A/n: This starts up strange and ends strange. It just came to me suddenly. It's the last angsty, semi-humorous, semi-fluff introspective pieces I'll be doing for this story, which means onward to an actual plot…and stuff. Ahh my pointlessness burns! Anyway for this chapter, I don't think it's too far off to assume that Doumeki can see certain things in his dreams, not with the connection him and Watanuki share and other weird things that Clamp can throw into a story for the heck of it. I'm looking at you, Legal drug, which I love too. I'm a raging Clamp whore!

Also, to all those who have stuck with this story, thank you so much! I read your lovely reviews and it gives me a burst of energy.

I've dreamt about Watanuki before.

And I've seen things in those dreams that had me second-guessing whether they were really dreams and maybe some kind of disjointed memory.

I've seen things that I know I shouldn't be able to see, felt things that I know shouldn't be possible for me to feel, to know, to witness…

I've seen him sitting up at night, clutching his pillow to his chest and praying that whatever was outside, would stay outside tonight.

I've seen him when he was younger crying in a corner, clinging desperately to his spot, because the teacher had banished him from the safety of the classroom because he was making too much noise about things that didn't existed. And quite frankly, he was scaring the other children.

I've seen him before the haunting became too much and after, when he'd be bent over his toilet and his stomach wasn't strong enough yet to handle the scent and the presence of death and he was vomiting up his lunch.

I've seen the first day he walked into Yuuko's shop with a sigh of relief.

I've seen him walk out with a knot of dread at what always awaited him outside.

I've seen him break dishware because he was too tired to keep his eyes open and his mind alert, not when it had been too occupied with peeping out from under his covers the night before as he heard something scratch against his window.

I've seen him, once in a dream, whisper my name over and over again like a prayer, like the mantra summoning a protector god until his voice, hoarse with use gave up to the restless hands clawing at him. His dream ending and my nightmare beginning as I realized I could not come to him, not in a dream.

I've seen him smile during a hot, summer day, the breeze warm on his face, him sweating lightly, but still placid in his spot under the bloomless Sakura tree.

I've seen him--at that exact moment-- turn that smile on me, reluctantly but still warm and kind and mesmerizing. Seen him hold his hand out to me and call me over to sit next to him, patting the spot like it was meant only for me. Seen him brush hair away from his eyes coyly and bite his lower lip and nuzzle up to me when I joined him.

Although me calling that last scenario a memory wasn't completely true. Not when I knew I also had nightly fantasies about Watanuki too.

It wasn't my fault. I was a teenage boy. It was bound to happen…well not bound to happen, as I had liked girls before. Although liking hadn't really consisted of me seeking them out and conversing with them, no my kind of liking had consisted of me thinking she was pretty, or she was cute and doing absolutely nothing about that thought because that's all it was, a thought to me. No one really caught my interest enough to compel me towards action.

I had wondered if something was wrong with me, as I watched the entire male population of my grade sputter and clamber over themselves for a girlfriend. Watanuki didn't seem too different from the rest of the guys in our class when it came to that aspect of his personality. How he was always trying to woo over Kunogi and failing miserably, because she was a nice girl and didn't have a mindset to understand that Watanuki had a huge crush on her.

I had thoughts about sex before. Every guy did my age. What it would be like? What it would feel like? Why everyone always made such a big deal out of it? Then I'd lose interest with that train of thought after a couple of minutes, because I had more fun staring off blankly than actually pondering on things that didn't concern me.

Then I started to notice Watanuki. Little by little, I started to notice how he would wear his scarf some days during winter classes. It was weird. I was baffled by Watanuki's scarf, the black one with the frayed ends and a…strange tag that had what looked like cosplay wings on it.

I didn't have a scarf. I don't think I ever wore one in my life.

It was weird.

And then there were corresponding thoughts that came out of nowhere, on how much that one, black, thin, slender piece of cotton cloth had suited Watanuki. Especially on windy days when it was whipping around him and he couldn't control its motions as he ran past me or a whole body of students on his way to and from wherever it was he was going—because Watanuki at that time had always seemed to me like he was in a constant hurry.

That scarf belonged on him.

And then when winter was over and we exchanged our dark coats for our traditional uniform, I would just forget about the scarf, because I didn't stay too long on things, even if they did happen to catch my eye.

I always ended up forgetting about them.

It was inevitable.

It was just a piece of clothing.

Bought in an ordinary store.

I didn't bring it up again.

Then I found myself one day, wondering how Watanuki would look without his glasses. The thought had just struck me suddenly, like the scarf.

It was during class and he had sleepily rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand, the spot now tinged pink as he let his hand drop away from his face and he made a half content, half groggy sound.

He'd fixed his glasses back on his nose then and went back to listening to the teacher lecture on as I watched him from across the classroom.

I forgot about that strange fascination until I was suddenly reminded about it the day I carried him to the nurse's office when he had collapsed.

By that time I was more than noticing that maybe…I had a tiny crush on Watanuki.

He'd looked strange without it. Like those glasses was a fixed feature on his face, like a nose, or a mouth or his blue eyes. And in a weird way I had seen them as just that.

That Watanuki wasn't Watanuki without his glasses.

Although Watanuki without glasses wasn't bad to look at. It was strange how fragile looking he appeared with them off. Like he would break if I tried to touch him, although these thoughts were probably being influenced by the condition he had been at the time. I guess now I connoted a sick Watanuki to be without his glasses, because it was the second time that I had to carry him from the shop to my house, when he woke up in a cold sweat, again without his glasses, that it'd made an impression.

I can remember quite distinctly how a sick Watanuki looks.

It was the same day that I had killed in his name and even though that woman wasn't alive, I knew what I had done was murder, because the look on Watanuki's face had told me so.

I would never forget that look. I'd never seen him cry. I don't think I ever saw anything so heartbreaking.

I could never forget him at that moment.

It was impossible, because Watanuki had somehow with his tear-streaked face and hurt, anguished eyes had imprinted that moment in my memory with the force a death in the family could instill or a debilitating injury.

It hurt that much.

I'd realized that I was very much now stuck on Wantanuki and that my crush had turned into something entirely else.

I liked Watanuki more than it was normal for a boy to like another boy.

I wondered after that if maybe I was gay.

Maybe I was. I didn't know.

I found girls attractive, but I'd never tried to get a girlfriend. I kind of felt different from all the guys in my class. Maybe…

I'd found out in the boy's locker room that afternoon after practice that I still didn't have a name for what I had been stricken with because sure I liked Watanuki a lot, but any other guy was…just like any other guy. I don't know. From a certain viewpoint a lot of them were probably…attractive, but they were still…how should I put this…not too bright and…just unpleasant on the eyes.

I guess I was prettying up the fact that I found them stupid and butt-ugly.

Every guy was stupid and butt-ugly to me.

Watanuki was confusing the hell out of me.

And it was frustrating because I'd began to have all kinds of wet dreams about him during this time and it was raking my concentration and my nerves.

He'd also started being extra bitchy to me. Even more bitchy and I was sometimes on my last nerve with him.

It was amazingly annoying to have to get up early every morning and wash my sheets because of my suddenly overactive imagination. Plus the extra bitchyness and how much I just wanted to fuck him through the wall some days.

I'd started masturbating to relieve the stress of it, and then I'd end up picturing Watanuki and forgetting that I was trying to relieve stress and not work myself up anymore than I already was.

Needless to say I was very frustrated and very angry.

And it really hadn't helped the situation when he threw my protection back in my face, when he invoked the curse of the spider on his own terms.

And then…

He deserved all of it. And even if he hated me for all the things I've done, I can't help but selfishly cling to the idea that originally this was all his fault. Because the first time I'd met Watanuki, I don't know why, but I suddenly wanted to tease him.

To defend myself, Watanuki had been begging for it. Especially when he'd stared me straight in the eyes and asked what my name was, trying really hard to keep his polite smile on his face and being all kinds of fake nice and all out hiding the fact that something about me didn't sit too well with him.

I was usually pretty levelheaded to let things of that nature slide, and he was being really civil about it and trying to be nice, but something about it, about him, just rubbed me the wrong way. To the point where I wanted to…pick on him, for instance, maybe reaching out and stealing his glasses, or pushing him a little, or even out right tripping him. Okay, and I can understand how psychotic that made me sound, especially when this was our first time meeting and he was being really nice and patient.

I'd realized after a couple of minutes in his company that something about Watanuki had instantly triggered something within me. I wasn't the bullying type. I would rather leave people alone, because I always appreciated the same courtesies done unto me.

Watanuki though, I don't know why, I just couldn't stop myself from smirking at him in an overly smug way that I hadn't even known I could pull off and then quite out of the blue, calling him an…idiot.

It was barbaric.

I didn't even know him for more than five minutes and I had already picked a fight with him. And suddenly out of nowhere, he was picking a fight with me and I found that strange…and exciting because no one ever bothered me before. Or called me names for that matter. It was nice, because it felt like I was actually interacting with someone, instead of watching, or having passive, boring conversation.

Watanuki was like a breath of fresh air.

"I don't need this from someone with a face that's probably indistinguishable from a statue."

Watanuki was also one hell of a bitch.

"Go nosedive into a cement block!"

A bitch that had such sweet manners and ungodly shouting capabilities.

"Annoying, apathetic jackass!"

"If I had a coin for every time I wanted to slap you, I'd be able to buy Japan and then kick you out of it!"

"You only know how to shove food in and not chew! CHEW GODDAMN YOU! CHEW!"

"Be thankful that Himawari-chan has taken pity on your sad existence enough to speak to you, face-to-face, and not ten feet away, like the rest of humanity."

"Why can't you just listen to me when I'm speaking to you, YOU WALKING TREE!"

"Stop smirking! It makes babies cry."

"One day I'm going to take that bow and shove it so far up-"

It was sad that I could remember all these instances in time. It was even sadder that I remembered them with such fondness that it made me question my sanity.

Maybe I was a masochist.

Although, Watanuki wasn't all spice, even when he wanted to be.

He was surely coming around.

And there wasn't a soul alive that could say otherwise, even Watanuki himself, when he was baking for me on a regular basis and doling out all kinds of covert sweetness under the cover of tepid insults.

"Are you hungry? I could probably make something for you, but don't be a jackass and hand it out to people like it's yours to give."

"You don't have to come with me…if you don't want to. I'm fine!"

"You have Archery practice today? Hmm…well hurry up and go away and here I packed croquettes for you."

"I didn't know you were that good at Archery. That's kind of…cool. You aren't though!"

"That's no excuse for laziness. I guess I'll help you."

"Doumeki…"

"Thank you."

"Harder...!" Opps, how'd that one get in there? Well it was pretty impossible of him to try and separate Watanuki's being nice to him without incorporating some type of sexual activity. And it was the only time that Watanuki was ever super nice to him.

"Nggghh…Doumeki!" Really, he could try and stop this current train of thought but he was way too tired and horny to care anymore.

A/n: Let's remember that Doumeki is a boy in his teens. Right now in his life--even though he doesn't seem it--hormones play a huge role in his life. Every teenager is a hormonal mess…you know what, scrap that, every human being is a hormonal mess. Yeah us! Anyway, I'm trying to give him some human qualities dammit, even though he doesn't seem that way in the manga. These are issues I think he would ask himself and it was fun for me to track his crush on Watanuki throughout the timeline, and point out some of the factors that played into causing those feelings in the first place.