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A Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction
"A Love I Seem To Lose"
By Bloody Priestess
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Summary: Sometimes in a relationship, things become boring, drab and routine. As Eriol browses through the net, one late night, he spots an ad that catches his attention and redirects his affections.
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Author's Notes: Hello~! This story will be AU-ish, for the absence of Clow Cards, although I will try to retain much of the other canon/facts as much as possible.
Warnings:
1) Innuendos. Certain suggestive situations.
2) French phrases/sentences [translations will be in BOLD after the French word; eg. Bonjour! Hello!]. Please pardon my French, literally. I am teaching myself the language. Any correction in this regard, is very much appreciated! Thank you~ :)
Happy reading! Enjoy~
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"I love thee with a love I seemed to lose."
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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I found my girlfriend by her usual spot, staring out of the window to the rain. This place is our favorite lunchtime bistro, located just a couple of blocks from each of the separate universities we were attending.
She promptly put away her laptop and made room for me in the booth we favored. "Oh, hi."
"Hi."
She faintly turns her cheek towards me and I automatically lean over to give her a fleeting kiss.
Once upon a time… this scene plays out rather differently.
Back then, I would draw us away from prying eyes. Rigidly I pull her against me. Ardently I stake my claim on her responsive lips. Glorify the moment I feel her up as she does me. Inevitably, there came the pointed, discreet coughs to break the heated spell.
Things are more sedate now. Exceedingly more sedate now. Those early months of discovering what the platonic sort of friendship disallowed, had been deliciously thrilling for us. However, after that there was almost nothing else to discover.
"I hope you don't mind but I've ordered The Usual for you. Sloppy Joe sandwich—onion on the side and a big glass of iced Earl Gray tea with a slice of lemon. For a dessert mint sorbet, as you like it, will be served later than the entrées."
I know she knows that come rain, hail, hell and high water I need a mint sorbet after lunch.
"Thank you, Tomoyo. Uncannily accurate." I took my customary seat beside her. "How was your morning?" I asked routinely.
"Fine. Finally passed that analytical essay on Lace: Hand-made opposed to Machine-made. Met Mr. Barton from the Society of Dyers and Colourists, and avoided the mini skirmishes in the sewing lab." She recites. And with almost like an afterthought she added politely. "And how was your morning?"
"Read about taxes, learned about taxes, discussed about taxes and debated about taxes. For this Business major with dreams of becoming a lawyer, same daily grid with a different intensity."
"C'est la vie." That's life. She intones wistfully in perfect French.
It has always been her dream to apprentice in a top fashion house in Paris after graduation next year. And she has prepared intensively with weekly lessons en François since the 7th grade. "Bien." Good.
"Je ne parle pas très bien français." I don't speak French that well.
"Non, c'est parfait." No, it is perfect. "If you wish, let us have our entire conversation in French until the other arrive. Would you like to practice? It's been a while since I practiced my French." I say en François.
"Thank you, but no." Switching back to our native tongue, she says neutrally. "We've had this discussion before. I will never be as good as you, Eriol. You've had a lifetime's worth of personal experience with the language. I've had a few years worth of book and simulated experience. I study it, you live it."
Previous experience told me to shut it. I'd insist no more about the fact that her embarrassment is unwarranted. Or of the fact, she could pass for a longtime French resident with her excellent speaking and writing proficiency. Knowing her well enough, I change the subject.
"Li and Kinomoto are running late, I see." It is practically tradition that the pair joins us for lunch during Thursdays when their class schedule permits a relatively lengthy lunch break.
"Yes."
"Surely, it must be the rain."
Li Syaoran and her cousin were inseparable as they've always been ever since hooking up back in our freshman year in high school.
As for Tomoyo and I, we've been friends for years but we officially became a couple in the summer of our college sophomore year. The new tier of relationship came easily as we were already life-long friends. We had almost identical backgrounds, we came from a relatively well-to-do background, moved around the same social circles, and lived almost identical lives because we grew up together.
As of now, we've just about ran out of topics to discuss.
"Cabs will be scarce in this weather."
Just about. Bloody hell, we're talking about the weather. "Indeed."
Outside, the rain continues to pour. "They'd most likely drenched." She observes.
"Not unless Li brought another umbrella instead of insisting they share."
Tomoyo smiles wistfully, I think. I could safely guess that she was thinking of Li's never-ending machinations to cozy up to her cousin.
I smile back, indicating my understanding of the reason behind that smile.
Our conversation decelerated, stalled and clashed.
Mercifully, the waitress arrives with a tray full of food orders from other tables.
"Sloppy Joe?" She asks, none too certain.
I nod helpfully. "Joe, and Earl Gray~ here, please. And for later, a mint sorbet." I drape a white table napkin over Tomoyo's lap, and recite her standard rainy-day lunch order. "My girl has that grilled tuna sandwich with honey mustard on rye bread and water with no ice. For dessert, she will have a cup of warm sweetened milk with a dash of cinnamon."
"Thank you, Eriol. Uncannily accurate."
A moment of silence descends as we thank the heavens for the meal. I politely smile at her and began eating my lunch.
And the silence stretched.
The optimist would note that Tomoyo and I were eating in companionable silence. However, there is two sides to everything. Negative with the positive.
Where has it all gone? I still feel love for this girl. But somehow… Bloody hell. I don't want to put any of this down in words...
~…~
With a strip of a pale blue satin ribbon between pages of 396 and 397, I set aside my copy of Tax Law in Japan, and type in a brisk pace:
"Individual income taxes of Japan consist of national income tax and local inhabitant tax. In addition, those individuals who are operating certain specified businesses of their own at fixed places in Japan are liable for enterprise tax assessable by prefectural governments."
I close my eyes for a moment, summoning the lessons to mind, before resuming typing on my laptop keyboard. "According to the Income Tax Law of Japan, there are the following categories of individual taxpayers: (1) Resident, who has a JUSHO (Domicile) in Japan, or has had a KYOSHO (Residence) in Japan for one year or more. (1.a) Non-permanent resident: resident of less than 5 years or less. (1.b) Permanent resident: a resident other than a non-permanent resident. Therefore, an individual who intends to reside in Japan permanently, or has been domiciled or resident in Japan for…er. Bollocks."
"Blooming eejit." I mutter to myself as I reach for the Tax Law in Japan book. "You just read this, Hiiragizawa!" The book seemingly brassed off by the insult, slips out just out of my reach, and somersault unto the floor. "Smashing, just bloody smashing. To be zonked when I'm about to throw a wobbler."
Bloody hell. Brit slang has emerged from its dormant state. A sure sign you need a break, Hiiragizawa.
The clock on the work desk read: 02:50 am. I mechanically ran the figures in my head. That is close to four solid hours of uninterrupted reading, analyzing, organizing and typing. The bleeding activity has finally taken its toll.
I save my work progress before opening a web browser. I decide to surf what's new in the cinema scene. I access my account in an internet movie database. Minutes passes quickly, a typical occurrence whenever one is having fun. I was about to log out when an ad caught my eye.
It was related to an old favorite Hitchcock film.
I click the ad, and saw a black, gray and white charcoal sketch of a scene in Notorious. In the sketch called "Sip slowly, Alicia", a young woman is shown drinking a cup of coffee while shadows look on. And the striking artwork was for sale.
The image is also the artists' profile picture, I notice. Clicking the image for a closer look, I end up in the profile page of a fellow internet movie database member and artist of Sip slowly, Alicia. The page belongs to Madison Taylor from the greater Tokyo-area, and she wrote:
"If you like sinister movies. Getting caught in the rain.
If you sleep all through math time. If you hate to party and entertain.
If like longs walks late at night, in the mists with a date.
Then I'm the love you're looking for, write to me and escape.
I smile despite myself. This girl got some nerve posting something like this on profile page. She's definitely not afraid of a little fun. Madison Taylor struck me as a Hitchcock heroine in the flesh. Without any further ado, I hit the message button and began to type. My response read:
Eli Moon, greater Tokyo-area, wrote:
"Yes, I like sinister movies. I also, go dancing in the rain.
I'm not much for napping, rather be passing notes. I am sick of champagne though.
I've got to met you by eight tomorrow night.
And cut to the chase.
At a pub in Clow Road called Cerberus, where we'll plan our escape."
Feeling extremely good about the anticipated rendezvous, I log out, turn off the computer then the lights, and head for bed. Sleep occurs almost instantly.
~…~
Although I never got a response from Madison, I enter the Cerberus at around eight fifteen Friday evening and took the stool in the far end of the bar with high hopes that she would show.
All afternoon, I preoccupied myself with surfing through Madison Taylor's other artwork via the internet browser of my phone. The idea of Madison Taylor as cool, icy blonde Hitchcock heroine in the flesh grew stronger as I waited. It was boldly evident in her art.
It is intriguing to know so much about you and yet know nothing about you.
Her scanned artworks were the only photos in her account, I noticed. She did not post any personal photo, which intrigued me more. I was hunched over the phone screen, admiring another Madison work, a The Godfather inspired work entitled "Fare well, Kay" done in different shades of blue acrylic paint, when the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
The distinctive sound of feminine footfalls on wooden floor stopped a little behind me. I decide to bid my time and curb the impulse introduce myself straight away. I deduce woman had just taken the empty table, judging from scraping sound of wooden chair legs on wooden floor boards.
"Hot café latte for me," I hear her call out in a soft and cool voice to the barista, "Make it a decaf, darling."
The sense of anticipation I'd been feeling for the past hour transmutes into a lower-body tightening flash of pleasure at her sultry pronunciation of Darling. She seems and sound fantastic.
"Coming right up. The menu is already on the table, babe." The barista call back.
Calculating the moment she would be preoccupied with the open menu, I partially turn.
In the corner of my eye, the barista set a steaming cup of coffee on the bar counter beside me.
It's her. It all fits. The artwork, the profile... This is Madison Taylor, I am certain of it.
I simply knew it is she I have been waiting for in very instant she smiled (although not up to me).
I pick up her order, walk over and stood beside her. I coughed meaningfully.
Still intently engrossed peering past her menu to the front door, she did not even glance my way. "Thank you, darling."
I gently set the steaming cup of coffee in front of her, lean close and whisper in my most deliberately debonair manner. "Sip slowly, Alicia."
Her eyes slowly raise to meet mine. At the contact, Tomoyo blinked owlishly.
My eyes absorbed the way she looked. As usual she was dressed to the nines as expected. Although I've seen her once before in the simply styled steel-gray dress she wore now, there was something utterly unfamiliar about her. As usual her voice was soft and cool, but there was an edge I never knew.
"Oh, it's you."
In a typical English self-deprecating manner, I said. "I'm pleased to find myself cheating on you for you."
Her dark eyes gleamed. Joy and relief was evident in her tone as she said. "I am similarly pleased. Immeasurably, pleased because it's you."
I thank you— God, fates, destiny, who or whatever that brought me here.
Tomoyo took my arm and pull me over to the vacant seat beside her.
"Tell me about your favorite 'sinister' movies."
And I told her. Hannibal Lecter, Humphrey Bogart. Hitchcock, Alfred.
Her laughter came unbidden, unbridled. "… same. Plus, Film noir, The Godfather and The Goodfellas."
"Gangster films? Who knew you're a little badass."
"You should talk, Eli. 'Rather be passing notes'."
I could feel the corners of my mouth tighten to a flat line.
And she surprised me by playfully pinching my cheek. "You mischievous boy, all this time I thought you were diligently making lesson-related notes in math class! Please, you cannot withhold information now... Do tell."
"This story does not have a good ending, I'm afraid. Never got the opportunity to send them."
A sigh escape Tomoyo's lips. "Oh. The poor, unfortunate would-be recipient. I'm sure your notes would have been a entertaining to read. Your wit never fails put my sides in stitches!"
And I always thought, Tomoyo merely tolerated my jokes. In the past, she's always so composed upon hearing my punchline... "Can still rectify the situation."
"Ugh, you little tormentor! You said this story does not have a good ending."
"You're welcome to read them."
Tomoyo nearly choked on her coffee. Hell, I even surprised myself for simply suggesting breaking the law. "No, I couldn't possibly."
"Yes, you can."
"It's against the law to read someone else's mail!"
I did not take my eyes off hers. "Not unless they're meant for you. They were… are for you."
She says nothing as she studies me closely. Tomoyo seem unsure of what was going to happen next. The tension in the air was rapidly turning electric.
I was reaching for her before I knew what I was doing. She lift her face but before she could say anything, my mouth was heavy on hers, our bodies barely touching and untouching with every minute move.
I felt the scrape of her lashes as she closed her eyes and her hands as they glide slide past and around my shoulders. My fingers moved and flexed gently on the curve of her hips. She sighed, her lips skimming the line of my jaw. And then slowly, reluctantly, she pulled away to look up at me.
"We ought to stop, Eriol. This is not the right place."
For her ears alone, I whisper. "Glad you don't think this is not right time."
Adamant, she says. "We get to know each other first, Eriol."
"All over again. Yes, I agree." Following her earlier example, I slowly and reluctantly pull away.
"I am aware of that you've grown sick of champagne." She added, "However, I wish to celebrate. Perhaps you'd make an exception?"
"I have a better idea. It's rather late now… and although rain has stopped, I can safely forecast it's misty still outside... Just the way you like it." With all the gentlemanly pageantry, I got to my feet, extend my hand before her and ask, "Tomoyo, would you honor me by consenting to walk the mists with me?"
Almost repentantly, she utters one of the most powerful words in the world. "No."
I did not expect that answer... I, myself would not, wish that devastating word on my enemy. This is too cruel.
People say that in the instance a man is about to lose everything. The most significant thing in his life is blatantly revealed. I never knew the true and deep extent of my love for my girl friend.
I am at a loss for words. And Tomoyo, she must have sensed my gloom, gets up and gently, comfortingly touches the sleeve of my shirt.
"No. If it was someone else, Eriol. However, " She slips her hand onto mine. "You're the love I've looked for. Apparently, you've always been, Eriol. Of course, I'd come with you and escape."
I raise my eyes heavenwards and narrowed them menacingly.
Tomoyo drops her calling card on the bar counter. "Darling," she addresses to the barista, "I am starting a tab. Put his on mine as well."
Just imagine, I say to myself, a lady paying for the gentleman's tab. All these years, and I learn of it... just now. A surprise-filled evening, indeed.
We were not a full minute out the door when Tomoyo's closed fist came in contact with my shoulder, "Eriol!"
I immediately withdrew my hand from the curve of her derriere and clutch the side of her hip instead.
"This not the right place!" She dares, but the lady within remains.
With a smile in place, I am reminded again. "I have told you lately that I love you?"
Tomoyo raises an eyebrow at me.
She can do that?
Unimpressed with my attempt at a quip, she says. "You ... can try again."
I am left wanting more.
Tomoyo walks on ahead, most likely to hide that a smile threatens to crack on her face.
And this time... I am most likely never to forget. Because, all the signs indicate I will not run out of something new to discover anytime soon from the love I thought I lost.
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The End.
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Work cited:
Yokoyama, Akira."Taxation in Japan".
Playlist:
1) Harder to Breathe (Maroon 5 and a Casey Abrams version)
2) When I Get You Alone (Glee ~ Darren Criss)
3) She's Not There (Glee ~ Corey Monteith)
Author's Notes: My initial inspiration was the "Escape (The Piña Colada Song)" by Rupert Holmes. Blame the lovely, hilarious films of: The Sweetest Thing and Shrek! :))
My special thanks and shout out to iceblueyes for patiently listening and obligingly answering my questions about the life of a Business Major.
How were the puns? Did you get 'em all? (wink)
REVIEW, I really want to know what you think. Any other comments, questions, suggestions, clarifications you'd like to share? How about: what needs improvement, or areas that looking into (i.e. spelling, missing word, sudden shift of ideas, continuity, and the like).
Oh, yeah~ Please, don't forget to log-in or leave your email address in your review (So that, I can make a reply/answer your questions!). Let's be friends!
All the best! XOXO's from, Bloody Priestess.
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