Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Crack!

“Damn it,” Shinji mumbled, setting down his cello and kneeling to pick up the scattered broken pieces of rosin. That’s the second one this week, he thought bitterly. He knew he was nervous—classes started tomorrow—but to be this clumsy was pathetic. Tossing the rosin into the wastebasket under his desk, he sat back down on his practice stool and pulled out a fresh block from his cello case. I don’t even know why I’m here. It’s not like I’m that impressive of a player, he thought, mindlessly dragging the rosin back and forth across his bow hair.

He paused, looked down at his cello, and sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow.

After a moment, he tossed the rosin back into its case and opened the book of exercises on the music stand in front of him, specifically Bach’s Cello Suites . They were basic, well-worn repertoire for any cellist, but Shinji loved starting his practice sessions with Bach. After tuning his instrument and running through a few scales, he began with Suite 1.

As his fingers moved through the familiar notes all his cares seemed to melt away. His insecurities, his anxiety about the coming week—all of it faded into the background. Bach always brought him a fleeting peace, a sense of quiet amidst the chaos in his mind.

As he reached the climatic end of the suite, he closed his eyes. He’d played this piece so many times that he didn’t need to read the sheet music. He let the music wash over him, his fingers moving almost instinctively as they walked up the neck of the cello, drawing closer to the final notes. Upon hitting the last chord, he opened his eyes, feeling a renewed sense of determination.

I must not run away. I can do this, he thought resolutely. With that thought in mind, he continued the rest of his practice session.

Chapter Text

Shinji woke with a start to the sound of his alarm and groaned as his hand shot out from under the covers to silence it. Morning sunlight filtered through a gap in the curtains of his dorm room as he reluctantly sat up in bed. “This sucks,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Finally, when he felt awake enough to leave the coziness of his bed, he headed for the shared bathroom—only to find it occupied. How were his roommates already up? Shinji had set his alarm the night before thinking he'd get an early start to his first day of university, but apparently, Kensuke and Toji had other plans and were determined to get there even earlier.

Shinji banged on the door. "Hey, I really gotta pee! Can you hurry up?"

Toji's voice called back from the other side. "Snooze you lose, Shinji! I gotta get my hair right for today!"

Shinji cursed under his breath and retreated to his room to change while he waited. As he opened the curtains, he saw what looked like a beautiful spring day in the making. Cherry blossom buds floated past his window, carried by a gentle breeze. Although spring was the harbinger of summer, Shinji’s least favorite season, he could still enjoy its unique beauty before the trees filled out and the cicadas began to cry.

After dressing in his typical non-descript outfit—a white collared shirt and black slacks—he entered the now vacant bathroom to finish getting ready. He tried to smile at his reflection in the mirror but ended up sighing instead. I’m so plain, he thought, feeling defeated as he tried to smooth his short black hair into a presentable style. He gave up, huffed in frustration, and exited the bathroom—almost running into Kensuke as he did.

"Shinji! Gosh, aren't you ready to go yet?" Kensuke said, patting him on the back as he headed toward his room. "Toji and I already ate and everything. And why are you sighing like that? It's our first day!"

Shinji rolled his eyes and made his way to the kitchen for some quick coffee and toast. I know it’s my first day, that’s WHY I’m sighing, he thought as he ate, I don’t want to be here! I’m only here because Father made me audition for Kunitachi. I didn’t even want to come to this school. I don’t even know if I wanted to go to music school in general! But, I guess, I had nowhere better to go... it’s not like anyone cares about what I do. Why does he even want me here? He’s barely contacted me in the last 10 years...

His musings were interrupted when Toji and Kensuke both entered the kitchen, backpacks and instruments in hand.

"Come on! You’re gonna be late at this rate!" Toji said, lightly kicking Shinji's shin.

"Ow! Fine, I’m coming, just let me get my stuff," Shinji snapped, swallowing his last bite of toast as he scrambled to grab his bag and cello from his room.

---

Shinji was happy he didn’t forget his cardigan considering it was especially chilly on his walk to campus with his roommates. As per usual, Kensuke was talking Toji’s ear off about some jet he’d seen flying overhead earlier. Shinji didn’t understand why Kensuke was attending a music conservatory as a trumpeter—he clearly should have been in the air force. Maybe his vision had kept him from that dream? After all, he did wear some pretty thick glasses... Shinji shrugged off the thought, turning back to his own worries. He would be seeing his father today, briefly, but Dr. Ikari had summoned him before his first class for some sort of meeting. Why does he want to see me on my first day? Doesn’t he know I have enough to worry about? Not that he cares. He probably just wants to say, “Never mind, go home, Shinji.” The thought of being thrown away by him again gnawed at Shinji's stomach.

Shinji was so consumed by anxious thoughts that he didn't even hear Toji and Kensuke bidding him farewell as they headed off in the opposite direction to their classes. "Hey!" Kensuke shouted as they parted ways, snapping Shinji back to reality. "We’ll see you at the cafeteria for lunch, right? I’ll text you!"

Shinji nodded, offering a small smile and a wave as his roommates walked off. Alone again, he thought, turning toward Building One, where both his father’s office and his first class of the day were. He checked his watch—8:20 am. He had ten minutes until his meeting, then he’d head to his 9:00 am theory class. One step at a time. Don’t think too hard about everything that could go wrong today... or every day after. Just focus on finding Father’s office first.

Building One was architecturally interesting—six stories tall, with a beautiful outdoor staircase cut into one side, serving as a viewing area for performances in the courtyard below. Shinji headed toward the entrance on the first floor, flanked by the grand outdoor stairs on either side. He was so entranced by the building’s features that he didn’t notice when his hand reached for the door handle that someone else’s hand was already on it.

Realizing this, Shinji jerked his hand back and whipped his head toward the other person, already apologizing.

"Oh, um, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention—" Shinji began, but stopped short when he met the other person's gaze. It was a young man, likely another student, with the palest skin Shinji had ever seen. Not only that, his hair was nearly stark white. However, the most striking feature about him were his deep crimson eyes. Can people even have red eyes? Shinji wasn’t sure if that was possible, but he only glanced at the man’s face for a moment before quickly looking down at his shoes in embarrassment.

"That’s quite alright," the young man said softly. "Are you a first-year? You seemed entranced by the building. It’s certainly unique."

His voice was so soft, Shinji chanced a glance up to meet his eyes again. "Um, well, yeah, it’s my first day actually. I... I’d seen the building during the entrance ceremony, but walking into it, I guess I didn’t realize how interesting it was," Shinji said shyly.

"Yes, and with the blossoms right now..." The young man sighed contentedly. "The campus is just so beautiful this time of year."

He chuckled softly to himself and then opened the door he had been holding. "After you," he said to Shinji, gesturing toward the doorway.

Shinji bowed his head slightly, feeling his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. "Ah, thank you..." he mumbled. As they both entered Shinji suddenly blurted out, "Ah! So, um...where are you headed?"

The young man seemed a little surprised. "Oh, I’m going this way." He pointed to his right. "Music history, 9 a.m. I know I’m early," he added with an embarrassed laugh. "It’s my second year, but I guess everyone still gets nervous on their first day of something."

"Right," Shinji agreed, unsure of what else to say.

There was an awkward pause before the young man asked gently, "And you? Where are you going?"

Shinji paled when he realized he didn’t know. He knew Dr. Ikari’s office was in Building One, but he didn’t have a room number like he did for his theory class. "Oh, um, actually..." Shinji looked down at his feet. "I, um... I’m not sure. I knew his office was in this building, but that was it. I’m looking for Dr. Ikari’s office."

“Wow, the director! You must be important to have a meeting with him.” The young man laughed, his laugh was so sweet, musical even.

"Faculty offices are down the hall to the left," he said, pointing. "I’m not sure of Dr. Ikari’s office number, but his name should be on the door."

"Thanks, I—" Shinji began, but as he checked his watch, he saw it was 8:29 a.m. "Oh, I’m so sorry, I have to go! Um... thank you so much!" Shinji said quickly. He bowed hastily and turned toward the left-hand corridor.

"Good luck!" the young man called with a laugh, as he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

Chapter Text

Shinji stood in front of his father’s office. Dr. Gendo Ikari, Director, Kunitachi Conservatory of Music , the plaque beside the door read. He took a deep breath and knocked quietly. “Fa-Doctor Ikari? It’s Shinji... we, um, we had a meeting at 8:30?”

“Enter,” came a gruff reply. Shinji hesitated for a moment before slowly opening the door. His father, a tall man with a beard and red-tinted glasses that often obscured his eyes, sat behind a desk, his gloved hands steepled in front of him. Sunlight filtered through the window behind him, illuminating a plain office with few personal adornments.

"Shinji, how long has it been?" His father’s low, monotone voice echoed in the room.

"Christmas, three years ago," Shinji replied curtly. He just wanted to get the meeting over with—he knew his father didn’t want to speak to him any longer than necessary. At least they could agree on that.

"I know you have classes starting today, so I’ll keep this brief," Dr. Ikari began. "The only good thing you seemed to have inherited from your mother was musical ability. I want you, Shinji, to be the greatest musician to graduate from Kunitachi. It is my legacy—the Ikari legacy—that you must shoulder. If you cannot handle it, you can leave. This school is not for weaklings. The fact that I had to arrange a second audition for you after you failed the first was almost enough for me to disown you completely. Do not disappoint me again. Do you understand?"

Shinji stared at his father’s desk, his fists clenched tight. He hated him. He hated the crushing pressure to be the best. Why wasn’t he ever enough? His mind screamed for him to turn around and walk out, to not give his father the satisfaction of a response. But at the same time, a small voice inside him whispered to stay. If he could just be the best, maybe his father would finally be proud of him. Maybe then he wouldn’t be alone anymore. No more unfamiliar ceilings, no more quiet nights in an empty apartment. Finally, someone would care.

After a moment of silence, Shinji unclenched his fists and raised his eyes to meet his father’s. “I understand... Father,” he said.

“Good. Then we have nothing more to discuss,” Dr. Ikari replied, his attention shifting to the laptop in front of him. “I will contact you if I need anything further.”

Shinji hesitated for a moment, unsure if the meeting was truly over, but it quickly became clear that his father had finished speaking. He turned and exited the office, sighing as the door clicked shut behind him. That bastard , he thought bitterly. I’m his son, and he treats me like that. I know I have a lot riding on my shoulders. People are going to see my name and think I’m just here because my father is the school’s director.

Of course, he was here—at least in part—because his father was the school's director. He had to go through a second audition after what happened at his first one. Most prospective students didn’t get that opportunity; they had only one chance. Shinji had been given a second. Because I’m pathetic , he thought. He sighed again and began making his way to his first class of the day.

---

The cafeteria was too noisy for Shinji. Students crowded the tables, talking loudly as they ate. The various smells were also overwhelming; he didn’t do well in these kinds of environments. Kensuke had texted him to meet in the cafeteria but hadn’t specified where he and Toji would be sitting. The last thing Shinji wanted to do was wander through a crowded cafeteria with a cello and a backpack in tow. He finally gave up on trying to find his roommates. I’ll just get something from a vending machine, he thought.

However, as Shinji turned to leave, a hand landed on his shoulder. "Oh no you don't!" Toji said with a grin. "Come on, man, don't be so antisocial. We're lucky Kensuke spotted you before you decided to bail." He laughed and, with a firm hand, turned Shinji back toward the noise, leading him to a table where Kensuke was waving.

“How were classes today?” Kensuke asked, his mouth full of rice, as Shinji sat down.

“They were fine. I had a theory class and one of my electives. I chose art history,” Shinji replied quietly.

“Speak up, dude, it’s loud in here!” Toji said, tossing a plastic-wrapped bun at him. “Figured you’d be too chicken to get food when it’s this busy. It’s curry bread.” Shinji gratefully opened the plastic packaging and bit into the loaf, delicious curry filling spilling out. Wow, that was nice of him. I usually feel like a third wheel around these guys since they’ve known each other so much longer than me, but they’re treating me like a friend, even though they just got stuck with me as a roommate. Turning his attention back to his roommates he realized they were now discussing girls.

“Oh man, did you see that girl in the blue sweater? You KNOW a girl is busty when she can make a sweater look sexy. I couldn’t stop staring!” Toji laughed.

“Yeah, but what about the one with the blonde hair? I think she plays a wind instrument too. I hope I get to see her in my ensemble classes, she was so cute!” Kensuke replied, shoveling more rice into his mouth.

Just when Shinji thought these two really had nothing in common, they found a way to prove him wrong. They both loved talking about girls.

“How about you, Shinji? Any hotties in your classes today?” Toji asked, and they both looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, I didn’t really notice any...” Shinji replied awkwardly. Toji and Kensuke exchanged disappointed looks. Not only was he oblivious to girls, but he completely killed the conversation. There was a beat of silence before Shinji hesitantly continued, “Well, um, no girls really stuck out to me but...” he paused, would it be weird to mention a guy during a conversation about cute girls?

"I saw a guy who was super pale, with white hair and red eyes. He looked like an anime character! And I think it was all natural—his hair didn’t look dyed, and I don’t think he was wearing contacts..." he trailed off.

Judging by the looks he was receiving, Toji and Kensuke clearly weren’t interested in hearing about a guy. Well, they’re the ones that were pressuring me to talk about who I saw today! Shinji thought with a touch of annoyance. It’s not like I thought he was hot or anything, but it’s not every day you meet a person with such a unique appearance.

"Well," Kensuke began, "Do you know what major he is? What's his name?"

Shinji opened his mouth to respond but suddenly realized, I'm such an idiot! I didn’t even ask his name. He probably thinks I’m an asshole for being rude to an upperclassman. Embarrassed, Shinji looked down at his lap.

"I, um, only talked to him briefly. He helped me find my father's office, but I didn’t think to ask his name."

"Shinji?" Toji started, and Shinji looked up. "You suck.”

Shinji laughed along with them, but inwardly he agreed. I do suck.

Chapter Text

After lunch, the three roommates made their way to the largest practice hall for philharmonic rehearsal. Since Toji and Kensuke were both brass instrumentalists, Shinji was forced to part from them and join the cellists and other string players at the front of the room. Without seating assignments yet in their sections, Shinji quietly gravitated toward an open seat in the middle of the cello section. The last thing he wanted was to paint a target on his back by sitting at the first stand.

As the hall filled with the remaining students, someone took the chair next to Shinji, claiming the role of his stand partner for the day. He glanced at the student, a boy with tan skin and what appeared to be a permanent scowl. Shinji offered a quick smile that went unanswered. At least I won’t have to worry about talking to anyone during rehearsal, Shinji thought with relief. He looked back toward the front of the room and waited for rehearsal to begin.

---

Two hours later Shinji shouldered his cello case and looked to Kensuke and Toji in the back of the room. They seemed to be deep in talk with a blonde girl holding a clarinet, likely the one Kensuke had mentioned earlier. Toji said something that made her giggle and Shinji could see him practically salivating at her response. Guess I’m walking back to the dorms alone, he thought as he turned to leave the hall. 

As Shinji began the 15 minute walk back to the dorms he took out his cassette player and donned the earbuds. The 4th movement of Beethoven’s 9th symphony began with a timpani roll and exchanging of 8th notes between winds and brass before descending into one of Shinji’s favorite cello solos. He gazed up at the blossoming trees and closed his eyes as a gentle breeze caressed his face. Despite all the stress that music imposed on him, it also brought a sense of calm that he hadn’t been able to find in any other way.

Upon his arrival at the dorm, Shinji immediately headed to his room, dropping his cello and backpack unceremoniously as he collapsed onto his bed. Usually, he preferred to change into clean clothes before lying down, but today he couldn’t be bothered. It hadn’t been an overly busy day, but between meeting his father, learning his new schedule, and navigating the unfamiliar campus, he felt mentally drained. He closed his eyes, letting the sweet strains of the Ode to Joy continue flowing through his earbuds.

---

It was the next day, and Shinji had ended up passing out, sleeping through the entire previous night in his clothes. Fortunately, he had the forethought to shut his bedroom door before collapsing onto his bed, so Toji and Kensuke hadn’t seen him sprawled out like a corpse. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he had a later start to classes, beginning with Music Theory at 10 am., which had gone fairly smoothly. Rather than lugging his cello around aimlessly all morning like the day before, he decided to go back to his dorm before afternoon rehearsals to pick it up, making navigating the campus significantly easier today.

When he entered his afternoon Ensemble class with cello in tow he found a group of 7 other students seated in a semicircle, talking quietly amongst themselves. He took the last available seat next to the other cellist, a plain girl with brown hair in pigtails and freckles, who gave him a warm smile.

“Hi there, name’s Hikari Horaki, pleased to meet you.” 

“Shinji Ikari, same to you,” he replied with a smile. Before he could say anything further, there was a loud "IKARI?!" from the opposite end of the circle that silenced the rest of the students. A violinist stood sharply and stalked over to him. She didn’t appear to be Japanese, with long red hair partially tied into pigtails and blue eyes, but she spoke with a flawless accent. Leaning in close, she examined him with a grimace.

"Soooo, you're THE son of Dr. Ikari. You're really not much to look at," she scoffed.

“You barely even look like a college student, let alone the son of the DIRECTOR. How old are you anyway? You probably should be attending Kunitachi High School rather than university.” the girl sneered.

“I-I’m 19!” Shinji retorted, color rising in his cheeks, but she had already turned away, walking back to her seat with a huff. Before he had a chance to say anything more, a blonde woman entered the practice room. Wearing a short mini skirt with tights, heels, and bold red lipstick, she hardly looked like a typical college professor, but she faced the semi-circle with a small smile.

“Good afternoon, I’m your instructor, Dr. Ritsuko Akagi. Thank you for choosing Ensemble this semester. I’m a firm believer that working in small groups is the ideal way to improve as a musician. Over the next few months, we’ll have two group recitals, but I highly encourage you to form smaller groups and try working outside of school as well. Building connections with your fellow students and learning the basics of how you'll work as a professional musician is critical. Do not assume that being hired by an orchestra will be enough. Nearly every professional musician you meet will have multiple sources of income, so keep that in mind, especially you first-years."

She then reached into the large wheeled suitcase Shinji hadn’t noticed her pulling in when she entered. “Now,” she continued, “Here’s your repertoire for our first recital next month. The schedule is on your syllabus, which should be available on the student portal—study it like the Bible. Please take out Pachelbel’s Canon in G , and we’ll begin.”

---

2 hours later, as Shinji was cleaning the rosin residue off his cello’s strings, he was again approached by the boisterous violinist.

“You’re going to be in my quartet.” She said matter-of-factly..

Shinji looked at her in confusion, “I’m sorry?”

“Are you deaf?” she retorted. “I said you’re going to be the cellist for my quartet. I’ve already confirmed a second violinist and a violist. You heard Dr. Akagi— we should be forming quartets and playing outside of school. I trust, as the director’s son, that you can keep up. It’d be pretty pathetic if you carried a name like that and didn’t have any talent to speak of, after all. Now,” she shoved a piece of paper into his hand, “Here’s my contact information, and if you think this is me hitting on you then you’re dumber than you look. This is purely a professional relationship, you understand me?”

She turned to leave, but before she could exit the room, Shinji managed to find his voice. “Wait, I didn’t agree to any of this! I don’t even know your name, and what makes you think I want to be in your quartet? First of all, quartets should be collaborative, and second—”

She cut him off, spinning back around and jabbing a finger into his chest. “Listen, Shinji, you want to be in my quartet because I’m the best violinist in this whole damn school. I heard about your little,” she mimicked quotation marks with her fingers, “‘incident’ with your first audition. I want to see if you can hack it with the adults. You sounded serviceable in Ensemble today, and if my quartet has the Ikari name associated with it, we’re going to get first dibs on gigs, I guarantee you. So text me your number, and I’ll see you at our first rehearsal. Got it?”

She planted her hands on her hips and waited for his response.

Shinji considered. She’s a lot, he thought, but she did sound really good today, and clearly she knows how to lead a group as the first violinist. I doubt I’ll get any better offer, and joining a quartet will show Father I can take initiative.

“...Alright.” Shinji said, pulling out his phone and texting the number on the paper she’d given him. “You have my contact information. I look forward to working with you.” He bowed his head slightly.

“Ugh, Japanese and their overly respectful customs,” she muttered, grimacing, and turned to leave. But then she stopped at the doorway.

“Oh, and I’m Asuka Langley Soryuu, don’t you forget it. I’ll see you later, stupid.” She added with a grin, before finally turning and headed out of the practice room.

Chapter Text

“Ah, you must be Shinji.” the professor said with a warm smile. She was strikingly beautiful, though like Dr. Akagi, she didn’t quite fit the typical image of a university faculty member. Her long dark hair hung loosely around slim shoulders, and she wore a cropped red leather jacket with a short black dress that was far tighter than it should’ve been. A necklace bearing a clucky silver cross hung around her neck.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. As you know, I’m Dr. Misato Katsuragi, but you can call me Misato,” she chuckled. “I know I’m a professor, but ‘Dr. Katsuragi’ is just too formal. Especially since I primarily work one-on-one with all the cellists. It’d feel weird to keep things so stiff between us.”

Shinji sat face to face with Misato in an office that he surmised hadn’t been cleaned in some time—if at all. Empty ramen cups littered her desk, cardboard boxes filled to the brim with music scores piled behind her, papers spilling onto the floor. Even her recycling bin was filled with empty beer cans, which Shinji was sure would not be acceptable by school administration.

He refocused on Misato’s smiling face. “Okay, um, Misato. It’s nice to meet you too,” he said, his voice quiet and unsure. She chuckled again.

“You’re so quiet, Shinji. At least look me in the eyes when we talk! I don’t bite, promise.”

She paused for a moment before continuing, “Aaanyway, you have your first solo recital in three weeks, right?” She pushed some papers off her laptop keyboard and started typing something in. “Yep, three weeks from Friday. I was thinking we’d start with the first movement of Dvořák’s Cello Concerto and see how that goes. Sound like a plan?” She flashed him a warm smile, and Shinji nodded, feeling more at ease. Dr. Katsuragi—no, Misato—is really kind. I’m glad she’s my private tutor. Maybe I’ll actually be able to handle a public recital without choking if she’s instructing me...

“Great!” she said suddenly, standing up from behind her desk. “Let me grab my cello. Could you set up those chairs and music stands?” She pointed to a corner of the office where two chairs and stands were buried under more boxes of scores.

How are they already so obscured? Shinji thought, baffled. She must work with individual students at least once a day!

Nonetheless, he started unearthing the items, managing to clear away the piles of music without scattering too many papers. Once they were set up, with their cellos out and music sheets ready to go, Misato grinned at him.

“Well? Show me what you’ve got!” she said enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. Shinji took a deep breath, adjusted his posture, and began to play.

---

Between hours of intense practice and endless assignments from his non-music classes, Shinji's first week of school had flown by. Each evening, it felt like he could barely summon the energy to change into pajamas before collapsing into bed, only to immediately fall into an exhausted sleep. Is this going to be the next four years of my life? he thought miserably, trudging back to the dorms after a particularly grueling practice session. I’m barely holding on by a thread and it’s been ONE WEEK. There’s no way I can survive this. It’s Sunday, I should be well-rested and ready to start fresh tomorrow, but I’m more tired than ever... And it doesn’t seem to matter how much sleep I get, I’m exhausted!

Shinji let out a deep sigh and gazed up at the darkening sky. The clouds, illuminated with soft pink and purple hues from the setting sun, were slowly overtaken by the deep blue of night creeping in from the east. I... I can’t do this, he thought, feeling his chest tighten and his eyes become glassy. God, was he really going to cry? It had only been one week, and already he was giving up.

He wanted to retreat into his dorm room, pull the covers over his head, and stay there until starvation consumed him and finally silenced his anxious thoughts forever. Maybe that would be the only way he could ever find peace—maybe it would be the only way he could ever truly be happy.

He stopped walking. He couldn’t face anyone right now. Kensuke and Toji would both be home; they seemed to have an unspoken rule of always eating dinner together, despite their equally demanding schedules.

Shinji, on the other hand, felt like he could barely breathe this week. It was a constant pressure, one that had made even the simplest tasks feel overwhelming. And yet, his roommates—both of them—seemed to be handling their grueling workloads with ease. Sure, Shinji had heard them complain, and he knew they were struggling in their own ways, but they still had the energy to cook, to take care of themselves, to socialize. They could laugh and shrug off a stressful day like an old sweater.

Shinji turned and walked back towards the campus, putting in his earbuds and welcoming the sound of Beethoven’s 9th symphony. He knew he should be listening to the various recordings of all his current repertoire, but right now he didn’t want to think, he wanted to turn his mind off and let his feet carry him somewhere—anywhere. 

The campus was eerily quiet as Shinji walked past the various buildings. It was Sunday evening after all, and most students were either holed up in their dorms or visiting home, preparing for the week ahead. The air was cool, with a light evening breeze rustling through the cherry blossom trees overhead. Suddenly Shinji realized he was standing before a set of double doors.

It was the main performance hall. He’d only briefly seen the theatre during a tour of Kunitachi back in his last year of highschool. He hadn’t planned on walking here, but now that he was standing in front of it, he felt an odd pull to step inside. He reached for the handle, expecting it to be locked, but to his surprise the door swung open with ease. Shinji hesitated for a moment, unsure if he was allowed in. The lights were on, but he still wasn’t entirely convinced. I guess it’s fine, he thought, and with quiet steps, he entered the lobby.

The performance hall was modest in size, Kunitachi wasn’t a massive university after all. However, the lobby was well appointed with simple white tiles, a small bar area, and expansive floor to ceiling windows on the wall opposite of the hall’s entrance.  Shinji skirted the edge of the lobby, gazing at the various plaques and photos that lined the walls, depicting university alums and awards the school had received throughout its history. As the symphony he’d been listening to concluded and the cassette stopped he realized the hall wasn’t silent.

He took out his earbuds and listened. A piano played softly, barely audible, its notes echoing through the lobby. Are they playing music through a speaker system? Shinji wondered absently. No, he realized, someone was playing in the theatre itself. The music grew louder as he neared the doors into the hall. Who’d be practicing in here on a Sunday night? Shinji wondered. 

He hesitated, knowing that if he tried to peek inside, he might unintentionally announce his presence. Concert hall doors were usually heavy.

I know I shouldn’t spy on someone while they're practicing, Shinji thought, biting his lip. His gaze shifted to a set of doors marked "Staff Only" at the other end of the lobby. He suspected those likely led behind the stage. I could just take a quick look at who’s playing. They won’t even know I’m there! He reasoned. Plus, I can check out what the back of the stage looks like...for when I have recitals. Yeah. It’ll be good to know what to expect. With a quick glance behind to see if anyone had been spying on him even though what he was doing was totally and completely not weird or rude, he tried the door and quickly entered.

Chapter Text

Shinji stood in a dimly lit hallway lined with white-painted brick walls. He could faintly hear the piano’s music drifting lazily down the corridor from the stage. Quietly, he started forward, the music’s volume growing as he moved. He found he was unintentionally picking up his pace as he got closer to the stage entrance. The music was enchanting; an emphatic chord followed by a quick run ascending to higher notes, a soft trill followed by a dramatic pause, low triplets keeping time as a light melody was played on the upper keys.

The corridor eventually turned sharply to the right, and he realized he was now finally behind the stage. To the left were several dressing rooms and a set of restrooms, while two doors on the right led to either side of the back of the stage.

Shinji pressed the handle of the closest door to his right and, as slowly as he could, leaned into it, cracking a narrow opening.

The music flowed into the corridor now, unimpeded by the door. A series of dramatic chords filled the hallway as the melody continued. What piece was this? Shinji enjoyed and appreciated solo piano works, but he couldn’t place this particular piece. Saint-Saëns? Debussy? He tried to memorize the melody, making a mental note to search online for a recording later.

Though he could hear the piano, he still couldn’t see who was playing. The stage was equipped with tall wooden dividers that curved at the top, designed to project the sound toward the audience. These effectively formed a wall that concealed the soloist from the rest of the backstage area.

I just want to see who’s playing, then I’ll leave, Shinji promised himself, I HAVE to see. He carefully removed his cello from his back, set it beside the door, and quietly slipped through.

The backstage area was exceptionally dim, especially since there were no spotlights illuminating the main stage—just the house lights lighting the rest of the theater. Percussion instruments, racks of stands and chairs, and other various pieces of stage equipment lined the walls, along with cables snaking their way from one side of the stage to the other.

Shinji carefully picked his way through the obstacles, just needing to find a gap in the dividers—a glimpse of the soloist. Finally, he found a large enough opening to see the piano, and his breath hitched in his throat.

Just like it had been on Monday, the pianist’s hair was nearly stark white, his skin the palest Shinji had ever seen. His back was to him, but Shinji wouldn't forget someone with such a striking appearance so easily. Shinji watched the young man’s fingers dance over the keys effortlessly. He hadn’t realized during their brief encounter earlier that week, but the man certainly had the hands of a pianist—large, long, and nimble.

He moved emphatically as he played; now theatrically bowing his body toward the piano with a sudden chord. Now playfully bobbing his head during a passage of hushed 16th notes. His feet hitting the peddles at the base of the instrument, skillful hands dancing back and forth along the ivory keys.

Minutes passed. Shinji knew he should leave. He’d gotten his look at the musician, but now he was just staring. Leave, you idiot! If he catches you, you’re not going to be able to explain yourself. You’re SPYING, his mind urged. Yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from those deft hands, that white hair as it bounced along with his movements.

Shinji had heard and seen plenty of pianists play before, there was only so much of an affect skill and technique could have on a piece. Yet he had never been so deeply entranced by a musician before. Why? Why was some pale guy having this effect on him? He couldn’t explain why he was rooted to the spot with eyes glued to this boy, only that he was mesmerized in a way he’d never experienced. He looked, to put it simply, like an angel.

Then, Shinji received his punishment for not leaving when he should have. His phone—something he rarely checked because no one ever contacted him—began to ring.

“Shit shit shit!” He hissed, digging frantically in his pockets. He took a step back, his hands shaking as he managed to yank the phone from his pants pocket to screen the call. Of course, as was typical for him, things went from bad to worse. Shinji caught his heel on one of the timpani legs, and his phone flew from his hand as he instinctively grasped the air for something to steady himself. Surprisingly no such object magically appeared, and with a loud thud, Shinji fell squarely on his butt, phone clattering to the floor a few feet away.

Silence.

The echoes of the piano in the auditorium died out and there was a beat where Shinji didn’t dare even to breathe. Then, his nightmare. The sound of the legs of the piano bench scraping against the stage floor as the boy began to stand.

Shinji froze, rooted to the ground. What should I do? Crap, I probably look like some kind of weirdo or WORSE. Do I run? Shit! How do I explain this? I should run, at least maybe I can avoid my identity being revealed, right? Get up Shinji, GET UP! Shinji’s mind reeled.

He heard footsteps and a small, “Hello?” and suddenly he could move again. Shinji scrambled to his feet, grabbing for his phone, but it was too late. Before he could turn to leave, there he was — the angel with the red eyes, peeking around the side of the dividers. They stared at each other for a moment, Shinji in horror and the pianist in confusion, and then, recognition. The young man cracked a smile and laughed.

“It’s you, the first year!” he said, his voice amused. “You nearly made me jump out of my skin. What was that loud sound?”

“I, um, I fell.” Shinji answered lamely, and then hurriedly added, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t spying or anything! It’s just that, I heard someone playing from the lobby and—and I was curious. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I—I thought if I came from backstage, I could see who was playing and—and…” He trailed off, realizing he wasn’t helping his case. There wasn’t really a delicate way to admit he had, indeed, been spying.

Shinji sighed and looked down at his feet guiltily, “I’m really sorry. I hate when people listen to me practice, and here I am doing it to you.” The young man waved his hands in front of him

“Please there’s no need for all that, I’m sure I would’ve been curious too!”

He looked back towards the piano wistfully, “The auditorium will see more use as we get further into the semester obviously, but oftentimes I can use the piano with little interruption on Sunday evenings. I enjoy playing for an empty hall— much more than a full one” He grinned.

Shinji gave a small chuckle, “I couldn’t agree more. I, uh, have really terrible stage fright, to be honest. I even needed to have a second audition because I couldn’t finish my first one.” He laughed awkwardly, then froze, realizing what he’d just said. “Jeez, I’m sorry! That was inappropriate of me to admit. Most students aren’t offered such opportunities, and here I am bragging about it.”

The other boy frowned, “I’d hardly call that bragging, but that is fortunate you were able to get through your second attempt. Oh!” he clapped a hand to his forehead, “I haven’t even introduced myself yet, my apologies. I’m Kaworu Nagisa, second-year piano major.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Shinji quickly said. “I realized after we met the other day that I didn’t even ask your name. I’m sure you thought that was rude.” He gave a small snicker. “I’m Shinji Ikari, first-year cellist.”

Kaworu’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Ikari? You don’t mean—are you related to the director, then? Is that why you had a meeting with him?”

The smile on Shinji’s lips faltered. He had hoped that Kaworu wouldn’t bring up his connection to the director. The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Shinji felt a knot form in his stomach. The last thing he wanted was to deal with any judgment over his relationship to school faculty right now.

“Um, yeah, he’s my...he’s, my father.” Shinji said quietly. 

“Father, hmm,” Kaworu looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully for a moment before continuing, “That must be tough. I mean, I’m sure the stress placed on you by everyone is tremendous. You’re really brave to attend Kunitachi given your connection to him.”

Shinji blinked in surprise. It was the first time all week that he’d received this kind of reaction when the subject of his relation to the school director came up. He barked out a harsh laugh. “Most people expect me to either have God-like talent or none at all. Brave isn’t an adjective I think I’d use to describe myself. I was even considering giving people a different last name after this week.”

Kaworu met his eyes again with a serious expression. “You’re brave, Shinji Ikari. Don’t discount yourself.” 

Shinji stared at him for a moment, unsure how to respond to that kind of sincerity. Before he could find the words, Kaworu’s expression shifted. He glanced back at the piano, his face unreadable. Then he smiled, soft and inviting. “I was about to finish practicing, but…” He looked back at Shinji, with a playful glint in his eye. “Well... would you like me to play for you?”

Chapter Text

Shinji headed towards the front of the stage and began climbing down toward the auditorium when he heard Kaworu laughing behind him, “Oh no, you’re not sitting in the audience. If I’m going to show off, I want you to see me play up close and personal!”

Shinji faltered for a moment before awkwardly rising and walking over to stand by the piano. Kaworu, still standing in the backstage wing, watched him closely. Shinji found himself tugging at the hem of his shirt, feeling exposed under that unwavering gaze.

Kaworu gave a satisfied nod to himself before striding confidently toward Shinji and the piano. With an enthusiastic smile, he gave a low bow. “Welcome to your private concert, Mr. Shinji Ikari. I’m elated to have the honor of playing for such an impressive guest!” Shinji snorted at that.

“And what, dear listener, shall I play for you this evening?” Kaworu put on a performative expression of deliberation, placing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. He side-eyed Shinji, clearly waiting for a song request.

“Oh! Uh...” Shinji’s mind went completely blank. What solo piano pieces did he know off the top of his head? What if Kaworu didn’t know whatever he suggested? He hesitated before answering, “Moonlight Sonata?”

Kaworu smiled eagerly. “An excellent choice, sir! Please, sit!” He gestured to the piano bench, and Shinji gave him a confused look.

“But...you’re sitting there?”

“There’s room for two,” Kaworu said simply. There was something in his expression that Shinji couldn’t quite pinpoint, but he took a seat at the far edge of the bench anyway. Kaworu sat next to him, adjusted himself, and closed his eyes. A pause followed, and the mood shifted from playful to something else—something serious.

After a moment, Kaworu placed his hands on the keys, and with a sharp inhale, began playing—not the slow first movement of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 14 "Moonlight" , but the vigorous third movement. His left hand kept time with steady eighth notes while his right hand played impossibly fast sixteenth notes, moving toward the higher notes on the right side of the piano. His head jerked emphatically every time he hit the climactic chords, before starting the next motif of sixteenth notes, dancing toward another set of chords.

Kaworu’s expression was serious, focused—so different from the seemingly permanent smile he always wore. The soft, yet piercing gaze he had used on Shinji just moments before was gone. Now his eyes were hard, steeled, as he watched the piano intensely. Is this the same guy from a minute ago? Shinji thought, bewildered. His intensity was, honestly, a little frightening.

Still, Kaworu continued playing, jerking and swaying with the music. Though Shinji was fascinated by Kaworu’s varying expressions and the way his hands expertly worked the instrument, he found himself closing his eyes, simply listening. The music washed over him like waves in the ocean, the melody shifting between a major key—bright and hopeful—and a minor key—dark and brooding. Kaworu’s left hand played the deeper keys, while his right hand danced over the higher ones, each hand swapping between rapid sixteenth notes and slower eighths.

Shinji lost track of time. All that existed in the world was this music. He had no cares, no stress, not even a physical body. He was just a consciousness floating in an empty sea, waves of music crashing over him. But he wasn’t afraid. He was relaxed, moving with the flow of the music, like a mindless jellyfish carried by an ocean current.

And suddenly, there was silence. The sea of calm that Shinji had been drifting in moments ago began to roil angrily as all his familiar anxious thoughts rushed back. He opened his eyes and looked at Kaworu. "That... that was beautiful, Kaworu. I totally lost myself in your music!"

Kaworu met his gaze, his forehead glistening with fresh sweat, and smiled. Was he really working hard enough to break a sweat... for me? Shinji wondered, bewildered.

“I haven’t played that piece in quite a while, but...” Kaworu laughed with a hint of embarrassment. “I’d be lying if I said I chose the third movement for any reason other than to impress you. It’s certainly the more challenging of the two.”

Shinji blushed and quickly looked down at the piano. Who’d want to try and impress me? he wondered, even more bewildered. “Well, um, I was certainly impressed. I’d love to hear you play again sometime,” Shinji said, getting up. Wait... did I just ask him to play for me again? Shinji panicked. Once was more than enough for him, I’m sure. He was probably just being nice by performing for me just now. After all, I was caught spying on him just a bit ago—who’d want to hang out with a stalker?

Kaworu interrupted Shinji’s frenzied thoughts with a clap of his hands. “I’d love to play for you again! Truth be told...” He sighed and stood as well. “I’ve been having a hard time finding the motivation to play at all. My first year, I was ravenous for my piano, I couldn’t seem to practice enough! But the weeks leading up to this semester, and now this first week of classes... I — I don’t know. The piano hasn’t been calling me as it once did.” He stared at the instrument longingly before turning to Shinji.

"You live in the dorms, right? I live off-campus, on the Shinjuku line. Would you... like to walk with me to the station? It's on the way to the dorms." He seemed to hesitate when he asked, as though he expected Shinji to respond with a disgusted "No way" and storm off. Instead, Shinji couldn't stop the probably overly-excited grin that spread across his face. "Absolutely!" he answered emphatically.

---

They exited through the door Shinji had come through backstage, and Kaworu waited as Shinji shouldered his cello before continuing down the hall. They walked in silence for a moment, until Shinji remembered the real reason he was walking with Kaworu: his phone had rung at such an inopportune moment, and he had forgotten to check who it was. He did so now and saw that it had been Kensuke.

Shinji didn’t want to call back—he hated talking on the phone—and he was heading back to the dorms anyway. If it had been an emergency, Kensuke would have probably called again. He pocketed the phone, and just then, Kaworu broke the silence.

"Everything okay? You had quite a concerned look on your face just now."

Shinji hadn’t even realized Kaworu had been watching him.

"It was just one of my dorm mates. I don’t get calls often, actually. That’s what made me trip earlier—I was so surprised, I lost my balance and fell into the stupid timpani!"

Kaworu laughed, and Shinji felt a strange flutter in his stomach.

"I shouldn’t say this, but I’m actually glad you fell," Kaworu said with a smile. "I wouldn’t have had the chance to talk to you otherwise. Seems like our schedules are pretty different since we haven’t seen each other since Monday... well," he added with a sly grin, "unless you’ve been spying on me before tonight too."

Shinji's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he stammered, "I—I wasn't spying! I was just curious... a—and I wanted to check out the backstage area for recitals. There was a perfectly logical explanation for me being back there." He finished with a huff, and Kaworu laughed again.

"Kidding, kidding," Kaworu said with a grin. "I told you, I’d have done the same if the shoe were on the other foot. And speaking of which, if I’m playing for you again sometime, you’ll have to play for me." He gestured to the cello on Shinji's back.

Though Shinji's initial response would have been to refuse—after all, he was just a mediocre cello player, and no self-respecting classical musician would think he had much talent—he found himself agreeing. "Alright, I suppose fair is fair, though I doubt I’ll compare to you." He laughed.

They exited the performance hall into the cool evening air. Shinji shivered slightly; it had been warmer earlier in the day, and he hadn't expected to be out after sunset. His usual short-sleeve button-up wasn't doing a good job of keeping the chill out.

"The days are getting warmer, but the nights still have that bite to them," Kaworu remarked, his own simple button-down likely also not offering much more warmth. "Come on, walking will warm us up."

They walked in relative silence and, while normally Shinji would feel an anxious need to fill the void with words, he didn’t mind this time. Kaworu had a peaceful quiet about him that made Shinji feel at ease. He didn’t feel obligated to speak without reason. They could walk together in comfortable silence and enjoy the sound of wind stirring in the leaves of the trees overhead, the distant rhythmic thunk thunk thunk of a passing train, a squirrel rustling in a nearby bush. It felt so...right.

At the school’s entrance, Kaworu broke their shared silence. “Well, I’ll be headed toward the station now.” He paused, shifting his weight uncomfortably between his feet. “Can I... have your phone for a second?”

Shinji gave him a confused look but took the phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to Kaworu. He tapped on it for a minute or so before handing it back to Shinji with a smile.

“My contact info. I’m not much of a phone call person, but feel free to text me. I’d like to meet up again like this.”

Shinji couldn’t tell in the dim light from the streetlamps, but he thought Kaworu might have been blushing.

Before Shinji could reply, Kaworu gave a quick bow and said, “Goodnight, Shinji Ikari,” before turning toward the station.

“Oh, uh, good night, Kaworu. Get home safe!” Shinji called after him, and Kaworu waved a hand without looking back.

---

Back in his dorm Shinji found Toji and Kensuke lounging in their shared living room, watching some type of mecha anime, Gundam possibly? “I’m home.” Shinji called from the entrance, as he slipped off his shoes.

“Finally! I tried calling you, you know!” Kensuke chided him, “Toji and I had yakiniku tonight to celebrate the end of our first week. Doesn’t keep, so I figured I’d try to get you home faster to get some while it lasted, but it seemed like I slowed you down.”

“Yeah seriously, your loss, man. There’s no party like a yakiniku party, although it would've been better with booze.” Toji grumbled, not looking away from the TV.

“You’ve had beer before?” Kensuke asked incredulously.

“I mean,” Toji reddened slightly, “that’s what I’ve heard at least...that grilled food is always better with beer.”

Kensuke laughed and teased, “You always try to be so cool but you’re just some band geek like the rest of us!”

Kensuke was promptly hit in the face with a throw pillow. “Watch it! I don’t have a backup set of glasses!” He complained, tossing the pillow back at Toji.

After watching this back-and-forth for a moment, Shinji quietly headed to his room to unload his cello. While a part of him wanted to relax with his roommates, he suddenly felt the crushing weight of his various responsibilities press down on him. He hadn’t even realized how light he had felt when he was with Kaworu.

It was as if he had been given a life jacket to keep him afloat in the roiling ocean of his anxiety, and now that life jacket had sprung a hole, dragging him once more into the crushing depths. No matter how desperately he tried to fill his lungs with air, he couldn’t satisfy the overwhelming need for oxygen. His heart rate spiked erratically. He couldn’t get enough air. His palms began to sweat. He couldn't get enough AIR.

He dropped his cello to the floor harder than he intended and stumbled to his bed, collapsing onto the floor and leaning against the frame. He hugged his legs to his chest and lowered his head as he gasped for air. It felt like his first audition all over again, like he was dying. Starving for oxygen, feeling as though he might vomit and shit at the same time. Clammy hands pressed against the sides of his head as he rocked back and forth against the frame.

It’ll pass, you’re not dying, just breathe. It’ll pass. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. You’re not dying. He repeated the words to himself over and over.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of nausea, sweating, and hyperventilating, Shinji began to calm.

He hadn’t experienced a panic attack in his life until his first audition with Kunitachi, which had left him unable to complete the required repertoire. Since then, he’d managed a few months without anything more than his usual, crushing anxieties—those, at least, he could handle.

He had hoped the audition panic attack would be a one-time thing. After it happened, he researched what panic attacks were, what triggered them, how likely he was to experience another, and so on. Up until tonight, he hadn’t had another. He had prayed he would never suffer through one again, but those prayers had clearly gone unanswered.

After a few more minutes of controlled breathing, he rose on shaky legs. The little energy he had left for the evening had been spent. He couldn’t socialize with his roommates; he couldn’t even make it to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He stripped down to his boxers, not bothering to toss his clothes in the laundry bin, and crawled into bed.

Chapter Text

Buzz . A vibration. Buzz . Another vibration. By the third buzz, Shinji groaned as he fished his phone out from under his still half-asleep body. He squinted, briefly blinding himself as he tried to read the screen under the deep dark of his comforter. Blinking the spots from his vision, he first saw the time: 6:32am. Then, his eyes landed on the text messages that had so rudely woken him up.

Asuka: Guten Morgen all. This is Asuka, I’d like to meet up for quartet practice this week.

Asuka: Please send me all your class and practice schedules and I will find a time that works for everyone. I’m going to get some repertoire from Dr. Akagi today to start with. 

Asuka: And don’t keep me waiting on those schedules! Bis bald 🙂

“What is she, on German time? Why is she up so early?” Shinji whined, burying his face into his pillow. He wanted to drift back to sleep, but then he became acutely aware of how disgusting he felt. During his panic attack the night before, he'd broken into a cold sweat, and since he hadn't bothered to clean himself off in his usual nightly bath. The stickiness was still there as he reluctantly peeled his thighs apart and sat up in bed.

His room was becoming more and more messy, he realized, as he examined his surroundings with fresh eyes. Before the semester began, Shinji had always been a very tidy person. Not that he had very many items to clutter up his life, but his clothes, papers, and the occasional vending machine wrappers and containers he indulged in, were always put away in their proper places. Now, though, clothes were scattered across the floor, papers were haphazardly strewn across the desk, and perhaps most shamefully, were the empty food containers that he hadn’t even gotten into a trashcan.

He sighed, resolving to take a bath and clean his damn room this morning. Maybe he’d make breakfast for Kensuke and Toji, since they’d been putting up with his extra anti-social behavior all last week. He shuffled down the hall in his underwear, not bothering to dress as no one else would be up at this hour and began filling the tub with fresh bathwater.

As he soaked the previous day's filth away, he found his mind wandering back to Kaworu. How had he managed to keep Shinji’s anxieties at bay like that? There was something about him, something Shinji couldn’t quite put his finger on... He stared up at the bathroom ceiling. At first I just thought he was a really interesting-looking person. I hadn’t been actively thinking about it but, I think I was hoping to run into him again at some point. Now that he had, though...it was more than just his appearance that intrigued him. He’d enjoyed talking to Kaworu. And the strangest part? It almost felt like Kaworu enjoyed talking to him, too.

He sank deeper into the warm waters, submerging himself until only his head remained dry. Should I text him today? Would it come off as desperate? The only real experience I have with making friends is with Kensuke and Toji, and they didn’t even CHOOSE me. I think we’re friends now though, but I was just a random roommate assignment...

Insecurities began to cloud his thoughts, They’re not your friends, you’re just some sad, broken kid with daddy issues. They probably want you to move out so they can replace you with someone that’s actually fun to be around. He squeezed his eyes shut, pleading for his brain to stop spiraling. He could almost feel cold fingers of anxiety tighten around his throat. You’re nothing. You’re here because you have nowhere else to go, and no matter how hard you try, no one will care. You’re a burden on everyone. Disgusting. Disgusting. DISGUSTING!

Shinji suddenly dipped his head under the bathwater, opened his mouth, and screamed until his lungs were empty of air. He opened his eyes and waited there for a moment, watching as the surface ripples from his air bubbles stilled, until his lungs begged him to inhale. Finally he shot up, gasping in a deep breath, silently praying his roommates hadn’t heard the drowned cry.

I mustn't run away, he told himself, rising from the bathwater and grabbing a towel. Kaworu even said I was brave. If he thinks that, maybe I can too. With a flicker of hope, he stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a bit stronger than before.

---

As Shinji and his roommates were finishing lunch in the all-too-noisy cafeteria that afternoon, a familiar face approached—at least, familiar to Shinji. She wore a simple outfit of jeans and a white shirt under a red cardigan. Her plain brown hair, which Shinji had only seen in pigtails, was now pulled back into a French braid.

“Oh, hey, Hikari!” he greeted his fellow cellist with a wave.

Before she was within earshot, Toji nudged Shinji. “Look at you, talking to a girl! Good job, man!” he said, followed by a grin from him and Kensuke that carried an unmistakable, teasing meaning. Shinji flushed, quickly turning his attention back to his classmate.

“Afternoon Shinji! I know you’re probably still eating but did you see that the conductor emailed us our seating arrangements for Philharmonic rehearsals this morning?” She asked brightly.

Before Shinji could respond Toji was already asking, “Oh no way! You’re in Philharmonic too? Kensuke and I are in the brass section—trumpet and trombone.”

Hikari stared at them with an uninterested expression. “Okay...” she responded, seemingly unsure of what else to say.

“I’m Toji. So, what do you play? Are you a flutist? You look like you’d be a flutist.” Toji said with a grin, completely unaware of her growing indifference.

Hikari stared at him, incredulity written all over her face. She blinked once, then slowly pointed to the unmistakable cello strapped to her back, the look in her eyes clearly saying, Are you serious?

Kensuke and Shinji exchanged a look as Toji’s grin fell in embarrassment and then burst out laughing.

“Well done, Sherlock!” Kensuke laughed, clapping Toji on the back. Toji reeled on his friend, and as they began bickering, Shinji turned back to HIkari.

“Sorry, don’t mind them. They’re my roommates, and good guys.” Shinji rubbed the back of his neck and smiled ruefully, “And, I know I should be more diligent about it, but to be honest I haven’t checked my email at all today...”

At that Hikari rolled her eyes, “Come on Shinji, that’s like day one of college, you should be living in your inbox!” she chided, and then her expression softened, “Well anyway, I’m happy to announce we’ll be standmates this semester. And not only that...” she gave him a wide smile and took his hands in hers, “You’re first chair!”

Shinji blinked in confusion. First chair? But that was reserved for the best cellist in the section—certainly not him. I mean, Hikari was a senior, and yet she had been relegated to second chair under him. He swallowed thickly and forced a smile.

“Uh, wow, are you sure you read the seating chart right? That’s certainly...unexpected...” He managed to squeak out.

"Yes, Shinji!" she said, practically bouncing on her toes with excitement. "I’m so happy for you! You seemed so scared and timid in our ensemble classes last week, but you're really talented." She hesitated for a moment, her smile faltering slightly. "I admit, I was a little disappointed at not being picked as first... but for a freshman to be at the top of the section, you should be proud of yourself. I know you'll do an excellent job leading."

Leading . Shinji paled at the thought. Leading the entire cello section—he’d be the one they’d look to for guidance. Queuing when to begin playing, deciding the way everyone should play passages as a group, making sure the section didn’t lose their place in a piece, leading practice sessions. All these duties would fall to him, on top of everyone’s expectations of him to be the most talented musician of the group.

He felt his throat tighten. This was the point, right? This was why he was here. This was what his father had wanted.  But Shinji didn’t want this.  First chair should be the goal, it should be an honor. However, it felt like a curse. He loved music, but right now, the idea of smashing his cello on the floor and burning every piece of music he’d ever seen seemed like a better alternative.

He realized Hikari was leaning down and peering at his face concernedly, “Shinji, are you okay? You seem a bit pale.”

“Oh, um, yeah I’m fine!” Shinji removed his sweating palms from her grip and waved them in front of his face, “Just thinking about all my new responsibilities. It’s a lot, but I can handle it. Thanks for letting me know, I’m excited to work together this semester!” He smiled, hoping it looked believable.

“Anyway,” he added, “We were about finished here, want to walk to rehearsal with us?”

She nodded and waited as the three men tossed their various food wrappers and gathered their belongings, then happily followed them towards Philharmonic rehearsal.

---

Shinji stood in the doorway of the philharmonic rehearsal room for a moment, staring wide eyed at the portion of chairs and music stands awaiting cellists. His breath came in shallow gasps. I can do this, I mustn't run away. The rational portion of his mind was repeating, but his body betrayed the calm he tried to force upon himself.

His heart felt like it was going pound a hole through his sternum, he was sweating entirely too much, and his stomach churned in a way that made him want to rush to the nearest restroom. I...I can do this. Don’t run. Don’t run. Please, don’t run. His resolve to enter the room was waning. He took a hesitant step back but suddenly felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, Hikari. 

She smiled and gently said, “Shinji, I’m sure you’re nervous, but you’re going to do great! You’ve been playing in orchestras for a long time surely, you know how they operate. First chair is just another cog in the machine, okay?”

She lightly squeezed his shoulder as she entered the room. Shinji took a deep breath, and followed.

Despite his trepidation, Shinji’s first rehearsal as section lead went just fine. Though he always had severe performance anxiety as a soloist, playing in a group had always been manageable, even enjoyable. While he obviously would have preferred to sit somewhere in the middle of his fellow cellists, he was able to function as normal beside the extra anxiety threatening to spill forth in the back of his mind.

Now that he was sitting in the front of his section, he was facing the first chair violinist on the opposite side of their large semicircle. Arguably the most important member of the orchestra besides the conductor, they were also referred to as the Concert Master. And it was none other than Asuka that met his gaze with a steely look of her own.

She mouthed something before getting up to lead the orchestra in tuning as they began rehearsing. Shinji wasn’t sure but he was pretty sure it had been “Good job, stupid”.

Chapter Text

Shinji peaked into the window of the door to the practice room, hoping no one would be happening to look in that direction at that moment. Luckily the three students that sat facing each other, with music stands between them, were busy speaking quietly as they waited to start today's practice session.

There was Asuka of course; Shinji couldn’t miss her if he tried, with her long red hair always pulled into the same half-up half-down style and western facial features. The other two however; just this afternoon he’d seen them in their shared Ensemble class, but still hadn’t yet spoken to them.

The second violinist was a woman with long brown hair, red glasses, and quite a large chest; if Shinji was being honest with himself about what stood out about her. The violist had a smaller frame, and short blue-dyed hair, which framed her rather serious face. Shinji realized with a start that the quartet was comprised of all women except for him. He’d have to keep that fact from Kensuke and Toji lest they follow him to every subsequent rehearsal.

With a breath to steel his nerves, he opened the door to the practice room. “Sorry I’m-” he began, but was immediately cut off by Asuka.

“ Verdammt Shinji, my message read 6:30pm, not 6:40! It’s not like you have a social life or anything, what took you?” she scolded. Before he could answer she continued again, “Nevermind, don’t just stand there, sit down idiot! This is Mari Makinami and Rei Ayanami.” She gestured to the second violinist and violist in turn.

“Pleasure, Shinji! Names Mari, like Asuka said. I’m a second year.” Mari said, putting her free hand out towards Shinji. As he took it she shook his hand vigorously, smiling wide.

“Yes, hello Shinji. I’m in my second year as well.” Rei said in a small voice. She didn’t offer for him to shake her hand.

“Ja ja, introductions are out of the way. Now, here,” Asuka pressed a black folder into his hands as he sat in the chair they’d provided for him, “Music for the foreseeable future. Dr. Akagi seems to have a lot of faith in us; she gave me plenty of repertoire.”

As Shinji unpacked his cello Asuka tapped her foot impatiently. He rosined up his bow and settled himself into his seat as quickly as he could.

“Finally! Now that our cellist is here,” she shot Shinji an annoyed look, “We can begin. I was thinking we can try reading Schubert’s Death and the Maiden to start.” 

The other three musicians nodded. “I love that quartet! Nice and vigorous, gets your blood pumping!” Mari added with a chuckle as they rifled through their music for the corresponding papers. 

“Yes, I enjoy the viola part as well.” Rei agreed softly. 

With music ready on the stands before them all instrumentalists put bows to strings and looked to Asuka. She smiled confidently and with a sharp inhale and slight raise of her violin, they began to play.

Shinji hadn’t played this quartet before, or many quartets in general for that matter. He had rarely participated in ensembles outside of a large orchestra, but Mari was correct in that it was quite vigorous. Many of the melodies one instrument had would be accompanied by quick and playful sixteenth notes underneath. Shinji was unused to the push and pull each musician had on the overall piece in a small group like this.

He learned he had the freedom to put emphasis on whatever he felt would make the piece sound better. Accenting the beginning of a long note and then removing pressure from the bow to soften the volume. Choosing to play a phrase louder when he thought it needed extra attention. Reading unspoken cues from whatever instrument was sharing his melody or harmony, to play out or back off. It was...fun, exhilarating even. He found himself smiling as his left hand fingers ran up and down the neck of his cello, bobbing his head playfully with music.

“Okay!” Asuka spoke out, stopping them mid-piece, after a few minutes, “I think we sound pretty good. Rei, really play out when you have the melody, you have a lovely sound. Mari, you’re rushing the sixteenth notes a bit in a few places here,” she pointed to a few bars on Mari’s sheet music, “and Shinji?”

He braced himself for the inevitable criticism: he’d been out of tune, playing too loudly and obscuring the rest of the group, or lagging and making them overcompensate for his errors. But Asuka said none of that. Instead she smiled, genuinely, for the first time since Shinji had met her, “You sounded good. I’m impressed, Wunderkind . Just don’t mess it up and I think we have something really solid here.”

“Now,” she rifled back through her music a bit, “Let's take it from page 4, measure 135.”

---

A little after 11 p.m., Shinji found himself shuffling through the front door. Normally, he'd call out his usual “I’m home!” but it was too late for that—his roommates had likely already turned in for the night. After dropping his cello and backpack in his room, he reentered the kitchen.

Sure enough, both Kensuke and Toji had already retreated to their rooms. Shinji couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at the quiet. The quartet session had drained his social energy. Asuka's commanding, yet exhausting, leadership and Mari's endlessly bubbly personality had left him nearly out of breath.

The only member who, in contrast to the violinists, had barely spoken was Rei. She was so serious—not brooding, but almost like an emotionless doll. Yet, her music was anything but emotionless. Shinji found her playing incredibly expressive and moving. Of the group, he easily found her the most intriguing.

As he reheated some leftover curry and rice, it suddenly struck him with a start: I haven’t texted Kaworu yet!

He’d certainly intended to. He wanted to see the pianist again—if only for the calming effect his presence seemed to have on Shinji's constantly racing mind. Sitting at the low living room table with his food, he pulled out his phone. Would it be inappropriate to text him now? he wondered. He had meant to earlier, but the past two days had been so busy. It seemed every time he remembered, it was an inopportune moment.

Besides, he always needed a few minutes to steady his nerves whenever he was the first to reach out to anyone—whether it was phone calls or texts. It was an unusual occurrence for him, but things like contacting doctors' offices, school administration, even texting Asuka his class schedule yesterday made his chest tighten and his skin prickle.

This, though—being the first to reach out to someone for no particular reason, just because he wanted to—was completely foreign to Shinji.

He pulled out his phone, absently spooning bites of curry and rice into his mouth. How do people even start these kinds of conversations? What was he supposed to say? He suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment when he realized he only had four contacts in his phone—Ms. Misato, Asuka, Kensuke, and Toji—and Kaworu had probably noticed that when he added his number himself. Great start to this friendship, Shinji thought with a frustrated sigh.

He opened a blank text chat with Kaworu. He had to be the first to reach out—Kaworu didn’t have his contact info. Shinji wished he had thought to exchange numbers that night under the street lamps. But now, here he was, stuck with yet another responsibility. He was getting tired of that.

His inexperienced thumbs slowly began typing:

Shinji : Hey, good evening. I know it might be a bit late, but this is Shinji. How has your week been so far?

The quiet living room was filled with the sound of quick taps as Shinji deleted the message.

Shinji : Hi Kaworu! This is Shinji, from the other night. Sorry this took a few days, it’s been a busy week so far, haha.

Delete, delete, delete.

Shinji : Hi there, Kaworu. This is Shinji. Apologies, I meant to text you sooner. Hope your week has been going well.

Shinji’s thumb hovered over the backspace button again. He hesitated, then, before he could second-guess himself, pressed the send button and immediately turned his phone face down on the table. Shit, shit, shit! That was stressful. Did I sound too formal? What if he doesn’t even remember me? His mind began to spin.

He took a shaky breath and picked up his spoon to resume eating, but before he could take a bite, his phone buzzed. He jumped, and the spoon, laden with curry, clattered to the floor. “Damn it…” he sighed, quickly rinsing the spoon and cleaning up the spilled food. Returning to his seat with a fresh utensil, he timidly picked up his phone.

One new message: Kaworu Nagisa the front screen read. Well, that was quick, he thought and, with shaky hands, unlocked the phone.

Kaworu: Good evening Shinji! I’m sure you’ve been busy so no need for apologies 🙂 my week has been going okay so far, we’ve been lucky with this dry weather right? And what about you? A friend that’s in philharmonic told me you guys got seating assignments, what’s yours?

Shinji blinked at all of Kaworu’s questions. Texting is so challenging, he thought. You can ask so many things with so few words. Why did Kaworu want to know all of this? Did he really care about how Shinji’s week was going, or was it just polite small talk? Shinji began to slowly type a response.

Shinji: Yes, the weather has been surprisingly dry for spring, it’s been lovely.

Shinji: My week has been going okay, I had my first quartet rehearsal today.

Shinji: I’m first chair.

As soon as the last message was sent he immediately put his phone back, face down, on the table. Was that response okay? Should it have been one message? I wasn’t sure how to differentiate the answers though… will he be annoyed at all the notifications?

Shinji took another couple bites before his phone buzzed again, he was ready for it this time at least.

Kaworu: Wow, first chair! And you’re a freshman right?? That’s amazing, well done! I knew you were talented but that’s really something. You’ll have to tell me more about your quartet the next time we meet.

A bubble that Shinji was pretty sure indicated Kaworu was typing appeared for a moment, disappeared, and then reappeared again. How long was this message? Finally his phone buzzed again.

Kaworu: Would you like to get lunch together tomorrow?

Shinji raised an eyebrow. Is Kaworu a slow texter or something? How did it take him two minutes to ask a single question? Regardless, his thumbs hovered nervously over the keyboard again. He inhaled a shaky breath.

Shinji: Sure,  I have an hour between 12 and 1 tomorrow.

Shinji couldn’t even anxiously slam his phone back on the table before the bubble indicating Kaworu was replying popped up.

Kaworu: Sweet! I’ll meet you in front of the cafeteria at 12 tomorrow. See you then!

“Ughhhh…” Shinji sighed, a mixture of relief and regret that the stressful interaction was over now flooded into him. He finished his curry in thoughtful silence, only to find himself picking up his phone and rereading the conversation every few minutes, wondering if he’d missed some hidden meaning or message somewhere.

As he rose to take his dish to the sink, familiar, cold tendrils of doubt slithered through his mind. He wants something. Why else would he be interested in meeting with you? The voice of his own insecurity whispered, Like it or not, you’re the son of the Director. It makes sense people would want to brown-nose you. You have something they want. They don’t actually care about you.

Shinji shook his head, trying to rid himself of the icy grip that felt as though it were invading his skull, squeezing his neck, crushing his lungs. He refused to let his self-doubt manipulate him. The memory of last week’s panic attack twisted in his stomach. He refused to go down that road again.

Calm yourself, he thought, Close your eyes and breathe in. Hold. Breathe out, slowly. Again. In. Hold. Out, slow.

After a few steady breaths, he opened his eyes. He placed his dish on the drying rack and retired to his room. Despite the intense wave of anxiety that had overtaken him moments before, he felt a flicker of excitement—giddy, even. A friend, maybe. An honest-to-God friend for the first time in his life. Someone who chose him. He smiled to himself, eager for the next day to arrive.

Chapter Text

Shinji felt lighter than he had in the past couple of weeks that morning as he dressed for the day ahead. The prospect of meeting with Kaworu again both elated, and terrified him, honestly. Still, he tried to push aside the negative thoughts. He just needed to make it through his morning Theory and Art History classes, and then Kaworu would be waiting for him at lunch.

What if he doesn’t show? The little all-too-familiar anxious thoughts clawed at the back of his mind, What if you’re so insignificant that he already forgot? What if he stands you up? It’s certainly not like you’re enjoyable company.

Shinji shook his head, shouldering his cello and backpack—meeting with Kaworu for lunch meant he wouldn’t have time to go home and grab his cello before rehearsal—and headed out to the main living area to wait for his roommates to exit their rooms as well. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes they all walked to campus together.

Unfortunately, another moment of quiet contemplation meant more negative thoughts. How long do you think it’ll take before he asks you for something? Maybe to put in a good word with the director. How long until he gets what he wants and can rid himself of you, I wonder?

Shinji dug his nails into his palm to distract his mind. He reminded himself that Kaworu was the one who had given him his contact information, the one who seemed so excited to play piano for him again. Kaworu had seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding just as Kensuke and Toji emerged from their rooms, backpacks in hand.

“Thanks for waiting, let’s go!” Kensuke said with his easy smile.

They exited the dorm, with Shinji locking the door behind them, silently trying to lock away his insecurities for the day as well.

---

The sky threatened rain as Shinji walked from Art History to the cafeteria. It wasn’t a long walk, but his watch already read 11:56am, and he wanted to be the first to arrive. He needed a few moments to collect himself before Kaworu showed up.

As he rounded the corner and caught sight of the cafeteria doors, he realized luck wasn’t on his side today. Kaworu was already there, waiting for him.

He leaned against a wall adjacent to the entrance, one foot propped up behind him. He seemed to gravitate towards simple, but stylish outfits. Although maybe they just looked stylish because he was tall, lithe, and, well, handsome. Today he wore slim black jeans, a short sleeved white button up, and a black cardigan. He was looking at something on his phone, white locks of unruly hair slightly obscuring his eyes.

Shinji realized this was the first time he had a chance to really look at Kaworu without the pressure of conversation—or, he grimaced at the thought, spying. Kaworu certainly stuck out. Among the handful of students entering and exiting the cafeteria, most with dark hair and skin a few shades darker than his own, Kaworu was almost blinding. His pale complexion and silver hair made him seem otherworldly, as if he didn’t quite belong in the sea of ordinary faces.

Shinji realized he’d been staring for too long and, determined not to be caught spying again, he approached the pianist.

"Good afternoon! Well, almost afternoon," Shinji said with a small smile, glancing at his watch.

Kaworu looked up from his phone, and an excited smile spread across his face as he tucked the device into his pocket.

"Shinji! I’m so glad you reached out," he said, beaming.

"Yeah, I’m sorry again for the wait. I don’t know how everyone manages this whole social life thing and keeping up with school," Shinji muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

 “Please, I completely understand! I was a freshman just last year; it took me MONTHS to get a routine down.” Months, Shinji paled at the idea that he’d still be struggling like this for that long.

“So,” Kaworu continued, “Let’s head inside, hmm? I, uh, was a bit too excited to eat breakfast so I’m pretty hungry.” He chuckled, color rising to his cheeks.

He’s so open, Shinji thought as he followed Kaworu through the double doors. I don’t think I could’ve ever admitted I was excited to see someone like that, but hearing it out loud…he found himself blushing deeply. It feels really nice.

They sat at a table in the back of the cafeteria, adjacent to large floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the campus. It was too loud for Shinji—as per usual—but he did his best to focus his attention on his lunch partner. Kaworu, despite his slim frame, seemed to have quite the appetite. He’d filled his lunch tray with rice, miso soup, curry, steamed vegetables, kimchi, salmon, even a roll of tamogoyaki. Shinji, conversely, had only grabbed a few onigiri and a small fruit sandwich.

They began eating in a slightly uncomfortable silence. Shinji wanted to start a conversation but didn’t quite know how to begin. After a moment of hesitation, he asked between bites, “So… are you planning on working as a full-time musician when you graduate?”

Immediately, he chastised himself. What a dumb question. Of course he wants to be a professional musician! You don’t go to a music conservatory if you don’t plan on doing this full-time, idiot. He took a deep breath and tried to shrug off the thought. It’s fine, I’m just trying to make conversation, he reminded himself.

In any case, Kaworu didn’t seem outwardly annoyed by the seemingly obvious question, replying, “I mean, that’s the goal. It’s a bit harder for pianists, to find steady work like being employed with an orchestra, since we’re typically solo instruments. But that’s part of the draw of attending a private college, plenty of networking opportunities. Both with faculty and other students.” He smiled and sipped some miso soup.

Despite his clearly voracious appetite, he was still managing to eat gracefully. Yet another way he seemed to be the perfect person.

“And you? Planning to be a professional?” he asked.

“Hmm,” being honest with himself, Shinji hadn’t thought much about what life would look like after college. His father just wanted him to be the best graduate from Kunitachi, but after? Did his father care what he did then? Shinji didn’t think he would even make it through the semester, let alone to graduation. He swallowed. “I really don’t know. I suppose that’s the goal coming to a school like this, as you said…But I can’t really envision much of a future for myself at all.”

That was too honest. You should’ve just said yes. Why did you say that? You’re ruining this. He’s going to think you’re depressing, his mind spiraled.

Kaworu had a concerned look on his face, “Are you here because of your father?”

Shinji bristled a little at that. Kaworu knew he was, why was he bringing this up? “Well, I mean, he got me a second audition. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that.”

Kaworu shook his head, “That’s not what I meant. Did you even want to attend Kunitachi? Or was it at your father’s insistence?”

Shinji was taken aback by Kaworu’s insight. He opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words. How did he know?

If Shinji told him the truth—that he was here only at his father’s request—he’d look like a spoiled brat who had stolen some passionate young musician’s place at the most prestigious music university in Japan. But then, I don’t want to lie to him. Judging by how easily Kaworu seemed to read him, he’d probably see through it anyway.

Shinji faltered, unsure of how to answer, the weight of his thoughts pressing on him.

 “Uh…do you mind if we talk about something else?” Shinji scrambled to think of another topic, “Who’s your favorite composer?” he finally managed to ask.

Kaworu pursed his lips for a moment, then decided to drop the subject, much to Shinji's relief. Instead, he responded with a playful grin, “That’s the question, isn’t it? The impossible choice for every musician. I’d be a poor pianist if I didn’t mention the big names—Chopin, Liszt, Rachmaninoff, Schumann...ugh, too many to count!” He giggled, then leaned forward slightly. “Your turn.”

Shinji took a bite of an onigiri, giving himself a moment to think. He was relieved to have found a conversation topic that felt a bit safer. Eventually, he responded, "I think I’m partial to Beethoven, Dvorak, Mahler... maybe? Yeah, too many good ones… Oh! Tchaikovsky, of course." He smiled, feeling a little more at ease.

 “It seems that we both gravitate towards the romantics.” Kaworu said with a warm smile. Shinji’s stomach did the same flip it had the other night when Kaworu laughed as they walked together, what was with that?

He tried to ignore the feeling, replying, “Well the romantics are the best composers, obviously.” They both laughed in agreement at that and continued to eat.

The conversation flowed more easily after the initial awkwardness. Shinji learned that Kaworu was an only child, raised by a single mother—his father had passed when he was younger. Kaworu had started playing the piano later than most would-be professionals. While many pianists began their training as toddlers, Kaworu hadn’t picked up the instrument until he was 10. Shinji was seriously impressed by that.

In general, Kaworu seemed almost unreal to Shinji—handsome, with striking, unique features; a highly skilled pianist; kind, warm, and graceful. Everything about him felt so effortless. Comparatively, Shinji couldn’t help but feel like an ogre. His features were plain, his anxiety and melancholy always just beneath the surface. Altogether, he was a massive wimp. It felt like there was no contest between them.

Shinji took a deep breath and focused as hard as he could on Kaworu, trying to drown out his insecurities. To his surprise, it actually worked. If he concentrated on his lunch partner—studying his face, maintaining eye contact—he could distract himself from the spiraling thoughts in his head. It was a technique Shinji had tried with others before, but it had never worked quite like this. No matter how hard he tried, the little voices always found a way to break through. What power does he have over me to actually quiet my mind?

Though Shinji wanted to ask Kaworu a thousand questions, he frequently found himself on the receiving end of the conversation. Kaworu seemed fascinated by him, asking about his roommates, his first quartet practice, and of course, his musical interests. He was pleasantly surprised at how effortlessly the conversation seemed to flow.

 “So, Shinji, where were you before university? Did you also attend Kunitachi high school? I believe they have a music course to prep prospective students for the conservatory, yes?”

Shinji was in the process of raising his fruit sandwich to his mouth but faltered at the question, lowering it as he looked down at his tray. Another subject I don’t want to talk about. He bit his lip, the usual anxious knot forming in his stomach. I… I want to tell him though. I want to be open with him. That’s what friends do, they’re honest with each other.

After a moment, Shinji met Kaworu’s soft, questioning gaze. The warmth in his eyes made Shinji want to tell Kaworu everything and anything, to bare his soul in a way he never had with anyone else. But the hesitation lingered. How much do I tell him? He thought. I can’t just spill my guts to anyone who gives me the time of day... but he’s so kind, and he really does seem interested...

Shinji took a deep breath. "No, I-I didn’t actually live in Tokyo until I started here. I grew up mainly in Nagoya. You see, um... like how your father passed when you were younger, for me it was my mother." His voice wavered slightly, but he pushed through. "I don’t really remember her much. I was around three when she died, I think. We lived in Tokyo, my mother, father, and I, but… when she passed, my father sent me to Nagoya for school. I-I don’t think he wanted much to do with me after she died. Maybe I reminded him of her too much. I don’t know..."

He trailed off, continuing to stare at his lunch tray, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sandwich. After a brief pause, he continued. "She was actually a world-class cellist, at least from what I’ve read about her. She was also a graduate of Kunitachi, and she played all over the world. After she died and Father sent me away, he gifted me my first cello. It was… devastating." Shinji’s eyes briefly glazed over at the memory; his heart lurched in his chest. "I was only four, and my father had sent me the same instrument my recently deceased mother had played. He couldn’t even bother to visit."

The words hung in the air, heavy with emotion. Shinji didn't dare look up, afraid that if he did, he might see something he wasn’t ready to face.

He clenched his fists under the table, the rising anger mixing with his feelings of helplessness. But once he started, it felt as though he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out, like vomit. “I—I hated him after that. I didn’t touch the cello for a whole year. I was four years old, and I hated my father. Kids are supposed to love their parents!” His voice trembled, raw with the intensity anger. He sighed and relaxed his hands, the flash of rage dissipating as quickly as it had arrived.

“Eventually, I thought maybe… maybe if I learned to play as well as my mother, my father would accept me. That he’d want me in his life…” Shinji swallowed, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. “And I guess when he heard from my guardian that I had taken up the instrument, that’s when he seemed to show some interest in me.” He took a shaky breath, his eyes fixed on the table. “So, I kept playing, and when it was time to consider college, Father told me to audition for Kunitachi. I—I’m embarrassed to admit that I was ecstatic about that. I should hate him. I should’ve never wanted to see him again... but when he called, I answered like a dog waiting for its owner to take it on a walk.”

Shinji rubbed the back of his neck, laughing, “Pretty pathetic right?”, but when he met Kaworu’s gaze the smile died on his lips.

Kaworu’s eyes were glassy, his usually warm, smiling face twisted in one of anguish. “Shinji, I-I’m so, so sorry that happened to you. That’s...” His expression hardened, turning icy, “It’s unforgivable.”

Shinji quickly waved his hands in front of his face, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Please, it’s not that bad! I mean, where else was I going to go? I had no other ideas about what to do with my life. If nothing else, my father gave me a goal to aim towards.” He smiled awkwardly, trying to brush it off. “Besides, I should be grateful. I mean, you’ve worked so incredibly hard to attend this school! The least I can do is appreciate my time here.”

Kaworu just looked down at his tray with a sigh, his expression shifting to something quieter and more melancholic. “It’s just...” he began but then decided against continuing. Instead, he looked up at Shinji, forcing his usual gentle smile back onto his face. “Sorry about that. We should head out, it’s almost 1.”

He rose from the table to return his empty tray but paused, turning back to Shinji before walking away. “Thank you... for telling me about your father, by the way. I’m sure that mustn’t have been easy to talk about, but I appreciate you feeling that you could tell me.”

Kaworu smiled again, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes, the softness in his expression now tinted with something Shinji couldn’t quite place.

Shinji looked away, rising with his own tray. Seeing Kaworu upset for him—he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He had far too genial of a face to be looking at Shinji with such a somber expression. His cold inner voice, that had remained quiet most of the meal, returned. Well done. You’ve ruined his lunch, and a potential friendship with your daddy issues, idiot! He didn’t ask for your life story and now look. You’ve upset him. Pathetic.

They left the cafeteria in silence, both seemingly preoccupied with their own thoughts.

“Shinji?” he suddenly heard Kaworu ask.

“Oh-What? Sorry, I-I was zoned out.” More like thinking about how much of a loser I am, he thought bitterly.

“I asked ‘what’s your next class?’ I’m headed to a private lesson.”

“Oh! Philharmonic, the main rehearsal room.”

“Great, that’s on the way to my instructor’s office. Walk with me?” Kaworu gave his warm smile but there was still a touch of insincerity to it, clearly he was still bothered by Shinji’s earlier words.

“…Sure.” Shinji responded.

The pavement was moist as they walked, and the air had that fresh post-rain smell to it. The clouds were still low and dark overhead, but it seemed they had avoided a shower while at lunch. Shinji wanted to say something, wanted to tell Kaworu not to be upset for him—that he didn’t need to waste such feelings on someone like him—but he couldn’t seem to find the words.

Or wait. Was Kaworu actually angry… with Shinji? He talked about how he hated his Father, the director of an exclusive school he was only attending because he had family in the faculty department. Did Kaworu despise him for that? He felt his stomach drop and palms begin to sweat. Shit, I pissed him off. He’s not going to want to see me after this. Shit. I need to try and apologize.

He decided he needed to resume a conversation to ease into the apology.

“So…” he tried, “What are you going to be working on in your lesson?” No reply. His heart rate spiked. He hates me. He HATES me.

Trying to maintain a calm façade to hide the swirling fear that was eating him from the inside out he peered over at his walking mate. “Kaworu?”

“Hmm?!” Kaworu suddenly answered, it seemed he had been deep in thought. “Oh, sorry about that. I believe we’ll be working on my repertoire for recitals. They’re coming up in a little less than 2 weeks, right? I’ll be playing,” he swallowed thickly, “Rachmaninoff.” He finished with a laugh.

Rachmaninoff’s music was notoriously challenging for pianists, requiring both incredible technical skill and emotional depth. The composer’s hands had reportedly been massive, so his music often reflected an intensity and complexity that only someone with such a rare physical gift could manage. Shinji could only imagine how daunting it must feel to tackle such music.

“When will your recital time be? I gotta see you perform!” Shinji tried to sound excited, to keep Kaworu from seeing the terror in his eyes.

“I believe mine is on that Thursday…recitals start at 2pm and…I’m actually the last performer, unfortunately. It’s always the most stressful going either first or last.” He sighed exasperatedly.

The conversation lulled, and Kaworu seemed to drift back into his thoughts, his gaze distant. Shinji silently cursed at himself for not knowing how to approach an apology, for the uncomfortable silence that hung between them. Damn it! I shouldn’t have just dumped everything on him earlier like that, I should’ve just left my father out of the conversation…  He despaired, feeling the weight of the words, he’d shared at lunch like an elephant sitting on his chest.

A few silent, contemplative minutes later, they arrived at Building One, where the rehearsal and faculty offices were located. They stopped at the main doors and turned to each other.

“Well, it seems like our lunch hour has come to an end,” Kaworu said with a sad smile, the look in his eyes made Shinji's chest tighten. “Thank you again, for meeting with me.” He gave a slight bow, his posture graceful, but there was an unspoken weight to the moment. Why does this feel like we’re never going to see each other again? Shinji couldn’t shake the feeling as he watched Kaworu to grasp the door handle.

“Kaworu, wait, I—” Shinji exclaimed, his voice faltering as he reached for the right words. He needed to apologize for ruining the mood, for upsetting Kaworu, but finding the words felt like he was trying to grasp at smoke. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

“I just... I wanted to apologize for talking about my father like that. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Shinji managed, his voice trembling slightly. Is this too much? He hesitated, unsure of what to say next. “I do… really appreciate being a student here, but I’m sure you probably hated that I complained about the school’s director, considering the favoritism I’ve been shown.” Suddenly the words tumbled out in a rush, as if by saying them all at once, he could somehow make everything right.

“I promise you; I’m really working hard to not just coast by on my father’s name!” Shinji’s hands clenched at his sides.  I’m trying! I swear I am.

“So, please… don’t hate me,” he added, lowering his head in a remorseful bow. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited, hoping Kaworu would understand.

Kaworu blinked and there was a beat of silence as both men stared at each other, clearly at a loss for words. Finally, Kaworu found his voice.

“Shinji, I’m not angry about the nepotism between you and your father. I-I was angry about how he…he abandoned you like that. To do that to anyone, let alone…” he broke off, taking a shuddering breath, “Let alone his young child, it’s…it’s despicable. I-I didn’t want to continue speaking so ill of your father so I dropped it but, trust me when I say, I could never be angry with you over this.” He smiled, and it was the first one that seemed genuine since before the subject of Shinji’s father had been broached.

“Now, we both really have to go,” he continued, checking the time on his phone, “But I’ll text you! I have your number now after all.” He winked, and again Shinji’s stomach flipped. He ignored the feeling with a flash of annoyance as they entered the building and, with a wave, walked their separate ways.

Chapter Text

A few days later Shinji sat at the low table in the common area with his roommates. Since his meeting with Kaworu, he’d somehow managed to find the energy to interact willingly with Kensuke and Toji for the first time since the semester started. For the past two days Shinji had been making an effort to join them for their nightly shared dinners—it had been really nice.

Of course, his change in attitude hadn’t gone unnoticed by his roommates. The first night he joined them, they gawked in over-exaggerated surprise when Shinji brought his bowl of—what seemed to be daily—curry to the living room table.

 “Shinji! Are you feeling alright? Gracing us lowly roommates with your presence… we’re honored! Right, Toji?” Kensuke had exclaimed.

“Yeah Shinji, are you sure you want to eat with us plebs? You’re not too disgusted by us?”

They all laughed, and Toji slapped him playfully on the back, but there was clearly more to the comments. Shinji had been neglecting his roommates—his… friends, hopefully. Just because they shared a living space didn’t mean he could take these relationships for granted. It was obvious that Toji and Kensuke had been hurt by his lack of interaction over the past couple of weeks.

So, Shinji had vowed to try and attend as many dinners with his roommates as he could. And now, here he was, the following evening, sitting at the living room table with his usual bowl of curry. Tonight’s show was another anime about a dark-haired guy who could compel people to do whatever he wanted if they saw one of his eyes. Shinji liked it. He hadn’t watched much anime before college, but his roommates were clearly fans. He made a mental note to get the name of this one and watch it on his own time.

As they ate in relative silence, occasionally commenting on the show, Shinji felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out with a confused look. The sensation had become more common, but he still found himself bewildered by the idea of someone voluntarily contacting him. He unlocked the phone.

Asuka: Wunderbar!! We have a gig everyone! I just came from Dr. Akagi’s office and she informed me she recommended our group for an event this weekend. I will email with further details, but the job is Saturday evening, I believe it will be for some type of corporate event.

Asuka: I understand we’ve only rehearsed a handful of times, but I think Dr. Akagi has quite high hopes for us. Wir haben das verstanden!!

Mari: Omg a gig already?? Hell yes! I can’t wait! I have the perfect dress for this too…

Rei: *thumbs up*

Shinji’s stomach dropped as he stared at the messages. A job already? Cold fingers of dread seeped into his bones. He had known they would have quartet gigs at some point, but apparently the reality hadn’t sunken in yet. He felt like he was going to vomit.

Rather than immediately putting the phone away and retreating to his room however, he found himself thinking of Kaworu. Would he be interested in hearing about this update? Maybe talking to him could calm me down... Shinji wondered. The heaviness that had just settled on his shoulders seemed to lighten a bit.

Kaworu had messaged him a couple times over the last few days. Little things like “The weather is really nice today, hmm?” and “This Rachmaninoff is killing me, lol”. Shinji enjoyed it immensely, getting these small updates from someone. Like they were thinking about him. Like they cared.

Hesitantly, he opened the chat with Kaworu. He checked his watch: 7:36pm. It wasn’t that late. Kaworu would still be up, maybe eating dinner like Shinji was. He took a steadying breath, ignoring the thoughts that he’d be bothering Kaworu, or that he wouldn’t care.

Shinji: Hey, hope your night has been going well. Just wanted to let you know my quartet just got its first gig this weekend! I’m super nervous, but the other members seem excited.

He paused before sending; he wanted to add something more but didn’t know what to say. Again, thumbs hesitated over the keyboard before continuing: I wish you could see me play.

Before he could stop himself, he smashed the send button and pocketed his phone. Shit, shit! Was that too much? That was definitely too much. But he said he wanted to see me play, and I-I want to play for him. His heart pounded in his ears as he took calming breaths and tried to resume eating.

Kensuke and Toji hadn’t seemed to notice his panicked texting, clearly engrossed in their anime, much to Shinji’s relief, but he remembered his earlier promise to himself—to do his best to nurture the relationship with his roommates.

“So, uh,” Shinji began, both sets of eyes turned to look at him, “Looks like my quartet has a gig Saturday.” He said with a meek smile.

“Oh hell yeah, good work Shinji!” Toji said with yet another slap on Shinji’s back, this guy loved hitting people it seemed.

“Hey, that’s awesome! Who’s the client?” Kensuke remarked, pausing the show.

“Not sure, Asuka said she’ll be sending more information later. She said it was for some kind of corporate event.”

“Nervous?” Toji asked.

“I mean, of course! We’ve only rehearsed together like three times,” Shinji looked to his lap, picking at his cuticles, “But I do think we sound pretty good, and we’ll probably try to get together tomorrow to practice… but our biggest obstacle will probably be me.” He ended with a sigh.

Toji and Kensuke exchanged a look before Kensuke said, in a rare moment of seriousness, “Shinji, you’re a really solid cellist. I know you have some pretty crazy performance anxiety but, the more you play in front of others, the easier it’ll get.”

“Yeah man,” Toji moved his hand from Shinji’s back to his shoulder giving him a reassuring squeeze, “I know we shit on you a lot, but you’re seriously awesome. Anyone at this school has to be, regardless of whether or not you’re some big shot’s kid.” He winked knowingly.

Shinji looked at his friends and smiled softly, “Thanks you guys. I wish you could attend but, I’ll be sure to tell you how it went afterwards.”

“Awesome! Now, respectfully, shut up Shinji. We’re getting to the best part of the episode.” Toji grinned, playfully, shoving Shinji’s shoulder as he pulled his hand away. Shinji chuckled and continued with his dinner.

---

As he washed his dishes Shinji checked his phone—no notifications. Usually, Kaworu was quite fast with his responses. Half the time, Shinji couldn’t even put his phone away before the text bubble indicating Kaworu was typing popped up. However, other than reaching out to schedule their first meet up, Kaworu had been the one to initiate text conversations thus far. Is he ignoring me purposefully? Shinji worried. Suddenly he realized the bowl he’d been washing had been sparkling clean for some time. He placed it on the drying rack.

He’s probably just away from his phone, Shinji tried to tell himself as he made his way to his room. His doubtful thoughts began to claw at his rationality, But it’s been over 20 minutes and he still hasn’t texted you.

Shinji sat at his desk and opened his laptop, hoping to distract himself with his ever-expanding list of assignments. As he began working on the paper for Art History he had started the other day, he found himself unable to stop picking up his phone every minute or so.

Get a grip, goddammit, he told himself in frustration. After about 10 minutes of attempting to write, he suddenly stood up with a huff. He couldn’t focus. He wanted to go back in time and unsend the message. He hates me. He’s purposefully ignoring me. I said something stupid at some point, and now he hates me. His anxious thoughts spun in a constant loop, each one more overwhelming than the last.

He found himself going back through their chat log, searching for where he might have messed up—where he had said the wrong thing, as he was wont to do.

“Ugh!” he threw his phone onto his bed, slumped back into his chair, and put his head into his hands in despair. “I’m such an idiot.” He whispered to himself. No matter how many times he tried to rationalize why Kaworu hadn’t texted him back yet, his anxious thoughts kept disproving his theories.

He’s just busy.

He hates you.

Maybe his phone is off?

He hates you.

 Maybe he went to bed early.

HE HATES YOU!

After a few minutes of surrendering to his inner turmoil, Shinji stood up and made his way to the bathroom. He fished his phone out from the bed sheets, where it had slipped and gotten stuck, before heading out of his room. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the device behind. A bath will calm me down, he thought numbly, though the idea of it offering any peace seemed increasingly hollow.

As he sank into the warm water, the weight of despair began to settle in. Discarded again, he thought with a bitter, hollow laugh. It was only a matter of time; it always is. He should never have texted Kaworu in the first place. He should have just let him forget him; it wasn’t hard to do. Hugging his legs to his chest, Shinji lowered his head, his eyes welling with tears as the overwhelming sadness began to consume him.

Buzz.

Shinji jolted upright and shot his hand out to his phone, which had been placed precariously on the bathroom sink. Bath water splashed the floor as he moved and, in his hurried attempt to snatch his phone, it tumbled into the sink. 

“Crap!” he exclaimed, stumbling to his feet in the tub and spilling even more water onto the floor as he reached into the basin.

Water droplets smeared the screen as he unlocked the phone with wet hands. His heart skipped a beat when he saw who had texted: Kaworu.

Kaworu: Hey, so sorry I didn’t see your text earlier! I was in the practice rooms and you probably know, there’s like no reception in there. That’s so exciting!! I also wish I could attend…I'll just have to see your next one I guess *winking face*

Relief washed over Shinji as he realized what had happened. He’d been in the practice rooms, of course. The concrete walls were designed to mute the sound waves, but Shinji hadn’t considered how that might affect cell service—he never used his phone enough to notice. It made sense now that the signal had been weak.

With a deep sigh, he sank back down into the tub, the water now much lower than before, and let the tension slowly ebb away.

Kaworu didn’t hate him. But in that moment of relief Shinji couldn’t help feeling a deep disdain for himself. Why was he like this? Kaworu just hadn’t received my message yet. Why do I always have to assume the worst? Why is my brain always trying to sabotage me? Self-pitying melancholy replaced the feeling of relief for a moment, before his phone buzzed in his hand again.

Kaworu: If it’s not too late, would you like to grab a nighttime boba tea? There’s a shop close to the station.

Shinji’s heart leapt into his throat. Kaworu wanted to see him again, right now! He felt giddy with happiness as he tapped as quickly as his inexperienced fingers would allow.

Shinji: Absolutely! I’ll meet you at the school’s entrance gate, 15 minutes?

Kaworu:  See you soon!! *blushing smile*

He sprang from the bath, grabbing a towel and rushing to his room as though propelled by an urgency he couldn’t quite explain. His fingers trembled as he buttoned his usual white collared shirt, hastily smoothing down his wiry hair. As he stood before the small mirror on his desk, he tried to force a smile, bracing for the usual sense of disgust he’d feel at his own reflection. But this time, something was different. The smile that met him seemed genuine.

I’m going out to spontaneously meet a friend! A small, surprised giggle escaped his lips as he grabbed his things and bolted out the door. 

---

Kaworu greeted Shinji with his usual genial smile and a wave.

"Shinji! You're panting. What, did you run here?" Kaworu's head tilted back as he laughed heartily. Shinji, who had indeed run most of the way from the dorms to the entrance gate, gasped for air, trying to steady his breathing before he could reply.

"I *gasp*... I didn’t want to keep you waiting," Shinji managed. He suddenly became acutely aware of how ridiculous he must look. Kaworu would've been fine waiting a few minutes. Now I look like some desperate weirdo, he thought with a flash of annoyance.

Kaworu, however, didn’t seem to mind at all. He smiled gently, placing a hand on Shinji’s shoulder. "I appreciate that you wanted to get here as fast as possible," he said warmly. "And I’m glad you wanted to see me, despite the last-minute invite."

If Shinji’s face wasn’t already flushed from running, he would have blushed. How can he say such embarrassing things with such a straight face?

“Anyway, boba shop is this way,” Kaworu pointed to his left, “Let’s go, you can tell me about the gig.”

The two men walked side by side in the quiet of the early evening. Streetlights illuminated a path scattered with the last cherry blossom petals of the season. Most of the trees had already shed the bulk of their flowers, now focused on growing the thick green leaves that would usher in summer.

Shinji told Kaworu about the quartet gig, about how nervous he was; mostly worried he’d let down the other members. Kaworu simply watched and listened with quiet attentiveness. He didn’t interrupt or offer unsolicited solutions, he just allowed Shinji to spill out all his anxieties about the upcoming event, like water flowing from a broken faucet.

A few minutes of walking passed before they were in a small shopping center. Kaworu led them to a small shop with a boba cup decal on the door. Once the two were inside, eyeing the menu, Shinji replayed the walk to the shop. He realized with horror he’d talked about himself the entire time. What was I thinking? He wondered. What possessed me to dump all my fears and anxieties on Kaworu like that? We hardly even know each other!

As he stared at the menu, dissecting the last few minutes of his life, he hadn’t even realized Kaworu was now looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, sorry Kaworu. I totally missed what you said just now.”

“No worries,” Kaworu replied with a light laugh. “I was just asking what you were thinking of getting. It’s on me.”

Shinji’s chest tightened. He quickly averted his gaze back to the menu, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He decided to just pick the first thing he saw.

“Thanks, uh, I’ll have a Vietnamese coffee then, with pearls.”

“Wow, not planning on sleeping tonight?” Kaworu laughed, playfully nudging Shinji before approaching the counter. Shinji flushed, his cheeks burning as he tried not to dwell on how nice Kaworu’s laugh sounded. He took a seat, nervously picking at his cuticles as he waited for Kaworu to order.

Thirty minutes later, their boba cups were long since emptied, but the conversation between them never seemed to lull. Shinji found himself speaking with a kind of ease he hadn't felt in a long time. It was as if, in Kaworu’s presence, there was no judgment, no expectation—just a sense that he genuinely cared about what Shinji had to say.

Shinji began sharing things he would never have brought up with anyone else. He talked about his music preferences, about his newfound interest in anime; he even confessed his love of cooking. How he found solace in preparing meals, even if it was just for himself.

Kaworu listened intently, absorbing every word with the kind of focus that made Shinji feel like he was the most important person in the world. It was as though Kaworu was starving for Shinji’s words, devouring conversation like a hungry animal finally finding a meal after a long, cold winter. Shinji felt like he could talk forever, and Kaworu would never get tired of listening.

Eventually, the shop owner politely reminded them that it was closing time, and so Shinji and Kaworu found themselves standing at the school gate, once again. As they bid each other farewell and Shinji began walking back toward the dorms, it was only then that he realized something: once again, he’d been the one doing most of the talking.

Whenever he tried to open the conversation for Kaworu, it always seemed to shift back to him. Kaworu had listened intently, sure, but he hadn’t shared much about himself.

Why doesn’t he ever talk about himself? Shinji wondered, his fingers instinctively reaching for his cuticles as the thought gnawed at him. There was something unsettling about that thought.

While it had felt refreshing to speak with someone who seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, a quiet doubt began to creep into his mind. Was Kaworu just being polite, or was there something more to it?

He resolved that the next time they met; he’d find a way to get Kaworu to open up. He’d find a way to shift the focus onto him, to learn more about the person who had been listening so intently to his own stories.

A warm breeze stirred the trees overhead, carrying the promise of summer with it. Shinji looked up, the sudden feeling of evening air on his face a welcome contrast to the stirrings of his mind.

Summer was certainly on its way.

Chapter Text

Shinji swallowed thickly and wiped his hands on his trousers as the train doors opened. For the millionth time he checked to make sure he had all his supplies on his person: phone, wallet, keys, music, cello. He looked in the music folder, all the repertoire he’d anxiously shoved into it this morning was still there, no pieces had magically burst into flames.

He felt a kick on the hard cello case strapped to his back.

“Move it Shinji! We’re gonna miss our stop!” Asuka chastised him from behind.

“S-Sorry.” He muttered, stepping onto the train platform. Signs reading Mitaka Station hung overhead. Asuka, Mari, and finally, Rei all exited the train behind him, Mari stretched her arms.

“Ah, finally! That train was so packed, bleh, felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

“Ugh, welcome to Tokyo.” Asuka said with a grimace. “Now,” she continued, pulling out her phone.

“Looks like the office is in Gotenyama Hattori Hall, this way.” She began walking to the exit of the station, the three others following like ducklings behind their mother. Shinji found himself side by side with Rei as they walked. He’d hardly spoken to her past their introduction and small comments regarding the pieces they worked on rehearsal together. As they walked, he stole a glance at her quiet, somber face.

“So… are you from Tokyo?” he tried.

“Yes, Matsudo.” She answered, simply. Shinji waited for her to continue, to keep the conversation going, but after a few seconds he realized she was clearly finished speaking.  

“Oh, aha… I-I’ve never been to Matsudo myself. Are your parents still there? You able to visit?”

“Why do you want to know?” she asked in her soft monotone, still looking straight ahead as they walked.

Shinji paled, was he offending her? He was just trying to make small talk, to get to know her.

“J-Just making conversation is all. You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.” He stuttered.

“Oh.”

More silence.

Just as Shinji was about to give up and say, "Sorry, never mind," with an awkward laugh, she spoke again.

“Yes, my parents still live in Matsudo. The train ride is rather long, so I visit every few weeks for dinner typically.”

There was a pause, and Shinji chanced another glance at Rei. Instead of her usual blank face she seemed to be intently thinking. About what? He wondered as the silence stretched again. He waited.

“… And you?” She finally asked, “Where are you from?”

Shinji smiled with relief, “Ah, Nagoya! Just moved here to attend Kunitachi about a month ago. I don’t have a particularly close connection to Nagoya, but I think prefer it to Tokyo, it’s just so busy here.”

After a pause, briefer this time, Rei responded faintly, “Yes, Tokyo is quite noisy. After school I think I’d prefer to live in a smaller city.”

I really like her, Shinji thought with a smile. She’s calming, like Kaworu. Seems like she might not be the best at talking to others, but I don’t mind that.

They continued their awkward, halting conversation for a few more minutes until Asuka proudly announced, “Well all, we have arrived. Bist du so weit?” She finished with a snicker. They stood in front of an office building, surrounded by a sea of identical structures. Without the building number displayed above the door, it would have been nearly impossible to tell one office from another.

Mari shoved Asuka’s shoulder, “Japanese, please, Asuka. You’re literally fluent!”

“Ugh, I said ‘are you ready?’. God, Ich bin von Idioten umgeben!”

“Jeez, alright already, let’s just get inside. They’re expecting us at 6 right?” Mari asked, rolling her eyes.

“Ja. Let’s go everyone.” Asuka said with a wide smile.

---

They all exited the elevator on the second floor and were promptly greeted by a reception desk. A woman with short dark hair and large hoop earrings, wearing a tight black dress, flashed them a bright smile.

“Oh, you must be the quartet from Kunitachi we booked! Welcome to Gainax, thanks so much for coming, I know this was probably a bit last minute.”

“Not at all, we’re happy we could be of service!” Asuka replied in a bubbly tone. Shinji grimaced; it’d be nice if she acted this friendly with us… he lamented.

“Wonderful,” continued the receptionist, “So, I’ll show you where we’ll have you performing.” She rose from the desk and began leading them down a hallway, “Just start whenever you see people begin to arrive. This is our company anniversary dinner so expect a lot of important-looking big wigs.” She laughed.

“And help yourself to the buffet in between pieces, or sets, whatever you guys call them.” She added with another giggle.

They stepped out of the hall into a spacious office with high ceilings. The cubicles that once filled the room had been pushed to one side, making way for an open area. This space was now occupied by tables loaded with an assortment of hot and cold buffet-style dishes, a small bar, and several foldable high-top tables.

The receptionist directed them to a corner where four chairs had been set aside.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I look forward to hearing you play!” she said with a wide smile.

They all bowed as she left and began arranging the chairs and setting up the portable music stands Mari had been carrying in a tote bag. Once they were sitting with instruments out Shinji began to feel the dread of anxiety seeping in.

Talking to Rei on the walk had distracted him from what they would be doing this evening, but without anything, or anyone, to distract him, he suddenly felt the weight of performance anxiety bearing down upon him.

Asuka and Mari were chatting between themselves and, as per usual, Rei just stared quietly ahead. None of Shinji’s companions seemed to notice the rising panic he was desperately trying to suppress. His hands began to sweat anew, his heart rate quickened, and his stomach gurgled angrily. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly, but it only seemed to grow more difficult with each passing second.

I can’t do this. I can’t. I have to get out of here, his mind shrieked. Just as he felt he could no longer bear it and was preparing to bolt to the nearest restroom to hide, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He’d meant to turn it off earlier, but the thought had apparently slipped his mind. He took it out.

Kaworu: Hey there, just wanted to say good luck tonight! You’re going to totally crush it! Really sad I can’t be there so you better not leave out any details when we talk about it later lol

Shinji smiled at his phone. Kaworu was thinking about him—not only about the gig, but even the time Shinji had mentioned they'd be performing. A warmth seemed to spread from his chest out to his extremities, banishing away the icy fingers of fear that were threatening to consume him just a moment ago.

Before he could type a response, Asuka smacked the top of his head with her bow. "Look alive, stupid! Phone away!" she hissed. Startled, Shinji quickly stuffed his phone back into his pocket as the first guests began to enter the office space.

---

A few hours later Shinji unlocked the dorm room door and swung it open. He nearly dropped his music folder as he was immediately met with shouting. Kensuke and Toji, who were sitting in front of the TV as usual, turned toward the entrance and began cheering at Shinji’s return.

“Woooh! Go Shinji, you did it man!” Toji lauded.

“Yeah, how’d it go? Did you crush it like we knew you could?” Kensuke asked brightly.

Shinji couldn’t stop himself from grinning like an idiot at his roommates. It seemed they’d been waiting for him to return just so they could congratulate him.

“It… it went really well actually!” he laughed giddily.

It had gone well. After almost bolting out of the building he’d found the courage to stay, to face his fear. He had to thank Kaworu for his uncanny ability to sense exactly when Shinji needed to be encouraged. His hands hadn't gotten so sweaty that it affected his playing, and he hadn’t rushed through the pieces, forcing the rest of the group to scramble to keep up. Overall, they had sounded great! They received multiple compliments from the party guests, and even Asuka—whose compliments were rarer than a solar eclipse—could only sing their praises on the train ride home.

 “Hell yes!” Toji shouted, and he actually jumped up, running over to Shinji and wrapping an arm around his neck, ruffling his hair.

“Ah, quit it! What are you, my dad?” Shinji laughed, pushing him away.

“We’re just so proud of you, son!” Kensuke joined them at the entrance, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. “And we got you something to celebrate.” He added with a smirk.

Kensuke led them to the kitchen and pulled out a small box from the shared fridge.

“Seriously, good job on your first public performance Shinji. Those ain’t no joke. Like I said the other day, it’ll get easier over time, but still.” He opened the box to reveal a small chocolate cake. “It’s important to celebrate the little things.” He finished with a warm smile.

Before Shinji could react Toji patted his back, “Now go get changed so we can break into this bad boy! Kensuke had to wrestle me away from it multiple times tonight already.”

Shinji sprinted to his room, feeling almost euphoric. He couldn’t remember the last time he had such a good day. He felt so… happy. When was the last time he felt this good?

He set his cello down and began to undress when he heard the increasingly familiar sound of his phone vibrating. But this time, it didn’t stop after one buzz—it continued vibrating every second or so. He fished it out of the pants he’d already kicked into the laundry bin, his brow furrowed in confusion. The last time he’d received a call was before the semester started, when his father had scheduled their meeting before the first day of class.

Kaworu Nagisa, the screen read.

Shinji dropped the phone in surprise. Why was Kaworu calling him? Hadn’t he said he didn’t like talking on the phone? As Shinji reached down to retrieve the device his mind immediately began racing. Has something bad happened? What if he got hit by a car and he’s in the hospital? No, they wouldn’t call a random friend if that was the case… what if-

Before his mind could anxiously ruminate on all the disastrous reasons for a potential call he answered and put the phone to his ear.

“Um, hello? Kaworu?”

A pause.

“Oh, Shinji!” Kaworu’s suddenly voice came through, sounding a bit breathless. “Sorry, I know this is an unexpected call. It’s just that… “ He trailed off.

“Kaworu? Is everything alright?” Shinji asked with a concerned tone.

“O-oh yeah! Everything is great. Are you home… right now?”

Shinji cocked an eyebrow at the question. “Yeah, I just got home.” He answered warily, not sure of what else to say.

A pause followed before Kaworu replied, “Um, well you see… uh… I’m downstairs.”

Shinji nearly dropped the phone again. Why is he here?! He checked his watch; it was nearly 10pm. He wasn’t sure when the last train was, but it had to be within the next hour or two he wagered. Clearly something was wrong, why else would Kaworu both call him and show up unannounced.

“Oh, o-okay. I’ll be right down! Just give me a minute!” Shinji pinned the phone to his ear as he grabbed a clean pair of pants, re-buttoning the shirt he had begun to remove before the call.

“J-Just stay there Kaworu!” he said, too loudly, as he sprinted out of his room, past Toji and Kensuke’s quizzical looks.

“Hey, where are you-“ Kensuke started as Shinji slipped his shoes on.

“Sorry guys, I’ll be right back!” Shinji glanced at them before rushing out the door. He could hear Kaworu giggling on the other end of the line. Why did I not hang up? Again, I look like a desperate weirdo, Shinji lamented as he huffed down the stairs.

“Sorry, I’m *gasp* I’m almost downstairs. We’re on the 4^th floor so it’s a *gasp* bit of a hike.”

More giggling.

“It’s okay, you don’t have run!” Kaworu laughed mirthfully.

Shinji’s ragged breaths hitched at the sound of that laugh. He hoped Kaworu didn’t notice. Finally, he made it to the bottom of the stairs and swung around to the front of the building.

There he was, illuminated by the soft glow of an overhead streetlamp, looking almost like an angel—just as Shinji had seen him on the auditorium stage. He held a small gift bag in his hand.

“Hey there,” Kaworu said, and his lilting voice echoed through the phone Shinji still pressed to his ear.

He quickly ended the call, ignoring the knot it felt like his stomach was twisting into. Just breathe, Shinji. Why are you getting so worked up? He thought with exasperation.

They walked towards each other, and Shinji tried to steady his still gasping breaths. He needed to stop running to meet this guy, it was seriously embarrassing. After they closed the distance between each other there was an awkward silence, it seemed neither of them knew how to begin discussing why they were having this spontaneous meeting.

After a beat they both began to speak at once.

“So-“

“Well-“

They stopped and laughed awkwardly.

“You first,” Shinji offered.

“I’m sorry for the spontaneous visit. I knew where the dorms were since I lived here last year, but I’m sure you thought something was wrong.” He laughed bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“It’s just that, well, I got you something…to congratulate you I mean…” He extended the hand holding the small bag to Shinji. “I-I wanted to give it to you the next time we saw each other but… well I was in the practice rooms again this evening and I-I figured you’d be getting home from the event around now.” Again, he laughed. He seemed to laugh whenever he was nervous.

“Sorry, this probably could’ve waited; I hope I didn’t ruin your night with this whole showing-up-unannounced thing…”

“No!” Shinji blurted out. “You didn’t ruin my night at all.” He took the bag with a warm smile, and then he stopped, and looked to his feet, taking a steading breath. Meeting Kaworu’s eyes again, he smiled once more.

“Would you like to come upstairs for some cake?”

Chapter Text

Re-entering his dorm Shinji was greeted by complaints.

“Maaaan, why’d you let Kensuke bring out the cake and then make us wait? I’m practically drooling over here!” Toji whined.

“Yeah, you ran out of here like the Flash, where the heck were you even going?” Kensuke chimed in.

Shinji’s face grew hot as Kaworu entered behind him. Before he could tell his roommates to shut the hell up, Kaworu began speaking.

“Oh, apologies, that was my doing. I… sort of showed up unannounced,and Shinji offered for me to come up for cake with you guys—if that’s acceptable of course?” He flashed that warm, gut-wrenching smile as he removed his shoes.

“No way! Shinji, did you make a friend?” Kensuke asked incredulously.

If Shinji's face wasn't already noticeably flushed, it certainly was now.

"Th-This is Kaworu Nagisa, guys," he stammered. "He’s a second-year pianist. We met on the first day of classes." He turned to Kaworu, meeting his gaze. "Kaworu, these are my roommates, Toji Suzuhara and Kensuke Aida."

Toji and Kensuke greeted Kaworu, and a few minutes later, the four men sat around the low living room table with cake, plates, and utensils divided between them.

“Hey, I jus’ remembered somethin’.” Kensuke said through a mouthful of cake.

“Bro, please, for the love of God, stop talking when your damn mouth is full!” Toji groaned, rolling his eyes.

Kensuke swallowed the oversized bite with a near-audible gulp.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I was just saying—I remembered Shinji mentioning this guy. At least, I’m pretty sure it was you, Kaworu—at lunch on our first day. Remember?”

Shinji looked at his Kensuke with alarm. They’d been talking about cute girls that day, and he mentioned Kaworu because he was so striking. The last thing Shinji wanted was for Kaworu to hear that he’d been so captivated by his appearance that he’d felt the need to mention it to his roommates.

Before he could change the conversation’s topic Toji was already speaking.

“Oh yeah! He had talked about meeting someone that looked like an anime character!” he slapped his knee with a laugh, “I totally forgot about that. Man, Kaworu, you seriously do look like straight outta an anime. Is that all natural, dude?”

Shinji’s stomach fell through the floor. Why, WHY did Toji have to remember that he said that specifically??

“Oh… um…” Kaworu began, his gaze dropping to his cake. There was a look on his face that Shinji hadn’t seen before—something soft and hesitant—and it sent a pang through Shinji’s chest.

 “Seriously man, you must get chicks hitting on you like left and right bein’ so pale! And that hair… damn I wish I had those kinds of unique features.”

Shinji noticed Kaworu wringing his hands under the table, his gaze still lowered. He’s uncomfortable! Shinji realized, feeling like a massive dunce at not seeing the obvious signs. Anyone being referred to as looking like an anime character probably would be, and Toji had the grace of a bull in a china shop.

Kensuke smacked the back of Toji’s head, knowingly, “Dude, don’t comment on someone’s appearance like that! Jeez.”

“Ow! I’m just sayin’, no need to get physical.” Toji complained, rubbing the back of his head in annoyance.

“I-It’s okay,” Kaworu gave a smile, his fake one, Shinji was beginning to recognize. The one he showed when he was trying to hide that he was upset, “I… actually have a form of albinism. That’s why I’m so pale, and, well, my eyes. Besides my appearance, I have pretty terrible eyesight, but other than that, I’m no different than the rest of you guys.”

“Ah…” Toji looked at his plate with remorse. “Sorry man, that was really rude of me.”

“No, it’s okay, really. I’m used to it. It’s hard for people not to remark on a Japanese guy with natural white hair and red eyes,” Kaworu said with a half-hearted laugh, taking another bite of cake.

An uneasy silence settled over the living room. After a moment, Kensuke—seemingly the one with the most tact among the three roommates—shifted the conversation to something else.

“So, Kaworu, I’m assuming your first recital is coming up this week, like the rest of us, watchya playin’?”

And so, the conversation resumed on a lighter note.  The rest of the small cake was consumed, and an hour later Shinji rose from the table to escort Kaworu at least to the entrance of the dorms, possibility even the station.

Before they left, however, Shinji remembered, “Wait, Kaworu, I didn’t open my gift yet!”

“Oh, no worries, you can open it after I leave.”

“No way! I want to see your reaction—that’s one of the best parts of gifting someone something!” Shinji replied, even though he couldn’t say he really knew from experience, having never had anyone in his life to give a gift to. Still, it made sense to him that Kaworu would enjoy seeing his reaction in real time.

Shinji grabbed the small bag from the kitchen counter, where he’d left it, and gestured for Kaworu to follow him to his bedroom.

“I’ll keep it quick; I know the last train is in like thirty minutes,” Shinji said as they entered his small room. “And apologies for the mess. I just didn’t want Kensuke and Toji spying while I opened this.” He laughed, though honestly, that was only a half-truth.

While he’d enjoyed having his only three friends in one room—eating cake and conversing—Shinji kept thinking about how much he preferred talking to Kaworu alone. When it was just the two of them, Shinji felt like the only person in the world. The attention Kaworu gave him was addictive, and he almost felt jealous of sharing it with anyone else.

They sat beside each other on the bed, and suddenly, Shinji felt his heart rate pick up. This situation felt a little… strange. Like something he’d seen in a movie once… a romantic one. Kaworu’s thigh lightly rested against his own. Their shoulders almost touched. He could hear Kaworu’s soft breathing only a foot or so from his face. He swallowed.

There’s nowhere else to sit, that’s why Kaworu is sitting so close. He’s just here to see me open his gift and then we’ll leave, he told himself. He tried to control his breathing, and ignore his pounding heart that he prayed Kaworu couldn’t hear.

“Ready?” he looked over with, what he hoped, was a carefree grin.

“Have at it,” Kaworu smiled.

Shinji reached a hand in the small bag and felt a small piece of rectangular plastic. He raised an eyebrow as he pulled it out.

A cassette tape. A cassette of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, along with several other Beethoven piano sonatas.

Shinji’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened. How does he know I listen to cassettes? He thought in bewilderment. Almost everyone listens to music on their phones these days.

The only worldly possession Shinji had from his mother was her old cassette player she’d gifted him just before she died. He was too young to value it then, but luckily, he’d managed to unintentionally pack it with the rest of his things when he was forcibly moved to Nagoya as a young child.

Whenever he had free time—usually while walking between classes or working on assignments these days—he would pop the headphones in his ears, almost instinctively. Since it was such an old item, he rarely found new music to play on it, and as a result, he often cycled through the same five cassettes he'd collected over the past decade of his life.

After a moment of silence, Shinji still didn’t speak, and Kaworu seemed to start doubting his choice of gift. “Do you… like it?” he asked hesitantly.

“H-How? How did you know?” Shinji finally managed to say, his gaze still fixed on the small cassette in his hand.

Kaworu laughed. “Come on, Shinji! We might’ve only met a few times, but I’d be blind not to notice that old fossil you use to listen to your music. I happened to find this in a shop yesterday and thought it’d be perfect. The first, and hopefully not the last, piece I played for you was Beethoven too. So, it really worked out!”

Shinji had a hard time believing that Kaworu had just happened to find a cassette of the exact piece he had performed for him, but he wasn’t about to interrogate the gift-giver. He clutched the cassette tightly in his hand. Had anyone ever given me something with this much thought behind it? he wondered. Aside from the cello from his father, had anyone ever given him, well, anything at all?

Kaworu had paid enough attention to him to notice that he regularly listened to music when he was on his own. That he used a thirty-year-old device to do it. He even remembered the piece he played the first time they had properly introduced themselves. Why? Shinji found himself asking. Why is he going to these lengths for me? What does he see in me?

And suddenly, the tears he hadn’t realized had been welling up in his eyes began to spill softly down his cheeks.

Kaworu’s face twisted into one of horror, “Ah! Shinji, w-why are you crying? Do you hate it? Crap, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten anything, omigod this is so embarrassing! Hold on, let me find a tissue…” He began to wildly scan the room for a box of tissues, but Shinji quickly wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“S-Sorry, ‘s fine… this shirt is dirty, anyway,” he said thickly, his voice shaky. He took a steadying breath before continuing with a quavering tone, “I love it, Kaworu. It’s just that no one has gifted me anything like this before… I guess it just hit me kind of hard, is all. Sorry, this is embarrassing.” He laughed weakly, taking another deep breath, trying to compose himself.

Kaworu sighed with relief. “Jeez, you scared me. Next time I gift you something, I’ll include a box of tissues!” they laughed giddily at that, leaning on each other’s shoulders. Shinji then stood and placed the cassette lovingly on his desk. “Come on; don’t want you to miss the train.”

He couldn’t seem to stop smiling as he walked Kaworu to the front door.

---

Following the highs of that Saturday, the next week brought the lows, as it marked the first round of recitals for the semester. Recitals were events held two times throughout the semester where every student, as part of their degree requirements, had to give a formal performance to showcase their musical skills and artistry in front of an audience.

Typically, the audience consisted of faculty, who would judge and grade the performance, as well as other students, friends, or family who wanted to watch and offer support. The recitals took place throughout the entire week, and, as was typical for Shinji, he was stuck with a Friday performance. He supposed it was better than being at the beginning of the week, as he had a few more days to prepare, but being at the end also meant more time to wait and stress about what felt like his impending doom.

The campus buzzed with stress. Every student seemed to be at their breaking point, and Shinji noticed that hygiene had gone by the wayside for most of them. The practice rooms were booked solid all day and well into the nights. Though Shinji had booked himself three hours of practice time every day leading up to Friday, he still found himself practicing late into the night at home as well.

One nice thing about being at a music school, at least, was that everyone living in the dorms was in the same boat, and no one seemed to mind hearing the practice noises seeping through the walls at 1 a.m.

Shinji’s private tutor, Misato, seemed to be even more disorganized than normal this week. Recitals were equally hard on faculty, with many scheduling extra one-on-one practice sessions outside of typical hours. As Shinji worked with her during the extra hour he’d requested on Wednesday evening, he could see that she had barely slept the last few days. Her hair was a rat’s nest, hastily pulled into a messy bun, and dark bags had formed under her eyes, sagging with exhaustion.

"Okay, Shinji," Misato sighed, clearly trying to keep annoyance out of her voice. They faced each other with their cellos in hand in a small practice room. "Let’s take it again from measure 110. Remember, you really want to bite down on those quarter notes and then immediately back off. Keep the sixteenths really separate. Like this." She played a few measures of the music to demonstrate.

"Sorry, Ms. Misato..." Shinji mumbled. He’d been making a lot of stupid mistakes tonight and knew it was frustrating for both of them.

"Don’t apologize to me, Shinji. Every musician that’s ever lived makes mistakes. Just try to breathe and don’t get in your own way."

Shinji straightened his posture and put bow to string. The section Misato had him start from began with light spiccato-style sixteenth notes, where the bow bounces off the string to create a series of short, detached notes. He could get through this part of the piece with ease. As he played, Misato began offering her critiques.

"Watch your dynamics!" Misato called out.

The shifting volumes in the piece, from quiet to loud, were particularly challenging in this motif, especially when combined with the fast-paced sixteenth notes. Shinji focused hard on the markings for changes in volume as he played, trying his best to keep his performance in line with the music’s demands.

"You're flat!"

Misato pointed out, noticing the high-pitched eighth notes he was playing were slightly out of tune. Shinji adjusted his left-hand fingers, making a quick correction.

"Louder! This is the climax!"

Shinji pressed his bow harder into the strings, playing toward the big climactic moment in the piece. The part he dreaded was approaching—the part he couldn’t seem to get through no matter how many times he practiced it that day. The build-up to a high G note involved not just fast sixteenth notes and complicated fingerings, but also precise bowing techniques as he moved the bow back and forth. He could feel the tension building, both in the music and within himself.

He always tripped up at this part of the piece, and this time was no different. As he built up to the seemingly impossible passage, his fingers moved faster than his bow could keep up. The buildup to the big, decisive moment fell apart like a wind scattering a deck of cards Shinji had just finished stacking.

"Damn it!" he cursed, slamming the fist that held his bow down onto his knee. Misato sighed.

"Let's call it for tonight. We're not going to get anywhere with how frustrated you are right now."

"I can do it! Just let me try again," Shinji protested, his voice thick with determination, though his frustration was clear.

Misato smiled sadly at him. "Listen, Shinji, I know you can do it. You're the one who feels like you can't. You're one of the most promising cellists I've seen come through Kunitachi during my tenure. But…" She leaned toward him and flicked his forehead playfully. "You're so stuck in your damn head; you get in your own way. I’m ending our lesson for today. Practicing when you're angry with yourself is a waste of time. I suggest you take the rest of the night off and start fresh tomorrow morning. You've got a little less than two days until your recital—no need to burn yourself out before then."

"Besides," she added with a yawn, "I quite literally haven’t slept in 24 hours. I need a beer, a bath, and, honestly, a fu—"

"Okay, Ms. Misato, thanks for the advice!" Shinji said quickly, frantically cutting her off before she finished that thought. She should NOT be saying things like that to her student, Shinji thought wearily.

They packed up their instruments and waved farewell as they went their separate ways outside the practice room.

Two more days… Shinji thought grimly. Though his recital was looming over him ominously, he couldn’t help but feel a little excitement at the prospect of the next day. Tomorrow I can take a break in the afternoon to go see Kaworu’s recital, he thought, smiling to himself, as he began the walk home. He donned his earbuds and Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata began to play.

---

As Shinji entered the auditorium the next afternoon, he noted it wasn’t terribly full—at least compared to Kensuke or Toji’s recitals earlier this week. Both of his roommates’ auditorium attendance had been quite high for a recital; about half full. The majority of attendants had been other wind and brass students. It seemed even in college band geeks were still band geeks—boisterous and highly supportive of one another.

In contrast, the audience for the program of recitalists that Kaworu was performing in today was much smaller and quieter. Only about a quarter of the theater seats were occupied, and a significant portion of the audience consisted of faculty members. Despite the many empty seats near the front of the stage, Shinji chose a seat toward the back of the theater.

Shinji wondered if Kaworu was nervous. He’d mentioned a few times that he was playing a particularly difficult piece. Does he get stage fright as bad as I do? Shinji thought, absentmindedly picking at the skin around his nails. Earlier that morning, he’d texted Kaworu to wish him good luck and let him know he’d be in the audience. Now, as he waited for the program to begin, he pulled out his phone. Would it be distracting to text him good luck one more time?

Opening the chat with Kaworu, Shinji’s thumbs hovered over the screen. He hesitated, but just as he began to type, a faculty member stepped onto the stage to announce the start of the program. Quickly finishing the message, Shinji hit send and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Shinji: Good luck!!! I know you’re going to be amazing. I’m sitting in the back, didn’t want to stress you out, but I can’t wait to see you perform.

Shinji tried to shove down the ever-present panic that rose in his throat after texting Kaworu unprompted. He could only hope his message would be seen—and maybe even appreciated—by the pianist. To distract himself, he glanced at the small program the usher had handed him at the entrance. Scanning the list of performers, his eyes landed on the third name: Kaworu Nagisa, sophomore, piano, performing Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini by Sergei Rachmaninoff.

The first two recitalists—a vocalist accompanied by piano and a solo violinist—performed and exited the stage, though Shinji hardly noticed. While his gaze was fixed forward, his attention was elsewhere, lost in a fog of anxious thoughts.

It feels like I’M about to walk out on that stage, not him, Shinji thought, wiping clammy palms on his jeans. Why am I so nervous? He’ll sound amazing.

At least, Shinji hoped he would. He realized with a sinking feeling that he hadn’t given much thought to how skilled Kaworu was compared to his fellow piano majors. Shinji had only heard him play once before. What if Kaworu didn’t do well? What if he messed up? What if he got poor grades?

What if I’ve been distracting him from practicing, and he fails because of me?! Shinji suddenly thought in a panic. His stomach twisted as the guilt threatened to consume him. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take a deep breath. No, that’s stupid. Kaworu will do amazing, and even if he doesn’t, that’s not on me.

Though he tried to focus on this rational thought, it felt flimsy, disappearing as quickly as it came. His nerves spiked again as the performer before Kaworu bowed and exited the stage. Shinji’s whole body tensed, anticipation winding through him like a spring pulled taut.

The brief moment of silence that followed—the stage empty, the audience hushed—seemed to stretch into an eternity. Shinji aged a thousand years as he sat there, paralyzed. What was life before this moment? Was there anything before this waiting?

Finally, time seemed to resume flowing, as footsteps from the left wing of the stage echoed into the hall. Kaworu entered the audience’s view.

His soft white hair was as unruly as ever, sticking out in every direction. Dressed simply in an all-black outfit—a long-sleeve button-down, slacks, and polished loafers—his lithe frame seemed even more delicate. Against the dark clothing, his pale skin and striking features seemed extra blinding.

Shinji’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of him.

Beautiful, Shinji thought, before immediately shoving the notion back down into the deepest depths of his subconscious. Jesus, Shinji, guys don’t think other guys are beautiful. Get a grip, he chastised himself, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

By the time Shinji managed to compose himself and turn his attention back to the stage, Kaworu was already seated at the piano. He sat perfectly still, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling slowly as he took deep, measured breaths. It seemed almost like a ritual—a moment of meditative peace before he touched the keys.

After a few seconds, Kaworu’s hands hovered gracefully above the instrument, and with a gentle, deliberate movement, he began to play.

The opening notes were slow, elegant, and intimate, a melody that dripped with romanticism. It felt as though each note was chosen with care, soft yet full of intention. Kaworu’s right hand wove a delicate, shimmering theme in the higher register while his left provided a rich, grounding harmony, the two perfectly balanced.

As the piece progressed, the melody—though remaining recognizable—began to grow in complexity. Extra notes slipped in, layering the music, deepening it. The soft texture of the piece started to shift, morphing into something fuller, more passionate. The gentle caress of the opening bars gave way to a growing urgency, every phrase pulling Shinji further into the music.

Shinji sat frozen, his earlier nerves forgotten. There was nothing in this moment but Kaworu and the piano, the music filling the hall with an intensity that seemed to resonate in Shinji’s very bones.

Shinji could tell Kaworu was building to the dramatic climax of the piece. He shuddered, feeling his hairs stand on end. The music was so raw, so achingly emotional that it almost hurt to listen. Kaworu’s eyes were closed, his face almost pained with feeling.

Shinji couldn’t take his eyes of the pianist even if an earthquake had begun to shake the building’s foundation; he would have remained rooted in place, hypnotized. Every muscle in his body was tensed, his breath caught somewhere in his chest as if even the smallest movement might break the spell.

Then, after the sweeping wave at the apex of the piece, the music’s texture shifted. Shinji felt the grip on his heart relent; he exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, shakily. This theme sounded more melancholic—less sweeping but lilting, and tender. Shinji felt himself swaying with the music.

A silent pause stretched, fragile and expectant, and then the final closing notes—the initial melody played slowly in the lower registers of the instrument.

It was as if Kaworu’s hands were running through Shinji’s hair, soothing him to sleep. Each note felt so loving, so warm, as though it was meant only for him. Shinji’s throat tightened, his eyes glazing with tears.

What is this? He wondered in awe, heart pounding in his chest. He’d never been moved by music like this before. It was both breathtaking and terrifying, an intensity of feeling he hadn’t known he was capable of.

The sound of Kaworu’s final chord ended, the last reverberations echoing off the auditorium walls.

A moment passed as Kaworu looked at the piano in front of him. Then, he stood and bowed shallowly to his audience. Scattered applause filled the hall as he walked off the stage, but Shinji didn’t clap. He was already out of his seat, rushing toward the doors that led to the lobby of the concert hall.

He sprinted past a few confused-looking students in the lobby, through the “Staff Only” doors into the backstage corridor. More bewildered students and a handful of faculty watched him hurry past, some calling out half-heartedly: “Slow down!”.  Shinji ignored them all, careening around the bend at the end of the hallway and nearly crashing straight into Kaworu.

“Shinji?!” he exclaimed, grabbing Shinji’s shoulders to steady himself. “What are you doing back here?”

Through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, Shinji could feel the dampness of Kaworu’s hands. He glanced up to see Kaworu’s face slightly flushed, a faint pink brushing his cheeks. So he had been nervous, Shinji realized with a smile.

“Sorry, it seems like all I ever do is run around you,” Shinji panted, trying to catch his breath. “But I just— I just had to tell you…” He tilted his head back, exhaling a deep sigh before meeting Kaworu’s eyes again. “You sounded so good. I’m glad you didn’t tell me the name of the piece beforehand. I might’ve looked up a recording, but hearing it without any prior reference was magical.”

Kaworu’s hands left Shinji’s shoulders to cover his reddening face. “Shinji, you’re making me blush…” he mumbled through his fingers. “It really was a mess. I was all over the place with the tempo, and I know I missed a bunch of notes in the climax. Ugh…” He trailed off in defeat, shoulders slumping.

But Shinji only giggled, his light laughter filling the hallway.

“If that was your idea of a bad performance, I can’t imagine what a good one would sound like!” Shinji said, grinning brightly.

Kaworu peeked through his fingers at Shinji’s beaming face before lowering his hands and bowing his head with a small smile. “You’re amazing, Shinji. Seriously.”

This time, it was Shinji’s turn to look shocked, his cheeks immediately flushing red. “I-I’m just telling you the truth. Anyone would’ve thought the same, I’m sure…” he mumbled awkwardly, avoiding Kaworu’s gaze.

Kaworu just smiled warmly at him and let out a soft sigh. “Well, honestly, the last thing I want to do is stick around this hall and watch the other performances. I’m sure you need to get back to practicing, but… want to grab a quick boba?”

Shinji’s face lit up with a smile. “Totally,” he replied, nodding enthusiastically.

Falling into step beside Kaworu, Shinji followed him out of the theatre.

Chapter Text

Shinji silenced his alarm before it had even finished the first ring. Morning sunlight dappled cheerfully across the floor of his room, but his mood was anything but bright. He’d hardly slept the night before, restlessly flitting between nightmares of showing up to his recital without his cello or breaking down in tears in front of the audience.

Though he knew he needed to get to practicing as soon as possible today, he couldn’t seem to get out of bed. He had approximately six hours until his recital, yet it felt more like an impending execution. Curled beneath the covers, he let his thoughts spiral, anxiously replaying every fear about his first public solo performance.

I can’t do this. I can’t move.

Get up.

I can’t, I’m going to fail everyone and make a fool of myself.

You won’t. Get up.

I can’t.

The argument replayed in his head over and over again. He felt nauseous as his empty stomach gurgled and churned. Wrapping his arms around himself, he held on tighter, silently pleading with his body to move—to do something.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, though Shinji’s watch revealed it had only been about twenty minutes, he sat up. He clapped his hands to his face and slid them down with a long groan. Just start by brushing your teeth, he told himself, swinging his feet down to meet the cold floor.

When he made it to the practice rooms an hour later, he didn’t feel much better. He had no appetite but had forced himself to get a meal shake from a vending machine on the way over to campus; he’d barely gotten halfway through the bottle.

Unpacking his cello and setting the heavily marked sheet music in front of him he tried to breathe and calm himself. There were still hours until the performance; he reminded himself there was no need to feel this overwhelmed. He needed to focus. Perhaps trying Kaworu’s method might help—a moment of silence before playing?

Once he was ready to play, and had run through a few scales to warm up, he put his bow on the stand before him, rested his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

In. Out.

Allow the anxious thoughts to come and go. Don’t focus on them.

Just. Breathe.

When he opened his eyes and picked up his bow, he noticed his heart rate had slowed slightly. A soft smile crept across his face as a small glimmer of hope emerged—maybe this day wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all. With that thought, he began to play.

---

Shinji arrived at the concert hall about thirty minutes before the day’s program of recitals was set to begin. As he made his way to the backstage area, he nodded at a few familiar faces among the other musicians. Most of the performers were also members of Philharmonic, and, as if on cue, Shinji ran into a particularly familiar face as he rounded the corner at the end of the hall.

“Guten Tag, Shinji. Looks like you’re on today’s program too. Too bad for you—I’ll be outshining everyone here,” Asuka declared with a flip of her fiery red hair.

She was dressed in a stunning red evening gown—sleeveless and high-necked—that clung to her figure and sparkled with every movement. Shinji couldn’t help but glance her up and down, momentarily struck by her commanding presence.

“Asuka, wow, you look amazing,” Shinji blurted out. How could he not? She did.

“Hmph, just wait until you see me play,” she replied with a smirk. “I’m second on the program. They should’ve put me first—idiots. But it looks like you’re on fourth. Are you nervous, Wunderkind?” She gave him a playful nudge.

“O-Of course! Are you not?” he asked, incredulous.

“I’d only be nervous if I thought you could keep up with me,” she teased. “So, prove to me you can, and we’ll see at our next recital!”

Shinji couldn’t help but feel envious. She’s so competitive. I wish I had that kind of drive… he thought gloomily. Fortunately, he didn’t have to prolong the conversation—if it could even be called that—because Asuka had already been distracted by someone approaching from down the corridor.

“Kaji!” she called out in an unusually bubbly tone.

Shinji turned to see her run past him, her sparkling evening gown revealing a deep V in the back as she flung herself into the arms of a tall, scraggly-looking man with a ponytail. Shinji couldn’t stop himself from grimacing at the man’s unkempt appearance before quickly composing himself.

For a moment, he lingered awkwardly, unsure of what to do. But it became obvious that Asuka had no intention of introducing him to the faculty member she was so enthusiastically fawning over. With her excessively cheerful voice echoing down the hall, Shinji made his way around the corner, relieved to put some distance between himself and the scene.

Settling in one of the dressing rooms on the opposite side of the hall from backstage, he was able to take his instrument out and warm up his fingers. He tried to ignore his reflection—a difficult task considering the walls of the room were lined with mirrors—as he played a few scales before moving towards attempting the most challenging bits of his piece.

Before long, other recitalists began filtering into the dressing rooms, each setting up their instruments and starting their own practice routines. The backstage area gradually transformed into a cacophony of competing melodies—a symphony of preparation that was oddly comforting to Shinji. It reminded him that everyone was facing the same pressure today.

Even Asuka eventually reappeared, slipping into the room with her violin. Without a word, she began practicing, her confident presence adding to the energy of the space.

The thirty minutes of grace period Shinji had given himself before the beginning of the recitals passed far too quickly for his liking. After what felt like only thirty seconds, not minutes, a stagehand poked their head into the dressing room to announce that the program was about to begin.

Shinji continued practicing, doing his best to focus as the first soloist left the room. His breaths were coming quicker now, and his heart beat faster. But if he could just keep playing, maybe he could drown out the spiraling thoughts racing through his mind.

There were speakers in the backstage hallways, so the next performers knew when to enter the doors to the back of the actual stage in preparation. As the first performer was finishing up Asuka tapped Shinji on the shoulder.

"Come on, Wunderkind," she said, a mischievous smile on her face. "You’ve never seen me solo, and I want to blow you away."

Shinji hesitated for a moment. I don’t know if I can handle seeing someone as talented as Asuka play right now... But it seemed rude to say no; clearly, she valued his opinion, at least to some degree. Gingerly, he laid his cello on its side and stood. With a fierce grin, Asuka turned and stalked toward the backstage doors, not even checking to see if Shinji was following.

As they entered the back of the stage, the reality that he would be performing in the next fifteen minutes or so began to sink in. He could hear murmurs from the audience in the hall and the echoing final notes of the first soloist as they ended their piece.

“Child’s play,” Asuka remarked under her breath. She seemed annoyingly confident, even more than usual, and Shinji began to suspect that this was her way of dealing with the pressure of performing. As they made their way to the side of the stage, where Asuka would enter, he turned to her and smiled wide. “Break a leg.”

Rather than the dry retort or insult Shinji had expected, Asuka smiled back, and he noticed an almost imperceptible quiver in her lips. The previous soloist exited the stage past them, and then, after a beat of silence, Asuka inhaled sharply and began to walk into the audience’s view.

Though Shinji was glad he’d found reassuring words for Asuka, he sure didn’t feel them for himself. As she bowed, put bow to string, and began to play, he found his eyes wandering to the crowd after a moment. Not that Asuka didn’t sound absolutely breathtaking—playing a solo violin arrangement of O Mio Babbino Caro—but seeing the faces transfixed on the stage made Shinji’s already upset stomach drop to his feet.

He spotted Kensuke and Toji, who had said they’d be there to support him. There was Ms. Misato, and was she sitting with that scruffy guy Asuka had hugged earlier? They made a weird pair. He searched around for Kaworu, who had also promised to attend, but Shinji couldn’t seem to find his white-haired head.

He began searching the audience more urgently, Asuka’s music becoming fainter in his ears. Where was Kaworu? As his eyes scanned the crowd, they landed on the second-level balcony. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. A single man sat in the center front of the balcony, his familiar hands steepled in front of eyes obscured by red-tinted glasses.

Father.

Why was he here?! Shinji panicked. It wasn’t unheard of for the school’s director to attend events, but to his knowledge, his father wasn’t one to attend recitals, typically. These events happened often enough throughout the semesters that they probably seemed trivial. Yet there he was, staring down at the stage as if it were an anthill he was about to kick.

Shinji felt a deep pang of disgust in his gut. He clenched his fists, anger and fear mixing together. I was barely keeping it together already, and now this? Now he’ll be watching too? It was too much. His throat tightened.

Asuka finished her piece with a dramatic flair of her bow, bowed, and walked offstage toward Shinji.

“Sooo, what did you think? Am I amazing or what?” she whispered with a grin, as she passed.

Shinji didn’t say anything. Everything felt tense; his teeth were clenched, his jaw rigid. Asuka had started to walk back to the dressing room when she realized he hadn’t followed. The next performer walked up behind her to enter the stage.

She turned back to Shinji and pulled on his arm. “What the hell is wrong with you, stupid? Can’t you say anything?” She frowned in annoyance, but he only looked at his feet.

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled.

“Huh?” Asuka whispered, trying to keep her voice low while they were still in the auditorium.

“I can’t do this!” Shinji hissed, his voice likely too loud, before wrenching his arm from her grip and bolting through the backstage doors into the corridor. He looked around wildly, then sprinted toward the restrooms at the bend in the hallway. He could hear Asuka calling after him angrily as the bathroom door slammed shut behind him.

Stumbling into the largest stall with a loud bang, he leaned back against the dirty, tiled wall with a heavy sigh and sank to the floor.

“Damn it… Damn it!” he heard himself cursing.

Everything had been going okay—the quartet gig, sitting first chair in philharmonic, even his relationships seemed to be thriving these last couple weeks. Yet now, here he was, hiding on a dirty bathroom floor. Pathetic, he thought. All I do is run. I want to be brave like Kaworu said, but… I can’t.

He pulled his knees to his chest and lowered his head, his mind spiraling.

I can’t do this. Why did I come here? Father will desert me now. I’ll have nothing. No one. Everyone will hate me and think I’m pathetic. I AM pathetic. Why do I even try, I should just end it all. I won’t feel all these things when I’m gone.

Shinji felt his throat tighten at the idea of death.

No, I don’t want to die. Someone help me, I don’t know what to do! I’m too scared to perform. I’m too scared to be alone. I’m too scared to die. WHAT DO I DO?!

He began to breathe harder, his throat tightened further, it was as if there was another Shinji sitting across from him, hands around his neck and squeezing as tightly as possible. Shinji clawed at the buttons of the collared shirt around his neck, but undoing them seemed to bring no relief.

I’m dying! I’m dying! I’m dying! His mind reeled, over and over and over.

His hands trembled. Blood thundered in his ears. The irregular, rapid pounding in his chest was terrifying. His heart was going to explode!

The room swam before his eyes. He broke out in a cold sweat, still gasping for air. He was going to pass out and die here, on this dirty bathroom floor, like a spider curling up and dying under a house.

Over the rushing in his ears, he heard the bathroom door swing open. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in there, losing his grip on reality, but he assumed Asuka had followed him to yell at him and force him to do the impossible: perform today. That ship had definitely sailed.

“Go away *pant* Asuka,” he managed weakly.

His head remained bowed into his chest, eyes closed, trying to steady his dizzy mind.

The stall door swung open, and Shinji braced himself. Damn it, she was going to slap him for being like this. And she’d be right to do so, he thought.

But no slap came. Instead, Shinji looked up and managed to open his eyes for a moment.

Kaworu’s deep crimson eyes stared back at him.

He sat on his haunches, eye level with Shinji, his gentle face lined with deep concern.

“Shinji…” he breathed softly, a trace of sadness in his voice. He reached a hand to caress Shinji’s cheek, and Shinji leaned into the touch. It was cold and soft. His eyes closed again.

Shinji wanted to ask Kaworu why he was backstage, wanted to apologize for Kaworu having to see him like this, wanted to tell him to look away… but no words came. Only wheezes as he gasped for the air he couldn’t seem to find.

After studying him for a moment, Kaworu moved his hand away and instead clasped Shinji’s hands in his own.

“Shinji, keep your eyes closed. Just breathe. Listen to my voice.” He said with measured calmness.

He began to massage his thumbs into Shinji’s palms, hard. The pressure was almost painful.

“Focus on the sensations in your hands. The pressure in your palms. The texture of my thumbs. The direction of the movements. Breathe.” Kaworu began. His voice was even and slow.

“This will pass. Just focus on my hands. You’re doing great. You’re not dying. Just… breeeathe.” He slowly exhaled the last word, continuing to massage Shinji’s palms. Shinji felt his heart rate begin to slow and his throat begin to loosen, just a bit.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed as they sat on the dirty bathroom floor, Kaworu speaking in his slow, soothing voice, while Shinji took deeper and deeper breaths. Eventually, Kaworu stopped massaging his palms, and Shinji opened his eyes.

His friend was smiling sadly at him. “Welcome back,” he said. Shinji simply leaned toward Kaworu in exhaustion, feeling the pianist’s cold hand through his dress shirt as Kaworu rubbed his back.

Shinji was about to speak, to ask the myriad of questions now bouncing around in his mind, but suddenly, the bathroom door opened with an echoing bang. He hastily sat up, and Kaworu immediately dropped his hands as the bathroom stall violently swung open to reveal a sparkling red evening gown.

“Shinji!” Asuka barked, “Zum Teufel?? Are you in the habit of running off like a pathetic fool?”

Shinji was about to argue, to tell her that she was in the men’s bathroom, but she steamrolled through whatever protests he may have had.

“Whatever, I don’t need your excuses. Listen, blondie here stopped me from coming in to whip some sense into you and asked me to talk to the stage manager about changing the program. Now, are you going to perform or not? She was willing to move you to the end of the concert, but she needs a confirmation that you can play!”

Shinji paled, looking from her to Kaworu.

He couldn’t still perform—not after all this! That was like asking him to do open-heart surgery with Parkinson’s disease.

 “You can do it, Shinji. I promise you.” Kaworu smiled reassuringly. He swallowed, and after a moment, met Asuka’s fiery gaze.

“… Okay. Tell them I can play,” he finally managed.

She grinned fiercely, “That’s more like it, Wunderkind. You have twenty minutes” she said, quickly striding out of the restroom.

Kaworu helped Shinji to his feet and chuckled, “You look a mess. Hold on, let me fix you up before you go out there.”

They exited the stall, and Kaworu grabbed some paper towels, wetting them in the sink. When Shinji saw his reflection, he realized Kaworu was right—he was a mess. He looked half-dead: his face drained of color, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his concert clothes dirtied from the bathroom floor. It seemed the backstage restrooms didn’t receive the same attention to cleanliness as the front-of-house areas.

“Here, look at me,” Kaworu said, blocking Shinji’s view in the mirror as he began gently wiping the sweat from Shinji’s forehead. The act felt intimate… loving. Had anyone ever cleaned Shinji up this way before? He was so used to taking care of himself that he didn’t even protest as Kaworu continued.

After a beat of silence, Shinji spoke. “How’d you know I was in here? Why were you back here?”

“I saw you run into the restroom from down the hall. I just wanted to wish you luck in person before you played. I’m glad I was here when I was— that violinist looked like she was about to break the door down, the way she was coming after you,” Kaworu laughed.

Another moment of silence passed before Shinji asked the real question that was on his mind, “How’d you do that earlier? With… your hands?”

Kaworu’s hand paused for a moment, before resuming its task of wiping Shinji’s brow. “I learned when I was young,” he said with a sad smile. Shinji waited for him to elaborate, but there was only silence.

He ignored the flash of frustration at Kaworu refusing to open up, yet again.

“Well… it really helped. Thank you. I—” He hesitated, unsure if he should continue explaining the sudden onset of panic attacks he’d been stricken with. Then again, Kaworu had just seen one happen. He sighed and continued.

“That’s what happened at my first audition, and I—I couldn’t continue afterward. I thought it was a one-time thing, but the other week it happened again. Ugh, what is wrong with me?” He snapped his gaze to the ceiling in frustration.

“Just when I was starting to feel okay, like I could handle myself… this happens! Why am I like this?” He lowered his eyes to meet Kaworu’s. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this. It’s pretty miserable, right? The one student who should be struggling the least in the entire school, cowering in a bathroom stall.” He laughed bitterly.

Kaworu just looked at him sadly. “Listen Shinji –anxiety, panic attacks… they don’t just go away. If you want to get better, you learn to live with them, learn to manage them the best you can. But,” he took Shinji’s hand, “You don’t need to be so hard on yourself! Regardless of your background, your problems are still very real to you. So please,” he squeezed his hand, eyes intently staring back at Shinji, through him, as if he was talking directly to Shinji’s inner self. “Don’t call yourself miserable, or cowardly, you’re not. At all.”

Shinji blinked, not knowing what to say. Kaworu was so sincere. The way he stared so painfully earnestly into Shinji’s eyes made his chest hurt. He found himself asking again, Why does he care? What does he see in me? He didn’t know, but he wanted to—more desperately than he’d ever wanted to know anything. Why had Kaworu taken such an interest in him? Why didn’t he seem to want to talk about himself? And what ways could Shinji crack open that impenetrable mind?

He squeezed Kaworu’s hand in return. “Thank you,” he said, hoping the words conveyed the overwhelming gratitude he felt toward the man before him—the only person who had ever seemed to truly, deeply care for him since his mother.

Then, after a silent moment, holding hands and staring at each other with gentle smiles, the spell seemed to break, and both men returned to themselves.

“Oh, s-sorry, aha…” Kaworu said suddenly, letting go of Shinji’s hand, his pale cheeks flushing crimson.

“No, i-it’s okay. You’re just cleaning me up,” Shinji forced a chuckle.

An awkward silence followed, and neither of them could seem to meet the other’s gaze. Kaworu looked at the floor, and Shinji at a cracked tile on the wall past Kaworu’s head.

Finally, Kaworu inhaled sharply, saying, “Well, sweats gone, and the color has certainly returned to your cheeks.” He giggled and Shinji, not realizing he’d also been blushing, turned his head away in sudden embarrassment.

Kaworu quickly walked around Shinji, brushing off his concert outfit—cheap black slacks and a black blazer over a white collared shirt.

“There, looking pretty good. Oh, hold on,” he said, returning to face Shinji and buttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, which Shinji had nearly broken off in his frantic state.

Straightening Shinji's collar, Kaworu smiled. “Handsome as ever,” he murmured, then immediately turned beet red, snapping his gaze to his feet. “A-A-Sorry,” he stammered.

Shinji just stared wide-eyed; head completely devoid of coherent thought.

Quickly Kaworu turned and opened the bathroom door, “G-Good luck. I’ll be in the audience,” and before Shinji could reply, Kaworu was practically running down the hall.

Chapter Text

The brief confidence boost Kaworu's encouragement had given Shinji faded as soon as he re-entered the dressing room. All the other recitalists were eyeing him as he returned to his cello and resumed practicing. Well, they had to change the program for me, so that’s to be expected, Shinji thought dismally, before forcefully pushing the thought aside.

It didn’t matter what they thought of him. He refused to let his insecurity affect him now—not after the lengths so many people had gone to in order to get him back in here. With renewed focus, he began concentrating on the toughest parts of his piece, his face set with stoic determination.

I mustn’t run away. I’ve got this. He repeated the mantra to himself as he played.

As he practiced, he managed to get through the difficult buildup to the climactic notes of the piece—the section he had struggled with the most—on every other try. But frustration quickly rose as his fingers stumbled over the same notes, he had just played correctly moments before.

I’m not going to make it through the piece. I’m going to mess this part up, and all the effort Kaworu and Asuka put into helping me will be for nothing, his mind whispered, and panic began to creep into his throat.

No. It doesn’t matter if you play perfectly or not. You just need to get on that stage… that’s all they wanted.

With a firm sense of resolve, he pushed the rising fear aside and continued to practice.

Soloists slowly continued to vacate the dressing room, until only the sound of Shinji’s cello echoed off the mirrored walls. He was next. He could hear the second to last recitalist begin their piece.

He stopped playing, wondering if he had time to run to the restroom, his stomach twisting with anxiety. Even if he did have the time, there was a high probability if he re-entered that restroom that he wouldn’t be able to leave—overcome by fear.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he stood up, cello in hand, and made his way to the backstage doors.

As he took his place in the wings, waiting for the previous soloist to finish, a cold wave of fear began to settle over him.

The sea of faces in the crowd, the heavy silence beneath the recitalist’s resonating music—how on earth did I think I could do this? Shinji thought, desperately trying to close his eyes and take a steadying breath.

“Don’t run away. Don’t run away. Don’t run away.” He found himself whispering.

Suddenly, there was silence, followed by echoing footsteps and scattered applause. The soloist had finished and was now walking past, as Shinji opened his eyes.

“Good luck,” the man said softly, offering a warm smile. Shinji felt a surge of nausea.

Expectant silence settled onto the auditorium.

Move. MOVE! Shinji urged his legs, willing them to obey.

He couldn’t move. He was frozen. Fear gripped his heart with icy claws. His mind screamed in a loop: I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! The silence stretched on for too long, and soon, confused whispers began to ripple through the audience. His eyes snapped shut again.

Then, he remembered Kaworu’s words.

“Anxiety doesn’t go away. You learn to live with it. Deal with it.”

Shinji took a deep, shuddering breath and forced his eyes open.

I’m in control. I will NOT run away.

With newfound resolve, he began to walk into the audience's view.

As he stepped onto the stage, he saw the grand piano and a chair positioned for soloists who needed to sit while playing. He took his seat, facing the audience, his mind racing. He wondered, with mounting panic, if the audience could hear the frantic pounding of his heartbeat.

Against his better judgment he stared into the theater for a moment, at the faces waiting for him expectantly. He paled. He must’ve looked terrified—like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, moments before losing its life.

But in that fleeting moment, his eyes locked onto a head of pale white hair. Kaworu, sitting next to Asuka. Kaworu smiled and nodded at him.

With that simple, silent acknowledgment, Shinji steadied himself, put his bow to the strings, and began to play.

He was timid at first, playing more gently than Misato would’ve liked, he knew, but as he got comfortable Shinji found he was breezing through the piece with relative ease. He kept his eyes either closed or looking down at his instrument, no need to look back into the crowd that had frozen him with fear a moment ago.

It was just Shinji and his cello.

He got through the first complicated set of quick sixteenth notes well, then lingered on the long, deep notes that followed them, swaying with his bow as he moved it back and forth. Yet, as he built to the next motif of fast paced notes, he felt the familiar anxiety related to this section begin to take hold.

Just keep playing. Even if you mess up, just keep playing, he thought as he started the playful runs, lightly bobbing his head to the rhythm. His fingers began to move at their own pace, as they often did in this section, slipping ahead of the beat. His bow struggled to keep up, and he missed a few notes.

Finally, he pushed through the climactic build-up, hoping that the mistakes he’d made were minimal. He relaxed a little, reminding himself: Just breathe. Don’t stop playing. Breathe. He was over the hardest part. Halfway through.

He felt a surge of satisfaction as he reached the climactic moment of the piece—the first time in the symphony that the soloist played the main melody. It was dramatic, beautiful, and he reveled in the music.

The post-climax section featured a sweet, lyrical motif, almost like a lullaby. Shinji loved this part and smiled to himself as he played the delicate melody. Almost done.

He only had two more difficult sections to tackle. The first was a complex string of slurs, where he had to play multiple notes and strings with a single bow stroke—quietly, no less, as if that wasn’t hard enough. He was a bit out of tune on these, but soon enough, he passed them.

Last push! he thought excitedly.

The final challenge was the lead-up to the last note. He often struggled with the high notes as they descended toward the final low D, finding it hard to stay in tune. As usual, he fought with intonation, but he adjusted as best he could, and before he knew it, the last note echoed off the theater’s walls.

He bowed his head, breathing hard. He’d done it! He’d done it and it had gone okay!

Shinji didn’t want to move. He just wanted to sit on that stage until his bones crumbled to dust, allowing the relief to wash over him. After a moment of silence though, he inhaled deeply, stood, and bowed to the scattered applause of the small audience. As he turned to leave the stage, he glanced at Kaworu. The man was smiling so widely that Shinji wondered if his face was hurting.

He smiled back faintly before turning and walking off.

---

Over the next two days, Shinji was still riding the relief of the recital that had been hanging over his head since the semester started, finally being over. He had his second at the end of the semester of course, but that was months away. For now, he was going to enjoy the post-performance bliss that the weekend brought.

It wasn’t just him either; both Kensuke and Toji were clearly in good spirits with recitals being over. None of them would find out their grades until their next meetings with their private tutors, but none of them seemed particularly worried about that yet. All weekend, the three roommates watched anime, ordered some celebratory takeout, and slept.

After his recital on Friday, Shinji had practically sprinted out of the theater, eager to leave as quickly as he could—especially given the looming possibility of running into his father. On top of that, a sudden wave of exhaustion hit him like never before. All he could think about was getting to his bed and sleeping for a thousand years.

As he left the performance hall behind, he’d gotten a call from Kensuke.

“Hey, where the heck did you go?! Toji, Kaworu, and that crazy violinist in the red dress—“

“Hey! It’s Asuka, Trottel!” Shinji had heard distantly, followed by what sounded like Kensuke getting smacked on the shoulder.

“Ow! Well anyway,” Kensuke continued, “We all came backstage to congratulate you, but it looks like you zipped outta here, where are ya, man?”

Shinji felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t expected all of them to come backstage to greet him. He had considered doubling back, but just the idea of going anywhere except home had nearly made his knees give out.

“Sorry, I’m just, really tired… tell everyone I appreciate it though! I just need to sleep,” He’d replied, apologetically.

Kensuke had simply agreed, saying it was no big deal, much to Shinji’s relief. As soon as he had made it home, he’d collapsed into his bed and immediately passed out, sleeping all the way from late afternoon through to the next morning.

He’d felt bad for not seeing Kaworu afterward; especially given all he’d done for Shinji, but Kaworu must have anticipated that guilt because the next morning Shinji woke to a text message:

Kaworu: Hey, just wanted to let you know you sounded absolutely wonderful yesterday!! I completely understand that you must’ve been exhausted, given that you ALSO had an attack before your performance. Don’t’ worry about yesterday, I hope you slept well and I’m sure we’ll see each other next week!

Shinji, while appreciating that Kaworu wasn’t pushing him to be social, had almost wished Kaworu tried to make plans to celebrate over the weekend. After all, they were both done with their recitals, and he assumed Kaworu would also be taking time to recuperate. But after the initial text, Shinji hadn’t heard anything from Kaworu for the rest of the weekend.

He thought about trying to ask Kaworu to hang out himself, but he just didn’t have that kind of confidence yet. Every time he’d opened the text chat over the past couple days, he couldn’t bring himself to type anything and closed it in defeat.

By the time Sunday evening arrived, Shinji was beginning to feel restless in the small apartment. Other than a grocery store run, he hadn’t left the dorm in days. Even Kensuke and Toji eventually had enough of anime and went out to an arcade for the evening. They’d invited Shinji too, but the prospect of a noisy arcade on a Sunday night wasn’t exactly appealing.

Instead, Shinji found himself wandering the campus aimlessly, earbuds in, lost in thought. He had grown to enjoy these quiet evening walks, especially on Sundays, when the campus felt like his own personal space—completely deserted.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking, but before he knew it, he stood at the doors to the auditorium. Why do I always end up here? he wondered, almost absentmindedly pushing the doors open and stepping inside. Though he hadn’t intended to visit, a thought crossed his mind: Would Kaworu be here tonight? He had mentioned that Sundays were usually when the theater was free…

Pulling his earbuds off, he was greeted only with the hum of the air conditioner, no distant piano music. He sighed in disappointment; he should’ve just tried making plans with Kaworu this weekend. But what if he was busy? What if I would’ve been bothering him? What if he also just wanted to lounge about for a few days? He thought, as he entered the hallway to the back of the stage. He wasn’t sure why he was making his way into the theater; he supposed he had nothing better to do.

Well, he would’ve just told me if he couldn’t meet, his rational side countered. The constant tug-of-war between his logic and anxiety felt so exhausting. He sighed again, pushing open the door that led from the hallway to the backstage area.

Why was he even here? It was clear Kaworu wasn’t around—he was probably at home, relaxing, just like Shinji should’ve been. Shinji rounded the stage dividers and saw the grand piano— its bench empty. More disappointment clouded his thoughts. He walked up to the piano and sat down.

He’d had some basic training over the years, but calling himself a pianist would be a joke, especially compared to Kaworu. All music students were required to take at least some keyboard classes, but Shinji wasn’t planning to start those until next semester. He placed his hands on the keys, his fingers lightly grazing the smooth ivory, imagining Kaworu’s pale hands pressing the keys with the grace that made him seem almost ethereal to Shinji.

 “Do you play?” said a voice from behind.

Shinji yelped, hands jolting away from the keys, as if he’d been electrocuted. He whipped his head around to meet a familiar pair of red eyes.

“Kaworu! Sheesh, you scared the crap outta me,” Shinji exclaimed, laughing a little with embarrassment.

Kaworu giggled, “Sorry, but I couldn’t resist! Consider it payback after the first time you scared me on this stage.”

Shinji rubbed his neck in embarrassment, “That was an accident! Well… I guess sort of, considering I was creeping on you. Wait! That sounds like I was doing something weird, it wasn’t-“

“Relax Shinji, I told you it was fine. I was practicing a moment ago but had to step out to take a call,”

Doesn’t Kaworu not like talking on the phone? Shinji thought, absently.

“Anyway,” Kaworu continued, “You didn’t answer my question. Do you play?”

“Ah,” Shinji turned back to the piano, dropping his hand to his side, “I mean, a little, but I’m not really cut out for this.”

“Nonsense. In life, it’s important to embrace change and try new things,” Shinji heard Kaworu take a few steps towards him, before white hair clouded his periphery, as the pianist leaned down and played a few notes, “It’s simple. All you have to do is hit the keys over here.”

Shinji felt his heartbeat quicken. Kaworu was so close—he could smell his shampoo, hear his breath near his ear. Then, Kaworu moved his hand from the piano and gently clasped Shinji’s wrist. His chest pressed against Shinji’s shoulder as he leaned in further to guide Shinji’s hand to the piano keys.

Shinji suppressed a surprised gasp at the unexpected contact. Kaworu’s hand was cold on his wrist, but the warmth from his chest, the heat radiating from his body, made Shinji acutely aware of the closeness. He instantly missed the connection when Kaworu released his wrist and stepped back, standing upright, waiting for Shinji to play.

After a moment of hesitancy Shinji attempted to recreate the notes Kaworu had just played, haltingly with one finger. It had been too long since he’d played piano, this was embarrassingly bad. Yet, Kaworu stepped over the piano bench, pushing Shinji’s body gently with his own, to make space for them to sit together. Shinji’s breath caught in his throat.

“A piano duet is a great way to talk to each other. It’s a conversation of musical scales,” he said with a smile, and, putting both hands on the upper keys, played the same little melody of notes.

He looked to Shinji, “Go ahead, play something.”

Shinji looked at Kaworu in surprise. Wasn’t his first attempt a clear indication that he wasn’t cut out for this? Yet, under Kaworu’s inviting gaze, he felt a strange sense of encouragement, as if he could try again without fear of judgment.

He brought his other hand to the piano and, with hesitant fingers, tried once more to recreate the notes Kaworu had played. He glanced at Kaworu, almost as if silently asking for more direction. Instead, Kaworu smiled and, with a quick breath, began playing a playful melody—similar to the notes they had just echoed, but more complex and lively.

Shinji jolted slightly with surprise before a wave of determination washed over him. A duet. A conversation of musical scales. Just play. He won’t judge you, he told himself, and tried to play a few notes. They sounded off. He felt like he was ruining Kaworu’s melody, but Kaworu didn’t seem to mind. His fingers continued to dance joyfully over the keys, guiding the melody with effortless grace.

Shinji quickly tried to recall everything he knew about the piano—remembering which keys were which. He started adding some chords as Kaworu’s light melody continued to float above.

As Shinji added his chords, Kaworu responded by bringing his second hand into play, recreating their original melody in both a higher and lower register at the same time. Shinji's fingers accidentally brushed against Kaworu's with the addition of his left hand. Shinji balked, ready to stop and apologize, but Kaworu didn’t even glance at him. Instead, he just smiled to himself, completely immersed in the music, and continued to play.

 “I like it! Our sounds work well together,” he smiled over to Shinji.

Shinji was concentrating far too hard to reply or even smile, but he followed Kaworu’s dancing hands up the piano with his own set walking of eighth note chords.

Then, through an unspoken cue, the song shifted—less playful, more calming and fluid. Shinji felt his tense hands gradually relax, gaining a bit of confidence with each key he pressed. Kaworu’s accompanying melody was beautiful, its smoothness blending perfectly now with Shinji’s rolling triplets, and then sixteenths. Shinji wished he could tear his eyes away from his hands to look at Kaworu, but he could barely keep up as it was, focused on the keys in front of him.

 “Music is so much fun,” Kaworu said, as their melody trailed off into silence, the last remnants echoing off the theater’s walls, “It’s great to play together. I can’t remember the last time I played a duet!”

Shinji caught his breath and smiled to himself. “Yeah… we should definitely continue this another time! I need to relearn my basic piano skills though,” he chuckled.

“You sounded lovely all the same,” Kaworu said with a gentle smile. Then he hesitated, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“If you’d like, maybe you can visit my place to practice sometime. I have a keyboard.”

It sounded like he was going to say more, but only expectant silence followed.

“… Okay, that sounds fun. Maybe I can even bring my cello, or some anime to watch together. Oh! I’d love to cook for you as well!” Suddenly Shinji caught himself, cheeks growing hot, “Ah-um, if that’s okay I mean…”

Kaworu laughed deeply, and Shinji felt his heart skip.

"I’d love that," Kaworu answered. He took another breath as if he were about to continue, but then stopped at the sound of buzzing. His expression shifted to one of irritation as he pulled out his phone.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath before meeting Shinji’s eyes again. "I’m really sorry, I have to take this, Shinji. You head home; I might be a while." He paused, glancing at his phone and then back at Shinji. "It was wonderful to see you. I’ll text you."

He smiled, stood, and left through the backstage doors. Shinji faintly caught Kaworu answering the call in an uncharacteristically harsh tone as he left.

Left alone at the grand piano, Shinji’s mind churned with confusion and frustration. Kaworu had given him the fake smile as he left, and he said nothing about who the caller was. Was it the same person he’d been speaking with when Shinji had arrived? He had so many questions, but no answers.

Sighing, Shinji stood up, the pleasant mood that usually lingered after being around Kaworu now overshadowed by irritation—both at Kaworu and at himself.

I want him to talk to me more, but I can’t force him. It’s not my business. He groaned in frustration. “Ugh!” As he left the hall, earbuds in, he resolved to ask Kaworu about the call the next time they met.

Chapter Text

Returning to his dorm that evening, Shinji couldn’t seem to stop ruminating about Kaworu. On the one hand, the pianist seemed so open and earnest. Shinji felt he could bare everything to him in the way he was never able with any other, and yet… there felt like there was a wall between them, and it was only growing as they continued to get closer.

Why wasn’t Kaworu as comfortable with opening up to Shinji? Am I not trustworthy? Shinji began to ponder, with increasing uncertainty. No matter how many times he replayed their interactions in his mind, Shinji kept coming to two conclusions.

Conclusion 1: Kaworu thought Shinji was too untrustworthy or unstable to rely on.

Conclusion 2: Kaworu was hiding something from Shinji.

Neither explanation was particularly reassuring. With a sigh, Shinji tried to shake the thoughts from his mind, deciding to redirect his focus to school. Kensuke and Toji were still out for the evening, so he heated up some curry and sat down in front of his laptop to tackle the never-ending mountain of coursework.

A few hours into his study session, Shinji received a new email in his university inbox. He glanced at his watch: 10:31 PM. That's odd, he thought. While it wasn’t unheard of for professors to send emails late, it was a Sunday, and especially after recitals. He hesitated before opening the message, and when he saw the sender's name, his stomach twisted.

Dr. Gendo Ikari, Director of Music.

Shinji froze, almost shutting his laptop in panic.

Shinji took a deep breath, pushing past the initial wave of panic, and opened the email. It was a meeting invitation: 8:30 AM, Monday, Dr. Ikari’s office.

His heart sank. He had hoped, against all odds, that his father wouldn’t want to meet with him after the recital. But clearly, that wasn’t the case. A cold sense of dread settled in as he wondered what this meeting would entail. Would it be like the one at the beginning of the semester? Would his father treat him like a tool, or a wayward dog in need of correction?

Shinji couldn’t shake the feeling that the past month had changed him. He’d begun to nurture the small seed of confidence that had always been there, buried deep within him. But as much as he’d grown, the thought of facing his father still felt like a vast chasm to cross. It was one thing to (barely) perform in public—it was another to stand up to the man who had heedlessly abandoned him almost fifteen years ago.

In any case, that was the end of the last shred of concentration he’d been clinging to. First Kaworu, and now his father tomorrow... Shinji felt too mentally and emotionally drained to even pretend he could finish any more coursework tonight. With a heavy sigh, he accepted the meeting request, and closed his laptop.

---

The next morning proved rainy as Shinji and his roommates all commuted to class together. Like the weather, Shinji also reverted into one of his typical gloomy moods. Today, though, it wasn’t just due to his overactive thoughts weighing him down, but the fact that he had to start his day by seeing his bastard father—the man he both hated and yet desperately longed for approval from.

Suddenly, Shinji felt his umbrella jostled. He glanced over to see Toji next to him, using his own umbrella to mess with Shinji’s.

“Dude, you seemed so chill this weekend, and now you're back to acting like we don’t exist,” Toji complained with a pout.

“Honestly, Toji, I don’t blame him,” Kensuke chimed in from the other side. “I barely managed to get out of bed this morning myself. Why did we decide against going to a normal university again?”

“Heh, because normal girls aren’t into band geeks like us, and I’d like to think I work smarter, not harder!”

Even Shinji laughed at that one. Toji seriously needed to find himself a girlfriend with how thirsty he seemed to be getting, as the weeks went by. For the rest of the commute, Shinji made a conscious effort to shake off his gloom, engaging with his friends as they walked, before they reached the school gate.

“I’ll meet you guys at the cafeteria,” Shinji confirmed with them, before turning away. He had been trying to improve on making the first move with plans recently. It was never easy, but he was getting better about not fretting over asking for hours in advance.

As he turned from his roommates, towards the main building where he knew his father would be waiting, the forced smile he’d been wearing faded. He just needed to get this over with.

As Shinji approached the entrance of the building, he noticed someone standing by the doors, holding an umbrella. They were turned away, the umbrella resting on their shoulder, with only their lower body visible. An agitated voice cut through the sound of the rain pattering on Shinji’s umbrella, and the soft Beethoven playing through his earbuds.

“Mom ple-I… I know. If you just- Ugh! I have to go. No, I really need to go… I have class soon! Fine, I’ll call you afterward, okay?! Yeah. Bye.”

The mystery student angrily shoved their phone into their pocket and turned toward the doors Shinji was reaching for. As they did, their familiar red eyes widened in recognition, and the annoyed expression that had creased their pale face a moment before shifted into one of surprise.

“Shinji?” Kaworu exclaimed.

“Oh, Kaworu! I didn’t realize you might be heading to Building One around this time too. I’m here to meet with my father… unfortunately,” Shinji replied with a heavy sigh.

There was a brief pause. Kaworu clearly didn’t seem to be in a great mood either. Shinji glanced down at his feet, uncertain of what to say next.

Had the person who called Kaworu last night also been his mother? Shinji wanted to ask, but now didn’t seem like the right time. He swallowed his questions, knowing Kaworu would likely just deflect if he brought it up anyway.

“Well,” Shinji said, opening the door for his companion, “I won’t keep you. I know you were on your way to class…”

 “Why are you meeting your father? Because of your recital?” Kaworu asked, bowing his head in thanks as he entered the building.

“Dunno. I suppose he’ll just tell me I’m being a disappointment, as usual,” he ended with a humorless laugh.

Kaworu looked at him, but offered no smile or words of encouragement today. It seemed like he didn’t have the energy for any of it. Instead, he simply nodded in somber acknowledgment.

“Well… I’ll be going to class. I like to make sure I get the same seat every time. I’ll see you later, Shinji.”

As Kaworu turned to leave, Shinji’s hand shot out and grabbed Kaworu’s wrist before he could think. The action was so instinctive that he barely understood it himself. He just knew he couldn’t handle seeing Kaworu this way—it felt like his heart was rupturing into a million little pieces. He wanted to help, to be there for him like Kaworu had, but didn’t know what to say.

Kaworu looked back at him with confusion in his eyes.

“Um, I… you don’t have to talk about it right now but, just know you can talk to me if-if you need a… friend,” he ended awkwardly, feeling the color rising in his cheeks.

Kaworu paused before turning back to face Shinji fully. He placed his free hand over Shinji’s, the one still holding his wrist.

"Thanks, Shinji. I really appreciate it..." Kaworu hesitated, as if debating whether to share more, but ultimately said, "I have to get to class now, but perhaps another time."

With that, he gently removed Shinji's hand from his wrist and turned to leave.

Shinji’s gaze dropped. Would Kaworu actually open up another time? He doubted it. Still, at least he’d found the courage to let him know he was there, ready to listen.

Straightening up, Shinji gave himself a soft smile. Baby steps, he thought, before turning toward his father’s office.

---

“Are you intentionally trying to embarrass me, Shinji?” his father asked, his voice sharp and stern.

Dr. Ikari’s office was as cold and unwelcoming as it had been the first time Shinji had entered. The walls, barren and devoid of personality, were lined only with a few sparse bookshelves, each cluttered with academic texts. Shinji noted there were no pictures of family with a derisive huff.

He stood rigidly before his father, hands clasped tightly behind his back. Though only a desk separated them, it might as well have been Tokyo Bay. The gulf between them felt just as wide.

His father continued, his face partially obscured by his glasses and his hands—seemingly permanently—steepled in front of his face. “Why did they alter the program for you?”

“I needed more time to mentally prepare. I… I wasn’t ready,” Shinji tried to keep his voice steady, though it trembled slightly.

“Was the past month not enough time?” Dr. Ikari replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. “It’s not lost on me that you struggle to perform. Can you complete the directive I set for you or not? I asked you to carry the Ikari name and legacy with dignity, but this... you’re an embarrassment.”

Shinji flinched at the words, his nails digging into his palm in an attempt to control the surge of anger building inside him. An embarrassment?! He’d had one slip-up so far. One. He was first chair in the philharmonic—something practically unheard of for a freshman. He’d already been working with a quartet of some of the best musicians at Kunitachi. And on top of all that, he’d managed to keep up with his regular class schedule. Was his father so blind, or so utterly uncaring, that he couldn't see any of his accomplishments?

Shinji stared at his shoes, gathering his thoughts. “I—I was still able to perform, Father,” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, true. When you finally decided to get on stage, you were able to perform,” Dr. Ikari replied, his tone dripping with condescension. “And it was… disappointing.” He drew out the last word, twisting it as though it were a knife in Shinji’s gut.

Shinji bit down hard on his inner cheek, his nails digging deeper into his palm.

His gaze snapped from the floor to his father’s impassive face. He was unable to hide the anger. "I tried my best. Is that not enough for you?!" he exclaimed, suddenly.

"No," Dr. Ikari replied coldly, without a hint of hesitation.

Fuck. FUCK. Shinji could feel the hot, angry tears welling up in his eyes. He was not going to cry. Not here. Not in front of his father. He refused to give him that satisfaction.

“Fine. I’ll try harder at my next recital. I have class. Goodbye, Father,” he said quietly, his voice barely steady as he turned toward the door before Dr. Ikari could even dismiss him.

His father didn’t reply—just let him go, his silence heavy in the room, broken only by the loud slam of the office door as Shinji stormed out. He didn’t need to look back to know that his father was probably smirking at his outburst.

Shinji wiped his wet eyes with his sleeve, pushing the white-hot rage back down into his chest. There was no point in letting his emotions show. His father didn’t care if he was upset. It was easier, better even, if he just pushed this whole meeting out of his mind and focused on getting through the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, like his mood, the weather never improved. The rain continued to pour relentlessly for the rest of the day, a reflection of the storm raging inside him.

---

The next afternoon, Shinji sat across from Misato in her perpetually cluttered and disorganized office. He’d been in a fugue since meeting with his father, barely aware of his surroundings. Suddenly, Misato clapped her hands in front of his face, snapping him out of his daze. He blinked, refocusing his eyes on her.

“Sorry Ms. Misato, what’d you say just now?”

Misato leaned back into her chair behind her desk. She’d wanted to discuss Shinji’s recital before setting up to begin practicing together today, but clearly she could see Shinji’s indifference. With a sigh, she asked, “Shinji, are you feeling alright? Do you even care about your recital assessment?”

Shinji felt a sharp flash of anger rise within him. Why does no one believe I’m trying?

“Of course I care!” he said, his tone a little too forceful, as he huffed in frustration. “I’m just feeling a bit off, is all.”

Misato eyed him skeptically for a moment, her gaze lingering before she turned back to the laptop in front of her. “Well, anyway, looking at your assessment from the judges, you did okay… but,” she paused, her voice softening slightly, “What happened, Shinji? Why did you end up performing last? You looked like you were about to crumble to dust up there.”

Shinji stared down at his hands, absently picking at his cuticles. Misato was his private tutor, the faculty member he worked most closely with—would it be okay to tell her the truth? he wondered. Seconds passed as Misato patiently waiting for his response.

“I… I had a panic attack,” Shinji mumbled, barely audible, his gaze still fixed on his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, dreading the pity he was certain would be written on Misato’s face. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to be one of her most pathetic students.

“I see,” she responded simply, her tone neutral.

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the air between them palpable. Then, Misato broke the stillness with a far too bubbly tone, “Well, that’s something we can work on! I’ve had plenty of talented students who struggled with stage fright. We can get through this, if you’re willing to work with me.”

Shinji lifted his eyes, surprised. He stared at Misato’s smiling face, almost disbelieving. Is she not disgusted, or ashamed by my behavior? he thought. Isn’t it a poor reflection on her as a tutor that I had to alter the entire recital program just because I couldn’t even walk onto the stage?

“Do you think… can you fix me, Ms. Misato?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty.

“Fix you? Shinji, you’re not broken just because you’re anxious,” Misato said with a light laugh. “Even I had terrible performance anxiety when I was playing professionally. Man,” she chuckled, recalling something, “One time I was soloing with the London Philharmonic, and I totally ate shit as I was walking onto the stage. Luckily, a violinist grabbed my cello out of my hands as I fell, but the whole orchestra and the audience saw it. And then I had to perform right after!”

Shinji couldn’t help but giggle, imagining how Misato’s usually relaxed and confident demeanor must’ve looked after such an embarrassing moment.

“Yeah, I nearly drowned myself in the tub that night,” she continued, grinning at the memory. “The performance was pretty crap too; I just couldn’t get out of my head afterward. But it happens. We move on... So, starting today, we’re adding exposure therapy to your homework!” Misato finished with a mischievous grin, clearly excited about her plan.

With that, Misato decided they would focus on Shinji’s philharmonic and chamber music for the next couple of weeks. His second recital wasn’t for a few months, so there was no need to rush into prepping for it just yet. Shinji had been passable in his other performance classes, but he gladly welcomed Misato's expert feedback.

On his way back to the dorms, Shinji’s phone buzzed with a new message.

Asuka: Hello all! We have another gig opportunity this Saturday (thank you, Dr. Akagi!!!). Can I get confirmations that everyone will be able to attend?

Shinji didn’t want to be the first to respond. He pocketed his phone and decided to wait until he got back to the dorm to check it again. Hopefully, Mari or Rei would answer during the walk. Of course, he’d be available as always. Asuka probably didn’t even need him to confirm—she wasn’t blind to the fact that Shinji wasn’t exactly a social butterfly.

While the idea of another quartet gig didn’t fill Shinji with as much dread as it did the first time, he still wasn’t looking forward to it. He was only participating in the ensemble to impress his father, to show he was putting in more effort than the bare minimum required of students. Yet, it was clear his father didn’t care. Or if he did, he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

Shinji slowed to a stop and looked up at the darkening evening sky. The rain that had continued to paint the campus for the past two days had let up for now, but the heavy clouds still hung low, blocking out the last traces of daylight. He just wanted to be happy, but no matter how hard he tried to hold on to those fleeting moments of joy, they always slipped away, like sand through his fingers. Misato had said there was nothing wrong with him, but it sure didn’t feel that way. He closed his eyes with a sigh, trying to shake the weight of it all, before continuing his walk home.

In the end, all three of the other quartet members confirmed their availability for the gig, and after much hesitation, Shinji reluctantly sent his confirmation too, having stewed over it for most of the evening. Later, after a shared dinner with his roommates, he sat down with his laptop to work on his coursework. As he opened his assignments, it hit him— the past month since the semester began had barely been the tip of the iceberg in terms of what lay ahead. The workload was about to get a lot heavier.

Recitals had seemingly been just the beginning—the deep breath before the plunge. According to his calendar, the next two weeks included his first chamber ensemble and philharmonic performances, along with the first round of tests in his academic courses. And on top of it all, there would be his quartet work and practice sessions, as always.

Shinji almost shut his laptop after finishing his calendar, a growing sense of dread gnawing at his stomach. Could I really handle this? he wondered, the weight of the upcoming work pressing down on him. He felt nauseous just thinking about it. Lowering his head to the desk in despair, he asked himself: All this for Father... Do I really want to be here? Is any of this worth it?

He turned his head so that his cheek rested on the desk, glancing toward his bed. Maybe he should just sleep and deal with the stress in the morning... but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t get any easier by then. Procrastination had never helped with his anxieties.

Suddenly he sat up and pulled out his phone. Maybe…  maybe he’d like to study together… Shinji thought, as he opened the text chat with Kaworu. Thumbs hovered over the keypad with anticipation. He’d yet to make plans with Kaworu before, but the worst he would say was no right? And if it was a study session, Kaworu could work on school work. It would be a productive hangout!

The room was silent, save for the soft tapping of thumbs on the glass screen, and Shinji’s shallow breaths. Finally, Shinji hit the send button, and let his head fall back to the desk in relief. A moment passed, before his phone buzzed in reply. Typical Kaworu, Shinji smiled as he sat up, and unlocked the screen.

Shinji: Would you be interested in studying together this week? Looking at my upcoming coursework, I feel like I’m drowning a bit…haha

Kaworu: Of course! Same for me. My place is quiet since it’s just me if you’d like to come here, or we can work in the library or at the dorm. I’m only about a 15 minute train ride away, so I’m flexible.

Shinji bit his lip. Would Kaworu mind if I invited myself to his place? Shinji was curious about his friend’s apartment, and while the dorm could be quiet, there were plenty of times Kensuke and Toji watched TV late into the night, or even practiced their loud brass instruments in their rooms. Shinji began to reply with timid fingers.

Shinji: Would your place really be okay?

Kaworu: Sure! As long as you don’t mind the mess *awkward laughing face*

Shinji: Trust me, nothing will top my private tutor’s office. She literally had beer cans in her recycling bin and empty ramen cups everywhere the day we met.

Kaworu: That’s Dr. Katsuragi isn’t it?? My tutor is Dr. Ritsuko Akagi, I guess they’re old college friends... One time we were chatting after a lesson and she was complaining about Dr. Katsuragi’s tendency to keep her office super messy, and how it was unprofessional lol

That was surprising; Dr. Akagi was the professor that led Shinji’s ensemble class. He hadn’t expected her to be the pianist in residence, but then again, Kunitachi was a small school, staff overlap didn’t seem to be uncommon.

Shinji: Dr. Akagi leads my ensemble class! She’s kind, much more organized than Ms. Misato, that’s for sure. Well, anyway, when would you be okay with studying together this week? Looks like I have another gig Saturday so I’ll probably have a longer quartet rehearsal Thursday.

Kaworu: Another gig! That’s awesome! You’ll have to fill me in on the details. Can you come by tomorrow?

Shinji swallowed, feeling a tight knot in his stomach. So soon... he thought nervously. Though he’d still have a little less than 24 hours to mentally prepare, he figured he could handle it. Plus, he really did need to make some headway on schoolwork ASAP.

Shinji: That works, I’m free after 4p

Kaworu: Great, I’ll meet you at the school gate around 4 tomorrow!

Shinji: *thumbs up*

Putting his phone back on the desk, Shinji looked at his laptop in front of him. More than for his father, Ms. Misato, or even himself, he wanted to show Kaworu that he could handle Kunitachi. When he was with Kaworu, it felt possible somehow—like he had the support he needed. He didn’t want that goodwill to go to waste.

He resolved to finish his music theory homework tonight. That class required the most concentration, and once it was done, he could work on music history with Kaworu tomorrow. A new wave of determination washed over him, and he powered through the theory work with surprising ease.

Tomorrow will be better, Shinji promised himself as he crawled into bed, his heavy eyelids closing as exhaustion finally took over.

Chapter Text

“Welcome to my little sanctuary,” Kaworu chuckled, unlocking the door to his apartment. The building was older, and a bit dingy, but the neighborhood that Kaworu lived in seemed nice. There was a convenience store and laundromat on the ground floor of his complex, and a park across the street. Shinji liked it, the area felt quiet, safe.

Stepping inside, Shinji was greeted with the smells of paper and lavender, reminding him of a library. He breathed in, feeling a deep sense of ease relax his muscles. It was so pleasant—so Kaworu.

As they took off their shoes, Kaworu made his way through the small entrance hallway to the main living space, calling back, “I hope it’s not too cramped in here. I tried to clean a bit before I left this morning!”

Shinji cautiously followed Kaworu, examining his surroundings with an intense interest. This was the first time he’d ever been in a friend’s home, and seeing how a colleague lived was more fascinating than he could’ve imagined. To his right, there was a small wet bath. He didn’t want to intrude too much, but from a quick glance, it seemed clean and organized, with various plastic bottles of products neatly lining shelved walls.

Making his way into the main living area, Shinji noticed that Kaworu had already begun preparing coffee for them.

“I figured you wouldn’t mind caffeinating before we begin,” he said, maintaining concentration on the task at hand, “Is pour-over alright?”

“Of course, anything is an improvement to the instant I make for myself, thank you!” Shinji replied gratefully.

“I’d say reserve your judgment until you taste it,” Kaworu laughed. “Please, make yourself comfortable!”

The apartment was certainly cramped, as Kaworu had warned. To the right of the hall was a small kitchenette, and just beyond it, a desk cluttered with what appeared to be musical scores and various charging cables. At the opposite end of the room was a full-sized bed, with an electric keyboard positioned nearby. A small low table marked the center of the little studio apartment.

Bookshelves lined every available inch of wall space remaining, seemingly bursting at the seams with all kinds of media—textbooks, classic novels, manga, and everything in between. Shinji found the space incredibly cozy. Though small, Kaworu’s apartment was clean and clearly well cared for.

Shinji dropped his bag to the floor and lowered himself to the chabudai, beginning to fish out his study materials.

“I like your place. It’s really comfortable,” he said, opening his laptop.

“Thanks! It’s typical, cheap student housing, but I prefer it to the dorms. I enjoy my solitude,” Kaworu replied, still focused on making coffee.

Does Kaworu have any friends? Shinji suddenly found himself wondering. The pianist had mentioned having a friend in the Philharmonic once, but other than that, Shinji had only ever seen Kaworu on his own. If Kaworu preferred not having roommates, did that mean he simply not enjoy the company of others? And, if he prefers to be alone why the heck is he so interested in being around me of all people?

Trying to distract himself from these uncomfortable thoughts, Shinji asked, “Are you a big reader? I’m seeing a whole variety of titles on your bookshelves.”

Kaworu turned to him, holding two steaming mugs with a smile. He leaned down to set both on the table before grabbing his laptop from the desk and joining Shinji.

As he lowered himself to the floor with a contented sigh, he replied, “Oh yeah, I’ve always been an avid reader. Russian classics are probably my favorite. Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Pushkin… they’re just so good. So”—he paused for a moment, then laughed—“melodramatic, I suppose. But that’s to be expected, given Russia’s history of political and social strife. The same could be said for their music. You prefer Russian composers, right?”

Shinji recalled their first lunch together and the conversation about their most admired composers.

“Oh… you know, I didn’t even realize my favorites were all Russian, but you’re right,” he said, thinking it over. “Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, Prokofiev… I guess it’s similar to their literature. Their music is just so dramatic and sweeping.” He smiled warmly at Kaworu before continuing more timidly, “You know… I’ve never met anyone who really shared my interests like this. It’s really… nice. I’m glad we met, Kaworu.”

Kaworu returned the smile with his own soft, genial one, replying, “Honestly, I think I was born to meet you, Shinji.”

They shared a quiet moment, admiring each other in silence, until the weight of the words caused a sudden shift. Embarrassment broke the spell, and they both quickly averted their gazes.

Shinji reached for his coffee, taking a sip to ease the awkwardness.

Kaworu suddenly gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t ask how you like your coffee. I prefer it black, so I must’ve been on autopilot.”

“Black is good with me, and this is delicious!” Shinji replied, taking a larger sip. “Almost makes me want to put more effort into my morning instant coffee.”

Kaworu chuckled. “Great minds,” he said with a smile, before sipping from his own mug and opening his laptop.

And so, the next few hours passed in relative, easy silence as both men studied. Occasionally, they’d make a comment or have a short conversation here and there, but for the most part, Shinji found it surprisingly easy to study alongside Kaworu. It was a welcome change compared to studying with his roommates. Kensuke and Toji could focus for all of twenty minutes before their attention devolved into conversations about women or anime. With Kaworu, the door to conversation was always open, but it was just as comfortable to sit in silence, the only sounds being the rhythmic tapping of keys and the occasional sip of coffee.

Shinji didn’t realize how much time had passed until his stomach rumbled, prompting him to check his watch. It was already 9:00 PM.

“Hungry?” Kaworu smirked, peering over from behind his laptop.

“Sorry, I didn’t even realize it was getting so late. You probably wanted me gone an hour ago,” Shinji said, his tone apologetic.

Kaworu quirked an eyebrow at him. “Nonsense, Shinji. I enjoy your company! Besides, it seems like having someone else here has helped me stay focused too. Usually, I can only concentrate for about an hour before I get distracted. But I’d hazard a guess we’re both getting hungry. There’s a ramen place down the block we can hit up before you head home… if you’d like, that is,” he added hastily.

Shinji almost laughed. The idea of refusing dinner with Kaworu seemed comical. Did Kaworu really think he would’ve said no?

“Of course! I just finished my last bit of music history work anyway. Let’s go!”

---

The sun finally decided to show her face that Saturday. After days of nearly non-stop rain, the campus and surrounding areas seemed livelier. Students meandered about, enjoying their newfound ability to soak in the pleasant spring weather before it turned too muggy and hot. As Shinji made his way to meet his quartet at the school gate, he closed his eyes and basked in the warm early afternoon glow, as if recharging his solar energy stores.

He’d need the energy, anyway. The anxiety that had been slowly eating away at his sanity was now reaching its peak, as the hour of the gig drew nearer. After the study session at Kaworu’s on Wednesday, Shinji had spent the last two days in multi-hour quartet rehearsals. The gig was a wedding; apparently, the event’s chosen professional quartet had pulled out at the last minute. While the job was paying well, the idea that they were supposed to substitute for seasoned, professional musicians only worsened the knot that had been growing in Shinji’s stomach all week.

He tried to push the looming anxiety down, choosing to focus on just getting to the venue, at least. He didn’t have to wait long at the school gates before the other three quartet members showed up to commute to the job together. Asuka had been adamant, after they received their first gig, that they commute as a group to always ensure they arrived together.

“That’s how you get returning customers,” she had winked playfully.

With all quartet members present, Asuka took on the role of leader, as usual, and began herding everyone toward the station.

“The venue’s close—only a few train stops this time. I believe it’s in a hotel,” she said as they walked. Shinji was hardly paying attention. Trying to calm his nerves, he turned to Rei.

“So, how was your recital the other week?” he asked.

“It went well. You?”

She’d been getting better at conversing over the last few weeks. I wonder if that’s partially thanks to me, he thought hopefully.

“It was… a mess if I’m being honest.”

“A mess was an understatement,” Asuka interrupted with a gruff laugh, “You better get over that performance anxiety real quick, Wunderkind.”

Shinji huffed in frustration, what did she know?

“Thanks for the input, but I wasn’t talking to you,” Shinji spat back.

Asuka whirled on him, causing everyone else to stop in their tracks.

“I’m not just saying that just to be rude, stupid. Your actions don’t just affect you, if you freeze up while we’re at a paying job, that’s going to make all of us look bad, as well as the school. So,” she jabbed a finger roughly into his chest, “Get. It. Together.”

She turned back and continued walking toward the station. Rei and Mari hesitated for a moment before following, wordlessly. Shinji clenched his fists, swallowing the anger rising in him… because she was right. He couldn’t afford to freeze up like that again. God, I’m so pathetic, he thought, the anger quickly dissolving into despair. All he seemed to do was inconvenience people and focus on himself. I didn’t even consider how another panic attack would affect the group.

He forced himself to start walking again. I can control myself. I’ll prove it to her.

They arrived at the wedding venue—an expansive, Western-style hotel—an hour before the ceremony. The first part of the job would involve accompanying the ceremony, which was being held in a garden area on the property. Then, after a short break, they would play the first half of the reception in a grand ballroom. Overall, it was clear the couple was quite affluent; the venue was truly breathtaking. Shinji swallowed thickly as he recalled that they were substituting for a professional quartet. Somehow, this felt even higher stakes than his recital.

Asuka phoned the wedding coordinator to meet them in the hotel lobby. A few minutes later, a busy-looking middle-aged woman in a black pantsuit quickly approached them.

“You the Kunitachi kids?” she asked briskly.

“Yes ma’am, thank you very mu—” Asuka began, but she was immediately cut off by the woman.

"Yes, yes, come on. Let me show you to where you’ll be playing. I have a million places to be today, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to get you set up as quickly as I can."

Asuka nodded, but as the woman turned to lead them to the garden, she scowled. She wasn’t the type of person who took orders easily. Shinji smirked at her discomfort.

The garden area was beautiful, and though spring was beginning to wane, the flowers were still in full bloom. Shinji inhaled the fresh scent deeply. After the last few days of rain, the mix of flowers and freshly watered earth beneath his feet was incredibly pleasant. The couple had certainly lucked out with the weather; today was a perfect day for a wedding.

The coordinator led them to a clearing that seemed specifically designed for garden events. Rows of white, foldable chairs faced a large gazebo, surrounded by tall rose bushes and adorned with white ribbons. The coordinator pointed to a small platform in the grass to the right of the gazebo.

“Set up there. Start playing when the guests begin to arrive. When you hear the clock strike the hour, that’s when the ceremony will begin. I’ll come direct you to the reception afterward,” she said briskly, before turning and hurriedly making her way back to the hotel without another word.

Her abrupt departure left them all feeling breathless. Shinji nudged Rei playfully.

“I don’t think ‘wedding coordinator’ is in the cards for me if music doesn’t work out,” he chuckled.

Rei looked at him, surprised, then blushed and laughed softly. Shinji smiled warmly in response.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Asuka interjected gruffly. Clearly, she was still irritated by the coordinator’s dismissive attitude.

She shot Shinji a venomous look as they began setting up. "Shinji. Don’t mess this up, you hear?" she said, warily, as they all took their seats.

He huffed, "I won’t. Just because I had one issue in the recital doesn’t mean every time I perform will be a disaster, you know!"

It was a half-truth. The familiar itch to run—the urge to escape the looming stress of performing—was starting to rise in him. Kensuke had said he’d get used to public performances, and Misato had insisted that, with enough exposure therapy, he wouldn’t even break a sweat on stage. But would he really ever get comfortable with this?

He wondered if Asuka believed he could handle it. She hadn’t kicked him out of the group yet, but it felt like only a matter of time. Suddenly, he was pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle touch on his knee. Rei’s dark eyes were focused on him, intense and steady.

“You’re… a great cellist,” she said awkwardly. “I believe you can do this.”

Was this her attempt at calming him down? Shinji smiled at her, grateful for the effort.

"Thanks, Rei."

"Yo, time to start," Mari cut in, noticing the first guests beginning to file into the garden. The quartet opened their music folders to Mendelssohn’s String Quartet No. 2 and began to play.

As the four musicians began their commute back to the train station, Shinji received a text.

Kaworu: Hey, how’d the job go?

He smiled. Kaworu seemed to have a sixth sense about knowing exactly when to text him. As Shinji was about to reply, he paused, a wild thought suddenly rushing into his mind. Kaworu’s apartment is only one more stop away. What if… what if I surprised him? The idea stirred a spark of excitement in him.

He wanted to tell Kaworu how well the job had gone, how proud he felt of himself. Despite the extra pressures—the tension of meeting his father, Asuka’s warnings, and the high stakes of the wedding event itself—he hadn’t crumbled. He hadn’t run away.

When they all arrived at the station, Shinji made up his mind. He was going to surprise Kaworu. And more than that, he was going to grab ingredients to make his friend curry. The idea thrilled him, but, as always, that excitement was tinged with fear. What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he’s not home? What if he’s busy? The doubts crept in, but he pushed them aside, determined to follow through. Kaworu only lived fifteen minutes from the dorms, and Shinji was already basically in his neighborhood. If he was busy Shinji could just go home.

“Um, so,” Shinji started, halting as the other quartet members stopped and turned to him while making their way to the train platform. “I’m actually going to visit a friend. So I’ll see you all at our next rehearsal.”

They all smiled and nodded, even Asuka. Clearly, she’d been satisfied with his performance today.

“Have a good night, Shinji,” Rei said quietly, before turning to head toward the platform with the other women.

One quick train ride later, Shinji found himself roaming the aisles of the small grocery store on Kaworu’s street. As far as he knew, Kaworu didn’t have any food allergies, so he decided on beef and potato curry—quick, easy, and something he could feel good about making. It was early evening, and while he hoped Kaworu hadn’t eaten yet, doubt, again, crept in as he checked out with his haul.

Will he like it? Will he even be home? The questions repeated in Shinji's mind as he walked the few blocks to Kaworu’s building. The neighborhood was calm, with children’s voices mingling with the soft rustling of young leaves in the trees as he passed the park that Kaworu’s building faced. He felt a familiar knot begin to settle in his gut. Was this a mistake?

Ascending to the third floor, he suddenly felt a pang of paranoid anxiety. This is Kaworu’s apartment complex, right?! What if I’m at the wrong building and about to knock on a stranger’s door?

No, this was definitely Kaworu’s building. The nameplate on apartment 306 read “Nagisa.” Shinji sighed exasperatedly at his overactive brain. After a moment of hesitation, he knocked on the door.

A few seconds passed. Then a minute. Should I knock again? Is he not home?

Shinji waited a few more seconds before pressing his ear close to the door. Silence.

“Kaworu?” Shinji finally tried, his voice barely above a whisper.

After a few more silent seconds, he turned away in embarrassment. This is stupid; Kaworu either isn’t home or doesn’t want to see me. His heart sank. Why did I think it was a good idea to drop in unannounced?! Could I have been any ruder? Of course he wouldn’t want a random guest on a Saturday night! Anger at himself bubbled up, as he turned to leave.

He took a few steps toward the stairs, when the door suddenly burst open with a violent swing. Shinji whirled in surprise, his heart leaping into his throat, only to find a panting, wide-eyed Kaworu staring back at him.

“Wait! Wait—gasp—sorry,” Kaworu said, taking a steadying breath. “I wasn’t expecting company, but please, come in, Shinji!” He gave a wide, warm smile, his earlier shock quickly fading into his usual calm demeanor.

Shinji raised an eyebrow at the greeting. Why is he out of breath? Why did it take him so long to get the door? Shinji wondered absently as he stepped into the apartment.

“Are you sure it’s okay? I should’ve at least texted you… I thought it would be fun to surprise you, but…” Shinji sighed, awkwardly continuing, “I’m, uh, not exactly an expert on what’s appropriate between friends.”

“Absolutely, it’s fine. I’m really happy you stopped by. It was certainly a surprise!” Kaworu laughed. “And what’s that you brought?”

“Oh,” Shinji felt the color rise in his cheeks. Now that he was here, it seemed a little… strange to cook for another man, like something a couple would do.

“I… I thought it would be nice to cook some curry for you. Sorry, it was stupid,” Shinji muttered, his gaze darting away from Kaworu’s eyes.

“Oh my gosh, are you serious?!” Kaworu exclaimed, and Shinji braced himself for the inevitable teasing about how he was acting like a girl.

“That’s awesome! I’m a crap cook, too. I basically live on 7/11 if I’m being honest,” Kaworu laughed, and Shinji met his eyes with a surprised look.

“Are you sure?” was all he managed to say.

“Why would I turn down free food, especially from my favorite person?” Kaworu smiled warmly before seemingly realizing what he'd just said. He hastily turned to enter the main room of the apartment.

Shinji removed his shoes in a daze, his mind swirling with confusion. Favorite person? Me? What the heck did Kaworu mean by that? They’d grown close, but surely Kaworu didn’t like Shinji that much. No one did. A tight feeling crept into Shinji’s chest, and a familiar thought bubbled up to the surface of his mind. He wants something, Shinji thought, a sickening feeling settling deep in his stomach.

That had to be it. Everyone always wanted something from Shinji. No one ever just enjoyed his company—at least, not to this extent. Swallowing his trepidation, he entered the apartment. Even if Kaworu did want something from him, Shinji couldn’t deny that Kaworu was probably his favorite person. Even if this relationship was likely transactional for Kaworu, Shinji figured he could at least enjoy it while it lasted, right?

Kaworu was sitting awkwardly on his bed. “I, um, I sort of tried to clean up after I saw you at the door. That’s why I took a minute,” he laughed nervously. “Sorry about the mess though.”

While the apartment was slightly more disheveled than when Shinji had visited a few days ago, it was still just as cozy. The familiar smell of paper and lavender wrapped around him like the embrace of an old friend. Shinji set the groceries on the tiny counter in the kitchenette, deciding to dive right into prepping. It would help distract him from the dark thoughts about Kaworu’s possible ulterior motives swirling in his mind.

“So, how can I help?” Kaworu asked, coming to stand next to Shinji as he unpacked the groceries. Was it just him, or did it seem like Kaworu had gotten into the habit of standing closer to Shinji lately? He could practically feel the warmth radiating from his friend’s body.

The kitchenette was far too small for two people to cook together comfortably, and Shinji’s head was already spinning with a mix of self-doubt and the sudden, acute embarrassment of being so close to Kaworu. After a long, tense pause, he spoke.

“Will you… play for me, as I cook?”

He didn’t turn to look at Kaworu, but he could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, “Absolutely. Actually, since you came directly from the gig and have your cello with you… you should play for me after we eat!”

Shinji turned to him with a timid smile. “Okay.”

As they finished their curry, Kaworu leaned back contentedly, putting his hands on the floor behind him.

“You, Shinji Ikari, are a great cook,” he said with a satisfied sigh.

Shinji snorted. “Considering you live off instant food, I’m not sure that’s much of a compliment.”

Kaworu laughed, and then the conversation trailed off into a comfortable silence. The dinner had been relaxing. Shinji told Kaworu about the gig, how he’d managed to perform well despite the mounting stress, and Kaworu never seemed to run out of questions. Once again, Shinji realized he had spent the whole meal talking about himself. He picked at his cuticles, feeling a bit guilty, and hesitated with a question he’d been wanting to ask for days. Now was as good a time as any, right?

“Kaworu, um…” he swallowed, trying to steady his voice. “Is everything okay… with your mom, I mean? It’s just… there’ve been a few times recently… on the phone,” he trailed off, glancing at Kaworu timidly.

Kaworu’s demeanor shifted immediately. He sat up, his relaxed posture replaced by a subtle guardedness. His face stayed calm, but Shinji could tell the tension had crept in.

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Kaworu flashed a tight smile, and Shinji’s throat tightened.

He knew bringing this up now might ruin the mood, but he’d promised himself he would try. Why? Why wouldn’t Kaworu talk to him? He’d called Shinji his favorite person an hour ago, but now, it felt like they were back to being strangers, or maybe just acquaintances again.

“Will you play for me?” Kaworu asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Kaworu,” Shinji interjected, his eyes fixed on his lap. “I… you’ve helped me so much with my problems. If there’s some way I can do the same… please?”

“It’s fine,” Kaworu said coldly, then quickly added, “Sorry, that came out harsher than I meant. But it’s really okay, Shinji. Just some bickering between family.”

Shinji had a feeling it was more than just bickering, but clearly, there was no getting through to Kaworu. He sighed inwardly, mentally calling today’s attempt at getting answers a bust. Still, he forced a smile and looked up.

“Okay, I understand...” he paused, before continuing, “So, have you heard Bach’s Cello Suites before?”

Kaworu’s face shifted from strained to a relaxed smile. “Only a bit here and there.”

Shinji rose from the table to retrieve his cello, which he had left propped by the front door, and began to settle at Kaworu’s piano bench.

“The suites are classics for cellists,” Shinji said, as he took the cello out of its case. “I think a lot of people find them boring, but I love them all the same. I usually warm up with a suite or two when I practice.”

As he spoke, Kaworu’s eyes never left him, sparkling with a quiet intensity, hanging on every word Shinji said. There was something almost reverent in the way Kaworu looked at him. Shinji felt the familiar warmth of embarrassment rise in his cheeks, the weight of Kaworu’s gaze making him feel both exposed and oddly flattered. Could he really play in front of just Kaworu alone? The thought made him nervous, but there was also a part of him that couldn’t resist the pull of that attention.

He rosined his bow and glanced at Kaworu. The pianist was staring at him with such aching anticipation that it almost made Shinji’s heart skip a beat. Without another word, Shinji brought his bow to the strings and began to play.

At first, he felt a little uncomfortable—unsure if he could let the music flow freely with Kaworu watching so intently. But as the familiar strains of Bach’s suites filled the room, he soon found his rhythm. The music moved fluidly, rolling like waves, from soft and gentle to loud and passionate. The prelude set the tone, elegant yet deeply expressive, and Shinji’s face mirrored that passion as he closed his eyes, letting the music take over. His body swayed slightly with the rhythm, each movement of the bow a conversation between himself and the cello.

When he struck the final chord, the room fell into deep silence. Shinji lingered for a moment, savoring the stillness that followed, before looking up at Kaworu.

The pianist’s eyes were closed, and a soft, almost imperceptible smile lingered on his lips. It was a smile that seemed to say everything Shinji needed to hear, even without words.

“Beautiful,” Kaworu whispered, his voice soft with admiration. Then, opening his eyes, he repeated louder, “That was beautiful, Shinji. You’re an incredible cellist.”

So people keep telling me, Shinji thought bitterly. If only he could believe them. But still, he smiled at Kaworu, feeling the warmth of the compliment settle in, even if it didn’t quite reach his heart. He began packing his instrument back into its case, his fingers moving mechanically as he tried to ignore the tension in the room.

“Wait, that’s it?” Kaworu asked, his voice almost tinged with annoyance.

Shinji smirked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s it. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll bring my cello again next time.”

Kaworu’s gaze shifted to his lap, and his voice lowered, almost shy, “Promise?”

Shinji paused, surprised by the quiet intensity in Kaworu’s words. The pianist was looking at the floor, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink. For a moment, Shinji hesitated, unsure of what to make of this sudden shift in Kaworu’s demeanor.

“Promise you’ll come back to study together, and play for me?” Kaworu added, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

Shinji smiled, a little unsure of himself but genuine nonetheless. He nodded. “I promise.”

Though part of him still couldn’t shake the feeling that this friendship was more complicated than it seemed, and that Kaworu was working toward something, Shinji figured he could enjoy it while it lasted. For now, it was nice to have someone who cared, even if it was fleeting.

Chapter Text

The next month passed in a stressful blur for Shinji. His first Philharmonic and Ensemble performances came and went. He managed to scrape through midterms, and his quartet played three more gigs. Overall, he was actually proud of himself for once, and that newfound confidence was largely thanks to Kaworu.

After Shinji's surprise visit the previous month, he made a point of visiting Kaworu every Friday evening for study sessions. Kaworu had begged him to cook whenever he came over. “Of course, if it’s not too much trouble... but I’d give my right hand to taste your cooking again,” he had laughed. Shinji couldn't imagine a world in which Kaworu couldn't play piano for him—not that he would’ve refused anyway—so he happily agreed.

And so, every Friday, Shinji would arrive at his friend’s apartment with groceries in hand—except for the few times Kaworu had insisted they shop together, so he could pay— like a ritual. Whenever they did visit the grocer together, Shinji always had the sneaking feeling they looked less like classmates, or roommates, and more like a couple. Kaworu would stand close to him, reading the list of ingredients in Shinji’s hands, and look over with a smile before moving away to get the next item. He would walk so close to Shinji that, occasionally, the backs of their hands would brush one another. When the groceries in the basket Shinji held in the crook of his arm seemingly became too heavy, Kaworu would wordlessly pull it from his friend’s arms and assume the burden himself.

Does he not notice? Is this normal behavior for him? Shinji wondered, feeling self-conscious of potential judgmental stares from other shoppers as they checked out. Kaworu wasn’t foreign—he was Japanese—and this level of physical contact was usually reserved for people much closer than just friends. Plus, this was Kaworu’s neighborhood; the people shopping here probably knew him, at least by sight, especially given his distinctive appearance. Wasn’t he worried they might get the wrong idea?

If Kaworu was worried, though, he didn’t show it. In fact, he seemed to be floating on cloud nine every time he opened the door to greet Shinji on those fateful evenings. Each time, his face would break into a painfully wide smile that made Shinji’s stomach flip. Shinji had also realized that, by far, this was the thing he looked forward to most after his weeks of near-hell.

And hell, they certainly had been. While Shinji was proud of his performance over the past month, he couldn’t deny the exhaustion that weighed heavily on his shoulders. Hours of daily practice—both for the quartet and his personal work—left him drained by evening. Somehow, he still mustered the energy to study before bed, mostly thanks to a lot of caffeine and the occasional encouraging text messages from Kaworu throughout the week. It seemed they had developed an unspoken bond of being each other’s cheerleaders; Shinji refused to let all that effort go to waste by failing his midterms.

How he’d managed to survive both midterms and multiple performances was beyond him. While performing in ensembles, like the Philharmonic and his chamber class, was easier than playing either solo or with the quartet, it was still plenty stressful. Thankfully, Hikari was his stand partner in both classes, and for that, he felt eternally grateful.

Being a senior, she was more than experienced in performing at Kunitachi, and she worked hard to ensure Shinji felt both comfortable and confident. She was truly the ideal partner. Whenever Shinji struggled with bow markings in the cello section of the Philharmonic, she’d gently offer suggestions. And whenever he lost his place in a piece, she never judged him—instead, she would simply point to the spot in the sheet music with her bow, guiding him to the part of the piece the rest of the orchestra was now playing. Shinji was acutely aware that if he had been paired with a less understanding stand partner, his semester could have gone much differently—and worse. He tried not to dwell on the fact that Hikari would be graduating at the end of the year, though.

Similar to his relatively successful Philharmonic and chamber ensemble performances, he hadn’t been kicked out of his quartet by some miracle. Though the performances were hardly becoming easier, he still hadn’t broken down in gasping, visceral panic—yet, anyway.

Overall, he’d scraped through the middle of the semester in relatively good shape. But now, as he sat in Misato’s perpetually messy office, the subject he had been dreading for weeks was finally here.

“So, Shinji, it seems like you’ve really grabbed the bull by the horns, so to speak. You’ve been doing so well since your first recital, and I’m proud of you!” She flashed him a cheerful smile before continuing, “Unfortunately, you probably know what I’m going to talk about next… we need to start prepping for your second recital.”

Shinji grimaced. Just when it felt like he had found his footing, Misato was pulling the rug out from under him.

“I know, I know, trust me, it’s my least favorite part of the semester too,” she sighed, clearly exasperated. “But we’ve got to do it, okay? So, I was thinking a piece with piano accompaniment would be a good choice. It adds another layer of challenge—having to work with a pianist and lead them. How do you feel about that?”

Shinji paled. Did his second recital really need another layer of challenge? Just walking on stage already felt like climbing Mt. Fuji. Adding an accompanist would be like trying to climb it while carrying a 50kg sack of rice on his back.

Seemingly sensing his apprehension, Misato gently said, “I understand I’m already adding to what’s sure to be a terrifying task for you, but I believe you can do it, Shinji! If you nail this recital, it’ll cement you as a powerhouse next semester—and as a freshman, no less!” She paused, as if considering her words carefully.

“Typically, students are responsible for finding their own accompanist—whether it’s a faculty member, another student, or a professional outside the school—but,” she hesitated, her face twisting with thought, “Well... I’m good friends with the head of the piano department, Dr. Ritsuko Akagi. I can ask her to accompany you, if you'd like. One less thing to worry about, hmm?”

Shinji considered the offer. If he could impress his father at his next recital, it might make up for the disaster of his first one. Maybe then, his father would actually be proud of him. He hated that he still cared about his father’s approval, but he’d be lying to himself if he denied it.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. “I appreciate the offer, Ms. Misato, but…” He hesitated. Would he have the time for this? Would he even want to work with me?

He swallowed his trepidation and continued, “I know a pianist that I think… I think I’d like to work with, if he has the time.”

Misato looked surprised. “Really? Well, sure, Shinji, whatever you’d like!” Then she chuckled softly. “Look at you, making friends,” she teased with a warm smile.

Shinji’s eyes darted to his lap in embarrassment.

“Well, I know you love your Russians, so I was thinking of Rachmaninoff’s Cello Sonata in G Minor, the final movement. It’s pretty challenging, and the tempo’s fast, but if you think you can handle it, I think it’d be really impressive,” Misato smiled. “Could your pianist friend handle that?”

Shinji really didn’t know. Kaworu liked Rachmaninoff—he’d even played one of the composer’s pieces for his own recital—but Shinji didn’t know what the piece Misato was suggesting sounded like. Was it challenging for pianists? He already knew the answer would be yes—Rachmaninoff’s music was notoriously difficult for pianists. And even if Kaworu could handle this piece, could he? Misato was already warning him that it would be challenging, and he hadn’t even seen the sheet music yet.

He took a deep, steadying breath. I want to trust Ms. Misato’s judgment, he told himself.

“I’m—I’m a bit scared, if I’m being honest, Ms. Misato,” he met her gaze, his expression hardening with determination. “But… I want to try. I think the pianist I have in mind could handle this piece, so let’s go ahead and start working on it today. I’ll let you know if he’ll be able to work as my accompanist at our next lesson.”

Misato smiled so wide that Shinji thought her lip might split. “Alright, Shinji. I know I already said it, but… I’m proud of you. I know you’ve had a tough start to college, but taking on challenges like this? You’re a brave kid.”

Shinji felt his cheeks grow hot. Another person calling me brave, when I’m not at all, he thought bitterly.

After a moment of silence, during which Shinji couldn’t bring himself to respond to the embarrassing—and completely incorrect—compliment, Misato rose from her desk, saying, “Alright, well let’s set up and get started, shall we?”

Shinji pushed down the rising tide of embarrassment and self-disgust and began to unpack his cello.

---

Shinji: Hey Kaworu, would you be interested in getting some boba? I have a proposition for you.

Shinji stared at the message he had just typed, contemplating for a moment before hitting backspace. Too formal, he thought. He had gotten better at starting text conversations, but he still had to go through a few drafts of the opening lines before landing on one he was happy with. He tried again.

Shinji: Hey, I want to talk to you about something, can we meet up? Maybe get boba?

That might sound too ominous. “I want to talk to you about something” usually came off like he was about to start a fight. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, before erasing the message and typing a new one.

Shinji: Hey, you have some time to meet this evening? I was thinking we could get boba, and I have some exciting news to share!

After staring at the message for a few seconds, Shinji felt satisfied enough to hit the send button. He leaned back in his desk chair with a small sigh. After returning home from Misato’s lesson, he had studied for an hour or so, then finally mustered the courage to reach out to Kaworu. He hoped he was still on campus—it was a little after 6 p.m., but Shinji knew Kaworu often used the practice rooms after classes.

Just a few minutes later, his phone buzzed with a reply.

Kaworu: Hey, I’m actually not around today unfortunately. Can we meet tomorrow? Or you can tell me Friday, though if we wait that long I’ll probably be distracted with anticipation for the rest of the week *crying laughing face*

Shinji felt a dopey smile spread across face as he read the message. Kaworu’s earnestness always made his chest feel warm and fuzzy.

Shinji: If you can meet tomorrow, that’d be great, I’ll be in quartet rehearsal until probably 7pm-ish but that’s flexible.

Kaworu: 7 works, I’ll just practice until you’re ready. Meet you outside the practice rooms building?

Shinji: Perfect, see you tomorrow!

Shinji pocketed his phone, a familiar sense of excited anticipation building as he thought about seeing Kaworu. With a soft smile, he returned to his studying.

The next evening, as quartet practice came to a close and everyone exchanged their goodnights, Shinji left the practice room with Rei by his side. Since they had started holding regular rehearsals, Shinji and Rei had developed a habit of walking back to the dorms together, as both Asuka and Mari commuted to campus in Asuka's car. Shinji figured it was more common to learn to drive in Europe than in Japan, but it still seemed really bizarre that Asuka drove to school. When Asuka told him how she commuted, he must’ve looked at her like she had a third ear, because she’d promptly shoved his shoulder, saying, “Don’t look at me like that, stupid!”

However, Shinji had come to see Asuka and Mari not living on campus as a blessing in disguise. It meant he could enjoy quiet walks with Rei in the evenings. He genuinely enjoyed her company. There was a calm about Rei that reminded him of Kaworu. While Asuka and Mari had dismissed Rei as some sort of stand-offish robot person, Shinji sensed there was much more beneath the surface. He felt they shared something in common—both had a desire to reach out to others, but uncertain how to do so.

So, after rehearsal, they would walk together. Sometimes their conversations followed their usual awkward, halting rhythm, with Rei speaking in her quiet, measured way. Other times, they simply listened to the breeze rustling the trees and the distant rumble of passing trains. Tonight, as they stepped out of the practice hall into the warm, early June air, they were quietly discussing the piece they had worked on that day.

 “Yes, this Brahms quartet is rather famous for violists. The repertoire is… fun,” Rei said in her soft monotone.

Shinji smiled, “Yeah, I thought you were sounding really good tonight! Violas are like, the most underappreciated instrument,” he laughed. Her cheeks turned slightly pink before she also laughed quietly.

“We do seem to be the running joke of most ensembles we’re in, I’ll admit.”

Suddenly Shinji noticed a figure, across the courtyard they were crossing. Nearly hidden under the darkening light of the evening, Shinji would’ve missed him, if it wasn’t for his pale complexion catching the light of the streetlamps. Shinji glanced at his watch, suddenly remembering his plans for the evening. His conversation with Rei had driven all other thoughts from his mind. Luckily, it was only a few minutes after 7.

Shinji gently touched Rei’s elbow, noticing that she hadn’t realized he had stopped walking. She turned to look at him, her expression questioning.

"Sorry, Rei, I forgot I’m meeting a friend this evening. He’s over there," Shinji said, pointing toward the figure he assumed was Kaworu.

"Ah, I see. Well then, I’ll see you later. Good night," Rei replied with a small smile. But as she began to turn and walk away, Shinji suddenly spoke again.

"Actually, uh, do you… want to meet him? I think you two would really get along," he added, grinning widely.

It occurred to him that Rei probably didn’t have many, if any, friends. Neither did Kaworu. Maybe they’ll hit it off! He thought excitedly. He’d never been the one to introduce two people he knew to each other before. He felt almost like a matchmaker as, without thinking, he grabbed Rei’s wrist and gently pulled her toward Kaworu.

She didn’t say anything, either in protest or acceptance, but simply followed him quietly, her expression still full of questions.

As they drew closer to Kaworu, the fading light gave Shinji a clearer view of his friend’s face, and he saw an expression he’d never seen before—at least not when Kaworu was looking at him. Annoyance, he thought, feeling a knot form in his stomach.

Shinji’s mind raced, a ball of anxiety rising in his throat. Is it because I’m late? It is after 7… Kaworu had never seemed to mind waiting for him before, but maybe tonight was different. Maybe Kaworu had other plans or something had come up.

Shinji swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very foolish. Kaworu was clearly irritated about being kept waiting, and here Shinji was, dragging along a girl Kaworu had never met, without even checking if Rei wanted to meet him in the first place. Now, he stood between the two of them, feeling incredibly small and awkward.

"Uh, sorry, Kaworu. I-I didn’t mean to keep you waiting," Shinji started timidly, his gaze fixed on his shoes. "I wanted to introduce my friend. She’s the violist in my quartet—Rei Ayanami."

Silence. Neither Kaworu nor Rei said anything to each other.

Shinji swallowed thickly, the silence stretching on uncomfortably before he spoke again. "Ah, Rei, this is Kaworu Nagisa. He’s a second-year pianist."

"Oh, Nagisa. You’re in my Aural Training class, I believe?" Rei finally spoke up, breaking the tension. Shinji let out a silent sigh of relief—he had completely forgotten they were both second years.

"Yes, I recognized your blue hair," Kaworu replied curtly. Shinji's stomach sank. He must be really pissed.

More silence followed. Shinji desperately willed the concrete under his feet to swallow him whole. He had no idea what to say next. Invite Rei to get boba with them? Terrible idea. Try to start a conversation? No, Kaworu was clearly not in the mood for talking.

Finally, Shinji resigned himself to the only thing he could think of: abandon this futile matchmaking effort.

"Well, a-anyway, I just thought you two would like to meet. I don’t want to keep either of you, so… I’ll see you at Friday’s rehearsal, Rei."

She bowed her head to Kaworu solemnly, flashed Shinji one of her rare smiles, and walked away without another word.

Shinji watched her go, unable to meet Kaworu's cold gaze. After a moment, though, the silence became unbearable.

"Well, want to head to the boba shop? Unless your—"

Kaworu cut him off, his voice unusually tense. "You’re close? You and Rei?"

Shinji turned to him, confusion clear on his face. "Uh, I mean, she’s in my quartet. We’ve become friends over the semester, but she’s definitely a hard book to open," he added with a nervous chuckle.

"Do you like her?"

Shinji flinched, anxiety and confusion swirling into a storm of fear in his gut. Kaworu wouldn’t look at him, instead staring off blankly towards the practice hall. What’s up with him? Why is he asking these weird questions? Shinji wondered, growing increasingly panicked. Does Kaworu not like Rei? It seemed like they hadn’t even spoken before. Or is he just angry about me being late? It felt strange that Kaworu would be fixated on Rei if that were the case...

Shinji tried to mask the concern in his voice as he replied, "Well, yeah, of course! She’s the second friend I’ve ever made, besides you, I mean," he added with a nervous laugh. "Well, there’s also Kensuke and Toji, but I’m not counting roommates here."

Suddenly, the mood shifted. Kaworu looked down at his feet, his expression changing from anger to something much more forlorn.

"Right, friend..." he murmured.

Once again, Shinji’s mind swirled with confused panic. He’s sad now?! What’s wrong with me??

Before Shinji had a chance to try and fix the mood, Kaworu saved him from potential embarrassment by snapping his gaze up to meet Shinji’s, flashing his usual smile.

"Sorry, that was really rude of me. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl. Did you want to head to the boba shop now?"

Without waiting for a reply, Kaworu turned to leave, leaving Shinji standing dumbstruck, mind reeling in confusion. After a moment, he absentmindedly fell into step beside Kaworu, thinking, What just happened??

Chapter Text

“Accompanist?” Kaworu asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Both he and Shinji sat facing each other in the quiet boba tea shop, the soft lofi music playing overhead and the occasional bustle of staff preparing drinks filling the air.

"I mean, only if you have the time, of course! Ms. Misato said she could probably get Dr. Akagi to work with me, but I figured..." Shinji trailed off, realizing he didn’t have a logical reason for wanting Kaworu to accompany him, aside from the fact that it was just another reason to see his friend. "I guess I figured you might be easier to work with," he finished.

Kaworu looked at him skeptically and said, "Dr. Akagi is a wonderful professor. She’d do a better job than I ever could, I’m certain. Of course..." He paused, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Unless you just wanted an excuse to see me more."

Shinji balked at how effortlessly Kaworu had read his true intentions. The look of shock and embarrassment must have been obvious, because Kaworu suddenly burst into laughter.

“D-Don’t laugh at me! Just forget it, okay?” Shinji blurted out hastily, his ears burning with embarrassment.

After a moment, Kaworu regained control of his laughter, offering a reassuring smile. “Sorry, Shinji. I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s just... you can be honest with me, you know? I—I like hanging out with you too,” he finished, his smile softening into something shy.

Shinji felt the closer he got to Kaworu, the more the pianist confused him. Not thirty minutes ago he’d been strangely cold and distant toward Rei, when Shinji had tried to introduce the two. As they had walked towards the boba shop, Shinji had tried to inquire about what Kaworu was upset about. He’d apologized again, for being late, but Kaworu had brushed it off, insisting he wasn’t angry.

When Shinji had asked if Kaworu and Rei shared any history, Kaworu had replied that they had never formally met before. So what on earth had he been upset about? The question spun in Shinji’s mind throughout the entire walk to the boba shop. By the time they had arrived, he’d given up trying to figure it out. It was just another one of the many enigmas Kaworu presented to him, one he couldn’t solve.

Now, Kaworu was telling him to be honest, and Shinji felt a sudden flash of anger toward his friend. Honest with Kaworu? That was the pot calling the kettle black, if Shinji had ever seen it. If he wants my honesty, why won’t Kaworu do the same for me? He wanted to ask, to confront him in the way Kaworu could be so direct with him. But if he brought it up, how would Kaworu react? Would he reject me? The thought of losing this friendship terrified Shinji. It meant too much to him now.

Shinji bit back the anger rising inside him and instead said, “Fine, I wanted an excuse to see you more, okay?! And, yes, I genuinely thought we’d work well together. But if you don’t have the time or energy to take on the extra responsibility, just say so. I’ll understand,” he finished with a gentle smile.

“I’ll do it,” Kaworu replied matter-of-factly.

Shinji blinked, caught off guard. “Do you want to check your calendar, or take a few days to think about it, or… anything?”

“Nope. I can do it!” Kaworu stated, simply.

Shinji couldn’t help but giggle at his friend’s unwavering confidence. “Well, alright then. Do you want to hear what we’ll even be playing?”

“Oh… yeah, that’d be a good starting point,” Kaworu said, and they both laughed at that.

After explaining the repertoire, and sending Kaworu the recording Shinji had found of the piece that he liked best, they stood to leave, waving good night to the shop staff.

---

Misato hadn't been exaggerating about the difficulty of his recital repertoire, as Shinji quickly discovered. Over the next week, as he began to incorporate the Rachmaninoff into his practice sessions, a heavy sense of dread settled over him. The confidence he had built over the semester began to waver, and doubt gnawed at his fingers as they danced up and down the neck of his cello, with each practice session.

He wouldn't start practicing with Kaworu until they both felt more comfortable with the music, but from the texts Kaworu had sent, it was clear that the pianist was also struggling with the piece. Shinji offered multiple times for Kaworu to step down as his accompanist, but the pianist refused each time with unwavering determination. Can we do this? Shinji began to ask himself.

As if the universe sensed his struggle—more than usual at least—the text chat with his quartet members lit up one Thursday evening, as Shinji sat alone in a practice room.

Asuka: Guten Abend, all! I just received an email for a quartet gig tomorrow night. This is an interesting one— an after-hours art museum event. It will be our first job where we probably won’t be able to meet up for a practice session beforehand, I know. But we’ll do great, have faith (Shinji)!! So, can I get thumbs up for availability please?

Shinji stared at his phone, wary, surprised the message had even come through in the concrete room. He was already stretched thin, and Friday was his study day with Kaworu. He hesitated. If he said he couldn’t do it, Asuka would probably call him and chew him out until he changed his mind—she knew well enough that he didn’t have anything else going on. But if he agreed... he wouldn’t be able to see Kaworu, and he'd also be worried about the lack of a prior rehearsal. They’d be performing repertoire they’d been working on for the past couple of months, sure, but that didn’t mean he didn’t value the rehearsals they could get in before a performance.

After a few moments of internal debate, he reluctantly tapped out a response confirming his availability, then opened the chat with Kaworu. Immediately, he regretted his decision. The text to Kaworu was far more difficult to write, and the guilt of canceling their plans for the first time gnawed at his stomach. Rationally, Shinji knew Kaworu would understand. He was giving plenty of notice, and it was a paying gig—not Shinji blowing him off on a whim. Still, anxious thoughts slithered through the grooves and valleys of his mind like worms, burrowing deep into his consciousness.

He’s going to hate you for this. He’s never going to invite you over again. He’s going to stop talking to you.

Shinji did his best to ignore the anxious thoughts swirling in his mind as he began to type, slowly, overthinking every word as he went.

Shinji: Hey, really sorry to do this, but it looks like I have a gig tomorrow evening. Can we reschedule our study session for this weekend? Again, really sorry, I hope you understand!

Before he could rewrite the message five more times, he pressed send and quickly pocketed the phone with a heavy sigh. That tone was probably too apologetic, and he could already hear Kaworu’s gentle voice in his head, saying, “Shinji, you don’t have to apologize for everything you do.” Easy for him to say. Shinji’s whole life had felt like one long apology, and he would rather come off as over-apologetic than under.

After a few more deep breaths, he returned to his practice.

The next day promised more rain, typical for Tokyo in early summer, and Shinji was relieved that the evening’s gig would be indoors. However, that brief sense of relief was quickly overshadowed by a deep anxiety he hadn’t felt since his last recital. Kaworu hadn’t replied to his message from the night before, nor had he responded throughout the day.

After Shinji sent the cancellation text, he had continued practicing until he felt it was finally time to sleep. But with every passing hour since sending the message, the pit in his stomach only grew deeper. He tried to ignore the feeling as he walked back to the dorms, ate a quick dinner, and crawled into bed. He convinced himself that Kaworu simply hadn’t checked his phone yet, or maybe he had gone to bed early. However, the next morning, after waking from a restless night of sleep, he checked his phone immediately—and the pit in his stomach became a gaping sinkhole. No new messages.

Should I follow up? But what if he’s really mad? Shinji debated with himself. In the end, he decided not to pester Kaworu further. Instead, he tried to drown out his spiraling thoughts with classes, but it didn’t help. By the afternoon, as he reached the school gate where Asuka, Mari, and Rei were waiting, he was lost in an anxious fog.

It was only 4:30 p.m., the event was a cocktail hour after-work party, but the intermittent rain that had fallen throughout the day cast a gloomy shadow over their walk to the train station. Shinji didn’t even try to make conversation with Rei, and Rei seemed perfectly content walking beside him in silence.

Half an hour later, they exited the train at Roka-koen station, which had been packed with rush-hour commuters. Asuka and Mari both stretched, clearly still unaccustomed to the sardine-like conditions of a busy Tokyo train line.

“Ugh, let’s get some fresh air, please!” Mari complained loudly. Normally, Shinji and Rei would have exchanged smirks at the discomfort of the Westerners, but today, Shinji couldn’t even muster a fake smile when their eyes met.

As Asuka led them out of the station and toward the museum, Shinji could feel Rei’s gaze on the side of his face, but thankfully, she didn’t speak. Shinji was barely holding it together. The weight of Kaworu’s silence now loomed over him, magnified by the fear of the upcoming performance. During his previous jobs this month, he felt like he might bolt at any moment, if not for Kaworu’s supportive messages and, more recently, Rei’s calming presence.

However, not only was he missing the main stabilizing presence in his life today, but he was also terrified he might never get it back. As irrational as he knew it was to assume Kaworu had gotten so upset over him canceling plans that he was cutting Shinji out of his life entirely, that was exactly what it felt like. As the hours of silence dragged on, he began to believe the panicked thoughts that swirled endlessly in his mind:

I messed up.
I’ll never see him again.
He hates me.

Over and over, relentlessly.

And now, he was about to perform—without Kaworu’s support and without a rehearsal. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry as dust. He tried to grip his music folder tighter, but it nearly slipped from his clammy hands. As they reached the museum entrance, Asuka instructed them to wait while she found a staff member to guide them, and finally, Rei spoke up.

"Is everything alright?" Rei asked, her voice so quiet that Shinji almost didn’t hear her.

“F-Fine,” was all Shinji could manage, though he knew she wouldn’t believe him for a second. He must have looked like a criminal walking into a police station with how nervous he was.

"Why are you lying?"

Blunt as ever, Shinji thought wryly, amidst the panic.

Before he could even attempt to explain, Asuka returned with what appeared to be the museum curator: a tall, middle-aged man with graying hair and friendly eyes. He greeted them—though Shinji barely heard the words over the pounding of his heart—and gestured for them to follow.

Shinji had never visited a museum like this one, or many museums at all, considering he never had anyone to accompany him outside of school trips. It was a literary museum—the Setagaya Literary Museum, to be specific. The building was modest, only two stories tall, but the architecture was intriguing. The front featured a curved, all-glass facade that overlooked a tranquil Japanese-style garden. Even amid the storm of turmoil inside him, Shinji could still appreciate the peacefulness of the museum as they passed rows of books on display and entered an open event space.

A sudden thought came unbidden: I should bring Kaworu here. He quickly shook his head. He didn’t want to think about Kaworu right now, didn’t want to dwell on whether he’d ever have the chance to invite the pianist anywhere again. As they were left to set up in a corner of the event space, Shinji tried to take calming breaths, though it felt as if his windpipe was contracting more with each one.

As soon as they were all seated and the waiting for the event to begin started, Shinji felt his throat close nearly entirely. He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but at this point, all the members of the quartet were eyeing him with concern. Rei reached out and gently touched his knee.

“Shinji, what’s wro—”

Without thinking, he slapped her hand away and stood up suddenly.

“Be-be back,” he gasped, stumbling out of the event space, barely hearing Asuka’s angry protests as he left.

He needed to be alone, to calm down and ride this out. He practically bolted out of the museum doors, ignoring the strange looks he received from the staff. The warm, humid summer air did nothing to ease his breathing as he stumbled into the Japanese garden, collapsing behind a large concrete planter. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, but he could feel the dampness of the concrete seeping into the seat of his pants.

Not that he cared about his pants getting wet right now—he was too focused on gasping for air.

I can’t breathe!!

Yes, you can.

I’m dying, I’m having a heart attack!!

No, you’re not dying.

I feel like I’m about to pass out!!

It’ll pass, you’re okay.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, cradling his legs to his chest, desperately trying to rationalize his panicked thoughts, while feeling as though his body was trying to flee from itself. Had it been a minute, an hour? He couldn’t tell, but then, suddenly, he felt a hand roughly seize his forearm, attempting to pull him to his feet. Kaworu?! he thought wildly, looking up. Had the pianist somehow known he was in distress and found him, like some kind of angel?

Instead, he was met with Asuka’s disgusted stare as she tried again to drag him up. Shinji sank back into despair, pulling his arm away and clutching his knees even tighter.

 “Get. Up.” Asuka said, coldly.

Shinji didn’t reply, just focused on trying to breathe, trying not to die.

She knelt down in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, shaking roughly, “Snap out of it, idiot!”

“Let go!” Shinji suddenly burst out, batting her hands away with an arm. “Leave me alone.”

“Are you kidding me?” She asked, a quiet rage behind the words, “All you need to do is get your ass in there and perform. Why are you so pathetic?! We’re all relying on you and all you do is think about yourself!”

“Why do you care?!” Shinji yelled, his head still bowed into his chest. “Why did you even ask me to be in this quartet? All you do is yell at me…”

At least the argument was helping to distract him from his panic attack; he could feel his breathing gradually returning to normal.

A heavy silence followed, stretching on so long that Shinji began to wonder if Asuka had just gotten up and left him there, in his little ball of isolation and self-pity.

Finally, she spoke, “Do you remember the staff member I greeted at our recitals? Dr. Ryuji Kaji, he’s one of the violin professors, my tutor. So… you see,” her tone shifted from quiet rage to the more over-confident way she typically spoke, “Kaji and I got rather close last year, my father actually got him to agree to tutor me in my senior year of highschool. I even moved here early, from Germany, to finish school remotely and study with Kaji. When auditions came ‘round, Kaji told me there was a student that actually got a second audition, because he was the shitty director’s son. I thought ‘What a pathetic brat, he needed daddy’s help to just get in the door, he doesn’t deserve to be here like me’,” she paused with a sigh, and then continued.

“But then, I heard your second audition.”

Shinji looked up in surprise, “What?! How? It was staff only!”

“Yeah, no shit,” she smirked, “I managed to get Kaji to admit when your next audition was, and snuck in the back of the auditorium. I wanted to see who this little bastard was, that could apparently just get into Kunitachi without even trying, unlike me, who had worked her ass off… pretty much since birth!” She sighed again, long and annoyed, “Buuut like I said, then I saw you play. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but you were damn good. You,” she bit her lip, “Well, you might’ve even been better than me, Wunderkind. I don’t know how the HELL you pulled that off, but after that, I was determined to make sure you never outshone me. I’d use you as the standard to hold myself to. As long as I stayed on top, I would…”she trailed off, an expression passed over her face that Shinji couldn’t place.

“Anyway, now here we are, and I won’t allow you to act like a pathetic brat. Not when you have that kind of ability in you. I hate you for it, Shinji!” Again, she raised her voice in anger, “You’ve been given everything, so, don’t you dare tell me to ‘leave you alone’ because that isn’t going to happen. Now, get your ass up, get back in there, and impress me, dammit!”

She stood and offered him a hand. Shinji stared at it for a moment, dumbstruck. Somehow, Asuka had managed to calm him down! The absurdity of the situation made hysterical laughter bubble up inside him, but he quickly suppressed it, swallowing hard before reaching out to grab her hand.

---

A few hours later, Shinji found himself almost dozing on the train ride home. The rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk of the train on the tracks and the gentle rocking of the car were soothing his busy mind. His three quartet members sat beside him: Mari and Asuka quietly chatting among themselves, and Rei sitting in her usual stoic silence.

Suddenly, he was jolted awake by a buzzing in his pocket. He pulled out his phone with a confused look on his face and saw that Kensuke was calling. Hesitant, still not used to receiving calls from friends, he answered and pressed the phone to his ear.

“…Hello? Everything okay, Kensuke?”

“Shinji! Hey, sorry for the sudden call. Hope you’re not still at the job. Listen…” Kensuke paused, and Shinji’s breath caught in his throat. Did something happen? Was Toji okay?

Finally, Kensuke continued, “So that guy, Kaworu, he’s, uh… he just kinda showed up. I told him you were busy, but he said he’d wait for you to come back.”

Shinji’s stomach flipped, after nearly 24 hours without response he’d all but given up on ever seeing the pianist again. He didn’t speak, didn’t know what to say, and after a moment Kensuke continued.

“We, uh, we let him into your room if that’s okay. Do you want us to get him outta here? Figured you were friends so it was alright…” Kensuke sounded hesitant. Did Kaworu force them to let him in? Shinji suddenly wondered in a panic, imagining the usually calm and demure Kaworu banging on their apartment door and demanding entrance.

No, that was ludicrous; Kensuke and Toji had let Kaworu in because they thought he and Shinji were friends. Shinji hadn’t told them that Kaworu had been ghosting him for the last day and that he was sure Kaworu now hated him. But if he hates me… why is he waiting at the dorm? He thought, a small fire of hope kindling in the deep recesses of his chest.

“I’m almost home, should be there within the next ten minutes. It’s fine if he wants to wait in my room,” Shinji finally responded, quietly. He didn’t want his quartet members hearing and getting the wrong idea about him—having a guy waiting in his room on a Friday night.

“Ooookay man, uh, we’ll see you soon then,” Kensuke finished, sounding uncertain as he ended the call. Shinji breathed a deep sigh and tried to prep himself for the encounter.

Ten minutes later, Shinji entered his dorm, red faced and panting from maybe, possibly, running all the way home from the train station. Kensuke and Toji greeted him stiltedly from their usual seats in front of the TV. Clearly they were thrown off from the foreign presence of Kaworu, lying in wait in Shinji’s room.

Shinji nodded at his roommates quickly and, without further explanation, made his way to his bedroom. He knocked briskly—figuring it was still polite to announce his presence, even if it was his own room—before entering.

Kaworu was standing, bent over to read the titles on Shinji’s small bookshelf, a gentle smile on his face. Before Shinji could say anything, Kaworu spoke.

“Looks like you enjoy sci-fi and psychological dramas. I’ll have to give you some recommendations,” he said, straightening up with a smile and turning to face Shinji.

“Kaworu, w-why are you here? I figured you… finally had enough of my crap, I guess,” Shinji began in a quiet voice. “I’m… I’m really sorry if I angered you by canceling our study time today.”

Kaworu looked at him, confused.

“Cancelled?”

Shinji returned Kaworu’s puzzled expression with one of his own. “Yeah, I-I mean, I had hoped you’d be okay with it, but I totally get why you’d be pissed.”

Kaworu bit his lip. “I mean, yeah, I was a little frustrated… but I figured maybe something happened, or came up. So I—I wanted to drop by and make sure everything was okay. I guess I could’ve called, or texted.”

Shinji’s bewilderment deepened. “You mean, if everything at the job went fine? Honestly, it was a disaster at first, but, oddly enough, Asuka helped me get it together.” He chuckled lightly at the memory of Asuka’s tough love, the name he’d given for her treatment of him.

“Job?”

“Yeah, the gig.”

“What gig?”

Shinji started to get frustrated. Why were they talking in circles like this?

“I had a gig tonight. Didn’t you get my text yesterday?” he asked.

Kaworu pulled out his phone and checked his messages before replying, “I got no messages from you yesterday. See?” He turned his phone to face Shinji, as if he wouldn’t believe him otherwise. Indeed, the text chat hadn’t been active for a few days. Shinji also noticed, with a quick burst of embarrassment, that his name in Kaworu’s phone had a little heart emoji next to it. Weird.

Shinji then pulled out his own phone to check his text chat, only to realize something that nearly made his knees buckle. The message had failed to send! How had he not noticed the little red error exclamation mark next to the text bubble all the times he’d checked his phone over the past day?!

He barked out a laugh. What an idiot he was! He’d been worried Kaworu was avoiding him on purpose, that he wanted nothing to do with Shinji anymore, but in reality, Shinji was the one who had ghosted his friend tonight.

 “Shinji?” Kaworu asked, voice laced with concern.

Shinji tried to stifle his laughter. “Sorry, sorry, Kaworu. I texted you yesterday that I got a last-minute job with the quartet. I was in the practice rooms and… I must’ve not had enough signal to send the message!” He sighed, feeling the relief of the last 24 hours of tension melt away. “I thought you had been angry with me all day! I’m so stupid, how did I miss that the message didn’t go through?!” He slapped his hands to his cheeks, dragging them down with a long “Ugggghhhh!”

Kaworu giggled at that. “I’m glad you’re okay, at least—“

Before Kaworu could continue, Shinji had grabbed his friend’s hands in both of his without thinking, blurting out, “And I’m so, so sorry that you thought I just bailed on you tonight. I was so worried about texting you yesterday and disappointing you, but I managed to mess it up even more! I’m going to cook you the most amazing dinner next study session, I promise!” He smiled so wide he thought his face might crack.

Kaworu laughed and then went bright red, quickly pulling his hands from Shinji’s and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I know you probably want to rest after the job, I’ll get out of your hair. Want to meet up tomorrow, or Sunday, and make up for today?”

Shinji was about to agree when a thought came to him.

“Actually, Kaworu, I—uh, I have a place in mind that I think you’d really enjoy. Wanna get out of the house with me this weekend? We can study afterward, of course!”

Kaworu’s pale skin somehow turned an even darker shade of red, causing Shinji to wonder what he had said that was so embarrassing. I guess I should feel embarrassed that I touched him, and I’m inviting him to hang out, but I don’t for some reason. Am I being weird? he thought absently. He couldn’t explain why he felt so normal about—what would commonly be—way too friendly types of gestures. Maybe Asuka’s tough love had flipped a switch in him, at least for tonight.

Finally, Kaworu seemed to compose himself and met Shinji’s sparkling gaze with his gentle smile. “I’m free tomorrow afternoon. I’ll text you… and, unlike you, I’ll make sure it actually sends,” he finished with a laugh.

That managed to get Shinji to blush, finally.

Chapter Text

The early summer sun baked Shinji’s back, as he made his way towards Kaworu’s apartment building. He hated summer, and though the season was only three months, it always felt neverending. Luckily, it still wasn’t hot enough to cause him to sweat through his shirt before arriving at Kaworu’s apartment. He sighed, fanning himself with his shirt, as he walked.

Children’s laughter wafted from the playground, and, while normally Shinji would welcome the sound, all he could wonder now was how they could still play with such fervor in the heat. Approaching Kaworu’s apartment, he suddenly felt self-conscious as he looked down at his outfit; a white button-down with jeans, and white sneakers. He’d never really considered what he wore usually, but today he’d found himself wishing he had better clothes, or at least different outfits. Maybe because he and Kaworu were actually leaving the house, and to somewhere more than late night ramen.

Approaching Kaworu’s apartment door, he smoothed the front of his shirt, and knocked. Nearly immediately the pianist swung the door open, a wide grin on his face.

“Hey you,” he said gently. His white hair shone brilliantly in the afternoon glow, accentuated even more, by his all black outfit. A smile broke across Shinji’s face at the sight of him.

“So, where are we going?” Kaworu asked.

“Surprise,” Shinji replied, slyly.

Kaworu giggled, closing the door behind him, “Hmm, how intriguing! Can I try to guess?” he asked, as they began the walk to the station.

“Well, hopefully you won’t get it, but sure,” Shinji said.

“Movie?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm, park!”

“Noooope,” Shinji replied, popping the P.

“Ugh! Can I have a hint?” Kaworu asked with an exasperated laugh.

“You’ll like it, well... hopefully.”

“That’s not a hint!” Kaworu exclaimed, and Shinji laughed.

Their conversation continued in much the same way, as they neared the station, and boarded the train to their mysterious destination.

Shinji felt a ball of nervousness settle in his stomach, what if Kaworu won’t enjoy this? He shook his head, he was pretty sure the pianist would love what he had planned, and if not Kaworu probably wouldn’t be offended. They could just do something else, there was no need to be worried.

Of course, he could tell himself not to worry as many times as he wanted, but the irrational anxious thoughts were always ever-present.

“Roka-koen station?” Kaworu asked, quirking an eyebrow as they exited the train fifteen minutes later. Thankfully, Kaworu gave up guessing once they boarded the train, and their conversation had turned to the impending summer break. Shinji learnt Kaworu would mostly stay with his mother in Yokohama, about an hour from Kunitachi.

He bit back the further questions about that subject. Why was he staying with his mother when he had his own apartment? What was their relationship like? Was it always as tense as it seemed to be whenever they spoke?

However, he held his tongue, and instead just nodded with a smile. When Kaworu inquired about Shinji’s summer break plans, he realized he had no idea what he would be doing. He would’ve stayed in the dorms, but they closed for the longer breaks. There was no way he’d go to live with his father obviously, but who else was there? He’d instead just smiled and said he wasn’t sure yet, but probably would stay close to the school. Kaworu had given him a questioning look, possibly understanding some of Shinji’s dilemma, but choosing not to press the subject.

A few minutes of walking later, they arrive at Shinji’s secret location. Kaworu’s face lights up with an excited smile upon reading the plaque on the front of the building: Setagaya Literary Museum.

“No way! I’ve been wanting to visit here since I started at Kunitachi!” He exclaimed, turning to Shinji with an excited grin, his eyes sparkling.

Shinji chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, shyly, “Yeah, the gig we had last night actually was at this museum. It seemed right up your alley.”

“Well come on, let’s go!” Kaworu said happily, as he grabbed Shinji’s wrist and led him briskly toward the entrance. The trees of the garden gently rustled in the warm afternoon breeze, and Shinji made a mental note to explore the area before the end of their excursion.

Entering the building they approached the front desk only for Shinji to be greeted with a cheerful, “Ah it’s you! From last night--the cellist, correct?”

Behind the desk sat the bespectacled museum curator that had greeted Shinji’s quartet the day before.

“O-Oh, yessir. How are you this afternoon?” Shinji replied stiltedly. He might’ve just been here yesterday, but he wasn’t expecting to be recognized.

“I’m good, thank you. May I say, you were absolutely lovely last night! We’ve had a few Kunitachi quartets perform over the years and yours might’ve been my favorite,” the curator replied, winking, “Glad everything went okay after you ran out. Was everything okay? You looked like you were about to be sick!”

“Oh...yeah, uh,  I was fine,” Shinji said, feeling the color rise in his cheeks. He could see Kaworu’s concerned look in his periphery, but chose not to meet his friend’s gaze.

Before the curator could further this uncomfortable conversation, Shinji continued, “I was so entranced by the museum yesterday, I wanted to bring my friend. He’s also a Kunitachi student, and an avid reader. Can we get two admissions please?”

“Nonsense, just go on in, my treat!” the curator said with a smile, “And don’t forget to check out our special exhibit on the works of Leiji Matsumoto.”

Shinji and Kaworu bowed their heads in thanks, as they entered the museum. It wasn’t large, but traversing the whole museum still managed to take them a few hours. Kaworu stopped to read every placard he could find, and Shinji found the special exhibit particularly interesting.

Leiji Matsumoto was a manga artist who primarily wrote sci-fi stories, one of Shinji’s favorite genres. When he learnt Matsumoto had been responsible for Space Battleship Yamato, one of his favorite series, he excitedly pulled Kaworu over to the exhibit, gushing enthusiastically about the story and themes, and its storied influence in sci-fi media. Kaworu just smiled quietly as Shinji rambled on and on, until he remembered himself and apologised for getting so carried away. Kaworu only laughed, and brushed Shinji’s shoulder gently as he passed. Shinji’s breath hitched at the smell of his friend’s hair wafting past, the fleeting warmth of his body weirdly comforting. He shook his head, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

After spending entirely too long wandering the museum, they finally came to the end of the exhibits, and exited to the garden. It was getting into the evening, about 5:30pm, but the sun still hung low in the sky, bathing the garden with golden light. Shinji thought the cafe was picturesque in waning light, like a scene from a movie.

Both men ordered coffees and sat at one of the vacant patio tables. It seemed they weren’t the only museum patrons choosing to end their day at the cafe, it was bustling with the last rush of orders before closing time. 

In the golden light, Shinji couldn’t help but think Kaworu looked extra ethereal, his white hair and pale skin radiating in the light. Again, an unbidden thought came to Shinji, He’s so beautiful.

It wasn’t weird to think that right? Kaworu was, objectively, an attractive person. With his unique features and calming aura--it was normal to think he was beautiful. At least, that’s what Shinji tried to make himself believe, as he continued to reverently stare at his friend. 

Suddenly, he realized he’d stared long enough to warrant a questioning look from Kaworu, and quickly he turned his eyes to the greenery around them.

After a breath, Kaworu began speaking, “Oh, I meant to ask earlier. Was everything okay at the job last night? The man at the desk said something about you looking sick?”

Shinji winced. He really didn’t want to admit to Kaworu that he’d had another panic attack, partially because he had been upset about Kaworu ignoring him, even though it had just been his own mistake.

“Oh, that. Yeah I...I had another attack,” Shinji replied, and immediately his friend’s face twisted into one of deep concern, “But I was okay! I was able to perform!” Shinji added hastily.

“I was... I thought you had ignored me all day so I was... a little on edge I think,” he stared into his mug of half drunk coffee, “Not that I’m blaming you! I understand it was my fault, and actually,” he laughed quietly to himself, “Asuka helped me out. Usually she’s so mean but, I think she wants to be friends, she just doesn’t seem to know how to open up to people. Kind of like Rei...”

He immediately regretted mentioning the violist as Kaworu’s gaze turned stony. But he couldn’t understand why he seemed to dislike Rei! He swallowed his frustration and turned back to his coffee.

Kaworu composed himself and smiled, “Well, I’m glad you were able to perform after,” he said quietly.

After a moment of awkward silence they resumed speaking, until both coffees were long empty and the sun began to set.

“Well, this was a lot of fun, but it’s getting late,” Kaworu said, standing and stretching his arms overhead. Shinji felt a pang of regret at the day coming to an end, and reluctantly stood to leave with his friend. At that moment though, they were approached by two women that Shinji had noticed had been eyeing them from another table for a while now.

They were college-aged, if Shinji had to guess—likely Kunitachi students—though he didn’t think he recognized either of them. One had long black hair and wore a strappy summer dress with a thin cardigan, while the other seemed more shy, with glasses and shoulder-length hair, dressed modestly in jeans and a t-shirt.

“ ‘Scuse me,” the girl in the dress started, boisterously, “My friend has been eyeing you all day. She thinks you’re seriously good looking,” she giggled, “Do you have a girlfriend?” It was clear she was talking to Kaworu and Shinji almost laughed. Of course random girls would approach him, he resembled—as Shinji had so ineloquently put it at the beginning of the semester—an anime character, with his striking albino features.

“Ah,” Kaworu started awkwardly, before the short-haired girl grabbed her friend’s wrist, hastily saying, in a half whisper, “Mimi, please! This is so embarrassing!” She glanced at Kaworu, before quickly looking away with a blush.

“She’s cute right??” the girl in the dress continued with a wide smile, and Shinji felt something tighten deep within his gut. “You should give her a call sometime, her name is Yuko. Here,” she quickly snatched a napkin from the table and a pen from her purse, scribbled a number down, and shoved it into Kaworu’s hand.

The short-haired girl, Yuko, pulled her friend away, apologizing profusely but also casting a lingering, longing glance at Kaworu. After a moment, Kaworu seemed to collect himself and turned to exit the garden, face unreadable.

The silence between him and Shinji felt heavy, as they began their walk back to the station. Finally, Shinji couldn’t bear the silence any longer, and forced a laugh, asking, "Does that happen a lot?"

Kaworu didn’t answer immediately. Instead, as they approached the nearest trash can, he crumpled the napkin and tossed it in.

"Hey!" Shinji exclaimed in surprise, "What the heck? You're not even going to try to call her? She was cute."

Suddenly, it hit him—Did Kaworu have a girlfriend? He figured he would have mentioned it by now, but maybe he was keeping it a secret for some reason. It wouldn’t be surprising, Kaworu seemed to love his secrets, Shinji thought with a tinge of bitterness.

"Did you think she was cute?" Kaworu asked, his tone unexpectedly cold.

Another mood swing, Shinji thought, rolling his eyes internally. Kaworu sure could be fickle when he had a mind.

"I mean, she was fine, I guess," Shinji replied, trying to sound casual. "But I don't think I would've just tossed her number like that. It seems a little... disrespectful, I suppose."

"Funny," Kaworu said, sharply, "I find it disrespectful for two strangers to approach us, not even bother to introduce themselves, and insist I go out with one of them." His tone was biting, and it took Shinji aback. Though he’d only heard Kaworu talk this way a few times, it seemed so unnatural--wrong even--for such a gentle person to be able to speak so harshly.

"People seem to assume that, just because of my appearance, it's perfectly acceptable to come up to me and proposition me, or take my picture," Kaworu continued, his voice laced with disdain. "I'm sorry if I seem cold, Shinji, but my entire life, people have wanted to get to know me just because they thought I looked 'cool.' They didn’t even care to actually get to know me."

He sighed, his expression turning distant. "I guess I’ve just gotten a bit jaded."

Shinji felt an overwhelming wave of guilt wash over him. Did I make Kaworu feel this way when we first met? The thought of Kaworu assuming he only wanted to get to know him because of his appearance made his stomach churn. His mind flashed back to the day they met, and he cringed. Had he really just seen him as an ‘anime character’?

The day he met Kaworu felt like the day he met his savior. An angel with crimson eyes and heavenly pale skin, who would forever keep him safe. Did he really only see him for his appearance? Or had something more been there, buried beneath the surface?

Shinji stopped walking, and Kaworu turned to look at him with a questioning expression.

"I-I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way... like I just wanted to get to know you because of your condition. You’re so much more than your appearance, Kaworu!" Shinji said, trying to keep his voice steady, despite the knot of embarrassment in his throat.

"I guess..." He swallowed, forcing himself to push past the discomfort, "I just wanted to let you know. You—you really are... my best friend."

Kaworu’s expression shifted from anger to surprise, and then softened into a peaceful smile.

"Thank you, Shinji. You’re my best friend too."

After a moment, they resumed walking toward the station, the air between them feeling charged. With what, Shinji couldn’t say.

Chapter Text

“So Shinji, you meet a girl or somethin', dude? You been smilin' non-stop since yesterday,” Toji asked through a mouthful of dinner, thankfully keeping his mouth closed, but the food bulged from his cheeks making him look like some kind of horrific hamster.

Shinji blinked, the curry he just ladled onto his spoon dripping lazily back into his bowl. He couldn't deny he'd been riding a high since seeing Kaworu yesterday. The affirmation that he was Kaworu's best friend—no, that he was anyone's best friend—had him feeling on top of the world. Even the nagging thoughts at the back of his head that Kaworu was lying, or just being nice and telling Shinji what he wanted to hear, seemed to have less power over him than usual. Though Toji's observation that he'd apparently been so happy that his roommates had taken notice was a little embarassing.

After a moment, he composed himself, and replied with a chuckle, “Nah, nothing like that, I just spent yesterday with Kaworu.”

Toji gave him a confused look.

“ You’re all happy because of that guy ? What are you, gay?” he asked with a snicker.

Shinji felt a swirl of anger and embarrassment at the assumption. He was just happy that he and Kaworu were close. That didn’t mean... well, it didn’t mean they were like that, right? Toji was just being obtuse. He was obsessed with girls, that’s all. Just because I'm not like him with women doesn't mean I'm gay, Shinji thought resolutely.

“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with gay dudes obviously, but living with one,” Toji shuddered, “I wouldn’t want to share a bathroom with some guy that wanted to bone me.”

Kensuke finally joined the conversation, sitting down at the chabudai with his dinner, laughing, “Like anyone would want to bone you!”

“What, you're saying you wouldn't be into all this?” Toji gestured to his body, “I'm hot!”

Kensuke raised an eyebrow at the statement and opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Shinji blurted out, "I’m not gay! … Kaworu and I are just friends, okay?!"

Kensuke and Toji fell silent at the outburst, and Shinji awkwardly turned his attention back to his food. He should've just let it go! Now he looked like he was being overly sensitive to what was meant to be light teasing.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Kensuke spoke up. "So, you have anyone you're interested in, then, Mr. 'I'm Not Gay'?"

Shinji winced. Of course, the answer was a resounding no. He’d never felt that kind of attraction to girls. Not that anyone had ever confessed to him before—hell, he figured the world would freeze over before that happened—but even if someone had, he wasn’t sure he would’ve reciprocated those feelings.

What did it feel like to like someone? It’s not like he could ask his roommates, especially after how this conversation had gone. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d always felt off—broken, even—when it came to being attracted to others. It was normal to be into girls in your teens, yet Shinji had never felt anything for any girl he’d encountered in middle or high school.

With a sigh, he responded to Kensuke’s question in a defeated tone, “No. I’m going to bed,” then got up to dispose of the rest of his unfinished dinner.

“Awe, come on Shinji, don't be like that man! We were just joking,” Toji whined, but Shinji ignored him, quickly washing his bowl and trudging off to his room, hearing Kensuke chiding, “Nice going, asshole,” as he closed the door behind himself.

The next few days passed slowly—class, practice, class, practice.

Shinji wasn’t necessarily in a bad mood, but he felt numb. The fleeting happiness he’d experienced over the weekend seemed to vanish, replaced by the anxiety that people might be misunderstanding his relationship with Kaworu. On top of that, he felt a sense of depression over his inability to experience attraction like a “normal” person. It was something he’d always known about himself, but now he was realizing that the closer you got to others, the more you became aware of things about yourself you’d rather ignore.

Toji clearly felt guilty about Sunday’s conversation, probably after noticing Shinji’s dip in mood. He’d backed off on the teasing remarks and even made extra dinner for him on Monday and Tuesday night. It had just been instant noodles, but still, Shinji appreciated the effort.

On their morning walk to Wednesday’s classes, Toji suddenly declared, "We're going to karaoke on Friday!"

"Karaoke??" Kensuke and Shinji both asked, incredulously.

"Yep! I feel like we're in a mid-semester slump, so we're going to karaoke. And besides, we’ve been unable to get Shinji to do anything with us yet, so now I'm not asking," Toji said, turning to Shinji with a wide grin. "You're coming to karaoke, and you're bringing your quartet members! Oh yeah, I know they're all cute girls."

He added, responding to Shinji's surprised expression.

"But—" Shinji began, but Kensuke cut him off.

"Toji's right, we're not letting you blow off another outing. Bring your quartet members, and invite Kaworu!" he said with a wink.

Shinji's face reddened. "I told you, we're not—"

"I know, I know," Kensuke laughed, patting Shinji on the back. "Just playin', but seriously, invite him. I wanna get to know him better."

Shinji sighed. Clearly, there was no getting out of this outing, and maybe it would be good for him—perhaps it would even improve his mood. Plus, as Misato had been encouraging him to do, it would be good exposure therapy to sing in front of others.

"Alright..." he moaned, defeated, before adding, "But wait, Toji, how'd you know my quartet was all female?"

"Oh, that?" Toji grinned. "Saw you meeting up for that gig Friday when I was on a run. You're not nearly as secretive as you pretend to be." He said with a wink.

"Anyway, I'm totally inviting Hikari too! She acts all aloof, but she's into me—I can tell," he added, and Shinji caught Kensuke rolling his eyes, eliciting his own sly smile.

The rest of the commute was spent with Shinji's roommates making a playlist of all the songs they wanted to sing on Toji's phone, leaving Shinji to his thoughts.

Of course, like with any social activity, Shinji had never been to karaoke before. He didn’t think he had a terrible voice—most music students could carry a tune, or at least recognize when they were woefully out of key. Still, the idea of singing in front of people, even if they were his friends, was obviously terrifying. He took a deep breath. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just focus on inviting the quartet today, he decided.

He waited until he was sitting in his morning Theory class before composing the first message to his quartet's group chat. He hesitated, staring at his keyboard for far too long, trying to ignore the knots forming in his stomach, before finally starting to type.

Shinji: My roommates want to invite everyone to karaoke Friday evening. Are you guys free?

Despite it being a group chat, he found it much easier to text his quartet about plans than Kaworu, oddly enough. He decided not to try to unravel that mystery and instead chose to appreciate that he wasn’t anxiously picking his cuticles raw like he sometimes did when messaging the pianist..

After the message was sent, he turned his attention to class for the next hour. When he did check his phone again, all three women had replied.

Asuka: Karaoke? Normally I wouldn't be caught dead in public with you, but I've been wanting to try it so I think I can make some room in my schedule *winking face*

Mari: Hell yeah! Looking forward to it *smiley face*

Rei: *thumbs up*

Shinji giggled softly at that last response. Anytime Rei needed to answer with a "Yes," she always used a thumbs-up emoji. Shinji had a feeling, knowing her, that she just found it more efficient, which was so... Rei. Honestly, he was surprised they were all up for it, too. He'd figured Mari would be interested, since she seemed very extroverted, but Asuka and Rei? That was a surprise, but a pleasant one, Shinji decided.

Next was Kaworu, but Shinji found that every time he opened the text chat with his friend, he couldn’t find the right words and ended up closing it in defeat. It was always difficult to message Kaworu—excitement and nerves would swirl into a heart-pounding, sweat-inducing fever—but for some reason, this message proved particularly challenging.

Maybe because I’m inviting him out with friends? Shinji wondered, as he absently went about his day, before finally walking through his bedroom door with an exhausted sigh. After the interaction between Kaworu and Rei, Shinji worried if that had been a one-time thing. What if Kaworu doesn’t do well with crowds? he thought. Maybe he just prefers one-on-one conversations. What if Kaworu ruins the whole vibe during karaoke? I’d be to blame—it’s my friend.

No, Shinji decided. I’ll invite Kaworu, and it’ll be fine. It’ll be fun! If Kaworu doesn’t want to come, I need to trust him to be honest with me. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a seat at his desk. With a steadying breath, he opened the text chat and composed his message.

Shinji: Hey there, would you like to come to karaoke with me on Friday? My roommates, quartet members, and possibly one or two other students will be going.

He hesitated, before adding 'No pressure!' and sending the message.

Leaving his phone at his desk he went in search of dinner, and met with Toji as he entered through the front door.

“Hey, welcome home,” Shinji said with a small smile.

“Thanks,” Toji replied, and sat with a huff on the couch, unceromoniously dropping his backpack on the floor next to him.

“You ask the chicks if they can come?” he murmured, tiredly.

“Yeah, they're all coming. Not sure if you'll like them though. They're certainly... interesting,” Shinji chuckled softly.

“They're hot, that's good enough for me,” Toji laughed, but Shinji grimaced, though Toji couldn't see that, as Shinji mulled about the kitchen.

“Speaking of, you gotta be into at least one of them man, come on... spill it! I can keep a secret,” Toji said, mischeivously, “Like, what about the red-haired one? She's seriously cute!”

Shinji rolled his eyes, again unseen by Toji from the living room, and replied, “They're just my friends, Toji. Don't make it weird on Friday, please.”

“Ugh, you're so not fun. But fiiine, I won't try to play matchmaker, promise,” he grumbled, picking up his bag after a moment, and retreating to his room.

As Shinji heated his instant curry, he worried at his cuticles. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Toji seemed determined to either set him up with one of the girls or assume he and Kaworu were a couple and tease him about it. Either way, he hoped Kensuke would keep his more boisterous roommate in line on Friday—he couldn’t afford to have any of his newfound friendships be damaged by Toji's loose lips.

A few minutes later, Shinji returned to his room, curry steaming from the bowl, which was starting to burn his hands the longer he held it. He checked his phone, unsurprisingly already seeing a new message from Kaworu.

Kaworu: I'd love to come! *heart*

Though Shinji could feel the familiar anxiety about the event beginning to build in the back of his mind, he smiled at the message. Kaworu would be there, he wanted to be there. It won’t be awkward like it was with Rei, he told himself. My first gathering of friends, he thought, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest at the idea. It’ll be fun!

Friday finally dawned, after what had felt like the slowest week of the semester. Maybe it was because he was excited, or maybe he was scared. Shinji couldn't really decide how he felt about going to karaoke or having his first large gathering of friends. In general, he was getting tired of experiencing so many firsts these past couple of months. But by the time practice ended for the day and he headed home to quickly change before meeting everyone at the school gates, he felt like he could barely breathe, his heart pounding with charged nerves.

Quickly, he entered his dorm room, practically throwing his cello to the floor, and began to put on the outfit he'd laid out the day before: another classic short-sleeve button-up with jeans and black sneakers. I really need to get some cooler clothes, he thought. However, his antsy thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing.

With his shirt half-buttoned, he fished his phone out of his jeans pocket, stomach leaping into his throat when he saw the caller’s name.

"Kaworu? Everything alright??" he answered breathlessly, partly due to his rushing and partly from surprise.

"Ah, hey Shinji," Kaworu replied, and immediately Shinji could hear the tinge of regret in his voice. "Yeah, I'm okay, but... I'm sorry, I can't come tonight."

Shinji felt the air leave his lungs for a moment. He knew he'd been looking forward to seeing Kaworu outside of studying again, but perhaps he hadn't realized just how much he'd been looking forward to it until now.

“Shinji?”

“Hey, yeah, I'm here, sorry. Yeah, it’s fine, no worries,” Shinji replied, trying to keep the dejection out of his voice.

“I’m so sorry about this, I’ll make it up to you next week! I—” But Kaworu was cut off by what sounded like someone frantically calling his name in the background.

“Just—ugh! I’ll be there in a second, please! Sorry—hello, Shinji? I have to go. I’ll see you next week,” he said briskly, and hung up before Shinji even had a chance to reply.

Shinji continued to hold the phone to his ear, dumbfounded, as questions began to swirl into a roiling hurricane of confusion.

What just happened? Is everything okay? Was that his mom? Does he need help?

But, yet again, his frantic thoughts were interrupted when his phone buzzed again, this time with a text from Toji.

Toji: Yo, just waiting on you and Hikari, hurry your ass up!

Robotically, Shinji finished buttoning his shirt, grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet, and hurriedly exited the apartment.

He tried his best not to let his mind spiral as it concocted increasingly unbelievable reasons for Kaworu canceling last minute. He made his way to the school gate, which was only a five-minute walk, but five minutes in Shinji's frantic mind felt like an eternity. By the time he reached the college entrance and saw Toji waving to him excitedly, he was thoroughly convinced that either Kaworu was dealing with some kind of family crisis or had decided he didn’t want to spend time with Shinji’s friends after all.

Neither prospect was particularly comforting.

Thankfully, Shinji wasn't the last one to arrive—the last thing he needed was the possibility that everyone had been waiting on him. Hikari trotted up behind him just a few seconds later, spouting apologies.

Kensuke turned to Shinji. "Kaworu coming?" he asked, to which Shinji just shook his head.

"Ah, something came up, unfortunately."

"Oh, that sucks... alright, well I guess let's head to the station," Kensuke announced to everyone else.

As per usual, Rei fell into step next to Shinji behind the group as they began their commute to the train station.

"Kaworu is that white-haired boy from the other night, yes?" she asked softly.

"Uh, yeah. He was supposed to come, but... ah, ended up not being able to make it," Shinji mumbled in response. Though he enjoyed the company of most of the people in the group, he couldn't help feeling like his life raft had been pulled away from him. He couldn't imagine enjoying this outing much at all without his pale companion. Right now, all he wanted to do was turn around, go home, and lie under the covers, listening to Moonlight Sonata.

"That's a shame, I would've liked to get to know him more," Rei said, her voice tinged with regret as she looked off toward the station ahead.

Shinji didn’t reply—he didn’t want to talk about Kaworu, or anything really—but he found himself saying, “I’m surprised you came actually, didn’t take you for a group karaoke person.”

Rei shot him a wry smile. “What, you didn’t peg me for a social butterfly?”

Shinji gaped at her for a moment, before laughing loud enough for Kensuke and Hikari to look back at him curiously. A joke from Rei was as rare as seeing a solar eclipse.

“No, I obviously was planning to turn down the invite at first, but then I thought... maybe it would be... fun,” she added in her quiet monotone, before turning to Shinji with a warm smile. “I think you helped with that, by talking to me. Most people just ignore me.”

Shinji felt his heart skip. She hadn’t said that last statement in a sad or pitying way. For her, it was just a fact. He felt a sudden urge to hug her, to tell her he was sorry that she felt that way. To commiserate with her, telling her how he had been neglected as a child and knew the pain of being ignored. But instead, he just smiled and gingerly put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m glad you decided to come tonight, seriously,” he said, before dropping his hand and hurrying to catch up with the others.

While he was genuinely happy Rei was here, it made Kaworu's absence feel harder to ignore. They were so similar, the two of them. Both calm, sure of themselves, with the ability to put Shinji at ease and make him feel like they cared about what he had to say. Once they were on the train, Shinji found himself looking at his text chat with Kaworu on his phone. He wanted to text the pianist, ask if everything was alright, but couldn't seem to find the words.

Suddenly, Toji snatched the phone from his hands and put it in his own jeans pocket.

“Oh no, dude, after we finally get you outta the house, the last thing I'm gonna do is watch you sit on your phone all night!” he said, grinning.

“Yeah, Shinji, you've barely said two words to us, and the night's just getting started!” Mari chimed in, sticking her tongue out playfully.

Shinji tried desperately to retrieve his phone over the next few minutes, likely annoying the other train's riders, but eventually gave up once they reached their stop. It seemed everyone in the group, even Rei, was in agreement that Toji should hang onto Shinji's phone tonight.

“It'll be good for you, man. Force you to interact with us a bit, okay?” Kensuke encouraged, patting Shinji's back lightly, as Toji led the party to the karaoke venue.

The venue was, if Shinji had to describe it in one word, hip. The main lobby area seemed to function primarily as a bar, lit with LEDs, and a flat screen playing music videos behind the bartender. The music pulsed a bit too loudly for Shinji's tastes.

Once they’d all entered, a young hostess, probably around their age, approached, and Toji showed her the reservation he’d made in advance on his phone. Flashing a bright smile, she led them away from the loud music, down a narrow hallway, and into a room with a long booth lining three of the walls—large enough to seat all seven of them comfortably. Mari sat at one end, followed by Asuka, Rei, Shinji, Kensuke, Toji, and Hikari on the other end. Shinji scowled at being placed in the middle of the crowd. How did that happen?

Once they were settled, Toji began taking song requests and queuing them in the system, while Asuka and Mari looked at the menu. Mari, Rei, and Hikari, all old enough to drink, ordered a pitcher of beer to share among themselves, while the first-years all stuck to soda. Asuka, however, ordered some kind of fruity mocktail, which they all snickered at—much to her chagrin.

“Whatever, I'm way more mature than all of you combined, okay? It's not my fault that stupid Japanese drinking laws are so strict. If this were Germany-”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. Germany is the best country ever!” Mari laughed, slapping Asuka's back and taking a deep gulp of her Sapporo. Even in the dim light of the karaoke room Shinji could see the color rising in Asuka's cheeks, and giggled.

Suddenly, Toji shoved the tablet he’d been using to queue songs into Shinji’s lap.

“You gotta sing at least one song, okay? Them’s the rules,” he said forcefully.

Shinji grimaced and looked to Kensuke, who merely shrugged. “Them’s the rules.”

Quickly, Shinji tried to think of any songs he regularly listened to with lyrics. Almost everything on his cassettes were classical pieces, and he wasn’t about to sing something he didn’t know the lyrics to—that was for sure.

After a moment of fervent deliberation, he suddenly remembered a song he was pretty sure his mother used to sing to him as a lullaby when he was just a toddler. It was the last track on one of his cassettes, a track he was sure his mother had added in personally because she loved the song so much. He breathed a sigh of relief when the song appeared in the parlor's database and quickly added it to the queue, before handing the tablet back to Toji.

“Alright, we’re all queued up for at least the next hour or so. Hikari’s up first!” Toji announced.

And so began their karaoke night. Hikari and Mari had the best voices—clearly, they were karaoke experts—but Kensuke was also a surprisingly decent singer. Occasionally, Shinji thought of Kaworu throughout the night, imagining what the pianist's voice would sound like, or wishing it was his warmth permeating Shinji's space on the bench instead of Kensuke's. But overall, he had a surprisingly enjoyable night.

When it came his turn to sing his song choice, Fly Me to the Moon, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he assumed it would be. Of course, Toji and Mari ribbed him for choosing such an old song.

“What are you, 50?!” they had exclaimed.

But the group seemed to enjoy his ballad, and singing in front of his friends was much less scary than he’d worried it would be over the last few days. Actually, dare he say, it had been pretty fun. He even opted to sing again, this time accompanying Rei, as they sang a hilariously depressing song about the world ending that no one else seemed to know.

As they exited the train back at the school, several hours later, all the group members were talking and laughing amongst themselves. Whatever tension had been between them at the start of the evening had long since disappeared, replaced by enthusiastic goodbyes as the non-dorm students went their separate ways.

Though worn from the hours of interactions, Shinji still managed to find the energy to talk with Rei as she accompanied himself, Toji, and Kensuke back to the dorms.

“Have you ever done karaoke before? You were really great!” Shinji exclaimed.

“No, never. You?” Rei replied, her voice still calm but warm.

“Same, it was a lot of fun. I'd even go again,” Shinji laughed lightly.

“See, we just needed to get you outta the house! Next stop is the arcade!” Toji called back over his shoulder.

“Woah, one thing at a time there, Toji, don’t wanna short-circuit the kid,” Kensuke added, with a laugh.

Shinji suddenly felt a warm happiness spread through his chest. Kaworu may not have been able to come tonight, and while his presence was missed, Shinji realized he really did have other friends. Other people that enjoyed his company, for the first time in his life. This whole semester, while being the hardest experience of his life so far, had also felt like a dream. A dream that was so good, he felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Good times surely wouldn't last for him, right?

As he bid Rei a good night and finally made it through his apartment door, he collapsed onto his bed, sighing contentedly. Again, his mind wandered back to Kaworu. Without his usual hesitation, he pulled his phone from his pocket and typed:

Shinji : Hey, just wanted to say I missed you tonight. I hope everything is okay, and I can't wait to take you to karaoke another day, it was a lot of fun!

He hit the send button and hugged the device to his chest. He might regret such a personal message tomorrow, but tonight? Right now? He felt untouchable.

Chapter Text

After what had possibly been the most exciting Friday of Shinji’s life to date, the weekend brought him crashing back into reality. Next week he’d start rehearsing the Rachmaninoff with Kaworu, and they’d have a little less than three weeks until the recital to polish it. A week after would be finals, and then summer break, for which Shinji hadn’t a clue what he’d be doing for that.

Saturday passed gloomily, with warm rain intermittently dousing the campus every few hours. Shinji spent a large chunk of the day in the practice hall. The last thing he wanted to do was let Kaworu down as his accompanist, and so he practiced the Rachmaninoff over and over, again and again. Finally, when his calloused fingers began to ache from hours of pressing strings to the fingerboard, he packed up his cello and headed home.

Kaworu still hadn’t replied to the text Shinji had sent the night before. While deep embarrassment over the emotional openness of his message had bloomed that morning, as he knew it would, Shinji’s primary emotion now was concern.

Is Kaworu okay? he wondered, anxiously worrying at his cuticles as he trudged back to the dorms in the summer drizzle. Of course, he had lost the gamble he made with himself by choosing not to bring an umbrella. Fortunately, he didn’t automatically assume Kaworu hated him for not responding, as he might have in the past. It simply seemed like something was going on in Kaworu’s personal life—something Shinji felt a desperate need to understand.

I should at least text him to make sure everything is okay.

But would he come off looking like a worried parent, or someone more... intimate that that? It had only been a day since Shinji heard from Kaworu, and given his roommate’s opinions on the nature of their relationship, maybe it would be best for Shinji to just bite his tongue and wait for Kaworu to reach out to him instead. As anxious thoughts swarm his mind, rain started making its way through his thin shirt, to the skin beneath, and he shivered. Any possible text would need to wait for now. He needed to pick up the pace and get home before he was soaked through.

That effort proved futile though. In the fifteen minutes it took Shinji to walk home, the rain went from a drizzle to a full-on downpour. In the end, it really wouldn’t have mattered if he had run or walked back to the dorms. By the time he made it through the front door he was drenched and shivering.

Fortunately, it seemed his roommates were either out or in their rooms, so there was no one around to laugh at him as he left his cello case by the door and made his way to the bathroom, looking like a drowned rat. He immediately started a bath, trying to steady his hands, trembling with the cold, as he turned the knobs. Before the tub was even half full, he climbed in, submerging as much of his chilled body as the water would allow.

Even though he stayed in the bath for a good thirty minutes, he couldn’t seem to shake the chill. Eventually, he brought a steaming bowl of ramen to his room, placing it on his nightstand before crawling under the covers with his laptop. He ate slowly, attempting to work on yet another art history paper, before giving up and deciding to watch his latest anime instead.

Thanks to Toji and Kensuke's influence, he'd become quite the anime fan, though probably still a casual viewer by otaku standards. Currently, he was working his way through Cowboy Bebop , yet another sci-fi anime. He certainly had clear preferences. However, by the end of the second episode that evening, he had already dozed off into a restless sleep.

Waking up the next day was... unpleasant, to say the least. He had fallen asleep propped against his headboard, his laptop still open in his lap. His throat was painfully dry, and it felt as if he hadn't had a drop of water in ages. The sudden, intense thirst was almost alarming.

As he rose from the bed, his head swam, and he realized he was drenched in a cold sweat. It reminded him of his increasingly familiar panic attacks. He chuckled bitterly, and started making his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, there you are, it's like, almost afternoon—Woah,” Kensuke started, looking up from a pan of eggs in the kitchen, only for his smile to fall into a look of concern, “You okay, Shinji? You don't look so great.”

Shinji hadn't had a chance to see himself this morning (afternoon?) but judging by how he felt, he figured 'ghostly' would probably be an apt description.

“Water,” he croaked, dryly.

“Yeah... look, just get back in bed okay? I'll get you some water,” Kensuke replied, sounding more responsible than Shinji had ever heard.

He hesitated in the hallway, staring at Kensuke in the kitchen, before his roommate shooed him off, saying, “Bed, now! You look like you're about to collapse anyway.”

Shinji shuffled back toward his room, but a sudden wave of nausea sent him into the adjacent bathroom, where he promptly emptied his stomach. Well, this is a great start to the week, he thought hazily, gulping down handfuls of water from the tap before continuing his slow trek back to the bedroom.

Lying back in bed, Kensuke entered with some water and medicine.

“Pretty sure this stuff is a bit expired, but I'll get Toji to run to the pharmacy later okay?” he said, gently setting the glass and pills on Shinji's bedside table.

“Thanks... caught in the rain yesterday,” Shinji mumbled, eyes already half-closed.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Kensuke snickered, his laugh sounding miles away, “Now take your meds and sleep.”

Shinji obeyed, swallowing the water in three audible gulps, then curling into a shivering ball, drenched in sweat and chills. He fell asleep just as Kensuke quietly closed the door behind him.

Crying.

Who's crying? Shinji wonders. He looks around absently, and recognizes the old blue carpet beneath his feet. It belongs to his childhood home, though he can barely remember it now. Towering shadowy figures stand around him, but still, the source of the crying eludes him.

“Poor kid, to be without a mother at that age.”

“Awful, and she was so young too!”

“And talented, such a waste...”

Oh. A dream. A memory really, of his mother’s wake.

Suddenly, Shinji feels something on his cheek, and touching it, he realizes he’s the one that is crying. His hand is so small, stubby soft fingers replace his long toughened ones. Then he sees a pair of large shoes standing in front of him, dwarfing the legs of the other adults around him. He looks up to a towering figure before him, and cowers.

“I'm so sorry, Dr. Ikari,” someone says, “She will be sorely missed. But what about your son? Will you be okay just the two of you now?”

And suddenly, the scene shifts, and Shinji is now standing on a train platform, the afternoon sun baking his face.

No. He didn't want to remember this. Wake up! He pleads with his subconscious.

But he doesn’t wake up, instead, he’s still crying. Now wailing, really, as his father gives him one last look before turning his back on him. The echoing boom of his receding footsteps rattle Shinji's chest.

Don't go, Father! Don't leave me alone! Please!!

Then another memory surfaces—Christmas at one of the many teachers' homes he'd lived at during his childhood. Shinji's eyes drift up the trunk of the towering figure before him, and his father's red-tinted glasses—always obscuring his eyes—reflect Shinji's young face, cheeks still rounded with baby fat. He feels something in his hands and, glancing down, sees a small instrument.

My first cello.

He looks back up to his father, glaring. A year since his mother passed and this was the first he'd heard from the man. In reality, his father hadn't even been there; he'd mailed the cello and Shinji had opened it alone on Christmas day.

Suddenly, his father speaks, voice deafeningly loud, and Shinji’s tiny hands shoot up to cover his ears. He recognizes the words; his father’s directive from their meeting on Shinji’s first day at Kunitachi.

“The only good thing you seemed to have inherited from your mother was musical ability. I want you to be the greatest musician to graduate from Kunitachi.”

Shinji screams with pain at the ear-splitting volume. His eardrums feel like they’re about to rupture.

“I can't!” he wails in his small child voice.

“If you cannot handle it, you can leave,” Gendo roars in response.

“Please... Father!” Shinji sobs, eyes squeezed tightly shut, hands still cupping his ears, and then suddenly he’s on a train bathed in orange afternoon light, and he’s an adult again. There’s a figure sitting on the opposite bench. A child? Their face is obscured by the sunlight streaming in through the train’s windows behind.

“Who’re you?” Shinji asks.

“Who? Shinji Ikari,” the figure answers.

“Who?”

“I’m you. The self is composed of two selves, the self that is viewed by others, and the self that observes the self. And what you fear is the Shinji Ikari that exists in the minds of others.”

“I’m just afraid of being hated,” Shinji answers feebly.

“You’re afraid of being hurt ,” the voice corrects gently.

“But... who is bad?”

“Father is. He’s the one who deserted us.”

“No, I’m the one who’s bad!” Shinji exclaims, “I thought I hated my father, but now I’m not so sure...”

“Will you live the rest of your life working towards his praise? His acceptance? He’s the one who’s bad.”

“If I can accomplish what Father directed me to do, I’ll be enough! And his praise will be enough to keep me going!” Shinji tries to reason, frantically.

“Even though you know you’re deceiving yourself?” the voice counters.

“Everybody does it, that’s how everyone survives!”

“If you cannot accept that you are capable of initiating change within yourself, you will be unable to continue.”

“No, I don’t want to hear this!” he yells, squeezing his eyes shut and clapping hands to his ears.

Then, there’s deafening silence.

Cautiously, Shinji opens his eyes, and realizes with horror that he’s nowhere. A blank space. There’s nothing, and he’s alone. Abandoned. Forsaken.

“Wait... Don't leave me!!” he screams into the void.

Shinji shot up with a frantic gasp, his eyes darting around like a hunted animal.

“Hey! You're okay. Just take a breath. You're okay,” a soothing voice murmured from somewhere.

His bangs were plastered to his forehead, drenched in sweat, and as he became more aware, he realized his pajamas and bed sheets were soaked too. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to shake off the disorientation and taking steadying breaths.

A dream. It was just a dream. He was an adult again, a student at Kunitachi's Music Conservatory. This was his dorm room, and sitting at his desk was... wait, huh?

Kaworu smiled at him softly.

“Mornin' sleepyhead.”

Was it morning? The room was dim, and the last remnants of dusk seemed to be giving way to night outside.

“What time is it?” Shinji mumbled. “And why are you here...?”

Kaworu chuckled and closed the laptop on the desk in front of him.

“It’s around 7:30 PM. Don’t worry, it’s still Sunday—you didn’t sleep through to the next day or something. I got back this afternoon and wanted to drop by to see you.”

Back from where? Shinji wondered hazily, but Kaworu was still talking, and he tried his best to focus on the words.

“I’ve apparently developed a habit of dropping in unannounced,” Kaworu laughed softly to himself. “But I suppose in this case it worked out. Kensuke told me you were sick and sent me to the pharmacy when I showed up. Seems like he can be strangely parental.”

“Mhmm,” Shinji murmured. The rush of adrenaline that had jolted him awake was already fading into drowsiness. He slowly slumped back onto his sweat-soaked pillow.

“Wait, hold on, don’t go back to sleep yet,” Kaworu said softly, and a moment later Shinji felt a weight settle on the side of the bed. He opened heavy eyelids to see Kaworu leaning over him.

“Here,” the pianist cupped the back of Shinji's head with cold fingers, and lifted. His hands always seemed to be cold, and the sensation was welcomed on Shinji’s fevered skin. Through his hazy consciousness, Shinji slowly registered what was happening.

Kaworu was pulling Shinji’s head up towards his own, and he realized their faces were closer than they had ever been. It was like Shinji was looking at his friend for the first time. Pale eyelashes framing dark red eyes, so close now that Shinji could see the striations of color in his corneas. Kaworu’s white hair, grown long enough over the months to almost rest on Shinji’s forehead from this distance, and his thin lips that seemed to always be curved into a gentle smile.

Suddenly, Shinji was also struck by how tired Kaworu looked. Dark circles lined his eyes, and his pale skin seemed drained of color, almost translucent. Did he look like this when we first met?

Before Shinji could think further, his head was gently lowered back onto the pillow, and he noticed a clean towel had been placed between him and the sweat-soaked pillowcase.

“There, a little less gross” Kaworu laughed breathily.

"Now, before you sleep again, drink this and take some more medicine," Kaworu continued, rummaging through a plastic pharmacy bag before producing a sports drink and some gel capsules. Shinji reluctantly propped himself up on his elbows, quickly swallowing the medicine and half of the sports drink, then settling back onto the pillow with a soft huff.

"You'll... get sick too," he managed to croak, forcing his heavy eyes open once more to glance at the pianist.

Kaworu gazed at him with a gentle expression that Shinji's feverish mind couldn’t quite place.

"I'll be fine. There's some instant porridge and chicken soup in the kitchen for when you get hungry. I’m going to leave now... you should sleep."

"Thank you," Shinji whispered. Suddenly, he felt a cold touch graze his forehead as Kaworu brushed his sweaty bangs away. Then, the hand and the weight on the side of the bed were gone, and Shinji was already drifting into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, Shinji felt significantly better. Though he was likely still running a low fever, he was able to get up, shower, and eat some of the porridge Kaworu had brought. It wasn’t until he started eating that he realized he hadn’t eaten anything in over 24 hours; he finished his bowl in record time. Afterward, before lying back down for more sleep, he took more of the medicine Kaworu had generously provided and texted Hikari and his quartet group chat to let them know he would be missing both Philharmonic and quartet rehearsals that day.

In the evening, he repeated the process—waking, washing, eating, and sleeping—and by Tuesday morning, his fever had finally broken. He still felt achy and lethargic, but well enough to attend his late afternoon private lesson with Misato. He’d also need to think of a way to thank Kensuke and Kaworu. Had anyone ever cared for him like that when he’d been sick in the past?

Although he didn’t remember much from the past couple of days, one thing lingered in his mind: the satisfying chill of Kaworu’s fingers on the back of his neck as he gently lifted Shinji’s fevered head. Suddenly, it hit him how affectionate the gesture had been. He’d been too feverish to feel embarrassed, anxious, or anything other than grateful at the time, but now frantic confusion overtook him. Would I have been comfortable with anyone else doing that? His distressed mind scrambled for an answer, trying to make sense of the swirling feelings in his gut.

Finally, he decided to just chalk it up to Toji's teasing about their friendship, and ignore trying to understand himself, which usually ended poorly anyway. I've never had a friend I'm this close with, that's all. We're perfectly normal classmates. He thought, resolutely, though he wasn't sure he believed his own words. These internal arguments seemed to be occurring more and more frequently. But he decided to worry about something else, anything else, as he made his way towards Misato's office that afternoon.

She greeted him with her genial smile and immediately rose from her cluttered desk to begin setting up their chairs and stands. Shinji followed suit.

Misato made a concerned face, “Feeling alright? Sick?”

Though Shinji hadn't been coughing or showing any contagious symptoms of a cold, he'd still worn a mask today just in case.

“Yeah, just caught a fever over the weekend. I got stuck in the rain walking home after practice,” Shinji chuckled weakly.

“We can pick this up in Thursday's session if you'd prefer,” Misato replied gently.

Shinji smiled, grateful for her concern, though she probably couldn't see through the mask.

“No, no, I'm good. Thanks, Ms. Misato. I hadn’t left the house since Saturday afternoon, so I was getting a bit stir-crazy anyway.”

“Well we can take it slow today, no need to over-exert yourself,” she replied, which Shinji was grateful for because by the end of the lesson he definitely felt the need for another early night's rest. The simple act of playing his cello for an hour was enough to leave him breathless and exhausted. As they both packed their instruments away, Misato asked, “So Shinji, what are you doing for summer break?”

It was an innocent enough question, but still, Shinji winced.

“I, uh...” Shinji hesitated, unable to muster the energy to say I have nowhere to go in a way that didn’t sound too blunt. Luckily, Misato cut him off before he had to.

“So... look, the reason I ask is because... well, I know you don't really have much of a relationship with your father. Don't ask how I know, just... word gets around with the staff okay? Plus with the dorms closing over the summer...” she finished packing her cello into the case, snapping the locks closed with a satisfying click .

Shinji felt his stomach twist. Did everyone in the school seem to know about him and his father?! He wished, more than ever, that he’d decided to attend a regular college—somewhere he could choose to be whoever he wanted, somewhere no one would know him or expect anything of him.

Misato continued, “If you have nowhere else to stay in Tokyo, well... I have a spare room. I know you have enough on your plate with recitals and finals coming up, so I just wanted to tell you my door is open if you'd like to stay with me...” Misato’s eyes darted around the room, before finally landing on Shinji's.

“And don't get any weird ideas, I don't date my students!” she snapped half-jokingly.

Shinji physically grimaced, though thankfully, his mask hid it. Misato was, of course, beautiful. There could certainly be worse people to live with for six weeks. But he definitely wasn’t interested in her in that way. He wasn’t interested in anyone like that.

Misato was looking at him expectantly now. He took a breath, considering her offer, but before he could respond, she quickly continued.

“Look, you don’t have to answer now, and I’m just kidding about dating students. I mean... I don’t!” she said, frantically waving her hands in front of her face. “But, ugh! You know what I mean. Just let me know if I need to clean my place up, okay?”

Shinji grimaced again at the thought of how messy Misato's apartment might be, especially considering the state of her office. However, she seemed to genuinely care about his wellbeing, and she was easy to be around. Not having to worry about finding an apartment to sublet, or returning to Nagoya and contacting an old teacher, would certainly be a relief.

Finally, he quietly started, “I don't want to impose...”

“Shinji, please, I'm offering!” Misato laughed, her tone warm and genuine.

After another moment of hesitation, Shinji replied, “…Alright, if you're sure… I’d be really grateful.”

At that, Misato clapped her hands together in excitement. “Wonderful! Just let me know if you change your mind, but I’m looking forward to the company! The only person I have to talk to at home is Pen Pen...”

“Pen Pen?” Shinji asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My other roommate!” Misato winked. “You’ll see when you meet him. He doesn’t take up very much room,” she giggled.

Shinji rolled his eyes, already beginning to second-guess his decision, but mostly feeling appreciative of having such a kind older presence in his life. Misato was certainly a weird one, and she didn’t give off the typical “acclaimed cellist with a PhD” vibe, but she was a tour-de-force in her own right—confident, beautiful, and accomplished. Shinji decided that if he could be half the person Misato was, he’d be satisfied for life.

Leaving his lesson, Shinji decided that tomorrow, he’d find a way to repay Kaworu and Kensuke. He wasn’t quite sure how, but he felt obligated to do something for them after how they’d cared for him over the weekend. As he started heading back toward the dorms, however, he heard a soft calling of his name and looked up to find Rei half-running to meet him.

“Hey! What’s up? Sorry, I missed rehearsal yesterday,” Shinji greeted.

“Asuka canceled anyway. How are you feeling?” she asked, and before Shinji could stop her, she had her hand to his forehead.

He chuckled and gently swiped her hand away. “Hey, I’m fine, Rei! I didn’t want to miss my private lesson today, so that’s why I’m out. But before this, I’ve basically just been sleeping for the last few days.”

“You don’t feel hot, that’s good,” she said quietly, and there was an awkward pause.

Shinji looked down and noticed she had her viola case in her hand. “Going to practice?” he offered.

“Oh, yes.”

A sudden thought hit Shinji. “So actually, I could use your help, maybe?”

Rei gave him an incredulous look.

“I was just thinking about what I could do for Kensuke and Kaworu to thank them for taking care of me this weekend. Any ideas? I’m not exactly flush with cash, but I need to show my appreciation somehow.”

Rei was silent for long enough that Shinji wondered if she was just waiting for him to speak again. Finally, she replied, quietly, “Maybe bake something? I’ll help.”

Now it was Shinji’s turn to give Rei an incredulous look. Somehow, he couldn’t picture her baking—or cooking much of anything, really—but she just shrugged.

“My parents like sweets... I can’t really cook savory stuff, but baking is fun. We’ll go shopping tomorrow, and we can use my kitchen... You live with Kensuke, right? I’d imagine you don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Shinji blinked. Rei never took the initiative like this, and he wasn’t quite sure how to react to her offer. In the end, he simply nodded dumbly, and Rei smiled. “See you tomorrow then. We’ll go after quartet rehearsal.”

The rest of the evening passed without much excitement. Kensuke and Toji asked about Shinji’s health when he got home. Shinji finished the last of the canned soup Kaworu had gotten for him, and after spending a few hours catching up on his schoolwork, he decided to call it an early night.

What sweets does Kaworu even like? Shinji found himself wondering, his reflection staring back at him as he brushed his teeth. Kensuke, he knew, loved classic flavors, especially chocolate. When Kensuke had gotten a cake for Shinji after his first quartet gig, he’d admitted later that he had just picked something he wanted.

Luckily, Shinji wasn’t very picky when it came to sweets. But Kaworu... he tried to think back on every interaction they’d had involving food. Kaworu drank black coffee. He had a strangely ravenous appetite. He’d eaten Kensuke’s chocolate cake without complaint. Then, Shinji remembered the boba shop. Kaworu always got Earl Grey milk tea there!

Can you make an Earl Grey-flavored dessert? he wondered, opening the internet app on his phone as he lay in the dark of his room. It seemed possible, as he scrolled through various recipes. He wasn’t sure what Rei’s baking skills were like, but he decided two different cupcake flavors wouldn’t be too hard... hopefully?

Before closing his weary eyes, he sent Rei the two cupcake recipes he’d found, along with a message: What about these? He quickly plugged his phone into the bedside charger and dozed off.

The next day Shinji stood awkwardly in Rei’s small kitchen as she busied herself taking out all the ingredients they’d need for cupcakes. Her apartment was in an adjacent dorm building, and instead of sharing her space with roommates, it was just a small studio.

This was the second friend’s living space Shinji had ever been in, and it made him appreciate Kaworu’s studio much more. In contrast to Kaworu’s cozy, well lived-in apartment, Rei’s space was rather cold and bare. It wasn’t terribly dirty, but Shinji was pretty sure she’d cleaned up specifically for him. Rei seemed to only have the things she needed , and creature comforts such as a TV or books must’ve been deemed unnecessary by her. Besides the small kitchenette there was a desk with nothing but a laptop visible, a twin bed with plain white sheets, a music stand and a stack of repertoire books in the corner, and a bathroom appointed with all of 3 products present. 

Still, he appreciated the effort Rei had clearly made for him as they entered her apartment that evening with the groceries for ingredients she hadn’t already had on hand.

“Apologies, I only have a convection oven, so we’ll only be able to make a few cupcakes at a time,” Rei said as she grabbed her laptop and pulled up the recipes Shinji had sent her the night before.

“What are we making first?” she asked.

Shinji suddenly realized with horror that he’d never baked anything before in his entire life, and it must’ve shown on his face, because Rei laughed at his expression.

“Right, I’ll take the lead, okay?” she said with a reassuring smile.

Shinji breathed out a grateful, “Thank you,” and, at Rei’s instruction, began measuring all the dry ingredients into a bowl on a scale.

“My grandmother taught me how to bake,” Rei said quietly as she assembled a worn hand mixer. “She was the only person that I ever felt actually understood me. Well, until you.”

Shinji flinched, almost dropping the bag of flour he was tipping into the bowl. Rei and Kaworu had a way of saying things that shouldn’t be said so casually, without any noticeable embarrassment. Shinji breathed out raggedly and resumed his measuring.

Thankfully, Rei hadn’t seemed to notice his momentary panic, instead beginning to whip a softened stick of butter with the beaters. It was all so... domestic, the two of them baking together, side-by-side on a Wednesday evening. Shinji’s anxiety about his next recital, his plans to rehearse with Kaworu (and not disappoint him), as well as falling behind in his coursework that week, had been creeping up on him. Yet, here he was, thinking only of measuring flour, baking powder, and salt, while his friend whipped together wet ingredients beside him.

Peaceful, he realized. The word he had been searching for to describe this moment was peaceful.

After preparing the base mix, Rei divided it evenly into two bowls and left Shinji with the task of brewing a very strong cup of Earl Grey tea.

"Earl Grey has a subtle flavor," she explained, heating baking chocolate over the stove. "You really need to pack it in when baking with it, or it won't come through."

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you could bake," Shinji chuckled.

"I don’t do it as often as I’d like these days, unfortunately. But I’d be happy to do this again with you. I prefer baking for others, anyway," she smiled warmly at him, and Shinji couldn’t help but feel surprised. Here she was, putting herself out there again, making an effort to make plans—with him of all people.

What did Kaworu and Rei see in him that he couldn’t see in himself?

Soon, the first batch of chocolate cakes filled Rei’s small convection oven. With no proper place to sit, Shinji took a seat at the desk while Rei settled on the bed. The oven, smaller than a typical one, would take about twenty minutes per batch, and they had four to go. Neither of them seemed to know what to do next, and an awkward silence settled over the tiny apartment.

Finally, Shinji spoke. "Well, looks like we have a while to wait. Mind if I do some schoolwork? I'm still catching up from being sick."

Rei smiled. "Not at all. I might practice for a bit, though, if it’s not too disruptive."

"Please!" Shinji said, grinning. For most musicians, practicing in front of others wasn’t common, and especially for someone like Rei, he was surprised she even offered.

Group rehearsals were one thing, but solo practice was when you truly worked on your repertoire, and it could sound pretty rough at times. For Rei to practice in front of him felt like a big step, and he welcomed the background music as he pulled out his laptop and set it on the desk.

When the first twenty minute timer sounded, Shinji helped Rei take out the first batch of cakes and load the last three of the chocolate flavor for another twenty minutes. Despite the small, unconventional baking vessel, the cakes smelled just as good as if they’d come from a professional bakery. Shinji inhaled the rich scent deeply while Rei inspected the doneness.

“Perfect! We won’t be able to ice them tonight, but if you come by tomorrow morning we can finish them up, you don’t have class until 10 correct?”

“Yeah, I’ll come by around 9, if that’s okay.”

"Sounds good," Rei replied. She returned to her practice corner and resumed playing, while Shinji quietly tapped away at his laptop. By the end of the next hour, Rei’s apartment smelled absolutely delicious, and her small counter hosted an army of Earl Grey and chocolate cupcakes. 

WIth a satisfied grin at his handiwork, Shinji hoisted his cello and backpack and, as he exited Rei’s apartment, he looked back with a small wave.

“See you tomorrow!” he grinned.

Rei returned the wave with a warm smile of her own, closing the door. Turning to the adjacent dorm building, Shinji thought simply, This was a nice day.  

Chapter Text

The next morning Rei and Shinji took thirty minutes before Shinji’s first class to finish icing the cooled cupcakes. He was so proud of his, albeit clumsy, icing work that he even took some pictures of the finished products for himself. Rei agreed to keep the cupcakes until Shinji could get Kaworu and Kensuke in his dorm, hopefully later that evening, and they could be surprised at the same time.

Leaving for class that morning, he texted Kaworu about beginning to rehearse the Rachmaninoff that evening. While that was partly an excuse to get Kaworu close to the dorms, they’d also planned to begin working together earlier that week but postponed due to Shinji’s fever. However, his excitement over the surprise was quickly diminished by Kaworu’s response.

Kaworu: Sorry, I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. Want to meet up to practice instead of study tomorrow?

Shinji let out a deflated sigh. Was it just him, or was Kaworu becoming busier? Before he could stop himself, his mind wandered to how this could impact his recital. Was it a mistake asking Kaworu to be my accompanist? Has he even been rehearsing the repertoire over the last few weeks? Shinji knew he shouldn’t doubt Kaworu—after all, the pianist had never let him down before—but here he was, worrying about himself again. He pocketed his phone, unable to find the right words to reply, and continued heading to class.

It wasn’t just Shinji who was starting to worry about his accompanist’s ability to follow through. That afternoon, as he sat in Misato’s office for his second lesson of the week, she frowned with concern after Shinji mentioned that he still hadn’t rehearsed with Kaworu.

“Shinji… I don’t want to question your choice of pianist, but…” She hesitated, and Shinji could already tell where she was going with this. “Maybe you should reconsider your partner. I mean… he’s a student too, right? He might just be too busy.”

Shinji stared down at his cuticles, picking at them with intense focus, unable to meet Misato’s gaze. I can trust Kaworu. He’ll pull through. He will. Shinji thought determinedly. Kaworu was the first person in his life he truly felt he could rely on, and he refused to let his own doubts, or anyone else’s, shake his faith in his friend.

Finally, he spoke, “I’ll check with him tomorrow to make sure he’s still comfortable with this, but… he’s a really amazing pianist, Ms. Misato. I believe we can make up for this week’s lack of rehearsals!”

Misato’s stern expression softened into a smile. “Such confidence… Alright, I’ll try to put my faith in this guy too. Say, what did you do with the Shinji from the beginning of the semester?!” she laughed, and Shinji’s face turned bright red.

“Ms. Misato, please, you’re so embarrassing, jeez…” Shinji chided, but he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at the compliment.

Have I really changed? Shinji wondered as he made his way to Rei’s place to pick up Kensuke’s cupcakes—having reluctantly decided to present them separately from Kaworu’s. Just a few months ago, he never would’ve dreamed of baking surprise cupcakes for people who had actually taken care of him when he was sick, or asking Kaworu to accompany him as his pianist, or even going to karaoke with a group of friends. If that wasn’t change, what was? Don’t think into it too much, that never gets you anywhere good, he reminded himself, reaching Rei’s apartment door and knocking softly.

When Rei answered, Shinji all but yelped in surprise. She was in nothing but a towel.

“Shinji. Come in,” she said with her soft smile she seemed only to reserve for him.

Shinji gawked at her, before quickly pushing her back into her apartment and practically slamming the door behind him.

“W-Where are your clothes??” he asked frantically, trying to find something else to look at, eventually settling on a gray scuff on an adjacent wall.

“I was in the shower.”

“Yes, that’s obvious!” Shinji practically yelled, “I c-could’ve waited until you changed you know?!”

“Oh. Sorry,” she answered simply, and turned to, hopefully, change into something a little more modest than a towel. Shinji followed her to the kitchen, before he turned away to stare a hole into the front door, giving Rei at least some modicum of privacy as she clothed herself.

“I’m dressed,” she said, after a moment of shuffling behind Shinji, which he’d tried desperately not to think about.

“Do you have a habit of answering doors in the nude?” He asked incredulously, as he turned back to her, with a ragged sigh.

“Sorry, no one comes to my place, so I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“Well, if I come over to bake something again and you’re in your underwear or something, I’m leaving!” Shinji exclaimed. Rei stared at him in confusion for a moment before she began to laugh.

“What now??” Shinji asked in exasperation, he wasn’t sure how much more embarrassment he could take.

“I-I’m sorry,” Rei managed through her laughter, “Just-aha… your face!”

He was at a loss for words now, instead just gaping at her in a mix of anger, embarrassment, and confusion, which seemed not to help the situation, because she just continued to laugh. Finally, her laughter died down, with a few last chuckles still bubbling up.

“It’s just that… this is all new to me. I didn’t even think about it distressing you. I’m so used to only being around my family,” she said, wiping away the tears that had gathered from laughing so hard. “Sorry, seriously. I’ll try to remember that answering the door in a towel isn’t normal.” She chuckled again, and this time, Shinji couldn’t help but join in.

“No, no, it is not! Now, where are the cupcakes? Are you coming with me to eat them with my roommates? They should both be home by now!”

“And Kaworu?”

Shinji looked at his feet, trying and failing to mask his disappointment.

“He’s busy.”

Rei simply hummed in acknowledgment, separating the chocolate cupcakes onto their own plate, away from the Earl Grey ones. She paused, staring at the cakes for a long moment after they were moved. Shinji was about to ask if everything was okay, but she answered his unspoken question before he could.

“Do you… want to talk about Kaworu? You seem… upset,” she said carefully, as though the words were unfamiliar to her.

Shinji blinked. So far, Kaworu had been the only person Shinji felt comfortable enough to open up to, but it wasn’t like he could talk to Kaworu about Kaworu. Did Rei really want him to confide in her, or was she just being nice? Would he be burdening her with his problems? A wave of anxious “what ifs” flooded his mind in that brief moment of confusion as he stared at her. After a pause, uncertain, he finally broke the silence.

“It’s really nothing. It’s just that…well, I feel like he’s always trying to help with my problems but whenever I try to do the same… he just… pushes me away.”

Rei was silent for a long moment, and if it were anyone else, Shinji would’ve likely asked them if they were okay, but he’d learnt Rei was simply very deliberate with her words. Sometimes she took a while to vocalize her thoughts, so he waited.

“I don’t have much experience in friendship,” she began slowly, “But… whatever his reasons are for not talking to you, he’s still hurting you.”

She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and stared at him intently, as if trying to send her words through Shinji’s skull and directly into his over-active brain.

“I think you need to tell him that. Tell him you want to be there for him, and he’s not protecting you by choosing to close himself off.”

Shinji’s heart skipped a beat. Just like Kaworu, she had an earnestness about her that stole his breath away. A warm surge filled his chest, and without thinking, he mirrored her hand on his shoulder with his own.

“Thanks Rei… I-I think I really needed to hear that.”

After a moment radiant appreciation in each other, their hands fell back to their sides and Rei picked up the plate of cupcakes.

“Shall we?”

Between Shinji, Rei, Toji, and Kensuke, the cupcakes hadn’t lasted more than twenty minutes. There were six chocolate ones, and since they were for Kensuke, he got two for himself, while the last one was split among the other three. Shinji had been surprised by how good they tasted, and he must have complimented Rei at least five times as they ate. By the time they’d all finished, their mouths rimmed with chocolate frosting, they had been talking and laughing boisterously—even Rei, though she was quieter than the rest.

Another surprisingly good day, despite his worries about Kaworu, Shinji thought as he entered the practice room where his quartet members were waiting that Friday afternoon. Mari was late, which, as they had learned, was a usual occurrence. She tended to be a minimum of ten minutes late to everything, but strangely enough, Asuka seemed to let it slide. Shinji was fairly sure that if he or Rei were regularly late to practice, they would have long since been replaced—or at least chastised. His eyes narrowed as he considered Asuka’s possible, no—definite favoritism toward Mari.

“What?” she snapped at him.

“Nothing, nothing,” he replied, raising his hands in mock surrender, “Just… thinking about something.”

“Hmph, that’s a surprise, don’t hurt yourself now,” she retorted, but Shinji smirked when it seemed that curiosity got the best of her and she asked, “…Well, what were you thinking about then?”

“Depends. Who were you thinking about?”

Her eyes widened and cheeks went bright red, but before she could rip out Shinji’s throat, Mari walked in with a wide smile.

“Hey! How’s everyone doing today?”

“Fine,” Asuka eeked out in response, and Shinji snickered. Rei looked back and forth between them, clearly not understanding the unspoken parts of the conversation. Shinji made a note to explain what he had been seeing grow between the violinists later. Just because he was broken and didn’t like others like that, didn’t mean he couldn’t see the obvious signs.

Before Mari sat at the chair they’d set up for her, she turned to Shinji.

“So, uh, that pale guy from karaoke? He’s in the hallway. Said he wanted to talk to you.”

Shinji blinked. The last he’d heard from Kaworu was that they’d planned to rehearse tonight, but that wouldn’t be until after quartet practice, closer to 8 pm. Without hesitating, Shinji set his cello beside his chair and rose, glancing back at Rei, who gave him a meaningful look. He murmured a quiet "thanks" to Mari as he exited the practice room. Immediately, anxious thoughts began to swirl. What if something serious had happened, and Kaworu was coming to break the news? Maybe his mother had been injured, or maybe he was changing schools and was here to say goodbye forever… Shinji knew both of those scenarios were unlikely, but the fact that Kaworu had shown up unexpectedly couldn’t be a good sign, right?

Peeking his head around the door, Shinji saw that Kaworu was indeed waiting for him, leaning against the wall just like the day they'd met for lunch in the cafeteria. He was looking at his phone with a troubled expression, which quickly melted into a smile at the sound of Shinji’s footsteps.

“If it isn't my favorite cellist.”

“If it isn't my favorite pianist,” Shinji countered, feeling suddenly emboldened. Where'd that come from? It didn't matter where though, because seeing Kaworu's pale skin flush pink drove the embarassment clear from his mind. He chuckled.

“So... what are you doing here then? We haven't started quartet practice yet, so it'll be a while before we can rehearse.”

“Yeah I know...” Kaworu bit his lip, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

Something's up, Shinji thought, feeling the growing nervousness in his stomach. Maybe I should follow Rei's advice... tell him I want, no, I need him to open up. But Shinji bit back his questions. Standing outside a practice room with three other people waiting on him wasn't exactly the ideal time for a serious conversation. After a moment's hesitation, Kaworu finally spoke again.

“I, um... I don't know when I'm going to be able to see you perform with your quartet. So I figured, since we were meeting afterward, I could just come watch you play now? That is, if that's okay with everyone else!” He added swiftly.

Shinji cocked an eyebrow at him warily. Something’s up, he thought again. It almost sounded like Kaworu didn’t expect to ever see Shinji’s quartet perform. While all of their performances up until now had been private events, Shinji was sure there’d be a public one down the road that Kaworu could attend. Summer break usually meant performances in parks, and winter typically brought free holiday shows… but instead of questioning the pianist, Shinji poked his head back around the doorway to the practice room.

Immediately, Asuka answered his unspoken question with an annoyed, “Yes, he can watch! Just hurry up and get back in here, we don’t have all night, stupid.”

Shinji turned back to Kaworu with a grin, but was met with a rather sad smile. He wanted to reach out to Kaworu, to ask why he seemed so down tonight… and just, in general, but before he could, Asuka called again.

“If we could practice tonight, please?!”

Shinji rolled his eyes, and Kaworu giggled quietly. With that, they returned to the practice room, and Kaworu took a seat in the corner.

Throughout the rehearsal, Shinji tried to keep his focus on the sheet music in front of him, but he found himself unable to stop stealing glances at the pianist. Of course, Kaworu had chosen to sit directly in his line of sight. He did that on purpose, Shinji thought wryly. For the next two hours, every time Shinji's gaze would snap up from his music stand to the pianist, those dark red eyes would briefly meet his, and Shinji would quickly look away, trying not to lose his place in the piece.

His distraction was obvious to Asuka, who chastised him at every opportunity between passages.

“Shinji, you were flat in this section.”

“Shinji, you were rushing here.”

“Verdammt! Shinji, can you please pay attention?!”

“Huh,” Shinji responded absentmindedly, turning back to Asuka. “I-I’m paying attention!”

She audibly groaned at him and smacked the top of his head with her bow.

“If you're paying attention then I'm the emperor of Japan,” Mari chimed in, eliciting a too-loud giggle from Asuka.

“Whatever, look, let’s just call it for tonight... we're not getting much of anywhere with this boy over here,” Asuka spat, and Shinji heard a soft giggle from the corner where Kaworu was sitting. Wow, this is embarrassing, he thought, wishing the ground would just swallow him whole. How the heck am I supposed to concentrate with Kaworu staring at me like I'm the only person to have ever existed?! That would distract anyone, surely.

With a huff, Shinji packed up his instrument and bid everyone a goodnight as Kaworu stood to leave with him.

“I reserved a practice room just down the hall for the next two hours, if that's okay. You guys sound great... I wish I could see you play a proper gig,” Kaworu said, leading Shinji down the hall to their small room.

“Why are you making it sound like you know you'll never hear us outside of practice?” Shinji asked, forcing a laugh to mask the concern in his voice.

“Oh... sorry, yeah, I'm sure I will...” Kaworu replied, but his voice sounded robotic, hollow.

“Kaworu, are you okay?” Shinji asked cautiously as Kaworu entered their practice room.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah... I'm good.”

The pianist smiled softly and sat at the upright piano against one of the walls. Shinji sighed defeatedly as he began setting up his own instrument, remembering Rei’s words. I need to tell him how I’m feeling... But if he did tell Kaworu how worried and frustrated he’d been, about the pianist’s lack of openness, would it damage their friendship? Would Kaworu resent him for being unable to just let things go? Shinji swallowed thickly. Just let him be, I’ll be okay, he finally decided.

He could do that. He’d done it his whole life—bury the negative emotions and not do anything to jeopardize this relationship. Kaworu’s friendship was more valuable than Shinji’s own need to know what was going on in his friend's life. Clearly, Kaworu didn’t want his help, and Shinji just needed to accept that.

Just as he was about to begin the rehearsal he remembered something.

“Cupcakes!” Shinji exclaimed.

“Hmm?” Kaworu asked, inclining his head in confusion.

“Oh, I-I have something for you... if you don't mind stopping by the dorms after.”

Kaworu smiled cheekily, “Oh do you now? Alright, I suppose I can clear my schedule this evening.”

Shinji felt the blush creep into his cheeks, and tried to ignore that weird flipping feeling in his stomach, as they began to practice.

Returning to the dorms, Shinji led Kaworu, not to his own apartment, but to Rei’s. He’d texted her as they left the practice hall to make sure she was okay with the two of them coming by to retrieve the rest of the cupcakes. As always, she’d replied with her classic thumbs up.

Kaworu gave Shinji a confused look as they approached a different dorm building.

“Where are we going...? Are you planning on kidnapping me?”

For some reason, that statement caused Shinji to choke on his own spit. He coughed violently as Kaworu laughed.

“Jeez, why do you always have to say weird stuff like that...” Shinji said once he regained his breath.

Kaworu just shrugged, but the playful glint in his eyes said it all.

Arriving at Rei’s door, it occurred to Shinji, Will Kaworu be okay with this being Rei’s place? The only interaction the two of them had previously didn’t exactly go well… but it was too late to turn back now, and they could just pick up the cupcakes and leave anyway. It was late, and he doubted Rei was planning to have them stay to eat at her place. He knocked, and a few moments later, Rei answered, wearing some baggy pajamas.

“Shinji, Kaworu, good evening,” Rei said in her flat monotone. No soft smile, Shinji realized.

“Sorry it’s so late, I should’ve thought to grab them before quartet rehearsal!” Shinji said brightly as he entered the apartment. Kaworu seemed reluctant to follow but did so after a moment, standing awkwardly in the doorway while Shinji went to the kitchen. Rei followed suit, standing quietly in the space between the kitchenette and the living/bedroom. Shinji grabbed the disposable plate that held six small tan-colored cupcakes with white frosting and presented them to Kaworu.

“Tada!! For taking care of me while I was sick... they’re Earl Grey flavored. I hope that’s alright.”

Kaworu gaped at him. The stone-faced expression he had a moment before shifted into one of shock.

“You made these... for me?” he finally managed.

“Of course! I mean, Rei helped, she’s the baking expert,” Shinji giggled, glancing back at Rei, who smiled.

Kaworu gingerly took the plate from Shinji and uncovered the edge to inhale the smell of the cupcakes.

“Wow, these smell great. How’d you know I like Earl Grey?”

“Just like you with the cassette, I notice things,” Shinji replied. He didn’t know where this confidence was coming from, but Kaworu’s reactions were worth any price—he seemed at a loss for words now.

“Thank you, Shinji... this is really, really something special.”

After a moment, Kaworu looked over Shinji’s shoulder at Rei. “And thank you too.”

Shinji beamed. This had been a step in the right direction for these two, apparently. He made a mental note of it. They left one cupcake for Rei to enjoy and headed toward Shinji’s dorm building.

Kaworu stopped Shinji before he started heading up to his dorm, handing him his own cupcake.

“Thank you for these... I needed them. I’ll text you to schedule our next rehearsal, okay?” Kaworu said softly. His voice was so gentle, so full of appreciation, that it made Shinji’s chest hurt.

“Okay,” he replied softly. They stared at each other quietly for a moment, as if trying to convey all the unspoken issues and feelings they seemed to have. Then, Kaworu turned and headed for the station.

The next couple of weeks leading up to Shinji’s second recital were, quite literally, hell on earth. Between philharmonic, chamber, quartet, and recital practice, Shinji barely made time for anything else. Once again, he became a ghost around his roommates, barely uttering two words as he entered their apartment every night, practically asleep on his feet. He wasn’t failing out of his academic classes yet, but his grades had certainly slipped into the ‘slightly below average’ range. Once again, he found himself wondering how he'd manage to make it through another 3.5 years of this without suffering a mental breakdown... oh wait, no, he'd already been experiencing those in the form of his panic attacks. Since the Setagaya Library nearly a month ago, surprisingly, he hadn’t had another attack, though he'd come close a few times.

At the most recent quartet job they’d gotten, some kind of ritzy benefit, Shinji had seen someone in the crowd who he could’ve sworn was his father, and he nearly fled the venue if it hadn’t been for Asuka, yet again, calming him down with her harsh, but meaningful, words. Another panic attack nearly happened during a rehearsal with Kaworu when Shinji simply couldn’t get a portion of the Rachmaninoff piece right. Frustration turned to fear and racing thoughts, as he worried he'd never be able to get this part down. He’d ruin his recital, make a fool of himself, and be expelled from the school, and his father would disown him. As all the anxious thoughts flooded his mind and his breathing began to quicken, he didn’t even notice that Kaworu had turned to face him and started massaging his hands, just like he'd done in the bathroom before Shinji’s first recital.

“Breathe Shinji, you're okay. Just breathe,” he'd repeated softly.

Shinji tried to ignore his confused, frustrated feelings that night after he and Kaworu went their separate ways. Why can he calm me down when I need him most but won’t let me do the same for him? He’d resolved to leave Kaworu be—to ignore his own feelings about their rather one-sided relationship—but still, he couldn’t seem to control these frustrated thoughts. Why can't I just be happy to have a friend this close to me? Why do I always want more?

Well, Shinji would be lying to himself if he said he was only concerned for Kaworu’s well-being. The truth of the matter was that it was becoming harder to find time to meet with the pianist too. He’d noticed that Kaworu occasionally hadn’t been available over the past couple of months, but that was relatively normal... The weeks leading up to his recital, however, it seemed like he had only been around during the week, and even then, not every day—which had Shinji increasingly worried about the Rachmaninoff. In the days leading up to his recital, he'd taken a recording of the piece from start to finish and, while they’d sounded serviceable, he couldn’t deny the resentment building toward Kaworu because he knew they would’ve sounded better if the pianist had been more available.

But it was too late to do anything about that now, as the recording finished and Misato leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable.

“Well, what do you think?” Misato asked slowly.

Shinji hesitated. He didn’t want to blame Kaworu, but... well, he had to be honest.

“I think... I think we sound alright, but,” he paused, letting out a sigh, “Well, I also think Kaworu bit off more than he could chew by agreeing to accompany me. I—I wanted to trust that he could handle this, but... I can't help but think I'd be in a better position if I had chosen to work with Dr. Akagi.”

Misato hummed, considering Shinji’s words for a moment.

“Well, there’s nothing you can do about it now... but for the record, I think you two do sound pretty good, especially given the lack of rehearsals together. And at the end of the day, this is your recital. Your choice of pianist won’t be judged, and you sound good, Shinji, seriously. This is a hard piece, and I think you’re killing it!”

Shinji felt a soft smile creep onto his face.

“Thanks, Ms. Misato... I guess all I can do now is hope I can sound this good tomorrow...”

“I guess so,” she said, returning his smile. “Now, why don't we start working on that one passage you've been struggling with—oh, wait I meant to ask you about this first! So it's...” She cleared a pile of papers scattered over the laptop on her desk and opened it up. “Let’s see... it’s Tuesday now, okay, yes, there’s another week and a half of school left before the break. Still planning on staying with me?” She looked up with an excited grin.

“Uh...” Shinji had completely forgotten about his summer break living situation. Did they really have to talk about this now? He just wanted to finish the lesson and get home to seclude himself in his room until his recital tomorrow afternoon. His stomach growled in anxious agreement with that thought.

“Y-yeah, that’s the plan, I suppose,” he mumbled.

“Cool, cool. Just wanted to make sure. Since this will be our last lesson until next semester... you have my number, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I think you gave it to me at the beginning of the year.”

“Awesome! Ugh, I’m so excited, Shinji! It’ll be like reliving my own college summer vacations. Bath houses, yakiniku nights, I can’t wait!” She giggled girlishly, and Shinji couldn’t help but think, Who’s the real adult here? Still, as much as he appreciated, and possibly regretted, Misato opening her home to him for the summer, he had more pressing matters to focus on.

Just get through this practice, get home, get an early night's rest, meet up with Kaworu tomorrow morning for more rehearsal, and get through the recital. He told himself. Like it was just that easy. He wasn't feeling the same nerves he'd felt for his first recital some months ago now, but that wasn't to say they wouldn't show up, with ten-fold intensity, tomorrow. He took a steadying breath. He could do this, and once it was done, that'd be one less thing on Kaworu's plate. They could get back to visiting museums, and Kaworu teaching Shinji piano, and Friday night study sessions. And maybe then... maybe Kaworu could tell Shinji what had been going on with him this semester...?

Ugh! One thing at a time, Shinji.

For now, he unpacked his cello in front of Misato and began to work on the Rachmaninoff.