Title: Alphabet Watanukis

Type: Painter Watanuki

Characters: Watanuki Kimihiro, Doumeki Shizuka, Kinimoto Sakura, Ichihara Yuuko, Clow Reed

Summary: Watanuki constantly thinks of his past. Will Doumeki be able to help him see past through his pain and live a better future?

It was two in the morning when the phone rang. It was frustrating. Doumeki barely even had time to sleep after reading through his notes for his exams tomorrow. He let out a grunt when the phone continued ringing. A few seconds later, the ringing stopped. He let out an exhale and was rolling over to his side when the phone rang again. He figured it must be important, for it to be ringing at this time. Maybe it was a professor who had taken a liking on him, deciding on a spontaneous homework before the exams. Or perhaps his mother forgetting that she's in a different time zone again. Or maybe Watanuki has a bout of insomnia attack again. Watanuki.

With him in mind, Doumeki quickly sat up and reached the phone on top of his bedside table before the ringing ends. "Hn."

"Doumeki-kun?"

It was Watanuki's adoptive sister, Sakura. If she was calling and not Watanuki…

"What happened?"

There was a sniff from the other end of the line which made his heart pound a little heavily. "Kimi-niichan, he's…"

"I'll be there in five."

xxx

The room was thrashed. Brushes and canvasses were thrown broken to the side. Globs of paint smeared the walls, as well as on furniture. There were even some wet ones on the corners of the piano. So this was the reason why he's been seeing Yuuko change the furnitures and wallpapers quite often.

He felt Sakura stand beside him, sniffing and wiping her tears off her cheeks. "Kimi-niichan has been at it for several hours already. Touya-niichan tried to stop him before but he's never succeeded so we barely try anymore." He glanced at her then back to the crumpled body of Watanuki inside his room. His hand fisting his hair. He noticed Clow has his arms around Yuuko in a corner, a grim look on both their faces.

He nodded briefly at them before walking towards Watanuki. Shades of blue were on the crumpled papers littered on the floor beside the lean boy. He knew that the boy felt his presence and was blatantly ignoring him, his focus on the canvas in front of him. He sat next to him and observed Watanuki. The boy continued painting on the canvas, became more frustrated and threw it to the wall, following the other garbage on that area.

"What's the matter?"

Although he did not make any movement, Doumeki could feel Watanuki prickle. The latter grabbed another piece of paper and brushed the same shade of blue on it. He showed it to Doumeki, who grabbed it in return. Inspecting his work carefully, he returned the paper to the other boy before replying. "Cerulean."

Watanuki looked at him in disbelief before eagerly grabbing another sheet of paper and painted a lighter shade of green.

"Lime."

This went on for about half an hour, Doumeki naming each color Watanuki presented him. Watanuki's work were not even considered artworks, according to the smaller boy so he humored him as long as he was not throwing things around. That was when Watanuki painted another shade of blue on the paper. Doumeki's brow raised before answering, "your eyes."

Watanuki froze, his eyes widening slightly, and stared at the boy sitting beside him, his cheeks reddening slightly. "S-shut up. What are you doing here anyway?"

Doumeki shrugged and yawned. He was glad the tense set on Watanuki's shoulders were gone. Shifting slightly, he leaned on Watanuki's back, ignoring his loud 'oi'. He was about to close his eyes when he felt Watanuki paint something on paper. He figured he'll be asking for another name for the color he'd been working on so he patiently waited.

Watanuki tch-ed, a blush adorning his face that he was glad Doumeki couldn't see. Having second thoughts, he crumpled the paper before straightening it out. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he crumpled the paper again and tossed it back to Doumeki.

Doumeki wondered why it took a few seconds to ask for a shade of color when he picked up the paper and straightened it out. He let out a confused 'huh' and answered, "gold." If Doumeki had turned at that exact moment, he would have seen the tips of Watanuki's ears turn red. "I was going to say your eyes, idiot."

xxx

Doumeki knew Watanuki was a talented person but he never did like telling him about it. He knew he would never live it down and Watanuki was the kind of person who'd rub something like that on your face. He liked how the colors would mix under Watanuki's artistic supervision. How the yellows and oranges turn to a perfect depiction of the radiating sun and all those greens and browns into lush fields.

But for as long as Doumeki had known Watanuki, he has never seen the latter finish any of his artworks. There was a troubled look on his face when he asked. "Ah. You noticed." He mumbled, his earlier spunk disappearing. Watanuki stared outside the window, probably reminiscing. "Father always tells me that when I paint, I should be able to put my soul in it, for it to be another extension of me, no matter if it depicts my most loved person in the world or just a simple mug." He chuckled, a fond smile on his lips. That was when Doumeki knew Watanuki was thinking of his late father.

Watanuki scratched his arm unconsciously, thinking of more words to say. "His paintings were the best. Mother and I would always get lost staring at one of his paintings. They were alive, you know. He puts his soul in his every painting and I wanted to do the same." His lips thinned out in a grimace. "That was before the accident."

Doumeki's eyes followed him as he sat down at the corner of his room. He looked as if he had been to one too many battles. Doumeki followed his urge to stay close to him and sat on next to Watanuki. The slighter boy chuckled softly before continuing. "Mother fell into coma and died after a week. Both of us were depressed. He wouldn't want to go out of his room, wouldn't want anyone to see what he was doing. I was suffering, I was sure he knew, but it must have been more difficult for him, to lose the person who means everything to you. I've never judged him. Even now." He said, looking at Doumeki, a wry smile on his face. "He refused medical aid, insisting he had suffered only a less severe trauma. He even refused to see me. He barely ate or do anything other than paint. The day he went out of his room was the day I saw his last painting. It was Mother, the most perfect painting I have ever seen."

Watanuki's knuckles were white but that wasn't the thing Doumeki was worried about. He was trembling, his shoulders were hunched more than usual, his posture tense, like he was going to bolt out any minute. He abruptly covered Watanuki's hand with his. The trembling stopped instantly. He shot the latter boy a glance and saw his eyes shut tight.

"Father died a few days after the painting."

Silently, Doumeki pulled Watanuki to him, resting his forehead on the latter's. Soon, teardrops fell both on their hands, cleansing Watanuki's mind and soul.

xxx

"Paint me."

The palette he was holding fell on the floor. There was a big blot of light yellow on the canvass. "W-what?! NO! Get out from here!"

"Paint me." Doumeki repeated, ready to dodge if Watanuki was inclined to throw his brushes and oil paints on him. It wouldn't be the first time.

"No." He was more surprised of the mumbled answer. "Lord knows you have my heart. I'm not ready to give you my soul yet."

Reverently, Doumeki cupped Watanuki's cheek and ran his thumb under his right eye. "Give me anything, I'll return everything."

xxx

I'm pretty sure I wanted it to end this way but phew. This is the first story I've had in years and I hoped you liked it!