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Point to Love
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Part One
The Unspoken Forgiveness
The steady beeping of the machines had become his only companion in the night. Darkness had fallen long ago; he hadn't noticed the overwhelming black but welcomed it. It allowed him to become blind to the things he didn't want to see; it allowed him to brush them away, laugh them off as a ridiculous sight his mind had made and brought forth to the forefront of his mind. It allowed him a time for reflection as he tightly gripped that pale, lifeless hand in his own, cool and smooth, flawless and still. It scared the life out of him.
Though he couldn't see, he could feel. He could feel the roughness of the blankets beneath his hands; he could feel the stifling pressure and presence of hovering death. He could feel the pressure on the lungs of the one in front of him as they fought to breathe; he felt the pain as if it were his own. It was the worst feeling in the world, knowing that they were going through the same pain, only a thousand times worst, hovering on the thin line between the black abyss of death and brilliance that was the world of living.
'Please,' he begged; his voice was almost a croak; it had been so long since he'd spoken at all, instead choosing to sit silently at the bedside waiting and hoping and begging. He didn't want to move his hands from the limp one to wipe away his tears; they slid down his cheeks unbidden, splashing onto the pale skin beneath him. 'You promised me you wouldn't do this to me, now or ever.' Unthinkingly, he tightened his hold on the fragile hand, bending his hand down to lean against the harsh bed sheets. 'Keep your promise. Please keep your promise to me.'
The heart rate remained discouragingly the same; there was no change in response, no indication the promise would be kept or whether it would be broken. He didn't dare look up again, to see that still face, those closed, pale eyelids and know that there may be a chance they'd never open again. The very idea made fresh tears seep from his eyes, and he shook his head to try and clear such negative thoughts. She would pull through this, no matter what happened. He had to believe in her and her strong will. There was no way she would let herself die – none at all. She had everything a girl could ever want to live for.
'Please,' he begged again, bringing her hand up to his cheek. 'Don't die on me; you promised you'd stay with me, no matter what happens. You promised you wouldn't die on me, no matter what happened, until we were both old and greying!' He let out a small laugh on impulse at the mere sound of that. 'So please, please, remember what you promised me all those months ago!' He closed his eyes, fighting back more tears and sadness. No more; he didn't want to cry anymore, no matter how painful this may be.
It wasn't long until the sounds of the machines lured him into a fitful sleep at the bedside, still holding that pale hand in his own as if trying to wish life back into it. When he came to again, light was creeping in through the curtains closed across the windows. Ignoring the bleariness, he looked up to her face, noting the ever so subtle differenced that had occurred overnight: her cheeks had regained some colour, and her breathing had evened out slightly, seeming to become easier.
'Hey,' he called, sleep clinging to his voice. Her eyelids fluttered gently, as if able to hear him but not able to open her eyes. Her hand was still limp in his, and seemed to show every indication of staying that way. He squeezed the fingers he held lightly, adjusting himself so he could sweep a strand of hair from her eyes. 'You kept your promise.' There was no doubting the relief in his voice as he slumped back into his seat, releasing his hold slightly on her cool skin. 'Thank goodness. I was worried back there for a bit.' He smiled softly at her closed lids.
What scared him now was the fact she remained resolutely silent, eyes closed and breathing intermittently laborious. But he trusted the woman in front of him; quietly he watched as doctors fussed over her and nurses changed her medications as necessary. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, emerald eyelids fluttered open unseeingly and blinked several times before settling without recognition on the blank, high ceilings of the hospital room she lay looking up at.
'I'm here,' he called softly, straightening the crick in his neck as he sat forward, smiling at her. 'I'm here, Sakura.' He squeezed her fingers lightly, and she turned her head wearily to him. A tiny smile graced her features as she tried to adjust her body accordingly; she ended up wincing, and he immediately jumped out of his seat to lean over her, anxious. 'Careful; you don't want to feel what happened to you just yet, I don't think.' He chuckled gently. 'How do you feel?'
Sakura inhaled deeply, wincing again beneath the oxygen mask. 'Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that, should I?' He frowned at himself.
'Syaoran,' she managed to breathe, emerald eyes looking up at him beseechingly. He knew what she wanted to ask, had she managed to breathe longer than three seconds without it hurting, and he smiled down at her, stroking her fringe back. His amber eyes softened somewhat.
'It doesn't matter now,' he whispered back, planting a careful kiss to her forehead. 'What's done is done; let the past be the past.' He pulled back, sitting in his seat once more. 'I've forgiven and forgotten everything already, so don't worry about unnecessary things. Go back to sleep; I promise I'll be here when you wake up.' He winked at her, and was rewarded with another smile on her face as she turned her head back into its original position, shutting her eyes once more. He held her hand again, toying with her fingers loosely and frowning when he realised he had forgotten to ask the most vital question.
There would be time for that when she woke again, he decided, settling himself into the chair once more. When she woke again, there'd be plenty of time in which to talk and apologise, to forgive and forget.
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This first part won't make much sense just yet, and it's short, yes; but the intention was this story would be short. Very short. It's only three, maybe four parts if I stretch it well enough. As I said, it won't make sense - it'll only make sense, what you've read, after I've posted Part Two - How It All Began. And no, this won't exactly follow the normal rules of time because you need to learn of now, then the past and then we'll skip ahead a little bit ;) Not to give too much away.
The review button's in exactly the same place as always,
Tears x
