Summary: What if you have a chance to go back to your past and change your life? What if you can live your life differently, make new choices? Will it make a difference? Or will making a different choice still take you down the same route? What if your decision changes the rest of your life and everything is different from what it is supposed to be? What would happen if you make the wrong choice?
Syaoran woke up slow degree by slow degree. He wasn't a morning person and tended to snap at anyone who so much as look at him in the morning. In short, he wasn't great company when he hasn't had his breakfast.
Just then, the phone by his bedside rang, dragging an annoyed groan out of him. Syaoran contemplated not picking up the phone, but he couldn't stop his hand from reaching for it.
"Hello!" he barked into the phone, ready to bite the head off whoever it was over the phone.
"Where the hell are you!" a fiercer, urgent voice blasted over the cable and into Syaoran's ear. "You are supposed to be here by 6 bloody a.m.! It's already 9 now, popstar! Everyone is on the set waiting for you to show!"
Syaoran winced at how angry Taojin, his producer sounded. "But you said filming today was cancelled?"
"It was, but at the last minute, Fung wanted to retake a few scenes, I sent the fax to you last evening, didn't you get it?" Taojin sounded calmer now, less likely to kill him now.
Syaoran glanced towards his fax machine, which was buried under a ton of incoming faxes and nearly groaned again. He knew he should have checked his faxes. "No, I didn't get it," he lied smoothly. "Give me half an hour, I'll be there," he promised, hoping against hope that he could actually make it.
Over the phone, Syaoran heard Taojin gave an exasperated sigh, "Fine, just get your butt over here as soon as possible!" he cut the connection before Syaoran could say anything else.
Syaoran replaced the phone into its cradle and sighed. He just got up and already today promised to be a real lousy day. Work, work and more work, when will he be able to just kick back and enjoy a day to himself? Being an actor is tough; being an actor who every director wants a piece of is even harder.
Negligently, he pushed the covers over his naked torso, and padded into his bathroom, yawning and stretching himself, his powerful muscles rippled as he moved, just like a jungle cat – sleek, beautiful and dangerous. As he looked into the mirror hanging over the basin, he absently scratched his washboard stomach.
"I need a shave," he mumbled to himself and reached for the razor and shaving cream.
Fifteen minutes later, Syaoran exited his bathroom, shaven, brushed and bathed. As he toweled his hair dry, he picked up a pair of denim jeans and smelled it. Finding no suspicious odor, he pulled it on and then reached blindly for a shirt. For a guy who was the ultimate fantasy of most women all over Asia, he was incredibly sloppy and unkempt. If it wasn't for the housekeeper who came in once a week to clean his place, he would have been lost in the pigsty he called a home. He would have been buried under apple cores, banana skins and empty pizza boxes.
Syaoran threw his towel into the laundry basket and shoved his fingers through his still damp hair to work out the tangles. He didn't bother looking for a comb because he knew he would never be able to find it with all the junk that had collected this past week. 'Thank God Ling's coming in today to clean the house," Syaoran thought absently when he was satisfied with his hair and proceeded to dig inside the duffel bag which contained his gym stuff for the keys. A second thorough search told him that the keys weren't in the bag. Syaoran stood up and thrust his hands into his jeans pockets and immediately found what he was looking for. Smiling to himself, he tossed the keys up into the air and caught it deftly.
Syaoran and his best friend, Eriol, slowly walked off the set, exhausted and oblivious to the action around them. Their job for now was done, but the backstage peoples' weren't. They still needed to pack up the equipments before they can rest.
Eriol threw himself into a chair and totally relaxed himself, his head lolling back and his eyes sliding shut. Syaoran followed his friend's example on the chair next to Eriol's. The two striking males sitting side by side in the same posture made a very compelling picture and every female who walked past them gave them a second appreciative glance which neither was sober enough to take note of.
"It's all your fault, Syaoran," Eriol mumbled.
"What did I do?" Syaoran protested half-heartedly, he knew it was his fault that the filming dragged till so late. He delayed everyone and wasted lots of money. He was going to get a bad reputation if the bloody bloodhounds ever hear of it. It took but one mistake to acquire a bad reputation in this business. The only way to stay out of gossip magazine was to be a saint: see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil and do no evil.
"I promised Tomoyo that I'll have dinner with her, and now, because of you, I'm going to have a exceptionally early breakfast with her." Eriol opened his eyes with an effort and turned his head towards Syaoran. "And it's all your fault, you better tell Tomoyo that. She threatened to break up with me if I keep neglecting her. What am I supposed to do?" Eriol looked at Syaoran mournfully.
Syaoran could almost pity his friend. Almost, but not quite. If Tomoyo wasn't the most beautiful girl in town, and the kindest, gentlest girl ever to be found in this country, Syaoran might have been able to dreg up some semblance of pity for his best friend. But as things were, she was and Syaoran honestly didn't feel that guilty after all.
"You know Tomoyo forgives you for anything. If you told her you killed somebody, she'll probably hide the body for you, so stop with that crap. Both of us know that she's the best thing that ever happen to you," Syaoran said grumpily, but not unkindly. "I want your girlfriend."
Eriol just smiled, "You can't have her." Gathering his strength, Eriol pushed himself upright and out of his chair. "I've got to go, have to see Tomoyo now. I'll see you when I see you," he tossed a wave at Syaoran without turning around to face him.
Syaoran knew without looking at Eriol's face that he was probably wearing a blissful smile. He sighed and sat up, wondering why the hell Eriol was so lucky. But he was so exhausted that before he could finish his thought, he fell asleep on the chair. When he woke up, he was still there in the chair, with a sore body and a neck that didn't feel like his own.
------------------------------------------------
Author's Note: Sorry everyone, I know, slow start… But I hope all of you will still read this story. More things, guaranteed next chapter! I mean come on, the main girl Sakura hasn't even shown up yet, right? Oh and if you're confused about the year… 2003 instead of 2013, just read on, things will clear up next chapter. The characters may seem a bit OOC, but I hope none of you mind. Keep in mind, they're around their early 20s, so it shouldn't be a surprise they don't act like they're 10. Hehe, and please remember to review! By the way, it's my birthday today so I've got to go out soon. But if I'm in a good mood, and see a new review or two before I leave for dinner (eating out) I'll update the next chapter. ^_^