Here's my first attempt at amini story. I thought this had a cute, simplistic plot style to it. I hope you like it!
P.S. All you reviewers of my fic, Someone Like You, you're in for a treat (hopefully) soon!
Disclaimer: I do not own Cardcaptor Sakura. CLAMP has the right to say that they do. But I do not.
I also do not own Microsoft Word, Starbucks, or any of the designer names inserted. Okay? Okay!
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Kismet
A mini fanfic by Starfire Star
Chapter One: An Inevitable Encounter
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I sat at my dining room table in my home in Tokyo. I was facing the daunting obstacle that any author should be familiar with – writer's block. And I had a bad case of it as I paused in front of my laptop, hands poised above the keyboard, contemplating what my latest storyline should be.
I glanced at the clock, pathetically hoping that time would stop so I would be able to get something down on "Document1" of Microsoft Word. I had promised him that I would get something done. Not that he's too interested in what I write. I'm a romance novelist, and romance isn't exactly his area of interest. Unless is comes to me, of course.
He suggested last night that I write something that really happened to me, instead of those hapless scenarios in my books that couldn't possibly be real. Writing, I had to admit, was my escape. I was a dreamer, so I was only too happy to get everything unreal out of my mind and onto a paper (or a computer document, for that matter).
He had left around half an hour ago with his cousin to visit an aunt that had broken her hip and was in the hospital. Great. He would be back in around an hour, and I had promised him as he went out the door that I'd have something typed down. At this rate, I'm not sure if that's possible.
So, I should write something that "really happened to me", eh? For this, I decided with a tiny smirk on my lips, I should pull some photo albums. I got off my chair and went into the living room. Where had he put all the photo albums? We had only moved in together a month ago. With me as the messy one in our relationship, he did most of the organizing. I was the one who moved the furniture around. As I thought of this, I touched my arm. Don't get me wrong, that furniture was heavy. I have sore arms to show for it.
After much searching and prodding, I finally opened a small blue cabinet. Inside, there were around ten photo albums or so, each neatly arranged and side-by-side. I looked for the section with the photo albums that I had brought. I found them. Side-by-side, were the albums labeled, "Sakura: Preschool and Kindergarten Years"; "Sakura: Elementary School Years"; "Sakura: Junior High School Years"; "Sakura: High School Years"; "Sakura: University Years"; and finally, "Sakura: Twenty-Two Years Old –" which wasn't completed yet. I was dizzy from reading all the titles. My dad made these photo albums. I didn't know I had so many pictures taken of me. I had a lot of photo albums, and I'm not even twenty-six yet! Oh, dear. Touya must have at least a hundred by now, since he's thirty years old.
I sighed, not knowing which photo album to take out. I didn't want to ruin his awesome organizing by taking them all out. I randomly selected. I took the album out to find it was labeled, "Sakura: High School Years". I shrugged as I opened it. It shouldn't be too painful.
My fingers traced the plastic covering of every picture. I was named "School Athlete" in grade eight. I laughed at my grade nine picture. I looked so shy and awkward. I laughed even harder when I saw my grade ten photos. I was on almost all teams, except for basketball. Turns out I was too short for that.
I traced my fingers over my grade ten class photo. I smiled as I found Tomoyo, standing in the second row. She was extremely pretty, even then. I laughed as I spotted all my old classmates, Rika, Chiharu, Yamazaki…
I even smiled as I saw my High School crush, Syaoran Li. Standing in the third row, his hair looked particularly messy. His amber eyes cool and collected complimented him, even though he wasn't smiling. A smile crept up my lips. I nearly laughed. High School I will never forget. Syaoran Li highlighted that part of my life.
An idea popped into my head. A picture's worth a thousand words, that's for sure. And I intended to have more than a thousand onto the computer by the time he came home. Syaoran Li led to a whole chain of events, ones that have made me a better person, and have changed some aspects of my life. If this was what he was talking about, "something that really happened to me", then those memories qualified for sure. I smiled, pleased with myself for coming up with such a simple idea. And I know he would be pleased, too. I eagerly closed the cabinet door of the photo albums and brought the photo album I was holding back to my comfortable spot at the dining room table.
I settled back down to my old position, fingers poised above the keyboard. The words started to flow.
-Age: 18 Years-
I blame it on coffee.
I had met my boyfriend at the age of eighteen, the summer before my first year of Toudai. It was a misty, rainy day, and my boyfriend and I were driving along the busy streets of Tokyo. Class had just ended. I was looking forward to a day of lounging around, and peaceful bliss with my boyfriend.
I spotted the new, local Starbucks that had been relocated here. I grinned happily. I really needed a latte. I glanced at my boyfriend, indicating I wanted to go inside. He nodded, and I eagerly jumped out of the car, into Starbucks, and sat down on one of the couches inside, praying that I hadn't sat on someone's gum. But hey, I thought the people of Starbucks had more class than that.
My boyfriend sat next to me and put his arm around me. This was the best chance for my love life yet. Here I was, a plain small-town girl in a big city with an incredibly (okay, there are way cuter guys in Tokyo, but hey, this was great for me) hot guy.
I settled into the couch, enjoying the cozy, comfortable atmosphere. My boyfriend smiled at me. He hugged me closer. Oh, I think I was about to die in content.
Then she came.
She sauntered up to us, her uniform looking way too small and skimpy for her. She looked totally hot, like a model you'd see on the runway (except with bigger boobs). I didn't know she was going to play such an important role in my life. Nothing could dim down my day. I didn't bother with the little things. I brushed off her gorgeous look, brushing it off before I could compare myself with her.
My boyfriend had dropped his arm from my shoulders immediately when he saw the girl. I flinched, like having a piece of my happy world away. I sat up and immediately ordered. "One latte, please," I told her, praying that I didn't sound incredibly stupid in the midst of all this glamour and class.
My boyfriend stuttered and managed to choke out, "a cappuccino for me." I glanced at him, frowning. Then I glanced back at the girl, who was giving my boyfriend this sultry, seductive look. My boyfriend was completely red here.
I should have said something right then and there. But I had never had a really serious relationship before and this one looked like it was getting somewhere. So I remained silent.
We obtained out beverages (this time delivered to us by a perfectly nice, un-model looking girl) and chatted. All thoughts of that weird waitress flew out of my head. Until of course, later, when she was approaching us.
My boyfriend quickly grabbed my hand and hastily led me out the door into the cool, misty air. I was clueless about the whole thing. I still had a half-full cup of coffee in my hand, lukewarm. As we walked out the door, I accidentally stepped on this chestnut-haired guy's nice white shoes. I think they were brand new Addidas, too. Aw, crap.
"Ah! Gomen nasai!" I called to him, embarrassed as my boyfriend lead me out the door.
"Come on," my boyfriend said gruffly to me. I shot an annoyed frown at him. "I wasn't done my coffee yet."
Then again, I thought to myself, maybe it was a good idea to get out of there. That model-like woman intimidated the hell out of me.
We stopped at his car, which he had parked on the side of the road. He nervously fumbled with the car keys, missing the button to unlock the car doors. I sighed and grabbed the keys out of his hands, unlocked the car doors, handed the keys back to him, and slid into the passenger seat.
"I think I left something in Starbucks. Be right back," my boyfriend said as I sat in the passenger's seat, slightly shivering in the cold car, clutching my Puma purse.
I couldn't help but have my eyes follow my boyfriend as he stepped into the casual atmosphere of Starbucks once more. As I gazed at him through the window, another thing caught my eye. It was the chestnut-haired guy. Hugging the model-look-alike. And no, it wasn't in some kind of friendly/brother-sister embrace. It was the kind of hug I gave my boyfriend, a girlfriend-boyfriend type of hug.
My eyes widened. Okay, that was odd. Too much PDA there. And while she was on the job, too! I turned away in disgust. When did people become so uncivilized? She must've gotten that job because of her looks.
What I didn't know, though, was that my boyfriend went back inside to slip the girl a piece of paper.
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After that, Starbucks had become a sort-of regular between-and-after classes kind of hangout for me and my boyfriend. It seemed like a private place for me and my boyfriend, and I normally wouldn't go in with friends or anything.
The model-look-alike was there, but I became used to her and became accustomed to ignoring her. My boyfriend was always so alert and hasty at Starbucks, though. I noticed this, but shrugged it off. Men.
I became bored with Starbucks. There wasn't much going on, and my boyfriend and I were running out of things to talk about. Plus exams were coming up, so I didn't have time to go there very often. I have to say, though, after I became bored with Starbucks, I started spending less time with my boyfriend and more with studying. I was angry at my boyfriend or anything; I was just sort of annoyed by his mood swings and everything.
Nevertheless, he still went to Starbucks to grab some coffee when he was around my place. Even after I decided coffee wasn't that great for me anyway and switched to tea, he still went to Starbucks. Sometimes he would be there (or out, I assumed) for hours at a time, but I didn't notice. I wanted to do well on those exams.
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Three and a half years later, I was still with my boyfriend. It was December, and I was preparing for a New Year's Eve party I was going to with my boyfriend. I felt so mature and so much older— I had finally lost my virginity to my boyfriend a year earlier, and I was confident that this relationship was going to get to marriage, for sure. I was doing quite well at Toudai, and my parents were so proud of me. I had gotten my own apartment (quite big and spacious for an apartment in Tokyo), and had a pretty good job as an assistant to a publishing company. Nothing could get better than this.
I straightened my long, auburn-turned-slightly-darker hair. I fluffed up my bags the best I could, and slipped into the gorgeous emerald strapless Gucci dress that I had saved up my money for four weeks.
I slipped into a pair of simple black satin pumps. I put on a small amount of makeup and used only around four of the twenty techniques my best friend Tomoyo Daidouji had showed me.
I grabbed a tiny black purse and waited for my boyfriend to arrive. I sat in the living room of my apartment and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels, bored. I glanced at the clock. Where could he be?
I called his cell phone. He answered it, sounding a bit preoccupied.
"Where are you?" I asked him. "We might be late."
"Relax," he replied. I could hear the smirk through his voice. "It's New Year's Eve. We're not going to miss out on anything."
I couldn't help but sound like a baby. But this was an important party. It was one of the few times where I could pretend to be someone important in the big city of Tokyo. "But this is important to me," I said, trying not to sound as whiny as possible.
"Don't worry, I'll be there soon," he said, hurriedly. "I gotta go. See ya."
Soon, eh? So soon is an hour later?
He arrived an hour later. I was in a bad mood by now. He honked his horn outside my apartment. He didn't even bother to come up and escort me downstairs. I glanced out the window and saw him below.
Huffily, I (almost) stomped downstairs. I didn't say a word to him as I opened the passenger door and slid in.
"You look fantastic," my boyfriend commented. I didn't say a word to him.
Throughout the ride, I told myself, Come on Sakura, don't be mad at him for this little thing. You're so close to having a clear future with him. Don't ruin it for yourself.
I was torn between listening to myself and doing completely the opposite: breaking up with him/yelling at him.
I wasn't sure if I agreed with myself anymore. I had always let things slip by so I wouldn't ruin my relationship with him. But was that really the key to happiness? Avoiding all the mistakes your partner has made?
I considered this. Had he been the greatest boyfriend? Yes, up until a certain time. Then he had been acting like a complete jerk sometimes. Sometimes he wouldn't return my phone calls. He'd mysteriously cancel our dates. Was this any way to have a great relationship?
I was so immersed in my thoughts I didn't realize we had gotten to the party. The snow was falling gently, covering the ground in powder-like snow. I hurried into the mansion, where this party was taking place, clutching my white jacket around me. I didn't even look back at my boyfriend. I was here to have a good time, and I wasn't going to let my thoughts spoil it for me.
I happily shrugged off my coat and gave it to a man who reached for it. I felt so glamorous, like a big celebrity or something. I looked around at all the people. I was disappointed. There were no celebrities or stars at this party— more like socialite-types, columnists, people like that. I blushed as I saw a few people nod approvingly at my outfit.
I tried to look as poised as possible. I swiftly moved around the room. I grabbed a martini off a waiter's platter and sipped it, looking for familiar faces.
And who did I see? Miss Starbucks-Model-Look-Alike. I nearly choked on the olive I was eating off the martini. My eyes widened as I saw who she was with— Mr. White Adidas Shoes who I had seen hugging Starbucks Model three and a half years ago.
They were posing for a photographer. She was gorgeous, wearing a short black dress that showed off her curvy features.
I looked around for my boyfriend. Sure enough, I found him at the bar. I sat next to him
"There you are!" he exclaimed to me. "What the hell were you thinking running off like that?"
"I'm sorry," I told him, flashing him a smile. Big mistake. What the hell was I thinking? I had become to accustomed to forgive him every time he made a mistake, so it was automatic.
"It's okay," my boyfriend said. "Just go ahead and have a good time, babe." He grabbed my arm.
My instincts had returned and I grabbed my arm away from him. "I'll see you later," I said, not looking at him. I lost myself in the sea of Tokyo socialites. I searched the crowd. As I was walking towards some unknown group, I bumped into someone.
It was my best friend Tomoyo Daidouji. "Oh my gosh!" she gushed. "Sakura!" she gave me a quick hug. She then scanned my outfit. "That dress is gorgeous! But if you'd let me make a few minor adjustments, it would've been so much more fab…"
I grinned at her. Then I noticed a blue-haired man at her arm. I was startled. I didn't notice he was there. I looked at him. It wasn't surprising to see Tomoyo with a different boyfriend. Not that she was a gold digger, or anything. I was damn sure that she was richer than any other man she's dated.
Tomoyo noticed me looking. She hurriedly said, "Oh! Sakura, this is Eriol Hiiragizawa. Eriol, this is Sakura Kinomoto, my best friend."
He flashed me a polite smile. "Um, excuse me, can I borrow her for a sec?" I asked him. He nodded, and I grabbed Tomoyo's arm, jerking her out of the large crowd.
"How long have you been seeing him?" I asked her. She grinned. "Two weeks!"
"Where did—" I was interrupted by a horrifying sight.
Coming straight toward us was Adidas and Starbucks Model.
I could clearly see Adidas' features: Chestnut-brown hair, amber eyes, and a gorgeous, well toned body. Oh crap.
Crap
Crap
Crap.
Adidas was familiar. And I knew exactly why.
He was none other than Syaoran Li, my Junior High School crush.
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Reviews will be embraced with loving arms! So how did you like it? X3.
This story was written to take a break from my other stories. I needed one. I was having a serious case of writer's block for all my stories, so I wrote this as a kind of medicine for it so I could get back on track again. Thanks to all my supporters of my other fics!
