PRE FIC RANTINGS AND A SPRINKLE OF DISCLAIMER: I'm too lazy to write one of these today. Lalalala. CCS is not mine, mild warnings for this chapter seeing as it contains lime of the shounen-ai variety.
Cessation
Izzy Girl
VIII Listen to the Music of the Night
Meiling was gone.
Syaoran blinked blurrily through his narrow vision, staring out at the damp ground and scattered bodies around him. He grunted and slowly worked his numb arms so that they lifted him to his knees. Kero was shaking the water droplets from his thick fur and here and there, men and women were coming to their senses. Tomoyo sat in the middle of all this, head bowed and legs crossed in their impeccable, black jeans. She turned her head quickly as Syaoran stumbled towards her and fell by her side. She stared at him with wide, lavendar eyes.
"She was here, Syaoran. I saw her."
Syaoran stared at the card clenched tightly in Tomoyo's delicate hands and his eyes widened.
"The Watery!" he gasped, "Tomoyo, did... did you..."
She shook her head vehemently, strands of fine, wet hair coming undone from her thick braid, "No. She caught it. And she sealed it, she was protecting us the whole time!"
The girl's words were uncharacteristcally frantic and they all ran together. Syaoran carelessly slung an arm over her shoulder, more to support himself then to comfort her, and raised his eyes to the horizen. The sun was rising over the building tops and no longer were the cards wreaking havoc upon the city. Perhaps they had all been caught. Or perhaps the sun had made them dormant
Or maybe it was crazy old man Clow playing tricks with their minds again.
"Syao-chan, aren't you listening! Don't you care? She was here! She fought the Watery and saved us!"
Finally, Syaoran processed the fluid words Tomoyo was blurting, rolling them over and over in his mind, until finally: "Who do you mean, Tomoyo? Who fought the cards?"
Tomoyo widened her doe-soft eyes and gripped Syaoran's arm desperately. The soft fabric of his blue sweatshirt was hopelessly soaked and heavy on his body, "Who else..." Tomoyo whispered happily, "It was Sakura!"
* * *
"The pressure must have been too much for her." they spoke in whispers, Kero, Spinel, Touya and Syaoran. Tomoyo was in her basement, digging out her old videotapes and humming to herself cheerfully and obliviously.
"Did she really seal the card? By herself?"
"I don't know, Kinomoto-san." Spinel shook his head slowly at Touya's question, "But there doesn't seem to be any other explaination."
"Unless... Sakura is really alive."
Syaoran glowered at Touya and crossed his arms, "You know that can't be true."
Touya glared right back, "How do I? How do you? We never found a body did we? We never actually BURIED her. Maybe she's not really dead?"
"Then where has she been the past four years? You really think that she would just... leave and not tell us where she was going?" Syaoran's voice held barely contained bitterness, "You tell me, Ki-no-mo-to-san, since you were her brother, but that doesn't sound like the Sakura I knew."
Touya frowned, "I didn't mean it like that, Li, I just..."
"Whatever." Syaoran hissed, "I don't like where this conversation is going. I'm leaving." so he did, and the others watched him go.
"Touchy." Spinel commented, "But he's right, what reason would the Mistress have for pretending to be dead? It doesn't really make much sense."
Touya hung his head, but Kero spoke in his defense, "She might have... certain reasons."
Touya's head sprung up and he set an assertive gaze on the gaurdian, "Do you know something Kero?"
Kero breathed heavily and shifted his large, shaggy head so that he faced the window and eyed the sun beams falling through it sadly, "I know many things, things maybe Sakura didn't know herself... but..." he turned his head from the glare and looked at Touya and Spinel meaningly, "For now it's been a long night. I think we should all get some sleep..."
* * *
Syaoran stripped his wet clothing and slipped into a light, silk kimono, flopping himself down into his scarecely used bed. He often fell asleep in his ratty old armchair, reading or staring into the fire. His bed was a Queen-sized and he found that it invoked far too restful a nature from him. These were not restful times.
He spent the next three hours staring at his ceiling thoughtfully, memories running through his mind like movie clips only without sound, color or lucidity. Finally, in fustration he flung himself from the bed and hastily threw on his battle shikifuku, striding out into the street with purpose and pointedly ignoring the stares he earned from his irregular dress.
When he arrived at the foot of Clow manor, he hesistated a moment. The house loomed before him darkly and smokily, like a dream vision. Syaoran's breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes momentarily and remembered the strings.
He didn't understand exactly why the thought struck him, only that it did. Eriol had caught them all up in strings, like little puppets, and made him and Sakura fight each other. It was one of the first trials and it hurt, because at the the time Syaoran had been madly in love with the female cardcaptor, even if he'd had a hard time admitting it to himself.
'Maybe, that's why I'm here...' he reflected, 'Hiiragizawa has his little marrionatte strings attatched to my limbs again and now he's pulling me in all the wrong directions.' and it was working. His feet unwillingly padded along the faded footpaths in the garden as the noontime sun bruned overhead. When he entered the house, it was musty and old smelling and so dark, despite the cloudless sky, that Syaoran squinted at the flash and was blinded for just a moment.
Still, his feet lead him onwards through the confusing maze of spider-webbed hallways and darkened rooms until the piano music hit his ears. And he stopped, standing in the wide doorframe of a lofty, dim-lit room. Eriol played piano in the center of the room, dramatic and graceful like he always was about everything. There was a tall window to one side of the room, floor to ceiling with a gauzy curtain that looked as if it would flow nicely in the breeze. Syaoran closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the doorpane, listening to the music.
It was haunting and slow, soft but every so often swelling to a point, always dropping again just as the music reached it's peak. Syaoran could imagine the magician's long, slender fingers moving over the keys and began thinking aimlessly of the old days.
'What is wrong with me... give my mind a moment to linger and always it returns there.'
"Xiao Lang.Why do you hide in the shadows?"
Syaoran snapped his eyes open and stared at Eriol. The dark haired boy just continued to pay the piano inconsequentially as he spoke, "It's a pleasent surprise that you came to tell the truth. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever catch on."
"Meiling was here."Syaoran wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement, only that he knew it was true.
"Oh yes." Eriol chuckled, "She was not happy with you, Xiao Lang. She was very blood thirsty."
Syaoran growled, "What did you do to my cousin!? Where is she now!?"
"If I knew that I would tell you. Have no doubt." the music continued and for some reason, Syaoran's anger dissapated.
'I'm probably just tired.' he told himself, slowly and quietly walking towards the grand piano in the center of the room, not wanting to disrupt the melody with the 'tip-tipping' of his shiny, chinese style slippers. He sat on the bench next to Eriol, leaning his back against the piano and staring out the tall window at the darkening sunset.
"There was an old french book written about the power of music." Eriol said suddenly, "It was a dark love story about a crazy old man and a beautiful and innocent young girl who was yearning for her own lover."
"The allegory is lost on me," Syaoran muttered, "Although you are a crazy old man, I'm not beautiful, innocent or female. What's your point?"
"As I was saying, Xiao Lang, in this particular story music is highly symbolic. The entire stage is set in a glamorous Opera House. The young girl is wooed and lured into a dazed sort of love by the old man's beautiful music. And may I note that although you may not be female or innocent, you are beautiful and yearning for your lover."
"What are you saying?"
Eriol stopped playing and looked at Syaoran deeply and meaningfully, "I'm saying that my music seems to be weaving it's spell on you surprisingly well." he sighed, "Why are you here, Li-kun. You really shouldn't be here."
Syaoran started a little at that, not used to Eriol being so deferential towards him. He looked at his hands, intwined and laid neatly on his lap, "I came because I think you owe me some answers to the questions I asked last night."
Eriol raised a thin eyebrow above his large spectacles, "Are those really the answers you're looking for?"
Syaoran regarded him sharply, "What do you mean by that!?"
Eriol shrugged, "Well... let's see... it's been exactly two years and two days since Sakura Kinomoto's death and suddenly, the cards are active. It seems to me that Li Xiao Lang is not so curious about the nature of the card's mysterious behavior as he is about that gaping hole in his heart he's been conviniently ignoring since the Mistress died.
"Enter Eriol Hiiragizawa, the misplaced reincarnation of Clow who exactly two years ago, two days after Sakura Kinomoto's death, left his lover of two years, MIss Kaho, and dissapeared off the face of the planet. Resurfacing on the exact two year anniversary of the Mistress's death he speaks only to one Li Xiao Lang, expressing an unnatural trust in his darling descendant. Two days later, a very lonely, very heart-broken Li is sitting beside Mr. Hiiragizawa staring awkwardly out the window and devoid of even the lamest of excuses. Hmm, now I wonder what Mr. Hiiragizawa is supposed to think about all of this?"
Syaoran made a disgusted expression and turned his face, "You're imagination is over-reacting. I told you why I came."
"Well, then I suppose I'll have to believe you." Eriol ran his fingers over the piano keys and began playing again. This time, the tune was morbid and violent. There were two distinctive parts winding in and out of each other, unmistakably the same song but entirely different tunes, "It's called a counterpoint." the dark haired boy stated slowly, "Isn't that what you wanted? You're so caught up in your own misery, Little Wolf, that you fail to notice the sorrow of others. I could give you everything you want, free of any emotional commitment, but you would just complain that it came too easy, wouldn't you?"
Syaoran was lost. Eriol's words were always cryptic and like poetry. He listened to them wash over like a wave but had to work to grasp the meaning beneath them, "Hiiragizawa..." he whispered, "You're not making any sense..."
"Maybe not, but my words are pretty and isn't that what matters in the end. Do you want more?" Before Syaoran could disagree Eriol's arms had moved and he was pinned between the piano and the magician's chest. His pulse hastened as Eriol leaned forwards and whispered against his ear: " 'There's rosemary, that's for rememberence: pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.' "
"Sha... Shakespeare." Syaoran said shakily, "Those are the words of Ophelia, half-mad and suicidal. Are you trying to tell me something, Hiiragizawa?"
" 'Here's some daisies; I would give you violets but they all withered and died.' Shakespeare was a master at speaking pretty words devoid of any meaning. That's all you want from me, and perhaps a good lay or two, even if that direct thought has never once crossed your mind. But the question here is: why am I so willing to indulge you?"
Syaoran was trembling in the cage of Eriol's arms, desperately trying to focus on anything but the warm tickle of the magician's spicy breath on his neck. Eriol drew back and regarded the chinese boy ruefully, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his left hand, then cupping that same hand around Syaoran's dark cheek, "Truth be told, Xiao Lang, if you weren't so pretty and I weren't so insane we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."
Syaoran placed his hand on Eriol's chest, pushing him away, if hardly, "Stop it, Hiiragizawa. This isn't funny..."
"Then tell me why you're here, Xiao Lang."
Syaoran shifted uncomfortably as Eriol loosened his advance, both of them sprawled awkwardly against the piano edge. 'Why am I here?' he tried all the old reasons, but non of them fit, 'I'm here because...' he remember the strings, 'Because I was...'
"I was drawn here." Syaoran replied breathlessly, "It wasn't my choice."
Eriol smiled grimly and traced the lines of Syaoran's jaw with his thumb. Then, he leaned forwards. Syaoran shuddered when their lips met, but didn't draw away, there was nowhere to draw away to. His fists were clenched and his eyes wide, but slowly his eyelids dropped closed and his fists loosened, resting softly against Eriol chest instead of violently gripping the flaps of his cloak. His mouth opened and closed dryly, like a thirsty man questing for water, but what he met was the insistant pressure of Eriol's lips.
When the taller boy finally broke it off, Syaoran lingered a moment, eyes glazed and movements muted and dream-like. Eriol smiled at him wryly.
"Come now, Xiao Lang, that was much too easy."
Syaoran's eyes opened completely and he stared up at the magician in horror, hands still clutching his robes like he was going to topple headfirst from his uncomfortable perch on the piano chair, "What are you doing!?" he demanded.
"Well, I thought that was obvious, especially since you were being uncharacteristically cooperative."
Syaoran shook his head, "No, I don't..." whatever he was about to say was drowned out by the press of Eriol's lips again, then turned into a gasp as the magician brushed his kisses along his taut jawline and exposed neck. Syaoran felt himself being eased backwards and flung out an arm to support himself, hitting only piano keys. The instrument made a long, sick rumbling of protest as Syaoran's hand slammed down, then an even louder ill-toned chord as the captor's shoulder blades hit a good portion of it's length. Syaoran arched into Eriol's deepening kisses, throwing his arms around the dark-haired boy's back.
'This is a problem.' Syaoran realized, dociley allowing Eriol to trace the fine lines of his gums teasingly with his tounge, 'There is something fundamentally wrong with this.' but frankly, he had stopped caring.
"I think that's enough music for now..."
The piano moaned loudly and Eriol rose, dragging a gasping Syaoran with him. The instrument was still ringing as Eriol grinned madly and swooped Syaoran up into his arms with unnatural ease. The captor didn't trust himself enough to say anything and simply regarded Eriol with an expression halfway between a glare and curiosity.
"You'll be a cold lover." Eriol stated mildly, "But then again, so am I..."
* * *
"I'm not your plaything, old man..." Syaoran said sometime later, a half growl rather characteristic of him, a half gasp as Eriol ran deft fingers across his bare spine, tugging his shirt over his shoulders. He attepted a glare, but his jaw was shuddering uncontrollably.
"I know." Eriol assured, almost cooing as he systematically removed the chinese boy's multi-layered shikifuku.
"And don't go getting any ideas that I love you." Syaoran muttered.
"I know." Eriol was now unbutting his own robes, mild sadness touching his unruffled apperance.
"Or even that I care about you..." Syaoran continued.
"I know."
"... I hate you." the young captor's voice was weak. Frightened. Vunerable, almost. The words 'I hate you' held more signifigance, more emotion than he was willing to allow himself to realize.
"I know." Eriol allowed Syaoran to remove his glasses with trembling hands. He smiled enigmatically as he leaned the boy into the bed with cool expretise.
"I do hate you... I just..."Syaoran's face screwed up and he gasped again as Eriol drew him in, chattering teeth resumed.
"Hush Little Wofl..." Eriol breathed reassuringly, "I know..."
Syaoran nodded, but as Eriol's lips brushed his, he jolted and pushed the taller boy away, eyes quivering with uncertainty and fear. "Remember..." he tried to sound severe, but his voice was quiet in the darkness of the confined room, "Don't toy with me..."
Eriol drew away, a faint air of one insulted surrounding him. "Perhaps you don't understand, Xiao Lang..." his tone was even, his deaneour cold, but his voice held the slightest edge of sharp anger, "Have I not made you understand? I am not the omnipotent being I am believed to be." his voice dropped to barely a whisper, "I am not as strong as you think I am, Xiao Lang. I am not as certain. Not as in control. I have my insecurities. I am not Clow." he said those final words firmly. They were truth, but still, Syaoran shifted uncomfotably.
"I don't trust you." he said finally.
The corners of Eriol's lips truned upwards and he touched his nose to Syaoran's seductively, "Ah, but you should, Little Wolf..." he chuckled huskily, "I love you, you know that?"
"Wha... what?" Syaoran fell back obidiently at those words studying Eriol more intently then he ever had except, perhaps, for the day they had met. It was hard to discearn fact from fiction anymore, but the magician had been right about one thing- there had been a gap in Syaoran's heart ever since the day Sakura died. A widening hole that had gotten used to devoted affection and that liked being told that it was loved.
He sighed, finally giving into the irresistable tug, and relaxed in Eriol's tight embrace. 'Well, here I am Hiiragizawa' he thought bitterly, 'Let the puppet master weave his web...'
* * *
Syaoran blinked awake blurrily, noticing the unfamiliar surroundings first, the acing pain in his joints second. Third, he noticed that he was naked and at this point he became worried, as his memory was not offering up any clear explainations for what the hell had happened to him.
"Good morning Xiao Lang. Did you sleep well?"
Every muscel in Syaoran's body went frigid as he stuffly turned his neck to see none other than Eriol Hiiragizawa seated calmly at one end of the large room, lost in a high-backed and a heavy text book, his glasses hanging percariously on the edge of his nose. That's when it all came back to him.
"Oh. Shit." Syaoran fell back helplessly into the pillows and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself away.
"I hope you don't mind. You needed sleep so I took a few liberties and lulled you with a sleeping spell."
"Those don't seem to be the only liberties you took."
Eriol grinned mildly and closed his book gracefully, stading in the same fluid movement, "Please, Xiao Lang. That hurts."
"It better damn hurt." the chinese boy growled, clutching the bedsheet to his naked body as he fumbled around looking for his clothes and grumbling to himself about how much he must missed, sleeping through the day. Eriol just rolled his dark eyes and left the room.
It wasn't until Syaoran was nearly dressed did the brevity of the situation really hit him. He buttoned up the sleeves of his Shikifuku, balking at the nasty tear down the front of the white undershirt when he realized: 'I slept with Hiiragizawa.'
He let the last button fall loose and fell backwards, catching himself on the edge of the bed and sitting down soundly: 'I slept with Hiiragizawa. What the hell was I thinking!? What the hell kind of state of mind was I in that made me possibly feel that it was a good idea to SLEEP with Hiiragizawa!?' he shook his head helplessly and ran his hand through his messy hair, 'I have to stop off at home first, I can't go see the others like this. What are they going to think? What the hell do I think!?'
He bit his lip and raised his gaze to study the ceiling only to find that he was staring at the top of a large, canopy bed. The black curtains were drawn back, the satin sheets all a mess and the four posts were engravd with various mythical, symbolic creatures. It had to have been Hiiragizawa's private bedroom, more evidence of this could be seen by the telescope leaning against the window and the massive bookshelf embedded into the south wall.
'Oh, God, God, God. May the spirits help me, I have to get out of here.' he stood and exited to room hastily, finishing the last fastnings and buttonings on the run. He headed for the exit, but was stopped by the sound of Eriol's silken voice.
"Xiao Lang, were you planning on leaving without saying farewell?"
Eriol had his arms crossed and was wearing a ridiculous pout. Syaoran sighed and approached him, glaring slightly but feeling guilt as well.
'What the hell have I done? Does this make us lovers now?'
Eriol nodded into a shallow bow, "I apologize for any disrespect I may have inadvertantly shown you." he said neutrally. Syaoran gulped. What kind of a game did he think he was playing.
They stared each other down for an unbearably long few moments, so unbearable that it was Syaoran who finally sputtered out in fustration and closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a surprisingly tender and lingering kiss that lasted far longer than Syaoran had intended it to. Eriol broke it off, tracing his long fingers along Syaoran's cheekbones and grinning triumphantly.
"I've won." he murmered.
* * *
Through Meiling's eyes the world was colorless. She clenched her hands into angry, painful fists as she stumbled through the countryside, her gaze barely passing over the black trees, white sky and gray water. She knew where she was going, but at the same time she was lost.
Syaoran was supposed to have saved her. Syaoran was supposed to understand how hurt she was, how much he had wronged her. Then, when something went terribly wrong he was supposed to cry out in shock and gather her up in his strong arms and say:
'Meiling, my cousin! My eternal friend! I am so sorry for every wrong thing I've ever done! Will you forgive me? Do I even deserve your forgivness!?'
And then she was supposed to laugh in a charming matter and tap his head, saying: "Oh Xiao Lang you silly little boy. Of course I forgive you, what's family for after all?"
Cue sappy music and obligatory pink sunset. Syaoran, Meiling and Tomoyo all link arms and go home happyily ever after. Roll credits.
Funny how life never worked out that way. Funny how in your mind you always imagine it to, like it's a written script and who knows? Maybe it is, the only thing for certain is that it never works out the way you want it to, because someone else is writing it. Someone cruel and powerful.
Like Hiiragizawa.
Meiling fell to her knees, half out of exhaustion and half because she was laughing to hard to keep herself upright anymore. Tears rolled down her eyes and she closed her fingers around the cool grass. She was laughing because she had finally discovered the meaning of it all- Clow was writing the script. Sakura's death, Syaoran's betrayal, Yuki and Yue's problems. Even his own problems- Eriol's problems- all of it was a game to the ancient musician and they were his willing puppets.
If the others knew. If only Syaoran knew. Of course, she could tell them, go back home and warn them all of their impeding doom due to the fact that they were all just puppets twirling and dipping to some perverted old man's twisted desires but she had other plans. For now, she would just sit back and watch the dance...
Cessation
Izzy Girl
VIII Listen to the Music of the Night
Meiling was gone.
Syaoran blinked blurrily through his narrow vision, staring out at the damp ground and scattered bodies around him. He grunted and slowly worked his numb arms so that they lifted him to his knees. Kero was shaking the water droplets from his thick fur and here and there, men and women were coming to their senses. Tomoyo sat in the middle of all this, head bowed and legs crossed in their impeccable, black jeans. She turned her head quickly as Syaoran stumbled towards her and fell by her side. She stared at him with wide, lavendar eyes.
"She was here, Syaoran. I saw her."
Syaoran stared at the card clenched tightly in Tomoyo's delicate hands and his eyes widened.
"The Watery!" he gasped, "Tomoyo, did... did you..."
She shook her head vehemently, strands of fine, wet hair coming undone from her thick braid, "No. She caught it. And she sealed it, she was protecting us the whole time!"
The girl's words were uncharacteristcally frantic and they all ran together. Syaoran carelessly slung an arm over her shoulder, more to support himself then to comfort her, and raised his eyes to the horizen. The sun was rising over the building tops and no longer were the cards wreaking havoc upon the city. Perhaps they had all been caught. Or perhaps the sun had made them dormant
Or maybe it was crazy old man Clow playing tricks with their minds again.
"Syao-chan, aren't you listening! Don't you care? She was here! She fought the Watery and saved us!"
Finally, Syaoran processed the fluid words Tomoyo was blurting, rolling them over and over in his mind, until finally: "Who do you mean, Tomoyo? Who fought the cards?"
Tomoyo widened her doe-soft eyes and gripped Syaoran's arm desperately. The soft fabric of his blue sweatshirt was hopelessly soaked and heavy on his body, "Who else..." Tomoyo whispered happily, "It was Sakura!"
* * *
"The pressure must have been too much for her." they spoke in whispers, Kero, Spinel, Touya and Syaoran. Tomoyo was in her basement, digging out her old videotapes and humming to herself cheerfully and obliviously.
"Did she really seal the card? By herself?"
"I don't know, Kinomoto-san." Spinel shook his head slowly at Touya's question, "But there doesn't seem to be any other explaination."
"Unless... Sakura is really alive."
Syaoran glowered at Touya and crossed his arms, "You know that can't be true."
Touya glared right back, "How do I? How do you? We never found a body did we? We never actually BURIED her. Maybe she's not really dead?"
"Then where has she been the past four years? You really think that she would just... leave and not tell us where she was going?" Syaoran's voice held barely contained bitterness, "You tell me, Ki-no-mo-to-san, since you were her brother, but that doesn't sound like the Sakura I knew."
Touya frowned, "I didn't mean it like that, Li, I just..."
"Whatever." Syaoran hissed, "I don't like where this conversation is going. I'm leaving." so he did, and the others watched him go.
"Touchy." Spinel commented, "But he's right, what reason would the Mistress have for pretending to be dead? It doesn't really make much sense."
Touya hung his head, but Kero spoke in his defense, "She might have... certain reasons."
Touya's head sprung up and he set an assertive gaze on the gaurdian, "Do you know something Kero?"
Kero breathed heavily and shifted his large, shaggy head so that he faced the window and eyed the sun beams falling through it sadly, "I know many things, things maybe Sakura didn't know herself... but..." he turned his head from the glare and looked at Touya and Spinel meaningly, "For now it's been a long night. I think we should all get some sleep..."
* * *
Syaoran stripped his wet clothing and slipped into a light, silk kimono, flopping himself down into his scarecely used bed. He often fell asleep in his ratty old armchair, reading or staring into the fire. His bed was a Queen-sized and he found that it invoked far too restful a nature from him. These were not restful times.
He spent the next three hours staring at his ceiling thoughtfully, memories running through his mind like movie clips only without sound, color or lucidity. Finally, in fustration he flung himself from the bed and hastily threw on his battle shikifuku, striding out into the street with purpose and pointedly ignoring the stares he earned from his irregular dress.
When he arrived at the foot of Clow manor, he hesistated a moment. The house loomed before him darkly and smokily, like a dream vision. Syaoran's breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes momentarily and remembered the strings.
He didn't understand exactly why the thought struck him, only that it did. Eriol had caught them all up in strings, like little puppets, and made him and Sakura fight each other. It was one of the first trials and it hurt, because at the the time Syaoran had been madly in love with the female cardcaptor, even if he'd had a hard time admitting it to himself.
'Maybe, that's why I'm here...' he reflected, 'Hiiragizawa has his little marrionatte strings attatched to my limbs again and now he's pulling me in all the wrong directions.' and it was working. His feet unwillingly padded along the faded footpaths in the garden as the noontime sun bruned overhead. When he entered the house, it was musty and old smelling and so dark, despite the cloudless sky, that Syaoran squinted at the flash and was blinded for just a moment.
Still, his feet lead him onwards through the confusing maze of spider-webbed hallways and darkened rooms until the piano music hit his ears. And he stopped, standing in the wide doorframe of a lofty, dim-lit room. Eriol played piano in the center of the room, dramatic and graceful like he always was about everything. There was a tall window to one side of the room, floor to ceiling with a gauzy curtain that looked as if it would flow nicely in the breeze. Syaoran closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the doorpane, listening to the music.
It was haunting and slow, soft but every so often swelling to a point, always dropping again just as the music reached it's peak. Syaoran could imagine the magician's long, slender fingers moving over the keys and began thinking aimlessly of the old days.
'What is wrong with me... give my mind a moment to linger and always it returns there.'
"Xiao Lang.Why do you hide in the shadows?"
Syaoran snapped his eyes open and stared at Eriol. The dark haired boy just continued to pay the piano inconsequentially as he spoke, "It's a pleasent surprise that you came to tell the truth. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever catch on."
"Meiling was here."Syaoran wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement, only that he knew it was true.
"Oh yes." Eriol chuckled, "She was not happy with you, Xiao Lang. She was very blood thirsty."
Syaoran growled, "What did you do to my cousin!? Where is she now!?"
"If I knew that I would tell you. Have no doubt." the music continued and for some reason, Syaoran's anger dissapated.
'I'm probably just tired.' he told himself, slowly and quietly walking towards the grand piano in the center of the room, not wanting to disrupt the melody with the 'tip-tipping' of his shiny, chinese style slippers. He sat on the bench next to Eriol, leaning his back against the piano and staring out the tall window at the darkening sunset.
"There was an old french book written about the power of music." Eriol said suddenly, "It was a dark love story about a crazy old man and a beautiful and innocent young girl who was yearning for her own lover."
"The allegory is lost on me," Syaoran muttered, "Although you are a crazy old man, I'm not beautiful, innocent or female. What's your point?"
"As I was saying, Xiao Lang, in this particular story music is highly symbolic. The entire stage is set in a glamorous Opera House. The young girl is wooed and lured into a dazed sort of love by the old man's beautiful music. And may I note that although you may not be female or innocent, you are beautiful and yearning for your lover."
"What are you saying?"
Eriol stopped playing and looked at Syaoran deeply and meaningfully, "I'm saying that my music seems to be weaving it's spell on you surprisingly well." he sighed, "Why are you here, Li-kun. You really shouldn't be here."
Syaoran started a little at that, not used to Eriol being so deferential towards him. He looked at his hands, intwined and laid neatly on his lap, "I came because I think you owe me some answers to the questions I asked last night."
Eriol raised a thin eyebrow above his large spectacles, "Are those really the answers you're looking for?"
Syaoran regarded him sharply, "What do you mean by that!?"
Eriol shrugged, "Well... let's see... it's been exactly two years and two days since Sakura Kinomoto's death and suddenly, the cards are active. It seems to me that Li Xiao Lang is not so curious about the nature of the card's mysterious behavior as he is about that gaping hole in his heart he's been conviniently ignoring since the Mistress died.
"Enter Eriol Hiiragizawa, the misplaced reincarnation of Clow who exactly two years ago, two days after Sakura Kinomoto's death, left his lover of two years, MIss Kaho, and dissapeared off the face of the planet. Resurfacing on the exact two year anniversary of the Mistress's death he speaks only to one Li Xiao Lang, expressing an unnatural trust in his darling descendant. Two days later, a very lonely, very heart-broken Li is sitting beside Mr. Hiiragizawa staring awkwardly out the window and devoid of even the lamest of excuses. Hmm, now I wonder what Mr. Hiiragizawa is supposed to think about all of this?"
Syaoran made a disgusted expression and turned his face, "You're imagination is over-reacting. I told you why I came."
"Well, then I suppose I'll have to believe you." Eriol ran his fingers over the piano keys and began playing again. This time, the tune was morbid and violent. There were two distinctive parts winding in and out of each other, unmistakably the same song but entirely different tunes, "It's called a counterpoint." the dark haired boy stated slowly, "Isn't that what you wanted? You're so caught up in your own misery, Little Wolf, that you fail to notice the sorrow of others. I could give you everything you want, free of any emotional commitment, but you would just complain that it came too easy, wouldn't you?"
Syaoran was lost. Eriol's words were always cryptic and like poetry. He listened to them wash over like a wave but had to work to grasp the meaning beneath them, "Hiiragizawa..." he whispered, "You're not making any sense..."
"Maybe not, but my words are pretty and isn't that what matters in the end. Do you want more?" Before Syaoran could disagree Eriol's arms had moved and he was pinned between the piano and the magician's chest. His pulse hastened as Eriol leaned forwards and whispered against his ear: " 'There's rosemary, that's for rememberence: pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.' "
"Sha... Shakespeare." Syaoran said shakily, "Those are the words of Ophelia, half-mad and suicidal. Are you trying to tell me something, Hiiragizawa?"
" 'Here's some daisies; I would give you violets but they all withered and died.' Shakespeare was a master at speaking pretty words devoid of any meaning. That's all you want from me, and perhaps a good lay or two, even if that direct thought has never once crossed your mind. But the question here is: why am I so willing to indulge you?"
Syaoran was trembling in the cage of Eriol's arms, desperately trying to focus on anything but the warm tickle of the magician's spicy breath on his neck. Eriol drew back and regarded the chinese boy ruefully, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his left hand, then cupping that same hand around Syaoran's dark cheek, "Truth be told, Xiao Lang, if you weren't so pretty and I weren't so insane we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."
Syaoran placed his hand on Eriol's chest, pushing him away, if hardly, "Stop it, Hiiragizawa. This isn't funny..."
"Then tell me why you're here, Xiao Lang."
Syaoran shifted uncomfortably as Eriol loosened his advance, both of them sprawled awkwardly against the piano edge. 'Why am I here?' he tried all the old reasons, but non of them fit, 'I'm here because...' he remember the strings, 'Because I was...'
"I was drawn here." Syaoran replied breathlessly, "It wasn't my choice."
Eriol smiled grimly and traced the lines of Syaoran's jaw with his thumb. Then, he leaned forwards. Syaoran shuddered when their lips met, but didn't draw away, there was nowhere to draw away to. His fists were clenched and his eyes wide, but slowly his eyelids dropped closed and his fists loosened, resting softly against Eriol chest instead of violently gripping the flaps of his cloak. His mouth opened and closed dryly, like a thirsty man questing for water, but what he met was the insistant pressure of Eriol's lips.
When the taller boy finally broke it off, Syaoran lingered a moment, eyes glazed and movements muted and dream-like. Eriol smiled at him wryly.
"Come now, Xiao Lang, that was much too easy."
Syaoran's eyes opened completely and he stared up at the magician in horror, hands still clutching his robes like he was going to topple headfirst from his uncomfortable perch on the piano chair, "What are you doing!?" he demanded.
"Well, I thought that was obvious, especially since you were being uncharacteristically cooperative."
Syaoran shook his head, "No, I don't..." whatever he was about to say was drowned out by the press of Eriol's lips again, then turned into a gasp as the magician brushed his kisses along his taut jawline and exposed neck. Syaoran felt himself being eased backwards and flung out an arm to support himself, hitting only piano keys. The instrument made a long, sick rumbling of protest as Syaoran's hand slammed down, then an even louder ill-toned chord as the captor's shoulder blades hit a good portion of it's length. Syaoran arched into Eriol's deepening kisses, throwing his arms around the dark-haired boy's back.
'This is a problem.' Syaoran realized, dociley allowing Eriol to trace the fine lines of his gums teasingly with his tounge, 'There is something fundamentally wrong with this.' but frankly, he had stopped caring.
"I think that's enough music for now..."
The piano moaned loudly and Eriol rose, dragging a gasping Syaoran with him. The instrument was still ringing as Eriol grinned madly and swooped Syaoran up into his arms with unnatural ease. The captor didn't trust himself enough to say anything and simply regarded Eriol with an expression halfway between a glare and curiosity.
"You'll be a cold lover." Eriol stated mildly, "But then again, so am I..."
* * *
"I'm not your plaything, old man..." Syaoran said sometime later, a half growl rather characteristic of him, a half gasp as Eriol ran deft fingers across his bare spine, tugging his shirt over his shoulders. He attepted a glare, but his jaw was shuddering uncontrollably.
"I know." Eriol assured, almost cooing as he systematically removed the chinese boy's multi-layered shikifuku.
"And don't go getting any ideas that I love you." Syaoran muttered.
"I know." Eriol was now unbutting his own robes, mild sadness touching his unruffled apperance.
"Or even that I care about you..." Syaoran continued.
"I know."
"... I hate you." the young captor's voice was weak. Frightened. Vunerable, almost. The words 'I hate you' held more signifigance, more emotion than he was willing to allow himself to realize.
"I know." Eriol allowed Syaoran to remove his glasses with trembling hands. He smiled enigmatically as he leaned the boy into the bed with cool expretise.
"I do hate you... I just..."Syaoran's face screwed up and he gasped again as Eriol drew him in, chattering teeth resumed.
"Hush Little Wofl..." Eriol breathed reassuringly, "I know..."
Syaoran nodded, but as Eriol's lips brushed his, he jolted and pushed the taller boy away, eyes quivering with uncertainty and fear. "Remember..." he tried to sound severe, but his voice was quiet in the darkness of the confined room, "Don't toy with me..."
Eriol drew away, a faint air of one insulted surrounding him. "Perhaps you don't understand, Xiao Lang..." his tone was even, his deaneour cold, but his voice held the slightest edge of sharp anger, "Have I not made you understand? I am not the omnipotent being I am believed to be." his voice dropped to barely a whisper, "I am not as strong as you think I am, Xiao Lang. I am not as certain. Not as in control. I have my insecurities. I am not Clow." he said those final words firmly. They were truth, but still, Syaoran shifted uncomfotably.
"I don't trust you." he said finally.
The corners of Eriol's lips truned upwards and he touched his nose to Syaoran's seductively, "Ah, but you should, Little Wolf..." he chuckled huskily, "I love you, you know that?"
"Wha... what?" Syaoran fell back obidiently at those words studying Eriol more intently then he ever had except, perhaps, for the day they had met. It was hard to discearn fact from fiction anymore, but the magician had been right about one thing- there had been a gap in Syaoran's heart ever since the day Sakura died. A widening hole that had gotten used to devoted affection and that liked being told that it was loved.
He sighed, finally giving into the irresistable tug, and relaxed in Eriol's tight embrace. 'Well, here I am Hiiragizawa' he thought bitterly, 'Let the puppet master weave his web...'
* * *
Syaoran blinked awake blurrily, noticing the unfamiliar surroundings first, the acing pain in his joints second. Third, he noticed that he was naked and at this point he became worried, as his memory was not offering up any clear explainations for what the hell had happened to him.
"Good morning Xiao Lang. Did you sleep well?"
Every muscel in Syaoran's body went frigid as he stuffly turned his neck to see none other than Eriol Hiiragizawa seated calmly at one end of the large room, lost in a high-backed and a heavy text book, his glasses hanging percariously on the edge of his nose. That's when it all came back to him.
"Oh. Shit." Syaoran fell back helplessly into the pillows and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself away.
"I hope you don't mind. You needed sleep so I took a few liberties and lulled you with a sleeping spell."
"Those don't seem to be the only liberties you took."
Eriol grinned mildly and closed his book gracefully, stading in the same fluid movement, "Please, Xiao Lang. That hurts."
"It better damn hurt." the chinese boy growled, clutching the bedsheet to his naked body as he fumbled around looking for his clothes and grumbling to himself about how much he must missed, sleeping through the day. Eriol just rolled his dark eyes and left the room.
It wasn't until Syaoran was nearly dressed did the brevity of the situation really hit him. He buttoned up the sleeves of his Shikifuku, balking at the nasty tear down the front of the white undershirt when he realized: 'I slept with Hiiragizawa.'
He let the last button fall loose and fell backwards, catching himself on the edge of the bed and sitting down soundly: 'I slept with Hiiragizawa. What the hell was I thinking!? What the hell kind of state of mind was I in that made me possibly feel that it was a good idea to SLEEP with Hiiragizawa!?' he shook his head helplessly and ran his hand through his messy hair, 'I have to stop off at home first, I can't go see the others like this. What are they going to think? What the hell do I think!?'
He bit his lip and raised his gaze to study the ceiling only to find that he was staring at the top of a large, canopy bed. The black curtains were drawn back, the satin sheets all a mess and the four posts were engravd with various mythical, symbolic creatures. It had to have been Hiiragizawa's private bedroom, more evidence of this could be seen by the telescope leaning against the window and the massive bookshelf embedded into the south wall.
'Oh, God, God, God. May the spirits help me, I have to get out of here.' he stood and exited to room hastily, finishing the last fastnings and buttonings on the run. He headed for the exit, but was stopped by the sound of Eriol's silken voice.
"Xiao Lang, were you planning on leaving without saying farewell?"
Eriol had his arms crossed and was wearing a ridiculous pout. Syaoran sighed and approached him, glaring slightly but feeling guilt as well.
'What the hell have I done? Does this make us lovers now?'
Eriol nodded into a shallow bow, "I apologize for any disrespect I may have inadvertantly shown you." he said neutrally. Syaoran gulped. What kind of a game did he think he was playing.
They stared each other down for an unbearably long few moments, so unbearable that it was Syaoran who finally sputtered out in fustration and closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a surprisingly tender and lingering kiss that lasted far longer than Syaoran had intended it to. Eriol broke it off, tracing his long fingers along Syaoran's cheekbones and grinning triumphantly.
"I've won." he murmered.
* * *
Through Meiling's eyes the world was colorless. She clenched her hands into angry, painful fists as she stumbled through the countryside, her gaze barely passing over the black trees, white sky and gray water. She knew where she was going, but at the same time she was lost.
Syaoran was supposed to have saved her. Syaoran was supposed to understand how hurt she was, how much he had wronged her. Then, when something went terribly wrong he was supposed to cry out in shock and gather her up in his strong arms and say:
'Meiling, my cousin! My eternal friend! I am so sorry for every wrong thing I've ever done! Will you forgive me? Do I even deserve your forgivness!?'
And then she was supposed to laugh in a charming matter and tap his head, saying: "Oh Xiao Lang you silly little boy. Of course I forgive you, what's family for after all?"
Cue sappy music and obligatory pink sunset. Syaoran, Meiling and Tomoyo all link arms and go home happyily ever after. Roll credits.
Funny how life never worked out that way. Funny how in your mind you always imagine it to, like it's a written script and who knows? Maybe it is, the only thing for certain is that it never works out the way you want it to, because someone else is writing it. Someone cruel and powerful.
Like Hiiragizawa.
Meiling fell to her knees, half out of exhaustion and half because she was laughing to hard to keep herself upright anymore. Tears rolled down her eyes and she closed her fingers around the cool grass. She was laughing because she had finally discovered the meaning of it all- Clow was writing the script. Sakura's death, Syaoran's betrayal, Yuki and Yue's problems. Even his own problems- Eriol's problems- all of it was a game to the ancient musician and they were his willing puppets.
If the others knew. If only Syaoran knew. Of course, she could tell them, go back home and warn them all of their impeding doom due to the fact that they were all just puppets twirling and dipping to some perverted old man's twisted desires but she had other plans. For now, she would just sit back and watch the dance...