Natsukashii
This is the death of summer nights spent on rooftops - d.b.s.

Disclaimer: Not my characters - that's what makes it "FAN" fic.

A/N: Excuse the somewhat sappy conclusion - but seriously, what else could I do! haha Thanks to everyone who reviewed my first ever fic, you guys rock.

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Chapter Three

Forget Everything You Know

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Sakura's pen drops to the page, soundlessly. She pushes away from the desk with both arms and sighs, eyes to the ceiling, full to brimming with a brand new feeling. Or is it a very old feeling? There is no way to be sure, but as she reaches up to remove a rhinestone clip from her unwashed hair, letting the tendrils fall around her face, she is both exhausted and energized, depleted and renewed. Gradually, the room around her is fading into a slow consciousness – the temperature and dimensions, the lines of evening sunlight through the blinds splayed over one wall, the digital face of a clock on the bedside table. Ignored for days, these details now begin to seep into her awareness in a gentle but steady flow. Her stomach growls, and she smiles as if waking from a long sleep.

21 missed calls. Sakura shrugs, unaffected, and scrolls through the list of numbers. Tomoyo, Tomoyo, Work, Chiharu, Tomoyo, Work Work Work Work… Guess I can't go back there, she thinks, relieved in a small way. What time is it? How many days has it been since I looked at the clock, she wonders, glancing at the glowing numbers on the bedside table – friendly now, without the lustre of their menacing significance.

Still dazed from the exertion of writing, Sakura moves toward the sun-striped window and peers through the blinds, down over the golden-lit street. There is a bright yellow sports car parked on the roadside, conspicuous even in the warm light of the evening summer sun. More conspicuous still, a young man with rolled up shirt-sleeves is balancing on the low concrete garden wall, with arms outstretched like a tight-rope walker. He places one foot in front of another cautiously, eyes closed, a picture of contentment on his sun-kissed face.

It feels right, thinks Syaoran, as a small breeze lifts the hair on his forehead – it just feels right, being here. Eyes shut tight, walking along this concrete wall, he feels her presence as a peaceful, soothing warmth. It has been 3 days since the night he saw her again at last, and ever since that night he has been waiting. Back and forth between this spot out front of her house and his client's office, he has not slept. And yet, he feels healthy, relaxed and strong, somehow - he is near to the place that she is. And it almost doesn't feel like waiting anymore, either… Syaoran is simply being. Being here again, at last, it just feels right.

Maybe I'm obsessed with her, he thinks, deliberately teetering on the wall before regaining his balance. If I am now, then I always have been, he decides, with nostalgia. Even as a child, he was forever watching her. Thinking about her. It's been ten years, he remembers, with a muted boyish flush of embarrassment, since his first confession of love to her. And then, the past few years in Hong Kong…

His train of thought is fractured by the sound of an opening door. Syaoran whips his head toward the sound and sees her, standing in the open doorway, with damp hair shining and flushed, dewy cheeks glowing fresh from the bath. Her green eyes catch the evening sun and radiate depth, and clarity, like natural pools in a forest, and Syaoran's knees feel so suddenly weak that he steps down off the wall into the grass.

"H..Hi…"

"Sakura! Uh… hi."

Sakura fidgets with the sleeves of her over-sized sweater. "Um… I really don't know what to say right now." She brushes a strand of wet hair away from her face. "The other night… was dumb, and I'm sorry…"

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry! I shouldn't have… and… and… and what have you been doing all this time?" Syaoran is exasperated, but smiling. It is so comfortable to be near her, at last.

Sakura grins, unexpectedly, her eyes flashing mischief. "I could be asking you the same thing…" A loaded pause… and an exhilarated Sakura begins to run, bare feet slapping along the boards of the patio, jumping lightly onto a deck chair, and turning. "I've… I've been writing!" She grabs hold of the edge of the roof and swings her feet upward, pushing one foot off the patio railing and wriggling her body up onto the low rooftop. Syaoran's eyes widen, and with a few athletic bounds he is on the patio railing in a flash. She is giggling as she tiptoes along the roof tiles.

"Writing? What, a manuscript?" He struggles onto the roof behind her, laughing as well.

"I guess you could say that. Maybe more of a manifesto…" She reaches the crest of the roof and lies back on the tiles, stretching her arms above her head. Syaoran settles down beside her, feeling the warmth of the roof tiles on his back.

She giggles again. "I feel… I feel like myself again, you know?" A cloud moves across her face. "It's been a pretty long time…" Turning to gaze at him, her eyes become inquisitive. She speaks tenderly. "What are you doing here anyway, Syaoran?"

Taken aback, a little, Syaoran looks up at the sky. "I guess that's a good question…" He shrugs. "A friend of the family offered me a junior position in his firm…" Stopping himself, "well, actually I suppose I was looking for it. I wanted… an excuse to come back here, I guess."

A bird soars overhead, without a sound. "I just, well… the last few years have been pretty messed up. I was trying to figure out what I wanted. God, I was such a stupid teenager…"

He shakes his head. "Things were weird when I left here – I just wanted to be somewhere where I belonged, where I could be myself, whatever that means. I wanted to speak my own language, figure out who I really was, you know?"

Sakura nods, slowly. Syaoran lowers his eyes, "All I ended up doing was screwing around for 3 years. Getting in trouble, spending money. I don't fit in in Hong Kong, I speak Cantonese like a foreigner…" Sakura stifles a small laugh. "It's okay, it was pretty dumb... I guess I've been abroad so long that I don't fit in anywhere…"

His eyes are the colour of molten amber in the slow setting sun. He inhales, deeply. "And… I thought about you. I couldn't stop thinking about you the entire time. God damnit I tried… but maybe, you're the only place I really belong after all…"

Looking worried, Syaoran props himself up on one arm, stuttering. "I, I mean, n-n-not to get all weird on you or anything…"

"It's alright." says Sakura, warmly. Gazing up at the sky, she inches her hand closer to him. He blushes at the sensation against his open hand, but smiles, as she entwines her fingers with his. "You know, " she begins, "I've been so afraid of the seasons changing. Thinking that you can never go back – to childhood, to summer nights spent on rooftops… But I was wrong. You can do whatever you want – if you create it yourself. If you're not afraid to, that is... All you have to do is just let go..."

"Then…" Syaoran sighs, wistfulness barely disguising the hopeful tone in his voice. "You think that you and I might be able to start over?"

"Uh-uh, no." Sakura shakes her head sweetly. "But… we can do something even better than that."

"What are you saying, Sakura?"

"I... I'm saying that we can remember everything that we were, and dream everything that we want to become, and live everything that we are in this moment. I'm saying that we can tear down our walls and open our minds to everything, good and bad, we can feel it all… Syaoran..." Her eyes are glistening with tears in the gold of the sunset, but her lips form a gentle smile. "I don't care how I live... how painful it is to remember some things... I just need to be myself again. I need to write and I need to feel, everything." She is looking at the sky. "I know what I want now, Syaoran. No more nothingness, never again. I want... I want everything…"

"Everything..." Syaoran mouths the word, turning it over in his mind. Never in his life has she been this beautiful, and never has he been so sure. "Sakura…" Right now, here with you, the world makes sense... He moves toward her. Purposefully, decisively. "Let's live that way. I want to be with you… through everything…"

And their lips meet, tenderly, like the moist petals of flowers in bloom; like two children's hearts coming home at last. Just let go. Quietly, in the slow dying sun Sakura whispers, "It tastes like summer…"