Any Worst Requests

Yuuko wished for him to keep on living. But no one can prevent the inevitable.

→O

Scream. The buildings screeched as metal scraped downwards, buckling against the earth.

Scream. Gormless faces in the street turned white before they turned to run.

Scream. The beast yelled in frustration, swiping invisible claws at the earth. The only one who could see it was locked away.

The only one who did not scream was Doumeki.

Instead he dived aside, behind a tall red fence, as the creature tore another innocent building from the ground. His lungs threw out breaths and he struggled, with limbs made of rubber, to fit the arrow - another stumble of the fingers and it tumbled to the shaking earth.
The archer cursed his grazed hands and the rough wood and risked another glimpse at the thing, taking aim with his heart and not his eyes, exactly the way Watanuki had told him he -

Watanuki.

Suddenly Doumeki could not see; eyes or heart. He snapped his back against the fence. That was why the buildings had looked so familiar - it wasn't the pang of watching demons slice walls and workers, this time. The city was far enough away, but a wrong turning for something this big...

It was a footstep away from the shop.

Doumeki cursed more loudly. He jerked his bow into the air, and fired with a yell.

The tiny arrow seemed to move slowly, tentatively, towards the beast. It shuddered against air - against flesh?
There it was - that stillness against the sky. The clouds still raced around the silhouette, but in that patch they had been petrified. Then wind spiralled across the body as it turned.

It roared. It charged.

"No, no, no," Doumeki muttered. He darted along the fence, flipping his body over it at the end. He ran away; away from the shop but towards the monster. Could he distract it? Could he outrun it? He didn't know - all he did know was that he couldn't risk Watanuki.
It was close. He could feel its breath. It was achingly hot, and too heavy, like acrid tears against his neck.

There was no chance to run now. He flung his bow against his shoulder backwards, firing in desperation. A howl came from behind and he angled himself the way of home, racing so fast he couldn't feel his feet; only the current ripping in and out of his lungs.
The shop was in sight. He flung his last arrows and tore at the entrance. The handle almost didn't seem real, too smooth against his hot skin; but the thing behind him was real and rough and just as heated and so nearly against him-
Doumeki slammed shut the door and pressed his back against it as he had done to the fence. He made no sound, but his chest moved violently.

Watanuki was stirring something delicious that smelled of chicken and warm spices. He stepped from side to side, leaning up to shelves and tilting shakers into the pot. His working hum was jovially oblivious. It stopped when he heard the door.
"Doumeki? Is everything okay?"

He breathed. "'Ss fine," he lied, sweat sliding down his face.

He could almost hear the boy's frown. "Whatever. Here, try this."

Doumeki slid away from the door, giving it a cautious glance as he stepped into the kitchen. Nothing burst through.
"Doumeki-" Watanuki burst at him. He brandished a spoon. The archer swallowed quickly, scalding his mouth, leaving a faint pepper taste and nothing more.

"It's good. I like the pepper."

Watanuki scrutinised his face. Then he met Doumeki's eyes, and ducked his head away. "I heard noises," he said.
"Nothing to worry about."
Again, that silent frown. Was it really there, or was it just a manifestation of the guilt Doumeki felt when he lied about this?
Watanuki turned back round. Oh boy, the frown was real.
"You can't keep doing this," he snapped. "Coming in late and shaken, and looking so...so...well-" he flushed. "I can't help but. Um."
"Worry?"
"That-no! It's just-no!"
Despite himself, the man smiled. "You don't have to worry about me. I have your ring, remember?"
"I do not...that is to say, I shouldn-I-oh, shut up," he grumbled, failing again to scare away the man's smirk with a stutter.

Unfortunately for Doumeki, that smirk came at a price. Every time Watanuki acted so adorably agitated, it signified a long period of silence. Sighing over his sacrifice, he made his way back into the hall, where he collided with the twins.

"Master is angry," Maru commented.
"Angry, angry!" Moro agreed.
Their wide, clear eyes looked all the way up at him. He ruffled their soft hair slightly. There was something concrete about the small girls, to him, in the way they were linked so intrinsically to the shop. It was reassuring - they grounded it here. It was safe as long as they were, and they'd never had a moment of danger. "I'll make it up to him. There's extra sake I bought yesterday that he doesn't know about."
"Sake, sake!" The young children danced and clapped and sang songs of alcohol.

A thud sounded at the door. It was echoed by Doumeki's heart. He nudged Moro ("Sake! Sake! Drunken drinky!") aside and moved closer to trace its wood with the side of a finger. Nothing could get in - he knew that. All the same, his pulse remained vigilant. He wouldn't dare to go outside again tonight.

That meant another torturous night of staring at that silky face and tangled black hair.

Even now that burn of guilt and pleasure flared when Watanuki tugged back tangles of that black hair and framed that silky face with knotted cloths to made Doumeki's favourite foods...or when he ate it all, maybe even complimented the meal, and the pink came in his cheeks. And if Watanuki dared to whisper "thank you" in reply, if affected Doumeki in ways that normal shivers didn't. It was so awkwardly incredible, and it made him want to...to...

Scream. With frustration; frantic-eyed, punching-the-wall frustration that he could feel this way about a friend, someone he was supposed to protect.

Scream. With lust. Roving eyes and watering mouth and confusion - or was it disgust?

Scream. With terror. The boy they sought was weakening. The monsters outside were strengthening. Little stood between.

The only one who did not scream was Watanuki.

Yet.