; in dreams we meet. ( doumeki )
Despite himself, Watanuki had been falling into the past more and more recently.
Life as he knew it had been steadily changing for over ten years, now. Those he knew were growing, aging with time; moving from one place to the next, as they should have been. They were living; and with each passing day, the shop keeper could always find something new about them if he looked hard enough. A new line creasing the skin of their face. Different clothes, different smells; they were the same, and yet, so different from when he had first met them.
It was to be expected, of course. One could not control the growth, nor the life of another person.
Watanuki was merely a spectator; watching as that uncontrolled time changed faces, tinted hair with gray, and withered those he knew down to their very last flame.
It was a lie to say that he had not changed, but he was also the same as he always had been. His skin did not wrinkle, his face did not age. His body stayed thin, lithe; bones protruding at the hips, the collar, the ribcage. Every time he saw his reflection in the mirror, a teenage boy would be staring back at him with weathered blue eyes, and messy, unkempt hair; dressed in an almost too tidy school uniform. But that boy was a stranger to him now. He no longer knew who that person was- he only recognized the gaze of mismatched hues; one golden, one blue. Instead of school clothes, he was always drowning in colourful silk that would never belong to him, and yet, he continued to clutch at it so desperately. He would never grow into the countless kimono that were stored inside of the closed off space; they would always slip off his shoulders, expose pale, creamy skin that hadn't aged a single day since he was seventeen.
Physically, he was still the same. But Watanuki's mind had aged profusely; inside, he ached, and his bones were beginning to creak. The world was visible to him in a different light; changing each day as a new wound was inflicted, as a new customer fueled him with emotions that he forgot he had. His new life was just as apparent as everyone else's, something that would be staying the same for a very long time.. and yet, he kept finding himself remembering. Searching his memories of school days and lunch underneath the shade of a tree; of bickering, laughter; paid prices and choices that threatened to rip certain feelings apart. Even though a certain person had remained constant in his mind, in his entire self; there was sometimes more, more than he could handle.
And when that happened, he usually found himself in a familiar place he could now only visit in a dream.
The dark area around him was silent; all he could hear was a breeze that echoed in the dream space, but where that wind could even be coming from, he never questioned. A familiar cherry blossom tree stood before him, with empy boxed lunches sitting on a faint yellow blanket- they were never filled with food, and the occupants who would have been there.. of course, they never appeared in the dream. Watanuki was always alone, but he knew where this was supposed to be. Although it always felt strange, being at a place he used to eat his lunch at school with his friends dressed in a pale blue yukata; draping past his feet on the soft grass beneath his feet. His glasses had been left in the world of the awake; and as always, he was left to his vices. Left to live through dreams that were once memories- that was once something he did almost every day of his life.
An empty smile traced his lips as fingers did the same to the bark of the tree; touching the outlines as petals gently fell around him. He wanted to sit, but it wouldn't have felt right without Himawari or Doumeki, so he always stood. It shouldn't have been so quiet, either- he should have been fawning over Himawari, while yelling at Doumeki for something or other, and Himawari's cheerful laughter should have been filling the air, with Doumeki speaking only short words, every few minutes. But he couldn't have it that way anymore. Unlike many other things about himself, this would never be the same.
" .. I suppose I have no right to complain, do I? " he murmured quietly, pressing his fingers harder against the surface. " After all.. I'm the one who continues to bring myself here. Even if I'll never get used to this. "
Though suddenly, something caught his attention-- snapping his focus away from the tree. It almost didn't reach his ears, but he knew every sound from this place, every shift in the wind, every footstep he made- and this was not one of them. This belonged to somebody else.
He stayed still for a moment, before slowly, he turned, gaze searching for the source of the sound- and when he found it, every inch of him froze. He felt his breath still, his eyes widen, his heart drop into the depths of his chest.
.. this wasn't a memory. This wasn't a figment of his imagination, something he created- it was real. He was real. But it was a version of that self he hadn't seen in so long, never would like this again- so why.. was he here?
How did he end up in a dream that was not even happening in his time?
