I come bearing a oneshot!!
This is my Doumeki/Watanuki oneshot #1!! Please review--
TITLE-- Chains
Pairing-- eh...Pg- to Pg 13 for obsessions
disclaimer-- I'll borrow it from CLAMP and bring them back a Doumeki with personality and a Watanuki in denial.
Warnings/Spoilers-- no spoilers, pure fluff and 104 (what else is there?)
When Doumeki came home, everyday, he didn’t go to his room, he didn’t go to the kitchen, and he didn’t go to the shrine’s center to empty the donation box. He went straight down to the shed at the farthest edge of the lot to his special, soundproof meditation room.
The room was soundproofed after years of smuggling carpets to stuff into the walls, years of hoarding pillows worn until the point of uselessness and shoving them in all the cracks, ages of effort to find the one place were he could be himself and never, ever, be heard. Technically, it was the back storeroom where all the junk was all the stuff the shrine needed to dump was kept. But Doumeki knew better. He knew the reason the door was padlocked was not because there was a possibility of heavy boxes and crates falling on top of you and crushing you. He knew the boxes had been moved or disposed of years ago. The padlock was to keep people out, or maybe Doumeki’s true self in.
Doumeki needed a place where he could unwind and change, instead of being the being, the board, the figurine of wood. Everyday, he took three hours to just sit there. He turned it into an alternate shrine, devoted to everything he was not. If it was loud, vulgar, rude, obtrusive, he papered the walls with them. Posters, pictures, paintings, scrolls praising pagan gods, lewd drawings, newspaper articles, celebrities. No one ever noticed that the vulgar content was gone because this being a shrine, no one ever touched the stuff. At least, they never said anything about it, if they did see. The room was a secret. It was his invisible world made real.
Doumeki, in outward appearance, was the perfect man. The holy boy, so to speak. Some people doubted that he had even had his first kiss, not even mentioning more….intimate…gestures. They always though that his quietness was a matter of choice. If only. It was really something he had been pushed into by society. He was the shire kid, and he was too holy to play with the normal children. By the kindest opinion, he was unusually devoted, and by the (more common) harsh opinion, he was a snob. When no one paid attention to him, he turned invisible. He was only there for their benefit, to keep up appearances, and when they weren’t there, he just…ceased.
He wasn’t quite sure if he preferred it that way, or if he would rather have friends. On the one hand, if you were invisible, you never had to deal with anything you did not place in front of yourself. You could just create your own world and reside in it for the rest of your life. But an invisible world, with one invisible person, could be pretty lonely at times.
When he was about 13 he realized hiding was no longer an option. When he hit puberty, he realized the girls had already noticed him and apparently, the strong and silent type was in. all that meant to him was staying in the shadows was a lot harder than it had been last year. So, he gained a fan club that followed him through his high school years, until they were part of his inner world, just kind of there in the background, a silent mass of googling eyes and stifled titters. He knew that there was about ten notes a day passed with himself as the sole content, about his arms or his legs. He didn’t think of this as vanity... Rather, this was a fact. Something which was to be acknowledged, filed, and ignored. He treated most of his social life like this. Just something to be organized and placed out of the way, in its spot in its pristine life.
Except that one boy, who never quite fit in any of the premade spots. Okay. Thought Doumeki. This has happened before. So he tried to put him into one of his hybrid spots, where the misc. stuff was kept. But he didn’t really stay there either. He was like a cabinet, with that one corner you could never dust or clean, no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t move it, to get to that one place.
He supposed that’s why he needed Watanuki. He needed the one thing he couldn’t place, or categorize and set aside. He just kind of was there. And that worked, but at the same time it confused Doumeki to no end because it complicated everything. Who was this boy with the haunted blue eyes? With the too-pale skin, with the strangely exaggerated features and dark hair. Doumeki couldn’t place him, so he began to spend time with Watanuki.
At first, it was curiosity. He was so intrigued with the boy that he could even put up with the ever present Himawari, with the insipid smile and the idle small talk. Doumeki figured that there was something off about this boy; just like there was something off with himself. Watanuki was a magnet. People, both alive and dead, were drawn to him, sucking him in greedily. But, after all the hurt, he couldn’t be close to anyone. He distanced himself from everyone except Doumeki and Himawari-chan. He was remote, to be admired from afar.
But, he did stay pretty close to Doumeki, and was considered his “friend” so all the girls came to him and asked if he would please do them a big favor and ask if Watanuki would like to go to the movies, or get some tea, etc. etc. Even though Watanuki only acknowledged him to rage at him. That was enough for the prospective admirers.
Funny enough, these requests never reached Watanuki’s ears. They were filed, ignored and pushed out of the way. Just like every thing else. Because of his status, as Watanuki’s “friend” he was able to keep the shorter boy’s fan club reasonably small.
The one girl he couldn’t get rid of, and alternately did not want Watanuki’s attention, was Himawari-chan. She wouldn’t leave, she wouldn’t let him have what he had worked so hard to get.
This one bit of unruliness that could shatter the order, break the shackles of cleanliness and orderliness and just break free. Himawari-chan was the last shackle that held him from the key. What made it even more frustrating was she was the object of his affections. It wasn’t fair. She was the last obstacle that should have just been pushed away. He screamed mentally after all the months and months of frustration, of risking his life, and getting nothing but a bento. And even then, he had more to worry about than just Himawari-chan.
He had to get Kimihiro himself to realize how he felt, and maybe to see that he felt the same way. But not yet. He wasn’t sure if he could take the answer yet, to take rejection without going mad. Watanuki thought that the only reason Doumeki stuck around was because he knew that Watanuki needed him. But that wasn’t true. Watanuki had chains, yes, obligations, secrets, pain, but so did Doumeki. Doumeki was just better at hiding them. While Watanuki was at home, cowering under the covers, hoping with all his being that the wards would hold, but knowing that in his heart, one day, the wards would break and they would come.
Doumeki was hiding, also, in his room full of posters and loud music. The room that was the opposite of who he was, who he wanted to be. He wanted to be an individual. Watanuki was begging himself to make it stop, throwing himself against mental walls, hoping they would break before he did, while Doumeki was sinking further and further into his restraints.
If Watanuki only knew whose chains were killing who, maybe things would be different.
Doumeki was stuck. He couldn’t voice what he knew, what he felt, and he couldn’t not. He was just locking himself up. He knew one day, he couldn’t come out again. He would padlock himself in the reality he wanted. Sadly, that would be okay with him, if it weren’t for the one element that was missing. There was that one thing that would make his paradise into a hell. The lack of a blue eyed boy. If Watanuki only knew who needed who most, maybe things would change. But Doumeki couldn’t say a word. So, he just waited.
Waited for Watanuki to realize that “Help me,” wasn’t just impossible to say for him.
Author’s Notes-Please R&R. This is my first Dou/Wata fic, but they are so canon its easier than I thought. I was so sick of Doumeki never having any problems except Watanuki not noticing his feelings. I also noticed Watanuki uses cleaning as a distraction, and Doumeki can only be messy when Watanuki is around/involved. Cleaning means opposite things to both of them, and thus, my story idea! Thank you for Reading! Please review on your way out!
TITLE-- Chains
Pairing-- eh...Pg- to Pg 13 for obsessions
disclaimer-- I'll borrow it from CLAMP and bring them back a Doumeki with personality and a Watanuki in denial.
Warnings/Spoilers-- no spoilers, pure fluff and 104 (what else is there?)
When Doumeki came home, everyday, he didn’t go to his room, he didn’t go to the kitchen, and he didn’t go to the shrine’s center to empty the donation box. He went straight down to the shed at the farthest edge of the lot to his special, soundproof meditation room.
The room was soundproofed after years of smuggling carpets to stuff into the walls, years of hoarding pillows worn until the point of uselessness and shoving them in all the cracks, ages of effort to find the one place were he could be himself and never, ever, be heard. Technically, it was the back storeroom where all the junk was all the stuff the shrine needed to dump was kept. But Doumeki knew better. He knew the reason the door was padlocked was not because there was a possibility of heavy boxes and crates falling on top of you and crushing you. He knew the boxes had been moved or disposed of years ago. The padlock was to keep people out, or maybe Doumeki’s true self in.
Doumeki needed a place where he could unwind and change, instead of being the being, the board, the figurine of wood. Everyday, he took three hours to just sit there. He turned it into an alternate shrine, devoted to everything he was not. If it was loud, vulgar, rude, obtrusive, he papered the walls with them. Posters, pictures, paintings, scrolls praising pagan gods, lewd drawings, newspaper articles, celebrities. No one ever noticed that the vulgar content was gone because this being a shrine, no one ever touched the stuff. At least, they never said anything about it, if they did see. The room was a secret. It was his invisible world made real.
Doumeki, in outward appearance, was the perfect man. The holy boy, so to speak. Some people doubted that he had even had his first kiss, not even mentioning more….intimate…gestures. They always though that his quietness was a matter of choice. If only. It was really something he had been pushed into by society. He was the shire kid, and he was too holy to play with the normal children. By the kindest opinion, he was unusually devoted, and by the (more common) harsh opinion, he was a snob. When no one paid attention to him, he turned invisible. He was only there for their benefit, to keep up appearances, and when they weren’t there, he just…ceased.
He wasn’t quite sure if he preferred it that way, or if he would rather have friends. On the one hand, if you were invisible, you never had to deal with anything you did not place in front of yourself. You could just create your own world and reside in it for the rest of your life. But an invisible world, with one invisible person, could be pretty lonely at times.
When he was about 13 he realized hiding was no longer an option. When he hit puberty, he realized the girls had already noticed him and apparently, the strong and silent type was in. all that meant to him was staying in the shadows was a lot harder than it had been last year. So, he gained a fan club that followed him through his high school years, until they were part of his inner world, just kind of there in the background, a silent mass of googling eyes and stifled titters. He knew that there was about ten notes a day passed with himself as the sole content, about his arms or his legs. He didn’t think of this as vanity... Rather, this was a fact. Something which was to be acknowledged, filed, and ignored. He treated most of his social life like this. Just something to be organized and placed out of the way, in its spot in its pristine life.
Except that one boy, who never quite fit in any of the premade spots. Okay. Thought Doumeki. This has happened before. So he tried to put him into one of his hybrid spots, where the misc. stuff was kept. But he didn’t really stay there either. He was like a cabinet, with that one corner you could never dust or clean, no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t move it, to get to that one place.
He supposed that’s why he needed Watanuki. He needed the one thing he couldn’t place, or categorize and set aside. He just kind of was there. And that worked, but at the same time it confused Doumeki to no end because it complicated everything. Who was this boy with the haunted blue eyes? With the too-pale skin, with the strangely exaggerated features and dark hair. Doumeki couldn’t place him, so he began to spend time with Watanuki.
At first, it was curiosity. He was so intrigued with the boy that he could even put up with the ever present Himawari, with the insipid smile and the idle small talk. Doumeki figured that there was something off about this boy; just like there was something off with himself. Watanuki was a magnet. People, both alive and dead, were drawn to him, sucking him in greedily. But, after all the hurt, he couldn’t be close to anyone. He distanced himself from everyone except Doumeki and Himawari-chan. He was remote, to be admired from afar.
But, he did stay pretty close to Doumeki, and was considered his “friend” so all the girls came to him and asked if he would please do them a big favor and ask if Watanuki would like to go to the movies, or get some tea, etc. etc. Even though Watanuki only acknowledged him to rage at him. That was enough for the prospective admirers.
Funny enough, these requests never reached Watanuki’s ears. They were filed, ignored and pushed out of the way. Just like every thing else. Because of his status, as Watanuki’s “friend” he was able to keep the shorter boy’s fan club reasonably small.
The one girl he couldn’t get rid of, and alternately did not want Watanuki’s attention, was Himawari-chan. She wouldn’t leave, she wouldn’t let him have what he had worked so hard to get.
This one bit of unruliness that could shatter the order, break the shackles of cleanliness and orderliness and just break free. Himawari-chan was the last shackle that held him from the key. What made it even more frustrating was she was the object of his affections. It wasn’t fair. She was the last obstacle that should have just been pushed away. He screamed mentally after all the months and months of frustration, of risking his life, and getting nothing but a bento. And even then, he had more to worry about than just Himawari-chan.
He had to get Kimihiro himself to realize how he felt, and maybe to see that he felt the same way. But not yet. He wasn’t sure if he could take the answer yet, to take rejection without going mad. Watanuki thought that the only reason Doumeki stuck around was because he knew that Watanuki needed him. But that wasn’t true. Watanuki had chains, yes, obligations, secrets, pain, but so did Doumeki. Doumeki was just better at hiding them. While Watanuki was at home, cowering under the covers, hoping with all his being that the wards would hold, but knowing that in his heart, one day, the wards would break and they would come.
Doumeki was hiding, also, in his room full of posters and loud music. The room that was the opposite of who he was, who he wanted to be. He wanted to be an individual. Watanuki was begging himself to make it stop, throwing himself against mental walls, hoping they would break before he did, while Doumeki was sinking further and further into his restraints.
If Watanuki only knew whose chains were killing who, maybe things would be different.
Doumeki was stuck. He couldn’t voice what he knew, what he felt, and he couldn’t not. He was just locking himself up. He knew one day, he couldn’t come out again. He would padlock himself in the reality he wanted. Sadly, that would be okay with him, if it weren’t for the one element that was missing. There was that one thing that would make his paradise into a hell. The lack of a blue eyed boy. If Watanuki only knew who needed who most, maybe things would change. But Doumeki couldn’t say a word. So, he just waited.
Waited for Watanuki to realize that “Help me,” wasn’t just impossible to say for him.
Author’s Notes-Please R&R. This is my first Dou/Wata fic, but they are so canon its easier than I thought. I was so sick of Doumeki never having any problems except Watanuki not noticing his feelings. I also noticed Watanuki uses cleaning as a distraction, and Doumeki can only be messy when Watanuki is around/involved. Cleaning means opposite things to both of them, and thus, my story idea! Thank you for Reading! Please review on your way out!