Disclaimer: I don't own CCS, it belongs to Clamp. However, if anyone is willing to sell me Eriol or Syaoran so that I can bring them to school with me to display for the world to be jealous…
Soundtrack: An Hao by Jay Chou, Because I'm a girl by Kiss
Author's Note: Review m'darlings…
Part Four: A Song and a Kiss
Tomoyo looked at Hiiragizawa-kun (it was hard to think of him as Eriol) uncertainly from across the coffee table. He leaned casually against the side of the armchair, looking at her with a half-smile, and he didn't seem to have any intention of speaking. A silent contest was pointless, she decided, and she was going to find out why he was here so soon again.
"Hiiragizawa-kun," she ventured, "Are you here because of what Sakura-chan asked?"
His half-smile didn't waver, and he asked politely, "What did Sakura-san ask?"
She silently berated herself for opening her mouth. Looking down at the armrest of the couch, she wondered how she would answer this. She wasn't a good liar; it seemed strange, since she never really told the truth to anyone, but outright lies were difficult. Half-truths, smiles without answers- those were easy. Looking someone in the eye and telling them something patently untrue was simply impossible.
"Tomoyo?"
She looked up at him. His use of such a familiar address still unnerved her. "Sakura-chan…" she began, as she traced the embroidery on the couch. "Sakura-chan asked me- well, she asked us- if we could do a song together. At the reception." Her stumble over reception was barely perceptible, but she could feel his eyes suddenly looking at her much more forcefully.
"And you said?"
It was hard not to look up. Magic simply was not fair. It seemed like he was willing her to look at him; like he was casting a spell over her. She bit her lip.
No, she thought, as droplets of coppery liquid trickled into her mouth. He was just making her paranoid, sitting there so calmly, and clearly so full of some untraceable emotion.
"I said yes, of course," she told him, tracing the embroidery with vigor. She would not look up.
"Of course," he echoed. "We should choose a song then. Unless she suggested one?"
Tomoyo shook her head.
He stood, and she chanced a glance at him. Would he leave now?
"May I use your piano?" he asked, catching her eye as he walked over and sat down on the bench.
She looked quickly back down as he began to play.
Eriol's lifted his hands from the keys, beginning with his wrists, in a movement that extended the piece even beyond the music. Standing quietly, he replaced the cloth over the keys, and closed the cover gently.
He turned to face her. Something twisted in his stomach as he saw her closed eyes, long lashes fanning out, and single tear down her cheek. He walked tentatively towards her.
Tentatively? Had he ever been tentative in his life? Had he ever cared enough to be tentative? He had always been confident, often cocky; he could talk his way out of any trouble, and if worst came to worst, his powers could get him out of any situation.
But here, with her.
She was so delicate.
Tomoyo's eyes fluttered open as he came within two feet of the couch.
"What did you think?" he asked, realizing how low his voice had become, how softly he was speaking.
She brushed the tear from her cheek. "It's fine," she said faintly.
"Fine?" he questioned, moving closer.
Her eyes darted to the piano, then to his chest, then back down to her hands. "Fine," she repeated.
He knelt beside the arm of the chair.
"Fine?" he pressed, and gasped harshly.
Blood welled in her palm, where her long nails had dug ruthlessly for the minutes that he played his piece. He grabbed for her hand.
"No!" She pulled back.
"You're bleeding on your dress, Tomoyo-"
She met his eyes. "Do you think I care?"
"Don't let it flow like that," he said, and tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Take this."
She stared at her bloody hand.
"It's going to dry under your nails," he warned.
She glared at him and snatched the handkerchief. "Is that… Spinel Sun?" she asked, examining a corner.
"Well," he said, reaching for her bleeding hand while she was distracted, "It's Nakuru's rather pathetic attempt at embroidery. Considering it's blue and seems to have a body and a tail, I would say that's a fair guess."
She half-hearted pulled her hand away, but he grasped it and took the handkerchief to press against her cuts.
"It's not pathetic," Tomoyo said, resigning herself to his ministrations.
"Nakuru will be pleased," he replied. "Hold this here," he instructed her as he stood. "Do you have rubbing alcohol and bandages?"
"I don't need them," she said petulantly.
"You're being a child," he admonished.
"I don't. I get cuts all the time and nothing ever happens." She glared at him defiantly.
He looked at her in mock horror. "Such confidence! This could be that one time, Tomoyo, that something horrible does happen. And what would you do without your hands? What would we do without your hands?"
"My hands are of no concern to you, Hiiragizawa-kun," she said as she stood and brought herself to her full height, the top of her head reaching just past his chin. "And as for what would happen if they were to become infected, I happen to know some excellent hand doctors and will be just fine, thank you." She started to walk past him.
He caught her hand and saw her wince.
"Now, Tomoyo, where are you going?" he asked.
She turned and glared.
"That is also none of your concern," she said. "You may leave my house now."
"But what of the song?"
Her eyes darkened. "The song… is fine. I'll sing it."
"Will you be fine?"
"You may come back tomorrow at four to practice. Unless you would rather another location," she said, ignoring his query.
He released her hand. "As you wish, Tomoyo-san," he said with a flourish, and walked out of the room.
She looked into the empty room, at the doorway he had just vacated, the piano he had played, and at the couch he had knelt, waiting for the front door to open and close.
"Have a nice day, Hiiragizawa-sama." And the heavy front door closed.
She dashed for the bathroom.
When inside, she reached mechanically for the box of bandages as she tip-toed to look out the window. She saw the long path, the gate, the streets beyond. Where was he? Her eyes darted around the manicured front lawn-
There. Just coming into view as he walked down the path. He was smiling and- whistling? Did Hiiragizawa Eriol whistle?
She tucked the thought away as she pulled out a bandage.
And though she could not (or would not) explain the reason, her eyes remained fixated on his retreating back as she absent-mindedly bandaged her cuts.
He came on time the next day, showing up at her door with a copy of the piece for her. She wasn't sure if she wanted this reminder in her house all the time, on top of all the others, but she supposed it couldn't be helped. She must practice, after all; she wouldn't have him thinking her a slow learner.
He started with voice exercises with her, going up and down the scale. She would stand just to the side of the piano, her back to him and the piano, though she knew he was always looking at her.
When they finished the warm-up, she expected him to launch in to the song, but he stopped. She turned her head quizzically, to find him looking at her strangely.
"What?" It was out of character for her to be so direct, so rude, but he really wasn't worth the effort it took to be polite.
"Daidouji-san," he began, equally out of character- since when was she "Daidouji-san" again- "What are you wearing?"
She turned around. "This," she said, pointing to her clothing. "I never thought you were blind, Hiiragizawa-kun."
He smiled faintly. "Forgive me; I was wondering what you were wearing to the wedding," he said.
To the wedding.
She was going to be a bridesmaid, undoubtedly, though Sakura-chan had said nothing. She certainly wasn't the most organized of people.
"Whatever Sakura-chan picks out," she told him.
"But you'll change, won't you? For the reception?" he persisted.
"Why do you need to know?"
His smile widened. "I think you should wear something red. Something dark, and sultry, and-"
He stopped as she glared.
"I am not taking wardrobe advice from you, thank you very much." She crossed her arms in what she hoped was a final and businesslike manner, and said, "Now, can we begin practicing?"
"Why not?" He pouted.
He was scaring her. Hiiragizawa-kun smiling, and whistling, and pouting, and-
Flirting.
"Hiiragizawa Eriol, what are you doing?" she demanded.
He looked at her innocently.
Innocently!
But as her glare showed no signs of letting up, he decided to reply.
"I," he began with a flourish, "am trying to get in your proverbial pants."
She looked at him, stunned, then slapped him.
He stood abruptly, pushing the bench back quickly and taking one quick stride to stand in front of her. She found herself at eye level with his chest (she had a sensation of déjà vu), and tilted her head all the way back to look at his face. She found him looking very seriously down at her. Then he said, in an exasperated voice, "Can you honestly not tell, Tomoyo, when someone is trying to cheer you up?"
She looked away from him, cheeks reddening.
He put a finger under her chin, and lifted her face.
"Has it really been so long?" he asked gently.
Shrugging his finger off, she stepped away from him. "She tries," she said, shrugging. "And he tries. And sometimes my mother… but never from a boy…" She trailed off, looking down at the piano.
"A boy?" Somewhere in the back of his head, something twitched.
A boy, now was he?
"Yes, a boy," she affirmed. "Boys are… elusive."
"Elusive?" Twitch.
Elusive, to describe the throngs of boys in love with her?
"Sit down, please," he said.
She looked surprised.
He motioned towards the bench.
"Please," he repeated.
She eyed him suspiciously. "I'm the singer," she said.
"This has nothing to do with the song, Tomoyo."
She crossed her arms.
"Tomoyo, please," he urged.
"Why?" she asked.
He sighed. "I would like to clear a few misconceptions you seem to have about society. And people."
"Such as?"
"Such as the belief you harbor that boys are these mysterious, difficult to pin down people that won't go near you."
"They won't."
"Only because you're so obviously infatuated with Sakura-"
"Nobody knew."
"Shown enough hints, even boys will figure something out over time, Tomoyo. And given half a chance, any one of these… boys… would have gladly jumped at the chance to cheer you up. Which leads to your second misconception, which is that all males are boys."
She shrugged. "Males, boys, Hiiragizawa-kun, they're all the same."
"Boys, my dear Tomoyo, are pathetically immature creatures that resort to dirty jokes and ridiculous feats in a girl's presence in hopes of capturing her attention. I only lowered myself to such a level since I assumed you would be familiar with-"
"Hiiragizawa-kun," she interrupted, "While you may like to place yourself on a pedestal, somewhere high above the rest of society, being half the reincarnation of Clow Reed, (which, I might add, only contributes to your arrogance) you are just the same as all of the b-"
His mouth on hers silenced her.
She stiffened.
She had never been kissed by a boy…
And yet, instinctively, as she relaxed infinitesimally, she knew that this was not a boy's kiss. This was not a chaste, artless, essentially meaningless kiss. This was…
Oh god, Sakura-chan.
She pushed him away.
Author's note: Well. Wasn't that a fun place to end? I will finish this by the end of the school year if it kills me (unless, however, I die of the incredible stress of junior year and AP classes, in which case forgive me and pretend I'm Frank Herbert. AHAHA -;;). I know that last time I said I would finish by the end of the year, and I haven't touched this story in 9 months. I reread it many a time, but couldn't find the spark to keep going. So keep that in mind as you review (please ); a year has basically passed, and the story is changing directions, the mood is changing directions, and our dear, beloved characters seem to be mutating right before our eyes. OO (and bleeding a lot, it seems. I just reread it. Bloooooood… ooo. Aah.)
Yep.
To all my reviewers: Chocolates and chocolates and chocolates upon chocolates shall shower down up on you. (And if you're allergic, a candy of your choice )
Oh, and I really, really, really, really, really, really, really would love it if someone would be my beta reader. If you're willing, please leave your name/email thanks so much .
