The Emeralds Connection
drabbled by Ginny
xxxxx
They knew each other as kids; only twelve years old and neither quite close with either.
She was the best friend of the girl that he had a crush on, and perhaps she had a crush on her too. Both were attracted to the sweet, innocent darling with bright emeralds for eyes.
How could they not?
They hardly knew each other as kids, so when he left back home to Hong Kong, there was just a quick goodbye before the long mooneyes. (Between him and his emeralds.)
They soon forgot about each other.
He forgot how dark her eyes were, though, if he ever realized it in the first place. He forgot about her countless abilities; to sing, to draw, to dance, to record, to create, to make, to do. (And yet, she could never quite catch up to the emeralds.) He forgot her, just remembering her as the friend of his sweetheart from Japan.
She, too, soon forgot, though a tad bit later. (After all, she was obsessed with the emeralds for quite the while.) She forgot that he got rather shy around the opposite sex; he was never quite good at expressing his feelings. She forgot his gruff exterior. She forgot the bear he bought for emeralds. She forgot all but the fact that he was emerald's first darling.
Neither had expected that ten years and five failed relationships later, they'd end up in the city of New York in America. She was there for a fashion show, and he was there to set a business deal. Neither expected that they'd end up going to the same bar on the same night at the same hour, sit right next to each other, and order the same cocktail.
"Here's your drink," the bartender said as he laid down the cocktail.
They both reached for the drink at the same time, their fingers grazing just slight. She pulled back and told him to take it, and he refused. So the drink stood there in between, the two trying to persuade the other to drink, until the bartender brought another.
She vaguely recognized his curt coolness, and he vaguely recognized those dark eyes.
Both sat silent, sipping their drinks trying to remember just where they knew each other from until they slammed their fists on the bartop and turned to each other and said each others' names.
"Daidouji Tomoyo!" & "Li Syaoran!" rang in the air.
They laughed, and they talked, and they recalled emeralds and she even admitted to having a bit of a crush back then. He admitted that for a while he thought he'd marry emeralds before they lost touch over time.
They laughed at themselves.
It was the second time they met, but it was the first time that they truly met each other.
It was closing midnight and he offered to walk her to her hotel. They walked and they talked, both a bit tipsy and more open then they usually were. They got to the Carlton and she looked at him with those dark eyes and spoke very softly, inviting him up to her room.
She held out her hand and he took it with a roguish grin.
She entered the crisp, white room and she turned on the radio. The volume was set low and they could hear the faint music in the background, some soothing American song that she heard before. She started to hum and soon enough, she began to sing a little; often, stumbling over the words, all except for one line.
He listened as he unzipped her dress and he remembered.
God, she had such a lovely voice.
And they fucked on the white sheets while she sang the song.
That was the day that Daidouji Tomoyo met Li Syaoran.
And God, it was such a lovely day.
xxxxx
She was only set to stay five more days.
He was set to stay for three.
He took her to a fancy restaurant the next night, and then opera afterwards.
"Listen," she whispered, sort of chastising, as the fat lady sang.
He was not a big opera fan, he only suggested it since he figured that she'd like it. But it was obvious when he fidgeted and twirled her locks around his fingers, then held her hand and constantly take bathroom breaks.
Finally, he whispered some naughty words in her ears and she had to hold in a laugh.
They left early.
Tomoyo didn't much like that opera anyway.
xxxxx
It was just a fling.
It was unspoken, but there was a silent agreement between them.
They had both just gotten out of bitter relationships. Tomoyo's fiance of a year had ran off with that slut of a secretary, and Syaoran had ended a romance that had gone all wrong about a month ago. Neither was ready for or really wanted commitment.
It was just a fling.
That just happened to mean a bit more than others.
After he went on his plane, he'd go back to Hong Kong. And two days later, she'd go back to Japan. They would never see each other again.
They would forget each other again.
He'd forget how dark her lovely eyes were, how well she sang. And she? She'd forget how shy he could be, and how he could never manage to find the right words to say.
They would forget.
It was just a fling.
xxxxx
He was supposed to leave today.
He cancelled his flight.
"Two more days," he murmured while he ran his fingers through her hair. He loved to do that, it became a habit in the short amount of time they spent together. "I can stay, two more days."
It was just a fling.
But suddenly it wasn't.
Because now she was remembering the strange little things he did and liked. He didn't like to eat tomatoes, he didn't like a lot of pepper, and he had a fondness for Italian food and strawberry cheesecake. And he was beginning to remember hers; she had this horrible coffee addiction that she tried and failed to break every day. He knew she liked to brush her teeth with a citrus-flavored toothpaste, and she liked to eat chocolates with almonds.
When she slept, she murmured words in her sleep and he hogged the blankets. He liked to poke her in the stomach and he loved watching her do ordinary, everyday things. He loved to wake up to her sleepy face and he despite what she said, he liked her hair when it was messily put up in a careless ponytail, strands out all over. She liked to smell his hair after showers, and she liked how it looked all wet. She loved how he always had that faint smell about him, and she liked to scare him when he least expected it, and lean her forehead against his. She wore his shirts when she cooked dinner, the soft blue plaid was her favorite.
It was turning into love, and neither had meant it to.
And both knew, but neither would say because it was a stupid time to fall in love when they had days, not years.
xxxxx
They went to the airport together, holding hands. Both grasped equally hard, both equally not wanting to let go.
Then finally came the sign and two arrows, pointing in opposite directions.
They split, but before, she jotted her address on the back of a business card and said in jest, "If you ever happen to be in Japan. Pay me a visit, ne?"
He took it cordially with an ache in his heart.
Both knew, who were they kidding?
They would never see each other again.
The arrows flashed and they parted, only hearing the roll of the suitcases and the click of her shoes against the tiles.
It was over.
xxxxx
He landed in Hong Kong and life returned, passing time as always.
Days passed into a month and he reluctantly went back to his mundane life before his business trip to America. He thought of her constantly and found himself in sweat when he woke up alone, patting the space next to him with his hand frantically.
And then he'd remember.
She wasn't there anymore, it was just five days.
Five days and a fling.
Just a fling, that's all it was.
He started to work on a business contract when he found himself writing the same words over again withour realizing. In frustration, he turned on the radio and a song played, barely audible but vaguely familiar.
He raised the volume some more and a bitter smile approached his lips.
It was the song, it was their song.
And then it hit him.
It was no fling, he was in love. At least that's what he thought they called it these days.
He wasn't sure of it himself.
He just knew he was feeling, a magnificent feeling that was just too great to describe.
He found himself wondering what he was still doing standing there in his room.
He laughed and picked up his blue plaid.
First thing next morning, he bought a one way ticket to Japan.
xxxxx
The doorbell rang and she expected some package of some sort or another, she received many of them daily around this time.
Instead, she was met with flowers and a familiar scent.
And everything crashed down to hell.
xxxxx
"My fiance came back," she said, her eyes refusing to meet his. She knew all it took was one glance, one glance and everything would fall. Her whole life would come crashing down.
She had thought too, this has got to be love. She wanted love for years, and now she had found it. But she wasn't ready, not for something so big.
She wasn't ready for this sort of thing.
He left without a word and she stared at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. A light in her burst and she ran after him, but he was already gone.
She cried and it began to rain.
xxxxx
There had been a diamond ring on her finger, that finger.
He was angry and bitter and sad and just so everything.
He had started to drink but found the taste just didn't suit him. He started to lie down in bed and massage his temples with his fingers.
He could hear the rain cascading on the roof and he could see the rain trickling down the windows.
He got up looked out the window and he saw a figure in the rain, looking up towards him.
No umbrella.
He cursed under his breath and ran down.
He hadn't been completely sure it was her until he saw her pleading face.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, meaning to sound cool and disinterested but finding his anger uncontrolled. She was soaking wet, her long hair dripped to her sides. She was shaking, and she was white. She was just so white. And there was liquid on her face. Whether it was the rain, or whether it was tears, he couldn't tell.
"Will you catch me if I'm falling?" Her voice barely above a whisper, the line she sang so often returning in clumsy words. It was the only line she knew word for word, it was the only line she never stumbled over. At least, not until now.
He put a hand against her cheek tentatively, almost afraid to touch her. She was icy cold to the touch and he could feel her body shaking a little, the small tremors running up and down.
It was almost too surreal.
It was dark.
They were in the rain.
He was cold, but he wasn't.
He was shaking, he shivered, he was getting wet all over.
And he should've been feeling miserable.
She should've been feeling miserable.
But they stood.
They stood and they met each other again.
He ran his other hand through the wet masses of her hair.
He said nothing, and neither did she.
There was nothing more to say.
And that was the day their life started.
xxxxx
ginny speaks: I was listening to this song and kept picturing this scene of a girl standing in the rain and was gonna write a short FujiSaku, but ended up drabbling Tomoyo/Syaoran instead. Which, is absolutely fine by me. I think it's best as a Tomoyo/Syaoran anyway...
Must start my Tomoyo/Eriol now... sob... must... start... And perhaps another TS? :D
Oh yeah, I don't know what they like and dislike. I just made stuff up.