Lyrics are !drumroll! True, by Ryan Cabrera.

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Time to Try

When he reached the temple gates and Doumeki wasn't there waiting for him, Watanuki knew he was in trouble. Not only because of the list of what–ifs that ran through his mind – sick? Never. Went on without me? No. In the path of dire peril? More likely. – But mostly because it dawned on him with striking clarity that, if indeed one of those things had happened, his day was in danger of being completely ruined. Because Doumeki wouldn't be there. He'd get class and lunch and, if he was lucky, the walk home all alone with Himawari–chan, and that should make his day. Not ruin it. Doumeki, of all people, should not have that sort of influence over Watanuki's life. And while on one level it pissed him off, on a warmer, fuzzier level he hadn't expected anything less.

By the time Doumeki did show up – five minutes past their normal meeting time and looking unhurried, unsurprised and unperturbed by Watanuki's impatient foot–tapping – Watanuki was so peeved that he about smashed Doumeki's precious lunch over his smug head. "You made us late again, you jerk," He hissed, shoving the stack of bentos at him. "Now we have to run." Watanuki twirled and broke into a sprint, which Doumeki caught up to without a word or any apparent effort. The run gave Watanuki enough time to calm his nerves and take a few therapeutic deep breaths. Because, really, how could his whole day go to waste by Doumeki's absence from it? Foolish. Absolutely absurd.

Watanuki bent over to catch his breath when they reached the school, glancing at Doumeki from the corner of his eye. The two–minute bell was ringing, and Doumeki was standing there waiting for him. Wasn't the archer the one who'd said he wouldn't miss class over a fool? How had things changed so fast?

Doumeki waited until Watanuki straightened again. "I don't need to be walked to class, you know." Doumeki shrugged, and they parted at Watanuki's classroom door.

I won't talk, I won't breathe
I won't move till you finally see

Doumeki halted outside, about to walk away, but turned back again: through the glass, Watanuki was smiling at Himawari as he put his bag down, and he was bright and distant and safe, unaware he was being observed. Doumeki clenched his fist around the knot holding the bento boxes together as the bell rang again. Maybe it was better this way; safety in distance, for the both of them. The thought hurt, but it was true. There were too many complications for anything else to work. Just friends, Doumeki reminded himself. It's hard enough as is. He was definitely going to be late to class.

It was still irrationally hard to walk away from the door.

That you belong with me

Despite trying to concentrate on the lecture, Watanuki's thoughts kept turning back to the morning. It was the first time in a long while that Doumeki had been late. It disconcerted him to realize that his thoughts had not been on his own well–being; he'd been worried that something had gone wrong, that Doumeki had been hurt – not to mention the panic at a whole day without Doumeki. He didn't have anything to miss about the bastard. Right.

Except his compliments and the pleased way he attacked his lunch. Or how he waited until Watanuki was done to walk him back to class. Okay, maybe the walk home – but that was really because he might get mauled. And yet none of it explained why Watanuki was going to his archery meet that afternoon or why he'd packed an extra bento for the ingrate. He still owed Doumeki for the hellhound–thing – that was it. Even though Doumeki had said that he was just glad Watanuki was safe. His stomach began tying itself in not–entirely–unpleasant knots. Oh, god, safe. Watanuki didn't feel safe. What was safe anymore? Lunch with Doumeki?

He forced himself to focus, but pronouns weren't as interesting as the wave of memories that let loose those sharp–toothed butterflies again. Himawari was shooting him concerned glances, and Watanuki realized his mouth was twitching because he was trying not to grin. Oh, god, safe. I'm in so much trouble.

It was all he could do to sit through the rest of class.

You might think I don't look
But deep inside, the corner of my mind

Lunch, Doumeki repeated to himself, tapping the eraser of his pencil against the desktop. Could it really be two hours away? It shouldn't seem so long. Doumeki's attention kept wandering, despite how he tried to keep it in check.

Watanuki was becoming more and more fascinating by the day. He was apparently more interesting than the Feudal Era, too, because Doumeki hadn't heard a word of the lecture. Watanuki had looked very relieved when Doumeki had stepped out of the gate. Of course, he'd been irritated too, but that was a natural state of being for Watanuki. But he'd looked relieved, just like he had been when Doumeki came back from exorcising the hellhound. Like he'd missed him. Would he have missed him this morning?

His thoughts were taking dangerous turns. Just friends. Doumeki paused in his tapping to glance at the clock. One hour and fifty–five minutes. Lunch. It was becoming a mantra. Great; he was resorting to meditation to get through a school day. Lunch. Doumeki began tapping harder, and stared at the bento boxes, sitting neatly at his feet, that he hadn't handed back to Watanuki.

Lunch. Lunch. Lunch. It was easier than thinking of Watanuki.

I'm attached to you

The bell rang and the knot in Watanuki's stomach wound a little tighter. The butterflies attacked again. Trying to ignore it, he shoved his notebooks back into his desk and reached for the bento boxes.

Which weren't there. Oh, no. He distinctly remembered making them this morning and he could've sworn he had them when he was waiting for Doumeki. Where could they have gone? If he couldn't find them, Doumeki was going to be so disappointed…

"Watanuki–kun?" Himawari's voice was edged with concern. "Are you coming to lunch?" Watanuki raised his head to look at her, aware that his forehead hurt from where he'd dropped it against the wood of the desk. Himawari's mouth was tight at the corners, and a line appeared between her brows. "Are you feeling sick again?"

It was lunchtime, he didn't have the bento, and he couldn't manage to feel indignant about any of it. All he could think about was the downcast acceptance that would undoubtedly show oh–so–very subtly on Doumeki's face and how absolutely terrible it seemed. Yes, very sick.

Instead, he forced himself to smile. "Oh, no, sorry!" His hands felt empty, so he waved one in the air. "I'm just fine."

Her face cleared, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. I am in so much trouble. He trailed Himawari out of the room and tried not to think about it.

I'm weak, it's true

Doumeki sat at the bottom of the steps that had become their usual spot; it was raining outside, and he'd forgotten his umbrella. The meet was at another school's range on the other side of town, and he could hitch a ride with one of the other archers, but that would mean leaving Watanuki behind. He'd have to borrow one if it didn't let up, that was all.

The bento boxes sat next to him, still stacked and, like Doumeki, waiting patiently. Despite what Watanuki believed, he really did appreciate the food. It was one of the few indulgences he allowed himself, and coupled with getting to eat it with Watanuki – well, he just enjoyed good food a lot, that was all.

He leaned out to glance up and down the hallway, ignoring the cluster of freshmen girls that were giving him sly looks. Watanuki was going to show up any second. Hurry up. Because he wanted to eat his lunch already. Not because he'd been trying not to think about Watanuki for four hours or anything. Right. Just friends.

Dimly aware that his train of thought was acutely pathetic, Doumeki picked up a pair of chopsticks and began drumming them against the plastic top of the closest bento box.

'cause I'm afraid to know the answer

Of course Doumeki had the bento. He'd run all the way to school with them, and in his hurry to get to class, he'd forgotten to take them back. Watanuki breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down on the bottom step, but the knot only screwed itself tighter.

Himawari made to sit down, but a teacher motioned her over from a classroom door. Their conversation was brief as Himawari nodded, before turning back to the boys on the steps. "I'm sorry, Watanuki–kun, Doumeki–kun! I forgot that I promised Tanaka–sensei that I'd help with the arrangements for the next student council meeting. I promise I'll eat lunch tomorrow!"

Watanuki smiled up at her. Lunch alone with Doumeki? The knot compacted and did a 360–degree spin. "It's alright, Himawari–chan! No worries at all!"

She waved as she left. Doumeki reached for the top bento, but Watanuki fluttered a hand at him. "That's mine, moron. Yours is on bottom because it's heavier." Aware that the name–calling was completely unwarranted, he handed Doumeki his lunch.

Doumeki's hand lingered a split second too long on Watanuki's, catching his eye. Watanuki watched with grim fascination as the corner of Doumeki' mouth twitched into a smile, causing the butterflies to explode everywhere again. "Thank you for lunch," he said, and relinquished the box.

Watanuki busied himself with his chopsticks and prayed that Doumeki didn't notice his blush. Now, if only he could get his heart out of his throat.

Why did his hands always have to be so warm?

do you want me too?
'cause my heart keeps falling faster

Doumeki pulled back the bowstring, his form perfect; the crowd held its breath, anticipating another bull's–eye from Cross Private School's star archer. But said archer was desperately distracted. It had been hard enough to concentrate all the way to the final round. He just couldn't help it – Doumeki's eyes slid off to the side again.

From where he was sitting next to Himawari, Watanuki leaned forward, his palms pressing the low wall that separated the spectators from the range, watching Doumeki. His eyes were wide and waiting, anxious for his final shot, and Doumeki saw that pale gold eye and thought, That's mine. Then he caught Watanuki's gaze and his core hummed like a tuning fork. All mine. Right. He was trying to shoot an arrow, not give in to his ever–increasing fantasies about what Watanuki's mouth actually tasted like.

His concentration was wavering again. Focus. He couldn't stop looking at Watanuki. It had been a hard enough day, but now… Watanuki just had to smile.

You don't know what you do
Every time you walk into the room

The range was so quiet that Watanuki was sure he could hear a pin drop. Even Himawari next to him had stopped her quiet cheering to stare intently. But Doumeki was looking at him now, out of the corner of his eye like he did when he didn't want to be noticed. He'd become abnormally fond of how Doumeki looked with his bow after the hellhound incident; Watanuki, well acquainted with his butterflies by now, smiled in what he hoped would be an encouraging manner..

His thoughts were erased as Doumeki's eyes widened, his mouth relaxed, and his bow dropped half an inch.

He let go of the bowstring.

Oh, no, he blew it! Then, right on the heels of that: Because of me!

The arrow flew, the archery coach groaned, and something beneath Watanuki's ribs, very different from the butterflies, buzzed. Because of me? There was no guilt at the thought, only a perverse sort of pleasure. Oh, god, I am in so much trouble. Watanuki didn't realize certain doom could be downright enjoyable.

I'm afraid to move

It was a bull's–eye. Barely.

He'd won, although Doumeki knew he'd hear about it from his coach as soon as he got a hold of Doumeki. Best to avoid that for now. So he changed as quickly as he could to avoid any lectures about breaking concentration. Watanuki was waiting for him.

God, that smile.

Doumeki met them outside the range. Himawari was thrilled, clapping her hands together and congratulating him on his win, selectively oblivious to his screw–up. Watanuki, on the other hand, held back; his lips twitched but there was a coy slide to his glance as he looked at Doumeki. That's right, they said. I know why you almost missed that shot. And I don't mind at all.

The trio began to head home. Himawari tried to start conversation – "I'm so glad the rain cleared up!" – but when she was given little more than glorified grunts, her eyes darted from Doumeki to Watanuki and back again, a smile settling on her face before she unobtrusively excused herself by the supermarket.

Doumeki and Watanuki continued toward the shop in silence, and Doumeki watched out of the corner of his eye as Watanuki switched the wrapped and empty boxes back and forth between hands. How long had Watanuki known he was Doumeki's greatest weakness? Probably for a very long time, Doumeki mused, ever since the spirit–woman incident. There was no use pretending after that; not for Doumeki anyway. But now it finally seemed that Watanuki was beginning to enjoy that fact.

And about damned time, Doumeki thought, unsurprised by how dreadful and thrilling that was.

I'm weak, it's true
I'm scared to know the ending

Doumeki walked Watanuki toward Yuuko's, and with the cloudy sky and empty streets, he was reminded of the night he'd gotten the pictures from his parents. Simply walking with Doumeki had begun to take on an intimate twist, and Watanuki wondered why. Well, he supposed, getting saved from preternatural horrors, loneliness, and your own damned insecurities could create that sort of situation.

But he still didn't know why it seemed so strange that he wasn't holding Doumeki's hand. Miraculously, with all the things they were carrying between them, nothing was held in their inner hands except for Doumeki's bow, which repeatedly bumped against the outside of Watanuki's leg. He might have been walking a little too close. Yet the bow still hung between them; was Doumeki mad at him for the near–miss?

Do you see me, too?
Do you even know you met me?

Caught between a rock and a hard place, that was how Doumeki felt. If Watanuki was going to keep smiling like that – not that Doumeki minded – he'd never get anything done. And that meant either continually messing up archery or disallowing Watanuki from his meets. Telling the only person besides Himawari that was there to cheer him on not to anymore seemed like a bad idea. He'd have to come up with a good excuse for his coach, fast.

He was having a hard enough time not reaching out for Watanuki's hand. Would it be safe? There had been that unbidden smile and the almost–flirtatious look. When it came to flirting, Doumeki was denser than stone. He was used to giggling girls and subtle offers and eyes following him down the hallway. But with Watanuki? He had to be careful; the last thing he wanted to do was mess up the delicate balance between them or to scare off the skittish boy. And all bets were off with Watanuki. The day that Watanuki wasn't completely unpredictable was the day Yuuko stayed sober.

Just friends? Doumeki glanced at Watanuki, unable to gauge the situation. Watanuki was staring straight ahead, brow furrowed in concentration. The back of his hand nonchalantly bumped against Doumeki's, and Doumeki was willing to bet it was a hint.

I was a goner, anyway, Doumeki mused as he switched his bow to his other hand with his book–bag. Watanuki had been the one to reach out the last time, so he hoped that it was within acceptable boundaries. Doumeki took a quiet breath and held it as he captured Watanuki's hand as it swung by. But Watanuki didn't protest, just tentatively wove his fingers between Doumeki's and shyly glanced away.

Afternoon was giving way to evening, and Doumeki's mouth curved into a small smile. Alright. He willed each block to stretch a little further, so he could enjoy it longer. Alright.

I've waited all my life to cross this line
To the only thing that's true

Watanuki glanced down at their hands, fitted smoothly together. Well, maybe it's not trouble after all. He'd never have guessed it felt so good to be wanted. Loved? The combined idea of love and Doumeki was terrifying. But still, this was wonderful; walking down the street with him, even though he'd almost lost their lunches and almost caused Doumeki to blow the meet. Doumeki still wanted him, and Watanuki knew his whole day would have been terrible if Doumeki hadn't been a part of it.

So maybe the best part of his day was when he was with Doumeki. So maybe he only felt at ease when Doumeki was around. So maybe it would be okay to be honest. So maybe he could show Doumeki that he could be brave, too, because even through all the things he'd done for Watanuki Doumeki had never said anything aloud. So maybe now it was Watanuki's turn.

So I will not hide, it's time to try
Anything to be with you

Doumeki paused outside the shop gate. He untangled his hand to dig through his bag and pulled out the end of his final arrow, the shaft broken cleanly, to hand it to Watanuki. "Keep it," he told him, "You need all the luck you can get." He smiled, hoping it didn't sound harsh.

But Watanuki laughed and Doumeki thought he'd achieved nirvana. He'd screw up every archery meet for the rest of his school career if it meant listening to hear Watanuki laugh like that.

Watanuki fingered the fletching on the arrow, dropping his eyes as he nervously twirled it between fingertips. "Doumeki," He said, and Doumeki wondered why it sounded so awkward. "I only have to make Yuuko dinner tonight and I was wondering if you'd come over after I got home." He said it all in a rush, like if it didn't come out fast enough the words would get snatched out of the air between them. "I'll… make you dinner."

Doumeki could hear his pulse in his ears. A night of microwave noodles compared with Watanuki, homemade food, and hopefully more of that laughter? We can laugh. We're friends. Doumeki stared at Watanuki's mismatched eyes again. Maybe more than that? They'd just walked home hand–in–hand. Yes, Doumeki thought, and then said it aloud. "Yes."

All my life I've waited
This is true

Watanuki was smiling like an idiot. He seemed to be doing that more and more lately, not that he minded. He gave Doumeki a quick nod and a wave before darting in the gate. Watanuki could feel Doumeki's eyes, as intense as always, on his back until he was out of sight. It was all he could do to not sigh and slide down the inside of the door like a teenaged girl. Look what he's reduced you to, he scolded himself, but could summon no venom for the thought.

"Watanuki!" Yuuko sang from the other room. "Sake, quick, before I starve!"

"You're going to starve if that's all you want!" Watanuki bellowed back, but he was unable to keep the smile off his face. Yuuko appeared, revealing kimono and all, in the doorway.

"Oh?" She smirked. "Aren't we just pleased with ourselves?"

Watanuki tried not to blush as he pushed past her to grab his apron. "What do you want for dinner? You can have leftover yakisoba with your sake but you'll need something else…" He escaped into the kitchen to open the refrigerator door. He surveyed its contents and the meals that could come of them.

"What's the hurry, Wa–ta–nuki?" Yuuko teased, mischief in her eyes. "Got a hot date after work?"

Maru and Moro began chanting, "Hot date! Hot date!" from behind Yuuko as the door slid shut just in time to avoid the small sack of flour that collided with it. Watanuki turned back to the stove, his stomach in knots and a million thoughts flying through his head. Just concentrate on not chopping your fingers off. And he still kept one eye on the clock, counting down the minutes.

I know when I go
I'll be on my way to you
The way that's true

If Doumeki thought his capability for concentration was weak before, it was completely shot now. He figured he'd pace the temple for an hour or so before showing up at Watanuki's. With the incoherent jumble his mind had become, it was the only plan he had. He was getting two Watanuki–made meals; he'd gotten two smiles and a laugh out of Watanuki; so what if he may never be able to hit another bull's–eye ever again? He tried to tell himself to be cautious, but there was no room for it. He was too busy impatiently waiting until he could be with Watanuki again.

He walked home with an unmistakable bounce to his step.

All my life I've waited
This is true

(Because love will not be approached with anything other than sheer abandon.)