To Iambickilometer, from Lunar Geography ♥
Title: Worth 1000 Words
Author: LunarGeography
Recipient: Iambickilometer
Series: xxxHolic
Characters/Pairing: Doumeki/Watanuki
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes/Warnings [if any]: Spoilers for recent manga chapters. Angsty. And it's official - I hate word limits.
~***~
He'd brought a camera to school today.
Careful observation ever since the epiphanies of a ghost-story telling ceremony in his temple had revealed to Doumeki that no matter how inexplicable or spastic the action, there was always a reason for the things Watanuki Kimihiro did.
The exact linkage between cause and effect often eluded Doumeki. Watanuki could be like a gyroscope, reacting to a push by moving off in an apparently tangential direction. Why this situation made that twisty little mind decide upon that action had been the subject of attentive study and deliberate experimentation.
So when the idiot brought a cheap little disposable camera to school - something he'd never done before - finding out why he had done so was a priority.
"Did Yuuko tell you to bring that?" He had to swoop down to get a good view of Watanuki's face, and was rewarded for his efforts by a blinding flash, as Watanuki took a picture.
"No. Why would she do that?"
Damn. He'd wanted a look at Watanuki's expression. The tone was a snippy as ever, but Watanuki's moods had been so strange of late. Since he'd fallen from the window.
'The food I make - do you like it?'
'Yeah'
Then a brilliant smile, blinding as the camera flash in some ways. 'I see! Well, that's fine then.'
Strange moods. Worrying moods. He'd only ever received such a smile from Watanuki upon awakening after his soul had been stolen. Doumeki's soul was fine, now. Watanuki's, on the other hand…
~***~
All through the day, Watanuki was taking pictures. Candid shots, mostly. Himawari talking to Tampopo. Doumeki with a mouthful of onigiri. Doumeki at archery practice. Himawari making photocopies.
Doumeki had caught Himawari's glances at Watanuki throughout the day, so it was no surprise to hear her inquire about the pictures with a thread of anxiety beneath her cheerful tone.
Watanuki blushed, looking with great fascination at a spot on the floor several feet away. "I just wanted… a reminder of the day-to-day things."
She bit her lip and looked at Doumeki. He nodded.
'I was just thinking that being able to see you every day like this... isn't something I should just be taking for granted.'
A worrying mood.
~***~
"This isn't the way to the shop."
"I know that, you idiot. I'm going to my apartment."
Doumeki kept pace.
"There's something important there I want to pick up." A cross stare. "I don't recall inviting you."
Doumeki shrugged, and received an exasperated sigh in return.
Watanuki's apartment, when they entered, had an unsettling feel to it, as though it had been abandoned for seasons or years, rather than the few weeks. There was no fall of dust across every surface or stale taste to the air - it was a more intangible feeling of long emptiness. He saw a line of gooseflesh run up the back of Watanuki's neck and had to suppress a shiver himself.
Pausing only to remove his shoes, Watanuki walked straight to a shelf. The sharp slant of sunlight through the blinds left the objects on the shelf shadowed, but cast a spotlight on Watanuki's pale features as they went from expectant to... stricken.
His eyes were wide, and Doumeki could see what little color he possessed bleeding out of his face as he pushed aside the sparse knickknacks, as though what he was looking for might be behind them. His hands moved frantically, faster, until careless movements knocked a brass incense burner onto the floor with a startlingly loud crack.
"It's not here..." Doumeki barely heard the horrified whisper. Watanuki's hands, shaking now, fell to his sides and clenched into fists. "Well, of course!." Watanuki fumbled in his pocket, voice becoming louder as it lost coherence. "Of course it isn't! Probably... never..." The disposable camera emerged in white-knuckled grip.
It wasn't until Watanuki was about to throw the camera at the wall that Doumeki broke out of his paralysis. He rushed to Watanuki, grabbing both the camera and the shaking hand.
"No," said Doumeki. "No." And he pulled Watanuki toward himself until the trembling weight rested against his anchoring frame.
It was darker by the time Watanuki moved away. Doumeki sat him down by the low table, and went into the kitchen to make tea. After, Doumeki knelt beside him, placing a hot mug of tea on the table and wrapping Watanuki's cold hands around it. Then he wrapped his own hands around Watanuki's, and waited for the thaw.
"Do you remember what was on that shelf?" Watanuki's voice was very quiet.
Doumeki shook his head. He honestly didn't.
"There was a photograph. Of my parents. And me, as a child."
Doumeki felt his brows draw together. Something like that - he would have noted. "I don't remember --"
Watanuki cut in. "Seeing it? Don't remember what they looked like." A razor-edged smile flickered across his face. "Neither do I. Not what they looked like. Not their names..."
He saw it, then. It all made sense. The words - the camera - it all made sense.
"You still remember Kunogi. And me."
"And I remember Kohane-chan, and the Fox child, and Yuuko-san, of course. But --"
Doumeki gave him time to find the words.
"How can I keep from disappearing... if I forget who I'm staying for?"
He took the pointed chin in one hand, and buried the other in tangled cowlicks of hair, pinning Watanuki's face mere centimeters beneath his own. "I won't let you disappear. Ever. I won't let you give up. And if you start to forget me, I'll do whatever it takes to make new memories. Indelible memories. Whatever it takes, Watanuki. Make you hate me. Make you love me. Make you cry. Even this."
And he kissed Watanuki then.
Later, leaning against him, Watanuki said, "You didn't really have to do that."
Doumeki shrugged. "My choice."
~***~
Author: LunarGeography
Recipient: Iambickilometer
Series: xxxHolic
Characters/Pairing: Doumeki/Watanuki
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes/Warnings [if any]: Spoilers for recent manga chapters. Angsty. And it's official - I hate word limits.
~***~
He'd brought a camera to school today.
Careful observation ever since the epiphanies of a ghost-story telling ceremony in his temple had revealed to Doumeki that no matter how inexplicable or spastic the action, there was always a reason for the things Watanuki Kimihiro did.
The exact linkage between cause and effect often eluded Doumeki. Watanuki could be like a gyroscope, reacting to a push by moving off in an apparently tangential direction. Why this situation made that twisty little mind decide upon that action had been the subject of attentive study and deliberate experimentation.
So when the idiot brought a cheap little disposable camera to school - something he'd never done before - finding out why he had done so was a priority.
"Did Yuuko tell you to bring that?" He had to swoop down to get a good view of Watanuki's face, and was rewarded for his efforts by a blinding flash, as Watanuki took a picture.
"No. Why would she do that?"
Damn. He'd wanted a look at Watanuki's expression. The tone was a snippy as ever, but Watanuki's moods had been so strange of late. Since he'd fallen from the window.
'The food I make - do you like it?'
'Yeah'
Then a brilliant smile, blinding as the camera flash in some ways. 'I see! Well, that's fine then.'
Strange moods. Worrying moods. He'd only ever received such a smile from Watanuki upon awakening after his soul had been stolen. Doumeki's soul was fine, now. Watanuki's, on the other hand…
~***~
All through the day, Watanuki was taking pictures. Candid shots, mostly. Himawari talking to Tampopo. Doumeki with a mouthful of onigiri. Doumeki at archery practice. Himawari making photocopies.
Doumeki had caught Himawari's glances at Watanuki throughout the day, so it was no surprise to hear her inquire about the pictures with a thread of anxiety beneath her cheerful tone.
Watanuki blushed, looking with great fascination at a spot on the floor several feet away. "I just wanted… a reminder of the day-to-day things."
She bit her lip and looked at Doumeki. He nodded.
'I was just thinking that being able to see you every day like this... isn't something I should just be taking for granted.'
A worrying mood.
~***~
"This isn't the way to the shop."
"I know that, you idiot. I'm going to my apartment."
Doumeki kept pace.
"There's something important there I want to pick up." A cross stare. "I don't recall inviting you."
Doumeki shrugged, and received an exasperated sigh in return.
Watanuki's apartment, when they entered, had an unsettling feel to it, as though it had been abandoned for seasons or years, rather than the few weeks. There was no fall of dust across every surface or stale taste to the air - it was a more intangible feeling of long emptiness. He saw a line of gooseflesh run up the back of Watanuki's neck and had to suppress a shiver himself.
Pausing only to remove his shoes, Watanuki walked straight to a shelf. The sharp slant of sunlight through the blinds left the objects on the shelf shadowed, but cast a spotlight on Watanuki's pale features as they went from expectant to... stricken.
His eyes were wide, and Doumeki could see what little color he possessed bleeding out of his face as he pushed aside the sparse knickknacks, as though what he was looking for might be behind them. His hands moved frantically, faster, until careless movements knocked a brass incense burner onto the floor with a startlingly loud crack.
"It's not here..." Doumeki barely heard the horrified whisper. Watanuki's hands, shaking now, fell to his sides and clenched into fists. "Well, of course!." Watanuki fumbled in his pocket, voice becoming louder as it lost coherence. "Of course it isn't! Probably... never..." The disposable camera emerged in white-knuckled grip.
It wasn't until Watanuki was about to throw the camera at the wall that Doumeki broke out of his paralysis. He rushed to Watanuki, grabbing both the camera and the shaking hand.
"No," said Doumeki. "No." And he pulled Watanuki toward himself until the trembling weight rested against his anchoring frame.
It was darker by the time Watanuki moved away. Doumeki sat him down by the low table, and went into the kitchen to make tea. After, Doumeki knelt beside him, placing a hot mug of tea on the table and wrapping Watanuki's cold hands around it. Then he wrapped his own hands around Watanuki's, and waited for the thaw.
"Do you remember what was on that shelf?" Watanuki's voice was very quiet.
Doumeki shook his head. He honestly didn't.
"There was a photograph. Of my parents. And me, as a child."
Doumeki felt his brows draw together. Something like that - he would have noted. "I don't remember --"
Watanuki cut in. "Seeing it? Don't remember what they looked like." A razor-edged smile flickered across his face. "Neither do I. Not what they looked like. Not their names..."
He saw it, then. It all made sense. The words - the camera - it all made sense.
"You still remember Kunogi. And me."
"And I remember Kohane-chan, and the Fox child, and Yuuko-san, of course. But --"
Doumeki gave him time to find the words.
"How can I keep from disappearing... if I forget who I'm staying for?"
He took the pointed chin in one hand, and buried the other in tangled cowlicks of hair, pinning Watanuki's face mere centimeters beneath his own. "I won't let you disappear. Ever. I won't let you give up. And if you start to forget me, I'll do whatever it takes to make new memories. Indelible memories. Whatever it takes, Watanuki. Make you hate me. Make you love me. Make you cry. Even this."
And he kissed Watanuki then.
Later, leaning against him, Watanuki said, "You didn't really have to do that."
Doumeki shrugged. "My choice."
~***~