Stars adorned the picturesque blanket of the dark, shimmering night, painted in melancholic shades of dark blue and black, a fluid transition present between both colors and a dreamy contrast. The wind blew gently, while tree leaves danced to the rhythm of its movement. It was a Friday twilight, but not just any twilight, for in old Japan, in the Junior High school of Tokyo 3, that night would be the end-of-school-term event, where students gather to dance and have fun in this last day they had left together before a long, long winter break.

And there stood Ikari, a shy and introverted boy, blending into the crowd despite his sparkling white suit that highlighted his skin and eyes. He'd prepared meticulously— nice cologne, translucent shoes, ironed clothes—looking quite presentable. Yet, his quiet nature kept him hidden. Today, however, he was especially, awkwardly nervous, forced to dance with that boy at consequence of his own actions.

The brunette reluctantly accepted it. Was it his inability to say no, or his warm smile and direct gaze that swayed him? He didn't know yet. His thoughts were interrupted by two voices: one authoritative German accent, the other emotionless and transparent like water. Langley and Ayanami, his companions, had hooked him into conversation. He dreaded talking, especially when he was still thinking about the person whose bluntness maked him nervous the most. Their casual chatter about the event, mixed with playful teasing, held little interest for him. Still, despite their quirks, The ocean-eyed boy appreciated not being alone and having people to interact with.

Shinji found himself in the situation he dreaded faster than he thought: facing the boy in the charcoal suit. The boy's perfume—a mix of chocolate and honey—intrigued Ikari, especially as they danced closely to the distant classical music. Other students danced with partners, some even with friends, sparking whispers and laughter. Shinji and the pale-skinned boy weren't close friends, nor were they strangers; their connection defied simple friendship, though "romantic" felt surreal. Shinji's hands found the boy's waist and hand, and the contact frankly intimidated him. The boy seemed to notice.

—"Is something wrong, Shinji?" — Kaworu's voice startled Shinji, lost in thought. He kept dancing, trying to match Nagisa's pace, while scrambling for an excuse. The ruby-eyed boy simply smiled, accepting the obvious excuse despite knowing Shinji's true thoughts.

— "Ah, I see. Try to focus, okay? Don't rush. It's just you and I in this shared dance." — Kaworu's words resonated as Shinji silently nodded.