i’ve lost my key [fic] [xxxHOLIC]
> i’ve lost my key
> mewling
> { xxxHOLIC, M15+, 104, BL}
> { [future fic, AU-ish, established relationship] Watanuki doesn’t forget just his distant past. Slowly, he forgets it all. }
> { Ugh. I think that even if one eye had good vision, it’d still make it hard to see. I imagine.}
You never wept like that
Whatever lost I won't forget about you
Oh, forget about you
-
my impure hair, blonde redhead
Rain peppers silver on the windows; it patterns spots on Watanuki’s bare skin, and he slides a finger down the glass.
“Did you bring an umbrella?” you ask. Sheets tangle at your ankles.
“I forgot,” he says listlessly.
It’s become a habit, that.
-
He always watches you closely over breakfast.
“Is it good?” he asks.
You grunt.
-
The conversation usually goes like this:
“I don’t want you to go,” you will say.
“But she needs me,” Watanuki will insist.
And you could argue, but really; Watanuki always does what he wants anyway.
-
Watanuki always argues but never resists; it’s too easy to curl your hands around his waist, too easy to kiss the back of his neck and let your fingers twist into the hem of his shirt.
He bites his lip as you slide your hands under his waistband. He never begs, of course.
And you’ll slip your fingers around his cock; tease it.
It’s too late to be coy. Watanuki shudders breaths through his lips. “Ah…Dou¬-”
He never completes your name, ever.
-
Watanuki makes Himawari tuiles d’amande.
She thanks him when he gives them to her - “The ones from last time were delicious, too,” she smiles.
“Last time?” repeats Watanuki, and he seems surprised.
-
Sometimes, Watanuki asks you, “You can see me, right?”
“Yes?” you say. You don’t get it.
He seems satisfied all the same.
-
The thing is, you always fuck in the darkness.
You wouldn’t call it ‘wild’, exactly, but it’s not like he’s submissive either. Sometimes things get knocked over.
Once, you crushed his glasses that way.
But he doesn’t seem to wear them these days, anyway. He forgets to tell you why.
-
Watanuki almost smiles when you say, “You should really stop giving people your umbrella.”
His hair, wet, is smooth against his neck. “Yeah,” he says. But you both know he won’t.
-
He gets almost-lost in some un-reality again. You almost-aren’t able to save him.
What this means is you don’t let him leave your room for two days. He almost-doesn’t forgive you.
But then he says, “I can’t afford to lose you,” and you grit your teeth, because that’s no kind of consolation at all.
-
Yuuko stays persistently and agelessly beautiful. Smokes like a chimney and drinks like a fish; probably, there are other clichés, too.
“Oh, I’m human,” she’ll say when ask. “But the definition for that can be quite broad.”
“I think it’s got something to do with DNA,” you’ll answer practically. She’ll laugh; call you ‘a very cute boy’.
-
Watanuki asks you to walk him home one day - at the time, you were too flattered to realise the implications.
When confronted, he says, “I still remember the way to your house,” defensively.
This isn’t good, you realise. This is really bad.
-
( It might be raining, again; but really, it’s always the same anyway.
Here’s the thing; you’d be that little kid who breaks his toys so that he doesn’t have to give them to his siblings , the one who says, mine or no one’s.
It’s okay if it hurts, now, because at least you’re in control. )
-
There’s still sunlight peeking under the blinds, a band across Watanuki’s back. His sweat shines gold.
“St-stop,” he stutters, gasps. There might be a please there, too, muffled into the thickness of the futon. His arms are bent, tied, bumping against the small of his back. Your knee holds his legs apart, your hand presses on his shoulder.
You fuck him from behind, roughly palm him and your fingers get caught in the hair.
He still half-says your name on the back of a drawn out moan when he comes.
It isn’t that comforting.
You’re not usually this rough but ¬-
“Don’t forget me,” you mutter, hoarse in his ear, “Don’t you fucking forget me.”
-
You don’t see Watanuki for days; then, weeks.
You don’t blame him; however, you aren’t sorry, either.
-
Then -
It’s like it never happened.
“Quit staring,” Watanuki frowns. Then, sarcastically, “Haven’t you ever seen a bento before?”
“It’s okay?” you ask, disbelieving.
Watanuki pulls away the offering sharply. “Don’t insult my cooking, ungrateful bastard.”
“No…you forgive me?”
“Forgive what?” Watanuki sounds annoyed, and confused. His eyes shine to genuine for comfort.
Your throat constricts and you think, really; you might have preferred been hated.
-
Yuuko just smiles, sadly, softly.
She squeezes your shoulder, hand warm.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
There are flowers in her hair.
-
“How can you see without your glasses?” you ask.
“Glasses?” he shoots you a puzzled look, “What are you talking about?”
-
There’s a birthday party, and there are cherry blossoms pink and white. Himawari brings (store-bought) cake and Yuuko brings (ghost world-bought) alcohol.
Mokona sings and Mugetsu twines about Watanuki’s arm. He sips sake and says, “This is nice. I think I’ve only ever celebrated my birthday with my parents.”
You want to tell him that isn’t true, but you don’t.
It’s a day for fools, after all.
-
A pattern develops: Watanuki remembers less, and smiles more.
“Is this a picture of your grandfather?” he asks. “He looks a lot like you. Kinda spooky actually.”
-
It’s not until you hear him say, “Himawari is so pretty” (complete with twirl, blush, and smile) that you realise just how far this has gone.
The blood drains from your face. Oh, you think. Please, not that.
-
Watanuki makes tuiles d’amande.
-
“I can’t let this go,” you choke. “Not, after all this time-!”
Yuuko shakes her head. “You don’t have a choice.”
She isn’t smiling.
-
Summer, he runs in the rain, cursing.
You tap his shoulder, “Here,” and give him an umbrella. He looks surprised. “Are you sure?” he asks. You hold up your own (you always carry a spare, these days), and he cracks a grin.
“Say,” he says, “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Yes,” you smile at the back of your hands. “But that was a long time ago.”
-
He was always such a fucking martyr.
> mewling
> { xxxHOLIC, M15+, 104, BL}
> { [future fic, AU-ish, established relationship] Watanuki doesn’t forget just his distant past. Slowly, he forgets it all. }
> { Ugh. I think that even if one eye had good vision, it’d still make it hard to see. I imagine.}
You never wept like that
Whatever lost I won't forget about you
Oh, forget about you
-
my impure hair, blonde redhead
Rain peppers silver on the windows; it patterns spots on Watanuki’s bare skin, and he slides a finger down the glass.
“Did you bring an umbrella?” you ask. Sheets tangle at your ankles.
“I forgot,” he says listlessly.
It’s become a habit, that.
-
He always watches you closely over breakfast.
“Is it good?” he asks.
You grunt.
-
The conversation usually goes like this:
“I don’t want you to go,” you will say.
“But she needs me,” Watanuki will insist.
And you could argue, but really; Watanuki always does what he wants anyway.
-
Watanuki always argues but never resists; it’s too easy to curl your hands around his waist, too easy to kiss the back of his neck and let your fingers twist into the hem of his shirt.
He bites his lip as you slide your hands under his waistband. He never begs, of course.
And you’ll slip your fingers around his cock; tease it.
It’s too late to be coy. Watanuki shudders breaths through his lips. “Ah…Dou¬-”
He never completes your name, ever.
-
Watanuki makes Himawari tuiles d’amande.
She thanks him when he gives them to her - “The ones from last time were delicious, too,” she smiles.
“Last time?” repeats Watanuki, and he seems surprised.
-
Sometimes, Watanuki asks you, “You can see me, right?”
“Yes?” you say. You don’t get it.
He seems satisfied all the same.
-
The thing is, you always fuck in the darkness.
You wouldn’t call it ‘wild’, exactly, but it’s not like he’s submissive either. Sometimes things get knocked over.
Once, you crushed his glasses that way.
But he doesn’t seem to wear them these days, anyway. He forgets to tell you why.
-
Watanuki almost smiles when you say, “You should really stop giving people your umbrella.”
His hair, wet, is smooth against his neck. “Yeah,” he says. But you both know he won’t.
-
He gets almost-lost in some un-reality again. You almost-aren’t able to save him.
What this means is you don’t let him leave your room for two days. He almost-doesn’t forgive you.
But then he says, “I can’t afford to lose you,” and you grit your teeth, because that’s no kind of consolation at all.
-
Yuuko stays persistently and agelessly beautiful. Smokes like a chimney and drinks like a fish; probably, there are other clichés, too.
“Oh, I’m human,” she’ll say when ask. “But the definition for that can be quite broad.”
“I think it’s got something to do with DNA,” you’ll answer practically. She’ll laugh; call you ‘a very cute boy’.
-
Watanuki asks you to walk him home one day - at the time, you were too flattered to realise the implications.
When confronted, he says, “I still remember the way to your house,” defensively.
This isn’t good, you realise. This is really bad.
-
( It might be raining, again; but really, it’s always the same anyway.
Here’s the thing; you’d be that little kid who breaks his toys so that he doesn’t have to give them to his siblings , the one who says, mine or no one’s.
It’s okay if it hurts, now, because at least you’re in control. )
-
There’s still sunlight peeking under the blinds, a band across Watanuki’s back. His sweat shines gold.
“St-stop,” he stutters, gasps. There might be a please there, too, muffled into the thickness of the futon. His arms are bent, tied, bumping against the small of his back. Your knee holds his legs apart, your hand presses on his shoulder.
You fuck him from behind, roughly palm him and your fingers get caught in the hair.
He still half-says your name on the back of a drawn out moan when he comes.
It isn’t that comforting.
You’re not usually this rough but ¬-
“Don’t forget me,” you mutter, hoarse in his ear, “Don’t you fucking forget me.”
-
You don’t see Watanuki for days; then, weeks.
You don’t blame him; however, you aren’t sorry, either.
-
Then -
It’s like it never happened.
“Quit staring,” Watanuki frowns. Then, sarcastically, “Haven’t you ever seen a bento before?”
“It’s okay?” you ask, disbelieving.
Watanuki pulls away the offering sharply. “Don’t insult my cooking, ungrateful bastard.”
“No…you forgive me?”
“Forgive what?” Watanuki sounds annoyed, and confused. His eyes shine to genuine for comfort.
Your throat constricts and you think, really; you might have preferred been hated.
-
Yuuko just smiles, sadly, softly.
She squeezes your shoulder, hand warm.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
There are flowers in her hair.
-
“How can you see without your glasses?” you ask.
“Glasses?” he shoots you a puzzled look, “What are you talking about?”
-
There’s a birthday party, and there are cherry blossoms pink and white. Himawari brings (store-bought) cake and Yuuko brings (ghost world-bought) alcohol.
Mokona sings and Mugetsu twines about Watanuki’s arm. He sips sake and says, “This is nice. I think I’ve only ever celebrated my birthday with my parents.”
You want to tell him that isn’t true, but you don’t.
It’s a day for fools, after all.
-
A pattern develops: Watanuki remembers less, and smiles more.
“Is this a picture of your grandfather?” he asks. “He looks a lot like you. Kinda spooky actually.”
-
It’s not until you hear him say, “Himawari is so pretty” (complete with twirl, blush, and smile) that you realise just how far this has gone.
The blood drains from your face. Oh, you think. Please, not that.
-
Watanuki makes tuiles d’amande.
-
“I can’t let this go,” you choke. “Not, after all this time-!”
Yuuko shakes her head. “You don’t have a choice.”
She isn’t smiling.
-
Summer, he runs in the rain, cursing.
You tap his shoulder, “Here,” and give him an umbrella. He looks surprised. “Are you sure?” he asks. You hold up your own (you always carry a spare, these days), and he cracks a grin.
“Say,” he says, “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Yes,” you smile at the back of your hands. “But that was a long time ago.”
-
He was always such a fucking martyr.