Lyrics are from Lifehouse's Spin. Enjoy!

Wouldn't Change A Thing

Doumeki paused before Yuuko's gate, wary of affectionate good–byes in her range of vision. Although most things are in her line of sight, he thought as he tugged Watanuki's hand. We're no exception. Watanuki turned to face him, glancing to take stock of the passersby – which were few – before Doumeki leaned in and gave him a kiss so quick he couldn't respond.

Watanuki dropped his hand, scanned the vicinity for watchers again, and smiled. Definitely going to need to work on this. Doumeki's mind flashed to the argument earlier; he'd been so close to walking out and never dealing with any of it again, over a thoughtless comment. The memory made him feel guilty and angry all at once.

Instead, he gave Watanuki another kiss, one meant to say, I can't wait to see you later, but the shorter boy wrapped his slender fingers around the back of his neck to keep him close. It lasted long enough that Doumeki had to catch a breath when he finally let go. "I will never get tired of that," Watanuki sighed. Doumeki took it for encouragement and bent his face again, but Watanuki pulled his arms away and almost made him panic again.

He glanced behind him, toward the shop. "I'm late." Doumeki shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them off Watanuki. He has to go to work eventually. It was strange; he was so used to spending nearly all his time with him unless he was working – where he was safe – that it was only just dawning on him how much longer those hours would drag on.

"You'll be here at four, right?" Watanuki asked, standing close but not touching. His gaze shifted to one side like it did when he wanted something he wasn't sure of.

Doumeki ducked his head to catch his eyes. "Of course." And there was that smile again, tentative but definitely there, and it was just enough to make Doumeki feel solid again. It took three more minutes before Watanuki disappeared inside the gate. Doumeki wandered back to the temple in a haze, disoriented by lack of sleep and hours of emotional intensity. He'd be burned out in weeks if he kept this up.

Eventually, he grabbed his bow to practice archery, needing to focus on something that wasn't loud, contradictory, and suddenly the most vital thing to his existence.

Well I'd rather chase your shadow all my life
Than be afraid of my own
I'd rather be with you

Yuuko's smile was overly bright when Watanuki entered the shop, something he'd hoped not to see but expected anyway. "You look tired," she said, mock–concerned. "Did you get enough rest?"

At the mention of sleep, he couldn't help yawning – one of her magic tricks, undoubtedly – but smiled when he remembered what he'd been doing instead. Kissing Doumeki. Warm hands burning against his shoulder blades. Jaw cradled between palms. Kissing Shizuka. The smile became an unwitting grin.

"Oh ho!" Yuuko laughed as she followed him to the kitchen doorway. "Spend your hours committing debauchery?"

"I… I…" Watanuki sputtered, slamming the lid on the teapot with a clink. "I was not doing… that!" He turned, vaguely aware he couldn't bring himself to put a word to what he was doing. Yuuko was watching him, devious and mocking and slightly concerned underneath it all. Oh hell, she probably knew anyway. She could transport people across worlds, she could definitely figure out afterglow. "I just kissed him." She stayed silent. "A lot." He added, and her nod reminded him too much of Doumeki, infuriatingly calm and humoring him. "Not that whatever I do outside of your slave–shop is any of your business!"

Her concern vanished, replaced with smug, smug glee. "Well, then I guess I don't need to lecture you on the importance of using protection."

Watanuki dropped a spoon, his face beginning to burn. He was not having this conversation with Yuuko. He was not. "Yuuko!" He wailed, unable to come up with something more articulate.

"Hurry with my breakfast, Watanuki," she said as she slid the door shut. He could hear Maru and Moro follow her down the hallway chanting, "Use protection! Watanuki should use protection!"

Yuuko would be the death of him long before Doumeki was, for certain. Considering Doumeki had saved his life multiple times, it was probably a moot comparison anyway. He'd never seen anything so hell–bent as Doumeki marching across the courtyard that morning, like it was the most difficult task he'd ever faced.

He stifled a yawn before bringing breakfast in to Yuuko, not wanting any more comments. But she was quiet, staring off into air again, as he served her tea. "Yuuko–san," he started, but caught himself. This was too much like the night after the meteor shower, stuck with a question he had no one to ask. "Have I done the right thing?"

She turned to look at him then. "Do you believe you've chosen the right path?"

Rumors at school. Something else Yuuko would tease him endlessly for. Himawari, too – how would she react? He wouldn't be able to stand making her feel unwelcome. She was lonely enough already. Plus he couldn't pretend Doumeki didn't matter anymore. It had been enough of a slip to admit they were friends but… oh, god, dating? How was he supposed to avoid the guilt now?

Still. Shizuka. Pinning him by the stairwell. Kissing him blind. Promising to be his friend.

"I think so." he said carefully.

She smiled at him, so guileless it had to be a trick. "Then for you, it's all right."

"But it's not right for Doumeki?" Watanuki said, panicking slightly.

Yuuko shook her head. "Doumeki's path will decide for itself."

Watanuki stared at her for a moment, disgusted with her obscure answer. "I'm going to dust," he said as he got to his feet. He had better things to do. Like daydream of four o'clock.

I'd rather not know where I'll be
Than be alone and convinced that I know

Doumeki was outside the gate at three–forty–five; Watanuki showed up minutes later, like he'd been waiting. One quick kiss and they were hand–in–hand again, down the street toward Watanuki's tiny, cramped, and blessedly private apartment.

"Did she give you a hard time?" Doumeki asked a minute later, already knowing the answer. She would know, she would harass him properly, and she extracted payment for leaving early – but she had let him leave all the same, Yuuko's quirky little gifts.

Watanuki's face settled into a familiar scowl that made Doumeki want to smile. But he didn't want to seem patronizing, not when much better things held fast potential. "Of course she did," Watanuki spat before his face flushed. Watanuki's mouth twisted further as he said primly, "And she was filled with all sorts of unwelcome suggestions."

Doumeki couldn't help picturing Yuuko pointing out all her favorite scenes from her stash of manga, each one more ridiculous than the last. Watanuki gave an ungracious snort and snarled something like, "What are you smirking at?" But he didn't pull away – he leaned in, a solid, tangible pressure from shoulder to hip, and it felt so wonderful Doumeki's smile slipped.

"What?" Watanuki faltered, halting their progress, that tiny furrow forming between his brows. "Is something wrong?"

Doumeki shook his head, letting the warmth funnel all the way through his core. Nothing in life prepared him for this, not archery, not hours in the rain or sacrificed body matter. None of the stories his grandfather shared could have possibly made him understand until this morning how consuming and astonishing loving Watanuki was. Loving. Yes, Doumeki realized, he'd loved Kimihiro so long in so many ways it was impossible to pretend it wasn't true. But it wasn't time to share; he wanted to keep it for himself a little while longer, to grow into the thought more, before it became so obvious that even Watanuki's densest denial couldn't outshine it.

"Nothing," Doumeki told him, walking forward again. "Just thinking about what I'd like for dinner."

"Which I'll be cooking," Watanuki grumbled.

"But not the dishes," Doumeki reminded him. "I can handle those."

"Not for much longer," Watanuki shot back, giving him a look that once would have been vicious but was flirtatious now. "I only have two bowls left."

"Perfect."

Watanuki rolled his eyes.

Everything I know has let me down
So I will just let go
Let you turn me inside out

Making lunch two mornings later, Watanuki discovered proof that Doumeki Shizuka would never make any sense at all.

There was a love note pinned to the fridge.

Or at least Watanuki assumed it was a love note. He lifted the magnet from it, cradling it carefully between hastily dried fingers. Written in Doumeki's tiny, slanted kanji was simply Kimihiro, no salutation, no clarification. It was so strange seeing his name written in someone else's hand; unexpectedly intimate, like a hand casually draped around his waist in a crowded market. Watanuki carried it to the table, folding his legs underneath him. The oil still had a few minutes to heat – surely he had enough time to read whatever Doumeki thought was so important to say it couldn't wait until they saw each other.

Who'd have thought the guy who couldn't fit his name better – static, unfathomable bastard – would have the thought to pen something and stick it to his boyfriend's fridge? It occurred to Watanuki it might be a food request, but he was so fascinated by the existence of it in the first place that he didn't feel any indignation. Not when seeing his name written with such care.

He'd never gotten a love letter before.

Inside, it stated his name again, then, so briefly: Lunch on the roof today. So I can soak up enough of you to survive the rest of it. It was signed with a concise Shizuka.

If it was possible to expire of romantic shock, Watanuki would be a dead man. He reread it three times, alternating between blushing at the thought of what exactly Doumeki meant by "soaking up enough" of him on the school roof and sputtering at the blithe way he assumed he'd get what he wanted. Just like always.

Except the difference is, Watanuki thought, he wants me now. He couldn't let it be so easy. Doumeki needed to protect his reputation – his grades were good enough, or at least they had been before he'd taken to spending his nights rescuing Watanuki instead of studying – because colleges would really come scrambling because of his archery. If he let himself slip even more, or if one of the coaches got the wrong idea or held the wrong opinion, his entire future could come to a crashing halt.

Not that Doumeki cared; that much was obvious. He'd been so upset by the idea of hiding anything at all – it was still unnerving to think they had a relationship; Doumeki was his boyfriend – that a few people spreading rumors would hardly derail his determination. Watanuki knew from experience that it was nearly impossible.

He returned to the kitchen to finish preparing lunch, the note tucked carefully into a pocket. He'd already determined he would carry it with him all day; it was just a matter of being discreet enough when reading it to hide the rush of pleasure it brought. Hiding what he was felt at school would be a much bigger challenge than it seemed the night he'd offered the compromise. Nothing was ever easy with Shizuka, and Watanuki was beginning to suspect he liked it that way.

'cause I know I'm not sure about anything
but you wouldn't have it any other way

Doumeki was still sweeping the courtyard when Watanuki came through the temple arch. Instead of finding a broom so the other boy could join in the chores, he leaned his own against a tree.

He was greeted with an enthusiastic kiss. "Thank you for the note."

"You're welcome," Doumeki answered absently, distracted but wondering why leaving a note about where to meet for lunch garnered thanks like that. Of course, with Watanuki here in front of him, it seemed impossible to go all that time without the closeness he'd become accustomed to already. Especially if he was supposed to pretend he didn't feel that way at all. "Come here," he said, tugging Watanuki's arm toward his grandfather's library.

Twenty minutes later, Doumeki slipped inside the temple to change into his uniform, out of breath and his hair considerably messier than before. Maybe make–out sessions before school were a bad idea. They only made it worse. He'd been lying to himself when he thought he could level out that sort of emotion.

And so it hurt like hell when Watanuki pulled his hand from Doumeki's grip when they got close enough to meet other students. Doumeki glanced at him as he tucked his now–free hand into a pocket; Watanuki was staring straight ahead, and he looked relieved when Himawari dashed up from her side street.

"Good morning!" she beamed at them.

"Himawari–chan!" Watanuki exclaimed back. "How was your weekend?"

Doumeki lost track of their conversation as he fought back jealousy. He didn't blame Himawari; the girl needed friends, especially ones who understood the risk. No, she'd been nothing but helpful and encouraging since they formed this bizarre little trio. More than once she'd served to keep them together, reminding Watanuki that friendship took many forms and that none of them should be taken for granted. Not even the argument–riddled ones.

When they parted at the classroom door, she gave Doumeki a concerned glance; he hadn't said a damned thing the whole walk, but he didn't think it was unusual of him. Of course Himawari would notice the difference – and slip inside the classroom to give them a few minutes' privacy in the emptying hallway.

"I'll see you on the roof, then?" Watanuki asked, giving him an anxious smile.

Doumeki nodded, paused, and then turned to walk away, ignoring the cluster of girls whispering across from them. Hurt flashed across Watanuki's features as he turned for the doorknob. But wasn't this how he'd wanted it, far more complicated than it needed to be?

Doumeki breathed back the miserable anger that followed the thought. I can't spend the whole day sullen over this. Got to get over it by lunch, he told himself as he settled at his desk. He recalled Watanuki's smile, the feel of his cheekbones under his thumbs, the agreement they'd made a few nights ago. This is worth it, it's got to be worth it. He couldn't live without Watanuki, he could barely survive with him, and he couldn't see how it could be any other way. His life was in constant juxtaposition with Watanuki's; the safest course was also the one most fraught with difficulties.

Once again, Doumeki found himself staring at the clock waiting for lunch, since it seemed he owed Watanuki an apology.

And the world keeps spinning round
And my world's upside down
And I wouldn't change a thing

The bell rang for lunch, and Watanuki's stomach twisted in time with it. Himawari bounced up beside him, store–bought bento in her hand. He felt a flash of guilt – she must've realized something was going on – before she asked, "Meeting Doumeki–kun for lunch?"

Watanuki swallowed against the lump in his throat. He'd get an ulcer if things kept on this way. "Yeah."

She leaned closer, her pretty face worried. "Are you okay? Did you…" she hesitated. "Is he mad at you again?" Her gaze flickered to his golden eye.

Yes. No. I would be. How to explain it to her? "Some… stuff happened over the weekend." He tried to give her a smile, hoping to soften the implications of his next words. "We still need to work it out."

She nodded sagely. "Have you asked Yuuko–san for advice? She's so good with things like that."

He resisted the urge to shout, she definitely is not! before he realized Himawari thought it was trouble of the standard kind, the occult and mystical kind. This time he managed to give her a tight smile. "We'll be fine, but thanks." He headed up toward the roof.

Maybe Doumeki needed more space. They'd spent nearly a solid week together; he hadn't practiced archery all weekend, let alone time to meditate. Plus Watanuki had interrupted his chores that morning. He couldn't help it, though. After the note, he'd wanted to see Doumeki so badly he had even been sloppy putting together the bento. Now he had slipshod food as a peace offering. Great.

Outside the access door to the roof, he set down the bento to reach inside a pocket and pull out the now–crumpled note. He read it twice. Doumeki wasn't petty. He wouldn't dissolve something they'd been building over two years over a disagreement. Even if it was the disagreement to end all disagreements.I wouldn't blame him at all. He gathered his courage and opened the door, stepping out onto the roof.

Doumeki was leaning against the fence, watching the door, lean and deliberate. Watanuki's heart did a backflip as he approached under his intense gaze. When he was a foot or two away, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Doumeki stared at him intently a moment longer, took the bento from his hand, set it on the ground, and crushed Watanuki to his chest.

He wrapped arms around Doumeki's ribcage, so grateful he couldn't think. "I didn't realize it would be that hard on you."

Doumeki laughed bitterly, his breath puffing against Watanuki's ear. "Here I was wondering how to phrase my own apology." He pulled back to look him in the eyes. "Comparatively, it's not that hard. Just different." He leaned forward to kiss Watanuki on the forehead, right above the bridge of his glasses. "It's what you want. I'll get used to it."

Because I'm the needy one, right? Watanuki shook his head, sitting down and unwrapping the bento. "I don't want you to have to get used to it. I want you to be happy, too." He snagged Doumeki's hand as he sank beside him, trying to convey how earnest he was. "I promised we were in this together."

Doumeki gave him a measured look that he couldn't begin to grasp. "As long as you're safe, I'm happy," he said, making Watanuki think, How long have you been telling yourself that lie? "What's for lunch? Do you have eggs today?"

"You are so high–maintenance," Watanuki fussed. Doumeki gave him an uplifted eyebrow, and he swallowed the rest of his complaint. "Yes, there are eggs."

Well I've got nothing else to lose
I lost it all when I found you
And I wouldn't change a thing

As the access door slammed shut behind them, Doumeki ran his hands through his hair to smooth it out. He considered growing it a little bit longer, like Watanuki's, so it wouldn't stick up so noticeably. If those roof lunches became a regular thing, it wouldn't be a bad idea.

"Tomorrow, too?" Watanuki asked, clattering down the steps ahead of him.

"Yes." Doumeki answered.

"Are you coming over tonight?"

"Yes."

Watanuki stopped at the bottom so they could walk side–by–side. "You can stay home to practice, if you need to."

Doumeki shook his head. "Don't have a meet for a while. And I've got practice after school tomorrow. So I'd rather spend tonight with you."

"Okay," Watanuki said, a flush crossing his cheeks. "See you after class."

"Yeah," Doumeki said, noticing how a knot of girls grew silent as they approached, headed by a glowering bleach–blonde from his class. She was watching Watanuki as if he was the devil. "See you."

Watanuki disappeared inside and Doumeki gave the girl a deliberate look, turning back to see Himawari wave through the window on the door. Watanuki's eyes followed the direction, and he smiled so brilliantly it was like looking at the face of the sun.

I hope this never wears off, Doumeki thought as he shook off the stun, bell clanging in the background.

No, you and I wouldn't change a thing

Himawari stood next to him at the gate, chattering about their next quiz, but Watanuki hardly heard a word. Doumeki had come out the front doors, striding across the lawn. His eyes were glued to Watanuki, unaware how conversations stopped as he walked past. Girls stared with wide eyes. Boys surveyed him, and then straightened their posture to mimic him. The whole campus took a collective, admiring breath and let it out on a sigh as they saw the misfits he was approaching. What a shame, Watanuki could almost hear them say. Doumeki was the most anti–social popular person in the school. And he wants me, Watanuki reminded himself with pleasure. So it doesn't matter. If only their whole dilemma was that simple.

Doumeki greeted Himawari, but his eyes were still on Watanuki. He turned away, trying to pick up the thread of Himawari's banter, trying to hear past the pulse in his ears. The three of them stepped out onto the street, finally headed home.

Spinning, turning, watching, burning
All my life has found its meaning

Doumeki knew he had to curb this fever eventually. He still had archery, he still had to take care of the temple. His life had been cramped enough without Watanuki as his boyfriend. But he'd come to learn that any situation involving the slighter boy was bound to make him lose his head a little. Ironic that he'd come to rely on the uncertainty.

So he gave Watanuki a fierce kiss goodbye and turned from his front door. "I'll be back," he told him. "Soon."

Watanuki nodded, slightly disappointed but resigned to it. "Okay."

Doumeki bounded down the stairs, out onto the street, and jogged home. He enjoyed the exercise, letting out some of the pent–up steam out. He finished up his chores, changed his clothes, kissed his grandmother on the cheek, and was out the door again.

Anything to be back with Watanuki.

Walking, crawling, climbing, falling
All my life has found its meaning

Doumeki came in the door without knocking, kicking off his shoes with an audible clatter and coming straight to the kitchen. He glanced around, taking stock of the pots and measuring spoons. "Can't you ever order take–out?" he complained. "I can't kiss you while I'm doing dishes."

Watanuki was surprised into a laugh. And he had once believed all Doumeki thought about was food. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," he said as he turned.

"Not really," Doumeki grumbled, pulling Watanuki against him. He stopped to savor the feeling of Doumeki's warm palm kneading the back of his neck before pulling away.

"We need to get out of my apartment more," he told him.

Doumeki eyed him. "I don't see why."

Of course he didn't. He'd be content to sit inside all day and never interact with anyone else. "You are so simple sometimes."

He received another look. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Watanuki laughed again. It got easier and easier every time. "Please do."

Doumeki abandoned the pot he was investigating and came up behind him, putting his hands on Watanuki's hips, burying his face in his hair. "Have I ever told you how charming you are in an apron?"

"Did you have this kitchen fetish before I met you?" Watanuki countered.

"Nope. You made me appreciate good food." Doumeki responded, sliding his hands across Watanuki's stomach. "Are you done cooking yet?"

Watanuki resisted the urge to smack him with a spatula. "Pervert."

"Hm." Doumeki nudged the spot right behind Watanuki's ear with the tip of his nose, breath tickling.

"Then again," Watanuki speculated aloud, "I might be developing a kitchen fetish of my own." Fire spread from Doumeki's hands, licking from the nape of his neck to his knees. He could feel Doumeki smile against his hair.

Tomorrow, Watanuki thought, will be one more hurdle, one more decision between pride and the best thing that's ever happened to me. But that's tomorrow. And this is tonight.

Doumeki's hands stilled around his waist. The voice he felt against his neck was concerned. "Kimihiro?"

Watanuki turned to face him again. Doumeki's eyes were molten gold, the color of the sun that Watanuki's life was starting to revolve around. He lifted a hand to his cheek, amazed at how Doumeki leaned into it and the heat that always clung to his skin. "Just remembering," Watanuki told him, "how glad I am to be in this with you."

Doumeki's eyes widened just a little, surprised, but he smiled. And that was all Watanuki cared about.

No, you and I wouldn't change a thing

(Because love is as complicated as it is satisfying.)