Title: the man who was a butterfly

Fandom: xxxHOLiC

Characters: Doumeki, Watanuki (onsided Doumeki/Watanuki)

Rating: PG-ish?

Summary: "Your life—that's a dream. This is a dream, a dream in a dream." Watanuki loses his balance.

Warnings: a) Doumeki is OOC. For a reason. Which should be kind of obvious. Doumeki is very very sad and not at all hiding anything right now. And Watanuki's kind of out of it. But mostly because he's really unnerved.

b) This takes place sometime in the not-so-distant future. I'm keeping things vague because I obviously don't know what will happen. However, (SPOILERS for TRC 181) I know that part of what Watanuki 'did' was make the wish for Syaoran&Co, and when he lost his memories, this is sort of what happened. A little bit AU, maybe. I dunno.

c) The title comes from a story referenced by Haruka in the manga--the story of Chinese philospher Chuang-tzu, who said, "One night I dreamt I was a butterfly, and now I do not know if I am a butterfly dreaming I am Chuang-tzu, or Chuang-tzu dreaming I was a butterfly." That all being said, fic:

the man who was a butterfly

For a long moment, Watanuki isn't sure if he's dreaming or not. He's standing by the same porch he always sits one when talking to Haruka-san, the one outside Yuuko-san's house, but the person sitting there certainly isn't Haruka-san. Because he's not smoking, not smiling, and not looking at him.

No, this Doumeki is much more familiar, and drinking tea, and staring out into space. He's not smiling, but his face isn't that usual blank one, either. Instead, it's got this hopeless, empty look to it, haunted, almost. Doumeki might be his rival, but that look on his face is so heartbreaking that Watanuki can hardly stand it. Doumeki isn't supposed to look like that, dammit!

Doumeki doesn't look towards him, but he knows he's there, because suddenly he says, "Oi" in this very quiet voice.

Watanuki nearly snaps, 'My name isn't 'oi,' you big lug!' but he can't do it, he just can't, because Doumeki looks like he might break into pieces if someone yells at him.

Instead he goes to sit by him. "Is this a dream?" he asks.

Doumeki looks at him for a long moment, and on the wind, Watanuki suddenly hears a familiar whisper—Yuuko, serious for once: you've got to tell him, Doumeki-kun.

Doumeki nods. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah. It all is. It's all a dream."

Watanuki doesn't get it.

He looks at Doumeki and says, "Of course. What else would it be, now that you say it's a dream? It's not like the porch is a dream and the tree isn't."

Doumeki's face falls, if it can fall any farther. "I—" he says, and stops. "I didn't want to say it. That's not—not what I mean."

Watanuki frowns.

"Your life—that's a dream. This is a dream, a dream in a dream."

"What?" Watanuki asks.

"I'm a dream. Kunogi's a dream. Kohane-chan—she's a dream. Your parents aren't dead, you don't see spirits. It was all a dream. Yuuko-san did it—she says there was something you had to do, in this dream, something you couldn't do in real life. And you did it, but I don't know what it was."

Watanuki isn't sure he knows what it was, either.

"Is Yuuko-san a dream?" he asks finally.

Doumeki drinks his tea, as if he can't do anything else, as if he's gathering strength to speak, and says, "No."

"Huh?"

"Yuuko-san exists in all dimensions. A dream is simply another dimension, and so, Yuuko-san exists." Watanuki doesn't know what to think. Doumeki has to be telling the truth, because his face is still heartbroken and his eyes are sad, so, so sad. Now, he looks at Watanuki constantly, desperately, as if he's looking at him for the very last time.

And suddenly there's a shock of horror, because Doumeki said, I'm a dream. Kunogi's a dream. Kohane-chan's a dream— "You mean," he says, horrified, "You mean you don't exist? You're just…a figment of my imagination?" Or worse, he thinks, a figment of Yuuko-san's imagination.

Doumeki shrugs helplessly. "Maybe I exist. But the Doumeki you know—me—he no longer exists outside of you own mind. He never did." He chuckles a little bit, bitterly.

Watanuki has never heard Doumeki laugh before, and he never wants to hear it again, if it's always bitter and awful like that. "Nothing I know is real," he whispers.

Doumeki laughs again, not in reaction to Watanuki's comment, but more as though he's been lost in his own thoughts. "God," he says, staring at the sky, blinking furiously, and Watanuki looks at him. "I don't even exist, so how did I manage to fall in love with you?"

Watanuki freezes.

Ohmygod.

Doumeki sets down the tea and, setting his elbows on his knees, buries his face in his hands. "You're going to wake up, Watanuki," he says finally. "Soon. And we'll all cease to exist. Except you. And Yuuko-san."

Watanuki looks at him, and finally, touches his shoulder. "Doumeki," he says, unsure. "Doumeki—I'm sorry. I don't know—did you know?"

Doumeki shrugs. "Maybe. I don't know." He looks up at Watanuki. "I don't know anything much now. You're going to wake up." As if that explains anything, and Watanuki feels old familiar irritation lurking at him and wants to laugh at how odd everything--even that--feels.

The whole world seems fuzzy, except the porch and Doumeki, who is staring at him with those haunted eyes. "Watanuki. Watanuki, please, can I—" and he breaks off but Watanuki knows what he wants—because ohgod, this is his dream, after all—and nods.

Doumeki leans closer to him, and Watanuki closes his eyes, because he can't stand the look on Doumeki's face anymore. A soft finger touches his cheek, and then hands cup his face and a forehead presses against his own. "Kimihiro," Doumeki whispers, and then the hands and forehead are gone and he opens his eyes and Doumeki is standing on the other side of the yard, holding his bow, drawn.

"Kimihiro," he says again. "Kimihiro, wake up."

He lets the bowstring go.

Watanuki Kimihiro wakes up. Wakes up, to the blueblueblue eyes and gentle smile of his mother's face, in a bedroom that wasn't his, and in his head, he remembers two lifetimes—one, fuzzy and dreamlike, where he was an orphan who saw evil creatures and one, clear as a bell, when he lived with his parents and cooks and gets mediocre grades at best.

And his heart burns.