Chapter Text
Shinji wondered whether this was what all his life had led up to. Spending an afternoon being neatly compressed in a sweating burrito of thick clothes and academic disappointment was surely not a point he’d planned to reach as a kid. He was probably going to die soon, either from the smell or from suffocation, and that was his only comfort.
“Please stand away from the opening doors,” a voice on the receiver said sarcastically, as said doors opened in an unprecedented feat of machinery and Shinji, along with a milliard other commuters, spilled out of the subway.
Literally spilled. Shinji felt like his skin was a bag for the chunky stew his insides had become. If so, he thought morosely, he ought to have worn something thinner on the outside, to avoid consumer protection lawsuits and all that.
There was no avoiding pedestrian traffic, but Shinji could still go against the laws of human nature and climb up the stairs to the outside world rather than take the escalator. He was 10% sweat and 50% regret by the time he reached the surface. He’d lost the other 40% on the way.
If all this wasn’t already bad enough, he wasn’t even going anywhere, not quite. On the one hand, he was going to meet somebody or other about an apprenticeship or voluntary service of sorts; on the other, he knew it was futile.
The guy – or ma’am – would only have to look once at his face, whisper a “my, that’s a really impressive portrayal of a dying squirrel” to their assistant and then turn a sad smile towards him and wave him goodbye. Shinji would thank them – for the squirrel compliment – while systematically breaking his jaw muscles to form a smile and no longer than five seconds later he’d be gone.
In consequence, Shinji was going nowhere. However, as his aunt used to say, you gain something every day. Shinji agreed whole-heartedly with this; every day he gained some new feeling of mortification to add to his ongoing collection. He was kind of proud of it, truly. He used to think about it every night before he fell asleep.
It made no sense that, despite all this, his aunt every once in a while expressed a hint of concern. Even if I jump in front of that car right now, that lady will have traumas for the rest of her life – or at least a very hard time with the insurance company. Shinji glanced away from the busy street, with its appetizingly fast cars, and kept pushing one foot in front of the other. I don’t want that.
Everything’s fine, he reassured himself as his steps dragged him closer and closer to the address written on a note inside his pocket. Let’s see, I go in, I stay for a few minutes, and then I’m out, he forced a smile on his lips and kept looking around. I go in, I get out. Even if I fail, maybe afterwards I can stop and get a coffee, he looked at a small coffee shop on his left and failed to actually see his point.
Nothing bad happened to him. Shinji went into the building, got lost and ended up in the bathroom, almost got stuck in the lift because he didn’t know how to operate it, found the appointed room, smiled at the people in it, tried in vain to register what they were saying in that noise, received a piece of paper, went out, found the bathroom on purpose this time, took the stairs, and went out of the building.
He was now staring with concern at a big mug of coffee. That wasn’t so bad, his mind thought by itself while Shinji pondered life as a fully-automatized being. He was kind of dizzy.
Little by little, sip by sip, bell-chime by bell-chime, however, Shinji got back to himself. At some point, a long while after ordering his coffee and taking a seat at small corner table, he finally raised his eyes from the now-cold, half-full mug and realised where he was. It did nothing to alter his view of the world, because he still didn’t know where he was. Sure, he knew the immediate vicinity, but – nevermind.
Shinji took another gulp of coffee, looked at the wall clock which told him that he’d probably sat there for an hour, and sipped self-consciously. I wonder if they commented on the squirrel, he thought guiltily. He’d put the paper they’d given him on the table, and only now wondered what it meant. He had automatically taken it for a refusal, even though he didn’t think they’d actually give him a paper in that case. He turned it over.
Shinji liked to think he was good at reading; after all, it had been one of his favourite school activities – silent, individual, non-threatening, non-demanding. However, now that he looked at this piece of paper, he started second-guessing himself.
“Nerv office assistant? That’s quite impressive,” said somebody behind him and Shinji jumped so high he took a bite out of his own heart as he swallowed it back down. “Oh? Sorry, it was mean to intrude.”
“Uughhh-umm-hh,” Shinji’s body tried speaking before Shinji himself was aware of it.
This was why he was going to have heart problems, he thought grimly. He almost felt like he was trembling, but it was just his heart-beat shaking his body. He looked to the side and observed the white shirt and black apron of the coffee-shop workers. Shinji didn’t look higher than his chest; character flaw.
“It’s fi-ine...” he did a flawless dying old lady enactment, holding tighter to his mug of cold coffee.
“Would you like something to eat?”
He had the impression that the barista bounced on his heels.
“No, thank you.”
“Another coffee?”
His voice was so cheery.
“No, thank you...”
“Something else? Some tea? Milk? We have a nice recipe of hot cider now.”
Well, at least one of us is happy they got a job, Shinji thought morosely.
“No, thank you...”
“Am I bothering you?”
“No, thank you...”
It was quiet after that, and he took the opportunity to finish his drink. All around, normal people were having normal conversations and drinking normal coffee at the other tables. Sometimes – read: always – Shinji felt like the only antisocial person on the planet, which was ridiculous, since the world was so shitty.
I’m such an idiot, he frowned at his mug, at his hands on the mug, at his small, bitten-off nails over the white china. It was okay, he was just having a bad day. Next day he’d come again and act like someone in a commercial, all ambitious eyes and straight back, emanating confidence and success. They’ll forget about it in no time.
Shinji actually let out a breath-long laugh that somehow made his throat clench around itself. It hurt as if to remind him: Hey, you’re here now. What you are now is what you’re always gonna be. You’ll never be any better than this.
He bit his lip and the next moment a tall glass of water was placed silently on his table. “For the intrusion,” somebody said. Shinji looked around and saw the departing back of one of the baristas. He felt bad speaking up, so he circled his hands around the glass instead and took deep gulps, until he felt his throat unclench and water reach his intestines rather than his eyes.
This was what Asuka was talking about, back in high and middle-school. You’re a charity case, she had said, glaring at him with her hands on her hips. You have such a way of attracting pity that people can’t help themselves. Shinji drank the entire glass of water in one go, refusing to get unreasonably angry over past events.
I’m a charity case, he agreed now, walking out of the coffee shop with the conviction that he’d be back. Tomorrow was his first day as office assistant, after all.