For the second time, Shinji suspended his arm. And for the second time, he let it drop with a sigh. He really should just go back to bed... this had been a stupid idea.

'But I've already come all this way. It would be a waste to leave now without even trying.'

Then again, the other boy would never even know he'd stopped by if he left now. He'd evade the risk of embarrassment easily by just turning back.

'...But there was no guarantee he was even awake right now; it was incredibly late, after all. So then, maybe it really wouldn't hurt to try.'

Although maybe if he-

"Ah!" Shinji gasped, a loud gust of wind blowing from a ruined hallway close by. He shivered, the air crisp and stale.

He cowered slightly, looking around. He knew it was only the wind. He knew nothing was actually there to hurt him. But he was paranoid, and he couldn't help but imagine someone was there who shouldn't be.

Feeling as if he had no other options, Shinji raised his shaking hand and knocked on the door nameplated "Nagisa" before he could doubt himself again.

He clutched tightly to the starchy pillow and blanket he held onto as he waited. He listened hard for any signs of life from inside the room, trying his best to ignore the whispering and whipping of air around him.

A series of muffled footsteps made him look up at the door hopefully. When it cracked open, the sliver of darkness behind was penetrated by a familiar, ghostly white face.

Kaworu opened the door further in recognition. Shinji noticed how disheveled his hair was. "Ikari-kun?"

"Ah, um, Nagisa-kun." Shinji knew his face had heated up. "I'm sorry I interrupted your sleep, but I was just wondering if, um, it would be alright if I slept in your room tonight?" His heart was pounding in his ears.

He expected Kaworu to hesitate, to display any signs of displeasure at his request at all. It was an odd one, of course, so he'd be completely justified in it. The two of them barely knew each other, and Kaworu had no obligation to let him into his room in the dead of night. Especially not when Shinji was standing there like a scared child, clutching his items of comfort, and asking to sleep in his room like Kaworu was his mother. It must've been weird.

Yet he need not have worried. Kaworu smiled right away. "Of course it would. Come inside, then."

A smile pulled at his lips as Kaworu opened the door, but he hid it as he walked in. An invisible bubble of comfort seemed to shield the room from the oddity that was the outside maze of walkways and ruined concrete that made up the once sophisticated Nerv. Shinji felt like relief had flooded down from his head as he'd entered, even though this room was identical to his. And he was well accustomed to the discomfort he felt in his own room. It was almost ironic.

As Kaworu clicked the door shut and Shinji's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recognized a deep, red floor and a thin bed against the wall. He wondered momentarily how Kaworu's room looked so uncharacteristic when he'd been here for much longer than Shinji.

He turned back around to Kaworu. "Th-Thank you for this, really."

Kaworu smiled, red eyes observing him closely. "It's no trouble at all."

Shinji nodded minutely. "Alright... well, I'll try to stay out of your hair for the rest of the night; I'll just sleep here, if that's okay." Falling slowly to his knees, Shinji dropped his pillow on the floor a few feet from Kaworu's bed.

"Ikari-kun." Kaworu's voice was low. "I couldn't possibly let you sleep on the floor. Please, take my bed."

Shinji looked back up at him, feeling immediately guilty. He'd gotten used to the feeling of the DSS choker constricting his throat whenever he looked up too far. "Huh? O-Oh, no, I couldn't do that. I'm the one who imposed, so I'm really okay with this."

"The floor is too hard to sleep on," Kaworu insisted.

"Yeah, exactly; so, I couldn't make you sleep there instead... this is your room."

Kaworu came forward and lowered to Shinji's level. He hummed thoughtfully. "We're at an impasse, aren't we?"

Even in the detail muddying darkness, he could easily see how flawless Kaworu's skin was when he was so near. He also realized that he'd never seen Kaworu wearing anything but his uniform until now. The purple T-shirt he had on was wrinkled with sleep. Even if it was only a change in clothes and context, Shinji almost felt like he was seeing Kaworu for the first time again.

"Why don't we share the bed? I'm sure it would calm your nerves even more than just sleeping in the same room as me."

Twitching, Shinji wondered how Kaworu already knew why he'd come here. Was it really that obvious he was frightened?

"But... the bed's too small for both of us."

Red eyes bore into his own. They were entreating "We can make room."

Kaworu stretched out his hand. Shinji felt himself automatically take it. If it was anyone else, Shinji felt sure that he would deny them, but he had learned in this short time of knowing him that Kaworu's insistences were always so easy to accept. He wondered why.

The pale boy also slipped Shinji's night things from his hands. Shinji watched as he made up the bed.

"These blankets are quite thin, aren't they? Another layer is always welcome." Kaworu then slid under the covers once again, moving to the opposite edge.

Anxiously staring at Kaworu's covered body, Shinji hesitated to come forward, but obliged after a moment.

The bed creaked under the added weight, and Shinji was very aware of how far he had to crawl inside to prevent himself falling off the side. The bed was definitely too small for both of them...

Whispering in that same soft voice, Kaworu asked, "Is this alright?"

Shinji looked back at Kaworu. His face was so near. He wasn't sure he'd ever been this close to him before. It reminded him suddenly of how it felt when Kaworu first showed him how to play the piano. Of grey, soft hair grazing his neck, and the air filled with a low voice that sounded so oddly familiar to Shinji. It was nerve inducing, yet comfortable.

He nodded, looking down at Kaworu's blanket covered chest. "Thank you, really... this is more than I deserve."

"Please," Kaworu offered easily, staring half-lidded back at his visitor, "It's my pleasure to give you any comfort I can."

Shinji's eyes fluttered closed, and he sighed. He squeezed the sheets loosely in his fist. Did he really deserve to be treated this way? Kaworu was so kind even though Shinji could offer him nothing in return. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't shake this awful, deep foreboding in the pit of his stomach. It was this feeling which made his fear from earlier slither through the crack of the door, penetrating the room's protective bubble and snaking its way up the creaky bed.

He couldn't stop thinking that after all this kindness, Kaworu would end up betraying him too. That what he was offering him right now was nothing more than a facade he'd break the second he could use Shinji for his own gain.

There was no possible way anyone could be this nice to him if they didn't want to take advantage of him. Kaworu had no reason, no justification for doing any of this. For playing the piano with him, fixing his cassette player, stargazing, or sharing his bed. It was all too kind. Kaworu couldn't be like this. No one he'd loved before had been like this; he'd learned that from his short stint with Wille.

And yet, Shinji had come to him anyway.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Ikari-kun?"

Shinji breathed out suddenly. The constriction of fright loosened slightly, reminding him that he was currently lying in bed with another person to whom he hadn't said anything to in the last few minutes. It also made him realize that he was shaking.

"I-I'm..." The utterance wavered away, no coherent thought planned for it.

To think that the boy just inches away from him who spoke in such a quiet, quelling voice could leave him too. He was all Shinji had left, and he couldn't even trust that he'd stay.

He whimpered and immediately felt ashamed. He was so alone. The only people he'd ever loved were now severed from him, floating off hundreds of miles away in some unknown world Shinji didn't understand. They were out there, and they hated him. This metal choker was a gift of sin and rage, and he hadn't meant for any of it to happen. He was stuck here to think about how he'd ruined the world with this compressive thing around his neck as a constant reminder.

He was stuck and alone. Even the girl he'd fought so hard to save was gone. She wasn't the same Ayanami that Shinji wanted back so badly, and he'd never have the chance to see that version of her again. All he had now was a robot.

A robot and this boy who could leave him at any moment.

It was through his first stream of tears that Shinji registered movement from beside him. Shinji gasped sharply as he sobbed, because Kaworu had reached out a hand to hold the side of his face. It was the gentlest touch he'd ever felt in living memory.

It was a reckless thing to do, but Shinji couldn't stop himself. He closed the gap between the two of them, pressing his head against Kaworu's chest and gripping his front desperately. He needed to feel someone, to have the warmth of another person at his disposal. This was the first time he'd had the chance in so long.

"I-I'm sorry..." He wasn't even sure what it was for, but he needed to say it. He wanted to scream the apology so that everyone could hear it - everyone who he'd ever lost. The childish hope that crying and showing remorse would fix everything... Shinji wanted it to work. He didn't care if it was pathetic, he just wanted his life back.

But that's not how it worked. Nobody could hear him in this ruined, decaying hole. No one could come to him and tell him that it would all be alright.

And yet, that wasn't true.

Kaworu's arms laced themselves gently around the crying boy's body. He embraced him tightly, without a trace of hesitation or discomfort. It was so natural, almost as if Kaworu had comforted him like this hundreds of times before.

So kind...

"Here, breathe, Ikari-kun..." Warmth spread from the hands against Shinji's curled back. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Shinji hiccupped on a sob, continuing to clutch Kaworu's shirt in his hand.

"This isn't your fault," that sweet boy whispered into his hair.

Breathing harshly, Shinji shook his head. "I-I don't care whose fault it is." He swallowed painfully, that damned choker tightening his throat. "I just want everything back. I-I want..." he broke off into a whimper.

Unlike the constriction of his collar, the tightening of Kaworu's hold around his quivering body was anything but malicious. The two physical feelings mingled together, giving rise to a cacophony of angry demands and soothing whispers in Shinji's mind. Of hatred and fondness. He couldn't understand why, but he didn't think he deserved either.

And yet he stayed, and he melted into the feeling of Kaworu's arms - of this still enigmatic boy's voluntary warmth. Shinji was alone, and yet he wasn't. He was clinging to another person. A living, breathing person with a heartbeat and a conscience and a sweet, low voice that was continuously murmuring soothing words.

How Kaworu could know exactly what it was Shinji was crying about, he didn't know. Nor did he care. Shinji breathed in less harshly. He felt as if Kaworu simply knew things about him even before he said them. Like he'd known him his entire life. It didn't even seem odd that Kaworu could tell right away that Shinji had meekly come to him for shelter because the nightmares that'd been plaguing his mind finally reached a peak after days and days of restless sleep. It wouldn't surprise him in the slightest if Kaworu could recite the dreams' contents.

The thought that Kaworu could deceive him when he was holding him so sweetly. When he was gracing him with such kind whispers. Would anyone really go through this much just to end it with betrayal?

Shinji was gripped with a sudden possessiveness. Less tearfully, but still emotionally, he gripped the fabric bunched up around Kaworu's shoulder. Soft hair brushed lightly against his fingers.

"P-Please..." With some effort, he pulled his tear-streaked face back, staring at Kaworu beseechingly. "Please... don't leave me..."

For the first time that night, Kaworu did hesitate. It was for barely a moment, and with his sleep-deprived, over-emotional mind, Shinji could convince himself that it hadn't happened at all. But when he recovered himself next, Kaworu smiled as warmly as ever, still holding Shinji.

"I don't plan to, I promise."

With that, Shinji made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, then moved forward again, back into the warmth of Kaworu's chest. His head heavy with the aftereffects of weeping and tiredness, Shinji allowed his eyes to fall shut.

Kaworu moved his hand to hold the back of Shinji's head as he drifted off, still breathing unevenly.

"Sleep well, dear Ikari-kun."

At long last, Shinji would get through the night dreamless, just as he had done for his fourteen-year slumber.