One life

by Nessa Yavetil

When you are a powerful mage who reincarnates after every death, you learn to come to terms with love and loss. You learn to enjoy things while they last. But, what happens when you fall for someone who makes you believe you could change your destiny? (Sequel to "Do you remember love?" READ THAT ONE FIRST!)

2. Breathe

2. Breathe

---

I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the moment had arrived
For killing the past
And coming back to life.

(Pink Floyd - Coming Back To Life)

---

…

There's something about me and mirrors that I probably should have mentioned before.

The thing is, I hate them.

Like, really hate them.

I think it started the first time I looked at one of them and saw a face that wasn't the one I was expecting to see. I was just a little child at the time, barely starting to comprehend the world around me; but I was already beginning to realize, in a vague and obscure way, that there was something strange, something unusually off about me.

The mirror gave me confirmation; confirmation that my worst fears were real, that the nightmares I had, the atrocious, unspeakable things I saw in dreams and flashes were not dreams at all, but things that actually happened. Memories.

My memories.

I was just a little kid; too little to even understand what was going on when I stared into the mirror for the first time and saw a face that wasn't the one I expected to see; a face I couldn't recognize as my own, a face that wasn't my face.

It was scary as hell. Because it was my face. It took me a while to understand it, to understand why I was that little kid who stared back at me from the polished surface with horror-filled eyes, and that other person I remembered from my dreams.

I thought that, with time, it would get easier. It never did. It took me an entire lifetime to get used to that new face, to recognize that image I saw as my new self, to not freak out every time I looked at the mirror.

But then I died, again, and for an undefined lapse outside of time, there was peace. But that peace never lasted. Sooner or later, I found myself opening my eyes in the world again, in the flesh of another scared child, struggling with violent memories I still couldn't process or understand with my childish brain; facing yet again another mirror that showed me a face I couldn't relate to, a face I'd have to get used to, all over again. And this horrible thing just kept happening; this moment of sudden, terrifying realization, this scene that repeated itself over and over again; each time with a different face and a different mirror, yet each time just as bloodcurdling as that first one.

Humans are just not meant to be more than one person. It leads to insanity.

So, eventually, I learned to avoid mirrors. They were the only silent, cold witnesses of my many metamorphoses; they became to me like some sort of Dorian Gray's picture; something dreadful and horrible that shouldn't be looked at, a surface from where my demons haunted me. To stare at them was to be reminded that that wasn't really me, whoever I thought I was at any given moment; that this thing people saw when they looked at me wasn't a whole person but just a fragment, a mirage, an illusion, not any more real nor consistent than dreams. They reminded me that everything I was, everything I had, wouldn't last longer than a breath before it would be all gone and done and over with.

Not a pleasant feeling, I must say. People need something to hold on to, even if it's a mirage, a lie. So, in order to preserve a bit of sanity, I made a point of staying away from mirrors as much as possible. Which I had more or less accomplished... until now. It was a rather difficult thing to do in this house, so full of them; and I couldn't get rid of them, because of that stupid promise.

Oh, how I regretted that promise.

So, the damned things were everywhere, and although I was usually cautious and self-aware around them, sometimes they caught me off-guard; as I absentmindedly passed by one of them and, without meaning to, caught a glimpse of my reflection out of the corner of my eye. And it was all it took for my whole fictitious, so-called normality to fall apart like a cheap umbrella in the wind, as the image from the cold, glassy surface of the mirror stared back at me and that feeling of unreality overwhelmed me once more; as if that wasn't me, as if the eyes, the face I saw there were wrong somehow, a fake, a sham.

So, imagine the whole new level of eeriness I experienced that night when I, half-asleep and still quite shaken from the nightmare I had just woken up from, heedlessly looked into my bathroom mirror and saw a face that wasn't mine, that was never mine. A face that stared back at me like from a hundred years ago; because those eyes, those red lips, that long, dark, luscious hair... they were nothing but dust now, just memories from another life, from a time long gone. A time when I was someone else. A time when awful things happened.

"Hello, Clow," the face from the mirror said, staring at me with those unfathomable, reddish, catlike eyes. "Long time no see."

And for the life of me, I can't remember whether I just stood there, petrified, staring at the unexpected apparition; or I somehow managed to say something back, or I just yelled in horror.

Because, holy mother of all kinds of shit, it was her.

…

My eyes open, and once more I wake up dumbfounded and confused in my bed, my body shaking and a feeling of horror bursting inside my chest; but to my surprise, the first thing I see are two worried, deep violet eyes that stare at me in the semi-darkness of the bedroom. They look at me, and for a moment, who knows by the sake of what miracle, I seem to find an anchor in them; I can see myself, recognize myself in their reflection, I can almost find that nameless thing I never find in the mirror, and some inexplicable relief runs through my entire body. She's on me for some reason, and without even thinking about it I sit up and hug her, squeezing her to me with all the strength I can manage from my still shaky arms.

"It's you. Thank God," I say. "Am I awake now? For real?"

"I... think so," she says, a bit startled by my outburst.

"I'm still Eriol... right?" I whisper against her chest, still not quite believing her and still not daring to let her go. "I'm still... who I think I am?"

She pulls apart just enough to look at my face, and the shine on her eyes alone is an answer in itself, and I feel my anxiety easing down a bit.

"You don't need me to tell you that... do you? You know who you are... in your heart."

I look at her, her eyes are dark and serious but there's also tenderness in them, and something else, an understanding that is vaster and deeper than the ocean, and for a moment that's all I need, it's everything, and I can forget about dark hallways, hidden doors and bloody mirrors; I can forget about long lost faces and fear and anguish and pain, and realize I've awakened to the best possible world, to the best possible reality; and everything else are just memories and mirages and illusions.

Only then I can relax. My hands loosen a bit around her, and I feel a smile forming on my face.

"I do now."

She just smiles back. Then, I suddenly realize how strange all of this must be for her.

"I'm sorry," I say, apologetically. "You must think I'm crazy."

"No. Well... maybe a little," she says, smiling. "It's something I've wondered about... you know? How you managed to keep it together, considering all that serial reincarnation shit you have going on."

"Well, as you can see... not too well."

"Why... because you wake up a bit disoriented?" she chuckles. "Most people would end up in a straitjacket if they had to deal with the memories of hundreds of lives, like you do. I think you're doing fine. You're a bit weird, of course; but that's okay. I'm a bit weird too."

"Really?" I mutter, raising an eyebrow and staring at her a bit wryly. "I didn't notice."

"Ha-ha. What I meant is, stop worrying so much about what's normal. Don't apologize for being you. I like that we can just be weird, at least when we're together... don't you?"

I can only nod and smile.

"Absolutely."

There couldn't be a sweeter deal than that, really.

"You... weren't having an ordinary dream just now... were you?"

This time it's me the one who's a bit puzzled.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Well... you were tossing and turning, and looked like in great distress, and yet I almost couldn't wake you up; it was as if you were far, so far away... like in a different world. Then, I thought... maybe your dreams were not exactly like... well, like normal people's dreams."

"Yes... you're right. Most of my dreams aren't exactly what you would call... normal."

"How are they?"

She stares at me, very serious. I feel my puzzlement increasing.

"You want to know about my dreams?"

"Yes... why?" she says, looking a little taken aback. "You asked me about a dream of mine, too, at the bar. Remember?"

"Yeah, but... it's kind of unusual for me."

"Why?"

"I told you... the people I've known in my past lives who knew who I really was, never asked me much about this kind of thing. Some of them were too afraid to even talk to me... and the ones who weren't, didn't ask many questions either."

"Are you calling me noisy?" she says, staring at me with a strange gleam in her eyes. "I just don't get it. How could anyone not want to know more about you? You're a freaking guy with powers, with memories of thousands of years! People don't usually bump into something like that every day," she says, stopping all of a sudden when she sees the sideways glance I throw at her. "Oh, wait. I didn't mean it like that. Not like you're some kind of curiosity, or something."

I can't help but chuckle.

"I think you said it exactly like you meant it. But now that I think about it..." I say, looking at her a bit warily. "I am a curiosity, and you are noisy. You, of all people, happen to bump into things like these, literally every day. You've been hanging around magical people and creatures ever since you were a child; you know more about them than almost any other mortal. And yet, you keep digging up for more. So, what's it all about, Daidouji? Is it some kind of fetish thing? Are you researching us or something?"

She stares at me for a second, a spark of amusement in the corner of her eye.

"Okay... the jig is up," she says. "There's no point in denying it any longer, so, I'll just come clean: yes, I've been researching you. I'm a secret agent, I work for a government agency, and I'm currently on a mission to gain intel from PDIPs such as you."

"PDIPs?"

"Potentially Dangerous Individuals with Powers."

"Oh, I see. Clever."

"You're my latest subject; my orders were to gain your trust, gather all the information I could, and then, depending on the analysis results, you would probably get abducted to become part of an army of mutant freaks. But now that you've blown my cover, I'll probably have to terminate you."

"Can it wait til morning?" I say, pulling from her hair a bit as an admonish for her teasing. "So at least I can have you for a few more hours before I go."

"Oh, I see... you're not taking it seriously," she says. "Then, how about this: maybe I just happen to like you... and want to get to know you better. Would that be easier for you to understand?"

"Humm... it does sound simpler, and has a nicer ring to it, but... knowing my history, army of mutant freaks shouldn't be discarded so quickly."

She laughs.

"Well, until you decide which one to believe... will you tell me about these dreams of yours? You know..." she says, staring at me a bit coyly, "worst-case scenario, we can work out some kind of deal. I keep my mouth shut, and you let me make you a costume for the mutant army thing. What do you say? I'd make you look really hot in it."

"So... I was right, it was actually the fetish thing, after all," I say, chuckling, tugging a bit more from the lock of hair in my fingers. "And I'm supposed to be the weird one here?"

"Hey... think about it. It could be a win-win situation," she says. "With that nice butt of yours in the right pair of tights, you would absolutely kill at the mutant army thing."

"Okay... I think I'm ready to get past this and talk about my dreams."

She laughs.

"That's all I wanted."

"Well... you're persuasive," I say, chuckling. "I'll tell you anything you want, but... let's forget that disturbing conversation about tights, please." She laughs even harder. "So... what do you want to know?"

"Your dreams... how are they?"

I take a deep breath.

"I... I'll try to explain, but, it won't be an easy thing to do, since words can't really capture the experience. What I can tell you about my dreams is that they are... vivid. Extremely so. So much, sometimes they feel more real than reality itself. So much, that most times I wake up feeling like I'm actually falling asleep; like opening my eyes is actually putting a blindfold on them. The things I see in my dreams, the things I hear… I can't possibly describe them to you. They're on a different level. It's like I'm in sync with everything there is, every reality, every possibility; I see all the connections, what happened, what is happening, what will happen, what could happen... all in the same plane. Everything falls into place, everything just... makes sense. It's like I'm everywhere... see everything... know everything."

She stares at me in something like awe.

"But... that sounds awesome. Like some mystic thing, a higher level of consciousness or something... But you seemed really scared and suffering just now... when I almost couldn't wake you up."

"That's because sometimes, instead of seeing the whole, I get to see only partial things, and those may not be all that pleasant… I can't choose what I see, I can't control what happens to me when I'm asleep; but that's how important things are revealed to me... I see things that happened in other places, in other times... things that may happen in other realities... and things that are happening, or will happen, in this one."

She remains silent for a moment, eyes wide open, like suddenly startled or lost in thought. Finally, she stares at me.

"You know... it's crazy, but… just now as you spoke, I kept having this weird feeling... as if I could relate to what you were saying, to some extent. As if I had experienced that same thing at some point... only I can't remember when. But… that's ridiculous, isn't it? I don't have that kind of power. It's not possible."

I look at her, a little surprised by her words.

"Actually…" I say, still unsure if this could be a good thing or a bad one, "it's not entirely impossible. Normal humans can have this kind of dream too, maybe once or twice in a lifetime... although it's awfully rare. I've met a few who did… oracles and such, who didn't have any magical powers whatsoever, but they did have some kind of a deep, natural perception... kind of like yours, actually."

"Really?" she says, looking confused. "And how was it, for those people?"

I look at her, unsure of what to answer. Not good, was the first thing that came to mind. No good ever came from knowing more than we were supposed to; especially for normal humans without powers, and especially when they saw unpleasant things. Because they always, always tried to change what they saw; and they always, always failed. Painfully so. A flash of her, alone in a dark corridor and walking towards a certain doom, suddenly comes back to me; and I shudder. I hurry to push that thought away.

"You don't need to worry about that," I say, forcing myself to smile and stroking her face, not sure if I'm trying to reassure her, or myself. "You're not like them. You're not like anyone I've ever met before. You shouldn't worry about dreams you don't even remember having."

"And what about yours? The dream you were having just now... should I worry about that?"

I look at her, and I hesitate. But no, even though I know she might be able to understand, I can't tell her this, I can't talk to her about the horror I beheld in my dream, about the darkness that swallowed her without me being able to stop it; I can't even think about it. I can't talk about her, about that ghost from a time long past suddenly, unexpectedly reappearing in my life and filling my chest with such an ominous, dreadful feeling.

"No. It was just a nightmare. I have those too, you know. Most of it didn't even make sense," I say, and it's not entirely a lie; at least for the latter part of it. "Don't worry about it," I say, more to myself than to her, as I smile and try to push such thoughts away. "Right now it's just so good to be awake... why waste any more time on dreams, when reality has so, so much nicer things to offer, for once?" I say, stroking the side of her face and letting my fingers roam down her shoulders, her arms, relishing in the softness of her skin and the fascinating changes that show on her face as she takes the caress, and the compliment. A slight blush, the shine of her eyes still hiding a bit of concern, mixing with some trembling delight in her lower lip that makes it impossible to not kiss it... and then the slight tension in her neck, that tells me she's struggling between letting go into the kiss and the touch or keep asking about my dreams, and… yes, it was like a blindfold, exactly like a blindfold; but who would have guessed it could be one so delighting to wear... and how amazingly the world would transform in front of me when I put it on, during those short moments when I forced myself to not sense her with my powers, like now… How mystifying could it be, to not know everything, to let her touch, her voice guide me through an infinite darkness; to try to find her in the small signs she gave me with her eyes, her gestures, her silences... It was an exercise in wonder, and I found myself practicing it like a craft, learning to discover her in such a different, new way, as if her hands, her mouth, her skin were pages of a book I've always wanted to read, one that wrote and re-wrote itself as one read it and from which you could always expect surprises...

Suddenly I realize she's still on me, straddling me; I can feel the warmth of her thighs against my hips, and I interrupt the kiss, staring at her with a playful grin on my face.

"I just realized... I woke up with you on top of me. You naughty girl!"

Startled, she blushes and starts chuckling at the same time, and it's almost too damn cute to watch.

"No, I..." she babbles. "You were so deeply asleep, that I was just... you know... trying everything I could to get you back to the land of the living."

I can't help but chuckle.

"Well... thank you. It worked," I say, as I let my hands run up those warm, soft thighs, and feel them tremble a little; and I realize that I am, as a matter of fact, ridiculously thankful for being here, where I'm supposed to be. In the land of the living. "I feel very much alive now."

I see her blush and smile, in a mixture of shyness and pleasure, and any remaining heaviness and anguish from the dream end up dissolving, fading into nothingness. Maybe... it was just that, a dream. Having her like this, so close, makes me feel safe, fearless again, almost normal; and a crazy hope starts stirring in me: a hope that I could have this kind of life, that somehow I could be able to let go of my past and have a brand new beginning, one with normal dreams and normal awakenings. The ghosts that haunt me from my past somehow seem to lose solidness in her presence, in the warmth of her skin and the glow of her eyes; as if they were some kind of shield, of barrier that surrounded us and protected us, leaving them outside.

The ominous feeling is still there somewhere, deep inside my chest; but how to believe in it now, how to take it seriously without feeling delirious and stupid? In our dreams we're alone, but now I'm with her. How can I be scared of a door or a face in a mirror, how can I believe in anything but what my senses tell me? And all my senses say is her, her, her; her weight on me, her scent, those things are real, everything else is illusion, pipe-dream, madness.

She's real. I touch her, I run my hands through her skin, I draw her against me, I breathe her in. She smells like roses, like a sunset in the countryside, like rain; she smells a little bit like sex and a little bit like me, like tea leaves and mint and the wine we drank together. But especially, she smells like life; like living things.

"Mmm..." I feel her tremble a little as I rub my face, my nose against her neck, against her warm and fragrant skin, but it's more a purr than a word, a vibration in her throat, a sound of contentment that I drink with utter delight. How easy, how incredibly easy would it be now, to forget it all and just lose myself in that joyous warmth of her body and those incredible sensations I find every time her skin and mine touch and both past and future disappear, and there is only one present, one reality. But no, not just yet. Because there's still something here, bothering me, like a small, annoying bug buzzing at my ear, a question that keeps asking itself in the back of my head and that for some reason, I can't completely forget; and suddenly, after an anguish-ridden dream revolving around her, I realize it needs to be answered.

"Tomoyo," I mutter, pulling away just enough to see her face for a moment; her eyes shining in the dim light, her somewhat agitated breathing. She looks at me. "What happened today... after I left you with Sakura? Why are you really here?"

She looks a bit startled, she obviously wasn't expecting me to ask her that question. But she seems to recover rather quickly.

"No... let's not talk about Sakura now, please. I promise, I'll tell you everything... later. But now," she whispers against my ear as her arms slide around me and she pulls closer, "can we forget about Sakura, and everybody else for a while, and just be us? Just... you and me?"

I look at her, surprised to hear those words, and even more surprised to realize they're actually all I need to hear from her; the best thing she could have ever said to me.

Just you and me. Forget about Sakura... and everybody else.

I nod, and for a moment there I just look at her and everything that was weighing in my mind just fades away, dissolves into thin air as if it was nothing, and all I can think about is the sudden, irresistible urge to kiss her and pull her closer to me, an urge I cave into; and she mutters something that could have been a yes, but I don't understand nor care to understand anymore, because no other words can matter after what she has just said, nothing else can be important but this moment now, the shine of her eyes, the warmth of her body that feels so nice and good against mine... And I kiss her, restlessly, I run my hands down her back and draw her closer and I feel her sigh and shudder, and her body is so damn warm and alive and inviting that I can't not yield to it; like a lost, thirsty pilgrim who has found a hidden, magic fountain by some extraordinary twist of fortune, and by some unfathomable, inexplicable reason, has been allowed to drink from it.

I can't waste a single drop. Her touch is like the rain that falls on cracked soil after a very long drought, reviving it; something so miraculous and unhoped-for, yet at the same time so necessary, that it amazes me that I could have survived without for so long. I can't have enough, and I cling to her, I drink from her, I dive into her. Being with her like this is like finding a hidden oasis, a sanctuary, a place of rest and safety and relief; like breathing again after being deprived of breath, and for some moments I even get to glimpse, with the same clear vividness I have in my dreams, that something really strange and unprecedented is happening to me in this life. I'm feeling less and less like I've been just reincarnated... and more and more like I'm being reborn.

Reborn... into the land of the living.

…

"So… will you tell me now?" I whisper, a bit gaspy, against her ear.

She stares at me, somewhat amused.

"You don't give up easily, do you?"

"Nope."

I see her laugh, leaning against the pillow; her skin all flushed and sweaty, her eyes bright and her hair all messy, and as I look at her I realize there is no way I like seeing her more, than this.

"Alright," she says. "I know it wasn't very thoughtful of me to ask you to let me stay here again... and not even offer you an explanation."

"Not thoughtful at all," I say. "You must be the most inconsiderate guest I ever had. I don't even know why I keep letting you sleep here, I swear."

"Letting me sleep," she says, chuckling. "That's a bit of an overstatement, isn't it?"

I can't help a laugh.

"Well, whose fault is that? It was you who wanted to sleep in my room, who woke me up when I was deep asleep, and who preferred to do other things when I asked you a few innocent questions. You could just as easily have stayed in the guest room, or listen to this, not wake me, and you would be having your beauty sleep now, wouldn't you?"

"But... I like waking you," she says, staring at me with a half-innocent, half-coy smile, as she runs a finger through my arm. "You're always so... compliant."

That I did not expect, but it kind of amuses me.

"Thank you... I guess?"

"It's a compliment," she says, chuckling. "I like that you are like this. It makes things so much easier for me, because... well, I'm still a bit insecure at this kind of thing... you know?"

"At what kind of thing?"

"You know... this."

"Chatting?"

"Idiot," she says, chucking and giving me a little smack on the arm. "Anyway... what I'm trying to say is that I'm enjoying being your guest... even if it's hard to get some sleep in here."

"Well, you know what they say about English hospitality. We always want our guests to feel welcome."

"Oh, I hope you don't make everyone who comes to your house feel this welcome."

I can't help but laugh.

"Well, no... not everyone," I say. "But you shouldn't worry about that. So far, you've been my only guest here."

"Really?" the look in her eyes suddenly shifts into one of puzzlement. "Are you telling me that nobody besides me has set a foot in this house?"

"That's right."

"But... why? You had friends here. You still do. I know for a fact that Sakura would have loved to come and see you."

"I... haven't told anyone I'm here. I wasn't feeling very social lately... and this house isn't meant for receiving guests, anyway."

"But... you brought me here."

"Yes, but... that was an exception."

I see the puzzlement in her eyes increasing, and suddenly I realize I might have said a bit too much, and I get puzzled as well. Why on Earth am I blurting out things like these? Why does she have this effect on me? I was never known for being a talkative or open person before, quite the opposite actually; yet somehow there's something about her that lowers my defenses and pushes me beyond any prudence or caution, and I find myself saying things just like these, without even thinking. I can't help but wonder why.

Endorphins; that must be it. I feel too good when I'm with her, too much at ease; and for some reason it makes me reckless, and I stop caring about things like I usually do.

"Why? What's the deal with this house, Eriol?" she asks. "I've been wanting to ask you since the first time I came here, but for some reason, I always seemed to forget. This isn't your old house, the one you had when we were kids; that one got demolished to build an amusement park. I never thought that you could have another house in the city, let alone one that looks almost the same as your old one, yet at the same time... feels so different."

My puzzlement only grows when I hear her say this.

"Different? How?"

"Well, I'm not sure... I've been to your old house just a few times when we were kids, but it always felt... like a happy house. Despite being so big and luxurious, it was warm, and homey. This one, instead... has a strange feeling to it, like a... gloomy kind of feeling. As if it was sad somehow. As if the whole house was crying. Even the mirrors here... seem to have a life of their own. They're kind of unsettling."

I just look at her, amazed once more by her unbelievable perceptiveness, and how it somehow makes up for her lack of magic powers.

"Why... why are you staring at me?" she says. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but..."

"No... actually, it doesn't. It's not ridiculous. I'm just surprised, because I can't believe you could have sensed that much. But you're right, Tomoyo. This house... is sad. This house is crying."

"But, why, Eriol? Why is it?"

I stare at her, uncertain about whether I should give her some answer or...

"Well…" I finally say. "It's because bad things happened here, a long time ago. Things that were engraved into the walls of this house, into its very core, its foundations. Things that can't be forgotten or erased. That's the gloomy feeling you perceived, Tomoyo; and that's also why I didn't live here before now; why I didn't want to set a foot on this house, until I absolutely had to."

"But this was your house before... in your previous life... right?"

"No. This house wasn't mine back then. Someone else used to live here."

"Someone you knew?"

"Yes."

"Someone you... loved?"

I just look at her, and say nothing. She holds my gaze for a few moments, and then a somewhat sad, bittersweet smile forms on her lips.

"I see now... why you don't want people to be here. It's okay. I'm not going to ask you what sort of sad memories this house holds for you. I'm just thankful that you made an exception for me. It means more than I thought before."

I can't help but smile, and stroke her hair.

"Don't be silly. I'm glad that you're here, Tomoyo. This house is not so sad when you're in it."

She looks at me with a smile on her face.

"But now I feel kind of bad for showing up again without being invited. I shouldn't have imposed on you like that. I'm sorry."

"Stop it. I'm not complaining, am I?" I chuckle. "You showing up tonight was the most wonderful thing I could hope for. Although, now that we're back on that... I'm still a bit at loss about how it even came to happen. I can't say I was expecting it."

"I wasn't expecting it either," she says with a sigh. "But I promised to tell you everything before, so... go ahead. Ask me whatever you want."

"Okay," I take a deep breath. "Where is Sakura?"

She stares at me for a second, looking a bit surprised.

"What...? You don't know?"

"No. I felt her presence earlier, moving away at a tremendous speed, from which I could only infer she was on a plane. But I have no idea of why was she on one, or where was she going. I mean, if I really wanted to, I could make an effort and see her... but I'm trying to not do that, on account that it's wrong, as it has been pointed at me recently. So... all I know is that she's not here anymore. She's far away... her presence feels dim, distant... I have to make an effort to even sense it."

"Well... your inference was right; she was on a plane. As to where she is now… I think you're smart enough to figure that out."

This time, it's me the one who's a bit surprised.

"Wait... you mean... China?"

She nods.

"But why...?" I stammer, still not out of my shock. I mean, I know why she would want to go to China; what I don't know is why now, why right after being so sad and miserable at that pier in…

And suddenly, it all makes sense. Kind of.

"It was you," I mutter, and it's not a question. "You put her on that plane. Didn't you?"

She just grins and doesn't answer, but it's not necessary anyway; I know it was her. But then... there's a bigger question here, another huge doubt claiming to be answered. And it has little to do with Sakura.

"Why did you do that?"

She sighs before starting to talk. A long, deep exhalation.

"Because... it was the right thing to do. She was in the wrong place, and she was suffering because of it. She had to go where her heart needed to be. She had her own things she needed to take care of... as I had mine."

I stare at her silently; not daring to interrupt her but expectantly waiting for more words. She stares back at me, and when she continues, there's a strange, bittersweet smile on her face.

"It would be a lie if I said it was easy to see her go, but... as I watched her plane take off and disappear in the sky, I knew I'd done the right thing... at last. And I felt happy. Not the usual kind of happy, of course, but happy... nonetheless. At peace. And she understood, Eriol. She forgave me. I know, even though she didn't say it. I saw it in her eyes."

"Forgave you… for what?"

She looks at me, surprised.

"You... don't know that either?"

I shake my head no.

"I told you... I've been trying to stay out of other people's business. I know only what you've told me."

"And what you spied," she says, grinning a little bit maliciously.

"That happened only once!" I protest, feeling a little hurt. "I didn't do it again. And I won't, ever. I promise."

She looks at me, blinking, and that hint of maliciousness just vanishes from her smile, leaving it just adorable and sweet; although also a little sad.

"Well... maybe I'll tell you about it some other day, but... not tonight. I don't have the strength right now. All I can say is that I did something wrong... worse than when I watched that video. But... she forgave me. She's a much bigger person than I am... and she understands more than I ever thought, Eriol. It was a little shocking, actually. She said something to me... just a moment before she went into boarding... she hugged me, and before she let go, she whispered it in my ear... and left me quite astonished."

"What did she say?" I ask, not really sure if I wanted to know the answer. She gets closer then, I feel her fingers burying in my nape, and suddenly, her warm breath tickling my ear.

"She said... go with him, Tomoyo-chan. He needs you… and you deserve some happiness too."

I just look at her, perplexed.

"She meant you, you know," she says. "I don't know how she knew about us; I didn't tell her anything. We barely even talked. But she knew, somehow."

"She must have felt both our presences together. She's become... so much more powerful with the years. But, you..." I stammer. "What did you say… to such a thing?"

She just looks at me for a moment, and her smile turns slightly coy.

"That's something you don't need to know."

My mouth opens again, but before another question pops out, she interrupts me.

"Eriol... what is it that you really want to ask?"

Alright. No reason to keep going around it. To the point.

"Why did you come back tonight, Tomoyo?"

She pauses, stares at me for a moment, and then...

"Because... I realized this was the only place where I wanted to be. Eriol... when you left me at Tsukimine Temple, and I watched you walk away... my chest hurt. My chest had never hurt before for anyone that wasn't her. It was... confusing. But then, I realized I didn't want you to walk away; I realized that ever since the night of the storm, when I cried my heart out in your arms and you held me, I've wanted nothing more... than to be close to you. Something pulled me back here... so, I followed it. That's all I can tell you. Is that good enough for you?"

I just nod, staring at her with wide-open eyes, unable to say anything as she keeps looking at me with that shine in her eyes, and suddenly I feel startled by a strange, unfamiliar feeling; the feeling that this is, too, the only place and time where I want to be; that this life where I have met her is the only one I could have really chosen; and would keep choosing, over and over again, if only I had the chance. As I look at her, I struggle with the certainty that I should not be thinking like this; that someday not so far away all of this will be gone, her eyes, her smile, her lovely body on my bed, someday they would be just memories, and if I failed to find what I came here to find, I would be alone again, living a different life, with a different face and a different name in a world that wouldn't have her in it. I try to remind myself of this, but it just seems so unreal, so inconceivable; and why, why does it have to feel like this now, why if this is something I've learned to accept and live with a long time ago, if I know damn well how these things work, and I know that to rebel against fate will only bring misery and pain... And yet, for some strange reason, all of that just feels hollow and empty now; like the speech of an old, jaded man, a man that gets harder to relate to when I'm with her; because it gets eclipsed by the shape and the heart of the nineteen-year-old I'm feeling awakening inside me, with all the rebelliousness and stupidity that comes with it, because like all stupid young things, it refuses to accept the idea of letting go what it has just found. It lasts only a second, a spark, before I smother it; yet it was there, I know it, and the mere thought of it scares the hell out of me. I know I can't let such ideas root in my mind under any circumstance; the results could be catastrophic. It has happened before.

For some reason I remember the dream, and the face in the mirror, and that dreadful, ominous feeling stirs back within my chest.

But, then...

"Hey... what's wrong?" she says. "You look worried."

"Nothing's wrong," I say, smiling at her and trying to shake a bit of that gloominess away. "I'm happy. I really am. How could I not be, when I have such a beauty in my bed?"

"Oh, come on. You don't have to sweet-talk me, Hiiragizawa," she says. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me what's in your mind. I mean... I'd like that you would trust me enough to tell me, but... I understand. Really, I do. Sometimes we have things we need to keep to ourselves."

I look at her in awe. So, she knows I'm hiding things from her, and she understands it, she accepts it, without any insistence or pressure; just letting me know that she knows and that she'll be happy to hear everything I can't tell her right now, whenever I feel ready, if ever...

God, how strange is this woman?

She's such a mystery to me, so different from anyone I've ever met before in such a refreshing way, that for a moment I feel a sudden urge to tell her everything right away; about the dream, about the face in the mirror, about my worries and the things that still haunt me from my past, even about this house and the real reason why I came back to Japan. I mean… everything.

But no... I can't. But I also realize I can't get myself to do that other thing, the thing I always do whenever a normal human comes too close to find out about the things I can't tell. I can't, even though I'm getting the unpleasant feeling that maybe sooner than I think, I will have to; I won't, I can't, I wouldn't dare to mess with her mind, to make her forget, even knowing that on the long run it might be for her own good. Her mind is just too beautiful, too unique to be touched, and the mere idea of doing anything that could alter it repulses me. I like too much the way she is, the strange way in which she seems to understand me, even with everything she doesn't know; the snarky things she says to me and her wry sense of humor, as if she was inexplicably unintimidated and unafraid of my real age and my powers, as if they were as accidental to her as the shirt I wear, and just as unimportant. As if she could look beyond those things and just see... me. And I... like it, dammit. I don't want to lose it. I know it's selfish; I know she's getting closer to a cliff where she won't be able to pass without falling, but… damn, I just can't do it. I can't stand the idea of her being oblivious of me.

Who knows. Maybe, someday...

"You're right," I say. "Sometimes there are things we need to keep to ourselves. But, you know? Maybe... there might be a day when we won't have to anymore. I'm just afraid you might regret it… if that day ever comes."

Maybe, by some miracle...

"Oh, I'm sure it will. And I'm sure I will regret it, when it does," she says, a playful smile appearing on her face. "You're quite chatty as it is... if you get any more comfortable, I'll never be able to shut you up."

And then I just can't help it; despite all my worries and gloominess and everything, I feel a sudden urge to laugh.

"You're an insolent brat... you know that?" I say, between indignant and amused. "Somebody should really teach you to respect your elders."

"Oh, really?" she says, with a slight but unmistakable teasing tone in her voice; and I can see a spark of cheekiness in her eyes. "Teach me, then."

And suddenly I realize I don't feel worried nor gloomy anymore; somehow she has erased it all, and all I can think about now it's just how badly I want to wipe that smug grin off her face. So I kiss her, between rough and playful, biting on her lips now and then, and her ear, and her neck, and I feel her chuckle but also squirm and gasp. It still surprises me, this ability she has to change my mood like that; to transform with just a look of her eyes and a few words all my dark thoughts and heaviness into cheerfulness, into playfulness. Into lightness.

And for that, I'm thankful... but not enough to let her get away with it. She's just begging for a lesson in manners, this girl; and since kisses and bites seem to be hardly enough, I turn her around and start attacking her nape with teeth and pecks, while deliberately tickling her armpits and her sides, and she, absolutely not expecting it, starts squirming and shrieking and laughing uncontrollably, but a few moans escape her mouth as well, all at the same time and mixing together, and it's such a beautiful sound, so satisfying, that I can't stop torturing her until she pleads me to stop, with her face all red and tears of laughter in her eyes. I let her go, and she turns around and unexpectedly, savagely kisses me, pulling me against her and biting me too as her legs entangle around mine, trapping me, and suddenly I realize maybe I miscalculated this whole thing, and I'm not really the one teaching the lesson here.

If this is you being insecure, Daidouji, I can't wait to see what happens when you get more confident.

…

I wake up after an undetermined hiatus of sleep in an otherwise delightfully sleep-deprived night, to the joyous feeling of a warm, fragrant body next to mine. A feeling I never let myself enjoy for too long, because it's so damn easy to get used to, yet so damn hard to be without after you lose it... But right now I can't manage to think nor care about any of that, I just want to savor it, so, instead of getting up, I close my eyes and snuggle closer to her, trying to get more of her warmth, of her sweet scent; loving the way she fits in my arms, how her body feels so warm and pulsing and alive and her hair over my face kinda tickles me. I press my face against her neck, her shoulder, smelling her, barely touching her skin with my lips, and I feel her move a little, letting out a soft, happy grunt.

"Hey..." she whispers, and her fingers move lightly through my arm. "You awake?"

I barely manage to grunt back, spooning her even closer and burying my face into her hair, not opening my eyes.

"Eriol," she says, turning in my arms a little bit.

"Mmnssleep," I mumble.

I feel a soft chuckle coming from her.

"I think you slept enough," I feel playful fingers tangling on my hair. "And no bad dreams this time, I reckon?"

"No dreams at all," I mutter, and I realize in something like awe that I'm actually kind of relieved by it, maybe for the first time ever. "Luckily."

"I'm glad to hear that," she says. Then she turns around some more, and I feel her chest brushing against mine and warm breath on my face and fingers touching my cheek, brushing away some locks of hair, and moving down until they touch my lips, where they linger for a moment, making them all tingly just before they move away and I feel the soft, moist touch of hers; and as I lazily enjoy these feelings, it occurs to me that this is what heaven should be like if it existed: waking up like this every day, with this placid sluggishness and this touch and this warmth all around me, embracing me; and little by little starting to realize that it's all hers, that I'm not alone in this bed but safely nested in her arms; happy, at peace and unconcerned by anything but the fact that she's here, still here, by my side.

Still. Such a precious word for someone like me, yet one so fragile nevertheless...

"Hey. Open your eyes," she says, a small puff of air against my face. "It's almost noon. I have to go."

I reluctantly open them to find the bedroom completely illuminated by daylight, and her eyes staring at me.

"Go?" I mutter, yawning. "Where?"

"Well, home, of course."

"Mmm... I have a better idea. Stay?" I say, closing my eyes again and just relishing in the feeling of her body so close to mine. A feeling that, unfortunately, doesn't last long, as I feel her pulling away.

"I'd like to, but... I can't," she says, laying a kiss on my cheek as I open my eyes again and see her sit up and start looking for her clothes.

"Wait a second," I say, and before she even has a chance to get up, I put my arms around her once more and draw her back into the bed, playfully. She lets out a surprised little shriek as her back presses against my chest and my arms trap her. "At least give me a chance to convince you."

"Eriol... be serious," she laughs. "I can't laze around all day, you know? I have things to do."

"Like what?" I say, lying a soft kiss against her ear, and feeling her quiver a little. "Tell me."

"Oh, now you're interested?"

"I'm always interested. Tell me."

"Well... I need to check on my mom. I haven't been home for almost three days, you know? If I don't show up soon she'll have all her security personnel searching for me around town."

"Call her," I say, touching just barely the curve of her ear with my tongue, and feeling her quiver and twitch against me."Tell her you're alright. Tell her you've been kidnapped by some lustful fiend. Tell her anything, I don't care."

She laughs and gasps at the same time, which creates a very curious sound.

"So... you want me to never leave this bed?"

"There," I say. "I knew you were a smart girl."

"You want me to stay here all day long, lazing around and doing nothing?"

"Of course not. I can think of a few things that we could do... fun things."

"Oh, I see. So, last night wasn't enough?" she laughs. "And the night before?"

"Barely enough," I say, tracing with my fingers the line I just made with my tongue. "Was it for you?"

"Well... it has to be. I'm not some kind of animal, you know?" she says, her voice sounding halfway between amused and indignant, but... could there also be a hint of arousal in it?

"Aren't you?" I say, turning her around, so that she can see the side of my neck, which still has a very noticeable and colorful mark on it. "So, these aren't your teeth marks."

"I... I won't take responsibility for that..." she says, blushing a bit; but then she lets out a surprised, half-choked laugh when she feels my tongue brushing against her ear again. "I was... I was under a..." I give it a resolute lick then, which this time earns me a throaty gasp. "Gods, what are you doing?"

"Animals like being licked... you know?" I say. I can't help but smile a bit maliciously. I've already discovered that her ears were one of her weak spots, and was determined to take advantage of it any time possible. "It soothes them. But if you're not an animal, it should do nothing to you."

"Well, it's not... soothing me," she says, gasping and squirming a little in my arms.

"Then... should I stop it?" I say, making small circles with my tongue on her earlobe and up her tragus, earning a tremor from her. "Does it annoy you?"

"You annoy me," she says.

"But, you're not telling me to stop," I whisper, nibbling at her earlobe, and a soft moan escapes from her mouth. "I guess I was right, then."

"Even if you were..." she says, but it turns into a throaty gasp when I release her earlobe and start kissing down the side of her neck. "I still have classes today."

"Miss them?"

She slaps my shoulder then, not enough to hurt but hard enough so I would feel it, as she tries to sound indignant.

"I can't believe you. You're a professor. Shame on you!"

I just laugh.

"Oh, come on... when did you ever miss a class before? If anything... it might do you some good to relax a little," I mutter.

"Are you calling me a nerd?" she says, somewhat amused. "Just so you know... I've been missing classes for almost two weeks now, and it's entirely your fault."

That's unexpected. I just stare at her, puzzled.

"Mine? How so?"

"Well… the night of the bar… remember it? I couldn't get a good night's sleep ever since. I couldn't stop thinking about it; I was sleepy and distracted all the time, I couldn't concentrate in class… a teacher even scolded me for zoning out. So, I decided to stop going for a few days, until I could get my head together. Which happened… never. You really messed me up that night, you know?"

"Mmm… sorry?"

She laughs.

"Yeah, sure you are."

"Hey, in my defense... I didn't mess you up nearly as much as I wanted to," I say, planting a playful kiss on her neck, and feeling her squirm a little. "But now I'm getting curious about the kind of things you were thinking about in class... when you got all hot and bothered during a lecture and the teacher had to scold you. I can just picture it... eyes going vacant... face all red... breath quickening... legs-"

"Shut up, you perv!" she says, giggling, but I see a bit of pink on her cheeks. "It wasn't like that!"

"What was it like, then?" I whisper against her ear, brushing my fingers down her collarbone and her chest, barely brushing her breast and feeling her sharp intake of air. In the position that I have her, it's all so close and easy to access, that I can't resist the temptation to play with her a little. "Now you have to tell me."

"Do I? And just how badly... do you want to know?" she says, a bit breathless but staring at me with a spark of coyness in her eyes.

Oh, a challenge. How delightful.

"Badly enough," I say, kissing the line of her jaw as my fingers find the perfect mounds of her breasts, and as they brush against her nipples, and draw little shapes around them, I feel her tremble. "Say your price. Whatever you want, you got it."

"You'll do... anything I want?" she says rising an eyebrow.

"Anything," I mutter, moving up to place a kiss against her ear, and feeling her gasp again as my hand continues to fondle her breast.

"Okay," she says.

"That's what I wanted to hear," I say, as my hand starts tracing its way downwards, brushing over her abdomen. "Now, tell me everything. What happened to you after that night. What you thought... what you felt... what you did... I want to know it all."

"Well..." she whispers, her voice quivering a little, "Most of the time, I... was trying not to remember... what happened that night. I spent all my energy… trying to not think about it."

"Why?"

"Because, whenever I did... things got complicated. Especially... at night."

"Really? How so?"

"I'm... I'm not sure I can tell you," she says, chuckling a little and turning even redder, as my fingers stop their descent for a moment to draw whimsical figures on her lower belly. "It's embarrassing."

"Come on... you promised. Tell me," I whisper against her ear while my hand continues to move down. "Do I need to convince you? Because I'll do it," I say, licking her neck and feeling her gasp and quiver just as I find the hollow between her neck and her shoulder. My hand ventures lower then, until it finds the sweet spot it was looking for from the very beginning, and my fingers brush against it softly, teasing her, not really doing much more than that; but she bites her lip and moans.

She's still struggling to remain cool, to not lose this game I'm dragging her into, but it's hopeless, her body is just so sensitive, and responds so damn well to even the slightest of caresses, like it wants to be touched; or perhaps it's the enormous amount of time she has repressed from feeling that now is taking its toll the other way around... or maybe it's me, maybe it's the way I touch her what she likes so much; I don't really know which one it is, but it's so damn enticing to fantasize about it, that as I feel her squirm under my hands I realize I might need to keep my own enthusiasm in check if I want this to be played out correctly.

"Tell me, what happened to you… on those nights?" I whisper against her ear.

"I... I was restless," she starts, shuddering as my fingers brush against her tender crevice, which I find already wet and so warm and inviting, that I have to really concentrate to not lose the small grasp I still have on myself. She's blushing like crazy, but at the same time, completely yielding to the touch of my hands; her chest moving up and down with her agitated breath, a flush covering her entire body. "I had trouble… falling asleep at night... and when I did, I had these... dreams."

Finally, we were getting to the good stuff.

"What dreams?" I say, moving down to her chest, where I lay a few, playful kisses.

"The kind..." she mutters, her breath becoming sharper as her back arches a little, and I feel her fingers burying in my hair and her hips moving and her body pressing against my hand, making me almost lose control for a moment. "...that makes you wake up all flustered... and feeling... things."

"What... things?" I say, smelling her and feeling her warmth in my fingers and struggling to stay focused, but it's getting more difficult with every second; it's intoxicating me, and the way her body melts against mine, so delightfully responsive and so damn ready, almost as if it was pleading to be taken...

She pauses for a second before answering.

"You," she finally says. "I felt you. Everywhere. Your touch... it lingered on me, and I... I..."

"You… what," I say, but my voice sounds huskier than I intend as I feel the arousal in hers.

"I liked it," she gasps. "It scared me to no end, but... I liked it. The way you looked at me... the way you touched me... I couldn't forget any of it... and every time I remembered, I felt all warm and tingly, and all I wanted to do was... was..."

I look at her, and my mouth feels dry.

"What."

She turns her face to stare at me for a second, her eyes clouded by arousal, but also… a little wickedness.

"You... really want to know? I'll tell you... but first, I want something from you. You said you'd do anything."

Dammit, girl.

You're toying with me just as much as I'm toying with you, aren't you?

"You're a wicked, wicked woman, you know that?" I say, staring at her lying underneath me, and it's just so damn hot to see her and feel her like this, that I realize I won't be able to keep up this game for much longer, because my own body is betraying me; all I can think of is how badly I want her, just to feel how hot and slick she is almost enough to make me lose my mind. She chuckles a little, but it gets choked as well as I kiss her feverishly, and then start lying kisses on her neck, her throat, her breasts. "What do you want? Say it. Say it."

"I want you to tell me... what happened to you, after that night. What you thought... what you felt... all of it. It's only fair, right?"

Touché.

"You... little tease," I say, a bit surprised by this turn of events, but also undeniably amused. "Okay... I guess it's fair. You want to know what happened to me after that night? I thought about you, that's what. I thought about you... a lot."

She stares at me intently.

"Really?" she asks. "What... kind of thoughts?"

"All kinds," I say. "Nice ones... troubled ones... dirty ones. The full package."

She stares at me, an eyebrow raised.

"Tell me more... about the dirty ones."

I chuckle.

"Really? Is that what you want to focus on?"

"Right now, yes," she says. "I'm curious."

"Are you sure you want to hear those?"

"Yes... why? After everything we've done... you think your dirty thoughts are going to make me blush?"

I remember those thoughts for a second, and before I can do anything about it, I feel my own face getting hot. Her eyes open big.

"Oh my God... they're making you blush! Which means... they're dirtier than I thought," she says, a bit surprised, a bit amused, yet oddly interested. "You... pervert!" she laughs. "What the hell were you thinking? Now you have to tell me!"

"Do I?" I say, completely taken aback by her strange reaction.

"Yes! You promised! I can't believe it, all this time behaving like such a proper, stick-up-your-butt gentleman... while in truth you were fantasizing about doing gross, unspeakable... nasty things to me?" she says, and I notice her pupils are dilated, and I notice a wild spark in them as well.

"No! That's not... I mean..." I mutter, feeling my face turning even redder. "It's just fantasies... It doesn't mean that I..."

"Did I like them?" she interrupts me.

"What?"

"Those perverted things you imagined doing to me in your fantasies... did I like them?"

I look at her, quite stunned.

"Hell, yes."

"Tell me, then," she says. "I want to know."

I stare at her, astonished, amused and insanely turned on all at the same time, because even now, on some level I was still thinking of her as such a sweet, innocent thing; but then again...

"Tomoyo Daidouji… are you asking me to talk dirty to you?"

She smiles then, but it's not a smile I've ever seen on her, it's not the smile of the shy, demure girl she used to be, it's the smile of a mischievous kid who just got away with some hijinks, a smile that speaks of boundaries and the thrill to cross them, and I don't know exactly when or how this happened, but one thing I know for sure it's that I want to be a part of it.

"Tell me your dirty fantasies…" she whispers against my ear, as her hand moves down my body, being more than just a little tease now. "And I might stay for a while. Who knows, I might even want to try one or two... if I like what I hear."

I look at her, and I realize I've completely lost control of this; she has thrown me off my game so quickly it's almost shameful, and now is not even my game anymore, it's her game too... or it is hers only? I no longer care, the only thing I can think of is how badly I want to play it with her.

"Are you for real?" I say huskily against her ear, and as I let my hands roam through her body, digging my fingers in her skin a little more roughly than I usually did; I realize that I want her like crazy now, more than I've ever wanted her before, and I'm dying to find out how serious her bravado is, and how far is she willing to go in order to win it. "Because if you are, I'll tell you... every little dirty detail."

"Oh... I'm for real," she says. "I want to know what that sick mind of yours wants with me. I want to know... every little dirty detail." And God, there's no way on Earth I can hear her say that and just keep playing cool, not with her body so fragrant and hot and her voice so husky and wanton against my ear; no, I have to give her whatever she wants, and if she wants raw and dirty, then fuck it, I can't be happier to comply, because God forgive me, I want it too, I've wanted it since the very first time I've touched her, and until now I've somehow managed to refrain. But now I don't have to anymore, because she's no longer that sweet, innocent girl who has to be made love to tenderly, or maybe she never was and I'm just discovering it, but now she wants to cross all those lines, and I want to cross them too, I can't wait to cross them and so I kiss her and I bite her neck and I whisper dirty things into her ear, things I've thought and felt and wanted and I no longer want to keep from her, and she bites her lips and I feel her nails scraping my skin, and she says some things too, things I've never imagined her saying... It's like she wants to turn me into a much wilder thing than I want to be, and she's taking me there with almost no effort at all, because dammit, it was all right there, just underneath the surface, all she needed to do was scratch the skin a little and there it is; and she does, and she sees, and I want her to, so, so badly...

Suddenly, I realize how much I've needed this... to lose myself completely, to forfeit all pretense of civility and just yield to the most basic urges, those I've worked so hard to keep well hidden and under control. To disarm myself, to dispose one by one of every piece of artifice that makes me be what I think I am, and show her the real me; my raw, pure self underneath all that; almost like what I get to experience in my dreams... only in a more earthly way, in this body, in this flesh.

And she likes what I say to her, and the things we do… they're far from sweet lovemaking, but they're also far from just crude sex. They're like... a revelation. Like looking at each other with our real faces, and finding out who we are behind the games and the masks and the pretenses, like trying both the heights and the lows that we can get to together, the sublime and the most profane; I worship her and kiss her feet like a goddess and use her for my pleasure in any way I want, and I want it all; the full palette of colors, the full spectrum of experiences. And she keeps peeling me layer by layer so mercilessly, and yet embraces everything she finds underneath so utterly and eagerly, that for the first time ever I start feeling that the impossible thing I've always dreamed of could actually become true, and I could be with her like I've never been with anyone ever before: completely, unafraid, not hiding anything, not holding anything back, free from both past and future; and although I know this is just a taste, a glimpse of what that could be, it still feels as overwhelming and frightening and awesome as diving from the top of a high cliff into a vast, deep, endless ocean... and just as damn liberating.

And we dive in it, and we reemerge from it new, pure, untainted. Like animals.

…

"Well..." she says, gasping as she lies against a pillow and tries to catch her breath. "That was... different."

"Good different, I hope," I manage to say, struggling to ease down my breathing as well as we lay there, spent and exhausted, and I look at her much like a sailor would stare at the shoreline on the horizon after the longest journey in the open sea. Surprised, a bit unbelieving... and so damn thankful.

"Good... is not the right word for it. I don't even know what the right word is, but it's got to be something better than good," she says. "It's a shame I'll never be able to tell any of my friends about this. They'll think I'm a deviant."

"They're boring people, then," I say, chuckling. "You're not boring, I'll give you that."

"But, I feel like a deviant," she says, laughing against the pillow. "What are you turning me into?"

"Excuse me? I am turning you? Are you honestly implying that you weren't like this before?"

"Well... I wasn't!" she says, between amused and scandalized.

"Oh, come on!" I laugh. "I mean... really? Stalking camera... costume fetish... and need I remind you it was you who insisted on being told my dirty fantasies? I would have never! You had deviant written all over you, long before you met me. If people didn't see it, it's because they weren't paying attention."

"Okay," she says, letting out a little laugh. "Shut up. I see your point. But, even if you're right... I never even thought I could actually... be like this, you know? That is because of you. You make things emerge in me that I didn't even know I had, and somehow you make me feel... like it's all okay."

I can't help but feel a grin forming on my lips.

"It's more than okay. It's... amazing. I mean, what you are... the things you do... You make things emerge in me too, you know? Some are so intense and contradicting, it scares me a little."

"Because you might not be in perfect control all the time?" she says, smiling. "Then, I like that I can do that to you. It's not a bad thing. Eriol, when I'm with you, I feel free. Free to be anyone I want, free to do anything I want. Like there's nothing holding me back. I know, it's scary sometimes... but it's also amazing. And that, I owe you. That experiment of yours, about killing Tomoyo... remember? You were right. I needed that. You showed me a side of me I needed to see; I needed to lose the mask, to abandon all certainty, all comfort, all illusion of control, before I could start seeing it. And it's like it never ends. I keep finding more and more."

Was it really that simple? Maybe for her, it was, but, what would it mean for me? It took a night of drunkenness, self-loathing and physical awakening to crack her mask, to start killing that fearful, fake Tomoyo she had built in herself for eighteen years; but what would it take to kill Eriol, who is the outcome of centuries and centuries of meticulous effort and work?

Because Eriol would need to die too, and not just for a while, but for good; that mask would have to crack too if I ever want to see myself too; if I ever want to stand before a mirror without that alien and bizarre feeling twirling in my stomach.

"Okay," she says, stretching her arms and legs and sitting up. "I have to go now, you know? This time for real."

I lazily watch her get up from the bed and reach for her clothes, and only when she's halfway dressed, I realize what a waste it would be to not get a last feel of her body before she covers it and takes it all away. So I get up and wrap my arms around her from behind; breathing on the fragrant skin of her neck. I love it, but I realize we both should be stinking of sex.

"Shower?" I mutter in her ear.

"You must be kidding," she says with a chuckle. "You can't possibly still want to…"

"I meant just a shower," I say, amused. "Believe me, I'm satisfied, and so spent I could sleep for a week. You've drained me."

She laughs.

"Oh, poor thing. Let's say I believe you; I still don't have the time. I'll take a really quick shower at home, grab my books and run to my classes. I already missed half of them. Now do me a favor, have a bit of decency for once, and feel a little guilty about it," she says, as she struggles to put her jeans on with my arms around her.

"Sure. I'm guilty as sin. Now... when will I see you again?"

She laughs again, and I can feel her laughter vibrating against my chest, and it's really a very nice thing to feel.

"If you don't let me go home right now, I'm guessing never. My mom might just kill me… or worse, lock me up in a convent or something."

"Oh, no. That would be such a waste. I can't allow it," I mutter, releasing her to let her put her boots on. "But, you know…" I say, as I wrap a housecoat around myself, "there is one thing I do feel guilty about. I was just thinking... we never really had a proper date."

She stops in mid-action, and suddenly grins, staring at me with a strange look in her eyes.

"Are you... asking me out?"

I don't know if it was the bluntness of it, the bewilderment in her eyes or what, but suddenly I feel a little off-balance. I mean, sure, we've slept together, we've done unspeakable things to each other, but there was never a word said among us that implied it would be anything more than that. I mean... she liked sleeping with me, that much I knew. She liked the games we played together and the way I made her feel, and that was all good and nice and okay, but in the end... she was still in love with someone else... wasn't she?

"I was just wondering... what would happen if I did?" I stutter. "Hypothetically speaking."

"Hypothetically speaking?" she says, looking at me with an eyebrow raised, and I feel even more off-balance than before. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Well, no... why?"

She lets out a giggle.

"You know... for someone who claims to be so old... you can act like such a teenager sometimes," she says, laughing. "But I don't have time for hypothetical questions now. I really need to get going," she says, as she puts on and ties her other boot. "But let me give you a hint: next time you want to figure out if I want to be more than just bed partners, why don't you take a chance, and ask me out? For real, I mean," she says as she hurriedly grabs her things, gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and rushes towards the door. But then she stops. Because I'm already there, holding the door shut.

I smirk.

"You're right. Let me start over. Will you go out with me?"

"Sorry... that ship has sailed now," she says, smiling almost deviously. "Try again later."

Then I grab her waist, push her against the door and kiss her; I mean really kiss her, hard and deep and not giving her a moment to take a breath, and she's a little taken aback for a second, but then she gives in to the kiss as all her things fall to the floor.

"Please go out with me," I mutter as soon as my lips leave hers.

"I'll think about it," she says, breathless, but with an odd twinkle in her eyes. "I really have to go now."

And then, she's gone.

...

I slept. But not for a week.

Two days have passed, and now it's twilight, that moment when the night is starting to show its face; and what a beautiful face it is. It's the most pleasant night there has been since my return to Japan. The sky still hasn't cleared up completely, but the wind has receded to the point of becoming just a cool breeze, and among the clouds, for some brief moments, you can catch a glimpse of the moon and the stars. It seems as if the winter had exhausted its fury in that storm, and now was just retreating with a gentle goodbye.

It's nice to walk along these streets that are populated once again, with my hands inside the pockets of my coat, without the slightest idea of where I'm going and breathing with delight into the night air that feels fresh and fragrant and like revived, as if it was giving us an early preview of the upcoming spring. It's nice to watch the light of the lamp-posts shining over the already neat and swept sidewalks, the cars moving again along the roads, and the people that once again are out of their houses and walking around merrily through the streets, with their heads uncovered and wearing only light coats, as if nothing had happened, as if a terrible storm didn't almost devastate half the city only three days ago. There's something different, almost festive in the air, as if it was a holiday; and suddenly it occurs to me that maybe it isn't the people, nor the moon, nor the lamp-posts.

Maybe it's me.

It's me who's seeing the world through a different prism; the light has refracted and thousands of new colors have appeared, and those colors paint and illuminate the city completely. She's here, somewhere; but I don't know where, and that turns the entire city into a wonderful, gigantic jigsaw puzzle, an extraordinary sandbox of possibilities where any place could be the place where she is, the place where I could find her; surprises could be waiting for me just around any corner. After she left, I've forced myself to not feel her presence, to numb my powers as much as possible, in an experiment to not let myself be overcome by impatience. She said later, and that would have to be enough for now, even without knowing when the fuck that later would be. No, I wasn't going to look for her, I have more self-control than that; but hey, nothing prevents me from taking a walk on this wonderful night if I want to, and if by some chance I happen to bump into her, I can't be blamed for that, can I?

It's really odd, to walk around like this, blindly roaming the city, knowing what I want to find but not really searching for it, not making any effort to find it, leaving everything to chance and randomness and secretly hoping for that miracle to happen; it's something I've never done before. Like a blindfold, exactly like a blindfold, and I must say, strange as it is… I'm starting to enjoy the experience. It's kind of alluring and nerve-racking at the same time, that feeling of not knowing, of depending on something beyond my own will and powers, something as random and chaotic as a casual encounter, something on which I have no control whatsoever. And yet, I never could have guessed the other unexpected effects this self-induced helplessness would have on me. Something strange is happening to me, and I'm barely starting to realize what it is, in the deepest of awes: that as I walk the city like a blind man, I'm actually starting to see it. As if there's been a luminosity surrounding everything that didn't truly let me appreciate the shapes or the colors; as if there has been some kind of buzz, of background static all the time I haven't even realized, and that luminosity and that buzz that were most of what I perceived of things, have suddenly disappeared. As I blocked the bigger things from my perception -the presences of thousands of people who roam the town-, hundreds of smaller things started to appear, to stand out, crystal-clear and captivating my senses; and suddenly it was the halo-shaped light from the lamps, with their army of bugs flying around them and turning them into something unbelievably precious; suddenly it was a sound, the wheels of a bicycle on the concrete, a beetle buzzing its wings, the song of a nightingale, a dog barking in the distance... And as I walk, so delighted and immersed in those things, I heedlessly turn around a corner to bump into some old lady, who indignantly yells at me to pay more attention to where I'm going, and stares at me in puzzlement as I cheerfully grin at her and answer her with some random words in any of the languages I've spoken in my many lives, and I bow to her with a non-existent hat before walking away, amused as a kid, and probably leaving her thinking she has just bumped into some seriously crazy bastard.

Where could she be? Will she be out tonight? Yes, she has to be. It's Friday, and it's one of those nights that invite to be walked, to be slowly undressed and savored, to be discovered; and she seems to love roaming around without direction just as much as I do. So it's really more of a question of where than of if. Would she be at the park? Would she be sitting at the table of some coffee-house, reading a book perhaps, or chatting with some friend? Would she be at the movies? There are so many possibilities, so many chances of missing her, of spending the entire night walking around alone and not finding her, that it makes me a bit anxious; but that's also part of the charm, of the excitement, it's what makes my steps light and expectant and my heartbeats so strong, and what makes me look around all the time, like a detective searching for clues, for signs of any kind, signs that could be everywhere or nowhere; the lamp, the nightingale, the bicycle, some neon sign; they all speak to me, and as I walk it occurs to me that all of those things combined could eventually lead me to her, point me in her direction, if only I could read them correctly; if only I could put them all in the right order. But no; deep down, as from some dark corner inside myself, I sense that that approach is wrong too, it's been wrong since always. It can't be order what takes me to her; it's the unexpected things that I love the most, it's her unpredictableness what most attracts me to her, therefore... it has to be chaos. In order to find her, to really find her, I should be able to forsake all order and embrace chaos, I should be able to throw all the pieces into the air and just let them fall where they may; only then would I be able to see the real picture, the pointing sign that hides inside the giant jigsaw puzzle. Only then, and not before.

As I walk across the park, I see some kids playing at King Penguin's playground under the watchful eyes of their parents, and when I pass over the small bridge I stop to look at them for a moment. It's a lovely sight, and it's somewhat incredible to think that some time long, long ago, I've actually been like them, just as innocent and carefree. Well, almost like them. Since I have a memory I've always had powers, which have always marked me as different; but there was a life that was actually the first, in which I had actually been a child, born without any memories; a life in which I had to discover everything for the first time, in which I had needed others to teach me and guide me and take care of me. Leaning against the railing, I light a cigarette (something I reserve almost exclusively for contemplative moments like this, in which I feel the sting of nostalgia) and watch them. They're beautiful, and so weak and dependent that I kind of pity them; their lives are completely in the hands of others, of people that could hurt them, people that could leave them or die; people that won't always be by their side. And yet, despite that, I can't help but feel some sort of veiled envy; me, that except for an insignificant handful of years, have never depended on anyone; me, that have never needed anyone to protect me. Not even my guardians. I'm not such a hypocrite to not admit to myself that the real reason behind the creation of my guardians wasn't really protection, but loneliness, pure and simple loneliness among so many people who could never know my secret, who could never know who I really am. And even though there were always a few people who knew, magic users and regular mortals who found a way to get close enough to know my true identity, there was always the need to keep them at a safe distance, for their own good.

Always, except for that one time… and that ended up in disaster.

The dream from many nights before crosses my mind again. Am I playing with fire here? Wouldn't it be better to just turn around and go back home, to forsake any attempt of finding her and seeing her again and just lock myself there with my guardians, in that house full of mirrors, and wait for some time, some days, some weeks, whatever it might take for this amazing woman who is somewhere in this city to get over whatever it is that she feels for me? Wouldn't that be the best gesture, the best gift I could ever give her, to get the fuck out of her life before I would mess it up beyond repair? Does she really have any idea of who I am, of what she's getting herself into by being with me?

Suddenly, I remember a moment; an instant within a moment, a quick glance from her eyes, a smile. And words.

Ever since the night of the storm, when I cried my heart out in your arms and you held me, I've wanted nothing more... than to be close to you. Something pulled me back here... so, I followed it.

And as soon as I remember that, a strange thought assaults me, something I should have really thought about before, but that I kept forgetting for some reason.

How on Earth did she find my house?

The first time she was there, I brought her. The second time she was roaming around, but only found it after being revealed and invited by Nakuru. But the third time, after she left Sakura at the airport... she got there on her own, and that... that makes no sense.

Because that house is protected by a heavy magical shield, and can't be found by anyone who doesn't possess great magic powers. I doubt that even Sakura, with the cards and all, would be able to find it. And I have no doubt in my mind that she has no magic powers, not even modest ones.

So… what the fuck.

And then, something strange, something unexpected happens to me. The laugh tickles, bursts, explodes inside my chest, so suddenly and strongly it's unstoppable, and I have to let it out. A loud, hearty laugh, which earns me the looks of all the children in the playground, and also their parents. The cigarette falls from my hands.

Alright then! This is not just any woman; this is the weirdest mortal I've ever met, one that surprises me all the time, who shows up when I least expect her, who's able to see and understand almost as many things as I do and without any magical powers at all, who is so delightfully interesting and absurd and addictive that has me running around the entire town like an idiot, in the hopes that I would bump into her, in some kind of wonderfully ridiculous game of hide-and-seek. No, she's not just any woman, and I don't really know what the fuck she is and what it is that makes her so different; and as long as I can't tell, I can very well give her the benefit of the doubt.

And then suddenly, without even thinking about it, without even a moment to blink, I realize...

I know where she is.

It's not her presence. I'm still not feeling it, but nonetheless, I know; as if a light has suddenly flashed inside my mind, as if the pieces have somehow been tossed into the air, finally, and for the briefest of moments I've glimpsed the sign, the beacon that points in the right direction. And I know where she is, and I know that she's waiting for me.

I put my hands back into my pockets, and start walking with the lightest step in that awesome night, with my heart beating excitedly in my chest, and as happy as only a child could be.

…

---

Author Notes

Well, here I am again, alive and kicking! Thought I died, or dropped this fic? Well, nope. What a lousy mother I'll be if I just abandoned my child like that? Just been insanely busy with too many things (work, family, etc) to even count them. And my own damn obsessiveness, of course, that makes me write with the speed of a paralytic slug.

The thing is, this chapter turned out being painfully long. So much that I eventually decided to cut it into two parts, all for your sake, my beloved readers, so you wouldn't end up hating me and falling asleep in front of your screens. This is the first half. Which means the other half (chapter 3) is almost entirely written already, just needing a bit of polishing, and it should be up soon (although if you learned something already, you shouldn't really trust me on this).

Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Yes, I know there isn't a whole lot going on in it, it's mostly them talking and fucking a lot, but what did you expect? They were pleading for it, those two, and besides, that's more or less what all new lovers do, right? They suffered a lot already, I felt like they deserved to catch a break... a "breather" of sorts (see what I did there? :0 ).

The thing about Eriol's house being demolished to build an amusement park is from the second CCS movie, The Sealed Card, where Sakura faces The Void. I had this in mind even when I wrote DYRL, that Eriol's house where it all happened couldn't be the same house we saw in the anime, but it was really pointless to address that issue in that story; there were other, more important things going on. But it's not so pointless anymore.

Anyway, thank you for reading! Now be nice and leave me a review so I know what you think! You'll make me very happy. ^.^