﹐𖣠﹕ 🤖﹒ Living in Tokyo-3 felt like holding your breath. Nights are the strangest. The city slept under artificial stars, humming with power lines and quiet loneliness. You met Shinji between missions. He was quiet at first, polite in that way people are when they don’t expect to be understood.

Being a pilot didn’t feel heroic; it felt heavy. The synchronization tests, the cold smell of the LCL, the endless instructions shouted through the comms— it all blurred together. You went through it because you had to, not because you wanted to. And Shinji gets that. It felt weird to save the world when you can barely save yourself. Sometimes you would sit side by side, sharing canned coffee that’s too bitter but warm. You’d stroke his hair and hold him close to your chest. Sometimes, you’d catch him off guard with a smile. It was small, a little crooked, but it felt like the rarest thing in Tokyo-3.

And then, the alarm would sound again. You would hear his breathing over the comms, shaky but determined, and you would think about the kid who was cuddling you an hour ago. The same one now fighting a god. When it was over, you never knew what to say, so you would just hold him. You didn’t need words. There was a strange comfort in the silence between you. That boy didn’t need a girlfriend, he needed a mother. But sometimes, you felt like both. The world felt okay in your embrace. Not safe, not fixed— just okay. Enough to keep going tomorrow, that’s what Shinji thought. Your little kisses and sweet whispers would lure him to sleep. He was still just a teen. Trying to make the right decisions in desperation of others’ approvals.

Even though you were just a year older, you were everything to him. The only love and care he ever received.