radio star

xi. a real person

"Syaoran? Hey, what's the matter?" Meiling watched as her cousin sat frozen, almost as though someone had paused him into place. She turned to the makeup artists, who were still working and turning a blind eye and deaf ear to what was happening. "Do you think you could leave us for a moment? I'll call you back in in a moment."

The makeup artists looked at each other quizzically, but they nodded wordlessly and left the tent.

"She messaged me," Syaoran finally muttered, his voice all but a low growl.

Meiling's brow furrowed. "Who? Not—"

"Yeah. Her."

"Wow," Meiling breathed. "After all this time? It's been over three months since you've even spoken!"

"Yeah."

"A text?"

"No, an email. I can't decide if I should open it," Syaoran said, his grip on his phone slackening as he felt his shoulders slump.

"Syaoran..."

"It shouldn't matter anymore," he said quietly, "should it?"

Meiling felt the simultaneous stirrings of sadness for her cousin and fury at his ex-girlfriend. It was difficult to watch him act so vulnerable and unsure of himself. She found herself wrestling with whether she should act as his agent or his friend first, and with a sigh, she decided she needed to do both.

Gently, she took the phone out of his hand. "I know you like to think otherwise, but you're only human, Syaoran. Of course it matters to you. That's okay. But, as much as I hate to play this card, you've got a job to do—and no matter what the contents of this email are, you won't be able to focus on this shoot unless you save it for after. I'll hang on to this, all right?"

Syaoran glanced up at her, and seeing the determination in her eyes, he found his own as well. He squared his shoulders and nodded. "Right. Let's get this over with."

Syaoran's professionalism never failed to impress Meiling, no matter how many times she'd seen it in action. Had she walked on to the set of the photo shoot late and not witnessed his reaction to Mizuki's email, she would never have known that there was a problem.

She watched as he expertly played off of the director's instructions, and on the screen of the computer that had been hooked up to the camera, she could tell that, much like the photos from his last shoot, these would turn out quite nicely. For someone who had landed himself in PR hell in the last half year, Meiling thought, he sure made it easy for her to help him get out of there.

"And that's a wrap!" the director shouted, a wide grin on his face. "Wonderful job, Syaoran!"

"Thank you, sir," Syaoran said with a bow of his head, and he proceeded to shake hands with the crew.

Meiling watched some of the art crew and the makeup team come up to him for autographs, all of which he signed with a smile on his face, and she felt a warm sense of admiration for her cousin in the pit of her chest. She always wanted to protect him—from paparazzi, from people who would take advantage of him, from anyone who would hurt him at all—but in instances like these, it was easy to see just how strong he actually was.

And yet, that made her want to protect him even more.

Sakura rolled over in her bed, frowning as she shut her eyes and let her thoughts wander. Something very strange and different had happened today, but she couldn't place her finger on just what.

She went to the moments where Syaoran played "Diver," his eyes closed and raw emotion on his face as he sang in that beautiful, rough voice of his. She would never have said it to him—his ego was big enough as it was—but she found that it was nearly as beautiful to watch him play the song as it was to hear him sing it.

Not long into their acquaintance, Sakura had developed an admiration for him, not because he was famous, but because of the qualities she'd witnessed that had made him so—his work ethic, his determination, his intelligence, his sensibility, his judgment. But seeing him sing truly was something else. It stirred a different kind of feeling in her. She almost wanted to say she had a bit of a rock star crush on him, but as soon as the thought even began to form, she hurriedly squashed it back down into the recesses of her mind, both out of a sense of embarrassment and a realization that it was fruitless to feel anything beyond friendly fondness for him.

But what about him? a nagging voice asked in the back of her mind. What about what he said to you?

It had been peculiar...

"Not when it comes to you."

Remembering the intensity of Syaoran's eyes on her as he'd said those words made her feel a sharp ache in the pit of her stomach. What had he even meant by that?

Sakura groaned in confusion. She felt safe calling him a friend now, but she'd never quite had a friendship like this before, celebrity aside. So what were they?

Sakura's phone rang loudly on her bedside, startling her out of her reverie. Reaching over blindly, she felt around until she grabbed the phone and held the screen to her face to see that it was Tomoyo.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Sakura! Sorry I missed your call earlier. I was just adding some finishing touches to my portfolio for tomorrow's interview in my office, and my phone was in the bedroom."

"Oh, right! How's that going?" Sakura asked, rolling over onto her stomach.

"Pretty good! I think everything is ready, but gosh, I'm so nervous—whenever I think about it, my palms get sweaty—"

"Relax, you're going to do fine. I have yet to hear anyone say anything bad about your designs!"

Tomoyo was scheduled to present her designs tomorrow in an interview with MIA, a top Japanese fashion house who'd expressed an interest in her work since her last year of college. Sakura was happy for her friend and felt the very joy that Tomoyo expressed the day she'd been notified of the interview, and she had no doubt that Tomoyo would get the job and excel in it. She did, however, have some difficulty ignoring how pathetic she felt when she put the state of her own career beside her best friend's. Even with the satisfactory pay and the development of her friendship with Syaoran, Sakura was most definitely not where she had planned or hoped to be at this stage of her life.

"Oh, you're probably right, I should probably stop fussing... Anyway, how was your day?"

"It was okay," Sakura responded, her voice sounding muffled as she rested her head on her pillow.

"Why do you sound so dead?" Tomoyo asked with a giggle.

"I'm emotionally and physically exhausted," Sakura said, and she laughed a little at how dramatic that sounded.

"Emotionally? Did something happen today?"

"I guess you could say that..."

"Wait," Tomoyo gasped. "Did you see him again?"

"Who?" Sakura said innocently, pursing her lips. She'd forgotten to inform Tomoyo of their next meeting, and she knew her friend would throw a fit once she found out—

"You know who!"

Sakura sighed as she lifted her head and rested on her forearms. "Yes, but please don't get mad, I meant to tell you that we were going to meet and I honestly just forgot, things have been so crazy—"

"Skip the preamble and spill the details!" Tomoyo said, her voice rising in pitch.

Sakura held the phone away from her ear, wincing, but she breathed a sigh of relief in knowing that this was about as severe as Tomoyo's reaction would be. She tried to find a reasonable way to tell the story so that Tomoyo wouldn't take it and run away with it with her overactive imagination, the way she usually did, but she knew that there was likely no avoiding that, anyway.

With a large intake of breath, Sakura launched into the story of how she had called Syaoran, initially just to talk—and then felt that the act was simply too intimate for the length of time and the depth in which they knew each other and, as a result, impulsively created an excuse of needing to see him for a photo shoot again. Much to Tomoyo's excitement, she revealed Syaoran's proposal to make their meetings a regular occurrence. She described their meeting, the songs he played her, their discussions and what she learned about him. For the first time since this had all happened, Sakura described her fears and insecurities about this whole process of getting to know Syaoran, of the very idea of even knowing him on an intimate level, and as she did so, she felt a great weight leave her shoulders.

Tomoyo responded with insightful yet soothing comments, providing understanding and empathy and a reassurance that Sakura's reactions were quite normal for such an abnormal situation. That was something Sakura needed, and she remembered at times like these why they had remained friends for so long. As much as Tomoyo liked to express her excitement through extreme enthusiasm and somewhat far-fetched conclusions, she knew that now was not such a time to do so—not when her best friend was genuinely confused and even a little frightened of what was happening—and Sakura was thankful for that.

However, when Sakura mentioned what Syaoran had said to her at the end of the evening and the strange, indescribable tingling that had remained so palpable between them through the entire car ride home, Tomoyo took some time to respond, so much so that Sakura had to ask if she was still on the phone. When Tomoyo finally did speak, she did so in a solemn voice that betrayed no joking or presumption.

"Sakura, I really—I think it sounds like he genuinely has some kind of feeling for you. Even if it's not romantic—although, if I'm being honest, I want it to be—it's special. I do think something else is happening between you guys... And I don't think you should shy away from it."

As Sakura listened to her friend with the phone pressed to her ear, her knees drawn to her chest, she couldn't help feel that warm, tingling sensation she had felt with Syaoran bloom all throughout her, causing goosebumps to rise along her skin.

It was such an improbable thing—and yet, Sakura thought, nothing that had happened between them was normal. Then again, she thought with a snort, it's not like he's exactly normal, either.

To call it romantic was taking it much too far, but Sakura felt a small but steadily growing part of her clinging to a hope that perhaps Tomoyo was onto something—perhaps Syaoran did find himself attracted to her beyond the realm of their friendship and their professional relationship. And in that hope, she realized that she had given in—she was, in fact, quite infatuated with him, and she suspected that it would only grow from here.

Well, this isn't dangerous or anything, she thought with a sigh.

Tomoyo seemed to hear everything Sakura thought in that one sigh, and Sakura could hear the gentleness in her friend's otherwise firm words as she spoke again. "I mean it—I know it's probably scary. But don't run away from this. Explore it."

"It is scary," Sakura conceded with a mumble.

There was a pause before Tomoyo spoke again. "I understand that it's an unfamiliar situation, since he's... Well, he's Syaoran Li. But... Sakura, it's also been awhile since Isamu, hasn't it?"

Sakura felt a slight churning in her stomach that, for once, had little to do with Syaoran. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I hardly remember what liking anyone even feels like," she said, and she couldn't help but laugh a little.

"It'll be okay. One day at a time. And I'm always here," Tomoyo said.

Sakura smiled. "Thanks, Tomoyo."

"Anytime." Tomoyo let out a long sigh. "You know, it's taking me a lot of effort to keep from screaming out loud at what's happening in your life right now! I'm practically bouncing in my seat," she said, giggling.

Sakura laughed at that. "I know, I know. You can let it all out next time you see me, I promise." She glanced at the clock. "It's a bit late—shouldn't you be sleeping so you can get up early for your interview tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I suppose I should go now. Wish me luck!"

"Good luck! Not like you'll need it, though," Sakura grinned. "Good night, Tomoyo!"

The two hung up, and Sakura lay back in her bed and turned off the lamp on her bedside, her mind abuzz with her conversation. By this point in her life, she was old enough to know that life changed very quickly and often threw curveballs that no one could ever even hope to see coming, but lately, almost nothing in her world was constant.

The biggest change of all—her rapid approach into unfamiliar territory with Syaoran—was exhilarating and frightening at once, for not only was it new, but it was also slowly working to loosen her grip on the pangs of her past.

And with that last thought, she drifted off into sleep.

"So, let me get this straight. You played her a song that you haven't even finished writing yet?"

"Yes."

"And you let her convince you to talk to Matsura about making this your next single?"

"Yeah."

"Syaoran."

"What?"

"You're in way over your head here," Eriol said with a chuckle, leaning back in his office chair.

Syaoran scoffed. "Don't be silly. She's..."

"What, a paparazzo? That hasn't seemed to stop you so far." Eriol's glasses flashed as he watched his friend with knowing eyes.

Syaoran had stopped by Eriol's after the photo shoot had ended to eat dinner and to distract himself from thinking about Mizuki's email, which he had yet to open. His plan hadn't worked out quite as well as he'd hoped; he could feel the weight of his phone in his pocket constantly, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he gave in and opened the message. Still, as Eriol and Syaoran had discussed the events of the day, conversation had turned to Sakura, which was just about as distracting a topic as Syaoran could think of. Eriol expressed immense interest in the subject of Sakura as well, even though he hadn't met her, because of her effect on Syaoran. He seemed to treat the topic with some amusement, much to Syaoran's irritation, but in all fairness, he knew that if Eriol ever told him that he was becoming involved with a paparazzo, Syaoran probably would have laughed, too.

Becoming involved? Isn't that jumping the gun a bit? Syaoran thought warily to himself.

"Stop me from doing what, exactly?" Syaoran said, eyes focusing on a building visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows just behind Eriol's head. He didn't know why, but he didn't feel comfortable meeting his friend's eyes right now.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Eriol said, and his grin only grew wider.

Finally, Syaoran let his eyes drift to Eriol's face, and he rolled his eyes. "You look ridiculous right now. Like a blue-haired Cheshire Cat in a business suit."

Eriol laughed. "Well, I'm thoroughly amused. It's an uncanny situation, don't you think? For someone who's so harmless and the length of time you've known her, it seems she wields quite a bit of influence over you."

"I mean... Yeah," Syaoran said, unable to argue with that. After all, when he was being honest with himself, it was true. But... "It's not like she's even telling me what to do, though. I think she's just able to see what I really want—which is crazy, because I thought I had a better poker face than that—and it just makes sense to her for me to go for it."

"Sounds like a girlfriend," Eriol said, the grin growing on his face once more. There was an almost unnoticeable tenderness in Syaoran's voice as he spoke of this girl, but knowing Syaoran as well as he did, Eriol was able to catch it almost immediately. Regardless of what Syaoran said, something was happening here—and he knew that Syaoran knew it, too.

Syaoran's eyes flashed as he glared at Eriol. "It's nothing like that."

Eriol shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with letting someone in every once in awhile, you know." He paused. "Well, I suppose it's different with paparazzi—but then again, it seems she's not your average paparazzo."

Syaoran sighed, visibly deflating a little in his chair. "She's not." He shut his eyes. "I mean... I don't know how I'm even supposed to feel about all of this—about her..."

"You're not. There is no 'supposed to.' You just...do. You can't help how you feel. What matters is how you react to it."

Syaoran smirked. "Where did you pick up that kind of wisdom?"

Eriol let out a pshh and waved his hand. "I was born with this wisdom."

"Well, then, impart some more of that wisdom on me. Mizuki contacted me today."

For once, Eriol seemed caught off-guard. "What?" he said, his eyebrows raised so high that Syaoran thought they might touch his hairline. "What did she say?"

"She sent me an email. I haven't opened it yet."

"She sent you an email? That's almost archaic, don't you think?"

Syaoran shrugged. "Knowing her, she probably thought texting or calling me was too personal."

"Well... Are you going to open it?" Eriol asked, unsure of what he wanted the answer to be. Although he had liked Mizuki while she had dated Syaoran, it was difficult for him to forget how Syaoran had fallen to pieces after she'd left, and so he felt a slight defensive bitterness towards her that he could not control.

"I don't know," Syaoran said quietly, his brow furrowed. "It shouldn't be such a hard decision, but I think I really need to think on it."

"Well, no one's pressuring you one way or the other," Eriol said reassuringly. It was always a little startling when Syaoran betrayed a moment of vulnerability. It was so unlike him that it made Eriol all the more concerned when he did. "Remember—you're not supposed to feel anything. You feel whatever you feel."

Syaoran exhaled and nodded. "Right."

"Well," Eriol said, leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on his desk, "it's been a ridiculously long day and there's been far too much serious conversation between us for one night. How about we go get a beer? On me."

Syaoran shook his head. "I wish I could, but I need to be in the studio pretty early tomorrow. Rain check?"

"Yeah, definitely. I guess I don't need to be going downtown, either... I have to get up early for some interview that I'm guest-judging tomorrow for a fashion house."

"Sounds riveting."

Eriol snorted. "Yeah, right. One of the original judges couldn't make it and I owe the head of the house a favor, so I'm filling in."

"What do you know about fashion?" Syaoran scoffed.

"What, my business suits don't count as fashionable?" Eriol said with a grin. "Nah, I think I'm just sitting in to judge the professional qualities of this girl more than her portfolio."

"Got it. So it's just one girl, huh?"

"Yeah, some girl who just graduated college last year—I don't even know why they're asking her to come in for an interview, I'm pretty sure the head designer is already in love with her and wants to hire her on the spot."

"Wow," Syaoran said, getting up and slipping his leather jacket on as he prepared to leave. "Any idea who she is?"

"Nope, not at all. But the interview is early in the morning, so she'd better make things interesting if she wants me to stay awake," Eriol laughed as he got up to see Syaoran to the door.

Luckily for Eriol, the interview had turned out to be quite interesting after all.

The interviewee, twenty-two-year-old Tomoyo Daidouji, was stunning, with black hair that seemed to shine violet in the light tied back into a loose bun and vivid amethyst eyes. Although she seemed to have a slight case of nerves, she had walked in greeted each of the interviewers confidently, and although he could have been imagining things, Eriol was almost certain that those very eyes had crinkled into a playful, subtle smile when she shook his hand.

Still, Eriol had seen plenty of gorgeous women in his lifetime, given his profession; it was only when Tomoyo spoke that he grew interested, and then, impressed.

Tomoyo not only appeared more than qualified for the job, but she was also quite witty and well-spoken, speaking with a charming air of knowing—as though she had an exciting secret to relay to whomever she spoke. By the end of the interview, Eriol had found himself harboring a slight schoolboy crush on her.

After she left and the judges discussed their decisions, Eriol tossed in a definitive "yes," submitted his notes to the head designer, and left to go to work.

Although he was certain that he would never see this girl again and thought it rather unprofessional to look up her number from her application and call her as he had briefly thought about doing, he mentally thanked Tomoyo Daidouji for making his morning rather fascinating, and he left it at that.

Sakura caught herself staring at her phone once more and hurriedly turned her face back to her computer screen, typing away at an article while half-listening to Chiharu's cheerful jabbering about this and that, a vacant smile plastered on her face.

It had been two weeks, and she'd had minimal contact with Syaoran. She had texted him a few days prior, after she'd submitted the last batch of photos, to tell him thank you. She had received an even larger sum of money than last time, and she couldn't ever recall feeling so financially free since she had started living on her own. While she was not wealthy by any means, the commission on top of her usual salary had allowed her to finally get things that she'd needed but had initially decided to make do without—stray pieces of furniture, months' worth of rent in advance, decent food, and so on. As much as she said it, she meant it—she felt like she owed Syaoran a lifetime for what he'd done for her.

He had responded with a brief No problem, and then, after that, Sakura did not hear from him for several more days. He'd finally called her again at the end of the week, but only to explain that he could not meet for quite some time, as he would start making promotional rounds soon and would have very little free time. He'd said all of this quite apologetically, but he'd been short and hurried, as though he weren't supposed to be on the phone at all, and somewhat startled by his tone, Sakura had allowed him to go with a mere, "Oh, sure, okay."

Syaoran had not contacted her since then, and Sakura had not tried to contact him, either, not wanting to bother him when he was busy. She tried not to let it bother her, for he was, after all, an incredibly busy person when he wasn't taking a hiatus, as he'd been doing when Sakura had initially met him. But she experienced a whiplash from the suddenness of spending one whole week seeing him almost on a day-to-day basis and then spending the next two not seeing him or hearing from him at all. As a result, she felt more foolish with each passing day at having thought that they were friends, and she felt even more foolish at having felt anything beyond that for him.

After all, she hadn't even known him for that long. And somewhere in the process, she'd allowed herself to forget the most important fact of all—that he was Japan's biggest rock star, and she was a paparazzo.

Two weeks had passed, and Syaoran still had not opened the email.

He'd done everything else to it that he possibly could without opening it—deleted it, heaved a sigh ten minutes later and retrieved it from his deleted messages, read the title backwards and forwards—but he simply could not bring himself to open it. It was a Pandora's box that he wanted more than anything to avoid; even if he couldn't call his current state of being normal, he was about as close to normal as he'd been for the last few months, and he had a feeling that the contents of that email would completely throw him off.

So, in the meantime, Syaoran had thrown himself into his work, surprising Matsura and even Meiling with the level of enthusiasm he put into his recording and songwriting and promotion efforts. He appeared on time to every appointment and meeting, completed every interview with a smile, and gave his all in every song. He'd even begun making his rounds on the variety show circuit without a word of complaint to Meiling, appearing on several and trying not to wince at the nonsensical atmosphere.

In doing so, he'd had to expand his bubble and lift his walls quite a bit, allowing himself to interact with more handlers, photographers, fellow celebrities, and variety show hosts than he had done in a very long time. In a way, it was nice—he'd forgotten how human he felt when he actually made the effort to be around other people, which clashed with his private and reserved nature. He'd been much more social when he was younger, mingling with fellow actors and then singers, and once he had started dating the much more sociable Mizuki, he'd had more friends than he'd ever had in his life. He'd allowed himself to become lost in all of it because Mizuki enjoyed it so much, but at the end of the day, he'd still quite enjoyed being alone or, if not alone, just with a select few good friends. All of it had gone to hell when the scandal had erupted. One by one, his friends had tapered off, either distancing themselves from him or allowing him to distance himself from them. When Mizuki had ended it with him, he had cut off contact with many of the remaining ones, most of whom he came across on this new promotional circuit. Thankfully, most were quite genial and supportive of him, offering him wishes of good luck and offers to meet up again soon.

Still, none of it made Syaoran feel quite as normal as he had with Sakura, whom he'd had neither the time nor the nerve to contact during his self-imposed descent into what he had come to call "distractive promotional hell." Although he wanted to call her, he found his desire to speak to her soured somewhat by the anxiety of Mizuki's unopened email. And each time after he wanted to speak to her or see her, he'd either been too busy or too confused—and he was quite tired of feeling confused—so he'd shoved it into the back of his mind, letting the thought come out only when he was in bed, half-asleep and too tired to make any sort of move to contact her.

He felt bad about it and hoped that he had not hurt her feelings, but it wasn't like he was going to avoid her forever—he just wanted to figure out his feelings and, really, he just wanted to have never received that damn email.

Finally, one night after a long day of recording and shooting another episode for another variety show, he sat on his sofa, phone in hand, and unable to take this restless ache in his chest any longer, he held his breath and opened Mizuki's email.

Hi, Syaoran,

I'm sure you're surprised to hear from me... To be honest, I'm a bit surprised that I'm messaging you, myself. If you don't respond for awhile, or if you don't respond at all, that's okay. I understand.

I'm in Thailand filming right now! It's so beautiful here, I wish you could see it. I find myself wishing I could tell you all about it more often than I thought I would, and, I don't know. It makes me miss you. I do miss you. A lot.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not looking for anything from you, and I don't expect anything from you. I know it was probably silly and stupid to message you like this. But if you're ever feeling up to it, I'd still really like to be friends. You were one of my best friends in such a key time of my life. I can't imagine my world without you.

I also want to apologize for how abruptly things ended between us and how little of an explanation I gave you when I left. I haven't heard much about you since then, and I hope you're doing okay. I know there was a lot of faith lost between us... I'm sure you lost a lot of faith in me, too... But maybe someday soon, we can leave it all behind us, and it could be like old times.

Oh, God, I don't know. I'm so nervous, sending this to you. I know you probably hate me and I've probably rewritten this stupid email like, five hundred times. I guess, in the end, it doesn't make a difference—what happened, happened, didn't it?

I'd love it if you responded. I understand if you don't. But regardless of what you do, Syaoran, please be well.

Take care,

Mizuki

With a sigh, Syaoran shoved the phone back in his pocket and leaned forward on his knees, rubbing his temples. He hadn't felt—or allowed himself to feel—this much emotion in quite some time. He was, all at once, elated, hopeful, furious, sympathetic, defiant, absolutely confused, and most of all, sad.

It had been more than he'd hoped for from her—he had expected her to simply avoid contacting him ever again—and yet, it was not satisfying to him in any way.

Still, he felt some form of relief in that it was over, that he had finally opened the email and read it and not spontaneously combusted like he'd thought he might. Unsure of what to do and suddenly very uninterested in going over his agenda for tomorrow like he'd planned, he decided to go to bed, although it was rather early.

But after rolling around for two hours with only his thoughts to drive him insane, Syaoran finally accepted that he would likely not fall asleep that evening. He rose out of bed with a groan and threw on sweatpants and a t-shirt, grabbed his keys, and headed to his car. Perhaps a drive would settle his thoughts.

Syaoran had taken his hand off the steering wheel and then put it back on at least a dozen times in the last three minutes. He had no way of explaining, even to himself, what he was doing here. He looked out through the windshield at Sakura's apartment building, where her windows were lit up. He wished they weren't, because then he'd have a reason to go back home.

But you do have a reason to go home: this is crazy.

He groaned and leaned his head against the steering wheel, letting his hands slide down to his lap and then back up to the ignition, where he gently turned the key and removed it. His car shut off, and with the noise of the car abruptly stopping, he sighed and leaned back in his seat. It seemed he had made a decision, whether he wanted to or not.

After shuffling through the contacts on his cell phone, he finally dialed the one he was searching for and held the phone to his ear, listening to it ring for a moment.

"Hello?" Sakura sounded surprised, which irritated him—hadn't he called her enough by this point for her to not be shocked by it?

Then again, you haven't called her in a week, he thought to himself, and suddenly, he felt like a jerk. He had a difficult time figuring out what to say, and so he remained silent for a moment.

"Hello?" Sakura said again, and then after a pause, she spoke again. Syaoran could hear the frown in her voice. "Syaoran? Are you there?"

He still couldn't find words, and he expected her to hang up, but her voice came through again, one more time:

"Syaoran... Is everything all right?"

With that, Syaoran let out an exhale, and without even thinking about it, he let the words tumble out of his mouth. "Are you busy?"

"Oh, good, you're there," Sakura responded with a sigh. "I thought maybe someone had kidnapped you and called me for ransom or something ridiculous like that. Although, I guess I can't see why they'd call mefor ransom money—"

The corners of Syaoran's lips lifted slightly as he cut her off. "You didn't answer my question."

A light laugh. "Sorry, I'm being silly. No, I'm not busy. What's up? I thought you were busy, so I wasn't expecting to hear from you for awhile."

He fiddled with a loose string on the hem of his shirt as he briefly weighed the impact of his next words. "I'm outside. Mind if I come in for a bit?"

Silence settled for a moment, and then Sakura's voice came more surprised than he'd heard it in a long time—since they'd first met, perhaps. "Outside—outside my apartment?"

"Yeah," he said, suddenly flustered, and he scratched his head. "I just... I went out for a drive, and then I ended up in this area of Tokyo, and then I just kind of drove here without really thinking... I know this is a little weird, so if I was interrupting anything, I can just go home—"

"No, no! Not at all. Uh... I'll be outside in just a second."

Click.

Syaoran stared at his phone a moment, taking a moment to ponder how surreal this was, and then he pocketed the phone and stepped out of his car.

"It's... It's not that great of a place or anything, I know," Sakura said nervously, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as Syaoran walked behind her, his eyes wandering.

"It's fine," he said, and he meant it. It looked comfortable, lived-in, tidy, he thought. It looked like a nice place to come home to. "It looks like you."

She sat down on a sofa in the living room and indicated that he do the same. "Thanks, I think," she said with a smile. "You helped me buy this sofa, you know."

Syaoran glanced down at the couch as he sank into its seat. "I did?"

Sakura nodded. "With my first few big paychecks from getting all those great photographs of you, I saved up enough to get a new one. The old one was a bit threadbare—I'd bought it secondhand from a garage sale, you see..."

She babbled on for awhile about this and that as Syaoran lay back into his seat, watching her face light up with her conversation and feeling physically and mentally more relaxed than he had in quite some time. It had been a strange decision to come here—but, he decided, it had also been the right one.

"So, anyway, that's enough of that," Sakura finished, smoothing her hands across her seat. She frowned a little and peered more closely at him. "Let's hear why you're here. It's not often that you're the one who comes tracking me down."

Syaoran sighed and closed his eyes. "We're friends. Friends visit."

She ignored the silly hope that started thudding back to life inside of her at the word and instead glanced at the clock. "At 11:30 at night?"

"Ah. It is pretty late, isn't it? Sorry if I'm keeping you from bed."

Sakura shook her head. "You're not. But I'm not joking—I want to know why you're here."

Syaoran opened one eye, looked at her, and then opened the other. "I'm sorry about not contacting you for so long."

Sakura's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh—uh, well, that's okay! I know how busy you can get, and I'm sure you're too busy and tired to put up with an mock photo shoots between promotion, so—"

Syaoran shook his head. "It was more than that. I mean... I was busy. I am. I haven't had any free time at all lately. But..." He frowned, and he looked over at Sakura, that ache evident in the glow behind his eyes once more. "I've... I guess I've been pretty confused, too."

Sakura found it hard to breathe, let alone speak, when Syaoran was looking at her like that, especially in such proximity, and so she kept her eyes ahead on the muted mini-television that sat across the room in front of the coffee table. "About what?"

Syaoran scratched his head. "I suppose I can't assume anything about what you know about me anymore," he said with a small chuckle, "but I was involved in a bit of a scandal earlier this year, and my girlfr—ex—and I broke up a little while after that. It was all over the news, but once again, when it comes to you, I don't know what you have and haven't heard about me—"

"That much, I knew," Sakura said, and she grew slightly red. "I researched you a little bit when I first got my job," she admitted.

"Ah. So you've heard the tidy media-friendly version then, have you?" Syaoran said, a wry smile on his face.

"I have. I... I'm kind of new to the gossip industry, though, so I don't really ever know what to believe and not to believe. I take it all with a grain of salt, I guess."

"That's smart of you," Syaoran responded, and he felt himself smile a little. "Maybe I'll tell you the whole story sometime later on, but the basics are out there, so you've probably heard all of it. The point is, we've been over for a few months now, and we haven't spoken since then."

Sakura listened intently, unsure as to why Syaoran had come all the way over here just to tell her this. He looked exhausted.

"A couple of weeks ago, Mizuki emailed me," he said slowly, carefully. "I couldn't bring myself to open it for a long time—not until tonight, actually."

Sakura paused, unsure of what to say. The moment seemed so fragile that she was actually nervous that she would say the wrong thing and shatter it to pieces. "Is it...is it okay for me to ask what she said?"

"She said she wanted to be friends," he muttered, leaning back into the sofa and staring at his lap. He scoffed and shook his head. "But it wasn't even like I could be mad, because she's always so damn honest, and I know she wasn't hiding anything in that message—she laid it all out there for me. She told me she was in Thailand, and that she missed me, and that she wanted nothing more than to be friends. She said she was nervous that I wouldn't respond, but that she would understand."

With a sigh, Syaoran raised his hands in the air in a gesture of cluelessness for a moment before letting them drop back into his lap. "What am I even supposed to say to something like that? How am I supposed to feel?"

Sakura bit her lip as she struggled with the sudden overwhelming urge she had to envelop him in a hug. In this moment, he looked more lost than she'd ever felt. "It's—it's okay, Syaoran. You're allowed to feel whatever you want to feel. So if you're angry, be angry, and if you're hurt, be hurt. And if you want to be friends, tell her that. And if you can't, it's okay," she said earnestly. She paused, trying to find the right words to say. "You're not supposed to feel. You just...feel."

Syaoran whipped his head over to look at her then, surprised by the familiarity of the words. This girl...

She blinked back at him, confused at the sudden look of surprise on his face.

Syaoran cleared his throat, choosing to ignore the coincidence for now and store it away for later. "Well, the point is—the point is, I've been really confused. I've had this anxiety about reading the message since I got it, and now that I've read it, I feel like I'm just more tangled up than before, and..." He looked over at her. "I felt confused when I thought about you, too."

"About me?" Sakura squeaked. You thought about me?

"Yeah," he said, smiling slightly at the sudden rise in the pitch of her voice. "I was just tired of feeling confused, and I really needed to focus on work—and so that's why I haven't spoken to you in awhile. I'm sorry," he finished, feeling somewhat ashamed.

"It's really okay," she breathed, and she caught herself reflexively reaching out to touch his arm to reassure him—but she stopped herself before he could see.

They sat in silence for a moment, until Sakura raised her eyes at Syaoran and pursed her lips, question burning on the tip of her tongue. "Syaoran?"

"Yeah?"

"Was it... Was it a bad confusion?" she asked, trying to ignore the blush that crept up her neck and to her cheeks.

Syaoran bit back a full-blown smile as he looked at her and shook his head. "No. Not really."

"Oh," she said lamely, and as she watched him watch her, his eyes searching her own relentlessly, she had to remind herself to breathe.

Finally, unable to take the tension, she stood up abruptly. "Well, you know what we should do?"

"What?" Syaoran looked up at her, somewhat confused and very entertained.

"We should just forget all about everything for now—that email and your work and my work—and just eat a big pot of ramen and watch funny TV shows," she said determinedly.

Syaoran laughed. Nothing had sounded so appealing to him in a long while. "Let's do it."

Sakura awoke to the sound of the television blaring in the background and her cheek pressed against something very comfortable. Snuggling closer into it, she inhaled its soothing scent and began to drift back off to sleep, until she realized something wasn't quite right.

She opened her eyes fully and pushed herself up, and her eyes widened at what she saw.

Syaoran Li was sleeping soundly on her sofa, and the upper half of her body was half-draped over him with her arms enveloped around his torso. The lower half was awkwardly squeezed between his legs and the back of the sofa. One of his arms was wrapped around her as well; their legs were entangled together. Ignoring her instincts to jump up and run away for fear that she'd wake him, she tried to calm the sudden pounding in her chest and wondered how she'd ended up in this situation. The sunlight streaming through the window indicated to her that it was early morning; their empty pot of ramen sat on the coffee table. They must have fallen asleep watching TV the night before, and somehow, she'd ended up sleeping on him. Glancing around in a panic, she wondered how to handle this. If he awoke and saw this, things would surely be awkward between them, but pretending to be asleep was out of the question at this point for her. She sighed and repressed a groan, and without thinking, she laid her head back against his chest before realizing what she'd just done and lifting it back up again in a hurry.

Her eyes caught sight of the expression on his face as he slept for the first time, and she stopped thinking for a moment. He looked more at peace than she'd ever seen when he was awake. His bangs scattered across his brow and slightly covered the lids of his eyes, and his lips were slightly parted as he breathed in and out, in and out. It was breathtaking.

Suddenly, she felt herself jerked downward, her head against his chest once again as the arm around her pulled her more tightly to him, and to her surprise, she felt him snuggle into their embrace, adjusting to create the most contact possible between their bodies. She let out a breath as she remained on his chest, and for some reason, she suddenly didn't feel a need to struggle her way off of him. It was nice, she thought, to be held like this again, even if Syaoran wasn't aware or even conscious. Somehow, the contact infused her with something she hadn't felt in a long time—intimacy, a sense of love and adoration and someone else's yearning to be close to her.

She shut her eyes, and for a moment, she let herself imagine that this was real.

The moment did not last for long, however, as Syaoran breathed in deeply and awoke seconds later, eyes squinting as he glanced confusedly around the room. He saw and felt Sakura in his embrace all at once, and he bit his lip as he cursed inwardly. He hadn't meant to fall asleep here.

"Sakura," he said gently, unsure of what to do.

Sakura opened an eye and lifted her head. "Hi," she whispered with a nervous smile. "You're awake."

"Have you been awake?" Syaoran frowned.

"Just for a few minutes," Sakura said hurriedly, and she mentally kicked herself as she realized how stupid she must have sounded. "I tried to get off of you, and you—uh—well, you pulled me back down and wouldn't let go," Sakura said, her expression something between an apologetic smile and a grimace.

"Oh, shit. I am so sorry," Syaoran said, scrambling to sit up and gently sitting her beside him on the sofa. He felt his ears get hot as he scratched his head. "I didn't mean for any of this—"

"No, no, it's okay, me, either. I guess we just fell asleep last night, and..." she trailed off.

"Yeah," was all Syaoran could reply, and then, as his eyes met hers, both erupted in laughter.

"God, what time is it?" Sakura said, grabbing her phone from the coffee table. "I hope I'm not late for work..." She breathed a sigh of relief as she looked. "It's seven. I've got a couple of hours."

"Oh, good, me, too," Syaoran muttered. "I really thought Meiling would kill me for a second there."

"Meiling?"

"My cousin. And my PR agent," Syaoran explained as he stood up. "She runs a tight ship."

"Ah." Sakura stood up as well, shutting off the TV as she did so, and tried not to scream when she saw her reflection in the screen. She looked terrible. As casually as she could, she ran a few fingers through her hair as she spoke to Syaoran. "So, uh—do you need any coffee or anything like that?"

"No, don't worry about it. Thank you, though. I need to get home and shower before I go to the studio."

"I see," Sakura said, and as she walked him to the door, she caught her reflection one more time and gave up on even trying to improve her disheveled appearance.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Syaoran said uneasily as he stood at the door. "It was silly of me to come here and just interrupt your night, and—"

"No," Sakura said, shaking her head vigorously. "It was...comfortable," she said, remembering the closeness between them, the scent of him as she'd awoken.

Syaoran looked at her for a long moment, and just as she had the night before, she watched him watch her, unable to tear her eyes away from his, before she finally realized what was happening. Blushing, she laughed nervously and looked away.

"You know something?" Syaoran said softly. His brown eyes, still trained on her face, were alight in the morning sun.

Sakura felt something inexplicable building up inside of her as she waited for him to continue. "Wh-what?" she murmured, almost scared to hear what he would say.

"You..." he paused, hesitant for the briefest moment, and then he exhaled softly and forced himself to go on. "You make me feel like I'm a real person," he said, his brow furrowed. He didn't look at her as he said it, but rather down at his own hands, as though he were realizing suddenly that something was very wrong with him. He looked so pained, so vulnerable, and Sakura felt a near physical need to hold him.

She resisted; somehow, even though they had literally slept together, it felt like too big of a boundary to cross.

"Oh, Syaoran..." She bit her lip. "With or without me, you are a real person." She smiled. "If it were possible, I'd say you were one of the realest."

Syaoran chuckled, and all traces of sadness were suddenly gone from his face. "I appreciate that."

And then, very carefully, he reached out and brushed a strand of Sakura's hair from her face, leaving her stunned and breathless as she watched him.

"I'll see you later, Sakura."

And with that, he was gone.

Dazedly, Sakura shut the door and stumbled back to her sofa and sat back down, hugging herself. She was having difficulty registering all that had happened in the entirety of Syaoran's stay at her apartment. Of course, his words and touch confused her greatly, but surprisingly, that wasn't the first coherent thought to occur to her.

Rather, her first immediate thought was that perhaps Syaoran Li was far more broken than he had ever let on to anyone, and that she wanted to do everything in her power to fix that.

There it is! So, quite a bit has happened here, eh? I apologize for the length of the chapter. I did think the first half was a bit necessary, but man, it was much easier to write the SxS parts.

So! Eriol and Tomoyo have met. Both Sakura and Syaoran have acknowledged to themselves that they certainly feel something for each other. And now, Syaoran needs to deal with his deepening feelings as well as Mizuki's not-so-black-and-white return to his life. Or will he even accept her again? We shall see. And Sakura learns to deal with her self-doubt and her own feelings for Syaoran. If all goes according to plan, the next chapter will explore some more regular communication between Sakura and Syaoran as they get back on track with their friendship, and Eriol and Tomoyo meet yet again. Le gasp! Is it fate?

Thank you guys so much for all of your support! As silly as it sounds, writing fics here has been such a huge part of my life. Sometimes, it's discouraging to come back because the CCS fandom in particular used to be so lively and has died down quite a bit, but you all keep me coming back, even if it takes me awhile! I update with blurbs and goodies on my fic tumblr more frequently, so follow me there if you haven't. (boreum-dal on tumblr, and the link is in my profile.)

And one last thing—I'm going through and editing the old chapters of this story as well, so some things (but no vital pieces of information) are subject to change. I've also uploaded a short oneshot drabble called Angel, so if you'd like, go check it out! Thanks again, and please leave a review on your way out!

Till next time,

boreum dal