Everything
By: azuresass22.
'I can be everything.'
'Everything?'
'…everything.'
"What do you want?"
It was a strange thing to ask but something happened when he did. I was surprised I'd actually noticed it but, the way he asked me, with his eyes just searing into me made something inside of me tremble—made something shift and lock into place. Maybe it was the way his voice wrapped around the words, whispering forcefully soft and fluid to my ears and only stepping closer to me, when I stood from the swings I'd been sitting on despite the pouring rain soaking me to the bone…that scared me.
I couldn't believe he actually had the gall to ask when he just blurted it out, out of nowhere. If it had been any other time, I wouldn't have taken him so seriously and teased him instead, but with the way he was looking at me…I don't think I'd have been able to pull off a joke.
Who would, when the person they were talking to, was looking at you as though they knew what you wanted? But then again, how could he possibly know, when I didn't even know?
And besides that…something in the way he held himself in front of me, with his shoulders back, back straight, chin up and his eyes flickering from a soft amber to a blazing gold, told me that this wasn't something to joke about. No matter how much I wanted to joke about it—because he was making me nervous as hell like this—I couldn't bring myself to force a cheery smile or teasing tone.
I inwardly sighed so as not to attract his attention towards me anymore than I already have—and even though his whole attention was already on me, you could never know when it came to Syaoran. Somehow, his focus has never been so easily deterred—I should know, I've tried every possible way I could think of to distract him and none of them have worked. I blame it on his long experience in martial arts...or just plain athletics. His academics are proof of his focus, too.
"Sakura, what do you want?"
I once read somewhere that your name was the sweetest sound you could ever hear…That is a load of bullshit. Okay? Okay…because something inside so did not just try to quaver when his voice rumbled in my ears with the three syllables of my name tumbling from his mouth. And no, his voice did not sound warm and it did not—I repeat—did not make me want to fidget.
For me to fidget, he would have to have an effect over me.
Which he most certainly did not.
Because for him to have an effect over me would be for me to care.
And I don't.
I think…
I don't care...well maybe...I...
Okay fine, it's more like I shouldn't.
But for some reason, I do…
I'm not sure if it's because he's my friend or if it's something more…
I frown, a little bitter inside—even if it was something more…
Syaoran had a girlfriend.
"I don't know, Syaoran," molten amber eyes not wavering against my jaded ones, while my voice sounded surprisingly rebellious despite my uncertainties, "Am I supposed to?"
"I'm serious, Sakura. I just want to know."
"I don't want anything, Syaoran," I muttered back to him in a low voice.
He raked a hand through his unruly chocolate hair, and then there was that pang of misplaced feeling I've felt ever since I met him that same rainy day here in this same park, when he first moved from Hong Kong. Even now, it was still a feeling I couldn't discern. Sometimes I enjoyed the feeling, and marvelled at how light it made me feel, other times, it made me want to run away and hide from the dangerous thoughts that certain feeling led me to believe I sometimes I had of him.
"Nothing. You don't want anything at all?"
I couldn't understand the hint of desperation he had in that one question. What could Syaoran possibly gain from knowing what I wanted?
My face scrunched up in confusion, "Should I?"
"Damn it, Sakura. Just think about it!"
A shiver ran down my spine when a particularly angry gust of wind hit me along with a spark of anger in his eyes, causing cold to burst through the protection of my faded jeans and navy windbreaker until my toes curled subconsciously in my boots. I don't think Syaoran noticed, as his hair was already plastered to his face and his own black jacket and dark jeans much in the same condition as mine—clinging to our skin.
"Sakura!"
I stiffened in shock when he closed the distance between us, and I felt the clammy skin of my arms gain some of his body heat through my jacket from where his hands gently grasped me.
"I want...I," I flushed under his gaze and under the cold when my teeth chattered, causing my reply to come out with me stammering. I swallowed when his grip on my arms tightened as though he was anticipating something. I panicked, "I...Syaoran, what's this all about?!"
"Just tell me what you want, Sakura!"
I decided to try and answer him, even if it was only to placate him.
"I want…I want…good grades and…and a nice house to—"
I flinched when Syaoran scowled at me, glaring with an irritated look, "I want to know what you want, Sakura—not what your Dad or what Touya wants or your teachers, friends or whatever—I want to know what you want. Nothing else."
For a while, I simply stood dumbstruck as he held me up, streams and rivulets of rain running down the sides of our cheeks and past the shielding collars of our jackets as a puddle began to form where our shoes were while the sky grew a dreary grey bordering on an ominous midnight blue.
Forgetting about everything I'd ever been taught or told to follow and listen to…I found that there was nothing left of me. Without the guidelines, there was nothing to tell me about anything worth wanting. How did I know what I wanted, if I didn't know what it was like to want something?
Is that what that strange longing inside my subconscious was? Was it...want? Was there something missing that I wanted back but couldn't figure out? Maybe. That's how it felt at least…
I shook my head.
Oh my God…What was wrong with me…I was taking this way too seriously. All he did was ask me a simple question and I all I had to do was answer it and then be done with it. I mean, I'm going crazy with this freaking whirlwind in my mind and all I have to do is answer. It's just supposed to be a simple question.
But it couldn't be simple.
Because things were never simple when it involved him for some reason—don't ask me why, because I don't know myself—but I still maintained that 'want' couldn't possibly have anything to do with the way he was staring so unflinchingly at me, or how there was some weird feelings in that area that surrounded my heart and kept my breathing in order along
with the grumbles of my stomach…oh, and let's not forget that swell in my throat that my voice couldn't seem to break through.
And then just as I felt his fingers tightening in his anxiety as he was about to shake me again until it almost hurt me with whiplash, a burst of anger shot through me and I shouted over the pelting rain, "I don't know what I want!"
His penetrating stare scorched through me, "Yes, you do! You've just been so busy trying to please everyone else that maybe you forgot! You're always letting people tell you what you want!"
My eyes widened.
I did?
Now that I thought about it, it had always felt like everything was planned out for me from the start…like people were telling me what I wanted.
That I'd like this new dessert at the bakery shop without a doubt, or that I only worked hard for my grades so that I could get a good job and big house and lots of money, or that when I put an effort in how I looked on a certain day it was to get a guy to do a double-take and look at me because of some 'crush' I apparently had on them.
Everyone really was constantly telling me what to do and what to want. It was so ridiculous how pulled apart I felt now that he had pointed it out to me, it was like I was being tugged in two different directions where only half of me would be able to go either way just to please someone and make them shut up and stop bugging me. Maybe I never noticed it before because I'd always dismissed it for later contemplation…except I'd never get to think about it because I'd be busy cooking dinner…like my brother told me to.
Because seriously.
People everywhere tell you what to do, how to look, how to act, how to feel and what to want… all the time…if you pay attention that is.
Like for instance…
The media of celebrities told me I wanted fame and money so that I could be noticed and known—that I wanted to be someone who was rich and respected. Girls at school told me I wanted to be pretty so that I could have an ideal boyfriend who was captain of the senior soccer team. Other people told me I wanted to be popular so that everyone would know my name. Teachers said I should take extra courses so I could graduate early like I wanted since being senior girls' soccer captain helped me. My family told me that I wanted to stay a child so I wouldn't have to deal with responsibility and so they wouldn't ever have to let me go.
The list just went on and on.
Even authority figures told me what to do, and they were people I didn't even know! They told me I didn't want to drink and drive because it's against the law but hell, to authority figures, everything is a rule—and you never wanted to break a rule. Religion told me I wanted to be kind and gracious in forgiveness so that I could experience that utopia widely known as Heaven. I mean seriously, religion even says I don't want to have sex until I marry because it's a sin but that I'll be 'relieved to hear' that it's amazing when the time is right…
Like what the hell is that?
How the hell would you know the time is right, when you think it's right but really, you're just feeling horny and looking for a booty call otherwise? They want you chaste and innocent but nothing is chaste and innocent in this age anymore…
So why do people assume like that?
Haven't they ever heard that by assuming you make an 'ass out of you and me'?
"Well maybe, I don't want anything!" I snapped from beneath soppy bangs.
"You have to want something, Sakura!"
Did I?
What the hell would anyone know about what I wanted? They weren't me; they didn't have my thoughts, feelings, morals, opinions or whatever on things. Granted, I didn't want to drink and drive or have sex just yet or any of that, but still. They didn't act the way I did or see, hear and taste things the way I did. If they did, then everyone's favorite food would be freaking pizza for all I know, and everyone would love rock music and hate rap. Or maybe red would actually be thought of as pink.
Really, maybe I wanted to break the rules and to fail that next geography test or have pimples so idiotic, horny morons wouldn't give me wolf whistles or catcalls just for walking down the hall in the school uniform skirt. Maybe I wanted to be poor; God knows the rich can't get themselves any privacy knowing that the person they slept with would end up being plastered all over next month's gossip issue. Maybe I didn't want the hot senior captain of the boys' soccer team. Maybe I didn't want to be the senior girls' soccer captain and just wanted to play soccer because I had fun playing it. Maybe I wanted to dress up nice just for the sake of looking nice…
And I found it strangely coincidental that Syaoran was that 'senior boys' soccer team's hot captain' that the girls at my school told me I wanted to be pretty for—which is not true!!
I mean, God…could I not just do something just for the hell of it?
Why did there have to be a reason?
Why did I have to know what I wanted when I was only fucking seventeen?!
And yeah, you heard right—I dropped the 'F bomb'.
Whoop-dee-doo.
I looked back at him, with his strong jaw and bottomless eyes and his endless locks of chocolate, a soft, pleading smile hinting at the corner of his lips.
And I snapped.
Maybe I knew what I wanted after all.
But that didn't mean I had to admit it.
I shoved him away from me, not caring or fussing over him for once as he stumbled in surprise when words flew from out of me before I even realized I was taking out all my pent up anger and frustration towards everyone else on Syaoran…who was only trying to help.
Too bad it wasn't working.
"You just said that I always let people tell me what to do—and now you're telling me that I have to want something?! How would you know what I want, Syaoran? Why should I know what I want?! I'm freaking seventeen! I don't know, okay?"
But where I remained too stubborn to stay oblivious, Syaoran stayed stubborn enough to be persistent.
"Don't lie to me, Sakura. I know you better than that. If you didn't know what you wanted then you wouldn't be so afraid to just answer my damn question! You wouldn't have avoided me for the last two fucking weeks. You wouldn't be taking it out on me."
I threw my hands into the air, sending stray raindrops splattering to the ground.
"You know what then, Syaoran? Why don't you tell me what you want instead? Because this is going nowhere."
I nearly kicked myself when I noticed the renewed gleam in his eyes and I couldn't see his hands fisted at his sides, covered by his sleeves.
And I knew I was done for when his voice came out passionate and demanding.
"I want you to stop ignoring me. I want you to stop running away. I want you to talk to me. I want you to look at me. I want you to accept that I kissed you three weeks ago, because I want to be with you."
Funny that I wanted the exact opposite, I didn't want to look at him because I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself from following my impulses—and I have a lot of those, they usually lead me to trouble—I wanted to ignore what happened and just move on and pretend it never happened because I didn't want things to change. I didn't want to be afraid.
It was almost frustrating how I knew what I didn't want but didn't know what I did want… is that even possible?
I pulled at my hair in agonized indecision, "This isn't just about what you want!"
He crossed his arms calmly, "Well, maybe if you could just tell me what you want, I wouldn't be having such a hard time having this conversation with you right now, now would I?"
"You have a girlfriend, Syaoran! And I don't want to be the reason why you leave her!" I yelled at him, sputtering indignantly.
"I broke up with her three weeks ago, Sakura," he mumbled in disbelief, "before it even happened."
I could understand his disbelief, after all, I was his best friend. I was supposed to know what was going on with him. He could've been lying to get what he wanted from me, but I knew that he wouldn't lie to me and especially about something like this. Plus, he just looked too sincere for me to even consider he might be lying.
"Well...you, and...I..." I scoffed to myself, annoyed with the way I was probably portraying myself as an illiterate bimbo.
Great.
"And?" he raised a brow at me, ignoring that I just yelled at him.
"You shouldn't have kissed me," I whispered finally, remembering the source of my problems right now.
Remembering how he had kept my gaze enchanted by his, leading me to believe the traitorous notion that he wasn't just kissing me out of tradition...but because he...because he wanted to. And I remember how he curled a lock of my hair that fell from my ponytail, behind my ear and traced my delicate jawling with butterfly touches of his hand, as though he were afraid he would hurt me.
His eyes hardened, in hurt or anger, I couldn't tell, "Don't blame me for tradition. It's not my fault Tomoyo went crazy with the mistletoe! You know how freaking crazy your cousin is! She freaking videotapes you, Sakura! You can't put all the blame on—"
He had been so painfully loving, and it was more than I deserved considering our relationship was supposed to be platonic, sibling like at the most, yet when he had gradually leaned forward until I was breathing the same air as him, my heart had skipped a beat and I lost my breath to his coaxing lips.
I had grown dazed and lightheaded as he combed his hand through my hair in that habit he often did, and this time instead of seeming a simple friendly gesture, it became so much more intimate, when he tilted my head back for better access, deepening the kiss further until lights and stars and fireworks exploded from behind my closed lids and I had been completely willing and putty in his strong protective embrace.
I remembered how for a while, the horror at what had occurred failed to register in my mind and I belatedly saw the shocked looks on everyone's faces, the gleeful one on Tomoyo-chan's and the furious one on Syaoran's girlfriend—who according to him, had already been his ex by that time. But I had been so preoccupied by the adoring look in his eye, so overwhelmed and drowning in it that I hadn't been able to make myself react in any other way but to avoid him...
I told myself I did it because the feelings would go away, and had sometimes wondered why it wasn't freaking working because it hadn't meant much.
But it had.
It had been my first kiss...
Syaoran stopped with his rant, noticing that I had missed out on practically all of it judging by the dreamy look on my face that he was so accustomed to seeing, and then his expression turned annoyed again, "Damn it, Sakura. Are you even listening to me? Here I am, trying to convince you that—"
"Everything," I murmured.
He blinked at me when I cut him off and a frown began to form on his mouth and crease his forehead when he couldn't seem to understand what I meant…I didn't know what I meant…it just happened. And I just blurted it out…
"Wh-what?"
"You…asked me what I wanted," I coughed, clearing my throat to try and reach for calm and rationality through my faint whisper that he craned his head forward to hear. I was shivering and felt dizzy…I like to think it was feverish delirium that made me wrap my arms tight around his waist and bury my nose into the curve between his neck and shoulder, until we stood getting soaked together with our heartbeats mingling after the other. "Everything…I want…everything."
I felt the tightness of his throat and heard him swallow before tentatively wrapping wet arms around me.
"Everything..." I heard him mutter to himself thoughtfully.
"Can...you give me that, Syaoran?" I nuzzled my nose deeper into his chest, hearing his heartbeat warm and steady and lulling me into security where my temper tantrum had caused me to fearfully run away from and deny myself of, "Can you?"
He held me tighter to his chest, and I could feel puffs of air brushing against my cheek where I could hear his breathing.
"I can do better than that, Sakura," he buried his nose in my now soaked hair and soothingly stroked the tangles out of it.
"How?" my eyes drooped in response to his tender minstrations.
"Easy," Syaoran smiled at me, that same smile that I knew he never smiled for anyone but me, "I can be everything, you want."
"Everything?"
He nodded firmly at me and I was glad to see him back to his confident, unwavering self.
"Everything."
And then he leaned forward, gazing at me as he traced my jaw with his fingertips, curled a tendril of moist tresses behind my ear and convinced me with his persuasive kiss.
It was soft.
Warm.
Gentle.
Tender.
Amazing.
Breathtaking.
It was everything I wanted.
Before you guys think I stole this oneshot, I'm still the same author. I just changed my name and am right in the middle of uploading the rest of my documents and finishing up some other works in progress.
ser3ne eternity.
aka;;azuresass22.
