Untouchable

She sat there, so calmly, in front of him, just slightly out of his reach. A curtain of dark hair cascaded over the back of her chair; like a waterfall of midnight - the envy of half the girls in the class. It was all he could see.

He wanted to reach out and stroke it, just once, but his fingers wouldn't obey his mind – they became suddenly paralysed whenever he stretched forward.

They were right, he was forced to think – they knew that he couldn't touch her.

No-one could touch her, because she was perfect and beautiful and everything that was right in the world, and if someone ordinary, someone imperfect touched her, she would shatter, he was quite certain.

He would never, ever break her; not for his own selfish reasons.

Even if sometimes, he wanted to with a quiet but desperate longing that tore him apart.

Her beauty was an untouchable beauty. She was there, sitting beside him this time in the booth of the small, but busy, coffee store they had stopped at. But in a way, she was not there – she could never, he thought, truly be there , she didn't belong here, she belonged, although it was a cliché, in fluffy white clouds, serenading the heavens, leading a choir of angels with voices inferior to hers.

She didn't belong here, forced to be in the company of mortals.

But he was happy for every second she remained there. He treasured every glance of her he got, because he was certain that someday, someday soon, she would hear her true calling and disappear to somewhere else, a place where the inhabitants deserved her.

He never wanted to lose her, so he clung to her with all his might.

It was a subtle sort of a clinging, he liked to think. He simply made sure to smile at her when he saw her, remembered her birthday (and was sure to be sensitive when Sakura's rolled around), gave her flowers now and then, made sure she knew he was there if she wanted to talk.

He just wanted her to make sure that she knew the people around her appreciated her, so that she wouldn't leave.

He knew all about leaving – he'd gone back to England five years ago, but he had been haunted by that face, that pale face set with big, glorious, yet sad purple eyes, framed by tumbling violet curls…

He had only managed to stay in London for a week, before he had been drawn mysteriously back to that small Japanese town where the new card mistress lived with her purple-haired soprano of a best friend.

He could still see that scene at the airport, a small but noisy group standing in the arrivals lounge, eagerly watching the gate where the passengers of the flight from England would enter. Sakura had been clutching a bouquet of flowers, torn between excitedly anticipating the arrivals and scolding Syaoran for looking so unenthusiastic.

He had seen her from a good hundred meters away, that fantastic wave of brilliant hair giving her away. He had paused for a second, his feet frozen to the floor. Was this the right decision, coming back?

Ruby Moon had frowned at him.
"Come on, Eriol-sama," she had coaxed good-naturedly.

He had nodded at his guardian and she had grinned her wider-than-life grin before breaking into a run and squealing, "Touya-KUN!" at the top of her voice. Evidently she had, at that moment, spotted the card mistress' older brother, who was standing looking resigned to being glomped and even holding his arms out gamely.

Eriol had chuckled at Ruby Moon's antics and followed her at a more sedate pace. When he reached the end of the corridor he was greeted by a cacophony of excited voices asking him questions, and everyone clamoured for his attention.

However, she was the only one he saw. He couldn't quite decipher the look in her eyes – was she sad to see him, happy or just indifferent?

Then, for a shining, wonderful moment, her lips had taken on that little, true smile she wore when she was really happy and not just faking it for everyone else's sake, and she had said, "welcome home."

Sakura and Syaoran were talking loudly, as if they were trying to cover up for Tomoyo and Eriol's silence.

"I think I'll have strawberry shortcake!" Sakura was saying as she examined the menu. Tomoyo smiled.

"And milk?" she asked. "Or perhaps hot chocolate?"

Sakura wrinkled her nose as she mentally debated the merits of milk versus hot chocolate.

"Aa, I can't decide!" she exclaimed finally, defeated. Tomoyo laughed. Eriol revelled in the sound – only Sakura made Tomoyo laugh like that.

"You could have both," Syaoran suggested. "That way, you can drink your milk while you wait for your hot chocolate to cool."

"Oh, Syaoran-kun, that's a wonderful idea!" Sakura exclaimed. Syaoran's face burned at such high praise. Tomoyo's face fell, and Eriol noticed.

"It's lovely this time of year, isn't it?" Eriol asked Tomoyo.

They were walking down a Sakura-tree-lined street drenched in spring sunlight. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sound of children's laughter rang out clearly from the nearby play-park. It was a stereotypically perfect spring day.

"It's coming up to Sakura's birthday," Tomoyo said, forcing herself to sound cheerful and bringing that monstrosity of a fake smile to her face. "Everything is making itself extra-beautiful in preparation. It wouldn't do for the weather not to be beautiful on Sakura's birthday. It just wouldn't do if there was less than perfection."

He wanted to say something, anything, but his mouth wouldn't work. And perhaps that was better, anyway. He had a horrible feeling that he would say something like 'I'm sorry', and the last thing Tomoyo wanted was pity. Her pretty eyes would flash angrily, and she would freeze up and refuse to talk for the rest of the walk.

He blinked, surprised, when he realised that they had actually reached the gates of Tomoyo's impressive mansion already. They paused for a second on the pavement, and Tomoyo took it upon herself to speak first.

"Thank you for walking me home," she said, flashing him a quick, almost sincere smile.

He wanted to say something, but he still didn't know what, so she turned to walk away.

She got perhaps a meter away when Eriol said suddenly, "wait, Tomoyo-san!"

She turned to him, a politely puzzled expression on her face, an eyebrow raised to indicate that he should continue talking, as she was listening.

"Come here," he said.

Tomoyo, still looking confused, walked the few steps back to him. She stood in front of him, looking up into his eyes, and waited. Eriol took a deep breath and slowly reached a hand out to touch her hair.

"T-there's a Sakura in your hair," he said, choking on the words.
"Oh?" she said, raising an amused eyebrow that seemed to say, and what are you going to do about it?

He lifted off the violet strands with every intention of throwing it away, but on second thought he tucked it gently into the little silver hairpin holding her hair from her face.

It was then that he realised he was touching her, and she wasn't shattering.

She smiled at him, and he couldn't help but feel hopeful.

A.N. Written AGES ago – it must have been about six months ago – but miraculously, looking back, I don't hate it. If you like my fics, you really must go to my Livejournal: www dot livejournal dot com slash ladystargazer as this fic (along with some others) have been up there for months before they get here. Don't worry, you don't need an account to read OR comment there.

Anyway, I was attempting to do an in-character, post-canon (anime) ExT, and I think I managed it. I'm not exactly sure if Eriol and Tomoyo are properly in-character ALL the time, but I think there's a few scenes where they definitely are, and I think I got Sakura, Syaoran and Nakuru's characters right (okay, so they only have like two sentences each, but who cares?)