Chapter Forty

"All right, we're heading out!" Fai called from the doorway, waving like an idiot.

"Just go," Kurogane said, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. The stress of the upcoming hour settled on his shoulders like a physical weight. He'd thought all night about what to say—the mage was right about one thing: the kid needed help. More than that, he needed help from someone else, someone who was better at offering comfort than he was. And more than anything, the kid needed to start talking to the others of his own free will, before the rift in their group widened any further.

Kurogane hated it when Fai was right.

So when the front door clicked shut, he waited, hoping the kid would appear, so this wouldn't turn into a confronation. Or maybe I should confront him. I'm much better at confrontations than conversations.

He sighed. When the boy didn't abandon his room after five minutes, Kurogane rose from the couch and walked over to the door. "Kid? You in there?" Well of course he's in there. Where else would he be? He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Why do I have to do this? Why can't the mage talk to him if he's that fucking worried?

But he knew the answer to that already: Syaoran would never be completely honest with anyone but him. Not now.

The door swung open, and Syaoran peered out, clinging to the wood like a timid child. "Yes?"

"Come on out. We need to talk."

Uncertainty flickered across the boy's face. Only with great reluctance did he step out of his room. "Am I in trouble?"

"No. Sit down." He went over to the couch, expecting the boy to follow him. When he heard no footsteps behind him, he stopped and turned. "What?"

"Is this about what you and Fai-san discussed last night?"

He leaned back, eyebrows flying into his hairline. "You heard that?"

"I eavesdropped. Sorry."

Kurogane sighed and sat down. "There's more to it than what you heard." He'd spent a few hours thinking, after his conversation with the mage, and it was clear there were deeper issues to discuss. "I'm not the only one who cares about you, you know."

The kid winced but said nothing.

"If you were listening," he went on, with some bitterness, "then you should know it's time to start reaching out to someone besides me. I can't take care of you forever."

This time, the kid's reaction was more pronounced. A jolt shot through his entire body, and his shoulders curled inward, as if to protect him from the words. Kurogane repeated the last bit in his mind, trying to consider them from the boy's perspective. It had sounded awfully cold, but it wasn't as if he could maintain this level of care forever. Eventually, the kid needed to learn to stand on his own.

It was necessary. So why did he feel so twisted up inside?

He shoved his discomfort aside. "Listen. You may not think so, but the mage and the princess will talk to you if you make an effort."

"I eat with the rest of you for every meal. I go to all the chess matches. If it was that easy, things would've already worked themselves out. But it's not. I know the others resent me for what happened in Tokyo—"

"I told you already: none of that was your fault."

"But that doesn't change anything!" Syaoran shot to his feet, his face animated for the first time since last night. "They grieve for my clone, but when they look at me, it just reminds them of his betrayal. And how could I blame them for feeling that way? If I was in either of their places, I'd probably feel the same." He turned toward Kurogane, his fists tight at his side. "So far, you're the only one who treats me like a person. Everyone else just looks at me like I'm a ghost or a copy. Do you really think just talking to them is going to fix that?"

"No, I don't." Kurogane stood, advancing. The boy stayed where he was, shoulders tense, face pinched with anguish. Kurogane lifted a hand and brushed it along the edge of Syaoran's jaw, as gently as he could. "But that's what I expect of you."

The kid closed his eyes and lifted his hand so it brushed against the ninja's knuckles. Then, like peeling away a bandage, he pulled both their hands from his face and let them rest over his heart. "You really want that?"

"Yes."

Syaoran swallowed thickly. "Okay. I'll try harder."

Kurogane nodded, trying to fight the lump rising in his throat. This is a good thing, he told himself, inhaling to get ready for the next part. "There's one more thing we have to talk about."

"What is it?"

"You said you were eavesdropping, before, so you know the mage is worried there's something else going on here. Something besides your week of alcoholism."

Confusion danced in his eyes. "There isn't."

He doesn't see it, Kurogane realized. He doesn't think of what we're doing as a crutch. He braced himself. Oh, hell, this was going to hurt. "There is something going on. This." He squeezed Syaoran's hand tighter, emphasizing his point. Surprise flickered across the boy's face, and his eyes dropped to their joined hands. Kurogane watched the confusion dissolve into shock as the realization hit.

"No."

"The mage will be watching for signs of a deeper issue. We can't do this anymore." Not ever. Not if you want to be able to stand on your own. "Listen, kid . . ."

The boy flinched as if he'd been slapped. "I thought you were going to call me by name when we were alone."

"Just listen, all right? This has to stop. It's not making things better for anyone."

"I thought you wanted it."

I do. He bit back the words; they'd only make it harder for the kid to let him go. "You love the princess, don't you? You should be trying to improve things with her."

"It's more complicated than that."

"I don't care! I'm not giving you the option. We tried this. It's not working."

"You can't . . ." The boy faltered, releasing his hand and stepping away. "Why isn't it working? You said you weren't ashamed of it, so what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that you don't love me, and I don't love you."

A flurry of emotions shot across Syaoran's face: shock, pain, anger, hurt, sorrow, confusion. His lips framed words, but no sound came out. His eyes shimmered with tears, but none escaped. In that moment, he seemed to collapse in on himself, like a building sagging as its supports failed.

Finally, a word escaped his lips. "Oh."

"Sorry," Kurogane said, because he was sorry. Sorry he'd had to put it so bluntly, sorry he'd gotten the kid's hopes up, sorry he hadn't stopped this sooner. Most of all, he was sorry that, after everything that had happened between them, he couldn't say those three precious words, not even in a lie.

Syaoran lifted his head, his expression carefully blank. "I understand. You're right. This was a mistake."

That last bit stabbed at him like a knife to the gut, but he said nothing, letting the boy turn away and walk to his room. Numb, Kurogane sat down on the couch and stared at a cigarette burn on the coffee table. His temples throbbed with every heartbeat.

He pretended not to hear the muffled sobs coming from the next room. He pretended nothing was amiss when the kid returned twenty minutes later and announced that he was going to the library to return his overdue books. He pretended not to notice the sudden emptiness in the apartment, the sense of being well and truly alone for the first time since Tomoyo had sent him away.

"How did it go?" Fai asked when he and the princess returned half an hour later.

Kurogane stared resolutely at the television. "Fine. He went to the library."

The vampire frowned. "So . . . that's it? Nothing was going on?"

"No." Not anymore. "Nothing."

In his peripheral vision, he saw Fai frown. "That's . . . good. Right? That nothing's going on."

"Yeah," he said, because he wasn't sure he could give a more detailed reply without the words sounding false. Fai had told plenty of lies since they'd met—he'd know when he heard one.