Title: Paper Cuts

Disclaimer::Blows hair out of face: I am not the creator of Card Captor Sakura, merely borrowing the characters and bending them to my will. This piece of fiction is made purely for the enjoyment of writing it and for readers who choose to read it. No money is to be made of it.

Rating: T (13+). This fanfiction is suitable for teenagers, 13 years and older. With some violence, minor coarse language and minor suggestive adult themes.

Warning: This story does have angst at the start. But because I can't stand stories that don't have a happy ending, I can never write one. So, yes, there is angst, but there will also be major sap because I'm weak and I believe fiction should be better than reality. Sue me.

Summary: (SxS One Shot. Happy Ending) It hurts, you know, to watch him with other girls, and act like I don't care.

Author's Note: This little one-shot is very close to my heart. All these feelings and occurrences have happened and are happening to me. Falling in love with your best friend seems to be something that many people have in common. But while our lovebirds have a happy ending in this one, I'm afraid I still don't have mine. But that's okay. I would rather die than never have my best friend in my life. He rocks my stripy knee-high socks.

Paper Cuts

It hurts.

It hurts, you know, to watch him with all those girls, watch him kiss and hang all over them, and act like I don't care. What I mean is, I shouldn't care, right? Because he's my best friend and you don't fall in love with your best friend. I'm pretty sure it's a universal law, or something. But it doesn't stop the pain and jealousy from taking over rational thought.

But then what's so rational about love?

It's the kind of pain that clenches your stomach painfully; sears your chest like a cold fire and makes you forget how to breathe. It makes your eyes sting with tears; your throat tightens and feels like your drowning. No one can save you but him. You don't want anyone to help you but him. It's the kind of pain that if you were unfortunate enough to ever feel it will always stay with you forever.

It's the pain I'm feeling so vividly now, watching him from my seat on the sofa, amidst all the drunken teenagers that are celebrating end of exams at some guy's house, as he makes out with some random cheerleader against the far wall. I know he doesn't care whose watching (He's always been so confident, an admirable trait in perhaps a different situation), not listening to the cat calls of the drunken boys or the giggles of the cheerleaders giddy cookie-cutter friends. Not caring that I can see him.

They still try to eat each other's faces, so close to each other like their trying to climb into each other's bodies. I try not to watch, but I can't help it. It's like the weird fascination you get when you watch a car crash on the television. You don't want to see it but you can't help but watch it to see what's going to happen. So I peak at the two of them from the corner of my eye and wish it was my hand that was running through his wild cinnamon coloured hair instead of hers.

His hair feels like spider's silk. I had run my hands through it when he was asleep at my house one night, when he had an argument with one of his sisters. He was the only guy I know who openly admits that he's close to his sisters. When he does argue with them, he would come over to my house, crawl into bed with me and curl up like a little kitten. So close to me I could smell the faint smell of his cologne, watch the rise and fall with his steady breathing and see the pattern on his cartilage earring.

His hair fell across his face, obscuring the perfect view of his sleeping face. My hand reached up and softly brushed them away from his forehead. They slipped easily through my parted fingers. He never used gel like most of the boys in our school did, and I were forever grateful. It was the best feeling in the world.

I couldn't resist placing a light kiss on his forehead, before pulling the blankets over the both of us and settling my head on the same pillow as his. Our faces were only inches apart and my heart was beating so loudly I was afraid it would wake him up. He looked so innocent, face slack with his hands curled under the pillow and lips parted softly.

My guilty little secret.

I plummet back to Earth as I watch his hand travel up underneath her non-existent tank top as her lips find a path down his neck. I couldn't bear it anymore, my eyes close to shut out the scene before me but I find it burnt onto the insides of my eyelids.

None of the girls know him like I do. None of them could ever hope to love him like I do. All they care about is what he could do for them. Syaoran is classed as a 'bad boy'. He has the whole non-conformist attitude, which has a wild personality that attracts excitement and passion. You got the bad boy who had a soft cuddly side and would never hurt you. Who could resist that?

And how could I possibly compete with the girls he's always running off with? The type of girl whose blond, big chested, killer legs, and wears brand labels that would cost more than my house? I was nothing more than a midget with no cleavage, short hazel coloured hair and wears quirky clothes like quarter length ripped jeans with stripy tights underneath and t-shirts that had funny sayings like 'shit happens'.

See? No contest.

I concentrate my focus on my beer glass in my hand. I don't really like beer but it gave me something to do instead of sitting there like a moron. It's lukewarm from my sweaty hand and I grimace as I take a sip.

I can't take much more of this. I took the coward way out, getting up from the sofa and placing my drink on the table before I head out of the door onto the porch. It's surprisingly cold for the time of the year, but I relish it. It cools my red cheeks and the fire burning in my heart. I lean against the porch railings and look out at the empty street.

"What are you doing out here in the cold?" came a soft voice behind me and I turn round to see Syaoran standing there with his hands in his pockets and a small boyish smile playing across his lips.

I grin at him and lean my back against the railing so I'm facing him instead. "It's too stuffy in there." My grin turned into a confused frown. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were with…" I trailed off as I realized I didn't actually know her name. Not that I cared, but I thought it was a bit weird that I didn't know the name of the girl that my best friend was fooling around with.

He sighs heavily and came to stand next to me, leaning his hip against the railing so he's still facing me. "She was getting too heavy for me. She started talking about dates and making it official. I'm not that stupid to think she would be with me and only me."

I couldn't help but feel happy at this news but I tried to be the sympathetic listener. "Are you alright?"

"Of course I am. My ego is a little bruised though."

I tilt my head in question and a piece of my hair falls into my face and I mock growled at it, pushing it away from my face but failed. It fell back to annoy me. He laughed softly, his own hand coming up to tuck the offending piece of hair behind my ear, lingering perhaps too long before his fingertips slowly traced my ear and down my jaw to drop uselessly to his side. I couldn't help but blush. What was he doing…?

I look away from him; afraid my true feelings were showing on my face. "So, uh…why is your ego bruised?" I asked to distract him.

His smile turned slightly bitter. "She said I was a bad kisser."

She seemed to be enjoying it when he had his tongue down her throat. "She probably said it because she was angry. I'm sure…I'm sure she was lying."

He laughed. "It's sweet of you to try and make me feel better but you can't say that. After all, we have never kissed so you wouldn't know."

I have in my dreams.

He laughed and I realize that I was blushing again. I try to glare at him but it doesn't work so I settle at looking at my converse shoes kicking at the post. They have our writing on them with purple and black marker. Stupid little messages that probably didn't mean anything to him but mean the world to me.

He looks down at me, his six-foot frame towering over my 5'6. I can tell he's still laughing silently without looking at him. I poke him in the stomach and he makes a girly squeak. "Stop laughing at me."

He grabs my hand before I can pull away and squeezes it. "I can't help it, Sakura. You're too adorable."

My breath gets stuck in my throat. It's not that he's never complimented me before, or thought me adorable. It was the tone he used, made the words mean something they never had before.

I was afraid to look up into his face. "Really?" I hated myself for my voice sounding so breathy.

"Yes." He whispered, like he was afraid that if he spoke any louder it would break the spell around us.

He moves so he was standing before me, trapped between his body and the railings behind me. We were so close, our breath mingled and I had nowhere to look but his eyes. I never realized how amber they were.

"What," I asked quietly, "are you doing?"

"I was going to kiss you," he whispered back, "but if you don't want me to I won't."

I lick my lips and try to swallow, my mouth was so dry. Was this really happening?

"I…I want you too."

He hesitates, searching my face for any uncertainty, before he presses his lips to mine. I'm not sure if he knows, but I have only kissed one person before. It was with a guy who was a year above me and we were playing a truth or dare game and I had to kiss him. It was so awkward that I never wanted to kiss again.

The first kiss was soft, closed mouths and incredibly tender. He pulled away to gauge my reaction and I smile faintly at him. This time I lean in. He responds automatically, pressing back harder. I felt his tongue trace my bottom lip and I opened my mouth, letting him in. Not too sure what to do, I move my tongue and tentatively touch his. He sighs and I take that as a sign of approval.

Our hands cradle each other's heads and its perfect. One firm press of the lips and he pulls away, placing small butterfly kisses along my jaw and to the place behind my ear that makes me shiver as I pull him closer.

"You know…" I start as he nipped at my ear playfully.

"Hhmmmm?" he hummed, and it vibrated against my throat.

"She had to be lying."

And now, it doesn't hurt.

…:End:…

I don't know about you, but that never fails to warm my heart when I re-read it. I hope it has the same affect on you guys. Oh! And don't forget to review!