Deep Water
Part I
by Simply dZ
ooOoo
He was drowning. Drowning in deep water. He was in deep over his head, and he didn't care.
He didn't care at all.
ooOoo
It had always annoyed him.
Why did that girl get to sleep in class?
Ever since he took a break from his singing career and decided to come to class, he had seen her asleep. If she wasn't asleep in class, she was simply not in class. What was she doing that made her so sleepy in class?
Of course, he had heard the rumors. She was a whore. She entertained hormone driven guys, and that was why she was always lacking sleep. She had a night job at a famous club in downtown Tokyo. At least, that's what the girls told him. They also told him that she was a bitch, and that he shouldn't bother with the likes of her.
That always made him wonder how they knew. It's not like they ever talked to her; hell, he had never even seen her awake. And that always made him wonder if they were telling the truths.
And so he found it his developing hobby to watch her in class. When the teacher went on about limits of a function, he watched her gently breathe in and out, her whole body rising and falling a few centimeters in perfect rhythm. When the teacher stressed the importance of the college entrance exams, he chewed thoughtfully on the cap of his pen, all the while wondering how anyone could have such a natural shade of auburn hair. But the thing that he always wondered about was the color of her eyes. What would her eyes look like with her long eyelashes framing it, instead of always covering it?
This didn't mean that he liked her, mind you. He didn't like her at all. He hated the fact that she got to sleep in class. He hated the fact that she could so easily pull off top scores without even trying, when he had to study for it.
But she also made him curious. She emitted a sense of enigma, as if she was her own world and nobody had a right to know. He knew she was full of secrets, so what were they?
Maybe she was secretly a spy, extinguishing evil corporate businesses and ridding the world of corruption. In the days of studying her, he determined that that was possible; she certainly looked fit enough to do it. Or maybe she was secretly an international model; she had the figure for that, too. Or maybe even that she was a scientist searching for a cure for the common cold and/or cancer; she had the brains for that. Or…
Sometimes he marveled at the productivity of both his imagination and boredom combined. But in the end, he still didn't know the mystery that was she.
But she didn't look like a whore. In the days of studying her, he had also decided on that. She looked too warm and too shy to be a whore. He could just tell from the way her shoulders were shaped that she was at least moderately shy, and he could tell from the way her lips gently curved up that she had a warm personality. And after determining that, he would reprimand himself every time; he couldn't base anything on looks. Looks weren't everything. Looks were often deceiving; he should know that. He had been in the entertaining business long enough to know that.
So in the end, what was she like? Unable to answer, he always chose simply to keep on studying her, her left hand casually draped over the edge of the desk, her other supporting her head. That day, it was a mild afternoon, the last class of the day. The windows of the classroom faced the west, letting in natural light and painting the classroom a shade of warm brown, just like her hair.
He felt a tugging at his sleeve, nagging. He turned around to see a girl shyly smiling up at him in the way girls do. She asked him, "some of us are going to Karaoke after this, you wanna come?"
He stared at her. Should he? It would be fun, and he would feel like a normal teen living a normal life.
Instinctively, he turned his head in the opposite direction and looked over at the window. In the beginning, the window was only an excuse to openly stare at the sleeping figure that was Kinomoto Sakura. After all, she sat between the window and him, and it was only natural that daydreamers like him would stare out the window. It was a foolproof plan, really. But then, he looked over at the window so many times a day that he grew accustomed to it. And whenever he was thinking something, he found himself turning his head and resting his cheek on the palm of his hand, all the while staring out the window.
And that brought him back to his question. Should he?
His eyes landed on the girl beneath the window, her body still rising and falling in her own rhythm. On an impulse, he turned around and said to the girl, "sorry, I can't today."
He ignored the gentle whimpering of the girl and went back to staring out the window. He didn't know what compelled him to refuse the offer. Or rather, he knew who compelled him, but didn't know what or why or how. It was such a confusing thought that he spent another few moments pondering it.
He sat there, still staring out the window as others began to leave. He ignored the chiming of the bell as it dismissed other students, and observed the sky. There was nothing really interesting about the sky; it was simply a mass of blue tinted with the yellow and orange that was the sun. A few occasional clouds would shift by, and he would sometimes find himself tracing the unhurried movements of those white fluffy clouds.
But it was not the clouds that interested him; it was the random thoughts that scurried across his head that was what was really interesting.
He would find himself gently walking down the halls and towards the shoeboxes, still as unhurried as the stray clouds. To the public, he was the loud and obnoxious Teen Sensation. And he was indeed, loud and obnoxious and outgoing, but he was also a dreamer. And those few that knew that side of him accepted his daydreaming as the genius behind his songs.
And so he lounged behind the rows of shoeboxes, sitting at where the floor of the inner school building met the pavement. He would yet again stare out the floor-length window and doors at the trees and the sky. He marveled at how both the light reflecting off the leaves and the chirping of the birds blended into each other in an artwork both audio and visual. He wondered where his friends were now. He knew that Eriol would be shooting another commercial, and Chihiro was most likely acting in another drama that girls were going to drool over. Shin was probably working his ass off perfecting his dancing, and he would bet his favorite guitar that Natsuno was flashing perfect smiles out there and getting girls in bed. But no matter what, his friends were just downright awesome. They had been friends since 12 when they all coincidentally enrolled at the same time at the same agency. They found themselves practicing together, singing and dancing and laughing and joking. At 16, the boss let them form their own band. Two years later, they were the hottest in the country.
Yet, for some reason, Syaoran found himself calling a break suddenly at the climax of his fame. He still didn't know why, but…
He suddenly heard footsteps coming down the hall and peeked from behind the shoeboxes. He felt his eyes widen when he realized that it was the one and only Kinomoto Sakura. He watched her as she tiredly took out her shoes and put her school slippers back into the cubby that was her shoebox. He watched her as she put it on and walked out the door, toward the bike racks.
He felt something compel him to run out and follow her.
So he did.
"Wait!" he called out. She was already at the bike racks.
When he got nearer to her, she smiled softly at him and asked, "yes?"
And all he could do was stare at her. His question had finally been answered. Well, one of them, at least. He now found that her eyes were a shade of forest green, deep and beautiful, his favorite color. He wondered idly if she was wearing color contacts, but something to him that she wasn't. He then determined that she must be a half, then. He found himself staring more intently, studying her. Her soft smile betrayed nothing of her, still guarded, yet somewhat open and warm. She emitted a sense of polite curiosity. He found all his dislike toward her melting.
"Yes?" She repeated again.
He had to rack his brain for something to say, and went with the one that came to his mind the first. "Why are you always asleep in class!"
Syaoran winced. That came out a little too rude.
He watched as her polite smile turned into a little frown. The only thing was, she couldn't frown. He figured that her features were only meant for smiling and laughing, for when she tried to frown, it turned into a cute little pout instead. He tried not to chuckle, and listened to her answer.
"Well, one must fulfill her desire to sleep, no?"
She was still as polite and guarded as ever.
"Can't you sleep at home?"
Her frown, or rather, her pout deepened.
"There are certain reasons…" She looked away.
He was more curious then ever.
"Like?" he pressed on.
He immediately found a pair of eyes glaring at him (except it seemed that her features couldn't pull that off, either, and she ended up looking so cute that he wanted to blush).
Her voice was still polite, but colder now. She said, "I am sorry, but I have to go somewhere else. Good day."
Good day? Who says good day anymore? Why was she so mad? Did I say something wrong? He wondered.
Another part of him said, no, you just tried to barge into her private life, that's all.
He shouldn't care, but he found himself caring.
He looked down and noticed a pink wallet; he determined that it must be hers.
He picked it up and was about to call out her name when he noticed that she was already gone.
He figured he would be nice and deliver it to her house. He opened her wallet and found a card. He thought he might as well check it out; her address might be on it, anyways.
Kinomoto Sakura
Entertainer
CLUB TOKYOHe dropped it.
ooOOoo
What did you all think?
It was so random; I went on all these tangents, lOl.
But I quite liked this chapter.
The angst is still yet to come. Here was a little randomness to brace you for it. xD
Mind reviewing? xD