"Today's been a good day," you say quietly and throw a brief glance at the
sky. Clouds are mounting up at the horizon with the threat (promise?) of a
storm. You refuse to think closer about the different aspects of your day
(burnt your fingers making breakfast, was chased by errant spirits, dropped
the bento box, lost some important papers, forgot your wallet at home and
didn't realise it until you were standing in front of the cashier in the
check-outs, hurt as you walked past the temple empty-handed) because it just
might break you if you consider what a good day is to you now when compared to
a good day the way it used to be.

You stand in silence for a few minutes longer, breathing in the dense summer
air and the swirling energies of all the living creatures around you. In front
of you there's a whole in the life forces, an empty space that is much too
vast and black for anyone to transcend.
"I brought you bento." You say at last, and set down the box by the stone.

"No," you add churlishly, "it doesn't need more salt!"

You walk away. When you return the box will be empty.

You can't see him, so you can't be sure; maybe it's really someone else,
spirit or human, who takes pity on you and helps you maintain your delusion
that somehow, he's still with you and that therefore you need to make him
bento. And yell at him a little. Maybe.

But you know what you know. You believe. And you wait.

Two pair of eyes happened to meet across a very crowded hall. Doumeki frowned somewhat unhappily. He didn't care to admit it but the still rather fresh wound running diagonally across his torso did hurt - he was just out of the sick bed, after all - and the bandages wrapped tightly around his body under all the finery did little to alleviate the itching and discomfort. Dealing with a sullenly ticking Watanuki about to explode on top of that had not been on his agenda. His frown hardened into a scowl as he broke eye contact; you'd think the litte wretch would be grateful. Apparently however, the only thing he would recieve from his newly acquired husband was scorn.

Doumeki slowly stirred himself from the pillowed stool he was sitting on and painfully marched towards one of the exits. Hopefully Watanuki wouldn't be able to get through the throng of people fast enough to catch him.

Hope and luck alike abandoned him as a hand laid itself authoratively upon his shoulder. A twinge of pain stopped him in his tracks; then Doumeki turned around wearing an incredibly bored expression upon his face. The court, being what it was (i.e. basically an entity with one collective mind, and oh my, it was a base and rank one that delighted as much in the humiliations as in the glory) didn't even bother to pretend that they weren't listening. Not that they needed to strain their ears.

He stifled an exasperated snort. As usual, Watanuki was louder and much less discreet than he himself would have preferred - mentally he resigned himself to enduring yet another wave of fresh (and old) borderline slanderous gossip about his ill-fated marriage and his, admittedly... eccentric partner.

"Yes, husband? Something direly wrong?" He cut through the long rant with a bored drawl. Watanuki blinked and let a few seconds of stunned silence pass as he struggled to get back into his stride. He looked rather fetching in a sweeping, soberly grey creation decorated with swooping swallows in azure and turqouise; Tomoyo must have been at it again, Doumeki thought.

Watanuki noticed his appreciative look and a blush tinged his cheeks. Just lovely, food for another barrage of gossip right there. Doumeki prepared to endure the sly (and the not-so-sly) dibs from the Council tomorrow about whether or not his pretty husband was really broken in after all, and he'd better watch out or someone might attempt to do a better job in the marriage bed than he himself appeared to be doing, and much more along the same vein. What irked him the most was that the Empress usually responded by urging him to be more dedicated, and then throwing him together with his husband in some foolhardy task. 

Beginning to raise his voice again, Watanuki suddenly became aware of all eyes upon them. He blushed violently and his voice dropped into a low, furious whisper.
"I want you to come with me."
Doumeki pretended to pat away a bored yawn. "Where to, fairest?" And loudest. And most idiotic.
"Anywhere. It doesn't really matter; we just need to be private."
His eyebrows rose in slight surprise. "You want to be alone with me? How flattering! I thought you'd made yourself perfectly clear on that matter earlier."
"THAT'S NOT IT! ARE YOU REALLY THAT SIMPLE OR ARE YOU JUST PRETENDING?" In another fit of rage Watanuki told the whole speaking in small letters to shove it and proceeded right onto shouting, and if he sought to recapture the slipping attention of their audience then he succeded, for all eyes were on them again.

Doumeki caught someone in the crowd saying, "My money's on the Count," and someone else replying, "Yes, but which one of them?" which was followed by a lewd quip and general laughter. It appeared that most people were betting on Doumeki, however ungratifying that was. He buried another groan and plugged his ears, content to let Watanuki drag him off to the relative safety of a divan tucked in a corner behind some marble pillars.

"Something is distressing you, husband?" he said mildly enough.
"Yes! YOU!" Watanuki snapped back. "Are you happy now, you got to play the hero? How could you be so... stupid!"
"Saving you from imminent death is stupid how...?"
"It wouldn't have hurt me!" Much.  "Besides..." The unspoken words 'why should you care...?' hovered beneath the defiant stare.
Doumeki felt a fierce rush of cold displeasure at this young man next to him, so casually assuming that Doumeki could be callous enough to not intervene in a dire situation.
"Like hell it wouldn't have. I may have been forced into this sham, this parody of a marriage, but I stand by my word. And I promised you my protection and support, didn't I? So don't expect me to just idly stand by, you arrogant prick."

He laboured to his feet and walked away at as furious a pace as he could manage, never once bothering to look back. So he didn't see the stricken, desolate look on Watanuki's face, nor did it ever enter his mind that perhaps Watanuki was assuming that no one would intervene in a dire situation on his behalf.