Chapter One-Hundred-Seven

A knock on the door roused Syaoran from sleep. He opened his eyes, blinking at the too-bright light streaming in through the paper walls. I must have overslept, he thought, glancing over his shoulder to see Fai moving to answer the door.

A silence filled the room as the door slid open. In his bed, Syaoran stilled, becoming alert.

"Hey," Kurogane's voice said. Syaoran cringed, pressing his face into his pillow. "I'm here to see the kid."

"Syaoran-kun is still asleep," Fai said, a wintry edge to his voice. Several seconds passed, and something rustled, like dead leaves skating over stone.

"Can you tell him I left these for him? And this, too."

"All right," Fai said after a brief hesitation. Syaoran risked a glance at the ninja. Shadows hung beneath his eyes, the mark of a sleepless night, and in his hands, he held a cluster of orange and red flowers. His heart gave a strange little squeeze, and he closed his eyes again.

"Thanks. Uh . . . later." Footsteps shuffled out into the hallway, and the door slid shut. Syaoran continued to feign sleep as Fai tiptoed over to his bed and laid the flowers next to him. The scent of upturned dirt filled his nose, mingling with the smell of new growth. As he heard Fai step away, he opened one eye to study the flowers. Dewdrops clung to the petals, catching the light like tiny glass bulbs. The blossoms themselves varied in hue. In some flowers, the center held the palest colors, darkening as the petals extended outward, and in others, the center started out dark and became lighter around the edges. Is that what he's like? Syaoran wondered. Have I been looking at a pale flower without seeing the darkness inside?

He closed his eyes again, casting the idea aside as ridiculous. He could hardly compare Kurogane to a flower. More likely, Kurogane had sent someone into the gardens to gather these for him. Flowers were a nice gesture, but impersonal, which made sense, considering the fact that Kurogane had probably never given anyone flowers. He must still feel guilty about last night. The thought made him fidget. Guilt was a slow poison, wearing away its victim until everything—joy, anger, drive—slipped out of reach. Syaoran understood guilt well enough that even thinking about it made his stomach twist.

He curled up, flinching as a jolt of pain sparked across his body. His bruises still ached, and the bite on his shoulder throbbed. Inside, he felt a stinging pain whenever he moved. For the first time since he'd stirred, he considered going back to sleep. But it was already late morning, judging by the light, and he figured he ought to get up and at least pretend to act surprised by the flowers next to his bed. Wiping the crust from his eyes, he sat up.

"Good morning," Fai said, his voice subdued. Syaoran repeated the sentiment, stretching cautiously. His clothes hid most of the bruises, except for his swollen lip. He remembered the feeling of Kurogane's mouth on his and blushed despite himself.

"Who left the flowers?" he asked, though he already knew.

Fai studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "You're trying too hard."

Syaoran blinked. "Huh?"

"Your heart rate spiked when Kurogane came to visit, and you've been unnaturally still ever since. A moment ago, you asked who had brought flowers, but even if you hadn't been awake when Kurogane knocked, you could have guessed."

He's gone back to calling Kurogane by his name. Syaoran looked down, heartsick. It felt like they'd returned to Infinity, to the time where they'd all avoided or resented each other. I can't let things be that way anymore, he thought, curling up and running his fingers over his scalp. I can't let the others go back to antagonizing each other. Not now. Not so soon after it was fixed.

"Please don't be angry with him. He didn't mean to do anything wrong."

Fai's expression softened slightly. "People rarely intend to make bad decisions. That doesn't change the fact that they do."

"He apologized."

"Apologies mean very little."

"I love him."

Fai paused, staring at him. "Enough to become a martyr for him?"

Syaoran looked away.

The magician sighed. "I'm not saying Kurogane is a bad person. I'm saying that you need to stand up to him if you don't want something like this to happen again."

Syaoran shot to his feet and immediately regretted the action as the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain through his body. He leaned against the wall for support, shoulders curling inward. The pain jumbled his mind, making him forget whatever he'd been about to say. He looked down.

As he recovered from the flare of pain, he saw a bundle of black fabric lying next to the flowers Kurogane had brought. His heart began to pound, but not in response to pain or fear. "Did he . . . bring that for me?"

Fai glanced down, seeming confused by his tone. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

Syaoran crouched, gathering the slippery fabric in his hands and unfolding it. This is the outfit I wore last night, he thought, running his hands along the laces in the front. They'd been stitched back together, lace by lace, with gaudy red thread, and even without any knowledge of sewing, Syaoran could see the clumsiness of the repair. Clumsiness that could be explained by having only one hand to sew with.

He lowered the garment slowly. If Kurogane had been the one to fix it, that would explain the odd choice of color for the thread. His hands tightened around the fabric as he sunk to the floor. "I don't know what to do," he whispered, clutching the garment to his chest as a frightened child might cling to their favorite toy. "I'm not mad at him. I don't want what happened to come between us." He hesitated, his voice turning shaking. "All I wanted . . . All I ever wanted was to be loved. I can't go back . . ." He inhaled sharply, then closed his eyes, regaining control of himself. "I'll be alone again."

Fai ghosted over to where he sat, laying a hand on his uninjured shoulder, and Syaoran realized how his words must have sounded. "I'm sorry. I don't mean—I shouldn't . . . I know it's not like what happened after Tokyo. It's him. I can't . . ."

"Shh. Hush, now." Fai stroked his back, and a pair of tears slid down Syaoran's face. "Let it out."

"I just . . . It's not the bruises that hurt. Not really. He . . . He turned away from me afterward. He shut me out, and for a few minutes, I thought he didn't love me anymore."

The hand on his back froze, then continued its soothing motion. "I'm sure he wasn't trying to make you think that."

"I know." His breathing hitched, and he curled up in a tighter ball. "I know. He loves me. I kept thinking about that when he . . ." Syaoran trailed off, blushing. "Can I . . . Can I tell you something personal?"

"Of course."

"When we were . . . in bed together, there was a part of me that enjoyed what he was doing. A part of me that enjoyed . . . not the pain, exactly, but the intensity of the moment. The thrill." He grimaced. "Is that . . . normal?"

Fai hesitated, then nodded. "It can be. But it's better to set up boundaries, to know what you're getting into ahead of time so you can come to an agreement on what's safe and make clear what you want. Even if you didn't say no, he should have gotten your explicit consent before anything happened."

Syaoran closed his eyes. Until now, he'd wondered if he'd been wrong to take even a little pleasure in what had been done to him. That worry had eaten away at him in the hours before dawn, stealing his sleep. He still had plenty of things to think about, but he could put that concern to rest.

He wiped his eyes. "I think I'm going to stay here for a while," he said, his voice no longer trembling. "You should go enjoy the festival while it's still going on."

Fai nodded, but his expression was grim as he stood up and grabbed his rucksack from the floor by his bed. "If you need anything, I'll be within hearing distance."

Syaoran blinked in surprise, then remembered that Fai's vampire side granted him enhanced senses. The thought made him blush. I wonder if he's ever overheard Kurogane and I . . . doing things. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you," he added, giving the words a weight of gratitude that went beyond that which he felt for the advice. A hint of a smile tugged at Fai's lips.

"Don't worry, Syaoran-kun. Everything will work out in the end."

"I hope so," he whispered. He didn't want to think about what would happen if it didn't.