Disclaimer. I don't own anything except Hana, CLAMP owns everyone else.
Update: (Now that I have spent a year or two working on my stories I have now realized how angst-filled and amateur this first story is and would like to inform any future readers that the only reason I am keeping this story up on this site is to hopefully show how I've progressed since the making of this.)
He's really gone. He's dead. Syaoran... He died because of me. If I hadn't gone with them, if they weren't so kind, if he had just let me die… he'd still be alive. I stared at the kitchen floor, silent tears falling onto the cold tiles, lost in my grief.
What if it happens again? What if I'm in danger and they sacrifice themselves for me again? I lift my eyes and look around, my gaze landing on the knife block.
This is all my fault. Poor Syaoran... he didn't deserve to die, I did...
In a daze, I stumble to the counter, my hand grabs the handle of the nearest knife and I drag the blade across my wrist, blood dribbling down my fingers and mixing with the puddle of sorrow already on the floor.
Why is death so messy? I wonder, as I stare at my crimson essence infused with my teardrops of guilt … Fai's probably going to fuss about the mess when they find me, but it doesn't matter anyway… they all hate me... I fall to my knees, the smooth tiles as cold as the death that I so openly embrace- and make several more cuts, each deeper than the one before.
Someone quietly grabs my hand and gently takes the knife from it. I look up, my empty eyes red from crying for days meeting sad, calm, beautiful blue ones. "F-Fai? Why are you awake?" I try to ask but it comes out in sobs. My guilt crashes over me again, threatening to drown me. He takes a look at my mangled wrist. "We need to bandage this." is all he says and goes to look for the first-aid kit.
Why bother? He should understand… I want to die… I need to suffer for my crimes. He comes back, kneels down next to me and starts to wrap my wrist. I watch from what feels like a million miles away as his beautiful, graceful fingers are quickly dyed a deep garnet.
"This wasn't an accident, was it?" he tenderly asks, but it sounds more like a statement than a question. I don't respond… I can't respond, so I just sit there… sniffling like a child.
"Why, Hana?" I notice he doesn't even bother to use his usual honorifics. Probably because I'm not worth it anymore. It takes what seems like an eternity for me to respond, making me feel even more guilt.
"I… I… killed him..." I manage to say between sobs. "I killed him!" I wrap my arms around him like he is one of my old teddy bears and sob into his shoulder, wishing with all my being that I will just cease to exist. "Hana..." is all he says, his voice touched with tenderness, and I cry even harder. "I… I'm so sorry... you must really hate me..." I barely whisper the last part, but he hears me anyway.
"Hana…" he gently says, his voice filled with tenderness. " I don't hate you… no one does. How could we? It wasn't your fault."
I push away from his chest with all the strength I can manage. "But it was! She was after me… not him!" I scream. "It's ALL my fault!" I collapse back onto him, my sobs returning with a vengeance. My faith, my will, even my strength disintegrates into nothingness, leaving only terrifying emptiness and pervasive anguish in its wake.
I feel his arms gently embrace me again, one small, soft, and tender spot of Hope and Light in the all-encompassing darkness of the Hell that I have found myself in. We stay like this for a time while I cry my heart out, Fai just listening, holding, and comforting me.
All this happened a few weeks ago, and when I look back I realize something.
He saved me.