This is just a oneshot that came to be, courtesy of Carter Burwell (a GENIUS. I swear he's truly a God when playing.) I actually wrote this two/three weeks ago, but I've been a bit too busy to upload and post it. It is however here now! I hope you enjoy it. I was trying out a new style so forgive me for any grammar/spelling mistakes ... I also don't have a beta at present. If you're interested, let me know!

Title: Fragile Heart
Chapter Title: Forbidden Fruits Are The Sweetest
Rating: M
Summary: It wasn't meant to be like this. He was getting married tomorrow. And here they were, giving into the passion they'd both held for so long!

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Fragile Heart
Forbidden Fruits are the Sweetest

His gaze was so piercing that she felt as if her very soul would fall apart. He searched her eyes as his hands traced the length of her arms. She shivered involuntarily, but never broke their stare. He was almost addictive, the way he made her hair stand on end, trailing goose bumps and soft fire wherever his skin touched hers.

He was not unaware of this fact either, and as his fingers moved to tickle her hips, she gasped, unable to help herself. There was a fire somewhere within her, burning brighter with every touch, every whisper that fell from his lips. He never ceased to amaze her: she could look at him for hours on end and never get bored. He was her drug.

It wasn't new to her, this reaction; she'd experienced it many times in his company. It never failed to keep her in endless fits of passion afterwards as he left her alone, tears leaking down her porcelain cheeks and onto the floor. He never stayed afterwards, declaring that such an affair would be declared "horrendous" and "scandalising". If he was anything other than sensual, he was concerned about his reputation.

She had been his closest friend for more than a year when it first happened. They were sat beneath a tree at lunch, away from all the others. She couldn't remember what she'd been staring at – Lord knew ten years had passed since then – but she'd felt his gaze burning a hole in her skull.

She'd turned to look at him. His gaze was just as piercing, the first time he'd ever unleashed such an appearance upon her. It was full of emotions she couldn't put a name to, but knew that would never be appreciated by those who'd warned her against being his friend.

His name fell from her lips – God knew what that did to her! And he wasn't even aware of it – and his hand had come up to cup her face. That had been when the fire had first ignited, a small flame burning in her heart until it was almost painful with need. They'd stared at each other for what had seemed like hours, barely a sound but their breathing and the gentle wind rustling.

Something had passed between them, but neither was sure what. There was an inescapable urge that had her leaning forwards unconsciously, until he – aware of what she wanted, and needing the same – met her in the middle. The strange feeling of his lips on hers, coupled with the familiar heat and scent of his aftershave, had her thirsty for more kisses.

He'd pulled away too quickly for her liking, apologising profusely. She had thought he had no reason to apologise. She'd enjoyed it enough, and took every opportunity available over the rest of that hour break to tell him so. He'd simply smiled that boyish grin of his towards her, providing more fuel for the passion within her, and made no move to repeat it.

His hands were at her shoulders now, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the base of her neck. She gasped aloud in surprise, wrapping her arms around his head, fingers wrapping themselves within his thick curls. It was always like this.

His breathless laugh was humourless against her skin as she breathed in his woody scent. It was so familiar; she could spot him in a crowd just by smell alone. Her eyes closed of their own accord as she submitted to his silent demands. Her head lolled backwards, allowing him more access to her throat as one hand grabbed a fistful of her hair, giving it an almost painful yank so he could suck at the skin better.

She sighed, loving the feeling as he ground his lower half against hers almost rhythmically. It sparked such a burning desire in her she was almost ready to explode with her need to have him filling her, dancing with her in the most intimate way possible.

Two years later he'd finally given in to her again. It had, by no means, been planned; he stood in her bedroom, looming over her as she attempted to finish her final piece of homework. One more Maths problem and she'd be free for the rest of her life.

If he'd thought his proximity wasn't at all unsettling, he was wrong. She could feel it with every fibre of her body, and longed to turn her head to stare at his profile, to trace her lips across the strong line of his jaw until she found his lips . . . Her imagination drove her wild. He was all she wanted, and all she would never get. She had resigned herself to this fact long before, despite the teasing from her friends that she had never dated.

God, how she loved him! It had taken her years to figure out, but she'd loved him almost since they first met, five years prior.

His hand clasped over hers as he dragged her pencil a different way to correct her, his breath tickling her ear as he chuckled, shaking his head at her foolish mistakes. To him, I was easy – he had it all. Perfect grades, perfect looks, and every girl falling at his feet . . . Sometimes, it was hard to believe that he was really a mortal and not a god. He'd certainly bewitched her somehow.

She turned quickly as soon as they were done, startling him as the move ended up with her face pressed against his chest. She wound her arms around his waist tightly, holding him so he couldn't pull away. He didn't seem at all bothered: rather the contrary. He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close. She breathed in what she considered uniquely him as he pressed his lips to her scalp.

The action surprised both of them, and she looked up into his smiling face. His eyes danced with humour, and before either of them knew what had happened, she'd stood and secured his lips with hers. Like before, there was a fire that flared up in both. But, unlike before, there was an intensely urgent need as she pushed him backwards, forcing him to collapse on the bed with her straddling his waist.

Their lips were still joined, and tongues intertwined as, for the first time, they gave themselves over fully to their passion . . .

Yes, she remembered their first time well. As he urged down the straps of her top, her mind returned to that day, to the feeling of intensity. That had been the first time she'd thought of telling him she loved him. That had been the first time she learnt what a broken heart had felt like.

He'd lain with her afterwards, stroking patterns on her shoulder with his thumb whilst she slept, but made no move to give himself over to sleep. Instead, he'd watched her peaceful, happy face as it lay on his chest. His free fingers combed through her short hair, feeling the silky softness.

When she woke, not ten minutes later, she had pulled herself off of him. It was the middle of the night, and the moon barely illuminated the room through her large attic window. It was enough light for him to see by as he climbed out of bed, gathering his clothes and putting them on. She had watched him with something close to remorse, thinking that he hated her for taking advantage of his surprise.

She was wrong: he'd come back over once various articles of clothing were back and knelt down beside the bed. He'd spoken in hushed tones as her family were back by this time, but his words had left her emotional. He didn't want to see her in such a manner. He was fine with just being friends. He was going to try and forget about the whole incident, and hope that all future incidents of the same nature could be avoided.

He'd been wrong, for not two nights later as they sat in his front room, it had occurred once more.

His lips now assaulted hers, and she lost herself in the kiss. She missed it when she didn't see him, or when he refused to give into such ministrations. She smiled, in spite of herself. This would probably be the last time she'd ever see him, for he was getting married tomorrow to none other than one of her old friends. And here they were, giving into the passion they'd both held for so long!

Oh, how she craved for him! She curled her legs around his form, oblivious to the tears running down her cheeks. Her fingers travelled down the familiar territory, feeling the hardness of his muscles against her palm, skin to skin. He growled, allowing his hand to catch hers before it could trail lower. He pulled away, panting for air before placing kisses on her collarbone, trailing down to her exposed breasts.

The day the invitation had come was the day her life had fallen apart.

It had seemed like a normal day – she'd woken to the chirping of the stupid radio presenter in her ear at six o'clock, her beloved cat Michi pawing at her arm as he attempted to remind her to feed him. It had seemed ordinary, save for the weather. Somehow, it had decided it was the time to start snowing. It was late December, anyway. Not two nights had passed since Christmas.

The postman had come at his normal time of half past seven, just before she was ready to head out to work. She had taken up a job at his company just two months before, and as his personal secretary no less. It hardly seemed appropriate, but somehow she had managed to keep herself in check whilst in the office. It was when he offered to drive her home or they both stayed after hours that they came to a problem.

She'd barely glanced at the mail, throwing it into the passenger seat as she slid into the car. It was most likely bills anyway, she reasoned. She'd go through them once she got a spare minute at work.

It had seemed ordinary when she pulled up – the occasional reporter in the lobby, snapping shots; the slow lift, taking forever to reach the bottom floor; the horrid receptionist, insulting everyone who got within spitting distance; and last, but not least, the female clinging to his arm. He kept girls for a few months before throwing them away, but no matter what, he always gave into his lust for her.

Not this girl. She didn't realise until she sat at her desk upstairs and flicked through the mail that there was something amiss. She had received a fancy white envelope complete with pink pen spelling out her name and address. Curious, she'd opened it and took out the invitation.

Her life had fallen apart when she saw his name.

The girl downstairs was his fiancée. He'd chosen to settle down with her.

The world as she knew it crumbled around her.

And now, four months later, it was the eve of his wedding night. They lay together for the last time, simply staring at each other. She thought about telling him – she honestly did. But she didn't have the guts to ruin his chance at happiness. She loved him enough to let him go to the person who obviously made him happy.

Except . . . did she? She'd analysed every movement of the engaged couple whenever she was given the chance, and she'd noticed that he smiled in her company, but rarely laughed. His gaze was, half the time, focused upon his fiancée, and the other half upon his secretary, his secret lover. There'd seemed to be a forced tone every time he'd smiled at the blonde eye candy that would, after tomorrow, be his wife. Yet when he'd smiled within the company of the auburn with whom he'd been having a secret affair for years, it had seemed natural and genuine. He laughed often.

She nearly told him. She got as far as opening her mouth in the dark, before chickening out. No, it would be cowardly to tell him right now. She wouldn't, until she heard it uttered from his lips that he didn't want to be married, tell him the truth. She couldn't tell him, no matter how much she wanted to.

It hadn't been planned that, just two months before, they'd end up on their own in a hotel that all the staff of his business was staying in. It had been thought that there'd been enough rooms for one each or – at the very least – enough so that the two twins who worked would have to share a room. The entire hotel had been booked.

It had come about, however, that a high-profile celebrity group had taken five of the rooms, and so they'd been thrust together. Everyone had assumed they were just friends, nothing more or less. How very wrong they'd been! The two had been the last to leave dinner, and so knew the corridors were deserted and everyone else in bed by the time they climbed up the last of the stairs.

It had been almost inevitable, what with the drink they'd consumed, that as soon as the door was locked behind them they'd give in, once more, to the unyielding lust for one another.

Yes, it had been that very night. A mistake, pure and simple, that would change their lives forever. She hadn't wanted to fall pregnant with his child, nor had he wanted her to, but it was inevitable. And now, now that she knew there was a life growing inside of her, she couldn't risk it. She would keep it, whether or not her family – or, more importantly, the father – approved of such a decision. She would have to shut herself off once he was married, she knew so much, and she was prepared to make such a sacrifice. She'd already handed in her resignation – never had he been more surprised! – and nobody had asked questions as to why once she'd told them her brother had offered her a job. A blatant lie, but nobody at the company knew her brother.

He pushed her hair back from her face, revealing her unwavering emerald eyes to their fullest extent. His amber ones were just as fierce as they stared at her. The darkness of night had, fortunately, hidden the tears from his sight, and he had no idea of her true emotions as they raged through her, leaving a tumult of feelings that were so confused in their wake.

Dawn came before the two had chance to sleep, but she didn't bother. His sleep was quiet, peaceful and gentle, and she found herself only falling deeper into the pit she herself had dug. He was beautiful. The sun illuminated lines in his face she'd noticed her smoothened out whilst he slept. His eyelids – a gentle purple, with small bags under his eyes due to all his late nights – fluttered every now and then, though he didn't wake.

Daringly, she traced a finger from the tip of his hair to his jaw, just to give herself one last reason to touch him. After this, there would be none. He would belong to another, and she would never see him again. Her child would never know its father. Perhaps it was better that way, for she doubted he would stay even if she told him. He might ask for the chance to visit his child when it was born, but that would just be painful for mother, father and baby.

His hand shot out suddenly, catching hers as his eyes opened. Without words, he communicated that he should go, that it was for the best. It was his wedding day.

She made no move to stop him as he crawled lethargically out of bed and into his clothes, leaving with nothing more than a parting glance to her. She lay against the pillows, guarding her eyes against the brilliant glare of the sunlight. All she wanted to see was the memory of his eyes, so vividly amber as they smiled at her. It was an old memory, back from the days before they'd begun sleeping together. The days when the only care had been whether homework had been finished ready to be handed in.

She let her tears out again, until she had no reason left to cry. There were just two hours left until the wedding, and she'd be damned if she didn't show! She wouldn't let people know he was her only weakness. She dressed in a blind fury, knowing only that the dress she put on was tight-hugging and scarlet red. She couldn't say if there were any designs, or how long it was, or anything else about her get up as she left the apartment she lived in and made her way towards her car.

She arrived with just minutes to spare, and her breath caught as she saw him standing by the altar. He was so handsome in his tux that she couldn't help but remember the way she'd thought about his appearance earlier. It was impossible to believe it was the same man: the one standing in the church seemed years older than he truly was. His face seemed aged, lined with worry from the years that had passed. He had never looked like that during the nights he'd secretly spent with her.

She shook her head to dispel all thoughts, silently slipping into a seat near the back. She would watch this. She would see him marry another and finally put to rest all misconceptions that he might, somehow, want to spend the rest of his life with her. That he might feel the same way she did.

Somehow, she didn't believe any of those were true. And that was the whole reason she was here.

She didn't have to wait long; the bride, dressed in immaculate white, stepped through not five minutes after the auburn haired woman had arrived. When she looked like this, it was almost possible to see why he wanted to marry the newcomer. He had only known her a year, but he was smiling at her like she was the sun in the sky . . .

Yet at closer inspection, his secret lover could see that the lines hadn't left his face, like they did when he smiled at her, nor did the smile reach his eyes and make them twinkle, as they did with her. Nor did he extend a hand in welcome, as he'd done for her many times. Surely that was the accepted tradition at a wedding? She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears as they threatened to overwhelm her again.

He'd already forgotten about her. He'd forgotten about their secret nights, he'd forgotten about how he felt when he physically completed her. She could see it written in his face. It was that, or he was a good actor – but she was willing to bet her life it was the former.

And why not? He had everything he ever wanted in front of him in the shape of this blonde-haired, sapphire-eyed, size zero model that had finally reached him. He had all he could ever want. He had money, looks and a beautiful wife to hang off his arm, who would probably suck him dry . . .

Why she did what she did next she had no idea. She'd intended to put her ideas at rest. But the sight of him, happy yet miserable at the same time, had her darting up out of her seat as the vows were reached. She ran to the door, wrenching it open, barely able to disguise the sobs that escaped.

She heard his deep voice shouting her name, but ignored it. She felt no pursuit behind her. He had the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She had probably stopped him. It was easy to see the discontent that flitted across her face when she saw the secret lovers together.

His quiet voice behind her startled her. Whirling around on the bench she'd collapsed upon, she stared wordlessly into his concerned face. One of his hands had fallen to her shoulder as he stood there; worry was lacing every turn of his face, and she found herself in a fresh flood of tears at the sight. He waited patiently, wiping each one away, until she had stopped.

She found herself apologising as he sat down next to her. Apologising for breaking that stupid promise they'd made when they were sixteen.

Not four days after the second occurrence of their forbidden relationship, she found herself sat down on his bed, legs curled beneath her. He was sat at his computer in the chair, leaning back on two legs as he examined the certificate school had given him for graduating.

He whistled; the sound was low, and she let out a small grin. It was so unlike him.

'I wanted to talk to you,' he muttered after a few minutes. 'About . . . us.'

The tone in which he'd spoken was not a pleasing one, and, worried, she glanced up from the bed sheets she'd been staring at. There was a gentle blush on her cheeks as she remembered the last time she'd lain on the sheets. He raised an eyebrow at the expression, but chose not to say anything.

'This whole . . . relationship, thing – I'm not even sure what we should call it – is okay by me. But I have a request.' She'd nodded for him to continue. 'This . . . can this just be a . . . casual thing? I mean, I want it as much as you do, but it would seem wrong to your friends and that, and so I thought that we could carry on . . . sleeping together, but that we should make a promise.'

He'd moved from his seat and knelt in front of her on the bed. 'Can we promise that we won't fall in love with one another? And that we won't get mad when the other goes out with someone else. It's fine for me if you have a boyfriend while you're sleeping with me, and I was hoping it would be the same for you?'

Thought had escaped her for a minute. She swallowed, knowing the answer but unable to say it. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

'That's fine,' she heard herself whisper.

How she wished she hadn't made that promise! She'd broken both parts – she'd fallen in love with him (although admittedly before the promise had been made) and she'd gotten mad that he was marrying someone else! She was a terrible friend and a horrible liar . . . and she wasn't the only one who was going to pay the price for it.

He brought that promise back up now, sitting slightly apart so that they didn't touch. She didn't have complaints that she could voice. She just stared at the bottom of the dress she'd got on, feeling the warmth from his hand still resting on her shoulder. She didn't dare move it for fear there would be no more contact afterwards.

They simply sat there in silence until one of the bridesmaids came out to call him back in. With nothing more than a final peck on the lips, he left her sat alone to go back inside to his wife-to-be.

She should have told him. She really should have told him about her child, but instead she let him go before making her way back out to the car park and slipping back behind her wheel. She knew she was shaking, but she didn't care. Instead, she pulled out of the parking area and drove home, caring not about the traffic in front of her.

Kinomoto Sakura had officially had her heart broken by Li Syaoran. And there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.

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I hope you all enjoyed Fragile Heart! Please leave a review ... every time you do, a faerie gains its wings! :D

Tears x