Never Meant To Be
by Ukyou
www.clownet.com
www.ukyo.cjb.net
Syaoran walked amongst the grassy fields behind his home, a shallow creek cutting through it like a snake, winding endlessly through the landscape. The sky was cloudy, as if someone had faded away the bluish sky in order to view it in a new prespective. His hand ran against the grass, his camera by his side pressed against the notepad and pencil he held within the same hand.
There was a tree in the foreground, amidst the light drizzle of summer rain. The rain had left small drops of water upon the swaying grass, the melody of lute echoing through the air as the grass swifted from side to side. It was quite tall, up to Syaoran's waist, and it seemed to go on for miles. The tree fogged into view as he neared it, his eyes squinted as to see what was ahead of him.
'This must have been the place.' he thought to himself, the sweet piano tune haunting him as he lifted his camera to take a photograph. He could remember what had occured in this field, his hands gripping his camera tightly, shaking from the occurance of so many specters. It was dramatically striking to him that his memories would have caught up to him, as the grass seemed to grow shorter. The tree sprouted leaves, Sakura appearing below the tree.
He knew it must have been a dream, but what he saw then was a total recreation of what had remained within him for so long. It was the day he had finally parted with Sakura, possibly the only one he could ever admit to truly loving, and he was a slave to that day now, reliving it while only allowing himself limited view of the camera lens.
He then saw Sakura walking turning and walking towards him, and he lowered his camera to see her. She was angellic in the impression her image gave him. She walked towards him with the step of a dancer, her hair weaving with the wind. He could not reach to her, however, nor did he have the courage to speak. His words were held back from deep within him, his very soul bubbling at her sight.
He longed to say something to her though, but stayed silent. The silence however, it was his confinement, something he resented.
...but then he got the courage to yell out her name, just once...but silenced in a matter. She could not hear him...instead, she disappeared from sight completly, leaving Syaoran all alone in the desolate field.
'...dammit...'
...and then Syaoran found himself jumping himself awake in his bed. The clock by him blinked with all 11's, the light swinging above his head. He had obviously had another nightmare, one part of a long series of nightmares.
Sakura...her face still etched into his mind, his futile attempts written in blood upon his thoughts, clouded forever by these dreams. He got out of bed, walking into the bathroom where he twisted the knobs to take a shower. It usually took some time for some hot water to come out, so he walked into his living room, which was mostly empty. The closet he now used as a darkroom for his photographs, the dining room table covered in various papers, ranging from literary works of his own to his usual studies at his college. There was a door that led out to the balcony, one that he had never set foot upon, and out his 2nd story room, he could see nothing more than the restaurant across the street.
It was never a life he wanted. He longed for a companion, but never was able to get one. His apartment seemed more like a workplace than his own private abode.
The life of a photographer was hard, and he usually worked freelance...or just took pictures completly out of his own time. Other times, he would write, something he found that would supress his heavy feelings.
Syaoran could soon feel the steam comming from inside the bathroom, and he walked to the shower.
---
The time after shower and before classes were always a time alone with a cup of tea. The kettle would boil over the gas stove, and he would lounge on his couch, waiting for the distinctive whistle from the kitchen.
It had been well over ten years since Syaoran had last seen Sakura. He knew that their relationship would eventually have to end, as he was to return to China soon after the clow cards were all captured and sealed. He told her that it would have to end, before they would have to be forced to live an empty long-distance relationship, almost as promising as it was now. There was no such thing between the two, and he knew that.
He had been all alone since then, moving back to Tokyo to continue his education, but he had returned an outcast, a mere flicker of what he had once been. He was broken down, his camera his only window to the world. His writing was his way to communicate with it as well, but it was mostly ignored by others, unwilling to read his writings.
Yes, it was a dreary life he led, but it was his life. It was the only life he was to have.
...but something inside of him longed for something more. Something much, much more.
How could Sakura react...as to seeing him now...
He could only imagine, but wasn't sure if he could handle her expression at all, her reaction to seeing his face. Would she be the one to walk away this time?
...but there was no more time to think. The whistle had gone off in the kitchen, and Syaoran went to enjoy a cup of tea.
No time for reminiscence, unless for a few precious minutes filled with it.
~cont
by Ukyou
www.clownet.com
www.ukyo.cjb.net
Syaoran walked amongst the grassy fields behind his home, a shallow creek cutting through it like a snake, winding endlessly through the landscape. The sky was cloudy, as if someone had faded away the bluish sky in order to view it in a new prespective. His hand ran against the grass, his camera by his side pressed against the notepad and pencil he held within the same hand.
There was a tree in the foreground, amidst the light drizzle of summer rain. The rain had left small drops of water upon the swaying grass, the melody of lute echoing through the air as the grass swifted from side to side. It was quite tall, up to Syaoran's waist, and it seemed to go on for miles. The tree fogged into view as he neared it, his eyes squinted as to see what was ahead of him.
'This must have been the place.' he thought to himself, the sweet piano tune haunting him as he lifted his camera to take a photograph. He could remember what had occured in this field, his hands gripping his camera tightly, shaking from the occurance of so many specters. It was dramatically striking to him that his memories would have caught up to him, as the grass seemed to grow shorter. The tree sprouted leaves, Sakura appearing below the tree.
He knew it must have been a dream, but what he saw then was a total recreation of what had remained within him for so long. It was the day he had finally parted with Sakura, possibly the only one he could ever admit to truly loving, and he was a slave to that day now, reliving it while only allowing himself limited view of the camera lens.
He then saw Sakura walking turning and walking towards him, and he lowered his camera to see her. She was angellic in the impression her image gave him. She walked towards him with the step of a dancer, her hair weaving with the wind. He could not reach to her, however, nor did he have the courage to speak. His words were held back from deep within him, his very soul bubbling at her sight.
He longed to say something to her though, but stayed silent. The silence however, it was his confinement, something he resented.
...but then he got the courage to yell out her name, just once...but silenced in a matter. She could not hear him...instead, she disappeared from sight completly, leaving Syaoran all alone in the desolate field.
'...dammit...'
...and then Syaoran found himself jumping himself awake in his bed. The clock by him blinked with all 11's, the light swinging above his head. He had obviously had another nightmare, one part of a long series of nightmares.
Sakura...her face still etched into his mind, his futile attempts written in blood upon his thoughts, clouded forever by these dreams. He got out of bed, walking into the bathroom where he twisted the knobs to take a shower. It usually took some time for some hot water to come out, so he walked into his living room, which was mostly empty. The closet he now used as a darkroom for his photographs, the dining room table covered in various papers, ranging from literary works of his own to his usual studies at his college. There was a door that led out to the balcony, one that he had never set foot upon, and out his 2nd story room, he could see nothing more than the restaurant across the street.
It was never a life he wanted. He longed for a companion, but never was able to get one. His apartment seemed more like a workplace than his own private abode.
The life of a photographer was hard, and he usually worked freelance...or just took pictures completly out of his own time. Other times, he would write, something he found that would supress his heavy feelings.
Syaoran could soon feel the steam comming from inside the bathroom, and he walked to the shower.
---
The time after shower and before classes were always a time alone with a cup of tea. The kettle would boil over the gas stove, and he would lounge on his couch, waiting for the distinctive whistle from the kitchen.
It had been well over ten years since Syaoran had last seen Sakura. He knew that their relationship would eventually have to end, as he was to return to China soon after the clow cards were all captured and sealed. He told her that it would have to end, before they would have to be forced to live an empty long-distance relationship, almost as promising as it was now. There was no such thing between the two, and he knew that.
He had been all alone since then, moving back to Tokyo to continue his education, but he had returned an outcast, a mere flicker of what he had once been. He was broken down, his camera his only window to the world. His writing was his way to communicate with it as well, but it was mostly ignored by others, unwilling to read his writings.
Yes, it was a dreary life he led, but it was his life. It was the only life he was to have.
...but something inside of him longed for something more. Something much, much more.
How could Sakura react...as to seeing him now...
He could only imagine, but wasn't sure if he could handle her expression at all, her reaction to seeing his face. Would she be the one to walk away this time?
...but there was no more time to think. The whistle had gone off in the kitchen, and Syaoran went to enjoy a cup of tea.
No time for reminiscence, unless for a few precious minutes filled with it.
~cont