Chapter Fifty-Four

Fai woke blearily as the morning sun pierced his eyelids, illuminating the capillaries with its weak light. The usual nightmares had been absent, and rather than recalling memories of that tower or of his fingernails bending back against the stone walls, the only thing Fai remembered was the empty blackness that had swallowed him like a thick blanket.

Before he could slip back into sleep, Fai sat up and stretched, joints popping as he rolled over the edge of the bed and plopped onto the floor. When he saw Kurogane's bed, pillow smooth, sheets pulled into their proper place, he paused. Did he already wake up? Or did he never go to sleep?

He frowned, a wrinkle of worry forming on his forehead before he remembered that he'd been trying to distance himself from the others. True, he hadn't intended to appear so cold as to drive the others away, but he didn't know what other kind of front he could put up. They must hate you, whispered that insidious voice in the back of his mind. Why else would Syaoran wander off on his own, except to get away from you? You can see it, can't you? That he hates you so much he'd rather sit alone in his room than talk to you.

Fai shook off the thoughts, physically shivered to make them fall away. Air whistled down his throat, lungs filling out as he tried to think only of the present moment. Not about how he'd failed Syaoran-kun, or the dismal condition they'd found him in. Not about the secrets that glittered in Sakura's eyes, hidden even from him. Not about the primal hunger circulating through his body, making his veins feel cracked and dry. Certainly not that.

It had been over a week since he'd fed, and though he knew Kurogane would let him drink, even make him drink, Fai couldn't bring himself to ask. Not after this week.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes and stepping out of his room. His gaze drifted to the clock on the wall—ten A.M., he noted—then to the kitchen, where a stack of unwashed pots and pans sat by the sink. A rare occurrence, given that there was little for them to do in this city apart from attending chess matches and shopping. And given recent events, Fai wasn't especially inclined to leave the apartment.

His sharpened senses picked up on a pair of heartbeats. Did Kurogane sleep out here? he wondered, walking over to the couch. When he saw Syaoran's head resting on the ninja's lap, he raised an eyebrow.

"Nightmares," the ninja explained quietly, hand stroking Syaoran's hair back, away from his face. The boy didn't stir, too deeply asleep to surface at such a light touch. The gesture rooted Fai to where he stood. Distant as he'd been in the last few months, he hadn't been keeping tabs on his companions, not even to gauge how much they'd pieced together from his vague allusions to Ceres. Had he missed some shift in the ninja's personality, or had that casual tenderness always been there? And if it had, how had he missed it?

No, he thought. Things have changed. The old Kurogane would've been more likely to tell Syaoran that nightmares didn't matter.

The muscles in his face tugged his lips up into a smile. To think that nightmares had no significance . . . it was ridiculous, unfathomable. Fai knew that. Lived with it. Endured his own vivid nightmares because without them, there would've been no way to differentiate between the all-consuming void of unconsciousness and that of dreams. Because it had been a long time since he'd had a good dream.

A long, long time.

He'd known it was a mistake right from the moment he'd laid his head on Kurogane's lap. And knowing that hadn't stopped him from doing it anyway.

Syaoran woke, gradually at first, like sensation returning to fingers numbed by cold, then all at once, as it he'd plunged those frozen extremities in warm water. One eyelid twitched, then the other, and then his eyes flashed open, artificial light assaulting his pupils before they could adjust.

And then he closed his eyes again, hoping Kurogane hadn't noticed him stir. He wanted to prolong the moment, the mistake, no matter how much it was going to hurt in the end.

A warm, familiar pressure covered the side of his head, a sensation he recognized from previous encounters as the weight of the ninja's hand. At first, he thought Kurogane had fallen asleep, but then the weight shifted, fingers curling in his hair. Syaoran forced his breathing to remain slow, despite the acceleration of his heart. He remembered the heat of hands moving across his skin, the electricity of those forbidden touches, the desperation with which he'd clung to the ninja afterward, but this was different. Not an intimate touch, but more than friendly comfort. He laid there, trying to isolate the strange emotion building in his chest, like relief and warmth blended together then tinged with sadness.

Yes, he knew this had been a mistake. But would anyone really blame him, if he feigned sleep a few moments more, if he allowed himself to take comfort in an echo of the intimacy he'd experienced before?

Behind him, a door creaked open. The hand on his head tensed and relaxed as Kurogane heard the creak and then dismissed it. A moment later, the faint padding of footsteps over cement clued him in to someone's approach. Fai, he decided. Sakura's limp would've made her steps louder, less even.

The footsteps stopped a few feet beside him. Syaoran kept his eyes closed, wondering what Fai thought of his unusual position. After a moment, Kurogane spoke, his voice soft, but carrying as it always did. "Nightmares."

Fai made a noise of understanding, and Syaoran felt the ninja's hand move down the side of his head, pulling his hair away from his face. Silence filled the apartment, but unlike many of the silences their group had experienced since Tokyo, this silence had a comfortable quality to it, a contentment. "I suppose breakfast can wait a while," Fai said at last.

"Yeah, sure."

Syaoran heard the whisper of Fai's retreating footsteps, still feigning sleep even when he heard the bathroom door open and close. He waited, expecting Kurogane to call him on his ruse, to accuse him of eavesdropping, but the ninja said nothing, only moving to trap a stray lock of hair between his thumb and index finger and push it away from Syaoran's forehead.

Kurogane knew the kid was awake. Perhaps it was the subtle shift between dead weight and attentiveness or the slight increase in temperature that gave it away, or perhaps he just knew. But he stayed still, letting the moment linger. Comfort was useless for someone who was unconscious, and Kurogane had no reason to engage in such useless acts, and anyway, the last thing he wanted was to move away now and upset the kid.

Besides, there was something soothing about having someone be so relaxed this close to him. Even more so because this time, he'd been the one to put the kid at ease. To comfort. To care.

It felt like a foreign concept. In Nihon, he'd narrowed his talents to fighting and . . . well, pretty much fighting and killing. Even in this journey, where every world had forced him to become more versatile, he'd never expected comfort to be anywhere on his list of things to excel at. For months now, he'd been fumbling with how to comfort others—primarily the kid, since he needed it most—but now, sitting here with the boy feigning sleep on his lap, Kurogane figured he'd learned enough. It didn't matter how strong a person was; everyone needed someone to rely on.

His hand tensed as he heard the bedroom door swing open behind him. His head whipped around, his body preparing for a fight even as logic told him it was only the mage. Still, he remained alert until Fai met his gaze and started toward him.

He's going to see, Kurogane thought suddenly, eyes darting back to the boy. Syaoran stayed limp, either not noticing or not reacting to the sudden tension. Shit. Moving him now will make this look worse than it is, but I can't just stay like this. Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit.

Fai came around the edge of the couch then, and Kurogane forced himself to relax, to act as it everything was normal. When the mage arched an eyebrow, he grit his teeth and looked down at the kid. "Nightmares," he said, trying to make the word sound like an explanation instead of an excuse.

"Ah." The mage's eyes clouded over, and he shuffled back. A fleeting, genuine smile crossed his lips, then morphed into a grin that was too cheerful for this time of day. "I suppose breakfast can wait a while."

He grit his teeth, hoping he was imagining the knowing tone of the wizard's voice. The last thing he needed was for the idiot to think he was enjoying being a pillow. Even if it was true. Even if his desire to keep the kid from feeling rejected outweighed his desire to extricate himself from this situation. Even if a small part of him wished the kid would stop pretending to sleep and lie in his lap just for the hell of it.

Damn.

"Yeah, sure," he murmured, dismissing the magician in the most casual way possible. He weaved his fingers through the kid's hair, pretending this was normal, sane, or any variation thereof. After a moment, Fai drifted off, wandering back to the bedroom Kurogane hadn't slept in last night. And damn it all if he couldn't picture that blond bastard grinning as he went.

Author's Notes:

So, I decided to include some general information about this chapter, as I did vary the style somewhat. The chapter is titled "Three-Flavor Ice Cream" because I included a POV section from each of the three main guys (sorry to any Sakura fans out there. I do like Sakura, but I have a lot of trouble writing in her POV, and she's not usually that relevant to my stories anyway). The story title, Shatterheart, has no relevance to anything at all, in case you were wondering. I borrowed the title from a powerful magical attack in Final Fantasy XII because I am a geek and I do stuff like that. Anyway, back to the current chapter: I'd like to note that all three POV shifts took place over the same time period, just with differing perspectives. I did it partly as a character exercise, and partly because it was fun. So that's why the events of this chapter repeat several times, in case that wasn't clear.

On another note, I'm attempting NaNoWriMo(National Novel Writing Month) this year, so I'm trying to write 50,000 words of original work over the month of November. Which isn't really relevant to this fic at all, since I've got enough pre-written chapters to keep regular updates until then, but I'm including this information here so you'll know why(among many other reasons) I haven't updated my other Tsubasa fic(Reversal of Fate) in months. Which is also not relevant to this fic, but if you've read that story and you're waiting for an update, I promise I will get to it once NaNoWriMo is done. You can send me angry messages and hate mail if I don't. In fact, that would probably help motivate me, as I am quite defensive in some cases and will sometimes write entire character arcs in fan fics to appease my complaining reviewers (not that anyone's complained yet. But you people should start complaining! My failure to update that fic is completely inexcusable!) So, anyway, that's the end of my excuse-riddled, rambling author's note. Thanks for reading!