Nocturne
by Ekai Ungson

legality: CLAMP/Kodansha owns Card Captor Sakura. Characters used without permission.

For Chelle, Ciircee, and Varon. ^-^

The wind was on her face, on her hair, whipping the wavy strands around. She revved the gas. The motorcycle hurtled forward.

A pair of yellow-tinted goggles covered her violet eyes as she weaved the bike in and out of the back alleys and the city streets. She wasn't wearing a helmet. She thought helmets restrained her freedom.

She was glad for having left the crowded party at the warehouse. The air in that place was suffocating, so she ditched the techno scene for the grit of the open roads. She crossed the next intersection and was soon breezing through the coast view road, where there was a brilliant view of the full moon on the lapping water. She parked on the roadside and vaulted the low wall to get to the restricted' beach.

As she looked out at the sea, she remembered Blue Eyes, the guy she saw at every single bash she attended. She deduced that he must be a pretty popular guy, always in the middle of everything. Usually it was two females. Actually, one of the dames draped on him tonight was an acquaintance of hers. Poor her. Or him, it really depends.

She scoffed, laughing. The boy was fine, given. And yep, always in the middle of something. She glanced at her watch. At this hour, he was probably between a woman and a mattress. Or even TWO women, if he went that far.

She'd seen the look on his eyes when she smiled at him. Those brilliant, disconcerting blue eyes that still smoldered even if he was drunk like hell and bloodshot at that, too. Tsk, there were only a few people who had eyes like that.

She shook her head. The man was a preppie-type rebel. She had no room for him in her mind.

-Dos: Muñeca Brava-

Daidouji Tomoyo fished for her keys in the small purse she held. She found it and held it up triumphantly before she inserted it in the knob and turned.

The apartment was dark when she came in, but comfortably cool which was a relief to her overheated skin. Raves, what was there to rave about? She still couldn't understand how they could conquer such physiological impossibilities like cramming one-hundred and fifty people into one little dance floor. Tomoyo shook her head. Amazing.

That guy was there again. That guy that looked like he was king of all raves. Since Tomoyo first began going to them (or getting dragged to them, which was a more accurate description) she began to notice that he was at every party she went to. In fact, he was probably at every single party thrown in the city. Tomoyo paused. That must get pretty boring.

She began to dress for bed, taking off the red leather and black pants she'd been wearing. Honestly, she didn't know why she let herself be dressed in such torture devices. Parties tended to have too many people breathing in the scarce oxygen in an enclosed space. And too many people all sweating due to the sheer number of people in the area all exuded body heat comparable to a sauna.

I hate congested spaces, Tomoyo thought with a toss of her long hair. Tomorrow, if Aya suggests another bash I will refuse vehemently.

Which, she knew, she would never be able to follow on.

Tomoyo had begun to go to raves some two years ago, when the underground was still deep underground. It had been at first an insatiable curiosity that had grown into an irresistible sort of addiction.

But there were issues hidden in the flickering neon that she never wanted to face again.

She lay down in bed and stared at the ceiling. Some things she just did not want to think about.

Sleep came, out of exhaustion, if anything else.

~~~~

There was a resounding crash when the alarm blared at six in the morning. Tomoyo groped for the contraption on the side table, still half-asleep, and promptly threw it somewhere far, far away from her.

There was also a noise of someone whooping in surprise before the crash.

Tomoyo opened one eye. "Oh, Aya," she noted absently. "Just got in?"

"Spent the night in heaven," said Aya, her roommate, as she straightened from ducking the projectile Tomoyo had thrown. "I met the most wonderful man last night."

"Can he possibly be more wonderful than the one the other night? Or the night theweek before?" Tomoyo asked, pushing the covers off her.

Aya only smiled at her.

She sighed. "You know, I'm beginning to think you go to the raves just to find men to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner," Tomoyo said as she smoothed her covers and began rummaging for slippers.

"Why the hell not?" asked Aya, who was now getting into her pyjamas. "You're the one I don't understand, Tomoyo. A lot of men lust after you when you go to those raves. They ask you to dance, you decline. They ask for your number, you decline." Aya cocked her head at Tomoyo. "Are you picky or are you gay?"

Tomoyo stared at Aya and promptly threw a pillow at her. "Aya!"

"Kidding, kidding!" Aya laughed. "But you know, Tomoyo, if you don't accept any offers now, you'll never get—"

"Married?" asked Tomoyo.

"Laid," Aya corrected.

At that, Tomoyo threw another pillow at her roommate, who giggled and went to bed.

Tomoyo sat, silent, staring at Aya as her friend went off to dreamland after a night of 'heaven' as she herself put it.

Heaven?

One party is the same as the next, as the next is the same with the next. A never ending cycle of techno music and bright neon against the darkness, where the smell of alcohol permeated the hot air, where all those in attendance drowned their pain-- and sometimes cried in the black spaces.

She'd seen that place a thousand times before. The same scenario over and over, people drowning their depression in a sea of muted faces and hoarse voices.

Last night she looked up and faced the eyes of the blue-eyed boy who almost always was there, in the center of them all.

And she asked him, What are you doing here? Are you trying to forget you sorrows, too?

*

On the other side of town, the boy remembered.

And found that he had no answers.

~~~tsuzuku

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Notes: Muneca Brava means 'wild angel'. It'll sound familiar to a few Filipino people. ^-^