Left With A Flower

By Ukyou

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Chapter Six - Questions Answered

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'Sakura...?'

'Sakura...?'

'Sakura......?'

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Her eyes, emeralds trapped in glass, it was those eyes that told she she was awake. At first, I didn't open the door all the way, only taking a small peek from between the door and the wall. She quickly noticed, however, and motioned her hand to let me in.

'Are you so sure of that?' I asked, not opening at all, instead, just peeping through the small niche. She looked at me strangely, all she could see was my eye peering into hers, the thought of her's dominated by the wonder of the people she knew that had green eyes.

'Well, perhaps you can stand out there forever and talk with everyone hearing you, or you can sit here and talk privatly, much as I think you would, Syaoran.' she said, motioning for me to enter again.

The door gave a creak as I opened it, and I took a step in, keeping my head up, and sitting down in my small white plastic chair. She had her head upon the pillow, and looked at me. Her hair was long, and wove through her shoulders and down her back, like seaweed first removed from the blue. She gave a smile, and then started.

'Syaoran, u know what happened to me, right?' she asked me, and I nodded, keeping a serious tone. What I would give to just laugh for no reason at all, and I didn't know why. It was an urge without reason to exist.

It was quiet, much as I had expected. I dropped my head, and my head felt as if someone had grabbed it, shaken it to mix p my thoughs, and then put it back. I knew exactly what I was going to say, but now...all I could do was keep quiet.

'Aren't you gonna say something, Syaoran?' she asked, her voice sounding weak, as was expected by me. She spoke as if nothing had happened between us, and that we were still friends or something. Whatever.

'How can you talk in that kind of tone?' I asked her. 'So, soft, as if you'd expect me to talk the same way to you.'

'What are you talking about?' she asked me cluelessly. Her eyes tilted a bit to the side, as to say I was crazy, but the rest of her keeping still. Very very still.

'What do you mean 'What are you talking about''?! Its been 3 months Sakura, and you left me there for..for...' I then picked up the small picture frame that her man had left on her table. '...for this man! You betrayed me and walked away from me! And you dare ask me THAT?!'

She was speechness, but I wasn't. In only a second, I had exploded, furiously. I stood up, even, and she didn't look up at me at all. Instead, she just looked forward.

'You know what, Sakura, maybe I should just leave you then. And then, when you get out of here, maybe I'll be the one to leave a letter on your door, only to turn my back on you too!!' I yelled, and she was shaking.

'Syaoran, don't go...please, don't go. There is too much to be said....'

...and then I cut her off.

'You know what, Sakura? I am sick off all of this, the lies, the...the visions that I keep seeing. I'm sick and tired of all this bullshit!' I yelled, but then she gave out in a small frail voice.

'Syaoran...'

...but I continued yelling, ravenous and mad I was, and my words showed it.

'Goddammit Syaoran!' she screamed, picking up the picture frame and smashing it on the ground. 'Listen to me!!!'

I then shut up completly, the words had been stolen from me, packaged, and shipped away. In fact, I completly forgot what I was about to say.

'Syaoran...I'm dying.' she said, giving a deep sigh as she said so. '...and the doctors say that I only have a few weeks, maybe, if I'm lucky.'

'Wait, no...no Sakura, you're lying. I can see your smile formi-'

'No, Syaoran.' she said, reaching for my hand and holding it tight. 'Syaoran, I'm dying.'

She lowered the blanket, and I could see it. Her abdomen was heavily bandaged and much of her other arm as well.

'Sakura....what ...no....' I said, and I soon found myself shaking. 'No, Sakura, the doctors, they can heal you...they can, can't they?'

'Syaoran, they shot me. I was in a coma for so long, until I woke up and saw you at my door 2 hours later now.' she said, smiling weakly. 'There are so many wounds, its a miracle I'm even alive right now...'

Then, my eyes began to tear. It didn't matter anymore of how she left me...but she...she was going to be gone...

...but no, she couldn't be dying....no, its not possible. Perhaps, this is another dream. Or maybe I'm seeing things again...

'Syaoran, I know what I did. Don't ask me why I did it, because I don't know. Just...please, its been bad enough for me already...just don't ask me why I didn't. Lets play a masquerade, as if nothing happened at all.' she said, still holding my hand.

'Sakura, you're thinking too much. Please, go to sleep, rest. I'll sit here next to you, and I'll be sitting here when you wake up.' I told her, and she smiled at me.

'Syaoran, are you doing this because you feel as if you should, or because I am dying and my hand is more likely going to slip out of your hands any minute now?' she asked, lifting her head and facing me.

'Sakura, the masquerade, has it started?' I asked, and she nodded.

'Then you are asking too many questions. I'll sit here, and I'll watch over you. You will sleep, but to do so, you need to shut your eyes.' I said, almost forgetting that she was dying at all.

'Syaoran, hold my hand...' she said.

'I am, Sakura.' I said back, but by then, she was already asleep.

Her hand was still warm, which told she wasn't dead. It was a relief.

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Its funny now, when I think of it, I notice that I never asked her why she left me at all. Instead, I kept quiet about it, even forgetting it, to the point of which I lived out our artificial reality, that we pretended like we never left eachother. It felt good, but the question lingers in my head now, when I think of it.

'Was it true love?'

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Author's Note: And here we go, the big question from chap 4:

Who in the hell is John?

Well, if you've seen 'A Beautiful Mind', you can tell where the story is gonna go to, but not THAT intense or anything.

Syaoran sees people and hears voices in his head. He's gone crazy, and they try to change his decisions constantly. Its scitzophrenia, or however u spell it. His imaginations appear real to him, so real that he would not deny them real at first glance.

The overall question of the story is, 'What is real, and what is not'. Perhaps in the figure of people, and things, but love as well. How can you tell true love and spoken love apart? The thing is, you can't, not until its all over.

4:11A.M. - July 30th 2002

~Ukyou