Ironic.
Summary: He bathes in irony. She in tears.
Disclaimer: If I owned XxxHolic, I'd be married to Watanuki now. Or He's with Doumeki. 8D
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Skin as soft as velvet, eyes as crimson as the wine swirling within her glass. She is beguiling. A succubus of time.
And he is a sinner.
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She can't blame him for giving in to his hormones. He's still a man, and she a lovely girl.
So why does it feel like drowning?
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He's a beautiful boy.
Yet he is dangerous. She realizes this as his nimble fingers sent chills running up and down her spine, as his mouth devoured every piece of her yearning soul- she realizes, with a grim smile, that he had long chosen to bathe in irony, in sin, to block the depressing thoughts away.
He isn't aware, though. She bathes in her tears.
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It's become a hobby. He's rarely gone home anymore.
She says hobbies tend to kill people, to lead them in ruin, but she had always said frightful things in the past, so he disregards her words and dismisses the topic with a gentle kiss upon a slightly protesting mouth. It is only a small tease; despite the growing discomfort between them, she appreciates his showing of her weakness. She appreciates the kiss.
"You enjoy it anyway," he whispers, smiling at her, his navy blue eyes twinkling with such honesty that she is greatly moved. A pinkish tinge colors her cheeks.
"Of course I do."
-
He constantly frets.
It is a worrying thing to see him so restless these days, mumbling incoherent things that even she couldn't understand; she is troubled to see him this way.
She knows it is Himawari. It is that girl, no doubt, that's causing Watanuki such pain. And though she would rather confront the girl, or at least squeeze the problems out of the young man, she doesn't. She knows that, if she did, she would only damage hitsuzen. It isn't meant to be.
So she fumes in anger instead.
-
Sometime she wonders who he sees beneath him when they do it. Although her being is more sensual than any others, knowing Watanuki, she knows he thinks of the person he loves in whatever he does.
So she wonders: is it her, or is it that damned other?
Who does he really love in the end?
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It only brings him pain to be with her. But he wants to.
Humans are wrapped in irony, like little toys encased in gift wrappings. And often, they are masochistic. Narcissistic. And other words that ended with -ic and sounded just as complicated. She wishes he wasn't.
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The years pass like sand through her fingers, and all the while she watches the days go by with a bottle of sake in her hand and a glazed look in her eye. The twins think she's in pretty bad shape; her hair hasn't been combed or ornamented in a while, her lovely crimson eyes now a dull shade with no mysterious spark within them; she is not well.
So it is with such great enthusiasm that they greet Watanuki who decided to come by one day. He hasn't visited for a while now, and the twins have been greatly disturbed; Maru thinks Yuuko and Watanuki aren't in love anymore, and Moro misses the steamy nights the couple would spend together. So much has changed between short intervals of time.
He's twenty-two now (or twenty-three; she's not quite sure), he has a job other than this. He has so many things to do other than this. The debt is long gone, and so she doesn't know why he had bothered to visit now, of all times- or why he had bothered to care.
Although she is happy to see him again, she knows he has something to ask for. Like grave news. It is right there, on his lips. How she wishes she could only kiss him to take the words away.
Maru and Moro, oblivious to the tension between her mistress and the man, circles Yuuko with their happiness. Together they chant, like a broken record, the man's name.
Yuuko decides to break the ice; if it is he who starts, the blow would only take her away, and she needs soft landing to keep her composure. She does not know how to really handle this, but she'll try. Damn hitsuzen, she thinks.
"You wish...to propose to her, correct?"
They are like poison on her tongue; she brought the bottle of sake to her mouth, drinking a bit, just to douse the pain.
It sounded like an accusation coming from her, and slightly Watanuki winces. Only a bit. He takes note of the edge in Yuuko's normally graceful voice; he longs to take away the pain somehow, but from where they're standing, there's no more of that. So instead of wrapping his long arms around her to lessen the cold reality around them, he stares at her, guilt and firm resolve swimming in his eyes, and he fears he would cry. He would not.
"I will."
She brings the bottle once more to her lips, draining it completely; she sighs in pleasure. Her lips tremble still.
Around her, the chanting of the two does not cease, like a cold reminder of another she had lost.
"Watanuki!"
"Watanuki!"
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It's hitsuzen she lives by, not irony.
But hitsuzen has always been ironic.
She hates her job now.
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He took her by surprise. She hadn't seen him approach, and her lips are smothered with his own; his movements are brusque and daring, and she moans slightly (in pain, he acknowledges with a smile), as he pushes her onto the hard wooden bench. The sand is kicked up around them, and if it weren't for Watanuki, she would have ended up in a coughing fit.
He had never been this vigilant before, but the sex is fast and she sees it all in a blur; his sweating face and the dark sky above them fill her sight, and she does not dare to look lower. She thinks idly why he had chosen a park as their solace; she wonders why nobody is around to see this. It's probably some ungodly hour in the morning.
Despite his hurried movements, they linger for a while in each other's embrace. He isn't sure how long they had done it, or how long the aftermath was, but it felt good for once to stay this way. Sex had always been time-deluding, so he thinks it is pointless to wonder how long.
She inclines her head to the side, the top of her head just under his chin, her cheek on his chest. He dares not smile. It hurt to try.
She mumbles in her slumber: "Watanuki," She says. It is surprising how much force the words had; how surprising that it is the only words needed to push him to the brink of tears.
-
'Ironescity' is obviously not a word, but coming from a drunken Mokona, it is sweet and cute to the ears.
And less menacing.
-
The twins are sad. She notices this again one dreary morning, when all of them were lounging in the main room.
"Is Watanuki still coming back?" Asks Mokona for them, and she hesitates to answer. Let them wonder. A minute or two would do.
"Two years," the fur ball adds, raising its two paws. "It's been two years since he last visited."
"Two years, Yuuko-sama!" chorused Maru and Moro.
"Two years!"
She doesn't reply still.
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He has changed so much. Three years, she counts.
She doesn't know whether it is a good thing or a bad thing, his coming back. She waits for him to say something, longs for the words playing on his lips, at the same time fearing the message he carried. Somehow, she wants to hug him instead, and cry.
It is entirely new, and awkward, to sit before an older Watanuki. He's wearing some slack pants right now, and a plain shirt. He pushes his glasses up with a finger, yet the silence continues. She knows he is finicky; she is too.
"I'm getting married. In a week." he says at last.
He doesn't choke on his words, and neither should she. "Congratulations. Are we invited?"
"Yes. Of course, Yuuko-san."
She stands and makes for her quarters, leaving Watanuki to his solitude.
She lets the tears fall.
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A week. It's so far away.
She covers her face in her hands. It's too far away, it can't harm her.
-
"Six days," Mokona says with a big smile. Apparently, he is excited.
She nods without a word.
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The days are too fast.
"Three more days!" Hollers Mokona, once more.
"Mokona, you don't have to- it's still--"
-
"- two days," she sighs. She is scared.
She wishes she would disappear sooner.
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She fingers the charms dangling around her kimono.
There is another presence in the room. "It's tomorrow, isn't it?"
She nods. His voice is teasing, menacing; still, she nods.
"It's going to end sooner or later anyway."
-
"It's today."
A movement, a sound of fabric grazing the mats, a chuckle.
He is a menace.
"Yes. Are you ready?"
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"Are you ready, Watanuki?"
He turns to greet his bride with a smile, a pink tinge staining his cheeks. "I am, Himawari. It's certainly a dream come true."
Himawari smiles sweetly at him, and somehow at the show of affection, his heart aches. He does not want hurt her.
"I'll see you then before the altar," she tells him, kissing his cheek. With that, she's gone the door slightly ajar.
He leans against the wall. "It's today," he whispers. "Goodbye."
"Oi."
Watanuki whipped around at the sound. It is all too familiar.
"Doumeki!"
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She's breathless.
"It's almost there," he says. "We're leaving in a few minutes."
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"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
He hates it when Doumeki says cryptic things like that. It annoys him greatly, and there's only one way to react to it.
"What do you mean? Of course I do! You bastard!"
Doumeki is serious. There is no time for fooling around. "Answer me," He says.
Watanuki stops for a moment, looks down. He's not sure himself but...
"I am."
...there's no turning back now.
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There are only two things right then that defined the phrase 'I do' with purpose.
As the wind whips around her, he takes her hand and asks, "Will you really let everything go?"
She whispers her reply. "I do."
She knows he is saying the same thing right now.
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"Will you, Watanuki Kimihiro, take Himawari as your lovely is wedded bride?"
It is with a brave smile that he says, "I do." And Himawari beams at him with love.
-
It's over.
...
YES IT IS. Oh my GAWD. That was a lousy ending. Dx I was planning to write a better end, really, but I ran out of ideas. And I was lazy. SO THIS WILL HAVE TO DO.
You guys can kill me now. D: