Moonlit Tears
Summary:He told her as he left that some scars would never heal. And some were simply never meant to. SxS
Disclaimer:The word is there. You know what it means.
A/N:The story changed dramatically from what I meant it to be. Hence the major mood change from start to finish. Blame my fingers. They don't tell me what's going on until I see it on the screen in front of me. On the bright side, I wrote two fics in the span of a couple days. Definitely a new record for me.
P.S. You're not going to get much out of this if you skim it really fast. Just saying…
There was something irresistible in the way she moved in the moonlight. Something dark and mysterious in the swing of her hip, the toss of her hair. There was something positively amazing in the way she never failed to look gorgeous no matter what she was wearing or what face she put on.
He loved her for that.
She was careful.
She was kind.
She was brilliant
She was blind.
She'd never see the way he looked at her.
She laughed with her friends during the day, a melodious sound piercing even the most remote areas of his soul and making him tingle all over in ill-suppressed happiness at hearing her happiness. Her smile lit the darkest edges of his world, carefully unfolding the crinkled edges just so she could shine on them. She was carefree and happy. Her brilliant emerald eyes lit with joy that he knew only with her.
He loved her during those times.
At nighttime though, she became someone different. She became the sort of person who'd go for moonlit strolls. She would sit on the old, worn swings in Penguin Park and reminisce on old times. She'd remember with a heavy, leaden heart people she loved and used to know. The mask would crack and the persona would fade. Then she'd just be plain old Sakura.
He'd watch her during those times and love her even more.
Sometimes he'd appear to her. He would stand from afar, not speaking, only watching her form. Being there was enough. She never registered his presence. She was too lost in her memories to see the ever-protective figure hovering close by.
During those nighttimes, she was never afraid of baring her soul to the dark and slumbering world. The side nobody saw during the day. The side that nobody knew but him. He cherished the thought that it was his alone to protect. He loved the idea that some part of her needed protecting and that he alone could give that protection. It made him feel useful to her. Not that she'd ever know.
She cried on some of those nights. Those were the bad nights. The nights he wanted more than anything to reach out and touch her. To comfort her and hold her until all her troubles simply melted away and all that was left was them. A man and a woman. Nothing more and nothing less.
But he couldn't. What would she think if a man who was a stranger to her, walked up to her and held her? He wasn't the boy she remembered. He had changed. And she had too.
He loved her anyway.
One of those times, Tomoyo came by.
He nearly cried out that somebody had trespassed on what he thought to be 'their' sacred time, but was glad someone was finally there to wipe the tears away since he couldn't.
Tomoyo stood there for a while, comforting Sakura, seeing for perhaps the first time, what she had never seen during the day. She only just seemed to recognize that there was someone else there. But her eyes retained that vacant look that told them both that her mind was still far off, lost in memories. It was all he could do to watch.
As time went by, more and more Tomoyo dropped by to be there, to offer comfort and support.
Occasionally, Eriol came with her, but for the most part it was just Tomoyo.
Both of them tried to console Sakura. But what did they know of heartbreak? She suffered because he wouldn't go back to her,couldn't go back to her. He suffered because he was so close, but couldn't bridge the gap of what had changed between them. Neither of them had ever suffered that much. After all, they still had each other.
But they tried to understand anyway. And he silently thanked God for those small things. The things that barely (just barely) kept the world on its axis, but kept it there all the same.
Once, he thought Tomoyo had seen him. Her eyes widened slightly, but then, just as quickly, her attentions returned to Sakura. If she did know (as she seemed to), she would think him a fool for allowing her to suffer all alone, night after night when he was there within her reach. Unlike Eriol, she wouldn't understand how much he suffered too. He silently marveled at his cousin's hidden wisdom, but didn't dwell long on the subject. His thoughts drifted back to Sakura as they always did. He knew if they tried to come together again, it would only end in more heartbreak and more tears. It was easier this way. For the both of them.
He hated seeing her tears. They glistened under the moonlight's soft caress. They weren't gasping, pained tears. They were quiet, regal, befitting of her. But the fact that she wouldn't make a noise bothered him almost as much as the tears themselves. She wouldn't allow herself to grieve like he knew she needed to. Like Tomoyo and Eriol and all their old friends knew she needed. She needed desperately to grieve, but thought herself to strong to allow it or else was still in denial. Either way it wasn't healthy.
Months passed. Seasons changed. Winter came. Still, she stubbornly came to the swings every night, not allowing herself to grieve properly, but not letting go of what they used to be either. He often worried during those nights that she'd catch a cold. Luckily, she never did. Probably because all her ill luck was already spent on relationships, namely, theirs.
He found himself frustrated. The day he left her was hard on them both. There were silent tears on his end, pleas for him to stay on hers. But he had to go. They both knew that. And still she wouldn't forget him and move on. She needed to. He didn't want her to forget him, but for her sake, she needed to.
Eriol came by once, on his own. It was the first and only time he made an appearance to that moonlit park without Tomoyo. He talked to her in a soft voice as Syaoran himself yearned to do. He quietly asked Sakura to let go of him. No one needed to ask who he was. They all knew.
He could have hit Eriol. He could have cried. He could have screamed that he didn't want her to let go. Didn't want her to forget him. His mind already knew what his heart refused to accept, that she had to let go, for her sake. And he had to let her. After all, he left her, not the other way around.
She refused Eriol. Quietly, but politely. His heart leapt for joy while his mind screamed 'NO!'. She told Eriol that there would be no other like him. Eriol said he understood. He had hoped not to, but he did. He told her as he left that some scars would never heal. And some were simply never meant to. She got the message.
She quietly thanked him, then let him slip away.
Syaoran wanted desperately to both rip his hair out in frustration and fall to the ground weeping in silent joy.
More months. September 17th, 2008. A year from the day he left her. He could almost not bear it. The pain she continued to endure for him.
And still she would not grieve.
That night, Tomoyo came, a single rose in hand.
"You know," she began, searching for the right words to say, "Letting go a little is not the same as saying good-bye. It's just a slight reprieve from each other. Until you find each other again."
Sakura stared at her, seeing her for perhaps the first time in all those nights. With a silent, small smile, Tomoyo offered her her hand.
"Come on. He's waiting."
Together, the two walked slowly to the last place she'd seen him. The last place she'd touched him. The last place they'd been in each other's arms.
He followed silently, staying far enough behind that he was out of sight, but close enough that he could still watch.
They came to a stop. Quietly, Tomoyo placed the rose down, then moved away to allow Sakura her space.
Sakura stared for a moment, emotions flickering through her eyes like an old Charlie Chaplin movie. Finally, one won out over the rest. The one that had threatened to overtake her many times but was never able to until now. Her knees bucked as her hands reached up to cover her face.
Beneath the moonlight, once more tears came, but this time, they wracked her body, spilling over and through her hands onto the rough stone beneath her feet. Loud sobs came as she finally succumbed to the grief she'd suppressed for a year now.
Under that cold, unflinching moonlight, the words stood out clearer than ever:
Syaoran Li
July 13th 1987- September 17th 2007
Brother, Friend, Lover
...
A/N:coughs Sorry about the angst? I know this sounds really twisted, but I was in a really good mood so I wrote this. Sorry, sorry, sorry…. I'll go write some fluff or something later to make up for this.