The customer was gone and Watanuki thought for a moment, a brief, hopeful moment, that he'd taken equal payment. He was doing it more and more lately, or at least closer to it than before.

But not today.

Watanuki was cleaning up the tea set when he felt a sharp slash across the right side of his face. It was quick, it was precise, it was painful, and it could have only come from the shop.

He fell to his knees, and looked down to see blood on the front of his kimono, and more was dripping, staining it even further. A shame, this was a beautiful robe and, who knew how old.

Oh god.

Oh god, he was bleeding all over it.

From his face.

He put his hand to his cheek and found it was wet and warm and it hurt when he touched it and now that he was paying attention it stung and he pulled his hand away to find that it was as bloody as the kimono and it was still dripping.

The shop had taken a number of payments from him over the months - more than he'd care to admit to anyone - but it wasn't ever on his face. This… this wasn't how the shop worked, right?

Then again, since when did Watanuki know anything about the shop? He knew nothing about this shop and yet he tied himself to it and here it was slashing him across the face.

He quickly pressed his hands over the cut - you're supposed to put pressure on it, right? how much? for how long? what then? It was still bleeding though, despite him pushing on it - wasn't that supposed to stop it?

What was he supposed to do?

"Maru! Moro!" he called, and he tasted blood as he opened his mouth.

The girls came running, bandages in tow. They always seemed to know.

"Is Watanuki okay?" they asked in unison, brows knit and faces grim.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to smile, but it pulled at his cheek and it stung. He curled against the leg of the table, making an effort not to panic. If he panicked, then the girls would panic. "I'm fine," he repeated - maybe saying it would make it true.

Maru handed him a clean cloth of some sort, and he held it to his wound with one hand and stared down at the blood on his other.

Far more blood than he would like to see from a face wound. Or any wound, for that matter.

He leaned back and took a breath.

"Maru. Moro. Could you bring me the telephone?"

They nodded and brought it to him promptly, then sat down next to him, holding hands.

He wiped the blood off his free hand as best he could, and dialed the number quickly, memorized by now, and hoped, prayed he would pick up.

/

Doumeki was studying. Well, attempting to study, with the books laid out on the low table and the floor, and him fighting the urge to lay down and close his eyes. His college entrance exams were coming up, plus finishing out his last year of high school, and he was completely swamped. Running other errands for Watanuki and making sure he was alright took up any other energy he had, so Doumeki was ready for bed at six in the evening.

He did close his eyes then, and rubbed them. More and more he was wondering what the point was. School would only eat up more of his time, and how could he think about college when his best friend was trapped in a magical shop and could never leave. His mother worried, and his father had already lectured him once on his focus. He knew his grades had dropped. His archery had suffered from his constant tiredness, and at this rate he wouldn't get into the college that he'd wanted.

Doumeki looked at the practice exam and sighed.

"Shizuka, the bath is ready," his mother said, and Doumeki started, looking up at the door. His mother stood there, looking at him in concern. "I called you twice already."

Doumeki lowered his head. "Sorry, mother."

She bit her lip, and then came further in. "Shizuka, are you alright? These past few months seem like you haven't been yourself. Did something happen?"

He looked at her, wondering what on earth he could say that wouldn't be a complete lie. She didn't even remember Watanuki.

"I'm alright, mom. Just studying a lot. I'm tired."

She smiled, still looking worried, and patted his arm.

"Alright. Don't fall asleep in the bath, okay?" she said.

"Right," he replied, closing a text book in gratitude. She smiled at him, and left the room.

Then, his cell phone rang, blaring out and making him open his eyes wider to try to wake up. He moved over and answered it, not looking at the caller ID.

"This is Doumeki," he said.

There was a slight breath, away from the receiver, and then the caller spoke.

"This is Watanuki. Could you come by the shop when you get the chance?" he said, and Doumeki narrowed his eyes. He sounded… off. Like he was concentrating too much on sounding normal. Watanuki so rarely called him, usually it was to bring him some food, or to come get the trash. This sounded different.

"...Sure," he said, slowly. "Did you need anything in particular?"

"I'm not sure yet," Watanuki said, and then there was hiss, like he was in pain. Doumeki frowned in alarm. "I'm running low on bandages though."

"You're hurt." Doumeki was already moving, taking his phone with him to the hall closet where they kept their medicine box. It had been well stocked, but lately he'd had to raid more and more items from it.

"Mm," Watanuki said, "Just a little."

He opened it, not sure what he'd need, and then closed it, and just tucked the box under his arm.

"You've never called me for just a little." Doumeki moved out of his family's temple, and across the yard at a jog. "Are you bleeding?" he asked, the street moving quickly beneath him.

Watanuki laughed, or he tried to. The sound was strangled, and then there was a second noise that jarred though his chest.

"It's not that bad, I'm sure," he said, his voice just...not right, with something close to fear or pain in it. Doumeki started to run full tilt, the medicine kit swinging from one hand, and his phone clamped to his ear.

"You don't know?" Couldn't he see? Where was the wound that he didn't know how much he was bleeding? Or had he already lost enough blood to be confused?

"It's okay, I'm fine," Watanuki said, sounding like he was trying to comfort Doumeki, or maybe himself. It didn't seem to be working for either of them. "I'm in the sitting room."

Doumeki was turning down the street, and he could see the shop between the tall buildings.

"I'll be there soon," Doumeki promised, hoping that Watanuki didn't need anything more than what was in the kit, and pushing away thoughts of blood and being unable to stop it. "Keep talking."

"It's not that bad," Watanuki said, but his voice was quivering.

"Then why did you call me?" Doumeki demanded, crossing through the gate. "I'm here."

"I know," and then there was a click as Watanuki hung up the phone. Doumeki flew into the shop, kicking off his shoes and nearly tripping over the wooden step, before running into the sitting room. Watanuki was on the floor, sitting up and not surrounded by a pool of blood, so it was better than his fears had conjured, but he was pale and trembling, with blood smeared on his face and a red soaked rag pressed to the right side of his cheek. His eyes looked bright and scared, and there was tear trail on the other side, in a clean track through rusty stains. His face was still and impassive.

Watanuki swallowed, and spoke.

"I thought I had it," he said, wide eyed. Doumeki assumed he meant the price. He broke out of his pause, and came forward, kneeling in front of Watanuki on the floor, frowning hard. Watanuki was clutching the soaked rag to his face, and there was far too much blood for the length of time (depending on how long it took Watanuki to call him, hopefully not very). Doumeki reached out, and pulled on Watanuki's hand, trying to see, and after a moment Watanuki stopped resisting and let him. He closed his eyes, and winced as the cloth came away.

The cut was long and scarily deep, running from his cheekbone to almost the corner of his mouth. New blood welled up quickly, and it alarmed him to see how much it was still bleeding. Doumeki replaced the rag, though it hadn't been doing much, soaked through as it was, and pressed Watanuki's hand back to his face.

"It looks deep," he said, around a surge of fear. This is what he'd been afraid of, a wound too deep for just bandages to hold it closed. Any other person he'd take to the doctor, but Watanuki couldn't leave the shop.

Watanuki's hand was trembling against his face, and he kept his eyes scrunched tight.

"So, I'll need one of those large bandages and I'll be careful for a few days," he said, breathing deliberately. "You brought some, right?"

The calm, cool shopkeeper he'd seen for months was gone now, and Watanuki shook against his tears. Doumeki didn't want to say it, as if he could keep it from the truth by keeping quiet.

"I think it needs stitches."

Watanuki nodded, and slumped against the leg of the table, looking afraid and resigned.

"What do you need?"

Doumeki swallowed, trying to recall the books he'd read (dammit, if only he'd taken a class). "A curved needle. Black thread. Rubbing alcohol. Gloves." Other things that they didn't have in either kit, and had no way of getting now, like scalpels and forceps and clamps that he barely remembered the names for. Hopefully he'd be alright without them. "I need to wash my hands," he said, almost as an after thought.

"Maru, Moro," Watanuki said, and the girls quickly stood from their worried kneels.

"Maru will get the needle and the thread!"

"Moro will get the alcohol and the gloves!"

They ran off in opposite directions, and Watanuki turned to Doumeki and opened his eyes. He looked solemn, afraid, but the tears had receded.

"Go wash your hands."

Doumeki nodded and stood feeling a weakness in his knees that he steadied with effort. He walked to the bathroom, scrubbing his hands hard in the stream. When he returned, the supplies were laid out on a tray, and Watanuki was sitting back against the edge of the couch, hand pressed against a new towel on his face. It was starting to get stained through as well, and his kimono was ruined, with blood dripped all down the front, and spattered on the sleeves. Maru and Moro hung back now, clasping each other's hands.

Watanuki looked a little calmer, and turned to Maru and Moro.

"Girls, go find Mokona and play a game," Watanuki told them. "I'm fine." He tried to smile, but halted it in the middle, as it must have pulled on his cut. They nodded, and left slowly towards the inside of the shop.

Watanuki looked back at Doumeki and blinked at him. Doumeki had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his wrists felt exposed and awkward as he knelt in front of Watanuki, and pulled on the gloves. Everything he needed, from the shop's first aid kit, and apparent medical supply cabinet, as well as the things from his own, had been laid out while he was gone, with the tools he'd need to use soaking in rubbing alcohol like they were supposed to be. The needle was threaded already, and only needed to be picked up.

Instead, he leaned forward and took Watanuki's chin, pulling away the cloth, and feeling Watanuki's tension. He examined the cut for a moment, again, looking at what he'd need to clean it out. Luckily, the shop's payments were precise and there was no jagged edges or debris inside. He swallowed, met Watanuki's eyes for a split second, and then set to work. This part he was well practiced at. He'd done this before, more than a handful of times, when Watanuki had misjudged. This was slightly worse than he'd seen, but still the same basically, so he focused on not thinking ahead. Just clean and dab, and ignore the way that Watanuki's eyelids closed again tight against the sting, and his hands clenched on his knees. Doumeki sat a little angled from Watanuki, holding his chin firmly with his left hand and reached over to dab the right side of his face. It was awkward to reach, and would be worse when he was trying to sew-

His fingers slipped on the tweezer holding the cotton ball, and Watanuki winced.

Doumeki jerked back slightly, then started dabbing again.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"Mm, 's fine," Watanuki said, through clenched teeth.

Doumeki finished cleaning, and then set the cotton ball down. He took a breath and then picked up the needle and thread, holding it gently. He saw Watanuki sneak a look at his hand, and then close his eyes again, looking sick. Doumeki felt sick too, and he wished that he could close his eyes against this. But it had to be done. Watanuki's wound was still open, and sluggishly leaking blood. It gaped wide, and obviously would pull open at the slightest movement from Watanuki. He normally didn't scar, but if Doumeki left this, he felt sure there would be a jagged mess and then where would his shopkeeper act be?

But if he did this and messed up, then wouldn't it be the same? He'd make it worse by trying to fix it inexpertly. He couldn't do this. He had the barest of first aid training, and his fingers were thick and broad and not meant for delicate work.

Doumeki realized he was stalling, even panicking, and so he took a calming breath, like the one he'd take to aim and shoot an arrow. His fingers could sew tiny stitches to attach fletching to the shaft, and his hands were broad because they could notch and arrow and pull. He could do this.

He reached for Watanuki's face, then draw back, realizing he'd need both hands for this.

"Hold as still as you can," he said to Watanuki, and his body tensed further, doing as he said with no complaint. Doumeki touched the edges of the wound. Like he'd seen before, it was clean and straight and should be easy to stitch up. He pulled it closed, and began.

It didn't actually take all that much time to finish sewing Watanuki's wound closed with tiny, precise stitches. Almost as small as the fletching on an arrow. Doumeki lost his panic as he did it, even as his glove tips were slippery with blood, and with Watanuki tensing and relaxing in intervals under his hands. The skin came together obediently, and he tied each knot, careful not to pull.

And then it was done. It looked ghastly. The black stitches stood out against Watanuki's white skin, and blood was smeared all over his face. Doumeki wet a rag with the warm water the girls had brought (they'd thought of far more than he'd remembered) and began to wipe off Watanuki's face, gently wiping away the mess and cleaning up the sweat and tears under his hairline and eyes. Watanuki kept his eyes closed, but relaxed a little as Doumeki took the time to do this, before patting the whole area dry with another rag. He gently stuck on a square of gauze and then sat back on his feet.

Watanuki seemed to take that as a cue to open his eyes, and he looked down, cross eyed at his own face before looking back to Doumeki.

"You learned first aid," Watanuki said, his face stiff with the bandage.

Doumeki nodded, shaken. I had to, because I'm the only one who can help you, and that's terrifying.

He bowed his head, and stripped off the gloves, balling them up with each other, blood hidden inside latex. Then, he dropped them on the tray and stood up. The shaking that he'd suppressed was beginning again, in his knees and elbows, and kind of around his throat, and he just-

"I need to wash my hands," he said, and left quickly. Doumeki didn't stumble on the way back to the bathroom, but it was a near thing. Inside the room, he scrubbed his hands and then scrubbed them again, wetting the edges of his sleeves and turning his knuckles red raw. Then, he dried them off, and clutched the towel for a moment, before stepping backwards from the sink, away from the urge to wash again. There hadn't even been blood on his hands, because of the gloves.

It was hitting him, truly hitting him, that they were alone here. Doumeki was alone in this. Watanuki was dependent on him the way even a child never was. A parent had outside resources; babysitters, friends, family, doctors… Doumeki was responsible for Watanuki's food, and health and now stitching wounds, and he couldn't-

What if it was worse next time? What if it was more than what could be read about in books? It was only luck that he'd even thought to read ahead anyway. Doumeki put a damp hand to his face, and then slid down the wall of the bathroom, shivering at the cold tile against his neck. What would he have done, if he hadn't been able to remember?

There was noise at the door, and Doumeki looked up to see Maru and Moro standing with their hands clasped, and sadness on their faces.

"You fixed the master," Maru said.

"You fixed Watanuki," Moro said after.

"But there's no one to fix you," they then said together. Doumeki's throat tightened, and he lifted his arms, just slightly, but it was enough for them. They sailed forward and tucked their arms around him, their heads under his chin. They were warm and childlike, and comforting in his arms.

He sat there for a long while, while Maru and Moro huddled against him, breathing slowly. Doumeki found himself matching their breaths, and the calm they brought.

Doumeki had known that this would be hard. When Watanuki had made the decision to stay in the shop, to stop aging and wait for Yuuko to return, Doumeki had felt his steady life tipping out from under him. It was frightening, to realize that someone else's choice could flip his own world upside down, but he'd made his own choices beforehand that had made that so. And as the weeks and months went on, he realized that he was still waiting too, for everything to go back to normal. Doumeki had considered this as some temporary hell to just get through...but this would be the norm for the rest of his life, and Watanuki's (which would be much longer now). This was reality now, and Doumeki needed to shore up his strength. He had to live in the outside world, after all. He needed to go to school, and work, and live, moving forward even with his heart tied here in the shop with a boy who'd never grow up. The thoughts were scary, uncomfortable, but necessary. He couldn't lose himself, not if he wanted to be there for Watanuki.

Doumeki sighed a little, and moved the girls back.

"Thanks," he said, and they nodded at him, eyes wide.

"Doumeki is a part of our family." Maru said.

"Doumeki helps, when we can't," Moro continued.

"Maru and Moro should thank you," they finished. Doumeki felt touched, and put his hands on both their heads, before standing. He had to go find Watanuki, go clean up. He couldn't hide forever.

/

Watanuki slumped against the couch as he watched Doumeki rush out of the room.

Doumeki had taught himself this. In preparation. Watanuki hadn't even considered it. He hadn't really considered anything about this. Just did it. Confined himself to the shop without stopping to think about all that entailed.

But Doumeki… Doumeki thought of everything. Doumeki bought him takeout and bandages and everything Watanuki hadn't even thought about. Doumeki had brought all the things from Watanuki's old apartment - everything from the blender to his schoolbag. Doumeki was the one keeping him on a schedule of sorts (eat meals at this time, don't sleep at that time, go to bed it's late). Doumeki kept in touch, checked on him, hell, he even took out his trash.

Doumeki had learned how to stitch a cut for him.

What else had he done? What else was Doumeki doing for him that Watanuki didn't even notice? Where was he even getting the money for the food?

And what was Watanuki doing in return?

Nothing.

Nothing but drinking and smoking and sleeping and expecting Doumeki to just be there. Which he always was.

Watanuki would have to do something, because this wasn't working. This constant take, it… it was hurting him. Not in the same way the wishes did, but it was hurting him, it was hurting Doumeki, he'd have to…

Watanuki didn't know. Maybe he'd just cook more than a few times a week, and something decent. Give him his savings that he'd completely forgotten about (that money still exists, right?). Fix his own wounds, work harder on prices and wishes, drink less, do… something.

He managed to stand up, and made his way to the closet to change. The kimono he wore was now stained with blood and he didn't want to see it, didn't want Maru or Moro or Mokona or Doumeki especially to see it, so he tossed it aside, not bothering to fold it correctly as he nearly always did lately. He grabbed a very reasonable yukata and tied it around himself, then hurried to the second bathroom to wash up. He avoided the mirror for now (he could feel it, could see the bandage on his cheek, there was no need for the reminder, he knew, he knew how stupid he was and now all his customers would too, at least until it healed) and scrubbed his hands clean with hot water, then exited to the kitchen, grabbing a pen and paper on the way.

He sat on the counter, and with an unsteady hand, he made a grocery list. Everything he'd need for a fully-stocked kitchen for the next week or two. He'd have to find his school bag to get his wallet, but he had a vague idea on where it might be.

The decision was made, he'd stick with it. He'd cook this week. Even if he didn't want to, he'd cook. For Doumeki, for himself, for the girls and Mokona and Yuuko, too. Yuuko would be giving him an earful right now.

A pang went through his chest at that thought, but he didn't let it distract him from his list. He finished it quick, hoping his handwriting was at least somewhat legible, and waited for Doumeki to finish up in the bathroom.

He was about to hop off the counter to search out his bag instead when he finally heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen. He startled, dropping the pen on the floor in time for Doumeki to enter the kitchen, expression unreadable for the moment, and Watanuki hoped his words would come across how he meant them.

"D-Doumeki," he said, sitting up straighter as he worked on the phrasing he would inevitably ruin.

Doumeki entered, and picked up the pen from the ground to hand to him. Even that he did for Watanuki.

"I made a grocery list," Watanuki told him, taking the pen from his hand quickly and putting it aside. "I need every item on that list, or you'll just have to go back, so don't mess up. Make sure you get the freshest vegetables, and don't you dare buy anything close to its expiration date." God knew he'd forget the date and try to use it and ruin an entire meal. "I also want a better pair of cooking chopsticks - mine are bent."

He took a breath, gauging Doumeki's reaction before continuing. It didn't seem to be anything negative though, so he kept going.

"I think I know where my old school bag is. My wallet is in there and should have a some money and a card with decent amount of savings. When I find it, you take it. I can't use it here, so there's no point."

His heart was beating fast and he was still shaking and he didn't know why, so he took another breath, trying to calm himself down.

"In the meantime, whenever you want a decent dinner, go shopping."

With that, Watanuki shoved the paper in Doumeki's direction. The action was harsh, but his expression he kept soft, and not just because anything else would have pulled at his stitches.

Doumeki lifted his eyebrows as he took the paper and looked it over. It was an extensive list, full of everything he could think of for the meals he was planning, a number of Doumeki's favorites included. Watanuki owed him more than that, he knew, but it was a start.

"You have money for groceries?" was Doumeki's reply.

Watanuki frowned (which hurt, so he tried to keep it to one side of his face), though he appreciated the very Doumeki-like reaction despite himself.

"Don't get too excited, it might not work," he clarified. "I don't know if the account is still active or not, considering… But it should be." He hoped. "I need to find my bag first and then you can try it."

Doumeki nodded and put the grocery list in his pocket, then pulled himself up onto the counter.

"Sure," he agreed, settling back.

"I'm not cooking tonight, you know," Watanuki said, still frowning as Doumeki sat next to him. No, not tonight. He needed to clean and prep first and he wasn't even sure that he had rice. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow, if you can manage that."

"Mm," was Doumeki's apparent agreement.

They sat there on the counter, Doumeki barely responding and Watanuki frowning at him and for a split second it was nostalgic. And the nostalgia still hurt, because Yuuko was there in the past and she wasn't here now and how could that be okay, but for once it felt nice. More just the distant familiarity they sometimes found, and less the heart-wrenching reminder that everything was different and wrong and incomplete.

"I'll clean up," Watanuki told him suddenly. "Before you bring back my groceries, I'll clean up. The sitting room too."

"You should rest," Doumeki said, taking a breath and sliding off the counter. "Do you want ramen?"

Watanuki considered it and…

"Yes," he decided. He was still nauseous, but he could tell part of that was probably from hunger, and besides, this would be Doumeki's last night of cooking, so he may as well eat it. "You want a drink from the back?" Doumeki accepted about half the time as of late, and tonight was really up in the air, but it was rude not to offer.

"Not tonight. You lost a lot of blood," Doumeki reminded him as he got out the pot and filled it with water.

And there wasn't even the usual tang of disappointment at a lost drink.

"You're eating the egg too."

"I'll eat it," Watanuki assured him, rolling his eyes. "Would you like tea instead?"

"I'll make it," Doumeki said, setting the pot on the stove and grabbing the teapot.

Watanuki scowled at him, then winced at the pain in his cheek.

"Give it to me," he said, sliding off the counter to grab the teapot from Doumeki. "I don't like the way you make it anyways." A lie, but god, Watanuki had to do something.

So Doumeki made ramen and Watanuki made tea and both were admittedly subpar but considering the evening they'd had, it didn't really matter.

When they were finished, Doumeki stood. "I have to go study," he announced. "Call me if you need anything. I'll bring the groceries tomorrow."

And he was studying for school. Of course. School was still happening. The world kept moving outside and Watanuki had completely forgotten about it all. (Forgotten, or didn't care?)

"Go, study. I'm fine here," he said, waving a hand at the door. "I'll find that bag."

Doumeki nodded and left, and Watanuki watched him go and breathed out a sigh when he felt Doumeki leave the barrier. Then he stood up, leaving the mess for just the night, and headed to the bedroom to sleep. Tomorrow was a new day, and he would need an early start if he was going to get anything done.

Which he would.

This chapter was cowritten with my roommate and friend Arisprite, who is far superior with Doumeki than I am, bless her, and was originally supposed to just be a one-shot on its own, but we decided to put it with this. I'm not sure how much Doumeki's POV will continue to show up as this fic progresses at its usual off-and-on pace, so lemme know how you guys feel about that. And also if you guys have any ideas on stuff you want to see or people you want, tell me! Inspire me! Or just read, whatever, it's cool.

Thanks for reading~!