Kind Crimson Eyes

Touch

     I give Shinji a small smile before closing the door behind me and tip-toeing back to the darkened kitchen.
     I don't remember seeing Shinji's phone at all, and it definitely wasn't in his clothes, but I give the kitchen a quick look-through anyways.
    He must have lost it. That or he purposely left it behind so that he could ignore the hundreds of missed calls he's surely received by now; half of which were from me.
     When Misato told me he'd left and hadn't come home before the storm, I didn't hesitate to go looking. I don't know where or if she even looked, but I'm sure she never would have found him had I not gone out myself. He was in our "secret" spot after all.
      Despite how I'm feeling about it, I'm sure she'd appreciate knowing where he was. I grab my phone that I'd left charging, and open up my messages.

To: Misato

    I'm sorry, I meant to message you sooner. Shinji is safe and dry here at my place. I don't know where his phone is and know you must be worried sick. He's warm and comfortable in bed now. Please don't be so hard on him. Again, I'm sorry.

     Sent.

     I shove the phone into my pocket and breathe a slight sigh of relief. With Shinji in bed, and Misato now knowing where he is, this chaotic night can be over.
     Though, Shinji is safe now, but what happens tomorrow? How will we continue from here? We can't just act like it never happened. Something needs to change otherwise he will never get better.
     I'm just too tired to think about it right now. I'm so exhausted I can barely stand anymore.

     Very quietly, I open the bedroom door again and peek inside, half expecting to see Shinji sitting up and waiting for me. However, he's curled up on his side. Eyes closed and breathing softly.

     I turn off the lamp, sit down on my side of the bed, and watch him for a moment.
     The pale glow from the window illuminates the soft and relaxed expression on his face. All of his worries and anxieties are forgotten as he sleeps
      I wish I knew how to comfort him. I don't know the right things to do or say, but I hate seeing him suffer. I will try to be there for him as much as I can, but he has to want to help himself first.

     I slip as carefully as I can under the covers, careful not to wake him, and lay on my side so that I'm facing him.
     He's on his side, facing me as well, half of his adorable face smushed into the pillow.
     I gaze at him, roaming his features as if committing them to memory. From the gentle curve of his nose; his soft cheeks tinted pink; his long black eyelashes; his slightly parted, petal pink lips; the damp, tousled hair that dangles around his face, and his once tense brow now completely softened. I feel a tightness in my chest as I look at him. It's that foreign feeling again. The feeling that this person sleeping beside me is the only thing I'll ever want or need.
     I lean over and plant a soft kiss to his warm forehead, nuzzling my own against his. When I pull away, I flip the covers over both of us and tuck us in.
     Just as I settle, he stirs briefly and gently places his hand into my palm, simply so that he's touching a part of me.
   
     I may not understand the reasoning for the way I've been feeling, but one thing I do know for sure is, there is nothing I want more in this world than to stay right by his side.