Warnings for blood, gore, and character death

let me sleep by your side (anywhere is okay)

A Neon Genesis Evangelion One Shot

By: Aviantei

The first time, there wasn't all that much blood at all, which seemed strange, though it was perfectly natural. Blood didn't just go ahead and splatter everywhere at the slightest wound, not like it did in the movies. Those were exaggerations, made for dramatic effect. So that time, when he died, there was blood, yes, but oh so very little, because soon Unit 01 was opening its hand and both a head and body fell one at a time into murky water where there was no sign of any blood at all.

It didn't stop you from screaming, though. Your brain processed it before it had processed it, the truth and reality of the situation. You had lost someone, something so very precious, and there wasn't even anything to show for it, all evidence gone.

You howled.

You charged and shouted curse words and tried to fight the massive fucking robot right in front of you, and, without your own EVA to pilot, it wasn't any wonder who won that fight or what the outcome was going to be.

(You woke up from the nightmare, dismissed it as fantasy, then moved on, because there was school to attend and synch tests to take and work to do, and you didn't want to linger on it any longer. And so, the dream faded away, gone and forgotten before it was too late.)

The second time, there was much more blood, because the body was still there, and even more because it was right in front of you. Movies may be dramatizations made more impactful for the screen, but there was still a decent amount of blood in the human body (not enough to spray, but enough). Whenever a headless corpse fell, the heart would still beat out of instinct, and that blood leaked out, making a puddle. You sat there and stared at it, processing but not processing, all the way up until the blood tapped against your knees, staining your skin.

Warm, but growing colder.

Your friend, dead.

You shouldn't have cared. There was a reason for his death, after all. He was an enemy, one that you had been training to face. No matter if he was on your side up until now, he would have turned against you. It was now or never, and the Second Child's efficacy was a thing with no mercy. Unit 02 whirred, and off with his head, flung off somewhere in the distance with his body toppling forward, almost like he had been reaching for you.

His blood was not blue. It was red, human.

Dead.

The Second Child's voice, ferocious and unrelenting: "Don't make me kill you, too—"

But you did. You did make her kill you, because you didn't know what else to do.

(When you woke up from that dream, you almost vomited right onto the floor. You held it in all the way until the bathroom, and then you hurled right into the toilet, gagging up anything that had the misfortune of deciding to still be in your stomach. The aftertaste of your dinner mixed with the stomach acid plagued your mouth, no matter how many times you brushed your teeth. Or maybe that was the impression of blood washing over your tongue that you wanted to erase.

Only a dream, only a dream, you told yourself, but you didn't believe it, not until the memory slipped away in the mundanity of life, and then nightmares became a thing of the waking world, not just of sleep.)

The third time, there was blood everywhere, though not all of it was blood. Some of it was flesh, some of it was bone, some of it was brain, some of it was whatever the fuck else made up a human skull, but it was all red. The gore would have stuck to you, were it not for the AT field he generated, protecting (cutting off) you from himself. Even so, you reached out, pressed your hand into the red, felt it stick against your skin as you tried to sit his body back up, as if that would do any good. The dark slick covered his plugsuit, darkening the purple to an even deeper and unnamable color, and the choker sat in the mess it had made, black and unassuming amongst the gore of it all, and that felt correct, because it was the same level of dramatics you'd seen in movies, but at the same time it felt so wrong.

It wasn't this messy in the dream, you thought, like that was supposed to change anything. And then, It should have been me.

Because it should have been you. That was supposed to be your death, because you broke the rules. But without so much as an ounce of hesitation or a modicum of resistance since the idea shouldn't have been possible, he had reached over, plucking the choker from your neck as it beeped and placing it around his own with the most serene smile.

"They'll want me dead anyways," he'd said, like he knew it as the sole and single truth of the world. "You don't want to go through this."

"Fuck you," you'd said, trying to snatch the choker back, trying to stop this shit from happening again. "Fuck you, Nagisa, you don't get to—"

And then—boom—gone, nothing else to it except the bloodbloodblood and grief and the pain all the way up until you found the way to end yourself.

(Nagisa, you thought when you woke up, the name seeming much more important than anything else in that mess. Nagisa, who died whenever he lost his head. Nagisa, who was an Angel and a traitor and so kind that he would die for you. Nagisa, who you knew, because you'd talked with him before, and he just kept on dying, how many times had you had this dream—

You did your best not to forget, for what fucking good it did for you.)

Nagisa was the pretty boy with silver hair so bright it almost seemed like it was shining, his skin a pale tone that complimented it, and the deepest red eyes you'd ever seen, the color almost sparkling like jewels caught in the light. Nagisa was the strange boy who managed to be charming, no matter what awkward thing he might say. Nagisa was somehow your friend, though you suspected that last point was because you were both part of the program at NERV, which involved testing for compatibility with the Evangelion Units, and he was much better at it than you were, though you had more than passable results. It was just that he was a fucking prodigy, with some of the best synch rates possible, and there was no way to live up to that, so you didn't even try. What you could do was more than enough.

(Angel, you thought, remembering the dream. He's built of the same thing the EVAs are, of course he's good at it.

Angel. Enemy. The words didn't ever seem to stick.)

"Being with you reminds me of all the good things we're fighting for," he said once, on a gorgeous warm summer night with the moon hanging high in the sky, as if your planet hadn't become some apocalyptic wasteland. He gave you that smile, soft and unfairly beautiful. "Maybe you're what I'm fighting for," and then you'd had to stop yourself from blushing.

(Angel. Enemy.

The Nagisa in your dream, dead and headless but still protecting you.

Friend, you thought, unable to let it go.)

You and he both knew that wasn't what either of you were fighting for. Without the Evangelion Units, it would only be a matter of time before the Angels wiped out humanity, and no one wanted that. Well, the Angels wanted it, but in that case, why was Nagisa bothering to be on your side at all? Couldn't he just have waited on the sidelines and watched everything fall apart? Surely infiltrating NERV wasn't the best possible option.

(Enemy?)

(It was a dream; get over it.)

Except it didn't feel like it was just a dream. You'd been having nightmares about watching someone die for weeks before you ever met Nagisa, ever even learned about the Evangelion program or became the Sixth Child. Why would you have those dreams, if they didn't mean something?

And they did mean something, because the fourth time, there was so little blood. Oh, there was some, you could feel it seeping into your clothes, a hot and wet puddle atop your legs, but not as much as before, because his head was in your lap, those beautiful eyes now lifeless as you tried to understand what it was supposed to be, though you knew, you knew, because you'd processed it before you processed it, and it was the end of the line, Nagisa gone.

("Angel," you said, like that made any difference.)

You didn't die right after him, and you didn't try to die, either. You stayed in the robot, piloted the Evangelion all the way through to the end, until there he was again, Nagisa's face plastered over the enemy you were supposed to battle, and you couldn't fight that, so they tore you and Unit 09 apart.

(That next nightmare, in the dark of the night was the worst, and you turned the light on, trying to see that you were real, but it still hurt, and you didn't know if you meant your own experience or seeing Nagisa die all over again.)

The fifth time, blood, another puddle seeping into the ground, no head to be found.

The sixth time, the gore again, a mess, no AT Field to protect you.

The seventh time, blood, according to the Third Child, though it was washed from Unit 01 soon after.

The eighth time, no blood, because you were too much of a coward to watch.

"Nagisa," you said, under that same beautiful starry sky that you'd seen in your dreams so many times. Even so, it never stopped taking your breath away. "Why are you here, helping out NERV?"

It was the closest you had ever gotten to asking about it—about whether or not what you'd dreamt about was true. If Nagisa really was an Angel (Enemy), why bother with joining up at all? Infiltration was a conceivable option, yes, but your dreams showed that that never worked out, or maybe it did and you just didn't understand how it could be a victory if Nagisa was dead every time. Why do it, over and over and over again?

(They're just dreams, you told yourself, but that never seemed like it was true.)

"Why wouldn't I be here?" Nagisa asked, which wasn't an answer at all. Though, in the dim light available to you, you could tell that something in his face had tightened. It was gone the next second, though, replaced by that smile. "Maybe you're what I'm fighting for."

(You'd heard that line before, slipped into one of your dreams. Word for word, even. Was it a coincidence? With how many nightmares you were having as of late, you felt less convinced that such a thing was even possible. Correlation may not equal causation, but there had to be a limit to such happenstance.)

"Hey," Nagisa said, rolling over in the grass to face you, still beautiful even in his concern. "What's wrong?"

"I…" I think you might be an Angel. I think you might betray us. I keep having dreams where I watch you die, and I want to know what the hell is going on. None of those words came out, though, too caught in your throat. "I keep having nightmares, so I'm not sleeping too well. I'm tired."

"Ah." Such a gentle voice, just as pretty as the rest of him. "Then how about you get some sleep here? I'll be here if you need me when you wake up. How's that sound?"

You nodded, already feeling your eyes starting to drift shut. "Okay. Sounds…good…"

Even though you didn't have a single nightmare that night, you still couldn't hold back the flicker of disappointment you felt.

(But if he really were an Angel, why in the world would he tell you?)

Counting the dreams started to become too much. Oh, you could if you wanted to—that time, you wrote down when they happened, what they were. You could review the record to compare all the distinct scenarios you saw, see where they overlapped into something that had already happened. But you never looked over those notes. No, you wrote them down, in the hope of emptying all the sorrow out of your skull, trying to let it dissipate, but it never was enough.

So you stopped counting, at least, because if you ignored the number, you could at least act like it wasn't a problem anymore.

(The details stuck with you, though: blood, no blood, the kiss of gore on your lips. Death, the constant, life severed right at the neck.)

You did your best not to get attached to Nagisa. Sure, he was your fellow pilot, but that didn't mean you had to be friends. It seemed nice, to know that someone else understood what you were going through, getting into the plug at the center of the robot, but it wasn't necessary. If you kept dreaming about this boy dying, then maybe that was a sign not to get too attached. You would greet him, but never talk more than necessary; you'd ignore his invitations to lunch.

You'd try and fail to ignore the sadness you'd see touch over his expression, the fraction of hurt that you didn't respond to his advances. If you told him that he died over and over again in your dreams, would he understand why you didn't want to be around him?

(Funny how protecting yourself from the potential hurt was easier than thinking of him as the enemy.)

It wasn't easy, but it was possible. The nightmares didn't stop, but you still could move forward.

(It still hurt when he died.)

"Oh, good. I was worried you didn't want to talk to me."

Nagisa's worry was a strange thing. He knew the right things to say, even the right facial expressions and tone of voice, but something about them seemed stilted. Except in that moment, you could feel the genuine emotion under it, and you wondered why he was all that concerned in the first place.

Yes, you thought about avoiding the boy who died in your dreams, but you decided against it, because it wouldn't matter. You weren't sure what about it wouldn't matter, but it just didn't seem worth it. So, sitting next to him in the lunchroom it was.

"I was debating if you were safe to talk to," you said, and Nagisa's surprise was a strange yet genuine thing, too. "Anyone who willingly participates in this program can't be sane." Piloting giant robots with the risk of death involved at every turn? NERV was a madhouse—one necessary for humanity's survival, but its own hellscape, nonetheless.

Nagisa considered your words, not looking the slightest bit offended. "But I heard that you volunteered, too, Takanami."

"So I did." You looked back down to your lunch, your appetite feeling nonexistent. But without eating, you couldn't be at your best to pilot, and you didn't want to hear anyone bitching. You put the spoonful of curry into your mouth without tasting anything. "So I figured I didn't have much to worry about in that case."

Nagisa's laugh was musical, a tiny little chuckle that made your stomach flip over. Even if it weren't so rare, you suspected that you'd always have the same reaction. "Well, then, I'm glad to hear it."

("I'm glad," he said, squeezing your hands, right in the moment before both of your heads blew up, because you refused to let him go.)

Blood, no blood, blood, blood, no blood, blood, blood, blood, bloodbloodblood.

"Angel."

You had said the word without even thinking about it, and then you couldn't take it back. If nothing else, you were in the relative privacy of the outdoors, just the two of you on a starry summer night that was so gorgeous it hurt. Nagisa tore his eyes off the sky, though, looking over to you, his expression unreadable.

"I keep having dreams where you're an Angel," you said, deciding to just go for it. "And then you die. And I die, too. They're really shitty dreams." You rolled over onto your side, a sigh slipping out of your mouth. It felt good to say it, to stop containing everything in your body that was in no way large enough to carry all of it, and that relief alone was almost enough to counter the possibility that you were about to die because you'd just uncovered Nagisa's greatest secret.

His lips parted, his voice still gentle. You didn't think you'd ever seen him angry, not even in your dreams, and that moment was no exception. "And you decided to come to me first instead of anyone at NERV."

It wasn't a denial. It wasn't anywhere close to a denial. "Is it true, then?" No answer, but that was somehow answer enough. "You're an Angel."

(That's the enemy, idiot.)

(But was he?)

"I thought the dreams might be a prophecy, but that doesn't seem right," you said, the words torrenting out now that they'd been unleashed. "Things happened that didn't happen in them, but I didn't do anything to change, or whatever. I don't know. It doesn't make any sense, except it does." You paused, made yourself look right into Nagisa's eyes, the dark of the night too deep to let their true color shine. "If you're not saying anything as some kind of practical joke, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop, Nagisa."

"No, no, that's not it. I'm just…" Emotion falls out of his expression, his face an unnatural blank slate. "If I am an Angel, aren't you worried I'd do something to you? Do you plan on turning me in then?"

"No." You didn't even need to think about the answer; you always knew that would be the response. "You wouldn't hurt me because you're my friend. And that's the same reason that I wouldn't turn you in, either."

(Friend.)

The silence stretched out, thought it was just your words that had ceased; there was still wind rustling through the grass, still the sound of some animal or another wandering through the darkness, still the hoot of an owl. But Nagisa remained silent, and so did you, because if by chance you were going to die, you didn't want to ruin such a perfect and beautiful moment by uttering any other words.

But Nagisa only watched you, close and careful, and asked, "Do you remember?"

Such simple words, such a note of desperation in them—but also, hope. You were not going to die, not in that very moment, at least. Nagisa was waiting, his expression full of expectation, though you weren't sure what it was he was expecting whatsoever. But he'd answered you with honesty, so you would do the same.

"I dream about it," you said, which you'd already mentioned. "I don't remember everything, but I dream about it sometimes." A lot of the time, to be accurate, and most of it awful, but still, it was something, it had to mean something.

And so he told you.

"I'm not sure of all the specifics, but this world keeps repeating."

Nagisa's voice was quiet, but firm, him nothing short of serious in his explanation. You believed him, because why not? If alien beings could destroy the world, wipe out most of humanity, why not time loops too? And, well, your dreams were a bit too much to ignore.

"The constant seems to be that there is another Impact coming, which decimates the planet. But, because of the Book of Life, it's possible to reset it back to a point. The world is trying to find another outcome—ah, rather, Shinji-kun is trying to find another outcome to this scenario."

It took you moment to process the name, but it came to you moments later: Ikari Shinji. "The Third Child?"

Nagisa nodded, but you couldn't quite see it. Or, then again, maybe you could. How many dreams were there, of Unit 01 squeezing its massive hand, followed by Nagisa's head falling to the water? Too many, that was what, and you clenched your hands into tight balls just so you could resist the urge to reach out and run your fingers over Nagisa's neck, to confirm that he was alive. "Shinji-kun has gone through a lot," Nagisa said. "Even if he doesn't remember, he still wishes for a better outcome, and so the world resets."

You weren't sure just how he's gone through a lot translated into the universe will reset itself for him, but did it really matter? "So if we manage to pull off a better outcome, we won't have to go through this again?"

"Possibly." It wasn't a reassuring response whatsoever, but it was better than an all-out no. "I've tried my best, to help Shinji-kun achieve happiness, but it doesn't seem like enough. But I'm still willing to try." He paused, looking you over once more. "Takanami, your dreams might be the result of where your name was written in the Book of Life. As an Angel, I could erase—"

"Does anyone else remember?" It wasn't that you were overly polite, but you don't think you had ever cut Nagisa off before, and he seemed shocked that you had. Even when that surprise sipped off his face, though, he didn't answer, which was answer enough. "You're my friend, so I'm not leaving you to endure all of this on your own, Nagisa."

You wondered if you would feel guilty about it, if you did forget. Maybe right now, you would, but what of the next time? No dreams, no need to know what was happening. But the you of right then and there, the you that did remember would feel awful, because enduring your dreams on your own was awful, and knowing that someone else also remembered felt just a bit like hope.

"Is that so?" Nagisa's question, his voice measured but probing.

"It is so." Your petulant response.

Because you would argue about it if you had to. You hoped that it wasn't necessary, but if it were, then that was the deal. It was your choice if you wanted to remember, and if you had someone who understood with you, then it would be easier. Still rough, still awful, but easier. Not to mention that no matter how much (Angel) (Enemy) he was, you still enjoyed Nagisa's company, still wanted to be there for him and have him be there for you.

Nagisa, seeming to have recognized that he wasn't going to squash your determination, smiled. "In that case, Takanami, I'm glad."

You paid more attention to Ikari Shinji that time, because now there was a vested interest. Nagisa had theorized that Ikari's desire for a better world was the reason that this kept happening over and over, so it seemed prudent to at least understand him more. Most of your dreams were about the endings, about the moments that you or Nagisa died, so there wasn't much about the others, save for the roles they'd played. The Third Child—Ikari, you tried to remember, he was a person, had a name—either had to be the one to kill Nagisa or he was often there to watch him die. When you thought about it, Ikari was in more of the dreams than not; if Nagisa was trying to help him achieve happiness, then of course the two would often be together, as well as you, who'd been trying to save Nagisa in the process.

Aside from the whole he might be the key to getting a good ending and stopping this time looping mess thing, you didn't have too many thoughts about Ikari, even when you were paying attention. He was an EVA pilot, just like the rest of you, and he operated the purple (monster) mass that was Unit 01. From what you observed, he struggled with that responsibility, sometimes being unwilling to fight. You couldn't blame him for that: your job as pilots was difficult and terrifying at best, deadly at its worst. If it weren't for the dreams of Nagisa, you wouldn't be doing your job, either.

But what you were surprised that you hadn't noticed before was the way Nagisa reacted to him. Nagisa was your friend, so he was nice to you, without a doubt. But with Ikari, it was a bit more than that. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Ikari was connected to the potential resetting of the universe, but you didn't think that was the sole cause of it, either.

Not with the way Nagisa's eyes lit up whenever he saw Ikari.

Not with the gentle way he said his name.

Not with the way he was there, aiming for his happiness.

"How do you feel about Ikari?" you asked over lunch in the cafeteria. Nagisa had been in the middle of chewing, so he just looked up at you, giving you the chance to elaborate. "I mean, beyond the whole repeat thing." That had been the simplest way you could think of describing the situation in public, so that was how the two of you referred to it, those simple and almost nonsensical words that in no way conveyed the gravity of what you had experienced.

Nagisa didn't blush, but he came close to it, you were sure. "I think that Shinji-kun is a wonderful person."

You have a crush on him, you thought but didn't say out loud. Maybe Nagisa didn't understand a concept like that, considering that he was non-human. Maybe he couldn't even have those same sorts of feelings in the first place. There was no need to complicate things, not whenever things were already complicated enough.

(The real reason you didn't say anything: you didn't want to hear him confirm it, you didn't want to make him realize those feelings.)

(Friend. He's your friend.)

But you couldn't help but notice that time, the way Nagisa was willing to die (no blood) for Ikari, and maybe it had never been for your sake at all.

You had developed a theory that there were only so many times you could try to save someone from dying before you developed feelings for them in some capacity. They didn't necessarily have to be romantic. They could have just been some form of attachment or concern. Friendship, even, which was what had happened with you and Nagisa. Once you factored in the fact that you were both aware of the resetting time issue, that had made your friendship closer, because you weren't just seeing a copy of someone you'd known and starting over—you were both on the same journey, and that meant the relationship was mutual.

Of course, even without knowing that, you'd gotten attached to Nagisa, so it was no surprise that he'd gotten attached to Ikari as well. Expected, even. Nagisa knew how to be kind, and Ikari needed kindness. Nagisa told you stories, and Ikari's experience of his lost mother and his neglectful father made your own experience (sans nightmares of past timelines) seem like a walk in the park. You and Ikari knew each other in most times, as you were fellow Children chosen to become pilots. You didn't want to add anything more stressful to his experience, so you were polite as well, though the situations in which you encountered each other tended to be volatile regardless, what with the impending Angel threat.

(Nagisa, an Angel, a presumed enemy, one that you let walk into NERV every single time and never did a thing to stop him.)

(Nagisa, who you—)

It was hard to tell the exact details, considering your memories were dreams, but it seemed that not all loops took the same amount of time. Some of them finished the year you and Nagisa went to Tokyo-3 and met the other pilots there. Some of them stretched ever on, for more than a decade, the planet often ravaged but humanity not fully destroyed. And, in those times, a side effect of your piloting—an inability to physically age.

You couldn't help but wonder if it was intentional. After all, only children seemed to be capable of becoming EVA pilots. Why not have the LCL fluid prevent your aging so you were always a ready weapon? Or maybe that was just a convenient side effect that NERV decided to take advantage of?

(What does it matter when we're just going to die in the end anyways?)

You tried not to be pessimistic about it. After all, Nagisa believed that there would be a resolution to things, and, as an Angel, he seemed much more qualified to make judgements about the situation than you did. But in the longer loops, what with the near decade and a half in between, it was hard to have that hope as more and more of the planet turned into a wasteland, only a sliver of people left. Even Nagisa, standing in the crisp uniform of a commander than his usual school uniform, couldn't fully erase your worries that maybe it was all pointless.

No, it wouldn't be pointless. Not if you could find a way to save Nagisa. Even if you both died at the end, with Instrumentality or whatever the fuck was going on, if you could save him from dying on his own, it would seem worth it to you. And if not? Well, you'd die and try again.

You'd always try again.

"How many times?"

The nice little field where you'd talked before and watched the stars had not been spared, so you'd both had to improvise. Well, Nagisa, being Nagisa, could go ahead and wander wherever on the now dangerous planet he pleased, could have, but he was being considerate of your less sturdy composition, so you'd gone up to the roof to watch the night. That was a very different view, too, the horizon dominated by the modified moon, no longer a lovely rock in the sky but instead pulsing with a grid of red lights over metal.

(It was possible, you knew, to become an Angel. That might let you roam the same places as Nagisa, let you inhabit the same world, but you didn't think that was the right answer. Wouldn't becoming an Angel, too, just make it clear that there wasn't any hope to make it through this and have everyone come out okay?)

(You missed the stars, missed a place that didn't look like this.)

Nagisa looked at you, catching the slight edge to your tone, though you'd tried your best to hide it. You'd noticed at Nagisa had become more nuanced in his emotions than what he was in your dreams. Bit by bit, he was becoming much more human, but you had no idea if he noticed the change. After all, finding the differences in yourself was much more difficult, as you were viewing the world through your own bias.

(What sort of differences in you had Nagisa seen and not yet told you about?)

"How many times what?" he asked, and you supposed you owed him some kind of explanation, since the question had been rather vague.

"How many times have you done this?"

You had dreams, yes, but there wasn't any clear indication of order or concrete memories. Sometimes the deaths were so similar that you weren't certain if they were distinct events or just recurring nightmares. Nagisa, though, remembered differently, so he'd be a much more reliable source of understanding how many times you'd gone through this.

But Nagisa just smiled, glancing back up to the sky. "I don't remember." But his gaze was fixed, looking back up to the moon, and, though you weren't sure what he was seeing, you could tell he was lying. But it didn't exactly matter; you'd just been curious. If Nagisa didn't want to tell you, you weren't all that offended by the prospect. "It's…a lot, though, Takanami. We've been through this a lot."

You didn't have any words, so you reached out and squeezed his hands, hoping that bit of comfort would be enough.

No blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblOOD.

"How many times?" you asked, because you needed to know.

"How many times what?" Nagisa asked, because your question could be taken more than one way.

"How many more times are you planning on killing yourself for Ikari?"

That question hung in the air, the words heavy with the weight of it, and the night felt spoiled. It didn't matter how fresh the air was or how beautiful the stars stretching across the sky were. This summer night early in the cycle was your peacetime, the calm before the move to Tokyo-3 and everything else that was going on, and you had ruined it with just a handful of words.

(But that was the thing, you'd noticed. Nagisa had ruined it, because it didn't seem like he was trying to live anymore. No matter what situation, no matter what outcome, he would die. And while there were dreams of the times it had been for your sake or just an unfortunate outcome of the situation, the overwhelming majority were him putting himself in harm's way for Ikari, and it felt like a contradiction.

How the hell did Nagisa expect Ikari to be happy if he showed him kindness and then let it be snatched it away with his death?)

"Ah, that's right, we haven't talked about it this time," Nagisa said, as calm and casual as ever. Even when he died in your dreams, he'd always been peaceful. Did he even know how to be upset about something?

(Angel, you remembered, and the mere thought brought the taste of blood to your mouth.)

"Shinji-kun is the key to all of this. I'm certain of it." You did remember that concept, those words, but you didn't interrupt. Maybe Nagisa had a better explanation that you just hadn't heard yet, just hadn't dreamt about. "Without him, it won't matter what other sort of outcome we reach." The argument of previous times, were he'd caused the Near Third Impact, didn't leave your mouth. Blaming the present version of Ikari for whatever the past versions had done was unfair, not when he didn't remember at all. "But none of that is the real answer to what you asked, is it, Takanami?

"I'll do it as many times as it takes."

Your stomach dropped out of you, the same physical sensation as whenever you took Unit 06 flying through the air, gravity dragging you down. Except in those moments you felt alive and powerful, and hearing those words from Nagisa was enough to make you feel small and powerless—which you probably had been this whole time, but you hadn't felt it so intensely before.

You hated the idea. You hated that Nagisa didn't seem to be looking for answers anymore; he had accepted that he would die, and that would be the end of it, and it was so unfair, because you didn't want that for him at all.

"Helping someone else shouldn't come at the cost of destroying yourself."

Your voice carried all the frustration that had bubbled up inside you, greater and greater with every dream you'd had. Being there to help Nagisa was one thing, but watching him die out of some sense of self-sacrifice? You couldn't help him, because he didn't want to help himself. He only wanted to help Ikari, his own wellbeing be damned.

Nagisa's beautiful smile looked sad, defeated. "There isn't a way to get out of this that doesn't involve me getting destroyed, Takanami. It's just how the Book of Life is. I can't escape that."

"Who gives a shit about that?!"

You may have been an EVA pilot, may have been friends with an Angel, but there was just still so much of what you were involved with you didn't understand. The origins of the Angels, Human Instrumentality, the Book of Life—they were words, concepts, but none of them seemed to have any meaning to you.

(What did have meaning was Nagisa. Nagisa mattered, and yet—)

"Screw that!" Your fists were balled into the front of Nagisa's button up before you even realized it, but you didn't bother to let go. In fact, you pushed him over on the ground, and he didn't resist, so you stared down at him, words spilling out of your mouth, a released torrent of pent-up rage. "That's not okay! You deserve better than that, and I'm not just going to sit here and watch you think it's alright just because you get to meet him again! Wake up, Nagisa! Let's work together and try something different—"

"I can't! I can't do that, Takanami!"

"And why not?!"

In your waking memory, you and Nagisa hadn't ever argued like that before, and you hadn't had any dreams that suggested that, either. Oh, you'd yelled at him, begged him to stay alive, but that wasn't the same, not when the anger was pounding and pulsing through your blood.

"I had a dream," you said, your voice breaking, "where you offered to erase my name so I wouldn't remember." Nagisa stayed silent. "That means you can change things, even if it's a little. Why does some book or whatever get to tell you whether you get to live whenever you can rewrite it? If that's something you can't influence, then just tell me." More silence, which was plenty of answer, and the realization struck you hard enough to make your hands tremble. "You don't want to change it. You want to keep doing this."

You—couldn't understand. What was it? Why would anyone want that? Was it because he was an Angel, something with so different values that you wouldn't be able to comprehend it, even if you tried for a hundred more cycles? If you were in his position, you would use whatever power you had to go ahead and set him free—and if you had no power, you would struggle and scream and try anyways, like that first dream where you charged at Unit 01, even when it was hopeless. But Nagisa hadn't tried, and you didn't think he ever would.

"Is there anything," you said, still shaking, "that I could do to change your mind?" Because if you couldn't, then you'd have to make a choice that you didn't want to, and that would break you right in half.

Tears dripped off your face, and Nagisa reached up a hand to brush them away. "Being with you really does remind me of all the good things we're fighting for," he said, and you hated him for it—or maybe you just hated yourself for how those words still struck you, even when they weren't an answer. "I'm glad that you care for me so much, Takanami. But this is what I need to do."

"Then I won't be there with you." You didn't want to say the words, but you needed to, because you couldn't do this anymore. "If you decide to do something else and need my help, you can come find me. But I can't keep watching you destroy yourself over and over again." It hurt too much, the agony ripping through you every time you woke up from another nightmare.

(Helping someone else shouldn't come at the cost of destroying yourself.

And that included you.)

"Alright. Thank you, Takanami. For being at my side for so long." Again, that beautiful smile, the one that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll go ahead and erase your name, then. So you won't have to suffer as much through all of this."

You'd dropped more than enough bombshells through the conversation, but nothing like that. You'd made a choice for yourself, a decision to step back. Nagisa was making a choice for you, erasing your opportunity to remember, taking that away, and for what? Because he thought you couldn't be happy if you were living through the same nightmares over and over?

You hated so much of what you'd been through, but you didn't want to forget.

"It'll be simple," Nagisa said, resting his hands on yours with a sense of finality, like it was the last time he expected to hold them. "You won't even notice."

"Fuck you," you said. "Fuck you, Nagisa, you don't get to—"

And then—boom—the world shifted everything falling out beneath you, except for Nagisa. You didn't let go, because you were afraid that if you did, then he really would be gone, and that wasn't what you wanted, that wasn't what you wanted at all. You looked around, trying to figure out where you were, because it was all whiteness and distorted colors, before it all fell into place with a small snap: somehow, you'd arrived in the same cafeteria space where you so often ate lunch, except it was empty, and then Nagisa was sitting across the table from you.

When you looked down, there wasn't a meal tray, but a book: nothing special, save for unlined pages filled with a gentle and precise hand. Even upside down, you could read it, could recognize the space where Nagisa's name was followed by two additions in his own handwriting, yours and—

Ikari Shinji.

It wasn't surprising at all, that his time was there, tied to Nagisa's. But that it was added in, written there the same way that yours was—and that was more than telling, now wasn't it? Nagisa had made the choice to tie you and him together, he'd made the choice to tie Ikari Shinji and himself together, too, and he was making the choice now, to let go of that connection, an eraser in his hand. Even when you reached out, the space stretched, making it impossible to reach, and as one piece of your name at a time went away, you could feel the warm summer night air reclaiming you, banishing you from whatever in the world this place was, and there was nothing you could do—

But you were going to try anyways.

(You would always try.)

You howled, the sound echoing off the cafeteria walls, the sound becoming harsher and more distorted. But you were able to take a step forward, rushing forward in a charge, though the time it had taken you to do that wasn't enough, and there wasn't much left of your name until Nagisa had erased you from his story altogether.

Fuck that.

Pain was a constant for an EVA pilot. After all, the LCL fluid connected you to the mech—if it was damaged, you felt the pain. Even this early in the loop, you had gone through agony, so a minor injury didn't mean anything. You dug your nails into the opposite palm and ripped, drawing out pain and bLoOd, the latter being what mattered as you flung your newly bleeding hand forward, red flying through the air and splattering onto the page.

Nagisa had kept his head dipped, but when he did look up, there was something like terror etched on his face. Had he ever seen you bleed before? More often than not, it was him dying first, or you died together, giving him no opportunity to see all the red you had experienced in your dreams. It wasn't that he was a stranger to violence—you couldn't be, not as one of the chosen Children—but violence committed on you? That was something else, maybe even something new.

(See? You do care, Nagisa.)

(pleasesayyoucareaboutme!)

"If you don't want to drag me into this anymore, fine," you said, and the sight of the cafeteria was distorting around you, like a TV signal overwhelmed by static, "But you can't erase that I was there, Nagisa. You don't get to take that away from me." And your blood staining the book in front of him was proof of that. Nagisa's lips parted, and—

The night air reclaimed you, leaving you alone to stare up at the starry sky but you still remembered, and you would still dream, but you wouldn't race to stand by his side anymore.

(You had wanted him to choose you.)

No blood, no blood, bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblOODbloodbloodBLOOD.

BloodbLOODBLOOdbloodbloodbloodblOODbloodbloodBLOOD.

BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD—

No blood, just the taste of watermelon, the scent of damp dirt in the field.

A voice you recognized, but hadn't heard in so long that it was hard to identify the owner, but—

"Sheesh, he's too much of a coward to even come and get you himself. Well, I don't need to help you out, since you've already found—"

A name sprang to mind, one you hadn't thought about in ages:

Makinami?

And then—boom—the world—

You woke up from the dream, feeling haggard. It was exhausting, having the same type of recurring nightmare, though they had become far less frequent in your adult years. You still paid attention to them, still wrote down when they happened, but it seemed far less important than when the impulse to record the dreams had first reached you. According to the half-filled notebook you kept, it had been four months to the day since you'd last had one. It felt like a good thing—most people would consider not having your entire day ruined by a dream (memory) of blood and gore and death as such—but you couldn't help but question if it were that simple.

(What if the dreams becoming less and less frequent meant that you were running out of time?

Running out of time for what?)

Your world was not an apocalyptic one. There were no monstrous invaders from space coming in to obliterate the planet. Humanity was not on its last legs. The oceans were blue, the moon was a bright shining figure in the sky that waned and waxed as it orbited the earth. You had never touched anything even close to the cockpit of the robots you had seen in your dreams, and such technological marvels didn't exist yet, though the realms of science fiction and reality were overlapping more and more as the years passed. It was a blessing, such a peaceful world, and the nightmares reminded you of how blessed you were, to live an existence so peaceful.

(Nagisa, you often thought, as if repeating the name would make the boy from your dreams manifest.)

If nothing else, you had the day off, so there wouldn't be any need to pull yourself together to get things done. You took your time, easing through the different parts of your morning, steadily stitching yourself together until you were ready to go out. Relaxing at a café seemed like the best option to take the edge off the anxiety, so you packed up your bag and got ready for the walk over.

The sunshine was nice, and you enjoyed the sensation of the warmth against your skin. If you remembered right, your go-to spot was releasing new drinks, so maybe you'd try—

"Takanami."

A voice—one maybe a slight bit deeper than the timbre in your dreams, but one you'd recognize no matter what. He'd gotten taller, the angles in his face a bit sharper, but he was still beautiful. You stopped, staring, a part of you worried that this was a dream, too, that it would just be a few moments before you woke up and everything slipped away.

Nagisa, you thought, Nagisa, Nagisa, Nagisa, but you couldn't bring yourself to say it. His expression wasn't that usual smile, but instead one of concern that you hadn't seen save once in your dreams—but it was different than then, too.

"How many times?" you asked, and then, before he could seek clarification, "How many times since you've seen me?"

(You'd worried, in those times where you stopped yourself from joining the EVA project in the first place, that you'd remember and remember and never see him again, that he'd never change his mind, that you were abandoning him to an eternity of suffering through it all on his own. Three times, while not an insignificant amount of time, was much better than all the times that had come before.)

(On your palm, a jagged but fading scar, one that remained as a testament to your determination to not be erased, to always have a place in his life, even if was just as part of his past.)

Nagisa said, "Three," and you weren't sure what surprised you more: that the number was so small or that Nagisa wasn't lying about it. Either way, words felt stuck in your throat, though your mind was blank; more than likely, you were so full of thoughts that you couldn't discern one from the other in the fuzz in your head. "Takanami, I'm sorry."

An apology, something you'd hoped for but never expected to hear.

You forced your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. "That's a good place to start." Because, while you may have been the one to make the choice to remove yourself from the situation, you had still felt hurt, and having Nagisa before you again, instead of just in the fragments of your dreams, were making those feelings come back in full force. "You're sorry for what?"

One little phrase was not enough. You needed to know what he acknowledged, to tell if it was worth trying to be in each other's lives again.

Nagisa didn't seem offended by the question in the slightest, which you hoped was a good sign. "You were right. There was a way out, a world where I could live." His fingers grazed over his neck, a confirmation that he was alive. It would have been so easy to cross the meter or so between you, to add your touch to his, but you clenched your hands into fists to resist the urge. "I shouldn't have given up. And even if that weren't the case, I shouldn't have tried to erase your presence from my life. That was your choice, and I should have respected it." He looked down, the action still seeming boyish, though you knew he was anything but. "If you make the choice to still not have anything to do with me, I'll respect that, too." But the tone in his voice made it clear that wasn't what he wanted, but it was nice of him to not violate your boundaries on purpose.

You wanted it, too, but if this was going to be a healthy relationship, you both needed to do better than you had in previous loops.

"That's going to depend," you said, and then proceeded to ask the question that shouldn't have mattered as much as it did to you: "How are things with Ikari?"

Are you going to just throw away yourself for him again? Even if the world you were now in wasn't as dangerous, that was still a distinct possibility, still a behavior that could perpetuate. That level of codependency would find a new way to tear Nagisa apart, even if no blood was ever spilt and his head remained on his shoulders.

"Shinji-kun…has decided that he doesn't need me to be happy." Part of your heart reached out to him at that, because you knew what it was like whenever someone you cared about didn't need you anymore. Still, Nagisa didn't seem too torn up about the prospect, though maybe that was just because he'd already had the time to process it. That would be something to ask about later, if there was a later that involved the two of you together. "I'm glad for him; he didn't need me to find the answer to end all of this, either." Nagisa threaded his hands together, and it was the smallest he'd ever seemed to you; ironic, given how his body had been allowed to grow. "I…would like to see him again, in this world. But I think I need to take the time to figure out how to be happy as myself first."

You nodded, glad to hear all of that, but uncertain of why now, of all times, you were having this conversation. "And you came to find me, because…?"

(You hoped, you wished it was because he cared for you, because though you had found a new life that you were happy in, you still missed Nagisa, and you'd have never forgotten him, even if you hadn't crossed paths again.)

"Because I think having you in my life is part of what I need to be happy." He was as frank as ever, and you couldn't stop the heat from rushing to your face, especially whenever he gave you that smile. "Or maybe 'need' is the wrong word. But I've been thinking about it, Takanami, and having you around is what I want, so…" He swallowed, and for the first time ever, Nagisa looked nervous. "Please, Takanami. If you can forgive me, I'd like you to stay with me."

That pressure built up behind your eyes, that singing heat that precursored tears. It wasn't the first time that Nagisa had made you cry, but it was the first time those tears were a sign of relief and happiness. Of course, an apology and some promises weren't a guarantee that things would work out, but it was a solid enough foundation to start with. And, well, if things went poorly, you'd already proven that you could walk away, no matter how much it hurt. One way or another, you'd be fine, so why not follow what your heart wanted?

"Okay," you said, your voice wavering, and you thought you saw Nagisa's eyes shimmering in a different way than their usual jewel-like brightness. "Okay, Nagisa. I'll stay with you as long as you'll stay with me."

"I…" He sucked in a breath, still beautiful even with tears sliding down his cheeks. "I'm glad, Takanami. I'm so glad right now." He scrubbed at his eyes, but that wasn't enough to make the crying stop, and you felt yourself smiling a bit, feeling at peace for the first time in a long while. Giving the attempt up for broke, Nagisa instead reached out his hand into the empty space between you. "While you were gone, I learned that this is how we connect to other people."

Hands touching, clasped together. You and Nagisa had held hands before in your dreams, but it had almost always been in moments before death, and the plugsuits had been tight around your body, a tiny layer preventing true contact. Any other moment you'd ever had had been one-sided, nothing even resembling mutual. But now that barrier wouldn't exist, nor would any AT Field to cut you off; just your bare skin against his, a willing embrace from both sides, and the thought was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

When you took a first step forward, so did Nagisa. You met in the middle, almost bumping into each other, but stopping when your hands touched. You reveled in that sensation: the thin shape of his fingers, the smoothness of his skin; and he took his time, too: fingertips tracing over your knuckles, over the scars across your palm. You clasped hands, the warmth spreading between you both, and you each squeezed tight in turn, reaffirming that you were there, that the connection between you was something you had reestablished.

(Nagisa, no longer an Angel, never an enemy, and maybe, in the future, something different than a friend—)

You closed your eyes, the sun shining warm against your skin and a gentle breeze blowing across your face, and drank the moment in.

That night, whenever you fell asleep side by side, no blood nor nightmares filled your dreams.

[Author's Notes]

Happy birthday, Nagisa Kaworu!

My journey with Eva has been a strange one, but the one constant is that I've always loved Kaworu. Though his eventual fate was the same, I was glad to see more content for him in 3.0, and then 3.0+1.0 came out and emotionally wrecked me - but like in a good way? I'm glad Kaworu got to have a complete character arc instead of just being fuel for Shinji's own development, and I'm extra glad he got to have a happy ending where he learns to put himself first.

When I first watched Eva, I had a very rough OC concept. I ultimately scrapped that in favor of Takanami here. If I only make it a one shot, I won't have to navigate the cluster that is Eva's world building! That said, I will gladly exploit time loops for all they're worth. Also, I feel like I could be convinced to write post-canon daily life fluff. I'm setting that idea on the back burner for the time being while I try to get my other multi-chap fics in working order. Lemme know if you'd wanna see slice of life content, tho.

Title is lyrics from Utada Hikaru's "Beautiful World," and watch that De Capo version make me cry even more than the regular version already does.

Thank you for reading, and, as many have said, thank you, all of Evangelion.

-Aviantei

[09.13.2021]