stop yourself from thinking
Who: Doumeki and Watanuki
When: midday, November 1, after the night of their re-arrival in Siren's Port
Where: Baseball Diamond to their apartment
Summary: Doumeki and Watanuki are figuring out that they're not exactly where they're used to being, and, having been informed that they own an apartment, they're going to go check it out. Only to ( Read more... )
When: midday, November 1, after the night of their re-arrival in Siren's Port
Where: Baseball Diamond to their apartment
Summary: Doumeki and Watanuki are figuring out that they're not exactly where they're used to being, and, having been informed that they own an apartment, they're going to go check it out. Only to ( Read more... )
You made it for me, specifically. I don't know if I want to ruin it.
[an admission, and he shifted to start cutting vegetables, his eyes locked on the task at hand. the fabric of the samue felt warm and smooth, the pattern was good, and even if it fit poorly, the fact that an older version of Watanuki had put so much effort into making something like this, fit so perfectly...he didn't know if he wanted to waste that effort.
when Watanuki finally started talking again, Doumeki paused in cutting the vegetables, though he didn't lift his head, just listening to what the boy said. admitting that he was glad he stayed, that he hadn't expected. Doumeki tilted his head, looking over at the boy, lips parted slightly]
Why wouldn't you expect? [his voice was soft, sort of warm] Living in the same place is what I had...
[he shook his head slightly and looked back down at the vegetables, moving carefully, methodically. and then he added onto it with a quiet voice carefully devoid of emotion]
You might change your mind. There's only one bedroom.
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Slowly, after glancing up at Doumeki for permission, he touched the hem of the sleeve, feeling the texture of the cloth and the stitches that held the seams together. Something about the quality stole his breath - it was more even than usual, even with the outstanding, fastidious quality that Watanuki regularly delivered when he adjusted his own clothes. ]
...yes. It's one I made.
[he paused again, releasing the fabric and letting his fingers hover nearby. His stitches on a samue that wasn't just for adjustment. This one was made from scratch. A gift from his older self to Doumeki's older counterpart. The craftsmanship tugged at his attention. He could feel how much care had gone into this, how it quietly shone through the simplest lines of thread.
He smiled a little when Doumeki mentioned living in the same place. It reminded him of one of their earlier conversations in that other island.]
It isn't just.. [he waves his hand in a vague gesture as he tried to find the right words.] This is more than that. You already made it clear you'd attempt to move in, but this feels -- close.
[he almost hit himself when he said that rather awkward description -- what are you doing, he berated himself, feeling his internal scramble in his search for the words that made sense and that fit just right.]
I guess it's a good thing you've started helping out, because if you're going to stay over all the time --
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One bedroom?
[one bedroom. one bed, if Doumeki thought it was significant to mention that --
oh. oh.]
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It wasn't just anxiety that he felt, or loss at him not remembering what was important. It was a slow, aching realization that followed his initial shock, and his mind spun in a haze as he struggled yet again to find ground.
This was more than the closeness he had seen for himself when he looked through the apartment -- their apartment. It was a life shared in more ways than he had ever expected since Doumeki had knocked sense into him about him not moving away. It was the kind of closeness that he almost had resigned himself to not having, afraid as he was that being involved this way with someone else, beyond the loyalty that Doumeki already had for him, would be limiting for his partner, trapped as he was in the shop.
And yet...
Yet. It was a warm kind of ache, the kind that enveloped him and warred with the strangeness of knowing that he, who probably didn't deserve this, was able to have something like this. He remembered what the apartment looked like when he entered, the pairs of slippers by the door, the book on the coffee table close to his pipe, and somehow.
Their older selves seemed comfortable and content. Happy.
A drop of hot liquid slid down his fingers to the corner of his mouth, and he pulled away his hand to look down at it. The drop tasted salty.]
Oh...
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anxiety tugged at him when Watanuki realized, as he watched the boy's eyes widen, his cheeks go red, and only mounted higher when the boy's hand connected with his mouth, hiding it, closing him off a little. he stood still, his head slightly down but eyes locked on Watanuki, not taking any action, waiting - for anger and shouting, for disgust, for fear, mounting his defenses in advance.
he hadn't expected a tear, hadn't expected Watanuki to simply say "oh" in a very small voice that way. he wavered slightly, his body shaking, then took a tentative step closer, his hand moving forward to touch the boy's shoulder, a slight brush of fingers]
Watanuki?
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[except he didn't sound entirely sure of himself, still caught in a half-daze, and he hunched forward, leaning close to Doumeki's touch after the initial moment of uncertainty (what did Doumeki think of this? why did his hand feel more gentle and almost hesitant?)
Watanuki rested his free hand on the edge of the kitchen counter for support. His hip bumped on the cold tile, and the blunt pain registered only distantly as his head was still caught in a swirl of thoughts.
breathe.
He inhaled and released it quietly. He barely felt the air; his heart beating in his chest was far too present.]
Were we really...
[he trailed off. It was like approaching delicate and fragile, like a newborn chick that had just broken its shell. Watanuki looked up at Doumeki, felling a little too exposed, only to have his breath stolen away once again. The concern - the anxiety, that careful wavering, as if peeking out from a guarded moment - was apparent in the other's usually calm features.
For a moment, Watanuki forgot himself, drawn in by the rare look of openness. In that moment, it seemed like the most precious thing in the world. Something he might not see for a very long time.]
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a best friend who couldn't breathe quite properly, whose head felt a bit strange with the shock setting in. the denied hope. he'd hoped so many times on that island, and only been hurt for it - a night by a beach in the moonlight after watching him die and come back, and they'd almost - the tension had been there, but... - he cut off that train of thought. what came after was far too painful, and there were only more painful things to think of after that. the taste of blood, snow outside, a dance...
still, when Watanuki asked if they were really...something...he felt the surge of hope again, and for a moment it showed on his face - an expression of sheer longing, tinged with loneliness, just for a moment before he closed his eyes and inclined his head slightly downward - a practiced movement to hide the things that may show, and spoke in a quiet voice when he felt he could]
It seems we were sharing a bed. What it means, I don't know.
[not entirely true, as he had a very strong feeling about what they were to each other here, before returning the way they were. some part of him wanted to be that other Doumeki - but he had no option to do that, it was a frivolous thought that passed by in a moment. he only had here, and now, and he would do what he could to make the best of it]
Do you need to sit down?
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Watanuki's chest tightened. Doumeki's expression and the answer that followed -- Watanuki looked down at the floor instead, unable to explain to himself why something felt off about that, why his face still felt heated and why he felt caught in the moment between freezing and moving, the need to know and the despairing knowledge that if his guess was true, he didn't know how he'd react or what he'd do with it. Didn't know how Doumeki would take his reaction, nor what he'd do with himself if he drove Doumeki away because of it.
Even if it might be safer for Doumeki, so felt the part of him that still worried about if he'd made the right decision in openly welcoming Doumeki's choice. Watanuki swallowed. Ultimately, there was no right or wrong answer -- only relative possibility that relied on personal value.
He shook his head in response to Doumeki's question, uncertain if he could move. The other's hand on his shoulder felt all the more fragile, a tenuous balance between staying and running.]
I'll be fine. [Watanuki let his hand fall, and he grasped his elbow, not noticing how his shoulders hunched forward a little. He felt rather small at the moment, though he couldn't allow himself to completely fall silent on himself. Not now.] You?
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it took him several moments to catch up to himself, to build up the fortitude to start wondering what Watanuki might be disappointed about - there were too many things, too many possibilities, and he didn't know which direction to go in. he'd learned the hard way not to take the best route, too many times, even before Salkia, and taking the worst was an emotional struggle he didn't feel up to at the moment, so he let it stop there. with possibilities.
Doumeki took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, letting his hand continue to rest on Watanuki's thin, hunched shoulder.
when he was directly asked a question, he had a hard time responding. words had never come easily, and words with meaning came almost impossibly, so it was difficult to even force air through his vocal cords, to will himself to speak. when he did, it was low, very quiet, a bit rough, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time]
I'm confused.
[in the tone of an admission - something he didn't want to say, but couldn't avoid speaking]
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Watanuki gently rubbed his fingers on his elbow, taking a soft breath before looking up at Doumeki, his body language easing. Doumeki's admission somehow took away the burden of not knowing about what kind of not knowing they had, a different kind of question from having to pinpoint what Watanuki felt was missing, and it diffused the tension.
Just a little.]
About which part?
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still, Watanuki settled a little when he'd admitted he was confused, and was looking at him again. he swallowed hard, and forced himself to keep looking at Watanuki, his hand sliding from the boy's shoulder for the moment and hanging at his side. he resisted the urge to curl it against his belly in a defensive move]
Most of it. This isn't what I was expecting to find.
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The cooling of his skin and the lack of weight only added to the sense of loss. He tipped his head to the side and shifted his gaze on the floor again.
What was Doumeki thinking right now? Even if he got to know more about the other teen, it still felt like there was so much he couldn't tell.]
You, too? Even if you already said that living in the same place was something you had in mind.
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Living in the same place is one thing, but...sharing a bed...
[he caught his breath, looking at Watanuki again for a moment, cautious but with that slight look of longing on his face. just for a moment before he masked it, hid it, glanced downward, his hair long enough to cover his face]
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[For once, he was able to resist having his mouth run off again, and the feeling of holding a delicate glass sculpture returned. Maybe it was in the form of a small, transparent bird, and he could feel the warmth from the fire it sealed within through the glass.
It was still a small flame. Watanuki closed his eyes for a moment, imagining himself holding that item, seeing the gold and blue lights reflect off the surface.
He had to be careful not to drop it, because if he did the fire inside wouldn't be able to be as strong as it can be.]
I wonder what our older selves thought. Still, I think they were happy, right?
[the smile on his lips turned dry.] I already knew that things wouldn't be easy. That's why I couldn't imagine something as close as this.
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Watanuki not noticing was almost more upsetting than Watanuki rejecting him. that was why Christmas had been so painful - because Watanuki hadn't even realized what Doumeki had been getting at, and that meant the wait was longer than Doumeki could have anticipated. time stretched out in front of him - four years was more than the time he'd known Watanuki already, and it was so much, how much more would he lose before he got what he needed in return?
he exhaled shakily and frowned slightly, glancing to the side]
It's closer than I expected you'd want me.
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Where you'd want to be is up to you, isn't it? [his lips curved in a self-depreciating smile.] We had already talked about this before, about you staying.
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