Disclaimer: I don't own Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Radiation Sickness

Written in January of 2008

He was awake, staring at the ceiling and then at the wall and then at the clothed back of Shinji Ikari. The first night he had talked in his sleep, soft murmurs of things Kaworu hadn't been able to make out. He had watched, eyes bright in the darkness and breathing stilled, and hadn't dared to wake him. This last night he had tangled their limbs - chest-to-back, mouth on the crook of his neck, fingers clasped loosely in the other's and with one hand around his slim waist - but had fallen asleep too soundly to wake up at his classmate's humorous reaction in the morning.

When he did rouse it was to the brunet lethargically brushing his teeth, eyes downcast, refusing to look at the dingy bathroom mirror that sat beside him on the wall. Kaworu paused, one hand on the smooth wooden frame of the half-open shoji screen and the other at his side, before passing the boy on and moving to the kitchen. He already missed the soft comfort of his bed.

"I'm going to school today, Ikari-kun. I can't afford to skip any longer." He received no reply, but that was expected. His temporary roommate had done nothing for the few days that he had been here save stare off into the distance and sigh in a depressingly melancholic way. He changed into a clean uniform, the white shirt and black pants of First Hiroshima Prefectural slightly wrinkled, and left without saying goodbye.

He had just reached campus grounds when there was a bright flash of white that completely lit up the sky, soundless in its terror. True, the air raid alarm had just gone off, but that noise had become far too common in Japan's time of war and he had dismissed it as nothing. Kaworu had one thought – Shinji – before he was thrown into the air by a tremendous pressure and slammed into the concrete wall of the building next to him.

When he regained consciousness he was bleeding, and it seemed as if he had been burned even though there was no fire in the immediate area. He looked around with some confusion towards his surroundings. It looked as if a bomb had fallen, for everything was destroyed and he could hear the cries of his wounded classmates all around, but he couldn't think about that right now. Where was Shinji? Still at home? Kaworu was horribly thirsty, but he had to find the boy. He wouldn't be able to deal with this, not when he was still recovering from the shock of that Ayanami girl dying in a bombing raid. He took the first of steps forward, heading towards where he thought Ikari to be. He had stayed home again today, so he was probably safe.

His arms hurt, his legs hurt, and he was bruised from the impact. His clothes were ripped and torn, and he was bleeding from where he had been scratched when lying unconscious on the ground. The landscape had changed and everything around him had degenerated, and he choked for a moment, seeing the disfigured face of one of his classmates among the dead.

When he reached his former residential area he realized that the trunks of trees were snapped and broken, and those few that remained were partially burnt in that same, strange direction that pointed towards what was possibly the center of Hiroshima. The tall metal poles that had once held telephone wires had collapsed upon the ground, and there was broken glass everywhere he looked.

The only buildings he could see that were not completely demolished were those that had been made of concrete, such as the elementary school that was half a mile away from where he currently stood and the high school building that he had been next to when the bomb had struck. Based on what he had noticed both here and there, those of concrete were only partially collapsed with most of the damage being cracks in the walls and pillars. Even the bridge that he normally took back and forth from school to home had been horribly dilapidated, the railings crumbling and skewed. Large cracks had been in the structure itself and he had been afraid to walk upon it in order to reach where he now was.

Kaworu stood there silently, looking for any signs of life from within what was once his home. It was completely destroyed. Cracked and splintered wood beams had fallen everywhere, and the shingled roof had collapsed. What was once a wooden house was now entirely leveled. The area stunk of ash and flame and rotting flesh, and he could not move. Everything was gone, and there… There was no way that Shinji… He whipped around, glancing towards every shadow and cry of pain he could hear. He must have gotten out because he couldn't be dead, he couldn't be dead….

Finally to his immense relief, he spotted what he knew to be his friend. He was scratched and bleeding, clothing torn, but he didn't seem to be seriously injured. Kaworu called out to him cautiously but he didn't move, forcing him to walk around and see him face-to-face. There were people everywhere suffering and dying, but they didn't matter. It was only Ikari that he cared about, and to see him suffering…

"I hate you." It was a mere whisper, so much so that he had to strain in order to hear.
"Ikari – "
"I hate you!" He took a step back, stumbling over the scattered debris that lay on the ground around them. Shinji had told him earlier that he was only staying at Kaworu's house because he was the only one who was not grieving over Ayanami. Because if he went anywhere else they would pretend to be cheerful and would try to raise his spirits, which would only make him feel the loss more keenly. The two of them had been friends, and Kaworu wanted to be friends too, because Shinji…

"If I have to go through the pain of losing a friend again," he continued miserably, staring at the ash the covered the space all around them, "then I'd rather not make any friends in the first place." He sounded suspiciously close to tears. Kaworu felt nauseous, but whether that was an effect of his words or the effect of the shock of earlier he couldn't say.

He turned, and threw up on the ground.

"Shinji-kun…" He grimaced at the sound of his own voice, but all the same the other boy flinched away. He wouldn't listen to him, even now that he was on the brink of death? That was surely what it was, for he had taken on a frightening pallor and he constantly felt weak and dizzy. His nose was bleeding, a stark contrast against the near glow of his paper-white skin - the bright red liquid covering his shaking hands had started flowing what seemed like hours ago, and was unstoppable - and he still had yet to properly see a doctor. But then again, it wasn't as if it would do him any good. The makeshift hospital had run out of all materials long ago and now all that could be done was to fetch water for the wounded.

Horror was all around them, cries of "Sensei, tasukete kudasai!" and complaints of fever, the sound of retching, the stench of burnt flesh and rotting bodies. But he had gotten used to it. It had been one week, maybe two, since the mysterious event that had turned the city of Hiroshima to ash. The building had been so crowded when they first reached it that the closest place they had found to rest was still four blocks away from the actual structure.

They had seen a girl named Asuka, once. She was a classmate of Shinji's and her eye had been pierced by a piece of glass. She had worn a blank expression, wandering around in silent contemplation, and hadn't uttered a word.

The burns on his arms had started to heal, but now there was a strange rubbery scar on some parts of his skin. He tried to smile at Shinji, who was sitting next to him, but he got no response.

"I'm going to miss you." He said, looking at the sky. Nothing was interesting anymore and so his gaze quickly shifted to study the ground. His friend was silent, but he knew what he was thinking. What are you talking about?

"I'm going to die." Nagisa continued, lips quirking up at the thought. Ikari seemed as if he was going to protest, but still he kept quiet. "So will you be my friend?"

He wasn't hungry, and hadn't been for a while, so it wasn't a surprise that the same was true for this moment. Shinji said he had a fever, for the first time letting the worry creep into his voice, and in a way he was glad that his earlier statement was true. Ritsuko-san, a staff member from the hospital they were resting by, had finally been to see the pale boy. She told them that it had been over four weeks since the disaster.

He was dying.

He kept vomiting even though he hadn't swallowed anything in days, and so all that came up was blood. His throat was raw. His burns itched uncomfortably and there was dirt on his pale skin, in his hair, in his mouth. He was too tired to even sit up, let alone clean it off. Kaworu had already fainted a number of times and the dizziness and nausea was unshakable. This could be my last day was the thought that plagued him each time he reached consciousness, and in a way he was thankful.

He wouldn't have to see Ikari's suffering anymore. He wanted him to be happy, to thrive and grow old and in time to forget all about this, but perhaps that was too much to ask. He wanted him to accept his death.

"Shinji, I love you." He said feebly, and almost had the strength to laugh at his reaction. For a moment Shinji was back to his old self, blushing and stammering and telling him not to ever address him like that again and gross, boys couldn't feel that for each other! But in the next he was gloomy and depressed, because he'd taken a good look at his friend lying on the ground and had realized yet again just how sick Kaworu was.

He wished he could believe in reincarnation.

"Are we friends?" He asked, hands lying still at his side, vision never clearing. He was getting light-headed again and he hoped that this torment wouldn't last much longer, because death was in the air and he felt almost as if he belonged.

"Yeah." Ikari mumbled, trailing a finger in the dirt. "We're friends."

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First Hiroshima Prefectural High School was 1.6km away from the hypocenter at the time of the blast.

Also, I don't know Japanese. So, uh, please don't yell at me if I messed up the "please help" phrase...?