Tattooed

Summary: "I've lost everything to drugs, do you know that?" Sakura told him with tears in her eyes. "The funny thing is I've never even touched a drug in my life and yet it destroyed me. It took everything." She turned to face him then. "Please, don't let it take you away from me. I won't be able to handle it, not this time, not again." S x S.

Author's Note: Fashion Fairy 26, teru21, petiteTRINH, xXBlossomofShadowsXx, deaflo, amelancholicangel : To all my lovely ladies, this chapter is the first update of the day. I hope you wait eagerly for the next. I'll give you a hint, someone close to our hearts appears next.

If you can, listen to the rock version of 'My Immortal' while you read this. I think that says it all.

Disclaimer: I love them all, and yet they're all not mine.

xiii.

I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

- My Immortal/Evanescence

For days Syaoran could feel Sakura's hair on his fingertips, the brush of her ear against his lips, the softness of her skin against his clothed shoulders... she'd felt so...

Each time he was high he couldn't paint because she invaded his memory completely. He barely thought about picking up a brush as much as he thought of her lips... soft and pink. Would they feel as good as they looked?

Just the thought set his soul on fire, as though he knew from deep within that it would never happen.

"Why?" he asked himself as he faced her closed balcony. "Why... are you so damned perfect?"

Because she wasn't him, that's why.

Syaoran was sure, without even being told, that Sakura had probably never in her life had the taste of a nasty drug in her mouth, let alone having ever been high. He could make out by the chin she held so high and the posture of pride she walked with. Sakura was happy with herself... and she should be. She was perfect, after all.

Even being high didn't stop that from making him feel miserable. All this money, all this talent... and he would never be good enough for her.

He stood up and dialled her number. He knew it was useless, but tried anyway.

"Hello, you've dialled 0044392810029. Please leave a message."

Syaoran hung up. He'd made this call millions of times before, and had been rejected millions of times already.

He took in a long drag and let the fumes out slowly. He didn't want to think about it, he didn't even want to remember. Today, that's how high he would be.

"What if Sakura comes by?"

Syaoran picked up a brush and spoke to himself.

"She knows... I can stop. I can stop." He should've stopped. "I can."

But he didn't.

*.*

"Your work this semester is somehow... lacking, if I can call it that." Mr. Martin told him as they walked out of class the next. Syaoran felt on edge, like his blood was boiling him from within. He could feel the ever present need to itch. He felt like he could die. He could barely hear Mr. Martin speaking.

"Mr. Syaoran?" the man asked him.

"Hmm?"

"I said if this is how things progress then I cannot submit your work in for the Exhibit's selection."

They both came to a stop at the courtyard. Syaoran wanted to say something but it was difficult to speak. He nodded.

"I hope you show me something worth my time in the next class."

Syaoran clenched his fists and felt himself gritting his teeth.

One thing... he was good at one thing. This was his thing. This was the one thing he was good at. How could he fuck this up? This was all he had... everything he had.

He dialed Mei Ling's number.

"Xiao Lang?"

"Mei," Syaoran rasped out. "Come pick me up please?"

Some rustling and shouting later, he heard her. "I'll be there in twenty."

"Hurry,"

He couldn't stop itching.

*.*

Syaoran slouched on the couch feeling wretched. Maybe it was done. Maybe there wasn't anything good left in him anymore. Maybe he had no talent anymore.

Maybe...

"You look like you haven't eaten in days. When was the last time you ate a meal?"

Syaoran couldn't remember.

"I'll make something."

"Just... some stir fry if you can." Syaoran begged as he looked out into the sun, trying to see if Sakura's balcony was open. It wasn't. Or was it? He couldn't see too well.

"Do you want ginger in it? I know you hate the stuff, but it might help you."

Syaoran shook his head. He looked out at the balcony again.

Sakura stood there with the sketch he made her, smiling. Syaoran smiled.

"Hey," he heard her voice. She touched his forehead, his cheeks and then lifted his chin up.

"Syaoran,"

The way she said his name... was so perfect. Something as simple as his name sounded divine coming from her lips.

"Sakura,"

"Syaoran..."

He sighed and pulled her closer, kissed her temples and then her cheeks.

"Sakura," he sighed breathily. He felt better knowing she was with him. He wasn't alone. She was here.

She was here.

"Xiao Lang!" Mei Ling's voice was suddenly clear as crystal. He woke up and sat at that. He looked at the balcony doors... still closed.

"She's going to leave me, isn't she?" he asked Mei Ling. His eyes stung now.

"Xiao Lang..."

"She's going to leave me, just like everybody else."

"Xiao Lang, you know that's not true."

"She will leave me. What am I worth? Nothing, I'm not worth anything."

"Hey," Mei Ling soothed him and brought him to her bosom. Syaoran sobbed and trembled.

"You know why she left? It's because I'm not worth it, I can't be fixed. She couldn't stand to be with me and now... I'm broken."

Mei Ling rocked him softly and didn't say anything.

"I called her again." Syaoran revealed to Mei Ling.

"When?"

"Yesterday. She didn't answer."

"Xiao Lang, I thought you decided you were done." Mei Ling wiped his tears as she held him close. Syaoran shook his head. He didn't know what to say.

"How long have you been calling her?" Mei Ling asked as she massaged his scalp. That felt nice.

"I never stopped."

"Oh, Xiao Lang." She hugged him now, her arms around his waist. Syaoran couldn't stop crying.

"I hate her," he announced. "I hate her,"

"I hate her too," Mei Ling told him. "I hate her for what she did to you."

That wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he took it. His tears reduced as Mei Ling tried to feed him some stir fry.

He glanced at the balcony.

The doors were still closed.

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

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