The counselors back in high school were right— college is much, much better than high school.

Only there for a few weeks, Shinji had already made two new good friends who even have similar interests with him, liked all his teachers, and honestly enjoyed the city where the university was. Though his depression was still there, along with an overall feeling of alienation, things seemed to be a lot better than they used to be. Of course, not being near his father helped with that…

The sun had begun to set, and Shinji lugged his cello down the steps to the subway. Public transport was a thing he had just began to use recently to travel. Before, he'd lug his bag and instrument three blocks to school and back, and he did not appreciate the extra attention.

"Missed the train again…" he mumbled to himself as he checked the arrival board, then leaned up against the wall. It'd be a ten minute wait until the next train.

However, even here he could feel eyes on him, like the extra attention he'd get wheeling the cello around on the street. The boy glanced over, catching sight of a white haired boy, about his own age, sitting up against the wall on the floor. A striking orange bike was locked to a steel beam, and there were two dirty back packs next to it.

Shinji noticed the bike was what was known as a fixie. His father worked a lot on mechanics, which was how he could tell. No brakes, and only one gear. He frowned some.

I guess he has some sort of death wish..

It took a moment for him to realize the cyclist had been staring at him nonstop the whole time, and smiling too. Shinji didn't have much experience with the homeless, and just hoped he wouldn't talk to-

"What's your cello's name?"

Shinji blinked, not sure how to even address that. "A-Are you talking to me?"

The cyclist on the ground chuckled. "Well, there's no one else here with a cello, I think."

The boy on the floor was scruffy looking, his white hair overgrown and frizzy and white collared shirt dirty around the sleeves and pocket. His jeans were torn and shoes looked like they've been around for years now. Piercing scarlet eyes contrasted with dirtied pale skin, and his voice was soft, almost soothing.

Shinji furrowed his brow, looking down at his instrument. "Uh, I didn't know I was supposed to name it, so I guess it doesn't have one yet. Sorry."

The cyclist raised a brow. "No need to apologize. My name's Kaworu. You took the north train yesterday, I saw you miss the train. You looked a little afraid and nervous. You're new to the city, I'm guessing?"

This guy hadn't stopped looking at him since he came down the steps. Shinji kept his eyes on the wall and floor, surprised by the sudden conversation like this. "Yeah, I'm a freshmen in the university." A pause. "Are you a student too?" Certainly he was old enough to be.

Kaworu finally broke eye contact, his smile faltering a little. "No. You see, capitalism keeps me from that." He grinned again as the lights from the upcoming train lit up the station, illuminating the shiners and metal of his bike as well. "I'll see you around then."

Happy to get away (although this new character had a weird allure to him), the student gave a weak wave and scuttled over to the train and got on. Kaworu sighed and laid over on his side.