Mirror, Mirror
By: Xiao
` This really had no point to it. I really am lacking MeiLi stories, and since I just started highschool, this just happened to pop in my head. One-shot, with no real taste or editting.. For the most part, it isn't serious MeiLi, it's just nice to see Syaoran be nice to her. There. The end. Let's start. `
--
There's no one to see her as she sits there, clothes thrown about the room without any real care. Quietly, she sits at her desk, her mirror looking up to her with the same frown that she holds between her pale flush lips. That mirror reflecting exactly what is her, atleast on the outside, though she wishes it could reflect what is exactly her, because she cannot.
No, no matter how hard she tries, she cannot figure it out. She can only wish that someone would come to her now, and tell her where she belongs in this world. Where he label is, where her friends are. But, unfortunatly, there is no label, no friends, it seems.
She can't help but sigh and begin to weep silently as she pushes that mirror down against the wood, and cross her arms, and look down at herself. It takes only minutes before she realizes what she doing, and pushes her body out of her chair and walks through the small river of her clothes, to her closet.
Yes, that's where identity lies. This is where you find your own label, where you become someone, she tells herself. But who, and why can't she figure it, is what she wonders. This is where you make the decision.
And it's so different than before. She is no longer a child with little judgements, about how you coloured those pictures in class, or how you answered the simple math questions. It is a first, a new territory, and she knows that this is where she's suposed to find her real self.. That is, if her real self is even there.
She draws our pants, a shirt, and dresses herself in silence, before looking at herself in the full length mirror, that also, reflects only her outside features. She sighs, as she looks down at her almost perfect figure draped in clothes that she knows are not her. But she cannot help but force that out of her mind, the idea that that is not her. No, she thinks she has to be different now, to break out of her shell and comfort zone.
She grunts, and undresses, carelessly tossing the outfit aside before wading over to her closet and picking out another. Again, she repeats the process before she is finally frustrated, broken, and perhaps, a little nervous now.
Where do you belong, she asks her without using her voice. She stares at that mirror, almost as if she is hoping for a responce. Where are going to be now that things are going to change, she asks herself, again, without so much as a whisper. Why can't you tell me, if you're supposed to reflect who a person is? she asks that mirror, without her voice, again.
Softly, again, she begins to silently let those tears fall, as she goes and sits on her edge of the bed, the comforter gently warming her pale legs below her skirt. No, she cannot understand what to do anymore; she's gone through all the costumes and masks of highschool labeling, and now, nothing is left of her. Now, she just wants to stay here and sob, and wait for someone to come and help her, help her figure out who she is, or who she is supposed to be in that new enviourment.
That gentle tapping of the door, and she looks down, waiting for that enterance of someone who knows where they are suposed to be, someone who isn't afraid to be in somewhere new. Someone who is so unlike her.
"Meiling?" That voice says, as the doors cracks and brings in the gentleness of the world. Quietly, she stirs uneasily in her seat, and stares at the clothes thrown everywhere, almost as if they were slowly going to take over. He pushes that door open, avoiding the clothes on the floor and looking at his cousin. "We were suposed to leave five minutes ago," he says. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She mumbles in response. This is when he begins to stare at everything just thrown around, and continues until he catches that tone in her voice, it's almost as if she's vunerable (that is if vunerability even has a sound), delicate.. Almost as if she was needing, wanting.
"What's with all the clothes on the ground?" Syaoran asks, again, gently prodding into her problem with an very uncommon soft, kind tone. He looks at her, waiting, and sees that she just looks at that mirror against the wall, watching herself. He knows right away from the look, what is wrong, or what he thinks he knows.
"Hey, you like fine, Mei." He says, as he pushes the clothes away with his feet. And yes, his statement is true, she is fine, beautiful, in fact. That pale, creamy complexion that sets her apart from people, and yet still manages to look nice. The darkest ebony tresses falling down her shoulders, shining as if they were silk strands. Her pale red eyes with her flush lips, that pulled the look together. Finally, her slim figure that fit her perfectly, just adding to her beauty.
"No, that's not it." She says, as she stands and begins to pick up the clothes, one by one, and hanging them on hangers before setting them back in her closet. He watches her, silently, waiting for her to speak again. He notices that small look of discust as she picks up certain things and hangs them back, blinks, and wonders why, silently.
"I..." She begins, and blushes, slightly embarrassed. It was kind of funny, she noted, how she was telling this to a boy, instead of some girl. "I just... Don't know what to wear."
"What you're wearing now looks fine, Meiling." He points out.
"But it's not something I want to wear!" She protests, and begins to shove things into her drawer. She is frustrated, again, wondering why Syaoran just won't give her an explanation, knowing that he is so smart, that he could if he understood what she was trying to figure out. "I can't find anything, I don't know what I'm suposed to wear and where I'm suposed to be," she adds with her frustrated and fast tone. "And just-- Damnit!"
He gets what she means the very instant. Silently, he walks past her into her closet, and opens the second door, pushing past her shirts and such, frowning at some things, before coming upon one at the very end. He pulls the hanger out and hands it to her, and she looks down at it before back at him.
"Isn't that what you like to wear?" He asks.
"Well," she says. "Yeah, but--"
"Well, then wear it if thats what you like." He comes next to her, and holds the fabric between his fingers of the shirt she is wearing now. "And you don't like this outfit, so don't wear it." He adds. "It's not like you have to change who you are when you start highschool, it's not like you're assigned a part that you have to play. Meiling, you be who you want, not who you think you should be, or who someone wants you to be." He looks down at her, his eyes catching her and holding her gaze for a moment.
She looks away, at her closet. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Syaoran," she says in her soft tone. I'll just--" She feels his warm hand against her cheek as he presses his lips against her, sending a soft little jolt of suprise through herself. She is blushing lightly.
"You be who you are," he says as he breaks away and looks straight into her eyes. "and don't bother with anything else."
She smiles at him, still blushing, and grasping her clothes between her arms. That look in her eyes, and that smile on her lips, just seem to tell him thank you, and I love you. He smiles back at her, and then turns for her door. "Come on, we're going to be late." She nods.
By: Xiao
` This really had no point to it. I really am lacking MeiLi stories, and since I just started highschool, this just happened to pop in my head. One-shot, with no real taste or editting.. For the most part, it isn't serious MeiLi, it's just nice to see Syaoran be nice to her. There. The end. Let's start. `
--
There's no one to see her as she sits there, clothes thrown about the room without any real care. Quietly, she sits at her desk, her mirror looking up to her with the same frown that she holds between her pale flush lips. That mirror reflecting exactly what is her, atleast on the outside, though she wishes it could reflect what is exactly her, because she cannot.
No, no matter how hard she tries, she cannot figure it out. She can only wish that someone would come to her now, and tell her where she belongs in this world. Where he label is, where her friends are. But, unfortunatly, there is no label, no friends, it seems.
She can't help but sigh and begin to weep silently as she pushes that mirror down against the wood, and cross her arms, and look down at herself. It takes only minutes before she realizes what she doing, and pushes her body out of her chair and walks through the small river of her clothes, to her closet.
Yes, that's where identity lies. This is where you find your own label, where you become someone, she tells herself. But who, and why can't she figure it, is what she wonders. This is where you make the decision.
And it's so different than before. She is no longer a child with little judgements, about how you coloured those pictures in class, or how you answered the simple math questions. It is a first, a new territory, and she knows that this is where she's suposed to find her real self.. That is, if her real self is even there.
She draws our pants, a shirt, and dresses herself in silence, before looking at herself in the full length mirror, that also, reflects only her outside features. She sighs, as she looks down at her almost perfect figure draped in clothes that she knows are not her. But she cannot help but force that out of her mind, the idea that that is not her. No, she thinks she has to be different now, to break out of her shell and comfort zone.
She grunts, and undresses, carelessly tossing the outfit aside before wading over to her closet and picking out another. Again, she repeats the process before she is finally frustrated, broken, and perhaps, a little nervous now.
Where do you belong, she asks her without using her voice. She stares at that mirror, almost as if she is hoping for a responce. Where are going to be now that things are going to change, she asks herself, again, without so much as a whisper. Why can't you tell me, if you're supposed to reflect who a person is? she asks that mirror, without her voice, again.
Softly, again, she begins to silently let those tears fall, as she goes and sits on her edge of the bed, the comforter gently warming her pale legs below her skirt. No, she cannot understand what to do anymore; she's gone through all the costumes and masks of highschool labeling, and now, nothing is left of her. Now, she just wants to stay here and sob, and wait for someone to come and help her, help her figure out who she is, or who she is supposed to be in that new enviourment.
That gentle tapping of the door, and she looks down, waiting for that enterance of someone who knows where they are suposed to be, someone who isn't afraid to be in somewhere new. Someone who is so unlike her.
"Meiling?" That voice says, as the doors cracks and brings in the gentleness of the world. Quietly, she stirs uneasily in her seat, and stares at the clothes thrown everywhere, almost as if they were slowly going to take over. He pushes that door open, avoiding the clothes on the floor and looking at his cousin. "We were suposed to leave five minutes ago," he says. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She mumbles in response. This is when he begins to stare at everything just thrown around, and continues until he catches that tone in her voice, it's almost as if she's vunerable (that is if vunerability even has a sound), delicate.. Almost as if she was needing, wanting.
"What's with all the clothes on the ground?" Syaoran asks, again, gently prodding into her problem with an very uncommon soft, kind tone. He looks at her, waiting, and sees that she just looks at that mirror against the wall, watching herself. He knows right away from the look, what is wrong, or what he thinks he knows.
"Hey, you like fine, Mei." He says, as he pushes the clothes away with his feet. And yes, his statement is true, she is fine, beautiful, in fact. That pale, creamy complexion that sets her apart from people, and yet still manages to look nice. The darkest ebony tresses falling down her shoulders, shining as if they were silk strands. Her pale red eyes with her flush lips, that pulled the look together. Finally, her slim figure that fit her perfectly, just adding to her beauty.
"No, that's not it." She says, as she stands and begins to pick up the clothes, one by one, and hanging them on hangers before setting them back in her closet. He watches her, silently, waiting for her to speak again. He notices that small look of discust as she picks up certain things and hangs them back, blinks, and wonders why, silently.
"I..." She begins, and blushes, slightly embarrassed. It was kind of funny, she noted, how she was telling this to a boy, instead of some girl. "I just... Don't know what to wear."
"What you're wearing now looks fine, Meiling." He points out.
"But it's not something I want to wear!" She protests, and begins to shove things into her drawer. She is frustrated, again, wondering why Syaoran just won't give her an explanation, knowing that he is so smart, that he could if he understood what she was trying to figure out. "I can't find anything, I don't know what I'm suposed to wear and where I'm suposed to be," she adds with her frustrated and fast tone. "And just-- Damnit!"
He gets what she means the very instant. Silently, he walks past her into her closet, and opens the second door, pushing past her shirts and such, frowning at some things, before coming upon one at the very end. He pulls the hanger out and hands it to her, and she looks down at it before back at him.
"Isn't that what you like to wear?" He asks.
"Well," she says. "Yeah, but--"
"Well, then wear it if thats what you like." He comes next to her, and holds the fabric between his fingers of the shirt she is wearing now. "And you don't like this outfit, so don't wear it." He adds. "It's not like you have to change who you are when you start highschool, it's not like you're assigned a part that you have to play. Meiling, you be who you want, not who you think you should be, or who someone wants you to be." He looks down at her, his eyes catching her and holding her gaze for a moment.
She looks away, at her closet. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Syaoran," she says in her soft tone. I'll just--" She feels his warm hand against her cheek as he presses his lips against her, sending a soft little jolt of suprise through herself. She is blushing lightly.
"You be who you are," he says as he breaks away and looks straight into her eyes. "and don't bother with anything else."
She smiles at him, still blushing, and grasping her clothes between her arms. That look in her eyes, and that smile on her lips, just seem to tell him thank you, and I love you. He smiles back at her, and then turns for her door. "Come on, we're going to be late." She nods.