah, I.. I would really like longer hair, though. It’s just going to take forever to grow.” And by then, what would she tell Asuka and Misato? She'd have to say something eventually, before Asuka complained and forced her into the barbershop herself. Suddenly the prospect of having hair like Rei felt more reasonable.

It was as if Kaworu could sense Shinji shrinking into herself again. “The time will pass before you know it.” He assures. “And in the meantime you have your makeup kit. Ah, I nearly forgot, would you like for me to show you how to use everything?”

“Oh..” Shinji’s gaze flickers to the bag, then back to Kaworu. “Like, on yourself?”

“If you’d like. But I’d be just as happy to demonstrate it on you.”

She breaks eye contact as she once again becomes overwhelmingly aware of the buzzing under her skin. Something about it still feels… forbidden. Allowing herself to fully indulge in this would be another admittance of guilt. There would be no turning back. “Maybe I can just point to them, and you can tell me what they’re for?”

Kaworu is unbothered by what is undeniably Shinji rejecting his offer. “Sure.” He says, pushing the bag towards her. “Take your pick.”

“Okay..” Suddenly a bag this small feels bottomless with choice. She points at a black, capped item with a picture of a bristled, thin brush on it. “What’s this one for?”

“That’s mascara, it’s for your eyes. It can make your lashes longer and the whites pop out.”

Unfortunately, either Kaworu just hadn't gotten the hint or wasn't letting the idea go, because then he asked, “Would you like to try it?”

Shinji wasn't so easily won over, though, not with this. She shrunk. “Ah.. I don’t know. It's not that I don't want to, I just haven’t told Misato or Asuka about me.” Nor would she ever. “They’d find it weird if I went home and.. showed up wearing makeup.”

Feeling vulnerable, Shinji finishes with a dry laugh, trying to lighten the mood. It proves ineffective as Kaworu’s smile falters, an awful sight that brings an equally awful feeling. She’s used to others looking at her with pity, but she doesn’t like how it looks on Kaworu because she knows it’s not the same type of pity. It is fiercely, dizzyingly genuine, coming out of care rather than objective truth, and it scares her.

“If you like, I could just start with one side and see how you like it. There's a makeup remover in the bag.” Kaworu insists, reaching for the bag yet again to take out a small packet that looks like a wet wipe dispenser. “We can wipe it off before you go home. They’ll be none the wiser.”

Oh. Shinji’s breath hitched, her expression loaded with equal parts apprehension and intrigue- the first flickering of excitement beginning to peak its head. If there were no consequences, then..

Heart aflutter, she stammered out, “U-Um.. sure, okay..”

“Wonderful! In that case I'll do mascara.. eyeliner.. the lash curler… I have blush as well.” It was like watching a flower bloom- and Shinji thinks Kaworu really could be the sun by the way he lights up, readjusting just a little too quickly to hide his excitement. Rarely did Kaworu display such passion. As if on command, he takes her face in his palm– ah. Now that Shinji had offered the other permission, Kaworu was taking the task very seriously. So seriously, that their proximity to each other had Shinji feeling the puff of Kaworu's breath against her nose, red eyes staring daggers into hers. Oh, on second thought, he probably wasn't staring at her eyes, he was trying to look at her eyelashes. “Keep still the best you can, alright?”

“Okay.” She says hoarsely, and decides to focus her attention on… well, there's not much else to look at really. All she can see is Kaworu, diligently working away. Even if he was the one asking her, she was pretty sure she could ask him for anything and he’d do it without second thought. Hopefully, he couldn’t feel the warmth of her face against his palm.

So she focuses on the sensation. It's odd, unlike anything she's ever felt. Who knew makeup felt so heavy? Not to doubt Kaworu's abilities, but was it meant to feel this way?

There wouldn't be much time to linger on the thought as Kaworu was suddenly taking Shinji's chin and tilting it upwards with great care, delicate as could be. “Just so I can do your bottom lashes as well. Then I'll curl them.” He clarified, and if Asuka were here now, Shinji would have never heard the end of it.

“Your eyes,” Kaworu begins, as if to drown Shinji in more reasons to be relieved it was only the two of them. “Come to think of it, your whole face… I don't think a single stroke of concealer or contour would be needed to uplift such perfection.”

He had to be trying to kill her. For a moment, she felt the compulsion to run away, as she always did when things got too close to comfort. What if one day,

she lost this? Still, Kaworu's pleasant words demanded a reply.

“P-perfection?”

“Yes. Makeup elevates your likeness, but never truth. With a visage and heart like yours… elevation is hardly needed.”

Kaworu decides to finish this statement by pulling back and admiring his work, although Shinji has been at a loss since he opened his mouth. “All done.” He says proudly, breaking their eye contact to reach for the hand mirror and turn it towards her. “How do you like it?”

“Oh.”

Silence stretches between them.

“Oh?”

“I mean- I-It’s nice. I look nice.”

‘Nice’ was a huge understatement. Shinji looked prettier than she felt she'd ever looked in her whole life, and when had her hand trailed up to her face? She traced her fingers over her cheek, in a way that was so unmistakably girly that made it impossible for her not to smile.

That does Kaworu in. “I agree.. like a living painting!” He remarked as he traced over the tool with his finger. “So do you want me to do the other side?” Though his hand had already trailed up to her other cheek, gaze trained adoringly on her other eye.

She huffs out a laugh that devolves into a full on, nervous giggle.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Um, do you have any lipstick?”

—

Later, when the two are sitting elbow to elbow as Shinji looks into the hand mirror again, now sporting a full face of makeup and an unrestrained grin, Kaworu speaks,

“Shinji, tell me, does this bring you happiness?”

At first it almost feels like an accusation, but it's Kaworu, so it cannot be anything but genuine. Her answer requires no thought at all.

“Yeah! Why do you ask?”

Kaworu smiles.

“No reason.”

He shifts, resting his head against her shoulder.

“I'm just glad you've found your happiest self.”