Lyrics are from Second Chances, by October Fall.

Forever thanks to my reviewers. You make my world a brighter place!

Happy Beltine!

Break My Fall

Watanuki didn't recognize the street he was standing on; well, streets, he supposed. He was at the center of some intersection of back crossroads, in his school uniform with his bookbag tucked under his arm. But it wasn't any place he recognized; it was dusk now, not night like it had been when Doumeki had watched him unlock the door into his apartment building. And that was the last clear thing he remembered. So what was he doing here now? And just where was he, anyway?

I'm sick of second chances
Cigarettes turn to ashes

Watanuki pushed his glasses (hadn't he taken them off?) further up his nose, leaning forward to peer at the street sign so he could head home. When he saw the wooden post held nothing but the character shikai, he began to panic.

I'm standing under street signs to know
The places I've been my whole life

Doumeki had long been in the habit of meditating when his frequent bouts of insomnia struck. They'd begun shortly after his grandfather's death, and he did what young boys do when faced with an unaccountable situation: he emulated the one he admired most. Haruka had always stressed that it was good for mind, body, and spirit alike, and so Doumeki began to practice silent meditation. While it wasn't exactly sleep, it was rest.

I watch the hours pass us
Another one burns to ashes

Doumeki kept the room dark, and he knelt on a mat in the center of it, hands palms down on his knees, breathing even and slow. He pushed away the things that had a tendency to swirl in his mind, taking away his sleep: Watanuki's next death–defying decision to what would be in his bento tomorrow to Yuuko's snickering to Watanuki's still infrequent smile. Instead, he imagined a target, the thick black ring around a smaller white one, surrounding the center dot: the thing he needed most. And he was dry–firing his bow, again and again, feeling the strain in his triceps and the way the string cut into his fingertips. He pictured a glowing dart piercing the exact center time and again, each one sharper and clearer and thinner than the last, until the arrows were needles, so small and precise he couldn't tell it was hitting the bull's-eye at all.

Doumeki was also long acquainted with intuition. It was another thing he learned from his grandfather: intuition was not to be ignored. And so he never had, and it routinely led to Watanuki's continued survival and Doumeki's continued sanity. He often felt passing flashes of it when in this state of blank–mindedness, and, like he was taught, he listened to it unquestioningly.

So when Doumeki heard his name whispered softly by a voice that couldn't be in the temple, he opened his eyes to see his sight had split. One half was filled with the darkness of the room, and the other half was a unlit ceiling, light bulb curled into its box like a sleeping snake. But what alarmed him was not the shift of vision, but the small, white paper fluttering down toward his right eye; a slip of paper adorned with the familiar markings of a protective ward.

Doumeki was also long aware of duty, and to him, it was the weight of a bow in his left hand.

I'm waiting for your phone call

Watanuki woke with a shudder, his hands clutching at the blanket, his heart in his throat, and Doumeki's name on his lips. He didn't think to analyze his dream or the things that followed it upon waking, for as soon as he opened his eyes he heard a rustling noise above him. His east wall's ward was drifting toward his face, before it came to rest gently on his nose.

He hardly any time to be startled over that, either, because somewhere in the hallway outside his bedroom, something let out a deep, unearthly chuckle.

To come and save me

Watanuki rolled to his side, grabbing the vial of salt he always kept near him and scrambling toward the corner where the phone sat. He didn't stop to think about how weird it was that he knew the number by heart, or that it was the middle of the night, or that maybe Doumeki would be sleeping. He could feel the sweat beginning to bead at his hairline. Please, please, pick up, moron! But the phone line at the Doumeki temple rang once… twice… three times.

The chuckle came from right outside his bedroom door, and Watanuki glanced over at it, phone still ringing in his hand.

It hovered at the door, in the door, a black shadow with four snarling, grinning heads, each with a set of glistening red eyes and gnashing teeth. Its body was long and low, like a hound's, except its front paws weren't touching the hardwood floor. Its back haunches tapered off into a skinny set of clawed toes, and a sinuous, pointed tail flicked against the air behind it, spear–like tip poised overhead like a scorpion's tail.

It rumbled again, throaty, raw, and hungry, gleeful that the barriers had fallen. Watanuki's eyes fell on the second–story window, his recently acquired fear of heights no match for the desperate need for an escape path.

So you could break my fall

Doumeki sprinted across the courtyard of Watanuki's apartment complex, arms pumping at his sides, intent on the door that would undoubtedly be locked. It didn't matter. He'd learned what happened if he wasn't there in time, and a broken door did not compare to that.

But he skidded to a stop when he heard the scrape of wood against wood, and he looked up to see Watanuki shoving at the window pane with his skinny arms, opening it to its full height. His face was panicked, distracted, and an autumn leaf fluttered into Doumeki's vision as he realized Watanuki was contemplating the distance between the window and the nearest sturdy branch. Doumeki's ribcage clutched. No. Not again!

"Oi!" Doumeki called up to him once he was directly underneath the window. Watanuki stared down at him like Doumeki was a figment of his imagination, and glanced back into the room. Doumeki, very clearly, saw the four–headed creature prowling across the tiny room, intent on its prey, perilously close. He felt a trill of fear course through him. "Watanuki! Jump!"

The fool hesitated. Doumeki could see the fear etched across his narrow face, recalling his last fall. The creature had been closing in fast; it must be a mere breath away now.

Doumeki caught Watanuki's unsure eyes. "Trust me!"

And for better or worse, Watanuki's pale, bare foot appeared on the window sill, and then he was flying down toward Doumeki's outstretched arms.

I will stand outside
Wait for you to come find me

Watanuki felt Doumeki's arms wrap around a hip and his ribcage as he tossed them to one side, softening the blow as both boys crashed into the soft flowerbed, a tangled mess of limbs and dirt and heavy gasping. They lay still, catching their breath, before Watanuki pushed himself off Doumeki's chest, certain he had injured him somehow. But Doumeki's eyes were wide and angry, glaring past Watanuki's face toward the window. He shot up to his feet, wrenching on Watanuki's arm and pushing him toward the gate. "Still there." He lifted his bow, aiming up at the window, and glanced at Watanuki. "Run. To the temple." His tone bore no argument even as Watanuki reflexively opened his mouth in protest, and he furrowed his brow as he drew back the bowstring. "Now, Watanuki!"

But Watanuki couldn't help pausing by the gate, eyes riveted to the boy so intent on protecting him, hell or high water. Nothing between here and the temple could be as horrifying as the creature that Watanuki wouldn't raise his eyes to look at, but he wasn't about to leave Doumeki behind to figure out exactly how nasty that… creature was capable of being, exorcist or not. "Doumeki!"

He didn't glance back, concentration intense on the window. "I'm right behind you."

Watanuki didn't start running until he heard the twang of the bowstring, and only then because he could hear Doumeki's feet slapping the concrete alongside his own.

I will keep on my light
By my bed till you get home

"You're not going back!" Doumeki turned from the doorway, still in his soiled yukata. He'd made sure Watanuki was carefully enclosed in the center room of the temple, candles lit in the corners and a bowl of suibon water to reinforce the existing wards. So he'd picked up his bow again, determined to exterminate the creature that dared hunt Watanuki in his own apartment. And the saved boy was telling him he wasn't going back.

He looked at Watanuki, sputtering with his arms flapping about his sides. Doumeki pointed to the futon laid out on the floor. "Sleep. I'll be back."

Watanuki vibrated with anger. But Doumeki was used to it. Normally he'd disregard the irritation with nonchalance, but that stubborn streak in Watanuki made it a dangerous decision sometimes. It was how Doumeki had lost half an eye, even if he didn't regret it for an instant. But the eye was how he saved Watanuki's life tonight, after all. A small sacrifice to make. I just gained that smile. I am not going to lose it again.

Watanuki grabbed for the jacket Doumeki had hung by the door. "I don't need to stay here. I'll go to Yuuko's."

That was not an option. "No."

Watanuki stared at him in disbelief. Doumeki crossed his arms from where he blocked the door. "And why not?"

"That creature got through her wards."

"And I'll be safer here?" Watanuki's voice dripped with patient mockery. Doumeki nodded. Watanuki shook his head, incredulous. "What makes you think that?"

Doumeki jabbed a finger at one corner of the room, his threshold on explanations about crossed for the night. "My grandfather made those wards." And Doumeki took the apartment key from Watanuki's hand and left, assured that Watanuki wouldn't follow.

And I won't sleep tonight till you get home
And I won't sleep tonight till you get home

Watanuki stood, too stunned to move for a minute after Doumeki vanished. Who does that bastard think he is? Telling me to stay and sleep while he… Watanuki shuddered, remembering the sinister glow to the creature's eyes, recalling Yuuko's legends about the hounds of the netherworlds. Dark creatures who liked to siphon ki from their victims, leaving them empty husks, much like the angel–wing parasites they'd encountered. Watanuki remembered the scars webbing Doumeki's hands and arms – the twining ridges across his right wrist from the angel–san demon, the thick band on his palm, tight enough that he couldn't open his hand all the way, from the box–cutter. And of course, the angular, criss–crossing scars all the way up to his elbows from the glass.

My bed light's burning brighter
Worn out like a boxing fighter

Watanuki began to pace the border of the plain room, his agitation only building with every step. He never asked Doumeki for help; he never asked Doumeki to save him. He sure as hell never asked Doumeki to brave a hellhound alone. He chose to do this, chose to put himself in harm's way, and then the damned idiot had the gumption to tell him to sit and stay, like a pet, like he'd just be waiting patiently for him to get back. Did he have any idea of the grief Doumeki caused him? The worry and the anxiety and all the nights he'd spent staring at the ceiling, wondering how he'd ever live through the grief and the guilt if something went wrong just once and left him alive but alone, again? Did Doumeki have any idea the havoc he wreaked on him, by telling him to stay and sleep? No. Doumeki expected him to do what he was told, didn't think he had enough of a brain to figure out that there may be other outcomes other than what Doumeki told him there would be.

Watanuki broke his stride to punt a perfectly innocent pillow into the far wall.

You've got me fighting pillows

The thing was tricky, Doumeki had to give it that. It had led him out of the apartment complex, away from the town's straight shots of road, toward the park that was a twisting mass of paths and trees and play equipment. It meant to lose him, to leave him behind. It was running. And if it was running, that meant it was scared. And it should be.

Doumeki's heart burned, so close to out of control it frightened him. Nothing made Watanuki widen his eyes like that. Nothing forced him to contemplate a fall from another window. Nothing ever laughed in the face of Doumeki's bow. Nothing dared threaten his Kimihiro. Nothing.

Doumeki had lived in an isolated world, fueling his drive with his father's cold indifference, his mother's reluctant love, and always the memory of Haruka, steady and encouraging. He had never known anything like Watanuki before. Someone to share with – dangerous errands, bento, a smile and a laugh and sheer, honest anger, even. He'd been practicing archery and determination and force of will his entire life, all in preparation for the purpose Watanuki brought to it.

He'd waited nearly seventeen years to protect Watanuki and nothing, absolutely nothing took that away from Doumeki as long as he still had a heartbeat left.

Doumeki gripped his bow tighter, sprinting lightly on the pads of his feet.

My eyes just won't close

Watanuki grabbed the jacket again, determined that he could make the short walk to Yuuko's just fine by himself. If Doumeki had stayed, they could've waited until morning before getting Yuuko's help, and if it meant one less time Doumeki risked himself needlessly for his sake, Watanuki would gladly let her take it out of his paycheck.

It was the one thing Watanuki knew Doumeki would never understand: he hated the helplessness he felt in moments like these, and he'd gladly trade whatever it took to finally be on equal ground with the other boy. Because he never, never wanted his safety to be secured by Doumeki gambling his own.

Till you're at my side

He'd lost it. Or rather, it had lost him. How could he see the damned thing, anyway? When had he started picking up that skill?

Doumeki held his breath, shifting his grip on his bow and turning slowly to survey the park. He was scanning for the tell–tale shift of shadows and the eight glowing eyes when he heard a dark chortle above him. He lifted his eyes to the place he hadn't checked, and the hellhound gazed hungrily down on him from the branch above, its breath dank and musty like Haruka's long–stored books.

Doumeki barely had time to throw up his arms before it pounced.

The hours slip to morning
I see the sun coming up

Watanuki was reaching for the door when he noticed something that made him pause. There was a futon and assorted bedding rolled up next to the door; he glanced back at the futon spread out and the pillow still against the wall. Why would he need another futon? It was stacked so neatly, as if waiting for someone to come home and roll it out, just like that. And this wasn't even a guest room; Watanuki was only staying here because it was the most protected room in the temple. The only reason for there to be more than one futon would be if Doumeki… Oh.

Apparently Doumeki was being very literal when he said he'd be back.

I'm watching faster than
You gave up on me

"Yes... you are quite the delicious treat, aren't you?"

Doumeki lay perfectly still, trying not to wince as the creature dug a claw into his shoulder. "You will keep me strong for decades, much more so than that other one." It stroked the tip of its stinger down Doumeki's cheek slowly, as if savoring the scratch against his faint stubble, and he could feel the trickle of blood as it ran down his cheekbone over the curve of his ear.

Doumeki slid one hand slowly, carefully up his bow.

It laughed again, lifting the stinger high into the air, and Doumeki took in everything he could in that split second – the angle of the wind, the breaking streaks of dawn in the trees, the sight in his right eye of shaking hands carefully making up the second futon in his favorite room in the temple.

The stinger whipped down – Doumeki's bow flashed up.

But you're far away from me
When I need you here

Watanuki found himself, once again, staring at the ceiling and the light that played across the shoji screens. Trust me. He rolled to his side, only to see the empty futon he'd rolled out and made up. I'll be back. But Watanuki knew what time it was. Doumeki had been gone for too long. Where was he, the fool? Watanuki closed his eyes, trying to suppress the acrid taste at the back of his mouth. Fool, fool, fool!

There was a shuffling outside the door, and Watanuki tensed, a vision of the hellhound bursting in and dragging Doumeki's broken body behind it filling his mind.

Watanuki stared wild–eyed as the screen slid back. His breath came out so fast he nearly fainted when he saw that Doumeki stood in the doorway, his yukata even filthier than before, caked head to toe in blood and dirt and sweat, clutching his bow that had a broken string. He gave Watanuki, now sitting up staring at him in relief, an irritated glance. "I told you to get some rest."

Watanuki nailed him in the gut with a pillow.

I will stand outside
Wait for you to come find me

Doumeki let his bow clatter to the floor by his futon, tired enough to leave cleaning and replacing the string until the morning. He was tired, he was dirty, he was still bleeding, and he'd barely managed to take the hellhound by surprise to banish it.

But he was heartened to see Watanuki sitting up and watching him, his face a display of alarm and concern. Doumeki just waved a hand at him. "I'm going to sleep. If you wanna stare all night, be my guest."

Ah, now that was better. Watanuki began to sputter a protest before snatching his pillow from where it rested near Doumeki's feet and rolling over, giving his back to Doumeki. Doumeki just smiled, stripping off his yukata and crawling onto the futon. The light from the candles bounced from corner to corner, casting an eerie glow to the room.

Doumeki lay on his back, listening to Watanuki's soft breathing, and he'd just closed his eyes when the breathing became an inquiry. "Did you almost die tonight?" His voice was angry, like he was laying down a challenge.

But Doumeki certainly wasn't going to answer that question. "I told you I'd come back."

I will keep on my light
By my bed till you get home

Watanuki waited until Doumeki's breathing was even before rolling over slowly. Watanuki buried his face into his pillow, peeking out with his left eye to look at Doumeki's profile in the flickering light, solid and calm and grimy.

He crept a hand across the foot of floor space between them, unsurprised when he found what he needed halfway across. He buried his face deeper to hide the blush that was flushing up his cheeks, but he was smiling when he closed his eyes again.

And I won't sleep tonight till you get home

Doumeki opened one eye, catching the edge of a blush and a smile before Watanuki turned away. He let it fill him, wiping away all the ache and strain and exhaustion, that smile and the hand resting in his more than worth the effort he'd gone through. He laced his fingers tighter into Watanuki's, letting the warmth from their pressed palms travel up his arm, and he felt the insomnia that had plagued him for nearly a week begin to slip away.

He traced his thumb over the ridge of Watanuki's, and then he was asleep.

And I won't sleep tonight till you get home.

(Because it all goes away when you're together again.)