Disclaimer: I don't own CCS.

Summary: (One-Shot) Sakura, seventeen and growing, is depressed from one small incident. Who do you think would comfort her?

Orange Sandals

Seventeen and completely single now. That's what I am at the moment. It's happened to everyone. I just didn't think it would happen to us.

His name was Ichiro, who was also seventeen. We did everything a couple our age would do: hold hands, talk, giggle, flirt, went out on dates, and the occasional making-out. Heck, he even cheated on me. That's something a lot of girls my age experience, right?

I can't say I'm not hurt. Crying for two days doesn't count as "not being hurt."

As I sat on the new suede sofa with a bag of potato chips, I felt my thighs jiggle under my sweats and saturated oil and trans-fat filled on the tips of my fingers. My hair nappy into piggy tails and apparently matched my fingers. Bags were held under my eyes and skin felt rough because truthfully I hadn't washed in days. There was nothing and no one I had to impress… anymore.

My cell phone rang. I bit my lip as my eyes gazed at it for a while, hoping it might have been him, wanting to take me back. "Moshi-Moshi?" I answered urgently.

"Sakura, why haven't you talking to me?" Tomoyo softly asked me.

"Tomoyo…"

"Of course, it's me. Sakura, please. Let me in."

"Huh?" I walked towards the doorway only to find a gray figure with slight curves and long flowing hair. Hanging up, I opened the door. "Sorry, I guess I didn't hear you."

For a minute, she just looked at me with a bit of pity. You know, one of those looks where someone is pretty disappointed in you, but knows you feel bad enough. "You need to get cleaned up."

"Huh?"

She shook her head at me as she looked at me from my toes to my head. Holding a plastic bag, she smiled. "I made some new clothes I wanted you to wear."

"You didn't have to."

"It's not for you." Suddenly, her smile faded. "I want my best friend back. I want Kinomoto Sakura. You know, seventeen and gorgeous? Perky Cheerleader? My model for my summer collection?"

I just groaned.

With a wrinkle between her brows, she pulled me down the hallway, up the stairs, and turned, heading for the bathroom. Then suddenly, she pulled my sweats down. "Tomoyo!"

"Pull yourself together. Take a shower, or I'll wash you myself."

I sighed, really not wanting to hear this from the one person that I thought that I could get away with looking like shit. "But—"

"I don't care." Staring into her eyes, I've never seen her so serious. Her nostrils were slightly flared and still wrinkled between her eye brows. For a moment, I was hurt even more. She was the last person I would think to ever say such a phrase to anyone. "I'm being selfish right now, so please, Sakura, please, take a shower. If not for you, at least, for me."

Thinking about it, I sighed again. Picking up my sweats, I placed them in the laundry hamper and began to slide off my clothes. Helping, Tomoyo slid off my hair bands and smiled again, mouthing the words, "Thanks." As she left, she placed the bag of clothes on the sink, closing the door.

The sprinkle of warm water fell on my skin, a feeling I hadn't felt in, well, two days. Grabbing the shampoo bottle, I squeezed the shampoo on to my finally wet hair and scrubbed my hair well lathering it up with shampoo, thinking, 'I'll try to smile, if I can, Tomoyo.'

Stepping out of the shower, I dried myself off and wrapped my hair in the towel I was using. Walking towards the bag of clothes Tomoyo made for me, I smirked a bit. Holding up a delicate top, I read the cotton-knit sweetheart neckline: Sakura. It was knit in kanji with a vibrate orange. After an examination of it, I slipped it on. Perfect fit. Next, I found a simple, light white skirt and a pair of matching pair of orange sandals. Tomoyo was really something.

Drying my hair with a towel, I stepped out of the bathroom feeling the easy and soft breeze of the door opening and a scent of eggs and rice with my name on it. Oh my god, I almost forgot the smell of actual food! I thought, remembering the two days worth of fatty junk food.

I walked down stairs with an empty plastic bag, a pair of sandals, and semi-dried hair, uncombed. "See, now doesn't that feel nice?" Tomoyo smiled as she placed a tray of food on to the dining room table. "Come on, I'm letting you taste this new recipe I have for eggs and pancakes. It has a good western and Japanese touch to it."

"Really." Quickly, I placed the sandals at the door way, and ran to the table. Grabbing the plate I first saw, I stuffed a mountain of pancakes into my mouth and swallowed it hard. I don't even remember chewing it.

Tomoyo took the plate from me. "Eat it. Don't kill yourself with it, silly." Like a mother to her five-year-old daughter, she cut the pancake into bits and piece for me and did the same thing with the omelet she made.

With crumbs on my mouth, I gave a wide grin and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Saku-chan!"

"Hey, I'm not ten anymore."

Tomoyo shook her head. "Stop whining." She scolded. "Now, I made this breakfast with love. You should eat it like any other meal I've made for you." She smiled sweetly.

I bluntly looked back at her. "Are you okay? You seem a little grumpy."

Shifting her eyes towards me, she replied, "Right question, but wrong person."

Playing stupid, I said, "What is that supposed to mean?" I knew exactly what she meant as I opened my mouth, taking one piece at a time.

She sat next to me, frowning a bit. "You know I'm worried. You don't have to suffer for something Ichiro—"

"It's not about him."

"… For something Ichiro did." Throwing her arm around me, she tilted her head on my shoulder. "He's not worth your tears, Sakura."

Tomoyo was right. She was always right on things like this, but there were those memories. I couldn't have just pretended those were all old and were just the spoils of our relationship. We had something special. Even though I know it was wrong to cry over him, somehow the feeling just felt right.

Looking away from her, I felt ashamed.

"Let's go somewhere. You need to get out."

I groaned and with a resistant response, I was actually able to say, "I know."

The tapping of the metal spoons on the porcelain plates rang through my head. Pure silence dawned on us. Even on a dim day with dirty clouds and an awkward silence, I was able to smile a bit. Every bit had an exploding taste of hot sauce and ketchup. I love food, but why wasn't it able to make me happy?

After breakfast, we placed the dishes in the sink and washed them. "Aww… Do you have to scrub so slowly? Come on! I want to take you somewhere." I glanced over at her smiling and quickly rinsing the dishes.

I sighed. Being forced against my will was not the morning I had in mind. Obviously, I didn't want to go out. I didn't want to pretend that I wasn't hurting and just move on with my life. Just for a little longer, Tomoyo didn't have to be the good friend. Just a little longer, I would be able to mope and weep over one asshole. Just a while longer, I asked.

Picking up her things, she pulled me towards the door, where we clearly were going to somewhere I had no idea of. A little hesitant, I stopped. "Why?"

"Trust me." And once again, the same old, once reliable, smile appeared on face.

Walking around the corner, we approached a rustic café with dim lights inside and the bitter aroma of fresh coffee. We sat on a suede coach such like that one from home, but couldn't I have sat on my couch on home for this? "Want some cherry coffee?"

I nodded.

Coming back with two drinks, she sat down next to me, handing me my drink. "I have a present for you." She grinned suspiciously.

From her skirt pocket was a hand-made bracelet. With its odd array of distorted colors, I carefully held it, with only a few beads on the tip of my fingers. I remembered these.

As a child, I grew up in a house of men. My mother died young when I was only three. Carrying only a few memories of her radiant beauty, I'd cry her every once in a while, but when she passed away, I never stopped.

I was only three. I didn't know how to deal with death, but the only person I was always able to cheer me up was Tomoyo.

Only a year before, her father had passed away and she didn't cry as much as me. She was always really good when it came to adapting and coping.

So to help me cope with the lost of my mother, everyday, she smiled at me and made me a bracelet. Distorted, loose, tight, painful, weird. I wore them all despite the small scrapes on my wrist that were found sometimes. Two-hundred-sixty-five bracelets of them were worn. I wore than all.

Holding my wrist in my hand, I reminisced all the good memories. Hovering my hand up my arm, I felt all the old scars and remembered a few bruises. They were all unforgettable.

"Sakura?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, I was just in a daze." Glancing back at her, I asked, "What's with all the special surprises today?"

"What do you mean?" She innocently replied. Of course, there was something going on. I mean, there's no way she would have kept anything from me for too long. With her smile and smirk, she giggled. "I want to show you this new place I bought."

Walking, I had completely no idea where she was dragging me. Looking to my right, looking to my left, I had not found anything familiar. I felt the soft, smooth sidewalk under my sandal and breezy wind through my tangled hair. The smell of coffee and tea a filled the air as we passed by another humble coffee shop, and the sweet scent of the cinnamon buns from a nearby bakery. Around the corner, I heard a gentle melody of acoustic guitar and a woman's voice roaming the territory and pocket change falling into the can that was in front of her. It was a place I really liked.

And finally, we arrived. "Why the hell are we here?" Rusted, green paint-peeled walls covered a small apartment complex with probably only six apartments. Frowning, I asked her again, "What are we doing here?"

Tomoyo shrugged. "This is somewhere, right?"

"What?"

"This is some—"

"I heard you…" I step forward a bit. "It's a little ugly, don't you think?"

She shook her head.

Tomoyo began walk up the rusty, hazardous stairs and I decided to follow her. With a wide smile on her face as her hand glide over the rail. Her hands looked gentle and sweet, hover over tarnished metal and faint paint. Oh, I wish my hands were gentle. Just looking at her hands, I looked at mine. Peeled skin covered the tips of my fingers. My palm, no longer holding the soothing feel of lotion or oil, held a rough sandpaper exterior. Nails were chipped and torn. My hands just hadn't healed.

Reaching the top, she opened the door I first saw on the second floor. New white paint was painted on it recently. It had a certain glaze over it. Then I realized, this was not just a beat-up, old apartment. I should have realized that Tomoyo never has anything ordinary.

Well, the apartment was definitely not ordinary. Inside the room was a marble top counter. Under my feet was a soft dark gray cement tiles and over them were simple wooden chairs and table scatter across the awkwardly wide apartment.

"What's all this, Tomoyo?"

She smiled again. Rolling my eyes, I thought, 'Her jaws going to break if that girl keeps smiling…' "Tomoyo, I'm serious. Where are we?"

"Come on, it's a surprise." Gesturing me toward a door behind the counter, I follow her once again.

The absence of light scared me a bit. That's all I was able to see at least.

Until she turned on the lights. "Surprise!" A roar hollered into my face. Confetti and balloons appear over my head as smile and laughs were at every direction. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Happy eighteen, Sakura." And there she was with her smile.

"Eighteen?"

Grabbing a calendar, Tomoyo pointed to the date. "April first. Why else would I say 'happy eighteen'?"

Wow, I couldn't believe it. It was my birthday. Holding my hands over my mouth, I felt a layer of tears over my eyes. "You guys, I can't… I can't… I mean, I don't know…"

"Well," a friendly voice added, "we've been planning this and you've been feeling really down, but I think you should thank Tomoyo-chan."

"Yeah," Other voice came in, "Tomoyo-chan bought everything!"

Looking over at her rich gleaming face, I should have known.

For awhile, I decided to enjoy myself, forgetting that I was ever hurting inside. Slapping on a sweet smile and inserted my adorable laugh, I decided that sitting on my butt for a month would be horrible.

Every smile that was arced, every glance that was made, and every joke that was told was something I missed. Being blinded by what people call love, I began to see what I was missing out.

The clothes on my back, the sandals under my feet, I should have realized.

By the end of the day, when the sun was down and lampposts made the street gleam and glitter, everyone cleared out of the apartment. Of course, I helped cleaned up helping Tomoyo and a few friends; however, something eerie filled the air.

"Sakura, how are you feeling now?"

"I don't know."

"Come on," – dropping her things – "all this money and no 'Oh my god, you're amazing!' I'm hurt."

Her sarcasm was always interesting and dramatic. "I loved it. I was definitely something I needed."

She rolled her eyes and with no hesitation, I received one hell of a first kiss. "Sorry, all this excitement."

"You know, you're a good kisser."

"I know." By the way, she's never had a boyfriend. "I just wanted to see what a real kiss was like. I just wanted my first kiss to be with the most important person, I know."

"That's… um, great. You're welcome."

Yes, it was my first kiss from a girl. I don't have anything against anything like that, but what can I say? Besides, nothing went beyond that, so don't get agitated or freaked out.

This story isn't about how my ex-boyfriend was a jerk, my birthday or how I had my first lesbian kiss, or a story of romance. This is a story about friendship, about how far someone goes for a friend. Rare, a story about friends, I know, but written here it is.

You just have to know who to trust and who not to trust. But for those your trust who can't be, you have to be able to leave the past where it is and walk. You don't have to run, just walk.

Author's Space

It's a little corny, but I'm just corny in my stories.

Well, funny enough, I don't dedicate this story to any of my friends. I just actually wanted to try something new. Liked it? Hated it? Sorry about all the grammatical errors.

Have a nice day :).