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"Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional."

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Growing Up
(Stories about age, withdrawal and nostalgia)
Written by Eina

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Summary: With the intention of escaping, Tomoyo packs her bags and leaves to study for a semester in a foreign country. Is it luck, fate or just pure misfortune that she unexpectedly crosses paths with an old friend? Srsly ExT.

A/N: I really wish I'm not hit by plotbunnies when I'm studying for midterms. Sigh.

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I. Vintage

He doesn't even know how it happened. The last thing he remembers is him walking along by Robson and Granville, debating whether or not he was going to go do a little shopping. Next thing he knew, he was in bed.

(Well, that was a lie. It's not that he didn't remember; it was just that everything was blurry. He remembers bumping into someone that smelled oddly familiar. Being Eriol, he did what he always did when he meets a distracting beautiful woman: he asks her out for a drink. The drink, which at first was really a way to reconnect, turned into more. The random and not-so-accidental brushing of skin turned into something more as well.)

Enough about fuzzy details that didn't matter, he laughed. It was unbelievable who was in bed with him, he made sure it was her before confirming that it was her. He must've peered under the sheets, carefully, three times. (Each time noticing how lovely she smelled like and that it made him want to… well.) It was odd.

"Mmm…" the girl beside him moaned softly as she hugged the covers tightly. She's lovely, Eriol thought to himself. How come he never noticed her before? Perhaps it was because he was too busy creating incidents to make the card captor transform the Clow Cards. He was known to become too preoccupied with a task, after all.

"ERIOL-SAMA!" Eriol was quickly kicked out of his subconscious when Ruby-Moon kicked the door open. She was holding a tray with pancakes and orange juice. He appreciated the gesture, but certainly not today.

Nakuru tilted her head in curiosity, "Since when did you start sleeping without a shirt on?"

There really were no lines to be crossed in Nakuru's world. Eriol winced, "Recently?"

"Well no matter, I made you pancakes!"

"Thanks, but do you mind leaving it in the kitchen? I kind of want to get some more sleep," Eriol tried to remain as composed as ever. Don't show weakness.

"Nonsense! A growing boy needs his pancakes!" Sometimes, Eriol forgets how persistent Nakuru can be. Why did he not make her as uncaring and as displeased with the world like Yue is? She made a beeline towards Eriol's king-sized bed and noticed something rather peculiar. There was a shape lying beside Eriol.

She gave him a look: it had the smirk, the eyebrow movements, and the knowing nod.

He glared at her; glared like he never had in his life. This was the ultimate glare of glares.

"Hmm?" The shape beside Eriol rolled over, rubbed her eyes… and nearly died of shock (and perhaps of embarrassment?)

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Spinel heard someone scream really loudly from the living room. He wasn't quite sure whose voice it was because Nakuru doesn't sound that feminine and Eriol was not female. As curious as he was, he really didn't want to figure it out. He was too busy watching this show about interior decorating. They needed his knowledge; their new apartment was screaming make-over.

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After five minutes of yelling and blushing almost every shade of red possible and Nakuru apologizing repeatedly while giving Eriol looks, the pancakes were eaten.

"Sorry, I'll help you find your clothes in a bit," Eriol offered as he noticed that her eyes were quickly, albeit a bit panicked, surveying his room. He also noticed that there was this unbelievable amount of happiness in his belly and it was not from the pancakes.

"Hiiragizawa-san, are you alright?"

He blinked and stared at the familiar girl in front of him. Oh she grew up, Eriol smirked to himself as he carefully observed her from head to toe. She still had the grace of a ballerina, that interestingly pale skin and the ebony hair that contrasted it so. Her eyes were still as piercing and as knowing as ever, he added to his mental notebook.

She was staring at him, Eriol noticed. He had completely forgotten that she asked a question. Sometimes he forgot that he had the hormones of a young twenty year old male; hormones that were completely helpless when in the presence of a rather attractive female.

He smiled and nodded, "I'm a bit tired, Daidouji-san. I had an enjoyable night though, how about you?" Eriol had to admit; it was an interesting sight seeing the ever composed Tomoyo Daidouji blush all the shades of red known to man and some more. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," he apologized after noticing that she was genuinely embarrassed about the whole fiasco.

(He was just a bit curious as to why, but he can always ask her that some other time.)

"Nice shirt," she squeaked, trying to change the topic desperately. Eriol noted that his favourite shirt barely reached her thighs and smiled to himself. Oh to be young and be under the influence of alcohol.

(Eriol Hiiragizawa is a gentleman, of course. Noticing that Tomoyo Daidouji wanted to go retrieve her garments that were conveniently scattered all over his room, he offered her a shirt to cover herself in.)

"Thanks. It's vintage, Daidouji-san."

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A/N: Oh dear, is this a multi-chaptered fic? You bet your pretty faces on it! Will this be continued? Well, I've been procrastinating a lot, so the answer for that is yes. Please review and tell me what you think about this teaser chapter!

(I promise there's a plot. Also, if you know where this fic is set, well go get yourself a cookie and give yourself a pat on the back. (: )