She hates keeping secrets.

She has never been the one for subtlety; that's Shinji's strong point. He is the one to be diplomatic, the one who always tries to appease anyone and everyone.

She is the one who makes everything go to hell. She will yell and shout, say she's being honest when in reality she is being rude, but it mainly because she can't stand secrets.

Like watching him from afar; the walls of their apartments a natural barrier that stops her from throwing her arms around him. She hates it when he walks next to her and she has to pretend he doesn't exist, when in reality all she wants is to hug him and kiss him right then and there. She hates the look of helplessness he gives her when he has to go with the other stooges, leaving her to walk back home by herself. (But before the end of the day he will be groveling for her forgiveness, and after making him sweat a bit, she will kiss him, softly whispering, "I forgive you" into his lips.)

But in the meantime, as she sees him being led away, as his eyes whimper what his voice cannot say, as the cold air bites her legs as she slowly walks all alone back to her apartment to spend a lonely afternoon with the TV as her only companion, she can't help but feel angry, and wipe away a lonely tear.

She hates keeping secrets, especially when it's him the secret she has to keep.

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She loves it when he feels the need to be close.

Anyone passing them on the street will notice this; from the way she pulls him along, making sure that their hands are together, and suddenly breaking off, teasing him along the way, walking in step and suddenly breaking of into a runner's wild chase.

He will groan and moan calling her childish and spoiled, complaining about her nitpicking, but always, always keeping close to her, almost within arms reach, always in sight (and his eyes will look at her full of adoration)

Anyone watching them on the train ride back will hide an amused, pleased smile, a half smirk of sorts as they watch them go thru the motions of a couple not being a couple; a lovely couple every one but themselves can see is in the making.

He will catch the person looking but not looking and not say a word; but he will grip her hand tightly (yet gently as to not hurt her) as the car speeds up; the sun reflected on the iron rails and the water and the glasses, the green and the golden hues quickly mixing themselves as the speed past them.

And he makes sure that his presence is shielding her from the glare and the occasional sudden stop; his body pressed against her, his hand circling her waist, his chin resting on the soft curve of where her shoulder meets her neck.

She needs to be next to him, because she loves the closeness that is he.