[fic] It's This One
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Doumeki thinks too much about consequences.
Doumeki has a recurring nightmare: on a moonlit night he walks to the shop to find a deserted patch of land instead. It presses on his heart and he wakes up fighting for breath.
***
Doumeki knows he shouldn't do it, and Himawari knows she shouldn't let him. This is the first time since her marriage. The curtains are drawn, the lights are dim, and his fingers gently trace over the silvery lines of the scars on her back.
"Five minutes," he'd said, voice choking, and she'd relented.
He turns his back, and waits for her to dress. He hears her draw the curtains apart to let in the afternoon light.
When he leaves, she's smiling, but she says softly, persuasively "Doumeki-kun this is the last time."
He nods and leaves, feels her pitying eyes on his back.
***
Kohane says "You should tell him" as they sat together in the work room, rebinding old books.
Doumeki shakes his head. He knows it may be crazy, or perhaps egotistical of him to say so, but he feels like the price would destroy the world.
***
Watanuki greets him with a troubled expression.
"Is something wrong?" Doumeki asks.
"I feel that's something I should be asking you."
Doumeki holds up a bottle of Awamori. "Make me some champuru and I'll be better."
***
The room is filled with sound of Mokona's soft snoring, he is snuggled between Maru and Moro.
Watanuki is lying back on the fainting couch, his cheeks tinged pink and his eyes closed. Doumeki waits until he's sure and then moves closer and kneels besides the sleeping figure. He doesn't touch Watanuki, not even the hem of his wafuku. He knows that once he starts he wont be able to stop. He drinks in the sleeping figure, the fluttering of the eyelashes behind the glasses, the graceful curve of the neck. The gentle heave of the chest. His legs go numb.
***
Watanuki's voice sounds distant on the phone. He'd expected it but still it was unexpected.
"It's been a week since you came, that's not like you."
"I've been busy."
Silence echoes down the line. Or was it longing? A week felt like a life time.
***
The nightmare occurs again. Doumeki wakes up and it feels like there's heavy slab on his chest, he can't breathe. When he's stopped trembling he quickly dresses, and he's practically running before his eyes has had time to adjust to the darkness. He only slows when he turns the corner to sees the building. Warm like flickered behind the paper window panes. It still felt like a hallucination. He walks up the unreal steps. Before he can touch the wooden frame, it slides open.
He stands on the outside, he stands on the inside. Finally, finally he says.
"I want to wish for something that may destroy the world."
Watanuki smiles, doesn't take him seriously.
"There are many worlds."
And when Doumeki doesn't respond. He adds
"There are many versions of us."
Doumeki thinks of this, all the different worlds where they meet, all the different permutations of Watanuki, and he feels, he knows, that he'd be in love with every one of them.
"There may be one where we're lovers," Doumeki says slowly.
And he stares long and hard at Watanuki, at the smile that doesn't slip, at the kind eyes. In the end it's Watanuki who makes the first move, who takes his trembling hand.
"I think it's this one." Watanuki says, and gently pulls Doumeki in.
***end***
Summary: In which Doumeki thinks too much about consequences.
Doumeki has a recurring nightmare: on a moonlit night he walks to the shop to find a deserted patch of land instead. It presses on his heart and he wakes up fighting for breath.
***
Doumeki knows he shouldn't do it, and Himawari knows she shouldn't let him. This is the first time since her marriage. The curtains are drawn, the lights are dim, and his fingers gently trace over the silvery lines of the scars on her back.
"Five minutes," he'd said, voice choking, and she'd relented.
He turns his back, and waits for her to dress. He hears her draw the curtains apart to let in the afternoon light.
When he leaves, she's smiling, but she says softly, persuasively "Doumeki-kun this is the last time."
He nods and leaves, feels her pitying eyes on his back.
***
Kohane says "You should tell him" as they sat together in the work room, rebinding old books.
Doumeki shakes his head. He knows it may be crazy, or perhaps egotistical of him to say so, but he feels like the price would destroy the world.
***
Watanuki greets him with a troubled expression.
"Is something wrong?" Doumeki asks.
"I feel that's something I should be asking you."
Doumeki holds up a bottle of Awamori. "Make me some champuru and I'll be better."
***
The room is filled with sound of Mokona's soft snoring, he is snuggled between Maru and Moro.
Watanuki is lying back on the fainting couch, his cheeks tinged pink and his eyes closed. Doumeki waits until he's sure and then moves closer and kneels besides the sleeping figure. He doesn't touch Watanuki, not even the hem of his wafuku. He knows that once he starts he wont be able to stop. He drinks in the sleeping figure, the fluttering of the eyelashes behind the glasses, the graceful curve of the neck. The gentle heave of the chest. His legs go numb.
***
Watanuki's voice sounds distant on the phone. He'd expected it but still it was unexpected.
"It's been a week since you came, that's not like you."
"I've been busy."
Silence echoes down the line. Or was it longing? A week felt like a life time.
***
The nightmare occurs again. Doumeki wakes up and it feels like there's heavy slab on his chest, he can't breathe. When he's stopped trembling he quickly dresses, and he's practically running before his eyes has had time to adjust to the darkness. He only slows when he turns the corner to sees the building. Warm like flickered behind the paper window panes. It still felt like a hallucination. He walks up the unreal steps. Before he can touch the wooden frame, it slides open.
He stands on the outside, he stands on the inside. Finally, finally he says.
"I want to wish for something that may destroy the world."
Watanuki smiles, doesn't take him seriously.
"There are many worlds."
And when Doumeki doesn't respond. He adds
"There are many versions of us."
Doumeki thinks of this, all the different worlds where they meet, all the different permutations of Watanuki, and he feels, he knows, that he'd be in love with every one of them.
"There may be one where we're lovers," Doumeki says slowly.
And he stares long and hard at Watanuki, at the smile that doesn't slip, at the kind eyes. In the end it's Watanuki who makes the first move, who takes his trembling hand.
"I think it's this one." Watanuki says, and gently pulls Doumeki in.
***end***