A/N: I'm celebrating my recent university graduation and burst of free time with a new DouWata fic! It seems like it's been a while since I've done this, so I'm hope I'm up to usual standards... such as they are! Time for another angst filled story, because I'm at my creative best when there's angst involved, I've noticed. Hope you enjoy!

Rating: T, for heavy blood and brooding.

Spoilers/Timeline: Brief spoilers for the spider's grudge, major spoilers for Volume 10 (Himawari's backstory). Consider this to be a successor to Meanings of Sacrifice, because it totally is.

Disclaimer: Doumeki and Watanuki are CLAMPers, Hidden Scars belong to me. Not that I have any, of course.

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Hidden Scars.

Doumeki couldn't say how long he had been sitting outside Yuuko's shop. He had brought Watanuki to her just as she'd asked, paid the price of his blood to keep Watanuki from suffering even more when he woke, and listened to him rise from his slumber from outside, staying hidden from view so the injured boy wouldn't have to see the scarlet staining his clothes and resent him even more for his unwanted interference. He waited as Himawari, her back covered in veiled scars, at last told Watanuki the truth and received his renewed acceptance. He waited as Yuuko spoke to Watanuki alone, her voice too low to follow but still soothing, almost lulling him to sleep.

He rested his head in his hands. He was dizzy from the loss of blood and could have used the rest, but he couldn't allow himself to shut his eyes now. The threat was still everywhere, even in the safety of Yuuko's house, even with his own powers here to keep Watanuki safe. What happened todaywas enough to prove there was something trying to convince Watanuki to erase himself. Maybe a spirit, maybe Watanuki's nature itself, but it was there. It had not died when Watanuki failed to; it existed because Watanuki allowed its existence and accepted it as a part of himself, a part more essential than his own blood and bones, the expendable parts he was willing to throw away.

But to Doumeki they were not expendable. Not when he had to look upon Watanuki's body lying on the ground, a mess of blood and brokenness. Not when he had thought to himself, He's done it this time. He's gone. Not when he had collapsed on the ground beside the shattered body, desperately seeking a pulse and begging every benevolent force that looked after Watanuki not to abandon him now, not while there was still time for him to learn how to value himself, how to fight his own erasure.

A red towel whipped through the air, landing on Doumeki's head. Yuuko stood behind him, her face clothed in shadows and her eyes gazing skywards towards a distant star or perhaps even another world.

"You shouldn't stay like that. You wish to see him, don't you?"

"He's sleeping," Doumeki said, pulling the towel into his lap and balling it there.

"He is now. But he will wake. And you will want to see him." Yuuko turned back to look into the solemn silence of her shop. "Maru and Moro are drawing a bath. I will deal with your clothes. Unless you wish him to see, after all...?"

Doumeki pulled himself up to his feet, exposing the full length of his blood stained back. Yuuko's expression did not shift; she had likely seen worse a thousand times over. Doumeki's own indifference to it made it that much easier to take in. After seeing Watanuki's blood, his own was inconsequential in comparison. He would survive the loss and be back on his feet with a bit of rest and eating. With Watanuki, it was much less certain.

Yuuko guided Doumeki into the main room, which was still covered in rolls of bandages that had been used among Watanuki, Doumeki, and Himawari. "This is your first time inside the shop, isn't it?" she asked, though she knew as well as he did that it was. "The bath is down the hall, third door on the left. Leave your clothes outside the door."

Doumeki stepped down the hall and entered the steamy room, setting the red towel down and flipping on the overhead lights. Maru and Moro were still leaning against the bath, sharing the shower nozzle between them. Mokona sat atop Maru's head, his typically smiling mouth pulled into a frown as he bounded down to land in Doumeki's arms.

"Can we help you with anything?" Moro asked, spraying a stream of water against Maru's thin arms.

"Help you?" Maru echoed. There were flecks of blood on her skin from where she'd helped Doumeki carry Watanuki to Yuuko. Doumeki closed his eyes and sighed.

"You've helped already. Go back to Yuuko."

"Okay. But if you need us, let us know."

"Let us know, let us know!" They pulled their hands out of the water and dried off before scampering back outside to their mistress.

Doumeki pulled his clothes off and took over handling the shower nozzle as Mokona gathered them up and left them for Yuuko. The heat of the water felt wonderful and purifying on his stained flesh, and it was a relief to see his blood flow down the drain mingled with the water. The sight of the blood didn't bother him, but he assumed it would bother Watanuki. Watanuki pretended not to care nine times out of ten, but Doumeki could still remember the time Watanuki saw the web that had once sealed his eye, and how such a simple burden filled him with guilt and the desire to undo it as soon as he could.

"Will he be okay?" Mokona's small voice sniffled at Doumeki's feet. It was a wonder, really. A small little black meat bun that Yuuko and a man named Clow had created with magic, and yet it had such a spectrum of emotions and capacity for love. Doumeki ruffled his head and told him it would be okay. Even though he didn't know himself if it would be.

"I don't want him to hurt," Mokona said. "Not a single part of him. I don't want him to disappear."

"I don't either," Doumeki murmured. "That's why I will continue to wish for him."

"Mokona will wish, too! And Yuuko! And Maru and Moro!"

Will it be enough? With Kunogi, too, will it be enough?

It was enough for some people to be saved by love. Just the thought of having someone there to care for them and desire for their existence gave them reason to live. But some people could not be saved without first saving themselves. They needed to look within, and decide their lives were too precious to give up, not only because it would hurt others, but because it would damage themselves. Watanuki had to be the latter. He knew Yuuko relied on him, that Himawari deeply needed his assurance, that Doumeki loved him with all his heart and wanted to be with him in life and soothe his loneliness in death. He knew, but still he ate away at himself, banishing his traces and wiping himself clean, vanishing right before their eyes. Love was not enough for someone who did not love himself.

After cleaning himself and drying his flushed skin, Doumeki put on the robe hanging off the hook- probably one of Watanuki's. He was dizzy on his feet. The heat, along with all the blood he had lost, could not have been doing him any favors, but he staggered to the door and slid it open. It was well past the time he should have been home, and he still didn't feel comfortable in Yuuko's shop. But he wanted to see him. Even if it was only for a moment, he wanted to see.

Watanuki was laid up in the bedroom, his entire body bandaged and his bent glasses resting on the bedside table. There was a pitcher of water and a glass beside it, half-empty and smudged with fingerprints. Watanuki's breathing was steady and even thanks to the sacrifices of Doumeki and Himawari, but his forehead was knotted and his tightly wrapped hands balled into his sheets. An egg rested by his head on the pillow, small and smooth like the one resting in Doumeki's pocket.

Doumeki knelt down beside Watanuki's bed and gently eased the fingers of one of his hands away from the sheets. Once it was freed, he linked their fingers together, even though he knew Watanuki would be mad when he woke up. It didn't matter if he was or not. It mattered that there was still a pulse beneath his skin, a spirit inside of him burning brightly enough to inspire anger, and time enough for Doumeki to convince Watanuki to accept his touch, to want it to stay and never abandon him.

"I love you," he whispered to the sleeping figure. Watanuki stirred and grumbled in his sleep, but the tension in his forehead and hands eased.

Doumeki rested his head on the bed beside Watanuki. He knew he should leave. He had intruded much too long, and Yuuko had never even invited him to stay. And perhaps it would be better for Watanuki not to wake and see his face. There would be questions. Their relationship was still a tenuous thing; Doumeki's love was established, but Watanuki's was not. He preferred to avoid things that frightened him, whether they be spirits or mishaps or kisses or words that he was not ready to hear. But he knew Doumeki well enough to understand that what he had given to Yuuko was something significant, and as soon as he figured out what it was, he would look for a way to get it back.

"You smell," a soft voice whispered. "Like soap."

"I just took a bath."

"Why?"

"Yuuko told me to."

"Because...?"

Doumeki lifted his head. Watanuki's eyes were fluttering open, but he looked as if he was still half-asleep. He was probably under the influence of some drug or another, just lucid enough to speak, but not enough to remember.

"How do you feel?" Doumeki asked.

"Like floating. I..." He pauses, studying the room in a sleepy haze. "Has Himawari-chan gone?"

"Yes."

"And you're here. I thought you wouldn't come."

"For you, I would."

"But I'm fine, see?" He lifted his arm, as if this alone was evidence. "I would never let Himawari-chan be responsible for..."

"But you would let yourself be responsible. Which is hardly better." Doumeki lifted Watanuki's hand and pressed it against his heart. "Once this stops, you don't come back. It's not something to make light of."

"Did I hurt you?"

"Yes, but not as badly as you hurt yourself."

"But you and Himawari-chan are safe."

"No we're not. When you hurt yourself, it hurts me a thousand times more than any physical pain. You'll understand it one day. You'll understand."

Watanuki reached up to touch Doumeki's cheek, the tears that had collected there dampening the fabric of his bandages. Neither of them said anything for a long time.

"I fell down all those floors," Watanuki whispered at length. "I didn't realize what was happening at first, but as I got closer to the ground, I must have known. I remember thinking that you and Himawari would cry when I hit, so I know I was conscious when I did. But I don't remember what it felt like. Why is that?"

"Our bodies hold the memories of everything else, but it can at least spare us reflecting on the pain."

"Then why do I still remember... why do I still feel this pain in my heart because of you?"

"Because of me?"

"I keep thinking of your face when you found me. I know I couldn't have seen it, but I remember it somehow. That expression you made... why can't I forget it? Why is this the only feeling I can remember, over everything else?"

"Because it is better to feel it than to have it go away."

"You don't understand!"

"I understand better than even you do. If you don't feel it, it's going to keep getting harder for both of us. I love you, and I want you to love me, too. Even if it causes you pain, I'll feel that pain with you, I'll suffer every second, I'll love you until you love not only me, but the you that is precious in my eyes. But I can't do that if..."

"If...?"

"If you take yourself away before I can."

Watanuki's hand fell away from Doumeki's face and settled back on the bed. "I don't remember their faces."

"Whose?"

"My parents. I don't remember how I got to this point. I don't remember the beginning anymore. I remember seeing spirits and growing up, but I don't think there was a point where it all started. I don't think I'm supposed to be here."

"Watanuki." Doumeki clenched the hand still resting on his lap. "You're supposed to be here."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know I'm supposed to be here with you."

"If you hadn't met me, you would have lived a normal life. You never would have realized anything was missing."

"I would have never found the one who was made for my soul. This life would have been empty."

"You only say that now because you took this path. You don't really know. No one does." Tears started to leak from Watanuki's eyes, and he did not posses enough strength to wipe them away.

Doumeki sighed. Watanuki still didn't understand, even though he was closer. So close, but still so hesitant, wanting to grasp, but still pulling back at the last minute. Doumeki was certain Watanuki loved him, but it was love he would not give, love he would push to the shadows because he could not comprehend it. But it was love all the same. Surely something would come of it and it wouldn't always stay as it was now. Surely it would find its way out someday and it wouldn't have to get endlessly harder and harder for them until they both broke in earnest.

Watanuki snuggled his head into the pillow, his eyes closing again. "What did you give her?" he asked.

"Can I be with you tonight?"

"If you tell me what you gave her."

"It's not important."

"What did you give her?"

"What if I give you something better?"

Doumeki leaned forward and pressed their lips together, silencing all further lines of questioning. Watanuki was dozy and unresponsive, but he didn't fight back or protest. He simply accepted it with a familiar resigned sigh and pulled Doumeki under the sheets with him when they parted, reveling in the feel of a warm body beside him.

"I love you," Doumeki said again. "You're looking for a beginning, aren't you?"

"Mmmm."

"Then let this be it. Let's start here."

Watanuki mumbled under his breath and fell asleep resting his head on Doumeki's shoulder. In a few minutes, his body went limp again, his fingers brushing against Doumeki's as the muscles relaxed and he traveled painlessly through dreams, his troubles and fears for a moment forgotten.

Doumeki closed his eyes as well and matched his breathing to Watanuki's, five seconds in and five seconds out, until they were in perfect unison, heading together towards whatever would come next.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Apologies again for my chronic angst... I cannot resist!