Then

"Not you."

That's the first thing he says, angry, hissing, biting his way into the carpet where Doumeki has him pressed. The worn-out threads cut into his hands, his elbows are ripped open and bleeding, and he's screaming and crying as he pronounces Doumeki's death. There is pain rippling through his body.

"Not you, god damn you, not you!"

And Doumeki wants to kill himself.

"Ah! Shit, shit," Watanuki weeps, his voice ragged with tears. "Shit. Not you!"

And Doumeki cannot cry.

"Please," Watanuki gasps, and that is what breaks Doumeki's heart the most. But he cannot stop. The demon has him, the demon is raping him as hard as it's raping Watanuki, with Doumeki's body as its puppet. Doumeki can feel his own nails sinking into Watanuki's back.

"Please," Watanuki says again. "Doumeki, please! Please! Fuck. Shit. Not you!"

Doumeki rails against the monster. He throws every bit of his strength into it, but he is a scrap of paper in a hurricane. He prays to every god that he knows. But most of all, he prays to Watanuki.

Watanuki, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God. I'm not strong enough. I'm not good enough. Watanuki. Watanuki Kimihiro.

Don't ever forgive me.

But Watanuki doesn't fight him. His hands rip at the carpet, struggle to pull himself away, but he doesn't turn on Doumeki. Where are your teeth, you idiot? Doumeki thinks desperately. Come on. Please, Watanuki. Fight me off. Kick me. Scratch my eyes out. Kill me. I deserve it. You don't deserve this.

"No! Not you. Not you." It becomes a mantra as Watanuki's voice starts to fade out. He's crying now, just crying, his motions slowing and his eyes dulling. Doumeki's vision starts to swim. But his hearing remains perfect until the moment he passes out.

And the last thing he hears Watanuki say, baleful and broken, is:

"I hate you."

A Later Part of Then

Doumeki blanks out, wakes up, throws up, and carries Watanuki's unconscious body to Yuuko.

No Time

When she comes to him in a dream that night, he asks her what she wants.

"Do you know why?" She asks him with sadness in her eyes.

Doumeki doesn't answer.

He slaps her, full across the face.

But just as in real life, he hits nothing where his hand should have made contact. Yuuko is already a foot too far back for him to reach. Her eyes are saying, Don't be so ungrateful. You're sleeping on my couch.

He yells at her. Guttural, wordless.

And she says, "Wake up. Watanuki needs you."

He wakes up.

Morning

The chair beside the bed seems to be designed for the penitent. Its back is hard and straight, and it sits a respectful distance from where Watanuki is staring into the distance. Doumeki does not speak.

The air around the bed stirs a little, the soft light of a spring morning breaking in the window. Watanuki curls his legs up to his chest. He sighs a little, and Doumeki wonders how either of them can possibly be alive.

"Doumeki?"

He looks up, but not at Watanuki.

"Thank you. For visiting. I mean," Watanuki says with a wan smile, "It's not like I've made any inarizushi or anything to bribe you with. After all, I'm kind of surprised that a pig like you can actually manage to get here without some wonderful food made by Watanuki-sama to fuel you! You must be starving these days. I bet you're eating cold instant ramen out of the fridge because you don't know any better. You're going to die early at that rate, not that I'll miss you or anything, because then I'll only have to cook for one and..."

Doumeki lets the words flow over him. They don't come anywhere near him, there is nothing of substance to hurt him. He hears only the "thank you," and chokes on its sweet intent.

Watanuki talks and talks. He tells Doumeki about the shop, about how Yuuko is busy with some strange otherworldly business, about how Maru and Moro delivered a note from Himawari for him, about how it's so good that the basement won't need cleaning for a bit because of the snake thing that got in last week and did a bit of straightening up (it owed Yuuko a favor). Doumeki doesn't reply.

At some point Watanuki realizes this, and he gets quieter for a minute.

"Hey. You. Big oaf. Are you listening to me?"

Doumeki nods at him, then pauses and shakes his head. He waits for hellfire and brimstone to rain down on him.

"Say something," Watanuki says sharply. But Doumeki can't. That's the one thing he can't do. He can't put into words how much he desires to hurt himself, but can't for Watanuki's sake.

There is silence between them.

Doumeki holds his hands against his thighs to keep them from shaking. He stares at the foot of the bed.

Watanuki notices, he thinks. Damn it. Watanuki. Watanuki has enough to worry about.

He stills the shaking by force of will.

You should have hurt me when you had the chance. Torn me into ribbons. Blood everywhere.

"Doumeki?" Watanuki says at last, quietly. "I'm sorry."

Doumeki's head snaps up. He glares at Watanuki and his knuckles go white on the sheet.

"Why the fuck..." he growls.

"I don't hate you," Watanuki whispers. He looks back at the sheets. "I don't. I'm sorry I said that. I know what happened, now. It wasn't your fault."

Doumeki stands up and walks out of the room.

Noon

Not you not you not you not you not you—

What? Would you have let someone else do it, Watanuki?

Evening

The world is an old woman to Doumeki, slowly wrapping a yukata around its frail waist. He watches the sun fade in the west. The yukata is dyed with the colors of the sunset. The world leans heavily on the edge of a warm night.

Yuuko stands beside him, sipping sake out of a black glass. "Who are you angry with." There's no question in her voice, because she already knows the answer.

"You," he tells her.

"Wrong."

"Me?"

"Closer."

He stares up at the sky and thinks about a young boy wrapping a yukata around his frail waist before bed. The yukata is a pure, pale blue.

"Why am I angry at him?" Doumeki asks at last.

"He hasn't come looking for you," Yuuko says simply. "He's waiting for you to go looking for him. And you know as well as I do that's in his nature. You can't fault him for it."

Doumeki looks at his hands.

She looks at him sideways, and he can see the dusk reflected in her red eyes. If there is a devil, it would have her face.

"It's in your nature, too," she notes, empties her sake glass, and disappears.

Night

Watanuki cries in his sleep.

Doumeki knows, because he can feel the wet tears on his fingertips.

Time

Doumeki takes to sitting on the porch next to Watanuki during the day. Watanuki sits in a chair, and Doumeki sits on the steps no matter how free chairs are sitting around. He drinks tea and says very little.

Watanuki tells him to go find a game for Maru and Moro, and rants when Doumeki just points at a ball lying in the yard (Maru and Moro love it).

Watanuki tells him not to nap in the sun on the wooden slats, and to go find a real bed.

Watanuki tells him to get back to school.

Watanuki tells him to stop being such a lazy idiot with eggplant for brains.

Watanuki tells him to shut up when he's saying nothing, just like old times.

Watanuki starts walking around again, and Doumeki starts learning to cook.

On an Unimportant Day

"Ugh, I'm tired." Watanuki yawns and rubs an eye with the hand not holding the duster. He puts it up on a shelf, unties his apron, and is halfway through stretching when he notices Doumeki reclining on the couch watching him. "Wha? You! Cretin! Get off my nice clean furniture! You're—you're sullying it!"

Doumeki cocks an eyebrow at him. "No."

"Hmph! And where is the great Watanuki-sama supposed to sit now, after a long day of work? Move!"

"Don't want to," he replies lazily.

"You're taking up the whole couch!"

Doumeki makes a noncommital grunting sound. Watanuki glares at him. "Fine," he says at last, icily. He marches over toward the couch and, in a highly Watanuki-ish and businesslike manner, grabs Doumeki's ankles, swings them off the side of the couch, and plops down with his arms crossed where Doumeki's feet once resided. Watanuki sticks his nose in the air. "It's my couch. I cleaned it," he says, by way of explanation.

Doumeki readjusts himself on the cushions and is very, very still.

Watanuki stares pointedly ahead, clearly waiting for a retort. When nothing comes out of Doumeki's mouth, he leans back and looks away.

"Oi."

"What, you bothersome couch-stealer?"

"You never look at me." He says it without emotion.

"Ha! Why should I look at someone with nothing beautiful at all in their ugly face? It'd spoil my appetite! You should know that."

"Oi."

Watanuki shuts up.

"Oi. Watanuki."

"What do you want?" comes the snappish reply.

"I'm sorry."

Watanuki curls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, looking straight forward. "Don't," he says quietly.

Not you not you not you not you not you—

"I shouldn't be here." Then where should I be? Doumeki wonders as he says it. How about buried? Yes. Dead and buried where you can't see me and be afraid of me and twitch whenever I walk by. If I had any compassion, I'd kill myself. He starts to push himself out of the chair.

"I said, don't."

He stands up and walks, fast, in front of Watanuki toward the door.

And he's stopped by a hand gripping his arm.

"You idiot, couch-stealing, oblivious, deaf, dumb, mute, and generally impossibly cretin," Watanuki spits, yanking hard on his sleeve. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Doumeki turns to look at him, the bent head, avoiding his eyes as he clings to Doumeki's sleeve like it's the last sane and solid thing in the world.

"Somewhere you can't be afraid of me," he says angrily, and rips his arm away.

And for the second time, he walks out the door.

Always

"The worst destruction is that wrought by a protector upon his charge." - A Book in the Temple Library

"Guilt destroys more thoroughly than destruction." - A Book in Yuuko's Shop

Later

The rain is a balm on Watanuki's hands, lips, his scalp running with cool rivulets as he stands outside the temple gates. Doumeki knows he is coming, and locks the door.

"Let me in," Watanuki says to the door, determined.

Nothing.

"You're standing on the other side. Let me in, damn it."

Still nothing.

"Doumeki?"

"Doumeki?"

"Please, Doumeki."

The door stays locked.

"It's not you...that I'm afraid of," he says at last. "Ok?"

He waits for a moment more. Then:

"I guess I'll go now. Hope you heard me." And he turns around, calmly, to walk back out into the rain.

Then he yelps.

Doumeki is standing on the steps behind him, hands in pockets.

Watanuki looks right at him. Then he puts down his bag slowly, walks up, and wraps his arms very carefully around Doumeki's shoulders.

Watanuki can smell the salt in the water on Doumeki's face.

Doumeki can't move his hands, can't move his body, can only manage to dip his chin a little and touch it to Watanuki's hair. He hates the choking noise he makes when Watanuki presses his nose into Doumeki's jacket.

Please. Doumeki, please! Please! Fuck. Shit. Not you!

Do you know what it's like to hear that? Do you, Watanuki?

What the hell. He knows what it's like to say that.

"Yuuko told me you weren't conscious... then," Watanuki says matter-of-factly. "But I think you were. I don't know why she lied to me."

Doumeki moves his head imperceptibly downward

"I could tell, you know. It... that thing twitched like it was fighting against something. It stopped, sometimes. Just enough that it wouldn't hurt. Quite as much. Anyway."

Doumeki presses his lips against Watanuki's hair, but does not kiss him.

"Thank you," Watanuki whispers.

Doumeki shakes his head.

And then he lets his fingers touch Watanuki's sides, very gently, loop around Watanuki's back, and pull him in. "Watanuki. Why you?"

"Hitsuzen, maybe," Watanuki mumbles bitterly.

And Doumeki pulls away, leans down, lifts him up and half-carries Watanuki inside, shutting the door behind them.

It could only be you.