keepingshop | ＩＮＥＶＩＴＡＢＬＥ

[Classes were over, and as the last of his students exited the classroom, Doumeki finished wiping off the chalk from his fingers with a handkerchief. The board was clear, lecture notes and pen were already back in his file on the desk, and a cursory look around revealed that none of the students left anything behind this time.

There was one thing left for this post-class ritual, and Doumeki returned his stack of notes in the leather bag he'd tucked in his seat.

Kimihiro should be back soon, and they could begin their commute home.]

[ It was still odd -- still something he was getting used to, this not being, and while he'd agreed to the cost of things willingly, there was always a difference between knowing what the words of a contract were and experiencing their meaning firsthand. Maybe he'd reach an age, he thought, making his way to Shizuka's classroom, where he'd laugh about being seen through or forgotten entirely; then again, maybe he wouldn't.

Maybe he shouldn't.

One day he would get the hang of wish granting. Or this was his hope at least; he hated being so tired all the time.

Peering into the classroom -- the door ajar anyway, he stared just for a second. Shizuka didn't look all that different from high school, in his personal opinion. Or was it that he couldn't imagine him another way?

Hard to say. ]

Finished for the day?

Mm.

[He glanced at Kimihiro, tension uncurling in his chest. Uninjured, and still very present.

No matter how many years passed, the fear that his partner would disappear like smoke under the moon never went away.

The clasp of the bag shut with a click. Crossing the gap between desk and door took only a few, steady strides, his free hand automatically reaching out to clasp Kimihiro's as he shut off the lights.]

You?

[They'd still have to pass by his office to pick up his jacket and their bento. At the department, he'd exchange customary goodbyes, his colleagues having already accepted he usually kept to himself after work, and didn't drink out often.

That suited Doumeki just fine.]

[ Useless pointless petty things still snuck into his thinking sometimes, which made him feel ordinary in a way he knew he wasn't quite anymore -- how unfair it was that Shizuka could close the distance so smoothly (what had he said to Mokona once, "unnecessarily" about his size), how the collar of his shirt could use pressing again --

-- how he took his hand as easily as saying 'You'. And, well, alright, that one was neither useless, pointless, nor petty.

It was nice.

An anchoring point in a world made of water.

Perhaps his thoughts took him away for a little longer than he meant. He seemed to hear Shizuka speak as if from a distance, and then catch up to the sound of his voice. Rather than answer him -- a bad habit that would die with him probably, if ever -- he turned his head away slightly to hide the small yawn -- the wishes today had been Something -- as he mumbled, squeezing his hand slightly, ]

Doesn't it look weird?

[ What did people even think Shizuka was doing when his hand was outstretched and curled where fingers should be? It makes him feel weirdly guilty even after all this time; and sometimes when Shizuka's colleagues invited him out, he would want to encourage him to go. Was that not normal? But Shizuka almost never went. ]

No.

[The answer was the same, whether Kimihiro was referring to their hand holding or his supposed reclusiveness, and he gently squeezed his partner's hand for good measure. As far as Doumeki was concerned, the latter was but an extension of turning down invitations in favor of archery practice, or being involved with Kimihiro's errands for the Shop.

He would go when he wanted to, and not a day before.

As for the former -

Privately, he thought that being able to hold Kimihiro's hand in public without anyone batting an eyelash had its benefits. No doubt he'd be called shameless if Kimihiro caught wind of it, but Doumeki was beyond caring, using it to his advantage even for ordinary things like shielding Kimihiro from other people on the train.]

[ Pressing his lips thin on a comment on that answer, he sighs. The whys and whats of Shizuka staying by his side are things he willfully ignored before they were together, and then later accepted because the most selfish part of Watanuki Kimihiro doesn't bear his own name; it bears Shizuka's. As they go through the corridor, it's not lost on him how liked Shizuka is, and he notices too how disappointed his colleagues are when he turns down their invitations. These days it's a combination of Kimihiro actually knowing Shizuka doesn't much want to go out, and Kimihiro wanting him to be with him when he walks to the station and when he crams his invisible self into the train and people unwittingly almost press him into nothing.

Dangerous to want as much as he does no matter how many years go by, and yet it's ties such as the one they share that allowed him to exist in the first place -- to not disappear.

He doesn't suppose he'll ever stop owing him; doesn't suppose Shizuka would see it that way if he said it out loud regardless.

One of the customers today made a wish for someone who had already passed away and the price was so high it hurt him to grant it both in misjudging of the cost and also, simply, the nature of the boy's sadness: people are forgetting him; I don't want them to; I want them to remember him forever -- the way I do. If it had been a matter of changing their hearts, he would have just said no, but it wasn't that. Not exactly.

Thinking about this and the warmth of Shizuka's hand, he says in the voice no one else can hear no matter how close they might be, ]

What do you want for dinner?

[Disappointment, he could deal with. He didn't talk much anyway even when he had to attend the obligatory department celebrations: inviting Kimihiro along meant he was similarly occupied.

The time for tallying debts was long past, and Doumeki was content to leave it at that. Accounting for his relationship Kimihiro like a transaction ledger was distasteful. Indeed, he sometimes worried if Kimihiro's role as the shopkeeper would begin to erode the other's sense of how relationships worked.

Then Kimihiro would be downcast after granting particularly painful wishes, and Doumeki would regret ever wondering.

Kindness had its price, beyond the Shop's barter.]

Tentamadon. And miso.

[This he murmured on Kimihiro's temple, barely moving even with the rocking of the train. Someone's bag dug into his side, and he ignored it. Once they got to their stop, it'd be over, and they'd be able to stretch their legs properly between the station and the apartment.]

[ "Isn't it more trouble?" He'd asked when they were still new -- well, old but new, and he'd reverted or realized he never truly grew out of his tendency to try to give people ways to not be with him or near him; the deepseated unconscious roots of someone who became a person who had every right to exist even if he ought not have. Shizuka just took his hand.

Thinking on that, it makes Kimihiro smile just a little, probably not even visible with how they're crammed in so close. Sometimes he imagines what it would be like if Shizuka couldn't see him either and it stops his breath like something taken outside of time itself. Selfishly he's thought before, nights after wishes that should leave him deep asleep but trap him wide awake, I would miss him. and It would hurt.

He hums acknowledgement of Shizuka's answer and nearly falls out of the train as they get to their stop and the doors open. It's not clumsiness; his sense of reality is a little vague outside of the Shop because that's what happens when no one knows you're there -- well, almost no one. If Shizuka wasn't there, perhaps Kimihiro would start to forget too; perhaps that's one reason that he's allowed to see him.

Who knows. ]

[Automatically, he wound an arm around Kimihiro's waist to keep him steady, and steered him away from the influx of people.]

Hn.

[They might have adjusted to dealing with others trying to fill what they saw as empty space, but that didn't mean Doumeki approved of the pushing.

He held Kimihiro close like that for the rest of the walk home because he was a shameless man who preferred having his partner in his arms, though he'd reserve kissing the top of Kimihiro's head for the moment they stepped inside their house.

In many ways, serving as one of Kimihiro's anchors in this world was something that crept up on him with every errand. Every wish. Every sacrifice exchanged, running deep beyond words and silence. Doumeki would do it all over again for reasons that went beyond duty and diligence, and he could only hope it was enough for them to carry on like this.

(It wasn't ideal. Kimihiro was a social creature, he knew, and there ought to be a way for him to interact with others who didn't come seeking wishes... though part of him dreaded the cost.)]

[ The curl of Shizuka's arm around is waist is like a reminder: yes you exist, yes you are here. The kiss he receives to the crown of his head is more humanizing still: you are wanted. Not just as a price paid to avert disasters elsewhere (everywhere), not just as a promise created to be kept even if the meaning isn't entirely what he thought, not just as a placeholder for a woman who lived outside of time and made sure in all of it to give Watanuki Kimihiro a tangible place in this world. Human like this: the curl of Kimihiro's tapered fingers in Shizuka's collar as he lightly pulls and presses on it to neaten it -- unnecessary, since it's the end of the day, but he wants to, so he does. Human like this: the way he peers up at him thoughtfully and re-memorizes all the things he knows about Doumeki Shizuka.

It's a disservice, Kimihiro is old enough -- worked through enough -- to recognize: to call him 'enough'. Shizuka is more than enough. But that's neither here nor there when one has made oneself a living ghost. ]

Messy.

[ He tsks and lets his hands flatten and smooth out from the shirt collar to Shizuka's shoulders. If people could have seen them they would make quite a pair -- Kimihiro in his traditional clothes beside Shizuka in his work attire every day on the walk from or to the station.]

[Doumeki snorted. There was only the two of them, and he couldn't see below his chin. Still, he dutifully let himself be fussed over, because that was the sort of detail Kimihiro focused on.

He might not see the point, but that didn't mean he disliked the attention.]

I'll change out of it later.

[A simple reminder. The same went for Kimihiro's attire, which he'd relish divesting him of later, if they were in the mood, and he dipped his head, giving a kiss in thanks once the fabric was straightened out.]

Dinner?

[It went without saying he'd follow Kimihiro to the kitchen, though he'd settle down at their dining table to grade a few papers while Kimihiro cooked.]

Later, [ Kimihiro parrots with the wryness that's become a staple of his demeanor, somewhat replaced the more volatile ways of how he used to be. Though some things remain close to those old ways: how when Shizuka kisses him Kimihiro will now and always blush visibly in his cheeks and annoyingly the tips of his ears, how Kimihiro's hands so intent on making him fastidious curl on his shoulders anyway in the end. It's almost worrying how Shizuka has been able to stay a part of his life, that there is no perceivable cost that Kimihiro can see. So if he holds onto him as if saying 'stay', he can't help it.

Then Shizuka opens his mouth and the undercurrent of worry is mellowed, at least for now. ]

What kind of a question -- [ He doesn't even finish that sentence, leaving Shizuka to his papers and busying himself with their meal. It's a thing Kimihiro holds dear to himself in a way he's not certain he's allowed -- the preparing and making of food to share with someone he cares for, important enough that even when he was too new to the role of Shopkeep and had a habit of passing out wherever after event he smallest of wishes, he'd still insist on doing it. "It's important." That's what he'd said, he thinks, gathering the bowls. He nudges Shizuka's arm or shoulder or whatever with his knee as if to say move so he can put the things down. Then he goes back to hesitate over sake or tea before returning with the former.

Eying the papers, he tilts his head.]

What was this assignment?

[ Given the field of study, of course Kimihiro is interested, but given the teacher, of course he would be regardless. ]

[Cute.

Making Kimihiro blush like that always counted as a personal achievement. He smirked, his good mood lingering when it came time to clear his work off the table. Just as Kimihiro took great care in preparing their meals, Doumeki made sure he'd properly appreciate each dish by not being distracted by objects unrelated to dining.]

Mamemaki.

[The essays were still at arm's reach if Kimihiro wanted to read.]

We're covering Setsubun and other festivals.

Edited 2020-05-16 19:28 (UTC)

[ His eyes do flit in consideration towards the papers, but he refrains for the duration of the meal, content like this as he asks his questions to Shizuka, whose day and life are the ones he's truly interested in if he's honest; though the thoughts of strangers on such things can be...useful. He'll read them later, likely, pore over them with unexpected zeal because that's how it often is with Kimihiro and his glimpses into Shizuka's students. He tends to remember them too -- "Oh, Fujiwara did better this time I see" and "Shirou is rather sharp, you said he's on recommendation?" -- which fills in his world in a way he's grateful for. ]

And are they teaching you anything new, professor?

[ Unlikely, but it's a more fun question than 'How many of them will have to rewrite and resubmit?'

He tilts his head on his hand, having finished his food -- always giving a larger portion to Shizuka because he likes to feed him and because he himself has an appetite that has shrunken considerably -- , sitting in that relaxed almost lazy way that's so reminiscent of Yuuko even if he himself doesn't realize it. ]

[His students would've liked Kimihiro, that much he was sure of. Outside of dealing with customers who fielded in terrible karmic consequences, his partner was warm and supportive in ways Doumeki himself had difficulties expressing.

Information might come at a cost, but the same wasn't true for feelings.

Was there any wonder why he held Kimihiro's food with such high regard, even if he rarely spoke about it? Doumeki had come to think of even the smallest grain of rice as a miracle: more proof that Kimihiro still remained with him. Chose to be here, when there was a time that the allure to stay at the Shop had been strong.

It was something he was grateful for, and he absently bumped knees with Kimihiro, even while his hands were occupied with his bowl and chopsticks.]

Not about the topic.

Hashimoto's participating in the Chichibu Festival. Arai and Fujita are going with him to take pictures and videos.

[ In another version of their lives, Kimihiro becomes less Kimihiro and more Watanuki; he stays in the shop for more than a lifetime and misses Shizuka and Himawari and Kohane and Yuuko -- always always always -- every single day inside of it. He does not lose himself but he loses. But it is, like this world, also his choice. One might argue that Watanuki Kimihiro has a bad track record for it -- those big decisions, those prices he accepts to pay.

But here, at least, he can have the privilege of certain things: nagging Shizuka at the market for which vegetables to pick, judging his desk space if he gets there before he's cleaned it up to go home, meeting him for lunch if Kimihiro's own job isn't in the way, and much as they might do later, falling asleep tangled up like the red string Yuuko alluded to what feels forever ago.

When he feels Shizuka's knees, the smile pressed into Kimihiro's own palm grows softer. Yes. Still here. ]

Ah. Well then.

[ The second thing has him lifting his head, sitting up a bit straighter. ]

You aren't going?

[ Not that he supposes Shizuka needs to or has specific job-oriented necessity to do so; but he asks anyway. For Kimihiro, that night will be busy, also the day before and after, perhaps whole weeks bordering; the spirit world is for better or for worse tied by its own thread of fate to the human one. More of them will be around than usual. The kekkai around the shop is considerable, and it's far rarer these days for there to be a spirit Kimihiro cannot simply keep out. But it depends doesn't it; on what he needs to do, if he has to protect someone; to what extent.

Absently he entertains the fantasy of going, then silently shelves it. Not wise, really.

He nudges his bowl of rice -- half finished -- over towards Shizuka. ]

The professor's making arrangements. Some of his students are interested.

[His senior colleague. The same one he served as assistant to, and one of the few Doumeki had actually spoken to about Kimihiro whenever old artifacts were involved.

Accompanying the man wasn't a problem.]

...it will be loud and crowded.

[That combination was his specific reason for not committing to any plans yet, and he took the bowl of rice after checking just how much Kimihiro had actually eaten (was it enough?), fingers lingering on his partner's knuckles. Doumeki had attended all sorts of festivals and celebrations over the years - with his grandfather at first, then with Kimihiro. He understood their significance, the importance of thanksgiving, of the meeting between the mountain god and the town's goddess. If he was specifically invited, it was only proper to attend and participate.

Festivities were loud affairs by nature.

He would be very tired afterwards, and it was a busy time of the year for Kimihiro.

Doumeki didn't look forward to sleeping alone after such a trying day, although this wasn't something he'd bring up. Not when Kimihiro also thrived when he interacted with spirits, and Doumeki could tuck away the fear that his partner might not return once the festival was over.]

[ Days and nights surrounding festivals of import are moments when Kimihiro is busiest both with work and with what has become his only form of socializing outside of Shizuka. Over the years he likes to think he's perfected the art of slipping into bed beside him without waking him, but that's only assuming Shizuka sleeps at all. Because even exhausted, Kimihiro has found him awake and waiting for him at unkind hours, and most times he's berated him for it, but they both can't help certain things about themselves regarding each other. He also can't blame him since, even as he's gotten better at his role of shopkeep, there have been nights where he's returned worse for the wear -- a wish too high in cost even now, the temperamental nature of some spirits whose faces won't be shown, or even simply the human nature of Kimihiro to simply not know his own limits ("Enough," Shizuka once said with his arms tight around Kimihiro's shivering frame.) ]

And tiring, [ He acknowledges at least, but not without adding, ] and beautiful.

[ Shizuka takes such care with the food Kimihiro makes for him that he catches himself being exceedingly fond of him, and well, he should be; one might suppose so of people who are together. But it goes beyond that too, indeed has been there since before Shizuka took him up with both hands in the kitchen and kissed him, wound his way and his meaning into him with a sense about all of it that felt like finally. Shizuka understands the things that matter, in plainest terms.

Kimihiro also understands what matters.

The kiss to Shizuka's temple is gentle but quite present, and while he doesn't linger, there's a sense that he considers it before he takes up the bowls and chopsticks and brings them with him to the kitchen to begin washing. Perhaps he will encourage him to go with the professor; perhaps he won't. Not as though Shizuka ever does anything he doesn't want to anyway.

They have that in common.]

Hn.

[Beautiful, indeed.

Kimihiro would wear something elaborate for the occasion, long-limbed and elegant, graceful wrists peeking out of billowing sleeves. A vision to be appreciated, a reminder of his growing mystique.

He didn't mind waiting for Kimihiro to come home at the brink of dawn if only to assure the both of them that the reality they were in wasn't just a vision, and the lecture that followed was a welcome sign of care.

Doumeki would wait, whether it was late into the evening, or the short time it took moving between their dining table to the kitchen. Kimihiro might not have lingered, but the sensation of his lips on skin temple did, and Doumeki closed his eyes for a moment to savor the feeling.

Then, he stood up.

Helping with the dishes was only fair. Rinsing and drying was routine, and they've mapped out each other's steps with years of familiarity. The only bumping there was to be had was from Doumeki leaning close once the final bowl was dried and back on the rack, arms winding around Kimihiro's waist, gratitude and contentment rolled into one.]

[ If anyone could know Kimihiro, they would see the perhaps the way the two of them act and it wouldn't be any kind of rocket science to make the assumptions they would whether from their silent communication or their almost reliable bickering that more and more these days consists of mutual worry -- as if passing back and forth the same plate: you eat no you eat! You be careful -- no, you be careful. Okay, okay, okay. And so it goes with them whether regarding spirits or the subtly exhausting nature of even the most ordinary of days. That Kimihiro can bend down and card his pale fingers through Shizuka's hair and wait for him to fall asleep is a gift; that Kimihiro can touch him at all is a gift. Because he remembers making the deal that he did and, not knowing he'd be given such grace, trying to make his heart quiet.

Looking back on it now, he knows he failed, because when it became quickly apparent Shizuka could see him -- the crawl of outrage in his expression when no one else could see much less knew Watanuki Kimihiro was ever there at all -- he almost...

...well it's been a while. Kimihiro does not quite remember what stupid or foolish action he'd been on the precipice of that time; he just knows there was one, and knowing himself, it was probably something embarrassing.

Today's clients did not take him outside of himself too badly. The ones who do leave him floating on some bridge between himself and his memory of Yuuko. Those nights, Shizuka brings him the rest of the way home, and more than once Kimihiro has wondered if he wasn't there then what would come of him?

The wordless cleaning up after the meal is pleasant because it's theirs, and when Shizuka encircles him, that's pleasant too. Kimihiro covers his hands with his own and leans back against him with all the trust of years and years, lets his head tip back against his shoulder, and says what he often says now when the remainder of the night belongs to them, ]

Welcome home.

[ He'll never tire of saying it, and if he's afraid that the wish that binds him to the shop will one day take that choice away from him, he never speaks to it. Some things don't need to be made more real by saying them out loud; some things should not be.

The way he bends his arm back to push his fingers through Shizuka's hair is unintentionally elegant, but that's how most of his movements are these days from the way he reaches for him to the way the full sleeve falls with the angle of it, arm pale against the dark plum of this particular robe. Some of his clothing is more reminiscent of Yuuko than others; this one might be perceived as softly in-between. ]

[Then was then, now was now. They've both learned from the past, or so Doumeki liked to think, even if they needed to remind each other of those lessons on occasion.

Perhaps today was not one of those days. Over drinks, he'd have to ask. Recounting the hours before bed was yet another ritual: there were some things not meant to be talked about on the walk home, and Doumeki was always curious to hear what - or whom - Kimihiro encountered while he was busy in the classroom.

Ah, but those words. They, too, were ones Doumeki never tired of hearing, a pleasant lilt of syllables and warmth whenever Kimihiro said them, burrowing deep.

The weight of those slender arms on his and the warmth pressed on his chest - privately, Doumeki was glad for their difference in height, when it meant he could envelope Kimihiro and lean down to meet that welcome with a kiss, enjoying the sensation of fingers carding through his scalp.

Here they could linger, by the sink in the middle of the kitchen, revelling in each other's company, a haven of simplicity they've managed to keep to themselves in spite of the complicated journey it took to get here. Home was where Kimihiro was, and Doumeki adored him for it.]

[ Kissing Shizuka is always thrilling in a way Kimihiro would be too embarrassed to admit to, but it's true and there is something romantic about Shizuka being his first kiss at the start of a contained lifetime of them. Not that he would say those precise words to him either. But they've been together long enough that it would perhaps be unnecessary anyway. The soft ahn between one kiss and the next is want, and the way Kimihiro slides the hand in Shizuka's hair down the side of his neck to curl is encouragement, and how he chases after another kiss when this one ends is an option.

Because they can keep going or they can stop; they can do almost anything and Kimihiro finds he's genuinely okay with.... it as long as they're together. And he's careful not to think of it as a wish, careful to always think of Doumeki Shizuka as the person he wants. There cannot be a price for how he feels for him anyway, but Kimihiro knows the sensitivity of the shop as well as such seemingly harmless imaginations (they never are), and so he knows better.

Sometimes Kimihiro is hit with an intense and fearful wave of what-ifs and almost always he spirals into trance-like states where he dreams -- not always useful. Equally almost always, it's Shizuka who reminds him those things haven't happened -- not yet and hopefully not forever.

Then again, what's 'forever'?

Kimihiro sighs as this kiss -- second? third? fourth? -- breaks but he keeps his head tilted back, and smiles up at Shizuka the way only someone in love can. ]

Bed? Bath?

[ If his own bias comes first, well he doesn't feel bad about that. Not one bit. ]

[One kiss, to another, and another, both of them puzzle slotting into place. Kimihiro tasted of their dinner and the sweet sighs spilling from his mouth, and Doumeki smiled, relishing the feel of soft lips and needy touch.

The contradiction of Kimihiro's shyness and bold encouragement, too, were a delicacy, as was the warmth of the palm covering his neck.]

Avoiding extra laundry?

[There was a hint of heat in that tease doubling as a question when he planted another kiss on Kimihiro's jaw, hand wandering to the delicate curve of his partner's back. He could certainly go along with that bias before they freshened up for sleep, his own private worship of the being that was Watanuki Kimihiro.]

[ They're older now but Kimihiro retains a level of density sometimes that would impress, well, anyone. Though even if he had caught the double meaning, the result might be vaguely the same as he narrows his eyes, ]

Laundry belonging to who? You--

[ Kimihiro is a certain percentage soft bluster in no time at all, but just as fast his words trail off, breath twisted out of him warm and bright. He ends up with both of his hands cradled at the back of Shizuka's head, a certain weakness for the path Shizuka is fond of laying across his jaw perhaps with reverent attention to his throat. Truth be known, he's still embarrassed of it and doesn't know why because it's not exactly new anymore, but one wouldn't know it the way he blushes and reacts to every single touch. A reasonable guess would have to do with his lack of contact with, well, almost anyone; how hyper sensitized he is to the weight of Shizuka's hand at the line of his spine or even the low hum of his voice that seems still to prefer 'hns' and 'ahs' to words. But maybe that's fine in these cases; every word is just another point of potential for Kimihiro to want to cover his own face but also half ask half demand that Shizuka never stop -- stop what? Touching? Yes. Seeing him? Yes. Being together? Yes.

All of it, yes. A thousand times, yes.

It's easy, self conscious or not, to let Shizuka lean into him until he feels himself backed against the counter, and Kimihiro slides one hand to the front of his shirt no longer neat at all, and pulls at the collar this time, more playful and enticing than he means to be but often is these days as he looks at Shizuka with the kind of openness no one else has seen in a long, long time. ] Didn't you say that you were going...to take this off?

[He smirked at that protest, lips trailing from jaw to the hollow beneath it: a favorite spot of his to leave marks at, on the rarest of occasions he was allowed to leave such obvious signs above the collar. His second favorite spot was two inches below Kimihiro's ear. This was where he lavished his attention on, shifting his grip to avoid the countertop, but otherwise pressing his fingers on Kimihiro's spine, an echo of how he's seen his partner settle on a chord on his shamisen.

Being reminded of his earlier words, too, made him huff in amusement. That was one leap from irritation to playfulness. When he was flustered, Kimihiro wasn't at all a smooth talker. Doumeki liked this side of him, too, this raw sincerity that he equally protected and wanted to covet.]

Hn.

[An agreement. Yet, he held off from actually unbuttoning his shirt.

Both his tone and the look he gave Kimihiro pointed to one question: what are you going to do about it?]

[that AU thread]

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