Chapter Text
The Insoluble
By Deepsea Goose
We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated heart
Till someone find us really out.
— Robert Frost, <Revelation>
Episode 0 : A Place Apart
My hair was sticking to my neck again.
I pushed it aside and felt the air get in. The hallway was cool enough. That stretch of road downstairs had been so bright it hurt my eyes. Should have left sooner. Another line to stand in, and he still had things to ask me.
Hikari would probably ask tomorrow.
Just say it was boring. Surely I’m allowed to say that much. If she presses her lips together again—my heel scraped the floor. I planted it and reached for the door.
Music inside.
Not the television. I pushed the door farther open and heard the fine scrape of bow on string. The next notes covered it, moving lower.
Shinji? It really was.
I left my shoes in the entryway and stepped onto the floor inside. His bow moved out along the strings; a turn of the wrist brought it back. His face was lowered, his left hand against the neck of the cello. Up a little, stop, then shift. Those notes were close together. His fingers didn’t get tangled up either.
So you can do this too.
Don’t stop yet. I didn’t quite catch that bit before. Is it going to go up again now… No, down. The bow changed direction. I could hardly hear the seam.
You never mentioned it.
I moved farther into the room. The floor was warmer than the entryway. He wasn’t hunching his shoulders. The hand holding the bow was well away from his body; he raised his elbow and didn’t hurry to tuck it back in. Usually he had to check everyone’s face before he could answer a question. His hands knew where to go, though.
Over forty percent. Without any training.
Mr. Kaji had said it so casually. The glare on the deck hurt my eyes. That boy stood among the others and only spoke when someone asked him something. Over forty percent, him? And at the top of the escalator, didn’t he just stand there staring? With Unit-02 right in front of him, he ought to have seen how it was different from his Unit-01.
Switch to German and he couldn’t do it. Baumkuchen. Of all things. Is food the only thing in your head?
Then he had to reach over and move the controls with me. That mouth wouldn’t open. Teeth crowded the screen, and the battleships were already—
Open.
My jaw ached from clenching it. I let my teeth part. The music was still going. His hand slid a little way down the strings. Shinji could shout plenty loud. His voice and mine were all mixed up; I couldn’t tell them apart. Who shouted first? Who cares. It opened.
Ask him again and he’d probably say he just got lucky.
The tip of the bow lifted and came down again. That tiny gap, and my toes were already about to move with it. This isn’t the music we practised to.
Hadn’t I heard that piece enough? Rewind. Start again. Shoes sliding on the floor, the other hand reaching out as I turned. Don’t crash into—too early. And Shinji insisted I was the one who’d turned too soon. Next time he was late. We couldn’t even stop in the same place. Six days. Open my eyes and there he was, wearing the exact same clothes as me. That look on Hikari’s face when she peered into the room. I wanted to shut the door.
He doesn’t have to wait for me here.
His left hand held the strings down; his right was already moving on. Shinji didn’t look up. I didn’t say anything either. A little longer. It’s not as if I’m not allowed to listen.
Miss Perfect stepped into place and suddenly everyone was happy. The music hadn’t even finished before Misato started. So what if she could keep up with Shinji? Couldn’t they let me finish practising? Unit-02 wasn’t hers.
And Shinji outside the door, looking as though he wanted to say something. That was annoying too. Don’t come telling me how well she did. I could see. Whatever he had ready to say, I’d cut him off first. What was it, anyway?
Why ask that now?
When we turned in the second half, he was already in position. I didn’t have to pull my hand back. We hit the next beat together. And that last drop, the two shadows side by side. Yes. Like that. If you could do it, how did you get it wrong so many times before?
The bow hair made a grainy sound against the strings. I waited to hear it again, but it didn’t come. Shinji turned his wrist inward a little. His cuff slid back.
Could that wrist hold on? It was so thin. My fingertips began to tingle.
Nothing underneath. The cable snapped and all that weight dropped. I still had the controls in a death grip. Everything above was getting farther away. Can’t let go. Nothing to grab even if I did. Unit-02’s hand reached out—
It was caught.
That arm reaching into the red. Purple. Without the protection it was supposed to have. Jumping down into that heat—did you even look at the temperature? Nothing outside the armour, not even—
Shinji drew the bow back. A small patch of light changed on the body of the cello.
My clenched hand loosened a little. It wasn’t that hot. The floor was still there. My feet were on something.
I’d already killed the Angel. Coolant in, shell cracking, that resistance as the knife went in. No mistaking it. Why did the cable have to break right then? All that was left was to pull me up. Then they’d all see. And he’d laughed at how Unit-02 looked in that suit. How else was I supposed to go down there?
Shinji hadn’t even bothered with the ugly equipment. Idiot.
Weren’t you scared you wouldn’t get back up either? I was still falling. You didn’t have a single layer of protection and you just—that hand held so tight. The pull on Unit-02’s arm hurt my shoulder too. Fine, let it hurt. Don’t let go. Still a long way up. A little higher.
Now that hand was holding a bow.
His fingers closed and loosened, hardly any effort at all. Why had I thought about his wrist? Unit-01’s arms weren’t modelled on his. What did it matter if they were thin?
Stop staring there. The cello rested between his knees. One patch of wood was darker. The bow moved out and the last of the sound thinned away. I was still waiting for the next phrase when he stopped.
“Not bad! I didn’t know you played.”
Shinji turned around and looked up at me.
“I’ve been studying since I was five, and this is all I can do,” he said, glancing down at the cello, “so I don’t really have any talent.”
What do you mean, all you can do? Was that somebody else sitting here just now?
Five. So that was—nine years. I’d barely got the compliment out before he pushed it back at me. Why did even saying something nice have to be such a pain?
“Perseverance is power. I’m a little impressed.”
“I started studying because my teacher told me to, so I could have quit anytime.”
I watched him, waiting for a but. None came. His hand was still resting on the cello.
“Then why did you keep going?”
“Because nobody told me to stop.”
…That’s it?
“I should have known!”
Now I wanted to take it back. Nine years, and you never thought about it yourself? You could at least say you liked this part. Your hands know how to play it, so you want to keep playing. Anything. But no, you have to wait for somebody to say something. Your teacher told you to start. Your teacher didn’t tell you to—
Steam rose from the bowl. One compliment from his father, and there was Shinji in the ramen shop, smiling like that. Then he lowered his head as he talked, as though he was afraid somebody might hear. His voice was quiet, but he couldn’t keep his mouth from turning up. That was why he piloted an Eva.
What if he doesn’t say it?
Then you don’t want to anymore? Something that nearly gets you killed, and one thing he doesn’t say can—
Shinji’s mouth moved. I looked away from his hand. He was asking why I’d come back so early. Not talking about the cello anymore.
Early? He’d thought I was staying out for dinner.
With that guy? The afternoon was long enough. Find another place to sit and hear the same things in a different order. He even waited for me to laugh before he did. Hikari only had to introduce us. She didn’t have to go.
I told him I’d left while we were in line for the roller coaster. Shinji actually thought that wasn’t very nice.
What are you sticking up for him for? You’ve never even met him. If I’d stayed, he still wouldn’t have noticed I didn’t want to listen anymore. Maybe he’d have somewhere else to go after dinner too. One nod after another. Who wants that?
Shinji probably would. He could sit there answering questions all evening, afraid to leave until somebody said it was all right—he’d just said nobody told him to stop. Playing the cello isn’t the same thing.
I brought up Mr. Kaji. If we were talking about real men, there was Mr. Kaji.
There was. With him, at least I didn’t have to think of his next line for him. When he looked at me like that, I might forget a little of what I’d meant to say, but then I could go on. A little more was fine too. He’d listen.
Except for that smile sometimes. Treating me like a kid again. Next time I’d get it all out before he could change the subject. Perfume isn’t just for grown-ups. Misato wouldn’t even—
That patch of light was still on the cello.
Shinji hadn’t argued. What was that piece he’d just played? I could still follow the first few notes in my head. Then I got to the place where it changed direction and all I had left was the way his fingers moved.
I could ask. But he’d already said he had no talent. If I asked now, it’d look as though I couldn’t bear to take the compliment back.
Play it or don’t. Whatever.
The call was over.
Late again. Just go to bed without her. Nice and easy for her. How late? Does morning count as a little late too? Mr. Kaji was there. How early could it possibly be?
And Shinji thought that was supposed to make it better. They wouldn’t stay out till morning, surely. Mr. Kaji was with her—
That’s exactly why.
I said so. What was so hard to understand? Misato hadn’t dressed like that to go and buy a can of beer. And Mr. Kaji…
Let them.
Fine, we’ll go to bed. We don’t need her to come home and turn out the lights. Tomorrow she’d smell of alcohol, hunting for her shoes in the entryway, laughing when she couldn’t find them. Mr. Kaji would probably laugh too. My back teeth pressed together at the thought of them standing there. I moved my tongue away.
Don’t think about it. It only got clearer. Misato’s laugh, her shoulders, Mr. Kaji’s face turned toward her as he spoke. I hadn’t even seen them, and I could make up the voices too. So annoying.
Hardly a word in the apartment, though.
Shinji already had his earphones in. He sat beside the sliding door, his back against the frame, an open book on his knees. Head down, one hand at the edge of the page. Just sitting there. Not in any hurry to go to bed either.
I sat down at the kitchen table and bent my right arm across it. Then my left, and laid my left ear on that arm, face turned to the right. Skin against skin. A little hot. I shifted away and settled back down. Just right for seeing him.
Is the book that good?
I lifted my left index finger and tapped once. The sound travelled up my arm to my ear, louder than I’d expected. The second tap was softer. Nothing from Shinji.
Not that I was calling you.
All those words crowded onto the page, slanting away from where I was. He read them easily enough. That problem at the pool—if it hadn’t been for all those kanji crammed together, I wouldn’t have needed to ask him. All he had to do was read it out. The answer wasn’t hard. Heat makes things expand, cold makes them contract. Why couldn’t the book just say that?
The bottom of the pool was dazzling blue. Turn, bring my legs up, go over backwards—the water filled my ears and I couldn’t hear anyone. Wipe the water off my face when I came up. Look toward the side first. He was still there.
I’d told him to watch. What about now?
My finger came down again. I tucked the nail back, let only the pad touch the table. Nothing to watch. Lying here wasn’t much of a trick. If I called him, he’d probably take his earphones out, then ask what was wrong. Still have to wait for me to say it.
Say what?
Ask what he’s reading? No way. Then he’d actually turn the book round and start explaining what the people in it were doing, and I’d have to listen. Hadn’t I done enough of that this afternoon?
Shinji probably wouldn’t talk that much. Sometimes he thought I talked too much. He didn’t say it, but his eyes had already started looking away. When he was arguing his own side, though, he had plenty to say. He even said I’d landed too early—we’d both moved at the same time. Everyone in the command centre could hear us. Didn’t even know when to shut up.
Now he did. He turned a page.
His hand slid off the paper and came to rest beside his knee. Too far away to make out anything on his knuckles. The cello wasn’t between his knees anymore either. All that space, and he was sitting just the same.
I’d already paid him back.
Somebody had to stand in front while the rifle was retrieved from below. My turn. Acid struck Unit-02. The weight pressed down on my shoulders, but I couldn’t move my feet. Let Miss Perfect get it. Shinji could shoot. I could hold. A few shots, and it was over.
I’d made it clear too. He’d agreed. So quick to agree.
What, did I want him not to? That would be even more annoying. Nobody owed anybody anything. Mount Asama was over and done with. So why did my hand still—
My left arm had gone numb under my head. I lifted my face a little and found another place to rest it. My own breathing stayed close to my ear.
It was over.
Shinji’s eyes were lowered, fixed on the page. The same eyes he looked at people with. One glance up, and he’d suddenly ask something strange.
Existence.
I said talent, didn’t I? Let them see what I could do. What was wrong with that? With this much talent, I could hardly hide it away and never use it. He had to change the word. As though I’d left something out and he was filling it in for me.
Who asked you to? But how did you even think of that?
I’d already said yes. Then he went and asked Miss Perfect. Easy answer from her. Orders. That only made it more annoying. No point going on. What about Shinji’s own answer? That little smile in the ramen shop. Commander Ikari had praised him.
Don’t think about that face. Once I did, it was harder to get the insults out. He deserved them. Who asked him to tell me any of that? We hadn’t even eaten our noodles yet.
Are you waiting too—
The edge of the book moved. My eyes went to his hand. He hadn’t looked up. Just flattening a folded corner.
Look if you want. Why look away? He can’t see me now anyway. I looked back at him. Hair hanging down to his eyebrows, lips pressed together. He looked a little more settled than when he was answering somebody. Like when he’d been playing. When he kept his mouth shut, he could get on with something. Open it, and everything had to shrink back.
And then you wonder why people tell you off.
Softer. One more. My finger landed wrong; the nail clicked against the table. I stopped. He had his earphones in. He couldn’t possibly hear that.
Maybe he could. Maybe he was pretending not to.
Call him an idiot. That’d get a reaction. Eyes up, that look already on his face before he’d even worked out what he’d done wrong this time. Of course I knew it. I saw it every day. But if I called him an idiot now, he hadn’t actually done anything. Just holding a book, how could he—
He could. Just looking at him was annoying. But if he put the book down, what was he supposed to do?
Suddenly I could hear him cheering when Misato offered to buy us steak. Such a bad act. We all thought she was just sending us out to die, and he had to make her feel better about it. I’d joined in too. Bunch of idiots. And when we actually got to the restaurant, I was the one who had to think about whether she had enough money.
What if he answered like that now? Whatever I said, he’d say yes. I’d hear it and know he was saying what I wanted to hear. Then why ask him?
But I hadn’t even asked.
My breath had warmed the skin of my left arm. I turned my face outward a little, keeping my ear where it was. Shinji’s earphone cord hung down the front of his shirt. Follow it and there was the player. That old thing. The same few tracks, round and round. He knew them that well and he still had to plug up both ears.
The whole room had been full of his playing earlier.
He could play another piece. All I had to do was ask. The cello hadn’t disappeared. But it was late. He was the one who’d put his earphones in. Why should I have to—
He didn’t have to play. Just look up.
The thought had barely come before my right hand drew in a little across the table. I looked at the book on his knees. If he did look up, where would he look first? If he saw me lying here staring at him, what would his face do?
I’m not staring. You’re everywhere I look. This place is only so big.
The earphone cord lay against the side of his neck. I knew his voice. Even with my eyes shut, I could tell which words were going to turn into an argument and which would just trail off. Sometimes he had more to say, but he waited. Waited until I got impatient and cut him off first.
Then say it sooner. It’s not like I never listen.
The book lay open on his knees. Neither of us spoke.
Why was I thinking about training again?
The doorframe was just behind his shoulder.
Jericho. His face, then the panel sliding across it.
I was still on my hands and knees, the top of my head pressed against the door. My hair hung down around my face. There was a little space between my fingers; I pushed them together.
Nothing from the other side.
Already asleep? That fast?
The panel was hard through my hair. I shifted one palm. My head stayed where it was.
He could at least—
Stupid Shinji.
A page turned. His hand slid down the book, smoothing the paper. I settled my cheek against my arm again.
The bedding on the floor, and Shinji asking whether I’d been awake—he actually asked. Who said I was awake? I’d only said it offhand. Even when I asked him again, I still hadn’t believed it. All those people in the command centre, and he didn’t even lower his voice.
Almost.
His own word. Almost. Then straight away he had to add that he’d stopped. In such a hurry to get that part in, as though I might not have heard.
Fine. Stop. See if I care. But what were you coming over for?
My left index finger hung above the table. I let it drop. A little later, another tap. No rhythm. All over the place.
He knew I was asleep. So why come over? How close had his face been? Close enough to hear me breathe? Closer? Just thinking about it made the skin under my face hotter. Don’t. He’d said it himself. He hadn’t touched me.
What happened to your nerve after that?
Is it only when I’ve got my eyes shut that you—
Stop thinking. He still had the book. He hadn’t done anything. All that distance between us, but my right arm was already pressed hard against the table. Even my shoulder had gone stiff. Ridiculous.
Unclench your hand.
If he stood up now and came over, could I keep looking at him? A few steps. From the door to here. Hardly any time if he walked fast. First he’d reach the table, then—no. Why was I thinking about this?
I lowered my eyes. That little patch of table beside my face would disappear as soon as I closed them. Go to bed. Hadn’t Misato told us to go to bed without her? He’d be here tomorrow morning, still saying half of what he meant. I could still yell at him. Nothing different.
I shut my eyes, then opened them. Shinji’s head was still down.
Is saying one thing to me that hard?
He doesn’t know. Nobody’s called him. His earphones shut out the sounds around him. He’d probably read these pages, close the book and go back to his room. He could really just leave like that, not even—
I’m right here.
My lips moved. No sound. Of course he didn’t look up.
Even if I called him, he’d hear his name and wait for the next sentence. So say I’m bored. I was bored. Bored all afternoon, bored all evening—if I told him that, would he hand me the book? I don’t want the book.
What about a kiss?
My finger stopped on the table.
Too sudden.
Why not? I’d been on a date this afternoon. What’s so strange about asking? I’m not a little kid. It’s not as if I want him to—
What if he asks why?
I swallowed. My throat was still tight. Because I’m bored. Hadn’t I worked that out already? Three words. How hard could they be to say? If he took it seriously and got that flustered look, I could still laugh at him. And if he didn’t take it seriously.
Don’t laugh.
My finger dragged a short way across the table. Who was I telling not to laugh? I hadn’t even said anything and look at the state I’d got myself into. Shinji hadn’t so much as put the book down. He didn’t know a thing. What if he heard me and backed away again, said there was no need, or looked at the door first to see if Misato was coming home—
Misato wasn’t coming home. Not now, anyway.
If he didn’t hear, I’d have to say it again. Wait for him to take his earphones out and look at me, then get that word out again—
My left ear was pressed against my arm. My heartbeat thudded beneath it. I held my fingertip against the table. No more tapping. The sound was still in my ear.
I still hadn’t asked about that piece. That would be easy. He’d answer. What was it called, how long had he practised it, did he know any others? Then I’d have to hear him say he had no talent again. Idiot. You played it really well.
I could ask that first.
Shinji’s hand was still at the edge of the book. About to turn the page, probably. Head down like that, he couldn’t see anything. Yet when I hadn’t even mentioned it, he’d somehow asked whether it was for my own existence.
What about now? Now all he cared about was his book.
I opened my right hand and laid my palm against the table. I could still see his lowered eyes, the small shadow at the corner of his mouth. Say his name first. It didn’t have to be loud. If I regretted it as soon as I opened my mouth, there was still time to say I was going to bed.
I opened my mouth. No breath came.
I’m not waiting for him to look up.
The fingers of my left hand curled, then loosened. I didn’t hide my face in my arm again. I took another breath, still looking his way.
“Hey, Shinji. Do you want to kiss?”
To be continued...