Literary..
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Summary: Sakura is a famous fanfiction author. Syaoran is the best beta she's ever had. They share a world made of the words and tales they weave and write. But they don't know that they know each other...in real life.
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Full Summary: He promised he'd come back for her. She promised to wait for him. But a misunderstanding creates a giant rift between Sakura and Syaoran, enough to break the powerful friendship they once shared. To escape fate's blows, Sakura seeks solace in fanfiction and soon becomes a famous author on the busy Fanfiction Corner, under the alias Sayuri. She's lucky enough to meet Lang, and he becomes her greatest fan, faithful beta, and online buddy/soulmate. Wait until she finds out that "Lang" is really Syaoran, the cause of all her troubles...
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a/n: 244! Ah, I love you all. I really do. Keep it up, and I just may update before the new year... -smile-
This one's a bit short, but honestly, I would've gone emo if I made this any longer. I like to think of this as the fireworks!part of the story...which means things will slowly start to mend from the next chapter. Yup!
Read on!
Chapter Six. Chaos
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Sakura's POV
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For a moment, everything's black and spinning. My head whirls and pounds, my ribs feel crushed and useless against the impact, and my legs crack painfully as I land on the ground with a resounding thump.
The world comes to a momentary standstill as I fight for that first breath, trying to force some air into my squashed lungs. Slowly. Tenderly.
The pain sets in alarmingly quickly. I let out a gasp as something sharp pierces my side. It's like those stitches I get when I jump a hurdle too quickly, or run too fast without breathing properly, except this is a thousand times worse. Oh...
I'm jolted back to my senses when I hear something crunch in front of me. The power radiating off of it in waves is incredibly strong. I can't believe just how strong this thing is -
Get up, Sakura.
I try to open my eyes first, astonished at how much of an effort it is to just lift my eyelids. There's a bright light in front of me, too bright, and I shut them immediately. All I can see is red, from the light seeping through my scrunched-up eyes.
Get up.
I try to open them again. Against the light I see a dim outline of a girl, about my age. She's a bit taller than me, hand on her hip thrust out defiantly. Her entire posture speaks of a challenge. Her chin is tilted upward arrogantly and I fancy a slight smirk on her face. Her hair's long, falling to her knees in two long odangos.
Meiling? I wonder, surprise numbing all pain as my eyes widen and I jump to my feet with an agility that disconcerts me. I throw my hands in front of me defensively, trying to discern the girl's features. She looks a lot like Meiling, but I have to wonder. The last time I saw her, we parted as, if not friends, then at least not rivals. I think.
So why would she attack me now?
I gaze at the girl's oddly bright face, feeling sensations of odd familiarity wash over me as I grow accustomed to the light radiating off of her in waves. And then, as I sense her power level spiking again and sense rather than see her fist move toward me in a crashing blow, I realize.
This isn't Meiling at all.
I duck under the girl's fist as it crashes to where my head had been just seconds earlier. Her other fist comes swinging out of nowhere, barrelling toward my sides. I trap it with both of my hands before her foot flexes and connects with my arm. I trap her foot between my arm and my side, and catching her off-balance, send my own elbow crashing onto her collarbone. She falls to the ground, winded momentarily.
The light dims briefly, and I glance at my opponent's face. My hunch is confirmed as I take in the girl's pale blue skin, her long white hair, her abnormally large fists...
"Fight," I breathe, feeling a definite bout of nausea overwhelming me as I remember the last time I encountered the Fight Card. I remember how Meiling battled it and how I narrowly escaped last time only because Tomoyo had thought of the Power Card -
But what's going on? I ask myself desperately, moving back as Fight jumps to her feet and assesses me with a shrewd look in her eyes.
Something definitely doesn't add up. I captured Fight ages ago. Turned her into a Sakura Card years ago. She's supposed to be at home under Kero's protection right now.
So what the hell is she doing out here, picking fights with me, of all people?!
I let out an involuntary yelp as Fight moves in and throws a punch in my direction with lightning speed. I duck under her punch again, knowing I won't be as lucky as I was the first time. My only option is to take cover until I know what's going on.
Feinting, I dive for my opponent's foot, catching it and tripping her head over heels. Before she can react, I slip out of the tangle and flee off the pathway, into the snow-covered brush. The sky darkens rapidly as I reach blindly for the chain around my neck, the key that's been hanging docilely against my heart for all these years. The key I've almost forgotten about.
Wordlessly, the key transforms into my staff. I barely have time to do much else before Fight materializes a foot in front of me and charges toward me. I point my staff at her and think, fire, with all my strength.
A burst of flame explodes from the end of my staff, blasting Fight six feet into the air. She lands sprawled in the middle of the pathway, dazed.
Halt, I command the flames, which are circling the brush alarmingly quickly. The last thing I need is for all of Tomoeda to burn down while I try tame this – mutinous little Card.
I step onto the path, directly in front of the fallen Fight Card. I wonder whether I should move in for the kill, or simply bind her here now and go home to ask Kero for advice...
That moment's indecision costs me a lot, as in the blink of an eye, Fight disappears from view. I'm left standing there, staring stupidly at the empty ground in front of me, before something slams forcefully into my back again, and I land not too gracefully on all fours. The staff slides four feet away from me.
I spring to my feet, scooping the staff in my hands, and turn to face Fight, who's coming over me with a volley of kicks and punches. I gasp, trying to evade them all.
Lightning, I think feebly, sending a shock of bright blue sparks down Fight's arm as it sinks into my stomach. I don't even stop to check whether I've hit her or not. I close my eyes and summon the Jump Card's powers. Within seconds, tiny pairs of wings have appeared on the backs of my shoes and I take flight from there as fast as I can.
As I grow accustomed to the feeling of flying from treetops to rooftops, and as the town grows smaller and smaller, I'm acutely aware of something in hot pursuit. I can hear Fight's footfalls mimicking my own, as stealthy and agile a predator that ever existed. I thank Kami-sama that Fight doesn't have any elemental powers like I do.
Almost in response, something white hot streaks by me, grazing my cheek. I shriek, landing heavily on a rooftop not too far from my home. There's a burn on my face. Six feet away from me, Fight lands quietly, the palm of her right hand smoking ominously.
She can shoot fire, I think to myself in a daze, my hand still against my injured face. She's super strong, she can disappear into thin air, and she can control fire. What the hell has Kero done to her?!
You'd think that, being the Cardmistress and all, I'd be perfectly capable of handling any odd thing that came my way, including a rogue Card here and there. But, it's been years since I've even unsealed the wand and I most certainly haven't been practicing my magic as diligently as I did in the years after creating the Sakura book. So, as I stand here and see the darkness in Fight's angered, defiant eyes, I'm most definitely scared.
I move my wand defensively, clutching the thick pink baton with both hands warningly.
"Go back," I say, in a voice as commanding as I can get it to be under the circumstances. "You shouldn't be here at this time."
It sounds strange, but I've actually managed to talk to some of the Cards before, and they listen. But somehow, I get the feeling that there's no point reasoning with Fight.
My instincts are sound at least, as Fight flexes her left fist and sends a ball of crackling blue light in my direction.
Shit. Reflexively, I conjure up a shield, and the sphere of energy ricochets off of it and into the night. Fight glances at it lazily. Me, I'm jarred from my wrists up to my shoulders. The sheer power behind Fight's attacks astounds me beyond belief. Just when did she become so powerful?!
"Go back to your true form," I warn her. My words sound hollow in my ears. I can't believe how weak I've become. How could I have been so careless?! How?!
She tosses her head arrogantly before charging toward me again. She shatters through the shield I've put up with some effort (to my credit), and gasping, I jump back a step before she launches herself upon me, her limbs pounding against my own.
Power Card, I think with all my strength, parrying her fists with my wand, which feels more and more like a bright pink stick than anything else, lend me your magic.
It must be working, because I can feel my muscles strengthening, my speed quickening. And when Fight draws back to land the final blow, I kick her in the gut, sending her flying twelve feet away.
She lies there, spread-eagled across the cold rooftop. I wonder vaguely about where I am before I wave my staff at her.
"Return to your true form," I command. "Fight Card."
Nothing happens. I feel panic eating away at my senses. What's going on? Why aren't my sealing powers working? The last time this happened – hell, this has never happened before – but the last time something close to this catastrophic happened, Eriol had been behind it. But Eriol's over here in Tomoeda, and he's on my side now. I think...
Fight jumps to her feet and dashes toward me. This time, I'm ready, panic and Power's magic combining to lend more speed to my limbs than ever before. I meet Fight in her headlong dash, blocking her oncoming fists, taking the few blows she lands on me with relative ease, and landing a punch or kick here and there. I drive an elbow into the small of her back and she falls. I raise my staff, preparing for a final attack when Fight suddenly raises her arm and sends a wave of – well – something flying at me.
Waves of immeasurable power pound against me, driving me back until I fall to my knees. Kami, the pain! The pain! I feel like I've been concussed; like I've broken every single bone in my body. Deep ringing sounds are echoing in my head and I think I see stars dancing in front of my eyes...
Get to your feet, I think to myself disconnectedly.
That would be a good idea, but my feet won't move. I'm telling my limbs to move, but they won't listen to me. I can't even feel the pain anymore. This wouldn't be bad, actually, but Fight's getting to her feet and surveying me like a cat does to a mouse once it's cornered.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Fight stretches her arms outward, and throws them violently in my direction. I see the hot white flames propelling directly toward me, and I can't even move because numbness and fear have paralyzed me, holding me motionless in the path of this raging inferno.
I shut my eyes and throw my hands up, shielding my face as I await the scorching pain of the white hot fire, preparing to be burned to ashes and cinders...
But it never comes.
Instead, I hear a loud fizzing sound, just inches away from my face. Clouds of steam assault my skin and nose, and I cough violently.
...but nonetheless, I'm still alive.
What happened?
I open my eyes tentatively, fearing to see Fight's frenzied eyes inches away from my own, her smirk the last thing I see. But all I see are clouds of steam, dying embers and pools of water. Flowing water.
My mouth goes dry as I lower my arms. Almost too late, my senses warn me of another presence, whose power is just about equal to that of the Fight Card.
My hands tighten around the staff as my head snaps sharply to confront whatever it is that's standing there. I'm terrified that it might be another mad Card: maybe Watery or another Card even more dangerous than Fight.
But my heart skips a beat when I see a figure step out of the shadows, its clothing unremarkable, its hair and eyes tinted curiously golden in the dying twilight.
And, curse all the clichés in the world with a murderous vengeance right now, because who else would be standing there looking so calm and utterly composed, but Syaoran himself?
Syaoran, I try to call out, but my voice betrays me, deserting me completely. There's no more air in my lungs, and I can feel the ground beneath me swaying.
Although that could be partially because Fight is charging Syaoran, and he's fighting the Card probably even better than I had been with the aid of the Power card.
My mind is reaching new levels of confusion. What's Syaoran, of all people, doing here, and why did he suddenly jump into the fray? Could it be that – but I don't have time to ponder, or think, or do anything at all. Besides jump to my feet and send the strongest wave of – I'm not sure what it is, exactly – but something toward Fight as it pulverizes Syaoran's defenses and lands a blow to his upper arm.
I see shock written in his face as he jumps back. Fight isn't so lucky. She gets caught in my wave of dark energy, and when she finally collapses, I sink to my own knees. Oh, I've experienced battle weariness before, but this is something new. I feel so drained, so empty. As though all the vital energy's been sucked out of me and I'm just hollow.
But my work here isn't done yet. I'm aware that this stillness won't last, that Syaoran's looking at me impatiently, waiting for me to finish my job.
"Return," is all I can manage in my weakness. But it'll be enough. It has to be enough. And sure enough, finally, streams of pink light surround the Fight Card, and slowly, it transforms into the pink, rectangular Sakura card. I hold my breath as it floats toward my outstretched fingers, and falls to the ground softly.
I exhale sharply, dropping the sealing wand and lowering my head. I've never felt this exhausted before, not even after the Final Judgment or Eriol's last test. I take shallow breaths, cursing my crushed lungs and my aching muscles and my burning, stinging cheek coupled with the innumerable bruises forming on my back, my stomach, my sides, my arms...
Chivalry is dead, as Syaoran doesn't say a word or move a muscle. He just stands where he is, and I know he's looking at me, because I can feel his penetrating gaze burning a hole through the top of my skull.
Long moments of silence pass, during which neither of us say a word or move a muscle, save for my uneven, shaky breathing. It's far from comfortable; I think there's little elsewhere in the world I wouldn't rather be at this moment...
At length, I'm able to regain control of my limbs. My fingers close weakly around the sealing wand and it retakes its original form, a warm key hanging around my neck. Then I struggle to my feet, feeling the world sway alarmingly around me as I do. I stagger, but regain my balance before hesitantly meeting his eyes.
Syaoran's staring at me curtly, his shrewd amber gaze calculating, assessing. I'm scared to look into his eyes too deeply, for fear of what I might find. Disgust. Contempt. Hatred, probably. Or even worse, compassion, concern, fear...
I needn't have worried. There's nothing in his face. Nothing.
Of course, I say to myself with a bitter laugh. This isn't the same Syaoran from years ago. This is a Syaoran who doesn't care about you at all, a Syaoran who'll step into the fight only to prove something of himself once more -
I sigh before turning around, preparing to leave with as much dignity as I have left. There's nothing for you here...
"Wait," I hear him say suddenly, his voice so clipped and commanding that I stiffen uncomfortably. Then, I turn to face him, the question in my eyes.
There's no giveaway of anything he may be feeling as his hard amber gaze scrutinizes my face, taking in the burns, the bruises, the pallor, the sheer utter exhaustion -
"Come with me," he says – no – orders.
I tilt my head to the side questioningly, ready to resist him if I only had the energy, but he doesn't have the patience for that. All he does is cross his arms against his chest and turn around, beginning to walk away at his usual brisk pace.
He doesn't even wait for me. Typical.
Thankfully, I don't collapse or do anything stupid or embarrassing before Syaoran stops in front of his house. Although, there was a bit of a tense moment when he simply leapt down from the rooftop to the ground in one smooth motion and watched me coolly as I tried to follow suit and ended up crashing into the ground with more force than I'd expected. Not a sound came out of my mouth, but his sharp eyes caught the wince of pain spreading across my face as I rose to my feet, and as my eyes met his defiantly, I fancied I saw his lip curl. Then he turned away and continued walking a good twelve paces ahead of me, and I straggled behind. My ankle was beginning to throb but I'd endured worse before.
As I stop in my paces and look around me, I begin to understand why Syaoran of all people had shown up in the middle of my epic battle with the Fight Card.
We'd landed on his roof.
I don't even have the energy to curse Kami-sama for my rotten luck. Or the time, for that matter, because Syaoran pushes the gates open and strides through them. I glance at him, more than slightly uncomfortable. He's going home. Am I supposed to follow him, or do I just assume that our paths are meant to separate right here, and I'm supposed to go home and put all this behind me and maybe pretend that this never happened -
"Well?" Syaoran cuts through my thoughts impatiently, his hand still holding the gates open.
I bite back the sigh and the angry retort that overwhelms me as I make my way to the gateway. Well, at least he has the decency to hold the door – or gates, rather – open for a girl...
My hand shoots out as the gates swing toward my face suddenly. Straightening myself, I glimpse him walking down the bare, tree-lined avenue that leads toward his front door, hands in his pockets, his back squarely facing me.
So much for decency! I think to myself indignantly, slamming the gates behind me perhaps with more force than was necessary, because they swing shut with a resounding crash and the gates encircling the entire property begins to rattle.
Maybe I do it because I want to elicit some response from him. I want him to acknowledge the fact that he's brought me here, to his house, against my will, and he's treating me horribly. I'm not even trying to get him to recognize how wrong he is, or just how much I hate him at this moment, but still, anything, even one word from his mouth, would be so much better than this awkward, awkward silence -
The front doors open silently, the giant double doors swinging outward smoothly before Syaoran even reaches it. To any outsider, it seems as though the unfairly large mansion is welcoming him home, a battle-weary soldier or prince, perhaps. But to me, it seems as though those doors open into an abyss of swirling black, a place of damnation from which there's no return. A place determined to judge all the wrongs I've committed in my life and exact retribution for every single one of them. And the ominous sounds of my footfalls – and his – echoing around the palatial, darkened interior does little to quell my uneasiness.
"Where is everyone?" I ask suddenly, noting the absolute silence and absence of other living beings. "Meiling, Wei-san, your servants -"
"Out," Syaoran answers, his voice cold. He doesn't even turn around to look at me, or move a muscle, for that matter. He just keeps walking, leading me out of the foyer, through an ornately decorated hallway, up a grand spiral staircase, and down another hallway before he finally stops in front of a door.
I've never been in this particular region of Syaoran's house before, but I have a very definite inkling of where we are right now. And as Syaoran pushes the door open and steps inside, I follow him to see a place I've always wondered about, these long years since.
His room.
He has a beautiful room, although I'd always imagined it to be more luxurious and spacious, with martial arts trophies and medallions adorning every vacant surface, and priceless swords and magical trinkets festooning the walls. The entire chamber is painted unforgiving green, as was to be expected, and a pair of sheathed swords are pinned against the far wall, above his bed's headstand, but that's it for my imagination. Instead, the room is almost cozy, with watercolours in pastel frames hanging from the rest of the walls, and papers neatly stacked on his chestnut desk, and a gleaming, state-of-the-art PC installed against the window -
The gauzy emerald drapes are pulled back, and I can see the night sky from where I'm standing. It's a beautiful sight, all inky black with twinkling little stars and a glowing crescent moon shining just above my house -
It strikes me that I'm staring at my bedroom window. It's small, but it's definitely mine. And the lights are on.
Who turned those on? I think to myself urgently, starting for the window. The electricity's running, and we can't afford many more expenses! What are they thinking?!
Syaoran probably notices that I'm staring at my home with more of an intensity than he'd banked on, because in a trice, he pulls the drapes closed, plunging the room into a dim half-light.
At this moment, I decide I've had enough. I've put up with enough of Syaoran's nonsense and his cold, tight-lipped disapproval. Why the hell should I care if he's angry with me? Who is he to me, anyway? Not a well-wisher, and definitely not a friend, at this rate.
"I'm leaving," I say firmly, though my voice comes out a bit hoarse.
Syaoran doesn't even stir, or turn around to face me for that matter.
"I'm going home," I say again, my voice coming out stronger.
The coward doesn't twitch.
"It's late and they're probably looking for me," I force myself to continue, determined to keep talking until he at least acknowledges my presence (if that's too much to ask for, considering he's the one that brought me here in the first place!) and then slam the door in his face. "Not everyone has the luxury of having a giant palace all to themselves, with no one in the world to worry about, or even care about, for that matter -"
I think I touch a nerve, because I see him stiffen.
I close my eyes, willing myself to remain calm. Apparently, that's the best response I'm getting from him tonight – or ever, because I'm never talking to this bastard again. Ever.
"Just..." I start, and my anger, exhaustion and sheer frustration consumes me for a moment. "Just go to hell already!"
And with that very eloquent parting, I turn on my heel and walk out of his room. Well, I reach the door before I hear his voice.
"Stop."
I freeze, before whirling around. He's turned around so that he's facing me, and his face is so pale and tightly controlled, it almost fazes me. Almost.
"Why?" I demand, crossing my arms against my chest.
He stares at me, his gaze piercing, cold, almost hungry. It unnerves me and leaves me weak at the same time.
"Why not?" he challenges softly, a shadow coming into his eyes.
I open my mouth to protest hotly, flex my fists so that I can throttle the life out of him – but then my eyes fall upon a picture affixed to the wall.
I must have been extremely blind or extremely preoccupied, because there's no way I could have ever mistaken this for a watercolour. It's a photograph framed in fading wood, an old photograph of two laughing children smiling genially into the camera. One of them is a boy, with striking amber eyes and a mouth split wide open with laughter. The other is a girl, pressed closely and comfortably against him, her short honey-tinted hair falling into her eyes, alight with happiness...
I blink twice and stare at it, my mouth gaping open like an idiot's.
"But..." I say stupidly, not even knowing what the hell I mean to say.
His eyes follow my gaze, to the photograph on the wall. His mouth tightens into a thin line, and his fists clench.
"And?" he interjects by way of response. It was his not-so-subtle way of pointing out to me that I was interfering in matters I had best keep my nosy self out of.
I shake my head and close my eyes, trying to will the picture out of my head, to forget that I'd ever seen it at all. But my insides were writhing with hope that I had quenched coldly the week after he had returned. The hope that maybe still, after all these years, he still had a place for me -
"Nothing," I say hastily, cutting myself off before I get carried away with myself. It's cruel, to have to keep your thoughts so controlled, to quell your hopes and curb your anxieties on these matters closest to the heart. But it's also cruel to have to stand here in front of the last person I want to be with at the moment, the one person I've longed for the most these long years since...
I see something curiously and wondrously close to hurt flashing in his eyes before they harden. His mouth seems like it's chiselled from stone, and when he speaks, his voice is like ice.
"Thought so," he says spitefully. In spite of the coldness emanating from him, the ferocious glare I'm sending him, and the waves of hostility crashing between us, he doesn't turn away and neither do I. It's as though we've come to an understanding; that we have come to terms with the resentment that's splitting us apart. And at the same time, we can't read each other at all. We know nothing about each other; nothing except this frozen bitterness, this yawning indifference. Nothing except the biting fact that we used to know each other when we were younger and, for some strange, inexplicable reason, that intimacy collapsed on itself. And it hurts, to stand here and glare at him, with my blood frothing in my veins over his words and actions, and my mind processing bright and happy memories of what things between us were like when we were younger, and my imagination producing vivid images of what could have been -
"What was that back there?"
I blink and come to my senses abruptly. Syaoran's taken a step back, but his arms are still crossed and his gaze is still hard.
"What was what?" I ask stupidly, knowing full well what Syaoran wants to talk about and remembering the last time we had come to blows over the Cards. It had been when we had first met, when we didn't know anything about each other except competition and threats. How long it took for the cycle to come full circle, for us to become complete strangers once again. Because the two of us standing here are like unknown individuals meeting for the first time. That's how estranged we are.
"You know what I mean," he answers in a low voice, his eyes narrowing. "You were trying to fight something. What was it?"
What kind of a question is that? He's seen the Fight card before, he's fought the Fight card before, and he even saw me transform it into its original form! He knows that it was one of my Cards. Why is he asking me this if he already knows the answer?
"It was the Fight card," I let out through gritted teeth. "But I'm sure you knew that already."
There's a charged silence as Syaoran stands absolutely still, his eyes and facial expression giving away nothing.
"I thought it was," he says slowly. "But why was the Fight card fighting you of all people?"
Now how the hell am I supposed to know? I reply waspishly in my head. Outwardly, I cross my hands across my chest and glare at him.
"None of your business," I snap.
Syaoran raises an eyebrow.
"You don't know, do you?" he asks, his lip curling contemptuously again.
"That's also none of your business," I retort stubbornly.
We glare at each other for a moment. I think I can feel electricity crackling in the air between us.
"And if I hadn't shown up," Syaoran says suddenly, and I feel myself stiffen defensively, "and you'd been burned to ashes -"
"I don't owe you anything," I say flatly, recognizing where this conversation is going.
"I don't need anything from you, anyway," he returns. "What could someone like you possibly understand about – about -"
"About what?" I ask with a slight scoff. "Debts? Magic? Friendship, maybe?"
He gives me a puzzled look, but doesn't say anything.
"If that's the case, then I suggest you look back a few years," I say coldly, amazed at how much of an effort it is to keep my voice steady. "I think I saved your skin more than enough times to make up for today -"
Syaoran lets out a bitter laugh, and I freeze.
"So we're taking accounts of everything we did when we were younger?" he asks, somewhat dryly. "I thought we were friends back then too."
I open my mouth wordlessly. The nerve of him, to comment so sarcastically on those years that we had shared! Somehow, I thought it was something we both treasured, but from the looks of it, he regrets every moment he had spent with me.
And that hurts so much...
"I'm amazed that you even know what friends are," I say in a low voice. "You don't respect anyone enough to come close to it -"
"At least I keep my promises!" Syaoran bursts out.
Once the words are out of his mouth, he cringes slightly. I blink once, twice, trying to make sense of it all. His promises? What promises?
"What in the name of Kami-sama are you talking about?" I demand, feeling a little sick in my stomach. It's getting late, I'm exhausted and sore all over, and I have to get home because the lights are on and the bills are mounting, and Syaoran sure as hell isn't paying for them -
"So you don't remember," Syaoran says, in a voice so dark that I can barely recognize it.
"I remember everything, Syaoran," I answer, and my voice is starting to quaver. "Everything. You're the one who changed things around here, not me -"
Syaoran laughs harshly again, and I wince.
"Me?" he asks sarcastically. "All I did was come back to Tomoeda, just as I promised. But you – you don't recognize it because you're the one who's changed around here! You've shut out all your friends, you mess around with that Yamame guy all the time and to top it all off, you've gotten so weak, it's pathetic!"
I take a step back, his angry words echoing in my ears. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, because everything he's just said is so wrong and so – damned – messed.
"Just who do you think you are?" I whisper, feeling hot tears burn in my eyes. "Why does it matter to you, anyway? Maybe once upon a time, we were friends, but you changed everything between us the day you came back to Tomoeda -"
Syaoran's expression changes to one of outrage.
"What are you talking about -"
"Don't interrupt me!" I explode. "Just listen to me! For the last seven years you were in Hong Kong. Did you ever write to me? Did you ever try ask about how everything was here? Did you ever care to find out? No, you didn't! Every time you wrote, it was always about you, you and you!"
"I did care!" Syaoran protests. "I wrote as often as I could -"
"You expect me to believe that?" I ask harshly. "Come on, Syaoran. Just how busy were you? You couldn't take five minutes off your busy schedule to say hi to your best friend? You couldn't take a moment to just ask her about what her life was like?!"
"Well, considering you don't even tell Tomoyo about what goes on in your life, I doubt you'd tell me anything either!" Syaoran interjects.
I shake my head pityingly. Poor, poor misguided Syaoran. Kami-sama be kind to all women and never give him a wife.
"I would if you'd just asked," I say softly. "I would have told you anything, if only you wanted to know. But you didn't want to know. You were too busy. And – now, when it's too late, you're turning around and asking me to confide in you?"
"I never said that," Syaoran mutters. But his face is stark white.
"I don't care anymore," I retort. "I don't care what you say about me, because in your eyes, I never grew up. You just waltzed back into Tomoeda, expecting to just open up a chapter of your life and pick up where you left off. You never even considered the fact that things happened here when you were gone. You never even thought once about everything you just accused me of doing!"
His eyes are widening, and I think he means to interrupt me, but I don't let him speak. It's like a dam has burst inside me and everything is just rushing out. I can't stop this tirade from bursting forth, otherwise I might explode from keeping it all bottled up.
"And even after all that, I waited for you! I waited and waited, and even though you barely wrote, I waited for you. Even after everything changed, I thought you would come back and make it all alright, somehow..." My voice breaks.
Across from me, Syaoran's face has changed. His expression has darkened and his eyes seem somewhat guilty. But he's on his guard, as always.
"But you caved," he says finally. "Don't blame me for everything, Sakura. You went out with Yamame. You could have waited for one more day -"
"Oh, just shut up!" I snap. "Stop being such a hypocrite! If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous of Tarou! And anyway, you'd already ended things between us before I even said yes to – forget it. Why do I have to explain anything to you?"
I'm panting right now. How dare Syaoran act all offended right now? How dare he accuse me of not waiting for him? For Kami's sake, I visited him at his house in the freezing cold evening of the day he got back from Hong Kong! And what did he do? He slammed the door in my face! So how is any of this my fault? How did I change things? I waited for him, just as I promised. But if he wasn't willing to carry on the friendship...then shouldn't that mean that I was free to move on? Even though, technically, Tarou and I aren't even going out? (but if Syaoran doesn't know that, then it's his fault and he should learn to pay more attention).
"What are you talking about?" Syaoran asks, and he takes a step toward me. "I ended things? I didn't even see you until after you'd agreed to be that bastard's girlfriend!"
Hot rage floods through me, as I step up to him, so that we're almost nose to nose. So now he's going to pretend it never happened, then?
"You have a lot of nerve," I seethe. "I came to see you the very first day you came back to Tomoeda. I was tired, starving, and freezing cold, but I still came to see you. And what did you do? You turned your back on me and slammed the door in my face! Remember? 'You're not getting anything from here'? Those were your exact words, and if those don't spell out rejection, then I don't know what does!"
I give him a spiteful look before turning around on my heel. But before I can take one step away from him, I feel a hand grab me roughly by the shoulder and spin me around.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Syaoran hisses, pulling me up against him. "You never came to my house at all! I never saw you that evening or -"
I've had enough. I pull my hand back and slap him across the face.
He shuts up.
"Don't talk to me," I warn him dangerously, breathing heavily. I take a step backward, and then another step.
He turns his face toward me, and his eyes are hurt. This time, he doesn't even bother masking his expression.
"Sakura -" he begins, but I shake my head violently.
"You couldn't understand," I stammer, feeling myself back up against his door. The ground sways beneath me. "You couldn't."
And before the world crashes about me, I turn around and flee from his room, his house, and everything that has to do with him.
Only when I'm a safe distance away from his mansion, on the sidewalk, do I allow the tears to fall...
Disclaimer: CCS belongs to CLAMP, anything you don't recognize is a figment of my imagination. Oh, and my income is in pencil shavings, so you can sue me for those if you really, really want some... :P
a/n: Aww. Don't they both make you want to, like, grab them by the scruffs of their necks and bash their heads together or something:)
And just to clarify: yes, I'm aware that Syaoran was a jerk in this chapter. But there are two sides to every story, so don't hate him yet!
Of course, there is tranquility after every storm. -hint- I'm sure that once Syaoran mulls over things a bit, he might experience a change of heart-ish?
I was planning to go a lot further than this, but I didn't have the energy. Anyway, I think I should devote some of the next chapter to Syaoran's thoughts before going ahead with the plot (e.g. omg what happened to the cards like why did fight go psycho?!?) Haha...
Next Chapter: Syaoran turns his brain on. Sakura rushes home and finds things a bit topsy-turvy? Maybe an apology if you guys are nice and responsive? (wow, I can be bought over so easily...) Read about it in the next chapter, Bittersweet!
Please do review! I'm trying to maintain 30 reviews a chapter. Think you love me enough to do it for me?
:D
-Celestiana
