Left With A Flower
By Ukyou
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Chapter Three - Silence
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Syaoran the photographer. He could never have seen himself with such a job had he thought about it only a year ago, but Syaoran could capture all he saw in the world, skillfully trapping the emotion and feeling within the thin roll of film.
On most cases, he could have it banded around his neck, dangling from it in the front, the lens cap hanging limly on its string. The camera was old, but it was adequate for a man that used it only for personal pleasure.
He lived in an apartment on the far edge of the city, the living room containing only a single table, a light bulb hanging from a chain, so loose that a single tap could let it down. A wooden chair stood on the side of the table, an old newspaper rolled upon it. There was a bathroom, which was well-kept, a small kitchen, and Syaoran's bedroom, in which contained a television set and his bed, which was quite comfortable, much unlike the rest of his home.
His closet, however, was always dark, for that was where he processed his photos. He had a job, but his apartment was paid by his mother, who would send him small checks of money, enough for the rent.
Sakura had never visited him here, for he had always gone to her house, or meet up with her elsewhere. It was never quite peculiar to her one bit, it seemed. She seemed to pass it away, swat it like a fly, and afterwards not notice a single one in the air. It was so perfect.
Syaoran fumbled his hands in his pockets as he climbed the wooden stairs to his apartment door, the boards creaking below his feet. When he finally did reach the top, keys in hand, he quickly opened the door and shut it behind himself.
He didn't want to see Sakura at all. Instead, perhaps it was in his head that he didn't plan on seeing her again. It hurt him too much.
Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone, and he was planning to have his. In fact, perhaps two cups.
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It was after a long shower and small meal that Syaoran decided to lie down, just for a little while. His head felt as if he had hit it against a wall, and he collapsed upon his bed.
...but has he did so, his ears twitched to the angellic sound of a music box, his music box. The music flowed in and out of his ears, much unlike most music that touched him.
It appeared at first that the shaking of the bed may have triggered it, but..no, that couldn't be at all.
He was soon being led to believe that it started playing by itself.
It was simple on the outside, still keeping its original cherrywood color, but glazed over so it shone in light. It had a small metal handle about the side of a thumbnail that would wind it, the door on top being held by a small handle.
Sakura had given it to him, and he found it quite peculiar that the little thing would be playing, for it was mocking him in a way. Within its small tune was a hidden message, perhaps pushing him to see her. Push him to think once more. Think about how he got it, the ripe smell of fruit, the singing of cicadas.
'No.' he said aloud to himself, shutting the small door of the music box. 'No, this is not happening. Its over.'
...and with that, he threw the small music box against the wall, its small gears and springs flying out of it as it smashed to the floor. It gave a small, but dying, tune as it landed, slowly stopping.
He had gone mad. Or that was what he thought. He found himself lying in his bed, facing the ceiling, tears slowly seeping from under his eyelids. He didn't know why, he thought his fit of anger would do him well.
...and with that, he ran out of his room and barged out the door. He sprinted down the stairs and ran outside. Perhaps he had indeed gone mad, for he had run outside without a jacket, and it was raining.
Where was there to go? The clouds hung in the sky as if they were danging from strings, a quick flash of lightning recieving merely a blink from the man, his running continuing without even a single break for air. Thin strands of water seeped down his brow, for he was now soaking wet.
When he had reached the park, he didn't have to look around to notice he was all alone. His quickness soon faulted, his great steps now a walking pace. He followed the sidewalk, winding like a jackknife through the vast grassy plain.
...and then he arrived there. It was the end of the sidewalk, the middle of a double row of cherry blossom trees. They were in full bloom, much unlike the last time he was here.
It was a few steps forward, merely three paces where a large puddle now lay, in which he was standing in front of Sakura so long ago. The expression on his face didn't change at all, and he stared forward, as if Sakura was still standing there.
...and perhaps it was all imagined, or conjured by his mind, but it soon appeared to him that she was indeed standing there, her hair let down, weaving into a shapeless pattern with the wind. He knew it was only an illusion, he knew it wasn't real. She stood there in front of him, like a fragment of a dream, the mere flicker of one that seemed so fragile, it would vanish if touched by merely a whisper.
Syaoran kept silent, looking at her, the mocking smile painted on her face. She seemed to never get wet at all, she just stood there. The angellic impression was a shadow, a spectre.
Still, something inside him pushed him to say something, and he found himself opening his mouth, but no words would come out of it.
...and finally, he broke the silence.
'What the hell do you want?!' he yelled, his face changing into an expression of anger, as he soon found himself yelling at the image.
'Do you wish to mock me, Sakura?! Out here in the rain, watch me get soaked as you continue to smile? Much as you did so long ago? Why can't you just turn your back on me now!!' he went on, furiously. His hand pointed at her as he said so, but she didn't even flinch. In fact, it didn't occur to him anymore that she wasn't real.
It was quiet once again, and unbeknownst to him, Syaoran's tears fell once again. To feel as if he was ignored, it drove him to insanity. Even more though, it hurt him. He felt as if someone had reached deep inside him, grabbed his heart, and then squeezed it, not letting go at all.
He fell onto his knees, palms on the ground. He was shaking, for he was also cold, but was also unstable. He could not tell anymore if he was crying or not, it was raining so hard that he could not tell the difference.
His voice was now weak, his face looking down. The rain pounded harder and harder, making it all the more difficult to see Sakura at all in the cascade.
'...Sakura....what....what do you want from me....?' he spoke, the words flowing out of him as if he needed to release them. He never looked back up, instead, he collapsed upon the ground.
'...why did you do it...' he whispered, in a tone that suggested that he was talking to himself. He looked back up, and saw that she was gone. She wasn't real. She wasn't there. He was just seeing things. Thats all.
'Syaoran.' he heard from behind himself, and he quickly stood up to see who it was.
She held an umbrella, long black hair falling down upon her shoulders. It was Tomoyo, and she soon asked me what happened.
He simply stood under the umbrella and kept quiet. Or at least, he tried to.
'Syaoran, you're soaked. Here, I'll take you to my place and we'll talk over a cup of coffee, ok?' she offered in a tone that he could not refuse. And that is what happened, he agreed to it fully.
...and so they turned and walked away from the scene. He couldn't help but look back, however, the cherry blossoms waving to me in the wind. But in between, He quickly glanced to see if Sakura was still there. No, she couldn't be, he thought to himself,
'...she was never there.'
'She was merely a figment of my imagination'
'Sakura...she's...in the hospital...'
All of these things filled his mind as he walked away. Still, nevertheless, he didn't know what would happen if Sakura was really there. Could he really say such things? Or did he say them because he knew that she wasn't real.
...but what if that wasn't the case...
then what would there be to say, when the time was right?
...or would it simply be silent...?
~to be continued
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Author's note: Perhaps I lost some of you as in to what happened in this chapter. Maybe you already do know what happened, but still, you can tell, nonetheless, that Syaoran is taking a heavy beating from 'that day', and yet cannot reveal such emotions when he is really around Sakura.
On the other hand, if his mind could play such tricks on him, what would happen if he lost touch of what was real...and what was imagined?
Perhaps he won't be able to hold it in much longer...
Keep reading, and please review. The more reviews I get, the more I feel like writing :P
..oh yea, and to reply to a few e-mails I got, I am not an adult. In fact, I turned 15 in March.