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Love like a Rubik's Cube

"Beginnings"

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A thin boy, eleven years of age, with vacant amber eyes ran through a trail of thick shrubbery. He was trying to catch up to his friends, whom were three years older than him. "Wait! Wait!" he cried, unable to match the same, swift pace of his two friends, Daichi and Kenta. For some odd reason, they were ignoring him after he had given them the rare, expensive baseball cards they'd asked him to obtain about a month ago. "Matte!" he proclaimed, "Why are you guys running away from me?"

He could hear their laughter from afar, and he had no clue why. They had never acted so strange before. Not until he gave them the baseball cards, at least.

When his shoe finally hit a crack in the cement floor, he came crashing down. A small yelp escaped his throat as he felt the sharp pain of his landing. "I-Itai!"

The laughter from afar grew louder. He looked up, only to see the scowls and snickers on his friends' faces. He thought they were just joking around, but they weren't. He watched as his friends disappeared over the horizon. Not once did they turn back to help him up like they should have. They were his friends, shouldn't they have helped him? For a moment there, he felt deceived. "Guys… come back…" he whispered, the tears reaching his eyes.

He had presented them with gifts, and this was how they showed their gratitude, in the opposite way possible. The tears were beginning to slip.

Suddenly, a hand floated out in front of his eyes. The hand was small. Sure as heck it wasn't one of his friends.

He glared up at the perpetrator. "Go away," he gnarled.

Poignant eyes were peering right at him with sincere concern. Shoulder length auburn hair was lightly blowing in the breeze. Then a faint smell of cherry blossoms wafted into his nostrils. Such a feminine odor, it was obviously a girl, he darkly noted.

"You're hurt," she said, bending down to his level to closely examine his injuries. Her eyes were crystal clear up close, like a sea green color. The girl noticed a scraped arm and knee and began to reach out.

Startled, he pushed her back. "I don't need your help!"

"Yes you do," she reiterated. "You're hurt." She was unpacking her little red backpack, pulling out an ashen handkerchief. "I'm sorry," she said. "I only have one handkerchief, so I will use it to wrap around your leg since you need to walk."

"No!" he shouted. "So what if I'm hurt! Why would you care?" He felt like crying, remembering his friends abandoning him. He didn't need a girl to prove how even more pathetic he was by letting her help him like he was a sick, vulnerable puppy. "Please, just leave me alone. I don't even know you."

"I can't," she said. "I'm already here." Strangely, she smiled at him. "Seeing as I'm already here, let me get to know you. Let me help you out because I do care."

He refrained from pushing her back again. Somehow, she rendered him speechless. He silently allowed her to fix up his injury. His chestnut hair was covering his eyes, giving him a partial view as he observed her. She uncapped a water bottle and poured water over his scraped knee. He winced when she padded the area with napkins. She tied the handkerchief around his knee once the area dried up, careful not to make it too tight so that it'd apply a painful pressure, and careful not to make it too loose that it may slip off once he got up.

She did the same with his right forearm. This time she held the napkins to his arm, taking his hand and bringing it up to where she held the napkins. "Here," she demonstrated. "Keep the napkins pressed against your wound. I'm sorry if it's not much." She smiled brightly, pleased that everything was all done.

"Why are you helping me?"

"You're hurt, right?"

"Yes, but –"

"You don't need friends like those."

His eyes widened. Again, he was rendered wordless. Had she been watching all along? Yes, he was hurt. Emotionally and physically, and she saw both sides of it.

A blush came to his cheeks, and he looked away. He felt embarrassed that she had witnessed him being taken advantage of by his so called friends. And worthless scumbags they were. He sniffed. Why was it so hard for him to make friends? Right now, he didn't even have any. Kenta and Daichi had been using him, pretending they were interested in becoming his friends. He was blinded by their kindness, and fell easily into their trap.

He snarled. "I don't need any friends." He felt his heart squeezed just by making this statement. Clearly he was lying. He wanted badly for Daichi, or the spiky hair Kenta, to come back and tell him they were just kidding. Even if it was possible, it'd be a cruel joke that left him injured in the process. "Friends are stupid," he bit out, breathing in harshly.

"Am I stupid?" she asked.

"You're stupid for helping me out when I told you I didn't want your help."

Instead of being insulted, she looked giddy. "Does that mean I'm your friend then?"

"N-No–what?" Shocked, he gaped at her. "Why are you so nice? What are you getting at?" he asked almost angrily. "Do you want expensive Barbie dolls or something? A playhouse for all your little dolls? What do you seriously want from me?"

Her eyes never once blinked. "Nothing," she said softly. "I just want to be your friend."

His gaze turned into that of confusion. She seemed like an honest girl. But in all honesty, he never befriended a girl before. What were they supposed to do? Play kickball in the mud? Trade baseball cards? Urgh! Questions after questions, it didn't need to be this hard! Perhaps she could be his friend; he could change her into a tomboy so they could play around like guys. It didn't sound like a bad idea, the more he thought about it. In addition to that, she had shoulder length hair, which wasn't quite an overly feminine trait.

He grinned slightly; this might work. He was ready to give her his reply.

And the look she sent him showed that she was listening intently.

"Sakura! Sakura!"

The girl jolted to her senses, clambering back up to her feet. "Oh no, it's almost past my curfew! I'm sorry I have to go!"

"Sakura," the boy mumbled, somewhat finding his voice again. "Your name is Sakura?"

She faintly smiled. "Yes."

"Sakura! Sakura!"

"I'm sorry! I'd like to stay longer but my Oniisan is calling me!" She glanced at him briefly, wanting to say more, but instead she chose to skip away.

The boy meekly followed her form as she left, unable to contain the strange, budding feeling forming within his chest. "My name is Syaoran," he whispered, despite the girl not being around anymore. That was what he wanted to say to her. He wanted her to know, so that they could meet again.

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Author's Notes: Hello. I am a regular reader/writer on FFNET. Although, I haven't really found a story that 100 percent matched my taste. So, I wrote one that did. Hoho. It does not mean I am an outstanding writer, it just means I am writing for my own enjoyment, and sharing it with others. :P I hope you guys like it. It always takes me forever to get a chapter out, that's why I always prefer reading over writing. X( Anyways, YES you guys have to review. Hehe. Not really, but I would like feedback. Why else would I publish my story online?

Disclaimer: I do not own CCS