Fandom: xxxHolic
Characters: Doumeki Shizuka, Watanuki Kimihiro
Warnings/Ratings: None.
In A Nutshell: Regret.
Disclaimer: I don't own xxHolic.

Doumeki Shizuka, age twenty-five, might have been miserable if not for his utter ambivalence towards the world as a while. Slowly taking the reins of the company as his grandfather's health began to fail, also finishing up a doctorate degree in business from Tokyo University, and set to marry the highly desirable Kunogi Himawari, he barely had time to think, much less pray or visit Watanuki, which was the darkest part of the newest chapter of his life.

He'd managed to get a minor degree in religious studies snuck past his overbearing, ailing grandfather, but Doumeki knew now better than ever that it had never been about the religion, thought it was a good substitute fertilizer to keep him from withering away.

"Congratulations on your engagement! Isn't Kunogi-san the greatest?" Watanuki gushed. It had been three months since he'd last seen the blue-eyed man, and his own engagement was the last thing he wanted to talk about, but since it made his best and only companion happy, he was forced to oblige.

"Yes," dropped from his mouth, cold and unwanted, like a slug. The worst part of it was that she was the greatest, she had to be, for someone, but she just couldn't be the greatest, not for him.

"You don't sound very enthused. Why not? She's perfect!" He was indignant and red, forcing Doumeki's undesired desires up like a thorny rose blooming from the center of his chest and up his throat. It physically hurt to force them down after so long.

"So I've been told."

"Do you refuse to see it for yourself?"

"I see it perfectly well." In truth, Doumeki hadn't seen anything but Watanuki, not since eight years old, and without him, he was just a blind man groping around in the dark, making connection with nothing.

"You know, you should spend more time with your fantastic, darling fiancée than with a silly childhood friend," Watanuki reprimanded, the words significantly reducing Doumeki's ability to breathe.

"I should," he agreed, jumping from the good, old tree and landing with a thump.

As he half-jogged away, Watanuki muttered, "See you…"

Time was a train going by far too fast and Doumeki felt like a bug, splattered onto the front as it plowed through him, full speed ahead, until the point at which he'd be wiped free from it.

He didn't feel ridiculous climbing the tree, though he knew he should. He'd been too old for far too long to the point where he guessed it didn't matter anymore. He crept up on the dozing Watanuki, who leaned against the trunk with his eyes half-closed. He wondered if he should kiss him like that, while he was in a stupor, but guessed the time for that, too, had passed, like an evanescent summer day.

"I heard your wedding was beautiful," Watanuki remarked.

"Why didn't you come?" If Watanuki had been there, it might have been okay, but instead he felt as if he'd been ripped open, all his organs on display, as the masses of people he never knew and never would know looked on with tears in their cold eyes.

"I had shrine duties," he said, his voice dripping with contrition. "I really wanted to go, but I couldn't leave."

There was a pause as a bird landed on Watanuki's branch, noticed Doumeki, then fluttered away.

"Happy birthday," the golden-eyed man said, fishing a small, wrapped package from his pocket.

"You didn't have to get me a gift, really…"

"Open it." Watanuki did, looking at the gift curiously.

"Seeds. What type?"

"Tree."

"… What type of tree?" Watanuki sighed, cool breath tickling the hair on the back of Doumeki's neck, somehow.

The ex-archer shrugged. "Find out."

The blue-eyed man huffed. "Come with me," he demanded, hopping from the tree. Doumeki followed. They trotted to a small stretch of soil to the side of the shrine, where two shovels were conveniently located. Watanuki attempted to grab one, but his now-married companion shoved his hand away roughly.

"My present to you," he explained, thrusting the spade into the earth. Honestly, he just couldn't stand the thought of that moon-white skin being dirtied.

As he patted soil over the final hole, he reflected on the state of his filthiness and the fact that he'd been able to use his muscles, both making him excessively happy, no matter how sore he'd be.

"Himawari likes your gift," he said; not the gushing thanks she'd wanted Doumeki to give his best and only friend but good enough. The watercolor painting was beautiful and brilliant, filling him with wistfulness every time he saw it in the too-blank foyer.

"I'm glad," Watanuki replied, smiling softly.

"I have to go home now." The idea of a newlywed neglecting his gorgeous, young wife for another man could create media frenzy, one he didn't want to deal with just as much as he wanted to be with Watanuki.

"I'll see you Thursday, then," the object of his long-lived love asserted.

Thursday came.

Doumeki didn't.

Watanuki was happy just to wait.