Lyrics this round: If I Am, by Nine Days.

I butchered them horribly for my own purposes. All apologies to Nine Days.

A note mainly for icedragonchilde or others who like to see my writing: I don't always post all my xxxHolic stuff here. If you'd like to read more, it's at my livejournal account linked in my profile!

As always, my sincerest and most profound thanks for your words of delight and encouragement, especially you, anonymous reviewers!

Walking on the Edge

Watanuki was in a funk.

It wasn't his normal let's–wave–our–arms–and–protest–too–much disposition, either. He'd been moving in starts and sputters all day when he did manage to do anything at all, hardly focusing enough to even eat lunch. Sure, it meant Doumeki actually got enough food for once, since Watanuki didn't notice when he stole half his bento.

But Doumeki sensed a tantrum of epic proportions in his near future, so he quietly finished his sushi, gave Watanuki a piercing glance, and headed back to class, trying to plot out the most efficient method to stop it dead in the water.

So you're standing on the ledge
It looks like you might fall

Watanuki was… discontent. It was the only way he could think of to describe it. Yuuko's promises of an "enlightening" day had fueled a bizarre mix of pleasant and uncomfortable dreams the night before, a melting pot of ghosts and bells and a faceless, pursuing Doumeki. While none of it was clear, it had been haunting him all day. He successfully dodged Himawari's concern and Doumeki's increasingly penetrating looks, and both had mercifully gone on without him.

Maybe, Watanuki mused while stacking the empty bento boxes, he was just tired of never knowing where his life would take him next. He'd been dead set on university and Himawari and trying his damnest to pretend he didn't see such unusual things. Less than a year later, now where was he?

Stuck with an overbearing boss he'd never be free of, a crush on a girl who just might be the death of him, an ingrate for his closest friend, and waking up every morning wondering what creature would try to eat him that day.

Watanuki sighed and headed to his last classes, a headache beginning to seep between his eyes.

But you're so far down, well
Maybe you were thinking about jumping

Doumeki cut from archery club early, much to his coach's dismay. But he didn't care; the next tournament was weeks off, and he was still in top form. Lots of practice outside of school and the weight of Watanuki's life had seen to that. Right now, Doumeki had something much more important to accomplish.

His patience was running out.

Watanuki had been acting like a frightened rabbit around him for two weeks, hardly making eye contact, never raising his voice. Even his protests and admonishments were half–hearted. Doumeki figured it was time to work out exactly where they stood.

But the trick of it, he knew, was to pull it off so subtly that Watanuki didn't even realize it was happening. Because that was the only way Watanuki seemed to learn anything at all.

Now you could have it all
If you learned a little patience

Watanuki sighed for the millionth time that day. He leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of the wooden park bench.

He'd never forgotten that day, or the things that led up to it. Sharing coffee with her, Yuuko's phone call, the unyielding pavement under his knees, the taste of his own blood in the back of his throat. The angrily determined expression on Doumeki's face, the first time he'd ever seen something besides amusement and annoyance. Her parting words, most of all – they rang in his mind every time he felt like throwing his hands up. Yes, he had people who didn't want to lose him, whatever kind of complications it held – Yuuko, Himawari, Haruka, the Zashiki–Warashi, Doumeki. All had sacrificed for him.

The last one on that list filled Watanuki was a sort of gleeful dread. He'd broken down that night, two weeks ago. He was quite aware that Doumeki had all but said he'd be there no matter what – Of course, the moron – as if Watanuki even had a choice in the matter. It was still hard to swallow past the lump in his throat when he thought about it too much, and that coupled with the flush that rose when he thought about how he'd practically held hands with Doumeki, well, it was almost too much to handle. Of course, none of it stopped the one nagging, simple, itty–bitty question that circled in his head: Why?

But though I cannot fly
I'm not content to crawl

Doumeki had an inkling of what was bothering Watanuki. It was because of that night, when he'd received the package from his parents.

Something had changed. Okay, to be fair, things had changed that night in the park with the meteor shower, but that was the first time Watanuki seemed to admit it. Now Watanuki was running scared, and while Doumeki couldn't blame him one bit, it didn't make the matter any less frustrating.

Doumeki paused mid–stride. He couldn't decide who he was angrier at – Watanuki for trying to pretend nothing had happened, or himself for wanting to push the issue. Why couldn't he be satisfied with the way things were? Why did he need it to be said out loud? It had never bothered him before.

But, then again, Watanuki had reached out for comfort before, either.

Doumeki stared at the bend in the path, around which he'd undoubtedly find what was causing all this… uncertainty. His life had been predictable and safe before Watanuki – it had also been very boring and lonely. But it had been under control, he had never questioned himself, he'd never felt like he wouldn't be able to survive without that disgruntled face at the temple gate every morning. Doumeki had never wanted to be dependant on another person in his entire life, and now… What did he want now?

He wanted to grab Watanuki by the shoulders and shake him, he wanted the fool to smile, he wanted to hear Watanuki say that he didn't mind spending so much time with Doumeki. He wanted a lot of things that he was fairly certain would scare the piss out of Watanuki if he rounded that bend and said them aloud. Things Doumeki had never contemplated before in his life.

None if it changed the fact Watanuki chose to avoid him, as if that very act didn't indicate something was different. It didn't change that Watanuki was likely going to make a rash decision that Doumeki just couldn't live with. Watanuki needed to wake up to a few truths about the two of them. But Doumeki knew it wasn't as easy as it sounded.

Instead, Doumeki grabbed a handle on his anger and resumed his stride.

So you're walking on the edge
And you wait your turn to fall

What scared Watanuki the most was that Doumeki hadn't changed a bit since the day he'd dragged him over the railing of the roof on that school. Doumeki had patiently saved him, time after time, preserving his life and sanity at the sake of his own, and then, the other night, he'd given Watanuki something else he hadn't known he'd needed. A comforting friend. At this rate, he'd have to keep Doumeki around every moment of every day just to breathe. And since he had to keep him around in public just to appear sane, that idea didn't seem too far–fetched at all, much to Watanuki's discomfort.

Watanuki leaned into his hands. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. He just wanted things to go back to normal. No. What he wanted was to get up in the morning without wondering who was going to be maimed in his name by the end of the day.

And Doumeki. He hated how he was coming to depend more and more on him. While the realization Doumeki wasn't going anywhere had been a relief that night, in the light of day, it just wasn't plausible. Watanuki could never expect so much from another person, willing or not, especially since he was already so much of a burden.

But you're so far gone that you don't see
The hands upheld to catch you

Watanuki was sitting right where Doumeki had suspected he would be. It figured that, if he was contemplating what Doumeki thought he was, he'd return here: this park bench where he'd almost died, without a clue of what he was leaving behind. Doumeki didn't deny that one of the things he cherished about Watanuki was his infinitely kind heart. He just wished the fool wouldn't blithely shove his own well–being aside for people he didn't even know were real. That day was the first time he'd known for certain just how much Watanuki meant to him. The realization had been sneaking up on him, but… He'd known Watanuki wouldn't forgive him. He'd known that Watanuki would be angry. And he did it anyway. Because Doumeki wasn't going to let him slip away that easily; not when he'd just begun to discover what it was like to share life with someone else.

But even now, Watanuki wouldn't admit he needed him. The goddamned fool would never admit it, and as Doumeki approached the bench where Watanuki was sitting with his face in his hands, Doumeki realized that he was more than a little bit angry.

All the better to force Watanuki to reckon with, he supposed.

But Watanuki looked up at him with such a resigned expression that Doumeki was taken aback. So he sat next to him without a word, keeping the lid on his anger until the right moment. Watanuki just watched him uneasily, like he could hear the ticking of a bomb, and Doumeki began to pick through words. There were many things he could say – but none of them seemed like anything more than hollow promises or biting remarks.

And while Doumeki pondered, Watanuki waited.

You could find the fault
In the heart that you've been handed

So the bastard wasn't going to say anything, like always. Just sit there in smug silence and wait for Watanuki to spill his guts just to ease the awkwardness. Well, Watanuki wasn't going to gratify Doumeki's expectations for once. Let the dumbass stew.

The quiet lasted less than five minutes.

"Aren't you supposed to be at archery practice or something? Instead of bugging me with your presence?" Watanuki clenched the edge of the bench again. He didn't need this. Not when he was trying to work things out for himself. He gave Doumeki a sidelong glance, ready to tell him off, but froze.

That same, unmistakably grim look was there. "What are you doing here, Watanuki?" Doumeki didn't look at him, just stared straight ahead.

Watanuki pushed aside the sudden shame. He wasn't going to let Doumeki win. "Is that any of your business?"

That burning–cold stare finally landed on him. "Yes," Doumeki clipped out, "It is."

But though you cannot fly
You're not content to crawl

Doumeki was trying his hardest not to find something to break in half. He could compile a list of all the ways he'd tried to show Watanuki why it was his business: ten hours in the rain, three pints of blood, dozens of missed practice hours, several ruined yukata. But none of it added up for him, did it? It was never enough for Watanuki to realize that, no matter what he did, he'd have to change. Because hell if Doumeki would be the one to give up.

If Watanuki hadn't chose that moment to start talking, Doumeki suspected he might have done something completely out of character for him. Although, looking at Watanuki's obviously distraught face, he couldn't say what it would've been.

Watanuki wrung his hands between his knees, gaze dropping to the pavement. "I'm not going to be a burden anymore."

But then again, the moron had to go and make a statement like that, with that defiant tone of voice – Doumeki's anger began to boil again. Will you snap out of it? I know you're stronger than this.

"And what," Doumeki ground out, "Makes you think you're a burden?"

so give me a little credit
have in me a little faith

Watanuki stared. How could he not be? Was he even living in the same universe as Doumeki? "All I ever do I take! I can't even control my life to the point that I have to sap from everyone I know just to stay alive." He slammed a hand against the wooden seat, flinching either with the way it stung or the thought that followed on the heels of the previous one. "It just doesn't seem worth it."

And next thing he knew, he was hoisted onto his feet, almost dangling by the throat of his school uniform. Doumeki's eyes burned into him, and Watanuki scrambled at the stronger boy's fist, trying to release himself. "Tell that," Doumeki pushed out from between his teeth, and Watanuki stilled, "to Yuuko. Tell that to the little one at the oden shop. Tell that," Punctuated by a slight shake, "to Kohane and Mugetsu and Himawari. Tell that to the woman that threw herself in front of my arrow." Doumeki's grip trembled a little, and he let go. Watanuki stumbled back onto the bench as Doumeki clenched his fists at his sides. His face was raw, exactly how Watanuki had been feeling for two weeks. Doumeki turned away, but not before Watanuki could see the lost way he lowered his eyes. "But don't ever tell that to me."

I wanna be with you forever
If tomorrow's not too late

Yes, things had changed. This was apparent to Doumeki by the fact it was getting harder and harder to keep a grip. Did Watanuki think he wanted it this way? Because Doumeki hadn't minded his self–contained little world, before he'd learned of endurance and heroism that never quite paid off.

No. He was wrong. He'd never take it back. He'd do it all over again. There was no use lying to himself about that.

So why couldn't he get Watanuki to see that? Why couldn't he convince him that it wasn't all a waste? That he'd be the failure, in the end, for not showing Watanuki how he felt? Was caring for him, putting Watanuki before himself – was it not enough? How could he show him that yes, things between them had changed irreversibly?

If I am another waste of everything you've dreamed of
I will let you down

Doumeki sat back down next to an astonished Watanuki, who peered at him cautiously. Doumeki didn't look the least bit apologetic. But with the way he was staring straight ahead, his face unearthly calm – and that uncontrolled look in his eyes, moments before. Watanuki knew him well enough to realize that he was trying to work something out in his mind, and whatever it was, Watanuki was sure he wasn't going to like it one bit. Best to circumvent it, if he could.

"I'm just tired of it all. Tired of taxing everyone else and never being able to change anything." He dropped his face so Doumeki couldn't see it. "I want you to be able to do whatever you want. I want you… to be free of these bonds. I don't want to have to need you all the time."

If I am only here to watch you as you suffer
I will let you down

Ah, Doumeki managed to think philosophically, this is what heartbreak feels like. There was a gaping hole, approximately where his heart should be, gouged out with Watanuki's last words. He wants… to be free.

No, no, no, That same rational voice chided. That's not what he said. He wants you to be free, moron.

His anger was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a desperate need to get Watanuki to take back that statement. Doumeki did some fast thinking, and what came out of his mouth surprised him. "I haven't."

Watanuki looked up at him, confused. "Haven't what?"

Doumeki let out a deprecating chuckle at his own foolishness. "Ever wished on a falling star." Doumeki let out his breath. So much for subtlety. "But I know what I would ask."

The answers we find
Are never what we had in mind
So we make it up as we go along

Doumeki turned to look at Watanuki in painfully slow motion. Yuuko's words seemed to echo in his head: his decisions carry far more weight. With Doumeki, it was never idle, it was never fleeting. If Doumeki had a wish, everyone else had better pay attention, because that meant things were going to happen. Watanuki had the eerie feeling that Yuuko was going to pop out of a bush any second.

Doumeki's eyes searched the grooves in the sidewalk. Watanuki had an odd sense of nostalgia. Doumeki should be standing in front of him, bow in hand, instead of sifting through words sitting next to him. Doumeki should be angry and unwavering, not hesitant and burnt–out. All the same, Watanuki was hanging on his next words.

Doumeki looked up at him, straightening against the back of the bench – his eyes were searching but sure. "I'd wish to see you smile."

Watanuki's brain function died for a full three seconds. Surely, it couldn't be that easy. But it was there – Yuuko's teasing, Himawari smiling as Tanpopo chirped on her shoulder. Mugetsu pouting and sulking because he hadn't been named. The Zashiki–Warashi, blushing as she came to check on him.

Doumeki, watching him as he watched the falling sky. Doumeki, dirty or bleeding or skipping practice or stroking the sides of Watanuki's hands with his thumbs.

God, he'd been stupid. Watanuki couldn't help it.

He smiled.

You don't talk of dreams
I won't mention tomorrow
We won't make those promises that we can't keep

Doumeki was floored. Astounded. Flabbergasted. There wasn't a word in all the land of the soul of language that could describe the way that smile made Doumeki feel.

He knew, though, that the instant Watanuki opened his eyes to see Doumeki gaping like an idiot he'd lose it all over again to awkward tension. Besides, he wasn't quite through yet – he still had one more point to make.

Doumeki leaned forward, trying to keep his head clear, which was turning out to be quite a bit more difficult than he'd expected. "Oi." Watanuki's eyes flared open, forehead tightening in annoyance. "You do the needing," Doumeki told him, pointing a finger, "and I'll," the finger pressed into his own chest, "do the wanting."

Doumeki almost smiled, because now Watanuki was the one gaping like an idiot.

I will never leave you
I will not let you down

"And tomorrow," Doumeki's mouth settled into his trademark smirk, "I want inari sushi."

Watanuki's mouth shut with a click as a mental scoreboard popped into his head: Spirit bait: 0. Bow–slinging exorcist: 1.

"I don't take requests, jerk!" Watanuki exclaimed, and proceeded to chew Doumeki out the entire walk to the shop. But, for once, he went to bed at night not dreading the morning.

Besides, he'd just have to catch Doumeki off–guard with a smile again, and the scoreboard would be even.

Watanuki liked that idea.

I will never leave you
I will not let you down

(Because love can make us rethink our whole lives.)