Disclaimer: I do not own CCS.

Pandora's Box

Chapter Three

Friendship and Butterfly Tattoos

Syaoran's eyes squinted at the sunlight. He groaned, rolled to the side and fell off the couch with a loud thump. Lazy with sleep, he remained spilled on the floor, flat on his stomach in the narrow space between the couch and the coffee table, until he finally found the resolve to leave the blissful world of dreamlike wonders and false reality. He blinked at the unfamiliar setting and with a soft grunt, sat up to take a quick look around.

"Oh, right. Japan." He winced, rubbing the soreness out of a bruising elbow.

He then fell back on his back and released a deep sigh. Unfortunately, everything was now coming back to him: the scandal, his mother, the class reunion, his mother, sex on the plane, his mother and Japan, Japan, Japan. 'Fuck' Syaoran hissed in frustration as he violently scratched his head and rolled to his side. Well, it was too late to mourn now. He was just as much here as the newspaper had already hit the stands back in Hong Kong and there was very little he could do about it all. Syaoran felt a small— very small— pang of regret.

He hadn't lied to his mother when he had said he was sorry, because he was. In fact, he was more than sorry he had gotten caught; but the rugged shameless excitement of sex, the thrill of feeling the booze go to your head and the combination of both that was a sweet drunkenness that left you bare, animal and ignorant, that, he loved. There was no use denying it, but he loved it the same way the drunk loves the bottle or the junkie the drugs in his needles. It was an addiction. One he nursed and catered because it was necessary. Syaoran thought of the promise he had made his mother and frowned. There was now no doubt he would break it again.

After a long moment of daydream, Syaoran emerged from his meditation spot to sit on the couch. At his arrival, sober, but drunk and dizzy with sleep, he had crashed on the couch and had slept nearly half the day away. He felt refreshed, he hadn't slept so well in weeks, but seeing as he hadn't yet showered, he still smelled of sweat, sex and four and a half hours of flight.

Syaoran took a good look at the apartment. It was the same as so many years ago, funny that his mother had been able to rent this very one on such short notice, but somehow the place felt oddly foreign. The walls had been repainted, Syaoran noticed, but all in all, everything looked pretty much the same. It was still the same vast, sparsely furnished and notoriously bland apartment Syaoran had always found ridiculously big for a single person to live in. Well positioned, the long floor to ceiling living room windows drowned the room in sunlight at any given moment of the day. Syaoran rose from the couch to go pull at the curtains. The brightness was giving him a headache.

Nearly dragging his feet, Syaoran leisurely walked across the living room to the kitchen. By the front door, his luggages were in a neat pile. He rummaged through the nearly empty kitchen shelves and cupboards until he found a glass and poured himself a tall glass of tab water that he downed without taking a breath. After slamming the glass on the counter, Syaoran wiped his lips dry and headed to the bathroom.

Walking down the hall, Syaoran removed his shirt and let it fall on the floor behind him. He entered the bathroom without turning on the lights and threw a towel over the mirror. Sometimes, only sometimes, the darkness was soothing enough to bring his mind to peace. As he moved in the dark, the wings on his back folded then spread wide.

He stepped in the shower and turned on only the cold water. It trickled from his head to his toes, sending chills all over his body. He raised his head to stare at the faucet and quietly wondered if he could drown staying like this with his mouth open. It was a game he sometimes liked to play in his spare time. He figured one day he would eventually find the simplest, most unusual way to die a conveniently accidental, most unsuspected death. So he tried, opened his mouth under the faucet. The water tasted like iron and the answer, of course, was no.

Syaoran exited the bathroom moments later, grabbing the towel on the mirror as he went. He was toweling himself dry, while heading to his bedroom when he remembered his luggage and clothes where still piled up at the entrance; so his made for the front door, dropping the towel a few meters from his shirt in the hallway. Naked as a worm, Syaoran strolled across the living room— so much the better for the closed curtains— and opened the first luggage he touched. He got dressed on the spot and left the pile of luggage as it was.

Looking lean and lazy in oversized grey sweats and a plain white tee, he rested a hand on his stomach to feel a loud, thundering growl. He took a quit glance in the fridge and finding nothing but cold air, figured he would eat out until he eventually got around to doing the groceries. After grabbing his keys on the counter and moving the pile of baggage from the door with his foot, Syaoran stepped out of his apartment towards the elevators.

It wasn't long before the first one came along and he quietly stepped inside, greeted by glorious elevator music. He had already reached the lobby when he remembered he had forgotten to take his wallet. So he went back in the elevator, punched in his floor number and patiently waited for the doors to close.

"Hold the elevator!" a voice shouted from the lobby. Out of courtesy, Syaoran extended a hand to stop the doors from closing. A young man carrying several grocery bags slipped inside.

"Thank you." He shot Syaoran a smile. It looked oddly familiar. Syaoran nodded softly at the man and pretended to turn his attention to the metal doors, but continued staring from the corner of his eye.

The man, who looked about Syaoran's age, was fairly tall, standing about a head taller than the brunet, and had pale porcelain skin and midnight blue hair. He wore glasses and a casual smile. Somehow, he noticed Syaoran staring and turned Syaoran's way to shoot him another smile. When Syaoran looked away to avoid making eye contact, the man kept staring.

"You look familiar, have we met before?" he said casually.

'Yeah, maybe you saw my face in the tabloids, or maybe I slept with you and don't remember. Say, were you in Hong Kong recently?' Syaoran quietly pretended not to hear and gleefully eyed the elevator dashboard.

"You're… Syaoran, aren't you? Syaoran Li?" the man asked tentatively. Syaoran tensed upon hearing his name. His eyes narrowed and he slowly turned his head to send the man a wary look. He never told his name to the people he slept with.

"Yea…" Studying the man's face attentively, Syaoran recognized him easily "… Hiiragizawa." He whispered with only a pinch of relief.

"It really is you. I almost didn't recognize you with your hair like that." Eriol marveled,

Syaoran self-consciously ran a hand through his short hair, "Yea… Long it was always messy so…" he trailed on. He looked down, thick long lashes nearly brushing against the skin.

Eriol stared, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Hm, yeah." Syaoran shifted, uncomfortable. He hadn't looked forward to coming to Japan for many reasons, and had he known Hiiragizawa Eriol would be there, god knows, the man would have been one of them.

"Since when are you in Tomoeda?" Eriol inquisitively tilted his head to the side.

"Not long… Just got here… This morning …" Syaoran mumbled and scratched the back of his head.

"Well is that so? I take it you've received the invitation to the class reunion." Eriol said, almost cheerfully.

"You too?" Syaoran sent Eriol a look. This bubbly friendliness seemed somehow uncharacteristic of him, but then again, they hadn't seen each other in over ten years and you had to believe people could change. Even people like Hiiragizawa Eriol. Still, Syaoran couldn't help feeling there was was something different about the man, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"Yes. But that's not the reason I'm here. I moved back to Tomoeda four or some years ago." Eriol flashed Syaoran his apartment keys, "I'm on the eighth floor, apartment 802."

Syaoran hummed in wonder. The prospect of living in the same apartment building as Eriol was just a little creepy. He just wasn't the type of person you usually considered… Well, normal, "What happened to that eerie little uphill mansion of yours?"

Eriol laughed, a little at Syaoran's surprise, "Clow's, you mean? It was never meant to last. After I left it ten years ago, the magic slowly dissipated and the house soon fell to shambles. Sad to say the town bulldozed it flat and built a lovely park in its place."

"Oh… I'm sorry." He wasn't really. It just seemed like the right thing to say.

"No need to be. Luckily for me, Clow's ultimate master plan ended with the transformation of the cards, allowing me to be my own person from then on. The destruction of Clow's mansion marked a new start. It was quite refreshing." Eriol smiled to himself. Syaoran quietly eyed the man. He could now see what was so different about Eriol. Ten years ago, he had looked like a man-child, an adult mind trapped in a child's body. He had seemed too mature for his age, as though the responsibilities he had to endorse for Sakura's sake had forced him to grow up too fast, but now, he just seemed… Free, and happy. Syaoran couldn't help finding it more than a little unsettling. And enviable.

"Going home?" Eriol asked after a moment of silence, "Still in your old apartment?"

"No, and yes. I was on my way out for diner—or in my case lunch— when I realized I forgot my wallet. I'm just going back up to get it."

"Really now? I was actually about to cook diner myself," Eriol lifted one of the bags he carried, "Why don't you join us? There's a Chardonnay I've been saving for a future unexpected occasion."

Syaoran scratched the back of his head and pondered on a polite way to decline, "I don't know… It'd hate to impose…"

"Nonsense. It'll give us a chance to get reacquainted, and I promise not to let Ruby anywhere near the kitchen."

Syaoran surprisingly felt his lips curve, "Fine. Why not?"

Right on cue, the elevator doors opened on Eriol's floor.

"Right this way then." Eriol said, leading the way. For a split second, alone in the elevator, Syaoran hesitated and almost reconsidered, but finally followed Eriol out as doors closed tight behind him.

They walked down the wide hallways, stopped in front of door on which glistened, in bold gold print, the number 802, and paused an instant while Eriol struggled with all the bags to open the door. When they finally stepped inside, a black cat elegantly strolled over to greet its master by the door. The animal stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Syaoran and eyed him with quiet curiosity.

"You have a pet?" Syaoran crouched to get a closer look. The cat's fur gleamed violet and silver highlights, but his eyes, wide and intense, were bleu as the sky in the darkness of night, "It's beautiful…"

"Why, thank you. You're not so bad yourself." Said the cat before stretching with a lazy yawn. Syaoran watched the cat carelessly lick his fur clean and turned his gaze up to Eriol. Eriol laughed at the look on Syaoran's face. It wasn't one of shock or even surprise; it was one of resignation. It was the face of someone who acknowledged his ignorance and simply awaited an explanation.

"Enlighten me." Syaoran shrugged at the laugh he took for mockery.

"It's Spinel." Eriol smiled and headed for the kitchen to drop the grocery bags, "Spinel, you remember Syaoran don't you? We just met in the elevator."

The cat took a few quick steps towards Syaoran and bounced on his laps with animal agility. Spinel held Syaoran's head still between its paws and carefully scrutinized his face, "My, my. Time has done you well, didn't it boy? Last I saw you, you looked like a shrimp."

Syaoran smiled good-humoredly and held the cat at arm's distance in front of his face, "Wish I could return the compliment. What in the world happened to you?"

Before Spinel could answer, a tall older woman wrapped in a towel appeared in the living room. Her brown hair, styled in a short straight bob, was still dripping from the bath she had just taken. Syaoran realized it was not Kaho.

"Nakuru, can't you show the least bit of decency in front of a guest?" Spinel quite literally hissed at the woman.

Nakuru stretched a lean arm inside the fridge and pulled out a beer. It fizzed out when she snapped the can open, "Nobody warned me we were having company so don't expect a thing from me." She emptied the can without taking a breath and exhaled with satisfaction.

"Nakuru?" This time, Syaoran set Spinel down and stood, "But you look… Old."

A vein popped on Nakuru's forehead as she crushed the empty can in her hand, "Just the thing a woman wants to hear after stepping out of the shower. I'll have you know that, at the tender age of 26, I am a flower in full bloom, you prick!" She shouted pointing an accusing finger at Syaoran.

"What? No, what I meant to say is you look older—" Syaoran ducked to avoid a flying beer can that Spinel eventually received right on the forehead. The can soon became the catalyst to a heated session of bickering. To avoid any stray fire, Syaoran escaped the living room and headed towards the kitchen. He leaned his back on the counter next to Eriol, who, undisturbed, was quietly putting away groceries. When Syaoran came near, Eriol turned to smile at him, "What did you do to them?" Syaoran frowned.

"I made them mortal." Eriol answer easily as he went on his toes to put a can of soup in a top cupboard.

"You did what?" Syaoran couldn't help the shock in his voice, but managed to hide the disdain.

"I made them mortal," Eriol repeated casually.

"Mortal, Eriol?" Syaoran's eyes were wide with surprise and a tinge of indignation.

Eriol smiled, "You called me by my first name," but then he caught a glimpse at Syaoran's face, "Oh, it was their choice. I simply obliged, following their wishes."

"Doesn't that go against some big shot magician code of ethics or something?" Syaoran gestured in exasperation.

"I got approval from the department." Eriol laughed, much to Syaoran's frustration.

Syaoran frowned, "Making them ordinary like that, can't help finding it a tad unnatural."

Eriol paused to put a few juice boxes in the fridge, "Unnatural, is it?... Now that all is over, they have very little use for their magical forms. Unlike Kero and Yue, they have no duty, no cards to guard, no purpose really... So I gave them one. I gave them a life, a normal life to live where they will have to make choices, where they will make mistakes, learn and grow from them." Eriol looked at Syaoran in the eyes and for the first time since their meeting, regained his lost aura of dark maturity, "Is it right to force them to live on aimlessly even after their master has well passed away and that just because they are magical creatures? They did not wish to suffer the same fate as Clow's guardians, so I gave them the option not to. You may not think I did the right thing, but I believe I did what was right for them."

Syaoran turned his eyes to Nakuru and Spinel who were still bickering in the living room. They certainly did not seem unhappy.

Syaoran shrugged, "Hey, they're your guardians, so I guess it's not my place to judge… I just hope you understand what you did," He chuckled, "But it scares me that you were even able to do such a thing. Magic is a wonderful thing isn't it?" the hint of bitterness didn't escape Eriol, "If only all were so gifted, my mother would be an obscenely happy woman." Syaoran moved to sit on the counter behind Eriol, resting elbows on his lap.

"To be fair, I had the very helpful knowledge and memories of a powerful dead man." Eriol had a small smile. He had finished putting away the groceries and had now begun cooking the meal. On a wide wooden board, he was cutting up vegetables. "But to be honest, in the elevator, I wasn't sure it was you because I couldn't feel your aura at all. Figured you had finally learned how to conceal it. As a kid, you were always flaring it without restraint." He said with a short laugh.

Syaoran smiled at the floor, but his eyes were dull and lightless, "Is that so…?"

There was a short silence in the room with no other sound but the knife hitting the cutting board. At some point Nakuru had left the living room and Spinel had fallen asleep sprawled on the couch.

"Did you lose it?" Eriol asked softly without shifting his attention from the dicing board.

Syaoran head snapped up and he stared at Eriol's back, "You mean to my magic? No, it's still there, probably. Wouldn't know. I don't do it anymore."

Eriol frowned at the cabbage he was cutting, "What do you mean you don't do it anymore?"

"I mean I don't practice it, I don't study it, I don't use it, and I don't care about it." Syaoran sat up and shifted his weight to his hands resting behind him along the counter. Eriol's frown deepened when he suddenly understood Syaoran had, consciously or not, sealed his magic away like one would put a cap on an open bottle. Unlike concealment, it wasn't a mark of restraint, but one of repression.

"Why would you do such a thing?" Despite his calm, Eriol's words were sharp.

"Because it's better for me this way." he shifted his gaze to the ceiling.

"You better than anyone should know you can't suppressing your magic like that."

Syaoran shrugged, "It won't kill me."

"But it just might."

Syaoran thought of his frequent nauseas and dizzy spells, "It's a small price to pay."

"Why are you being so unreasonable?" Eriol snapped, slamming the knife on the cutting board as he turned to face Syaoran.

"What makes you think you've got the right to say anything about it?" Syaoran snapped back with a glare.

They both gauged each other a moment, the air around them crackling with intensity.

Eriol sighed and turned around to put the vegetables in the broth, "Forgive me for caring."

Syaoran sneered, "Oh please, you're the last person who'd give a damn. You never gave a hoot about me when I was ten, and you knew me then, so don't pretend you give a shit after a ten year void."

"…You're being unfair, Syaoran."

"May be, but it's the truth isn't it? The only thing that ever mattered in your little plan was Sakura. I was always only a tool."

"Is that what this is about? An old grudge over the inheritance of some heirloom? I didn't choose who the cards belonged to, Syaoran. In Clow's plans, I was just as much a tool as you were."

Syaoran opened his mouth to protest, but clamped it back shut. Eriol was right, and he knew it, but his pettiness and arrogance would never allow him to admit it. He stared down at his feet and realized that, in all laziness, he had stepped out of the house in his slippers.

In the tense silence, Eriol decided they both needed to cool off and reached inside the fridge for the promised bottle of wine. He opened it in silence and filled two wide wine glasses to the rim. Syaoran drank half of his in a mouthful.

Eriol smiled, "A wine this fine should be sipped, not chugged."

Syaoran paused, staring into his glass, before bringing it to his lips for a sip, "I was being an ass, and I'm sorry about that." And this time he actually meant it.

Eriol raised his glass at the brunet, "And it only took half a glass of Chardonnay for you to admit it. Cheers to that."

Syaoran felt a smile creep up his cheeks and the former tension suddenly dissipate.

Eriol held his glass in one hand, and stirred a pot with another, "… You and I both know you were just as—and perhaps even more—deserving of the cards than Sakura, but it just wasn't meant to be."

Syaoran shrugged, "Deserving and being able are two different things. Maybe I wasn't meant for the cards because I was just too weak."

Eriol shook his head, "But shutting your magic off completely as a way to punish yourself for your own weaknesses is just a little extreme, don't you think?" He turned to face Syaoran.

Syaoran only stared back, then, released a low sigh. It wasn't like he expected Eriol to understand. He had done it for himself, to preserve his last shred of sanity. And it had worked. Syaoran hopped off the counter and strolled across the living room, twirling the wine in his glass. His gaze skimmed idly across the décor. Eriol's apartment was much like his, structure wise, but a good, classic and classy decoration had rendered the place much less bland.

On the little shelf over the wide plasma TV, were a number of framed pictures. Syaoran inched forward to get a closer look, trying not to seem too interested. There were several pictures from ten years ago, including one they had taken on the day of Eriol's departure in front of the mansion that no longer existed. In the frame were four children, Kaho, Nakuru and Spinel. Some pictures were from England, featuring Eriol or Nakuru with people Syaoran couldn't know, but a single picture truly grabbed Syaoran's attention. Despite himself, he reached forward and took it in his hands. It was one of Eriol and Kaho asleep on the couch. Kaho's head rested on Eriol's chest, long auburn hair cascading everywhere, while Eriol, who wasn't wearing glasses, had an arm around her shoulder. Both looked serene, quietly peaceful and perfectly content.

'The happy couple… Is it?' Syaoran didn't know why, but this picture captivated him. As his eyes slowly drifted to Eriol's sleeping face, he found it unexpectedly attractive.

"A rare Kodak moment, isn't it?" Nakuru peered over Syaoran's shoulder, "I managed to capture it, back when we were still in England." Now dressed in jeans and a thin sweater, Nakuru smiled at the framed picture. Her face had lost most of its candid youthfulness, but glints of cheerfulness and mischief still shone bright in her eyes.

Syaoran calmly replaced the frame, "Yeah…"

"It's really too bad Kaho-chan couldn't come with us to Japan. Being the only girl in the house is really hard." Nakuru sighed melodramatically.

Spinel stretched awake on the couch, "How hard can it be? You don't do anything." Nakuru only glared at the cat.

Syaoran continued eyeing the pictures "So, how does it feel being mortal?"

Nakuru stared at Syaoran a moment, her eyes distant. Finally, she blinked the daydream away and smiled "It's humbling." She sighed, Syaoran's gaze turned towards her "Being a mortal really isn't as easy as it seems. You work hard for almost nothing, relationships with people are fragile and complicated, the body's weak and changing, aging, constantly. Sadness and joys come so easily and so frequently, it's tiring…" she waved a dismissive gesture, "But at least now I have a gender."

Syaoran felt himself smile, "Yeah, that's definitely a plus." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the cream color rug at his feet, "What unexpectedly mature things to say. Coming from you."

Nakuru pouted, but her eyes twinkled, "They say maturity comes with age, don't they?"

"Then please age faster. Lord knows how far behind you are in that department." Spinel said from the couch where he was licking his fur clean. Nakuru seized him by the skin on his neck and hurled him across the room knowing full well that he would land on his feet.

"Yes, yes. If the both of you could just stop fighting an instant, you could come sit down. Dinner's ready." said Eriol, his voice vibrant with playful undertones. Nakuru and Spinel shifted their bickering to the dining room followed closely by a slightly disconcerted Syaoran. Nakuru took place at one end of the table, while, in a single bounce, Spinel hopped to her left onto the table.

"I hope you're hungry, I haven't cooked for so many people in a while. Seems I made a little too much." Eriol grinned as he showed Syaoran his seat.

"Cooking for 3 people to cooking for 4 doesn't make such a big difference."Syaoran pulled a chair from the table and plopped in his seat. As a matter of fact, he was ravenous and the food sparkling on the table looked positively delicious.

"Actually, I just move back in here." Nakuru stated before saying grace and digging in.

"From where?" Syaoran asked. Eyeing his plate carefully, he debated on where to start.

"My boyfriend's apartment." Nakuru said casually. She stuffed a large tempura in her mouth. Syaoran's attention momentarily shifted from his plate to the woman at his right. "What? Does it shock you that I might actually have a life?"

"No, no…" Syaoran quickly shook his head, but then reconsidered "Well, yes."

Nakuru chuckled, "If it puts your mind at ease, he was a sorcerer. And a complete jackass. He broke up with me in a voicemail message." she ruthlessly stabbed into her greens.

"So for a while it was just Spinel and I." Eriol accurately changed the subject. He dropped a bowl of stew on the table and sat facing Syaoran.

"And a cat can only eat so much." Spinel's head rose from his plate. Tempura crumbs clung to his whiskers.

"So I was basically cooking for myself." Eriol grinned.

"I see…" Syaoran whispered. The oddness of the situation did not escape him, but for the sake of remaining courteous, he would gladly pretend it did. "So… What do you guys do for a living?" he asked before shoving food in his mouth.

"I'm a high school teacher." Nakuru poured herself a tall glass of Chardonnay.

"I'm a cat." Spinel licked crumbs from the fur on his paw.

"And I'm a university student." Eriol sipped his wine. Syaoran sent a stumped look towards Eriol's plate. Somehow, Eriol had beaten him to the finish. His plate was already clear and empty.

"Is that so… Which university?" Syaoran rose food to his mouth, still quietly wondering where Eriol's went.

"K University."

"Really? Me too. Economy, though I always wanted to study archeology. But mother didn't think it was appropriate for the future head of the clan to make a living digging out dirt…" Syaoran rambled on. He had no idea why he was even saying this.

Eriol smiled that mysterious smile of his, "I study law."

"Ah. Somehow I half expected you to say English Literature or something."

Eriol chuckled, "Why come to Japan, from England, to study English Literature? That would just be strange."

Syaoran stared, "And that's exactly why I expected it from you." Eriol had another good hearted laugh. "And why didn't Kaho follow you back?" Syaoran kept his eyes on his plate as he picked through the remains of a scrumptious meal. He calmly feigned indifference, but deep inside felt surprisingly greedy for knowledge.

Eriol grinned, perhaps seeing through Syaoran's hidden nosiness "The timing just wasn't right, I guess."

"Hmm…" Syaoran whispered in wonder, hoping to get a little more information. At the corner of the table, bloated and lazy, Spinel stretched and yawned.

"Time for another after-nap nap." he said before hopping off the table, striding down and disappearing down the hallway.

"And time for me to resume the cursing of my lovely spineless bastard of an ex-boyfriend. Think I should go for the voodoo doll stabbing first or the eternal bad luck spell-throwing?" Nakuru quietly pondered as she also strode down the hallway to her bedroom.

Syaoran shook his head at Nakuru's retreating figure, "Remind me never to get on her bad side. Ever." he turned to Eriol.

"Will do." Eriol chuckled and rose to begin clearing the table.

"I'll help." Syaoran also stood grabbing a couple empty plates.

"Oh, but it's alright. You don't have to." Eriol politely gestured for Syaoran to sit down.

"And do what in the meantime? Watch you clean up after the meal you cooked?" Syaoran politely ignored Eriol's gesture and carried a handful of plates to the kitchen. "It's the least I can do after freeloading my way through a delicious meal." He dropped the plates in the sink and grabbed the soap bottle and a sponge.

"Why thank you for the compliment." Eriol grinned as he came by Syaoran in front of the sink. When Eriol dropped the rest of the plates in the sink, his arm brushed against Syaoran's hand ever slightly. Feeling his skin tingle, Syaoran jerked his hand away. Eriol smiled, sending him a questioning look. Syaoran's cheeks grew warm, he turned so Eriol wouldn't see. Embarrassed and confused at his own jumpiness, Syaoran subtly inched away from Eriol.

"I wash, you rinse." he mumbled to his left shoulder.

"Very well." Eriol replied, completely unaware that Syaoran's heart was pounding hard against his ribcage and simply wouldn't settle down. Syaoran carefully handed Eriol a first plate, making sure their fingers didn't touch. In his deep focus to avoid making physically contact, Syaoran had become stiff and silent, and though Eriol was more than comfortable with the uneasy silence, Syaoran quickly found it unnerving. He rattled his brain for a way to break the silence only he found tense.

"So how are things between you and Kaho really?" He quickly blurted out before mentally cursing his bluntness.

"Oh, we're fine, really." Eriol replied casually.

Syaoran paused, he was going to think twice at what he said next. The last thing he wanted was to seem eager, or even worse, interested "Are you two still… You know."

"A couple? No, we ended it when I left England." Eriol placed a wide bowl on the steel dish drainer.

"Oh. I'm sorry." But he wasn't. Not the least bit, in fact.

"Don't be. Our relationship ran its course and we are one of the lucky few who manage to remain good friends."

"… Did you love her?" Syaoran had no idea why he asked, but somehow he needed to know.

"Of course. I still do actually. Well, not so romantically anymore, but I still very much care about her."

"Huh." Syaoran had a look on his face like, to him, the concept Eriol spoke of was far and foreign.

"How are things between Sakura and you?" From the corner of his eye, Eriol watched for Syaoran's reaction, but Syaoran's face remained impassive.

Syaoran mulled over the question as though it was tricked, "… I don't know."He finally answered, truthfully.

"You don't?" Eriol turned inquisitive eyes Syaoran;s way and took the last dish he was handing him.

"I don't." Syaoran dried his hands on a dish cloth and stepped back so Eriol could have more room to finish rinsing. "I think we're ok, though… Or maybe not. I don't know." He frowned lightly, scratching the back of his head.

Eriol placed the last plate on the dish drainer, turned around facing Syaoran and asked the question that burned his tongue, "What happened?"

Syaoran eyes glazed momentarily and without answering, he walked to the dining table to fill his glass with wine. He took a sip and went to sit on the living room couch. Eriol slowly followed, taking in passing his wine glass that was still half full on the table.

Syaoran silently watching Eriol skim a hand over the pictures on the shelf over the TV. "A lot happened, but very little had to do with her." He finally whispered as he dropped to his side on the couch, careful not to spill his drink. Finding what he had been searching for, Eriol seized an old picture and walked to place it at the center of the coffee table. Syaoran's eyes glanced at the object and he realized it was the picture from 10 years ago, all of them in front of the old mansion. Eriol sat at Syaoran's feet, on the floor in the space between the couch and the coffee table. His back leaning against the sofa, he waited until Syaoran was ready to elaborate, but he never did. Instead, he rolled on his back, balancing the wine glass on his stomach and simply stared at the ceiling.

Eriol took a sip from his glass.

"Tell me, did Kaho and you ever… Do it?" Syaoran asked without diverting his eyes from the beige ceiling.

Eriol felt his lips curve, "You mean have sex?"

"Of course I mean have sex, what else could I possibly mean." Syaoran replied with a frown and soft impatience.

Eriol had a short laugh. He didn't usually kiss and tell, but this time he didn't feel the need to be secretive. Somehow, he had the feeling this was like an exchange, payment for something much deeper and much more desirable, "Yes, we did."

"Really?" Syaoran's brows lifted in mild surprise.

"We were together over five years. Wouldn't it be odd if we didn't?" Eriol took another sip of wine.

"But you were so much younger than her." Syaoran tipped and twirled the glass on his stomach.

"Age difference mattered very little, but if anything, it was only at my advantage."

"How old were you the first time?" Somehow, Syaoran didn't mind prying anymore.

Eriol looked up to scan his memory, "Fifteen."

Syaoran snorted a short, incredibly bitter laugh, "Me too. What a coincidence." Eriol stared, he could have asked, but he knew it wasn't time. "How was it?" Syaoran asked casually.

The memory made Eriol smile, "Sweet. Short, but sweet." Syaoran chuckled, but as he drifted into his thoughts, the smile progressively faded. He took a gulp of wine to wash away the dryness in his throat. He twirled and toyed with the glass balancing on his stomach, but when a thought suddenly had his hand quivering, drops of liquid stained the white of his shirt. He quickly sat up, cursing.

Eriol eyed the wide stain, and stood, setting his glass on the coffee table "Take off your shirt, I'll wash it before it stains." Syaoran obligingly removed his shirt and handed to Eriol who disappeared down the hallway, returning a while later without the shirt in his hand. By then, Syaoran was quietly dozing off on the couch sprawled flat on his stomach. Eriol chuckled at the other man's lazy form. He walked to the coffee table to pick up the two empty glasses when something on Syaoran back caught his attention.

Eriol leaned forward to get a better look. Imprinted on tan skin in black and white, glorious twin angel wings covered the length of Syaoran's shoulder blades. Eriol awed silently and raised a hand to touch the delicate looking picture with the tip of his fingers, but he had only brushed against the skin that Syaoran jumped on his elbows like it had stung. Now wide awake, he snapped his head Eriol's way to shoot him a sharp look.

Eriol raised arms in defense, "I was just looking at your tattoos."

Syaoran stared warily before reluctantly laying back on his stomach, his head resting on folded arms, "Then don't touch…" he mumbled in his forearms.

Eriol smiled and leaned forward once more. With each movement, the wings elegantly folded and unfolded. Despite the fair warning, Eriol slowly slid fingers over the warm skin. He felt Syaoran stiffen under his touch.

"They're beautiful…" He whispered, so close, Syaoran could feel warm breath tickling his skin.

"Relics of a rebellious teenage… Wish I hadn't done it, or at least had gotten something a little more manly." Syaoran felt himself shudder under Eriol's touch.

Feeling the tremor, Eriol removed his hand from Syaoran's back, "Oh, sorry. Are you cold? I'll get you something to wear until your shirt dries." Eriol quickly disappeared down the hallway and reappeared holding a plain navy blue tee. He watched as Syaoran pulled the shirt over his lean naked torso. The shirt was too big for him.

Drowsy with sleep and tipsy from the wine, Syaoran dropped on his back with a soft thump as Eriol quietly sat back on the floor. They remained silent; listening to the clock's rhythmic ticking.

"She cheated." Syaoran finally said.

"What?" Eriol's head turned.

"Sakura. She cheated. That's what happened."

"Cheated…?" Eriol was hesitant, it just wasn't Sakura's type.

"After all the Clow cards were transformed, I had to leave for China, but we agreed to keep in a long distance relationship. It was easy at first. We talked on the phone once a week, wrote every day, I even visited once in a while when I could… But as the years went by, we ended up talking less and less often. We saw each other less frequently, you could say the magic wore off. But during my fifteenth year… Sakura and I barely contacted each other. We stopped writing, our phone conversations became short, cold and distant… And then one day…" Syaoran squirmed on the couch, "One day she called to say she was seeing someone else. That she was sorry and hoped we could stay friends."

"Oh, Syaoran—" Eriol started, eyes offering warmth and sympathy.

"I hung up without saying a word. I wasn't really sad or angry or anything. I'm no idiot, I saw it coming a mile away…" Syaoran paused, shifting his gaze to the ceiling, "…It's just… She couldn't have had worse timing…"

"What do you mean?" Eriol stared, intrigued.

Syaoran shifted, once more, uncomfortable and reluctant to answer "…A lot happened… That year…" he mumbled, elusive.

"Like what?" It was Eriol's turn to pry shamelessly.

He ran a nervous hand through his short hair and sighed, "Enough to have me on medication and followed by an army of shrinks for the following three years…" Eriol's lips thinned as he let the information sink in. If he was shocked or surprised, he didn't let it show.

"What about your first time?" He whispered after a long silence.

Something quick and dark flashed in Syaoran's eyes. Surprisingly, it was followed by a deep laugh, "You'll have to get me much more than a little drunk for that talk."

Eriol considered insisting, but decided against it, "… Are you alright?"

Syaoran's head turned, "What? You mean now? Yes, of course." he waved dismissively and his gaze returned to a spot on the ceiling, "I don't take meds nor am I followed by an army of psychiatrists anymore." Just one, twice a month, but that Eriol didn't have to know.

The silence that followed was long and awkward, but it wasn't before long that Syaoran quietly drifted to sleep. When Eriol turned towards him to talk, he smiled at Syaoran's serene sleeping face instead. Eriol listened to Syaoran's soft breathing until he unwillingly fell asleep, right there, on the floor, with his head resting on Syaoran's knees.

The child sat in bed and stared straight at the darkness, or perhaps through it. His face was pale and strands of hair, drenched with sweat, clung to the skin on his forehead. He was completely still, completely silent, but his eyes shone with a dangerous, quiet fear. His hands clung to his blanket so tightly his nails dug into the skin of his palms.

There was a soft click in the room. The child jumped. It was a low, barely audible noise, but it resounded in his head like a thousand bells.

The child's face suddenly lit with an unfamiliar orange light. He felt a lump in his throat, he tried to swallow but his mouth was completely dry. Tears flowed from round amber poles, but he kept still, simply kept staring ahead, and soon, the room filled with the smell of burning flesh.

Syaoran woke gasping for air.

"Syaoran…?" Eriol said, rubbing sleep filled eyes, but the sight of Syaoran's pale, wide eyed terror was enough to wake him completely, "Are you ok? What's wrong? Syaoran?" Eriol dotted, barely able to contain the panic in his voice.

Eyes round with fear, Syaoran stared at his knees, but seemed elsewhere completely. His chest rose and fell quickly and his hair dripped with sweat. His quivering hands tightly grasped the fabric of his pants.

"Syaoran…?" Eriol reached for him, but dared not touch him.

Fear finally slowly slipped from Syaoran's eyes. It was replaced by an even more frightening soulless blank stare, a total, complete void and absence of consciousness. When Eriol thought Syaoran was finally settling down, the brunet made a mad dash for the kitchen where he violently emptied the content of his stomach in the sink. Eriol slowly followed him to the kitchen and saw that his hands were trembling on the rim of the sink. Syaoran finally slid to the floor, under the sink, and hugging his knees, he buried his head between them.

"T—Turn off the lights…" Syaoran said in a barely audible whisper, voice thick and raspy.

Eriol took a moment to react, but finally rushed near the lobby to the switch. The apartment plunged in deep darkness and heavy silence. Eriol waited with his hand on the light switch until his eyes grew accustom to the dark. Soft bleu moonlight hit the living room windows, shedding just enough light for Eriol to distinguish Syaoran's figure in the kitchen.

Eriol cautiously walked towards the kitchen. Curled in a ball against the hard floor, wearing this oversized t-shirt, Syaoran looked smaller and frailer Eriol had ever seen him. Eriol sat beside Syaoran, close enough for their shoulders to touch.

"T—this is… Embarrassing…" Syaoran whispered in a weak voice that hardly seemed to belong, "I—I'm fine… I'm alright… R—really… I j—just…" His teeth were beginning to chatter and his body shook with tremor.

Eriol slipped an arm around Syaoran's shoulder and held him close. Syaoran didn't protest. Instead, his head resting on Eriol's chest, he listened to the quiet heartbeat until he fell into dreamless, empty sleep. Eriol could hear Syaoran's soft breathing, but, this time, he couldn't fall asleep. Wide awake, he blankly stared straight ahead into the darkness.

Now he knew Syaoran had lied. He wasn't alright.

A/N: This chapter was all about our fav couple! I hope you enjoyed. Sorry it took me such a long time to update, but I was busy writing my first S&S (The Devil's Paintbrush) *laugh*. Yeah, I know, never thought I'd see the day either.

I've successfully reduced the glossary to… Well, nothing. I honestly think it's better that way. It makes my life so much easier. *laugh*

Chapter four is the class reunion, yeah I know, finally. I will update as soon as possible, but probably after a one shot or two, those are always so much fun to write…

Can't wait to hear what you thought of this chapter,

Tooddlez.