“I know,” Kaworu whispers, a soft breeze in a windless place. He too hates this place. He hates seeing ghosts that he can’t touch or feel because he has no words for them. He hates crying because he’s not supposed to have emotions because he’s starting to realize that he’s an overflowing pool instead of a shallow puddle. He doesn’t know if they hate the same things but he thinks he understands why.

The rawness in Paul’s voice rips at him, like it’s as rough on his heart as it is vocalized into the air.

Kaworu shifts his hand and reaches up to gently brush away the oncoming tide from Paul’s eyes like a sea breeze. “I’m sorry you are human and you feel these things.”