We were strangers starting out on a journey

Never dreaming what we’d have to go through

Now here we are, and I’m suddenly standing

At the beginning with you

from “At the Beginning”

by Richard Marx and Donna Lewis

And I’m feeling like we’ve missed out on everything
I just hope it’s worth the fight
’Cause this is a battle
And it’s your final last call

It was a trial—you made a mistake, we know

But why aren’t you sorry?

Why aren’t you sorry?

Why?
Things could be better—you can be happy…

Try…

from “Battle”

by Colbie Caillat

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It was almost anti-climactic that they found themselves in the same place they’d been in at the beginning of the journey: at Yuuko’s shop, otherwise surrounded by vast whiteness, with Watanuki being sheltered by Doumeki. And they were surrounded by whiteness.

Watanuki pulled away immediately.

“Oh great,” he exclaimed sarcastically, trying to disguise the pounding of his heart. Is it possible to reveal you’re in love by hugging someone? Probably, right? “At the beginning again,” he griped, swallowing hard over the dryness of his throat.

“New beginning.”

Doumeki’s voice was so matter-of-fact that Watanuki stared at him.

“What?”

The archer lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “We finished. That was the end. Now we’re at a new beginning.”

“You’re saying we have to start over?” demanded Watanuki.

Doumeki shook his head in the negative. “You collected the Cards. You passed the Judgment. The task is completed. We’re done with it. So we start again, not over. New beginning,” he repeated.

“You don’t make any sense.” Watanuki glared at him. “I think you’re trying to confuse me on purpose. Admit it, you jerk, you’re doing it on purpose.”

His companion turned his head and fixed him with a condescending look. “Idiot.”

“Who are you calling an idiot?” thundered Watanuki. His fist clenched around the cards still in his hand. “YOU SAID—”

“New. Beginning.” Doumeki’s expression suggested that Watanuki was indeed, as the archer had often suspected, an utter ass. “Starting over means repeating the same journey, with the same beginning, middle, and end.” He shook his head again. “Starting again means a completely different path, with a new beginning. Get it?”

And he did, Watanuki realized suddenly. He understood perfectly.

“I—that’s—hmph.” He jerked his body around to face the other way, not wanting to admit defeat. “I suppose you learned that from Haruka-san, too.”

“No. Video games.”

At this, Watanuki whipped around and roared, “VIDEO GAMES HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH REAL LIFE. YOU CANNOT COMPARE THE TWO. IT IS STUPID TO APPLY ANY CONCEPT YOU LEARN FROM PLAYING VIDEO GAMES TO REAL LIFE BECAUSE GAMES ARE NOT REAL AND—”

“Who are you to decide what’s real or not real?” retorted Doumeki.

All the color drained from Watanuki’s face. “I—that’s not—” He stared at Doumeki, who seemed to realize that he’d said something horribly wrong. “That’s not fair,” he whispered finally. His knees felt weak; his ears were roaring; and inside he felt a deep, slashing pain that Doumeki could say such a thing to him, could mean it. “I—I am real,” he whispered in a voice that shook with his own uncertainty of the truth. “You—you said so. Before.” Had Doumeki changed his mind? The thought of it—so soon after his realization that he was in love with the archer—slashed like a sword through his heart.

Doumeki looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said slowly, those tawny eyes on Watanuki’s bloodless cheeks. “I only meant that those kinds of decisions are beyond your power.”

“Oh.” The feeling was returning to his legs. Watanuki felt that heavy weight of hurt lifting as if carried by wings. “Oh,” he said again helplessly. “So you don’t think…” He swallowed nervously around a throat as dry as dust. “You don’t think I’m…”

Doumeki looked fierce now, and almost furious, as much with himself as with Watanuki. “You’re real, Watanuki,” he said in a low, iron-clad rumble. “I’ve told you before. You’re a person with thoughts and feelings, who goes through life each day because you have the will to live. You have memories of people in your life whom you’ve interacted with, and those memories and interactions have changed you. If that doesn’t make you real, then…” For a half-second, the archer looked bleak and anguished, and Watanuki felt something inside him ache sharply, but then Doumeki went on without a trace of emotion coloring his expression or voice, “Then I’ve spent three years chasing after an illusion, which makes me just as…not-real as you.”

Watanuki stared at him, the hurt ebbing away. Anger rose so swiftly in its place that he actually saw red. “Well, excuse me for being such a bother all these years! I never forced you to come along on Yuuko’s missions with me, and I certainly never asked you to keep exorcising spirits even though you kept getting injured and coming back like some sort of stupid person. And so sorry if all the bentos I made for you weren’t ever good enough, it’s not like you made it easy on me either—”

Hands—rough, strong, callused, scarred hands; wide of palm, long of finger—grabbed him by the upper arms so tightly that he choked on a gasp.

Doumeki’s eyes were blazing, twin golden flames that snapped and hissed like vipers. Watanuki was astonished; he’d only ever seen Doumeki this angry once: when he’d found out that Watanuki had given up his eyes to remove the spider’s grudge from Doumeki. At that time, Watanuki had felt shock and confusion as Doumeki pinned him against the wall and demanded in a furious voice that Watanuki call Yuuko. He felt almost entirely the same now, except instead of being up against the wall, he was pretty much pinned against Doumeki himself, whose steel grip had jerked Watanuki closer until the two of them were actually toe to toe, shoulders brushing against each other’s.

Watanuki felt a flutter in his stomach that had nothing to do with his shock and confusion.

Doumeki shook him once, like a doll. “Damn you,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Damn you, you dense little fool, that’s not what I meant.”

Watanuki breathed in once slowly, then exhaled. “What did you mean, then?” he said softly. This was dangerous ground he was treading; Doumeki’s temper was slow but lethal when aroused.

“I told you—I love you,” Doumeki said in a low, harsh voice. “That means forever. That means no matter what. That means everything.”

Another flutter brushed delicately against his insides, and he shivered.

Doumeki’s fingers were holding him in a vice grip. “I mean,” he said raggedly, “that if you’re not real, then I’m not real either. If you don’t exist, then neither do I. I’m—” His voice lowered so much that Watanuki, though pressed chest to chest with him, had to strain to hear that raw, choked whisper.

“I’m nothing without you.”

All the air inside Watanuki seemed to flood out in one huge rush. He was staring up at Doumeki from mere inches away, so close that their breath mingled, so close that he could feel Doumeki’s heart racing madly against the frantic pace of his own. There was, Watanuki thought with panic, absolutely no way to misunderstand.

Doumeki was in love with him.

Emotions crowded inside Watanuki—relief, shock, confusion, worry, embarrassment, joy—emotions he hadn’t let himself feel when Doumeki had first uttered those words, just before the Judgment. But nothing of anger, nothing of fear. Nothing of denial. It was a simple, stunning truth, undeniable, inexplicable, part of a never-ending series of simple, stunning, undeniable, explicable truths: The sun rose in the east, the moon changed phases, the earth spun round on its axis, and Doumeki Shizuka loved Watanuki Kimihiro.

Watanuki couldn’t think past his own reaction. Before he could even begin to decipher the vortex of voices in his head, Doumeki had let go of him and stepped back, that inscrutable non-expression on his face again.

Blushing, Watanuki also stepped away, then spun on his heel to hide his red face from Doumeki.

Oh gods oh gods what do I do now? I don’t know I can’t think what do I say to him? I love him I love him but can I tell him? We can’t leave yet I don’t know how we wake up or how long we’ll be here there’s nothing else to do and oh gods what do I do?

He squeezed his eyes shut and wished.

Yuuko’s voice rang in his ears. I can’t grant a wish like that, Watanuki. I can only help you find the key to granting it yourself. It is your choice to open the door, and also your choice to walk through it.

Yue’s voice followed after Yuuko’s: For within the other boy lay a truth that would forever bind the two of them together, a protection that only the other boy could give him. It would grant the Boy the strength to leave the enchanted sleep and merge his two existences. He had but to accept that truth.

Slowly, his eyes opened and stared dazedly into the nothingness surrounding him. Could it be that easy? he wondered in awe. Could it really be something so simple—and yet so very, very hard?

It was worth a try.

For him. Because he always tried for me, no matter what the circumstances, no matter what I said or did to make him do otherwise, he always tried for me.

It’s my turn to try.

“Hey, Doumeki.” He said the words casually, remembering their time wandering about the dreamscape hand in hand, him relentlessly pestering Doumeki with questions, Doumeki patiently answering or ignoring him as he saw fit. Watanuki’s voice was soft with wonder, with mingled joy and fear. He turned around slowly to find Doumeki looking at him without any clues giving away his thoughts.

“…What?” The word was gruff, terse. Watanuki nearly smiled.

“Dou—Shizuka,” he said on a whim. Then, almost shyly, “Can…can I call you Shizuka?”

At Doumeki’s suddenly startled look, Watanuki felt himself flush, and felt the dreamy confidence inside him vanish like smoke. Suddenly unsure of himself, he snapped defensively, “What, is that a problem? I should be able to call you Shizuka since I’ve been forced to put up with your attitude for way too lo—”

He stopped and looked blankly down at the cards in his hand, then took a deep breath and continued in a slightly less forceful voice, “I mean, since I’ve…”

Been with you, supplied his subconscious.

No, that was too girly. He was going to do this like a goddamn man or not at all. “Since you’ve…”

Been a part of my life, insisted his subconscious.

Also far too girly. He’d be lucky if Doumeki only laughed at him without rejecting him outright. “Since we’ve…”

Been together, suggested his subconscious.

NO. DAMN IT, STOP HELPING, Watanuki ordered his subconscious. “I…uh…since we’ve…known each other for a long time now,” he finished somewhat lamely, aware of Doumeki’s eyes fixed on him unwaveringly, but still finding himself unable to look at the archer. “And since you irritate the living crap out o—” He felt a twinge of guilt and amended himself again, “I mean, since we’re on…uh, fairly…”

Close. Intimate. Damned nosy subconscious.

I SAID SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU IDIOT, BEFORE YOU GET US INTO AN EVEN MORE EMBARRASSING SITUATION. It felt odd to yell at himself instead of Doumeki. “Friendly terms,” he finally decided was the safest way to phrase it.”

Now Doumeki was outright staring. “Right. Friendly.” There was something in his voice—dissatisfaction? Disappointment?—that made Watanuki’s breath catch for a moment before he went on in a rush.

“Right. Friendly.” He realized he had just repeated Doumeki’s words, and flushed again.

“Kimihiro.”

At the sound of his own name—his given name, said simply, softly, with no honorifics whatsoever yet somehow managing to sound reverent anyway—Watanuki’s eyes slipped closed, and he felt a jolt of pure pleasure travel down his spine. It had been so long—so long—since anyone had said his name like that. Not even Kohane-chan said it the way Doumeki—

Watanuki opened his eyes, wondering if the archer could see the dazed joy reflected in them. “Yes?” His voice was hushed too, almost husky.

For a moment, it seemed, Doumeki hesitated, his eyes widening at the tone of Watanuki’s voice. When he spoke, his own voice matched the quality of the shorter boy’s. “I don’t mind if you call me Shizuka.”

Watanuki, lost in the intensity of Doumeki’s eyes, could only nod.

They stood for some few seconds, just looking at each other.

“Shizuka,” murmured Watanuki at last, in that same quiet voice.

“What?”

But instead of answering, Watanuki found that he felt perfectly content to let his eyes roam over Doumeki’s face, tracing curves and angles, exploring shadows, sliding over planes and contours, as if he was memorizing them all. There was strength in that face—strength and determination. There was brutality in the sharp frown, softened by a sensual kind of mercy in the full shape of the lips. There was courage in the tilt of the chin, stubbornness in the set of the jaw. There was humor in those eyes, Watanuki thought dreamily, just as often as there was irritation.

And for the first time, Watanuki realized with a startled blink: Doumeki had very cute ears. If he were to bite one, just a nip, nothing harmful, would Doumeki blush and shiver? Would he look at Watanuki with heat and promise? Would he—

“Ki…Kimihiro?”

Watanuki jumped, his reverie broken by Doumeki’s whisper. The archer was looking at him with veiled caution; that look said that he’d noticed Watanuki’s intent perusal of his face; the tone of his voice had roughened, deepened, and lowered about half an octave.

“Y-yes?” In contrast, thought Watanuki with a resigned mental sigh, his own voice had risen about half an octave, and was now breathless and trembling.

“What do we do now?”

Watanuki blinked at the question. “Do?”

“To get out of here.”

Oh. That. Watanuki felt a momentary surge of panic at the thought of confessing his love, and was on the verge of denying any and all knowledge of the subject whatsoever. Then he looked at Doumeki.

The archer was watching him with what would have been his usual deadpan expression; but Watanuki knew his own heart now, and that helped him to understand Doumeki’s, and he could see that behind the mask of indifference, Doumeki’s eyes were filled with a desperate sort of hope—hope that what he’d read in Watanuki’s expression hadn’t simply been a trick of the imagination; hope that Watanuki’s agreement to a first-name basis was the prelude to something more; hope that Watanuki could finally escape this dream world, and wake up to be real once more.

He read all those hopes in Doumeki’s eyes, and felt suddenly very calm and very peaceful. He heard his Cards’ voices murmuring encouragement in his mind, heard Yuuko’s faintly amused laughter trailing through the jumble, and, if he was very still, heard the beating of his own heart.

You must listen to your heart, Watanuki. There is a key. Your heart will tell you.

I can only help you find the key. It is your choice to open the door, and also your choice to walk through it.

“Shizuka.”

He saw the hope flare in Doumeki’s eyes again. “Yes?”

Because I am not alone.

Because I am in love.

Watanuki strode towards the archer until they were standing merely a foot apart—I will meet him honorably, as a man speaking to a man—straightened his spine—I will stand tall—lifted his chin firmly—so he will know that this is the most important thing to me—met Doumeki’s gaze unwaveringly—so he can see the truth in my eyes—and smiled.

“I need to tell you something.”

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A/N: Yes, my dear, dear loves—that’s the end. Dreamwalker is officially finished. (sweeps a bow) And for my LJ friends--Thank you for your support and reviews and endless propositions—I enjoyed every moment of it all, and I’d do it again!

In fact, I AM doing it again—with “Those Who Favor Fire.” XDDD Jump on over to my profile on LJ (sillyangelfaery) and catch my latest adventure with these two star-crossed swains!