Chapter Forty-one.
Kurogane-san was right, he told himself, sliding the books over the sensor as he turned them in. The librarian hovered over him, lips pursed as she tallied up the late fees. When she gave him a number, he pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and counted out the appropriate amount. "You always return your books late," she said.
He blinked, surprised she'd remembered him at all, much less been able to recall such an insignificant detail. "I'm sorry."
"You always return them, though. Some people don't, and we spend weeks making phone calls, trying to track them down. I'd rather have you bringing them back late than lose out because of another disappearing guest."
He looked up at her, feeling the faintest echo of pride. It actually sounded as if she wanted him to keep coming back, despite his lack of punctuality. "Thanks."
The librarian shrugged. "As it happens, I'm impressed you can read that many books between trips. And you use bookmarks, instead of just folding the pages."
He nodded. One of Fujitaka's pet peeves had been finding dog-eared pages in a book. He'd learned that back in Clow, when . . . No. I guess that wasn't me, was it?
"If something's troubling you . . ." the librarian said, her voice softening. His head snapped up, and he blushed, realizing he'd just been standing here, staring into the distance. "There are self-help books over that way." She pointed to several shelves in the non-fiction section. "They might help you get through whatever's bothering you."
"Thanks, but things are . . . complicated." He supposed that was an accurate summation. He was pretty sure being in love with the original version of the clone living in his apartment while longing for the gentle touch of someone else's calloused hands on his body qualified as "complicated." Of course, there were some stronger adjectives that jumped to mind, but none of those were suitable for polite conversation.
"Life is complicated. That's why people write books to help you get through it." The librarian smiled. He smiled back. Despite the chapped lips and papery quality of her skin, the librarian actually had a very nice smile. Warming. Like Sakura, he thought, his momentary contentment fading. Or Kurogane, those rare times he does smile.
He blinked, then pretended that thought hadn't just passed through his mind. "Thanks. I'll look through those." He hurried away from the counter, heading toward the rows of self-help books, where he could hide from the world while he silently fell apart inside. Ever since his conversation with Kurogane this afternoon, everything had felt off-kilter, as if the world had shifted half a degree beneath his feet, making everything lopsided. He hadn't realized how reliant he'd been on the ninja. Yet for weeks, Kurogane had been like a splint, holding him together so he wouldn't break all over again.
Even Syaoran could admit that wasn't healthy.
I should've realized that sooner, he thought. If I had, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much now. He took a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in his chest. The shelves of books stood like barricades around him, but this was still a public place. Odds were someone would notice him here and wonder why he was hunched over in the middle of the aisle. Forcing his hands to fall to his side, he straightened out, staring at the shelves of self-help books. When he tried to read the titles on the spines, his vision blurred. I can't do this anymore. I can't rely on another person to hold me up. It was my choice to follow this path, so I have no right to feel this way. And besides, my Sakura is still waiting out there, somewhere. If I can just find her, everything will be all right.
Syaoran pulled books from the shelf at random, assembling a small pile before heading to the cluster of chairs set up in the corner of the library. He sat down in a faded armchair, facing the wall. His position gave him the illusion of privacy, despite the quiet shuffle of other readers moving between shelves. And nothing else matters, as long as the illusion is there, he thought bitterly, remembering how he'd tried to imagine Kurogane loving him, as they'd lain in bed together. That illusion, at least, was better than the harsh reality.
" . . . you don't love me and I don't love you."
"I don't think the kid knows how to talk to you," Kurogane said, setting down the shot glass he'd taken out two hours ago. Mid-afternoon was early to drink, but he didn't plan on going anywhere, and as long as he didn't get too shit-faced, the alcohol would help him through this conversation. "I don't think he can, on his own."
The vampire glanced at him, then back to the cracked cement at their feet. "I wish now that I'd made more of an effort to make him feel welcome here. I never meant to make him shy away like this."
Well, that's your own damn fault, isn't it? Scowling, he poured another shot. "Then do something about it now. There's no point in worrying about the past." Which was something he'd been drilling into the mage since they'd met. A lesson that evidently hadn't sunk in, given the fact that Fai evaded the obvious question in his statement.
"Perhaps I can find a way to draw him out," Fai mused. "What does this Syaoran like?"
Being held, he thought. Being touched on the side of the neck. Being kissed on the collarbone. Being loved. "Well for one, he'd like it if you'd drop the 'this Syaoran' bullshit and just call him by name."
Fai winced. "Ah. I didn't realize. But what does he like to do? Reading is sort of a solitary activity, and I'm not sure sparring is such a good idea. He takes after you, in some ways, so he might get annoyed with the way I fight." A hopeful smile crossed his lips, but faded quickly when Kurogane said nothing. "I know none of what's happened is Syaoran-kun's fault, but I'm still getting used to the fact that he's not . . . the other one."
"The clone. They're not the same person, so don't just assume they are. It's not going to benefit anyone to connect them by their similarities." He tilted his head back, downing the shot he'd poured a moment ago. The liquor burned down his throat, more concentrated than the stuff in most of the worlds they'd traveled through. He remembered Syaoran saying something, once, about how he'd wanted to be different from his clone. After the first time he tried to kiss me, he remembered with a twinge of guilt.
"I don't know how to talk to him. We've barely spoken since Tokyo."
"Yeah, no shit. None of us talk anymore. You talk to the princess, and I talk to the boy, but that's it."
"Technically speaking, we're talking right now."
Kurogane rolled his eyes. "I almost wish we weren't."
Fai smiled, and it was even more nauseatingly fake than his usual smiles. "That's a little cruel, even for you, Kurogane."
He bristled at the sound of his name. "And that's a little cold, especially for you, mage."
The false grin widened. "I have no idea what you mean."
Bullshit. Annoyed, he poured the last of the bottle into his shot glass and lifted it to his lips. He was about to tell the mage to figure it out for himself when he heard the front door swing open.
"I'm back," the boy said, voice barely audible.
Fai turned around and rested his chin atop the back of the couch. "Welcome back, Syaoran-kun. Did you find anything good at the library?"
Kurogane half-turned, watching the boy, hoping he'd at least make an effort to return the mage's enthusiasm, however lackluster it was. But when he turned, their eyes met, just for a fraction of a second, and something inside him snapped, like a cable stretched to breaking point. He looked away, shifting uncomfortably on the cushions.
Because there had been no grief in Syaoran's eyes. No indication of anything beyond the cool politeness he'd erected as a shield.
"Some historical texts, a couple novels that looked interesting. I'll be busy for a few days, reading through everything, but they're not due back for two weeks, so I have time."
Fai's mouth pulled into a grin. "Great! Then I'll have time to teach you how to bake."
Baking? Seriously?
"Teach me to . . . bake?" Syaoran asked, echoing his thoughts.
Fai nodded emphatically. "Yes. Cookies and cakes and stuff like that. Sakura-chan and I picked up a bunch of baking supplies when we last went shopping. What do you say?"
The boy hesitated, as if searching for some sort of cue. Kurogane kept his back turned, waiting. "That sounds great," Syaoran said. "When do you want to start?"
"How about tomorrow? We can bake un gateau chocolat."
"Sounds . . . interesting."
"Well, technically speaking, it's just chocolate cake. But better to start with the basics, right?" Fai sounded disgustingly enthusiastic about the sugary atrocity he was devising. I'll probably have to eat some, Kurogane thought, grasping at the distraction.
Irritation was a lot easier to deal with than the strange ache in his throat.