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Shinji stares at the doorknob for exactly 98 seconds before gathering the courage to touch it. 42 seconds pass as he keeps his hand still, or as still as he can manage as he grips it so tightly that his arm begins to shake. It takes all but 10 seconds for him to take a deep breath and thrust the door open, and another 20 until he exhales. He takes a step in and then another, 12 seconds in between each, and he walks at an irregular pace for 22 seconds before finding himself hovering over a single piece of notebook paper torn out sloppily and laid out on the otherwise empty desk.
It’s cold enough to make the hairs on his arms stick up but the chill Shinji feels has nothing to do with the temperature. A snake crawls up his back slowly, icy scales squirming through each vertebrae and as it reaches his neck he twitches. The feeling doesn’t subside but wraps around his torso instead and suddenly he feels as if his entire digestive system is going to spew out his mouth. A muffled gagging sound jabs into the thick silence but it doesn’t quite cut through, and Shinji all at once becomes aware of the absence of sound as it sticks to his skin and fills every pore on his body. It’s slimy and chunky and gooey and Shinji begins to scratch at his arms. It doesn’t work. The feeling of death still lingers. A rancid smell fills Shinji’s nose and he tells himself it’s all in his head but it doesn’t stop the fumes of flesh decaying from dancing into his nostrils.
328 seconds have passed while Shinji took in his surroundings and he’s hunched over a desk: sick, nervous, and afraid. There’s a thought in the back of his mind telling him what an idiot he’d been and it gets louder and more frequent in the 122 seconds he spends scratching at his head, begging for the taunting to stop. It takes 3 seconds for Shinji to glance at the paper on the desk and catch his name mixed in a jumble of words and phrases. It takes 5 seconds for him to grab it with such force that it almost tears in two.
"Dear Shinji…" He starts to say, but the silence is still too think for his voice to pierce through, and it hurts to have it reverberate back at him. It comes back around like pins in his skin and he’s encased in gelatin and it’s suffocating. He ignores it and reads on, repeating to himself that everything is in his head. 19 seconds have gone by.
"I’m sorry, but I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know how to sleep with you beside me. I couldn’t waste any time that I was allowed to look at your face. I’m sorry for deceiving you."
Guilt is a bitch and Shinji feels the brunt of it as Kaworu apologizes from beyond the grave that Shinji made for him. If he wasn’t close to tears already they were clawing up his ducts now but he wouldn’t let them fall.
"As you slept, I touched your face. Your skin is smooth and tanned and thin around your eyes from sleep deprivation but beside me you slept soundly. Nothing makes me happier than knowing that you were so relaxed around me. I know you were nervous, I know that I make you nervous, and I understand, and I’m sorry for that too. I’m also sorry for touching your face without permission. Maybe next time you’ll let me."
In 38 seconds he crinkles the paper in his hand and screams. It’s loud and pathetic and he’s gargling on his own saliva as he chokes down a sob. He finally manages to break through the silence. He doesn’t care.
"I’m sorry, but I kissed you as well. It was selfish and wrong, I know. You were weak and I took advantage of you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I enjoyed it so much. I’m sorry that I savored the taste on your lips and I’ll continue to savor it for as long as I live."
Shinji spits at the irony. His hands are shaking and there’s a burning in his throat but he’s still maintaining his composure.
"I’m sorry that even though we haven’t known each other long, I still feel that I was certainly born to meet you. I was born to meet you, to know you, to love you in the ways that you cannot love yourself. No matter what happens after this, I’ll continue to love you. No matter how many times that we’re reborn, I’ll love you until the cycle begins again."
There’s one last line that he’s already seen out of the corner of his eye but he’s avoiding it. Even as he takes an 8 second breath he’s refusing to look at, and when he finally faces it head on, he can’t dare speak it.
"And Shinji, I forgive you."
He’s crying now. The paper is crumpled in his hand as he’d crumpled onto the floor. Tears and snot and saliva cover his face and he’s a shaking, screaming mess. The wooden floor is like ice against his bare skin but he ignores it. He lays there for what seems like hours, perhaps more, perhaps less. He’s stopped counting time. He just wants it to end.