Chapter Thirty-One

The front door opened with a creak.

"Sakura!" Mokona cried, bouncing across the cement and flinging herself into the princess's arms. A rare smile flitted across her face, her icy mask slipping for just a moment.

Safe, Syaoran thought, rising from the couch. She's here, she's safe. They didn't hurt her.

"I'm home," Sakura announced, and like her expression, her voice was filled with an unusual amount of cheer. Syaoran relaxed as she apologized to Mokona for making her worry. When her green eyes touched on each of their faces, Syaoran understood that the message was meant for all of them.

Behind him, Fai stood. His pallor was a bit healthier than it had been a few hours ago, a fact which Syaoran could only attribute to the blood he'd consumed. The thought reminded Syaoran of some of the other things he'd considered during his thirty-minute shower, and he stared at a crack in the wall to keep his mind from straying too far from the present moment.

Sakura's gaze met his for just a moment, icing over again. His breath caught. She's not your Sakura, he reminded himself. It shouldn't matter how she treats you. Not anymore. His eyes flickered to Kurogane, looming in the kitchen.

"Forgive me," Sakura said, bowing her head and handing Mokona to Fai. The vampire's eyes widened. "I'm a little tired. I'm going straight to bed." She turned toward her room, her crippled leg swinging awkwardly, held unnaturally straight by the metal brace wrapped around it. When her toe caught on the rug outside her door, Syaoran darted forward, his arm shooting out to steady her before she could fall. Her eyes lifted to his face, surprise writ bold across her features.

"I'm all right—" she began. He adjusted his hold on her wrist and looked at her for a moment, trying to communicate everything he hadn't been able to say before they'd separated at the arena. I should say something, he thought, but the words wouldn't come out. After a moment, he settled for opening her door for her.

Her shoulders slumped slightly as she stepped across the threshold. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," she murmured, not looking at him.

Waiting? he thought, wishing he could see her expression. Does she think it's her fault that I couldn't get away from Reed? "That's not . . ."

"I want you to have your freedom," she interrupted, starting to close the door. "Goodnight."

"Wait," he said, holding the door open with his foot. "You said that, before. What do you mean?"

A shadow fell across her face, her gaze becoming remote, then sharpening as she looked up at him. "You've been trapped long enough. I don't want you to feel that you're responsible for me, or that you need to take care of me. I want you to be free and live your life however you think is best. That's all." She nudged his foot out of the way of the door with her toe and closed it.

Syaoran stared, the seconds ticking by. Eventually, he turned toward the living room, perched himself on the edge of the couch, and picked up an empty shot glass. "I need a drink," he muttered, resting his head in one hand, elbow buried in his thigh. Someone—he didn't look up to see whether it was Kurogane or Fai—picked up the emerald green bottle of liquor and poured several ounces into his glass.

He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and let the liquor burn its way down his throat.

The kid was hammered by the time the mage went to bed.

His speech was remarkably clear, considering how much alcohol he'd had, but as he'd downed glass after glass of liquor, his usual shyness had evaporated. Considering how he still sometimes went out of his way to avoid the mage and the princess, it was a marked shift, and Kurogane watched him curiously.

"It shouldn't matter to me," Syaoran said, knocking back another tiny glass of liquor. His gaze was unfocused, as if he was staring at something in the distance. Fai had left about ten minutes ago, and what little inhibition the boy had managed to cling to had gone with him. "I know it shouldn't, but . . . I don't get her. Sakura's not like she was . . . before."

"Of course she's not," Kurogane said irritably. Who would be, after everything that happened in Tokyo?

"I feel awful."

"Don't. It wasn't your fault."

"So many different worlds, so many different paths each world could take . . . How many different realities exist where things didn't turn out the way they did for us?"

Kurogane reached for the liquor bottle and poured himself another shot. He'd lost count of how many he'd had, but kept track of how many he'd served the boy. As Syaoran set his glass down for another shot, Kurogane nudged the bottle away from him. A pair of glassy brown eyes drifted up to his face. The boy's lips pulled down at the corners.

"You've had enough for one night. You're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow as it is."

"I'm fine." He reached for the bottle, eyelids drooping.

Kurogane caught his hand between his fingertips. Syaoran looked back at him, confusion breaking out across his face. "That's enough for tonight," Kurogane said, squeezing the kid's wrist to emphasize his point. "If you keep drinking, you'll make yourself sick."

The kid's head drooped, but he didn't make another move for the bottle. One of the nice things about this kid was that he was that he didn't get belligerent when he got drunk. Kurogane could see him building up a tolerance for alcohol to rival his own, given time.

"Do you want to do something else?" Syaoran asked, leaning forward and tilting his head back. Kurogane's fingers knotted in his hair, immobilizing him before he could move.

"Not tonight. Not with the others sleeping in the next room."

"I'll be quiet. Please?"

Kurogane closed his eyes and moved his hand to Syaoran's shoulder. Like always, the boy leaned into his touch. Kurogane traced the line of his jaw with the back of his hand, letting his knuckles move over the sensitive skin on the side of Syaoran's neck. He was rewarded with a shiver and a moan.

"Not here," he murmured. The mage slept deeply, but his enhanced hearing gave them little chance to try anything while he was in the apartment. Moreover, Kurogane didn't especially want to take advantage of the kid while he was drunk. It made for an awkward morning.

"Do you . . ." the boy began, then trailed off.

"Do I what?"

"Do you still . . . want me? Not now, I mean, but at all?"

Desire ghosted up the back of his neck. God, the kid was practically throwing himself at him. Would it really be so wrong, to take this conversation to its logical conclusion in some dark corner of the apartment? He stroked the kid's hair back with his hand. Syaoran tensed, a tremor running down the length of his body.

No. Not like this. "Go to bed," Kurogane said. "We can talk about this later."

The boy stared at him for a long moment, eyes foggy with the alcohol he'd consumed. Then, bracing one hand against the armrest, he rose from the couch. There he stood, swaying slightly. Kurogane watched, alarmed, as the kid staggered toward his room. When the boy listed too far to one side, Kurogane shot to his feet and caught him before he could hit the ground. "Kid?"

The boy looked up, lips parting slightly. A faint flush crept into his cheeks as he found his footing again. "Sorry." Syaoran's tanned fingers clung to his sleeve as he struggled to stay standing. After a moment, his fingers unfurled and he stepped back, blinking.

"Come on. I'll take you to bed."

"Really?"

He winced at the spark of hope in the boy's voice—he hadn't meant it that way—but he managed to keep his expression in check as he led Syaoran into his bedroom. Twice, the boy nearly fell, and twice, Kurogane caught him before he could. It was a relief when the kid slumped down on the narrow bed without hitting his head on anything.

"Sleep it off," he ordered. The sheets flapped as he tossed them on top of the kid's body. "If you're lucky, you'll sleep through your hangover."

"Do I get a goodnight kiss?" Syaoran asked.

Kurogane's mouth went dry. "No."

Hurt touched those coffee-colored eyes."Oh. I . . . I understand."

Kurogane stared at him, conflicted. He could justify a kiss, he thought. It was a small enough gesture, one they'd shared often enough that it couldn't be construed as taking advantage of the boy. But a goodnight kiss could very easily lead to more, and between the alcohol he'd consumed and the hot bundle of desire burning in his stomach, his self-control was questionable.

He stood and started for the living room. He paused in the doorway, then turned back to see the kid rolling to face the wall, eyes open. Kurogane figured the kid knew he was still standing there, and could probably see him from the corner of his eye, but Syaoran never turned to look at him.

When Kurogane didn't leave after a minute, the boy spoke. "You never answered my question."

"Huh?"

"Do you still want me? Did you ever?"

Kurogane sighed. "Ask me again tomorrow."

Author's Notes:

Again, I'm following the manga pretty closely here. This story is going to parallel the plot of the manga, but will instead be adjusted for KuroSyao instead of SyaoSaku. My reason for doing this is to make myself write the KuroSyao scenario in the most plausible way possible, as if it could actually have been part of the original storyline, and to provide closure for the characters (eventually). There is, of course, a lot of time that passed in the manga in which I'm going to insert KuroSyao milestones and original plot points, but for the sake of the overarching plot, I'm hugging close to the books for this one.