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, Ainez, vinh, lhaine07, Randomsam123, Guest, xXBlossomofShadowsXx, Gina, SweetSeductionCherryB, deadflo:

Someone Like You by Adele is the most bittersweet I've ever felt.

Guest users: Get an account and review! I'd love to reply! Dark Side has already been used, btw. Check it out. I think it was the 11th chapter.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

xxxvii.

Are you stuck inside a world you hate?
Are you sick of everyone around?
With their big fake smiles and stupid lies
While deep inside you're bleeding

- Welcome To My Life/Simple Plan

"Rumour has it that Hiro Yamamoto has a crush on you." Tomoyo teased as Sakura did her nails with a bright pink.

"Really?" Sakura asked, trying to sound disinterested. Truth was she'd had her eye on Hiro for a long time now, and while he may not have been the most popular boy in school, he was definitely the cutest. According to her, anyway.

"Really. I hear he's going to ask you out, and soon."

Sakura frowned. "How soon is soon?"

"Soon, Sakura," Tomoyo then lay on her stomach with her chin on her hands. "Will you say yes?"

Sakura hadn't really thought about that. Sure, she liked the boy, and sure, he was adorably cute. They hadn't really spoken in school much but that didn't mean they couldn't date... right?

"I don't know,"

"Sakura!"

Sakura's eyes opened on cue, at her being called. It took some time to realize it had been a dream... a recollection, really. Funny, it had felt so real. Hiro Yamamoto... Sakura hadn't thought of him in years. It'd been more than a decade since she last saw him. What the hell was she dreaming about him for? They'd caught up on Facebook sometimes but that was it. He'd gone on to becoming an engineer, a successful one at that.

Sakura sat up and stretched, noting that she'd fallen asleep on the couch again, with the music on. A light sonata was playing through the air as traffic sounded heavy outside. How late was it?

At that, Sakura rushed into the bathroom, checked the clock and realized she could make it to school if she hurried. Fifteen minutes later, she was hopping on one leg to put on her shoes, grabbing her handbag, her laptop and watch. She looked around for her phone, wondering where the hell she'd left it.

The red blinking on her landline caught her eye. Sakura stood still then, her breathing uneven. She pressed the button.

"Sakura? It's me."

Sakura pressed the button again, thus ending the call. She moved to delete the message, her finger hovering over the button.

She moved out of the apartment after that.

She couldn't delete the message, just like she couldn't delete all the others.

*.*

Driving back home had been the same tedious job as always. The music was dry, the traffic was a killer, and the rain had been relentless. Sakura turned up the heat, shivering. No one would believe that it could get any colder in Glasgow, but it did.

Sakura drove by the familiar streets and eyed the coming left curiously. If she took that left, and then the next right, she would reach Ebony and Ivory. She sighed.

So stupid, it had been so stupid to agree to that night. It had been the start of this entire mess, as far as Sakura saw. It had been everything that had led to here, to now, to nothing.

Sakura turned left, then right, and then parked. Music could be heard all the way from where she was parked, like soft chants and merriment, pulling her toward it, calling her to it, making her want to get up and get there.

She heard the bass-y cello from the outside, a slow tune. It was Beethoven; of that Sakura was sure, a very old and unpopular symphony. Sakura tried to recollect the name but couldn't. As she was seated, half an hour later, the track still played on. The man on the cello smiled as he played, as though he was hypnotized by his own tune. Sakura smiled at that.

Track after track, Sakura sat thinking of music, of symphonies, of sonatas and of Syaoran. Nothing had reminded her of him more in these past few hours. The music made her want to let go, to forget, to forgive. She wanted to leave it all behind, just like she had once, long before. She knew it would be a cowardly thing to do, but she couldn't help but want to start afresh, without complications, without this emotional baggage.

So... this was what wanting closure felt like.

It was distressing, disturbing, and it made her want to get up and leave. She did not, no! She could not forgive Syaoran for what he'd brought into her life. She was peaceful before she'd met him. She knew it would be a big mistake, she knew she should stay away from the boy with the beautiful brown eyes but she couldn't help it. It had been far too tempting, and Syaoran had been far too alluring.

Sakura thought of leaving after that, through every second of every song that was being played.

She never did leave though. Not until the last track of the night had been played and the waiter had to force her out of there.

*.*

Syaoran had finished his sixth painting a little after twelve in the night and took a seat next to a sleeping Lillian on the bed. His bed, to be precise. Their sessions always ran late into the nights and Lillian always managed to fall asleep hours before he did. Something in that moment had struck him odd about the dynamics of their relationship but Syaoran didn't over-think it. There was no need to. He had no obligations now, no restrictions, and no ties.

Syaoran went into his closet and found a t-shirt and pants, and then searched in his drawers for some underwear. He dropped some, a mistake he'd made after coming across Sakura's sketch. He would not open it.

He bent down to find the underwear and stared directly at the cardboard box he kept his private things in. He sighed and pulled it out, flicking the cover off and sitting on the cold wooden floor as he went through the things. There was his birth certificate, his father's watch, a ten year old tie (a birthday present from his father), and the photograph that had changed his life forever.

Syaoran eyed the photo expressionlessly, wondering if it were even real, wondering how he'd come to look at it without feeling anxious or shame. He touched the faint lines of her hair, and then stood, box in the other hand. He went out to the living room and sat staring at the photo of his mother.

Her portrait had been created in less than six hours. Her face bent to the side, half visible, her hair long and straight and black with her gown in hand and the other stretched out to the dark sky.

Memoria, Syaoran had named it in his head without too much thought to it.

He slept next to Mei Ling that early morning, holding her close as he cried.

There weren't many very words to describe how difficult it had been, painting that painting.

*.*

"This is..." Lillian trailed off as she observed the canvas in the bright light next morning, earlier than needed. Syaoran didn't really sleep much the night before, seeing as his mind was completely invaded with thoughts he thought he'd given up. Somehow, those very thoughts stopped making sense now.

"That's my mother," he told her quietly as he sat on the couch, now feeling impassive.

Lillian looked at him and held his gaze for a long time.

"The root cause of all evil, then." She stated.

Syaoran didn't reply.

"Where is she now?"

"Wouldn't know,"

"Seems like you want to know, though,"

"I don't know what I want anymore."

Lillian didn't pursue the conversation further. Sometimes, Syaoran realized, the girl didn't push things too hard. She was careful, yet deceptive somehow. Something about her was so off. The way she'd guess things, say things that had that uncanny knack of being correct. It didn't really do him well to think about Lillian but keeping his mother a secret from her was pointless. He knew that all too well. She'd already guessed some things.

"Well, this is beautiful."

Syaoran didn't nod.

He thought about how his mother's skin must have felt. Were her hands soft? Was her hair as shiny as it were in the photograph? Did she like art? What type of music did she like?

Was she gentle? Did she have a particular song with which she put him to sleep?

Did she want to be a mother? Did she have other children?

He felt numb as he realized that now more than six years ago, he wanted to know his mother. It was a dangerous trail, a road one must know better than to take. While his mother made him see the holes in his life, she also made him curious. Was he like her at all? Did she love him? Why did she give him up?

"Tell me something about your childhood," Lillian started as she made her way to him. After sitting down, she elaborated. "A cherished memory, something you like thinking about,"

"My dad and I were really awkward with each other," Syaoran started. "Sure, we were close, and I loved him, I think I used to love him the most." He paused at that, closing his eyes.

Soft humming.

Distant chimes swaying with the wind.

Laughing.

Soft, whispered kisses.

"My sisters were the best thing that'd happened to me, though. They kept us functioning. They made us a family, somehow." Syaoran laughed humourlessly. "We were so dysfunctional, so... out of place. We each wanted to belong, wanted to have a place we could call home. And this was it.

"Fanren never married, seeing that dad needed her to be with him and help him with work. When he passed, she took over for him. We never saw much of them, my father or Fanren. Between school and Kung Fu, we never had the chance.

"Sheifa and Fuutie were the youngest, and they were in school with me. Mei Ling and I couldn't stand next to each other without getting into a fist fight," he laughed at that, and so did Lillian.

"One day, after school, dad was at home early and so was Fanren. Feimei made her special dumplings and cheese cake. I always knew why Feimei was my favourite. I told her so that day. She was our head chef, Feimei. She took care of us, cleaned after us, made sure we did our homework every night. She was a mother even before she married and had her own kids.

"It was a simple family dinner, one that every family has every night. I had that privilege that night. There were many dinners after that, and many dinners before, but that was the first one that stood out. I think I was eight," Syaoran tried to remember. "Maybe nine,"

Dishes clattered against thick glass.

Loud girlish squeals.

Laughing.

Syaoran could never forget the way they all laughed and laughed, together. He couldn't be sure about why they were so happy, so joyous. The laughs of their happiness bounced off of the walls, resonating in his ears, in his heart. It'd been his only happy memory in a long while. Did it really matter why?

Lillian didn't say anything more, but she smiled.

*.*

In bed, alone with his thoughts, he realized that that had been the first day he'd gone without obsessing over Sakura.

Turning to his side, he felt restless all of a sudden.

An entire day with Sakura running through his mind, without Sakura plaguing his thoughts, without her...

He supposed this was how it would be from now on. Not sitting out on the balcony waiting for her to come out, not hoping for a call, a message, anything. Not waiting. No more waiting.

They were done.

Some days he couldn't believe it. The last bit of hope had been shred to pieces, they were left with nothing more. They weren't left anymore.

That didn't bring to him as much pain as it should have. In the past, it would have made him angry.

"I wished someone could have saved me, picked me up and changed me; let me out of my caged misery."

A hero, which was what Sakura, the woman of his dreams, the love of his life, had been waiting for. Someone ideal, someone perfect... Someone she deserved.

Someone that probably could never be him.

God, that sounded so cliched. Syaoran knew full well that it could've been him, the one that saved her. He owed her that much. She'd saved him from his miserable existence after all. He would have spent the rest of his life doing the same for her. If only things weren't so... screwed up.

"I wished for a miracle, for a family."

Syaoran knew what it felt like to wish for family. He'd been blessed enough with sisters and a father, even if God did take away all chances with his mother. Sure, he was sore about that but he knew he was lucky.

It seemed Sakura hadn't been that lucky.

Syaoran scoffed.

The act she put on was flawless. So good, she'd been so good at convincing him that she'd been perfect, that the life she'd had was perfect. How long had she had to perfect that act? She'd come to Glasgow to work, or was she there before to study? Where did she finish college? Where was Touya, Yukito?

Syaoran tried to stop thinking about it, knowing full well that he'd never get any answers.

He'd felt worse than when he had when the night with Nakuru had happened.

Why didn't she just tell him?

To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you

QUESTION: What would you say is the best way to relax?

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