A/N: I'm feeling angsty today. So there. Insta-heartbreak. Haha.
CCS would be mine. Someday. Take that!
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- - - - -
ChronicallyLate
SakuraSyaoran
- - - - -
Syaoran sighed.
He knew it.
He should've known.
She didn't take this dinner seriously enough to make sure she was on time.
Either that, or she was too pissed off at him to care.
He bit his lip, and got to his feet, tempted to just throw the bouquet into the restaurant's meticously manicured flowerboxes. He did pay for reservations that he would not use, anyway.
Glaring at the ground but feeling utterly devastated inside, he chucked the flowers into the enclosed mini-orchards. They's decay into fertilizer and he would have done the world a favor. He stepped heavily back inside Claire & Bonné's cool interior, which, insultingly, was filled with couples and such. He felt like flying back to China and staying there. In fact, he would fly back to China right after he got out of this restaurant.
"Mr. Li," the manager called, blatantly ignoring that he had just thrown a bouquet of half-wilted flowers into his restaurant's immaculate flowerbox. "It's already eight o' clock , on the do--aah."
"Good evening, Sir. Is a certain Syaoran Li still here?" a panicked voice asked.
He felt he could've melted into a puddle on the floor in relief. He ignored the stares of the patrons, berating himself for not having faith that Sakura could come on time, if she wanted to. It suddenly seemed like a very bad decision that he had thrown the bouquet away.
He whirled around, unable to keep a grin off his face.
To say his heart stopped would be an understatement, as he took in Sakura's appearance. It was pretty obvious that Tomoyo had a hand in this. He planned on asking his mother to sign that contract of Li Corporations and Daidouji Designs the first thing tomorrow morning.
Thank Tomoyo.
Thank Tomoyo.
She was wearing a snowy white, lace-strapped gown, with loose folds of cloth that draped beautifully over her body. Silver ribbon encircled her wrists and waist, and white sheer chiffon cascaded from her shoulders in the semblance of sleeves. Silver stilettos graced her delicate feet, and his friendship ring sparkled from her left hand. She had left her hair unadorned, and simple diamond studs completed the look. Her makeup, dab of silver shadow, blush, and sheer lip gloss, was light enough not to be noticed, except when scrutinized closely. Which was exactly what he was doing right now.
He tilted his head appreciatively. Wow. In the right light, she looked like an angel. His very own angel.
Sakura flipped her hair bashfully, and smiled. "You can stop staring now, Syao-kun."
"Eh." He felt as nervous as the day he asked her to be his girlfriend. Which was saying something, since it had been five years ago. "Listen, Sakura, er, " he paused, biting his lip. "It turns out we didn't do the thesis yesterday. It was moved to next week."
"...aand..?" she said mischievously, tapping her foot on the tiled floor.
He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for blowing up like that. Guess I overreacted a bit."
"It's okay. I knew you were fed up with me getting late," she said gently, coming up to him and patting him on the shoulder. "I should be sorry too."
Syaoran opened his mouth, but snapped it shut once more, words dying in his throat. All that mattered was that Sakura wasn't mad at him. It made living a whole lot easier. He took her hand and led her through the restaurant to their table.
"Don't worry, I'll never be late again," Sakura said beside him determinedly.
Syaoran laughed.
- - - - -
"Eriol, where did you put the remote?" Tomoyo asked, turning over the purple cushions of her room's loveseat. Her fianceé shrugged, and yawned widely as he made himself comfortable on her bed. Nevermind that they were engaged; it was still her bed he was turning into ground zero, from the way he was throwing her pillows about.
"How would I know? It's your room, it's your TV, it's your mansion," he said in a supremely bored voice.
Her eyes flashed at his tone of voice, and she whipped her head up. He was smirking that irritating Cheshire smirk of his. "Give it to me."
"Give what?" he said innocently, blinking.
"Eriol-kun."
"Tomoyo-chan."
"You asked for it!" she yelled, getting on her bed and plunging her hand beneath his pillows, trying to find the remote. "Argh! It's just a stupid piece of plastic!" she yelled frustratedly. "We're already twenty-four, not ten!"
"My thoughts exactly," he nodded, stroking his chin with the remote he just took out from under his side of bedcovers. "It is just a stupid piece of plastic. Why's it so important to you, then?" He dodged the pillow she chucked at his head. "And to refresh your memory, I'm twenty-five, a year older than you. Ha!"
"Immature!" Tomoyo growled, tackling him and prying the remote from his hands. She sat on his knees and switched her flatscreen TV on, ignoring Eriol's protests of 'Tomoyo! Geroff me, you're heavy!' and 'Agh! You're crushing my kneecaps!' and 'I can't see the TV, you know!'. She flipped through the channels, intending to find some mindless soap opera and study their wardrobe. Hey, whatever works for the public must have at least some good basic principle.
She suddenly felt an arm around her collarbone and she was yanked backwards by the chuckling midnight-blue haired man, pulling her head down to rest on his chest. The remote was thrown upwards from her hands and he caught it easily.
"That's what you get. Remote, pssh." he said happily, channel-surfing.
Tomoyo rolled over so that she was on Eriol's other side, and she positioned herself so that her head was in the screen's direction. Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched the screen change channels. It was oddly hypnotizing.
"Can't get anything good on a Saturday night, can we?" Eriol muttered, pressing some more.
"Hey, wait, stop. Flip it back," she said suddenly, spotting a familiar scene. "Isn't that right in front of Tokyo U?"
A sixteen-wheeler and a jet-black sedan had collided in front of the University, and the reporter was talking animatedly on how it happened. Nobody died but the passengers of the sedan had been sent to the hospital with critical injuries, she related, because the sedan had been totaled into something that remotely looked like a crushed sardine can. Tomoyo was exceedingly grateful Sakura's car was a marina-blue four-door sedan. Who knows what she might do if her best friend got in an accident. Syaoran would probably throw a fit that would make the world tremble in fear. Hah.
"...that's why I never let you drive, we might end up like that." Eriol's voice finished, tossing the remote to one side. She heard it topple to the carpet and she made to dive for it, but two strong hands grabbed at her shoulders and pulled her back once more.
"Eriol!" she screeched.
"Aww. Don't you find me more interesting than the stupid TV, Tomo-chan?" he laughed, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen across her face. She pouted, and sat up.
"No," she said sarcastically. "I don't."
"Is that your final answer?" Eriol growled, pushing her back down into the pillows, poising his fingers above her ribcage.
"Yep," she answered cheekily.
"You're going to regret that," he promised, fingers descending in an unmerciful dance as he started tickling her.
Tomoyo had no idea that Eriol had much, much more planned for the night, aside from tickling her to possible death from laughing too much.
- - - - -
"Erm."
"What?" she asked innocently, playing with the petals of a rose propped up against a candle-holder.
"I'm just still stunned. You look more girly than ever," Syaoran teased, and Sakura blushed spectacularly, even by candlelight.
"...is that a 'Syaoran' compliment?"
He cocked his head, and leaned forward. "You should know, we've known each other for almost fifteen years now."
She just laughed lightly, stroking the scarlet velvet petals once more. The table had already been cleared, and now only the crystal goblets and wine were left.
He studied her face by the candlelight. A delicate jaw, slanting from her small ears in a gentle sloping angle. Auburn bangs brushed sienna eyebrows (which had noticeably been thinner. Waxed, maybe?), and bright, emerald green eyes sparkled under lush ebony eyelashes. Her slight nose twitched slightly, and her naturally sakura-pink lips were curved upwards into a slight smile.
Sakura was beautiful. That was that.
"Syaoran?" her voice shook him out of his reverie.
"Huh?"
"Y'know, I've been thinking," she admitted. "Thinking about how it took so long before I realized you were the guy for me. I mean, how many years was that? I was so blind and everything that I didn't see the person for me was just beside me all this time. I'm sorry for being stupid," she blurted out, crimson pooling under her cheeks.
Taken aback, Syaoran could only say "Uh."
"...and last night I decided to make up for everything. Well. I know I won't be able to bring back the time you lost from me always being late, but I just want to say I'm sorry. Please?"
"...like I could ever say no. As long as you forgive me for being a jerk last night," he said, reaching across the table and taking her hands in his. He didn't know whose hands were colder--both of them were probably extremely nervous.
She smiled again. "Sure, I forgive you, Syao."
"That means I forgive you too," he swallowed nervously, let go of her hands, and stood up. Fireflies flitted around, making him even more nervous. He felt like he was going to pass out.
"We're leaving already?" she asked sadly as she made to stand up, but Syaoran put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"No, that's not it..." he paused, heart beating in gallops. Sakura turned to face him, expression mildly curious. "I've been thinking about us, Sakura. I--I realized that I...I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and you alone."
She gasped audibly as he went down on one knee in front of her. He brought out a small velvet jewelry box, and snapped it open, revealing a single teardrop diamond mounted on a flawless white-gold ring.
"Sakura Kinimoto, will you marry me?"
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cliffie!
I'm in the mood for them.
Makes me feel so happy.
Read and review. They make me write more.