Chapter Twenty-Four

Time passed, and Syaoran fell deeper into bad habits.

Some of his habits were familiar—isolating himself in his room, hoarding food at night so he could avoid the others as much as possible. Others were new. He'd downed half the bottle of liquor that first night, the rest the next day. He'd taken two more from the shelf on the second night, berating himself for his weakness but unable to pass up the opportunity to numb his emotions. If he was lucky, his body would be just as numb whenever Kurogane decided to punish him.

Because of course he would. Syaoran knew he deserved at least a beating. And though he was terrified of getting it, at least once he did, it would be over, and he wouldn't have to sit in his room wondering what form his punishment would take.

He didn't tell anyone about his alcohol abuse. After the first week, he no longer wanted to tell anyone. If anyone noticed how quickly the liquor stock was being depleted, they either didn't care or they'd attributed it to one of the others. Syaoran didn't know, and by the time the supply ran out, he didn't care.

The morning after he'd finished the last bottle, he heard Fai talking about it in the kitchen.

"Someone will have to go into town and pick up something to drink."

Syaoran recognized Kurogane's disgruntled groan. "Fine. I want to get out of here anyway."

Away from me, Syaoran thought, pressing an ear to the wall. Kurogane seldom left the apartment except to take part in the chess matches Sakura insisted on attending. The general consensus seemed to be that, while there was a feather in this world, it was too far for Mokona to track, and it was better to bide their time here while saving tournament winnings to trade for the restoration of the Other's soul.

It was better to linger in this world where the danger was low than continue to places potentially more dangerous. Inaction left him listless, bored. Minutes passed sluggishly, turning into hours that seemed to linger for months, which turned into days that left him bleeding inside.

Infinity, he thought. Where every second stretches on for an eternity.

He heard Kurogane putting on his coat and shoes and opening the front door. The apartment suddenly felt empty. Kurogane was, if nothing else, full of vitality.

Less than a minute later, there was a knock on his door. Syaoran stowed the empty bottle under his bed, planning to dispose of it tonight when he made his nightly food run, and opened the door. Fai stood on the other side, his expression unreadable. Syaoran's heart jumped. Fai never visited his room. Doing so now must've meant he was in some sort of trouble.

He knows, Syaoran thought. "Yes?"

"Can I come in?"

No. "Of course." He opened the door wider and stepped aside, never meeting the magician's eyes.

"Hyuu. It's dark in here."

Syaoran winced. Fai's fake whistle, so rare these days, served only as a reminder that whatever horrible thing had happened in Fai's past was likely his fault as well. Because of course something bad had happened to Fai. Except for Sakura, they all had horrible, traumatic histories, so logically, it followed that something bad had happened to Fai that had set him on this path to join the group. He'd outright said he'd been running away from his home world, though he'd never given a reason for his flight.

"Is something wrong, Fai-san?"

The magician smiled, his single eye closing for a moment. His transparent attempt at cheerfulness put a lump in Syaoran's throat. "No, nothing's wrong. I just thought we should have a little chat. Sit down for a minute."

Well, that sounded ominous. Syaoran took a seat on the edge of the bed, waiting. If it had been Kurogane trying to talk to him, he would've had some idea what to expect. The ninja was blunt and straightforward, so much so that his words sometimes bordered on cruel. Fai would be subtler. It would be harder to put up a wall between them.

Fai sat beside him. Syaoran fidgeted at their proximity. "So," Fai said, letting the word hang in the air for a moment before going on. "I haven't seen you at the dinner table in a while." Fai waited for a response. Syaoran stayed silent. "Are you all right? I know things have been rough lately."

"I'm fine," he lied.

A frown rippled across the vampire's face. It was quiet for a bit, but unlike the once-companionable silences he'd shared with Kurogane, all Syaoran felt was tension. Even when he'd been attending meals, he and Fai had seldom interacted. Hearing the edge of concern in the magician's voice set him on edge. They were starting to notice his antisocial tendencies. How long would it be until they began to hate him again?

Finally, Fai spoke again, weighing every word. "When bad things happen, it can be easy to run away from them instead of facing them. Losing oneself in less painful pursuits can certainly be . . . easier. But not always better."

Panic sunk its claws into his heart, shredding it apart. What if he's not talking about drinking? What if he knows about the kiss? His fear deepened. I'd never be able to face either of them ever again. "What exactly are you referring to?" he asked.

A shadow fell over Fai's face. "I know about the alcohol."

Syaoran kept still, not letting his relief show. "I see."

Fai made a dismissive gesture. "It's not a big deal. We don't mind if you have a drink once in a while. But if there's something that's troubling you . . . I know this isn't an ideal arrangement—"

Syaoran winced at the word.

"—but you can still talk to us. Either of us."

And who is "us?" Syaoran wondered. But he nodded. "I understand."

Fai smiled, and this time, it looked genuine. He rested a delicate hand on Syaoran's shoulder and stood up. "All right. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

"Sure."

Fai was almost out the door when he paused. Syaoran looked up, curious. The vampire looked uncomfortable. "You can talk to Sakura-chan, too. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

He bit his lip. "Right."

Fai left him alone.

Mealtimes had gone stale over the past week.

The food was fine. The mage had gotten cooking down to a science, and the princess was learning pretty fast herself. The conversations at the dinner table were much the same as they had been, revolving around chess matches and chores and, occasionally, tidbits about the day. To an outsider, it looked like a cordial family dinner with ample sustenance.

To Kurogane, it looked empty, lifeless. And that bothered him, because even though part of him resented the boy for the consequences of whatever wish he'd made, the other part fretted over his absence. It had been over a week since the kid had crumpled to the floor, apologizing. Since then, he'd barely seen the kid, and never for longer than the three seconds it took for the boy to travel from his bedroom to the bathroom.

At first, Kurogane had been relieved. His temper had always been volatile, and the knowledge that the boy had, in some capacity, caused the tragedy that night in Suwa had left Kurogane seething. So for those first few days, he'd been glad the boy had stayed out of his way. His absence had allowed Kurogane to calm down.

As his fury ebbed, the seeds of worry sprouted. He began to wonder how much he'd hurt the kid by walking away, and how much more damage he would've done if he'd stayed. After a week, he was forced to admit that it was time to talk to the kid, before his badly hidden alcohol problem developed into something worse.

When the mage and the princess went out for their evening walk that night, Kurogane knocked on Syaoran's door. "All right. I've had enough of this. Come on out."

The kid must've been awake, because the door opened before he was even finished. Syaoran stared emptily at his shirt, not meeting his eyes. If Kurogane hadn't known better, he'd have thought the kid was sleepwalking.

"We're going for a walk," he said, taking the kid by the wrist and dragging him out of the room. The boy gave no resistance, and when Kurogane ordered him to put his coat on, he obeyed without a word. Why? he wondered. Is he afraid, or does he just want to get this over with? "Follow me."

Kurogane led the boy up the stairs, to the lobby, and, after a moment's consideration, into the elevator. The only sound as they ascended was that of the metal cables groaning outside the box.

The boy never looked at him.

"No one will be able to hear us up here," Kurogane said when they'd reached the roof, hoping the assurance would make it easier for the boy to speak openly. For the first time, Syaoran's expression shifted. Fear replaced the blankness in his eyes as he drew back. Kurogane caught his arm. The kid's body jerked once, then went still. Kurogane could hear him breathing over the wind, and the sound of it was like a beaten child trying not to whimper.

He waited. Finally, the kid met his eyes. His pupils were dilated, his face pale. His lips moved, but the wind obscured the words.

"Talk louder. I can't hear you over this wind."

The kid took a shaky breath and looked at him with haunted eyes. "Are you going to hurt me?"