radio star
iii. photographs
"Just remember, be natural—"
"Right."
"Do that thing where you smolder at the camera, photographers always seem to go a little crazy when you do that."
"Meiling."
"I know it's been awhile since you've done this kind of thing, so it's okay to be nervous. You just need to relax—"
"Meiling, I've got this," Syaoran said, raising his hand to stop her. "It's just a photo shoot. It's not even for the main feature. Small article, remember? Just a few pictures. I've got it."
Meiling wrung her hands. "Oh, hell. You're right. Maybe I'm the one who's nervous."
Syaoran laughed. "I think you are."
A week had passed since Syaoran and Meiling had gone to Hiiragizawa Publcations and set up a string of appointments for interviews with various magazines. Eriol hadn't been in, as he'd been called away at the last minute for an urgent meeting with another client, but all had gone well regardless. Meiling had accurately predicted that most publications would want to know more about what exactly had occurred in the notoriously private star's life to make it fall apart in such spectacular fashion. Now, they were waiting for Syaoran's first photo shoot and interview in a string of many to begin.
"You'd think I could go for a less vanilla magazine, though," Syaoran had griped. Their first shoot was for Candy, a teenage girls' magazine, but he'd had nothing smart to say when Meiling had retorted that much of his "accidental demographic"—younger teenage girls who were head over heels for the rock star—followed magazines like Candy. That demographic, she'd snapped, regardless of whether or not he wanted them, was vital to keeping his career alive.
The door to Syaoran's dressing room opened, and the coordinator for the shoot poked her head in. "All right, are we ready?"
With a sigh to Meiling and a polite smile to the coordinator, Syaoran stood up and walked out the door.
"That bastard. I should've known he'd be here," Syaoran said good-naturedly, eyeing the man across the studio with a grin.
A tall man with dark blue hair, a smart pair of circular, silver-framed glasses placed over his eyes—a brighter shade of blue than his hair—and a tailored grey business suit on caught his glance and smiled back, waving and walking up towards him.
"So you can't meet me for an actual scheduled appointment, but you come to watch the shameless exploitation of my face and body for rabid teenage girls?" Syaoran said as Eriol Hiiragizawa reached him, clapping his back.
Eriol chuckled. "Since I had to miss our appointment last week, I figured I could stop by your first photo shoot. When I heard that it was for Candy, I knew I couldn't resist. Gotta keep those crazy fans of yours satisfied in hard times like these, right?"
"'Crazy' is right," Syaoran muttered darkly. "I'm dreading it."
"Meiling, always a pleasure," Eriol said, turning to Meiling and giving her a warm hug.
"It's been a while, huh?" Meiling smiled at her longtime friend.
"Yeah, things have been a bit crazy at the company lately. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to support you guys when things started to fall through," Eriol said, exchanging a glance with Syaoran. Good friends though they were, both of them had intensely busy schedules that kept them from seeing each other very frequently.
Syaoran shrugged. "I know how it goes."
"Mr. Li?" An assistant walked up to the trio, her voice quiet. She was young, likely an intern or a newcomer, and she looked nervous to be around such high-profile people.
"Call me Syaoran," he said back, flashing her a grin. He hated for anyone to feel tense around him, not particularly for their sakes, but also because it made him very tense as well. "Are we ready?"
His charm had worked, and the assistant visibly relaxed as she nodded gratefully and led him off.
Eriol shook his head. "He's still got it, huh?"
Meiling laughed. "He never lost it. Now we just need to convince everyone else of that."
"Okay, now rest your elbows on your knees, relax your hands, and lean forward a bit, but don't forget to keep your abs tight—yes, just like that—fantastic!" the photographer cried, holding his camera up to snap pictures.
Click click click.
"Now, chin in your hand..."
Syaoran glanced uncomfortably at Meiling and a snickering Eriol, who both stood watching to the side of the photographer, before he recomposed his expression and looked casually back at the camera.
He sat on a black lacquered wooden chair against a plain white background, his shirt on the ground just within range of the camera frame, made to look like he'd carelessly stripped it off and tossed it aside as he'd walked into the shoot. He'd nearly snorted when the coordinator had presented the idea to him, but a warning glance from Meiling had silenced him before any smart remark could come out of his mouth. He knew it came with the job, especially because he had a good physique, but he'd always been wary of shoots like these. They made him feel strangely ill-at-ease. Perhaps his colleagues in the industry enjoyed the idoldom that their talents brought them, but Syaoran was not so keen on the idea of teenage girls tearing out these black-and-white, hypersexualized images of him and putting them up on their walls to kiss before they went to sleep at night. He didn't care enough to disapprove, but he found it bizarre that he was the subject of such admiration.
"He might hate it, but he really is a natural," Meiling observed, watching a computer screen on which the photographs appeared. It had been awhile since she'd observed Syaoran in this setting, and she'd almost forgotten exactly how good he was at this. "The camera loves him."
Eriol nodded, although he was still grinning at Syaoran's obvious discomfort. While some celebrities felt very natural doing these kinds of things, Eriol knew Syaoran felt like nothing more than a piece of meat. It was interesting, how much his friend's personality clashed with his profession. It was feasible to maintain privacy in the limelight, but by no means was it easy, especially given the factors in Syaoran's life—his youth, his appeal, his fanbases, and now, as a result of those factors, the scandal he'd recently weathered.
Having gone to school with Syaoran and consequently having grown up with him, Eriol knew how drastically Syaoran's life had changed when he'd first been thrust into the business. While Syaoran's life had hardly ever been normal—he came from a well-to-do family who owned a major business corporation in Hong Kong, and for most of his life, he'd grown up in Japan apart from his family, as his mother had sent him to a prestigious school abroad in Tokyo—he'd still had a semblance of a normal life at one point. He'd been a student like everyone else around him, and although he'd been forced to be independent from an early age because of his living apart from his family, he'd been able to see them much more frequently than he ever could after he became an actor. But he discovered a love for acting early on in school, Eriol remembered, and after his first play, Syaoran's desire to act was insatiable. When an agent came to the school and scouted him, the only thing holding him back was his mother. Yelan was hesitant to let her fourteen-year-old son partake precisely because of the consequences of the spotlight on such a young mind, but ultimately, she witnessed Syaoran's passion for it and allowed him to do it.
At first, Eriol recalled, Syaoran seemed to enjoy it, not because of the red carpet ceremonies or the star-studded events—he had been a child, and he hadn't cared much for those things beyond thinking they were "kind of cool"—but because, as he'd said in an exhilarated voice to Eriol over the phone, he was learning so much about acting every day. And with each successful film, Syaoran grew more and more experienced, but the pressure grew as well. His biggest fear became letting down the audience, as he took his trade very seriously. When Nightlight, the musical in which he'd starred, became a huge hit, Syaoran felt the pressure skyrocket along with the fame. He had become Asia's number-one young actor, and somehow, he had also grown more terrified than ever of being a disappointment.
In fact, he'd become so terrified that in the middle of the night a week after Nightlight had premiered, he packed his bags and caught a subway to Eriol's house, showing up on his doorstep and looking miserable and awfully young. At sixteen years old, Syaoran Li, Eriol's best friend, had been living the life of an older man, dressing to the nines for ceremonies and events populated mainly by adults and partaking in activities that also involved mostly adults. He'd also lived with the pressures of a middle-aged man, and it had worn him down. But that night, he just looked young and frightened.
He was still a kid, Eriol remembered thinking. They were the same age—and while Eriol was busily chasing girls and worrying minimally about his grades, Syaoran was worried about losing the respect of a nation with a single misstep. Eriol's parents, like second parents to Syaoran, ushered him in, setting him up for the night in a makeshift bed on the futon in Eriol's room. Syaoran called his mother that night, and Eriol listened outside the door without entirely meaning to—more out of a sense of protection than a sense of curiosity. He would never tell Syaoran, but that was the first and only time Eriol had heard him crying.
The next day, Yelan called everyone involved in Syaoran's career, the potential record company bosses included, and told them all bets were off. It took a few months to legally pull him out of some of the contracts to which he was bound, but after that, Syaoran was free to live his life as a normal person. Wary of the media, Yelan wisely sent him off the continent altogether, putting him in a school in New Zealand and then sending him to college in England, where Eriol joined him as a classmate and a roommate.
But from living with him, Eriol came to believe—and correctly—that Syaoran couldn't resist the pull much longer. He had wanted to live out the rest of his teenage years normally, and since he had gotten to do that, he was eager to go back to doing things he loved. He had always enjoyed guitar and singing, but after the professional training he'd gotten from Nightlight, he'd become much more dedicated to the hobby. Eriol witnessed his music develop through his college years, and in his senior year, while Eriol applied to potential jobs and business schools, Syaoran sent out demo tapes.
Syaoran was blessed with a very high return rate—almost every company he'd sent a demo tape to asked him to come in for an interview or a meeting or a further audition. After several meetings, Syaoran signed with an independent record company, thinking it the best choice based on his past experiences with fame and pressure. They both graduated college, and then Syaoran jumped into the industry once more, headfirst, but this time calling his own shots. He'd accepted that he'd have to partake in things he liked a bit less—exploitative photo shoots, for one—but he was also ecstatic at the idea of sharing his music with the world. Syaoran hit the road for his first tour as Eriol began his first year of his internship under his father's company.
They kept in touch as they had in the old days, Syaoran documenting the same fears of pressure but with a much more mature handle on the matter, Eriol griping about business issues within the publication company as he moved up the ranks. They had a good laugh when Eriol had wound up in charge of Syaoran's first cover story as a musician. And now, even as a storm had blown through Syaoran's life once more, Eriol stood and watched as Syaoran—with the help of his impeccable PR team, Meiling especially—simply picked up the pieces and decided to start over. His friend had grown.
As calm and cool as Syaoran looked as he watched the camera, though, Eriol couldn't quite erase the look of discomfort on Syaoran's face moments prior from his mind. He was definitely a natural, but would he ever really be at home in the industry that made his life so crazy?
"Excellent work today, Syaoran," the coordinator said as Syaoran walked out of his dressing room.
"Thank you," Syaoran said politely, slinging his bag over his shoulder and bowing before he walked out of the studio. To say he'd felt out of his element during that photo shoot was an understatement, but he was relieved all the same that he had done a satisfactory job.
Meiling and Eriol stood in the parking lot, chatting amiably as they waited for Syaoran.
"There's our model," Eriol said teasingly, turning to Syaoran.
"Shut up," Syaoran muttered. "I haven't done one of those in a long time. I forgot how awkward they were."
"I think the shots will turn out great, though. Eriol and I were watching some of the raw pictures on the computer as they appeared and they already looked so good!" Meiling said, and she gave Syaoran a playful shove. "You're really a lot better than you think you are."
Syaoran shrugged. "For the fans, I guess."
Meiling laughed. "For the fans, indeed." She turned to Eriol. "So, you're going now?"
"Yeah, I'm already pretty certain I'll be running a little late for this meeting," Eriol said, glancing distractedly at his watch. "But I'm definitely unopposed to clearing some of my schedule later on this week to meet and catch up," he said to Syaoran.
"Sounds good. Just let me know."
With that, they parted ways, Eriol leaving in his own car and Meiling and Syaoran stepping into a black car that had been waiting for them.
Meiling went through her calendar on her phone, cross-checking various schedules, and turned to go over the rest of their week's agenda with Syaoran. She quickly chose to remain silent, though, when she saw his face.
He was watching the world pass by outside the window of the car, his eyes focused on the passersby on the street and his mouth set into a thoughtful frown. He didn't look troubled or disquieted, but simply tired, blinking slowly every few seconds as though he were resisting the urge to keep his eyes closed and fall asleep. His face, usually so angular and well-defined, seemed softer for some reason. He looked like a child.
Meiling pursed her lips as she felt a surge of protectiveness rush over her. Syaoran had been like a brother to her all her life. He hardly ever spoke about it, but she knew that while his outward appearance seemed fine now that he was living correctly again, his mind must have seemed like a constant battlefield.
Syaoran suddenly turned to her, sensing her eyes on him, and he raised his eyebrows. "Everything okay? You look strange."
Meiling shook her head. "Everything's great." She paused. "Look, I know we said we were going to head to the studio tonight for some late-night recording, but how about we just order dinner and rent a movie? I've been dying for a night off."
Syaoran frowned. Meiling was a notorious workaholic. "You? You want a night off? Are you sick?"
Meiling laughed. "Don't be silly. But handling all of this has worn me out a bit, you know."
"Fair enough," he replied, shrugging. "Your place or mine?"
Sakura left Royal Roast Café with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. She sighed as she trudged to the park nearby. She'd contributed much more yen to the café than she could afford to since she'd started this job, but what could she do? She would have felt rude just sitting in there without having bought anything. Reaching a bench in the park, she sat down and rested her chin in her hand, leaning her elbow on her knee and trying not to look too sulky.
I'm becoming a regular there just by stalking this guy, she thought to herself. It had been two weeks and she had had yet to see him; this was her fourth outing trying to hunt him down for a measly picture. She enjoyed working in the offices, as everyone was surprisingly friendly (although unsurprisingly addicted to gossiping). She was getting by working on small pieces here and there, but she knew she was not fulfilling the job she'd been assigned—to find and write about Syaoran Li—and she felt like she wasn't truly earning her pay. As a result, she'd taken time out of her own schedule, even when she was off work, to venture out and see if she could spot him and snap a few pictures with the camera that the office had provided her.
The profile on him that she'd received had said that the Royal Roast Café and the park next to it were his haunts, places where he'd gone regularly to write music and think. He had been photographed leaving the café several times before. But maybe he had stopped going to these places because it was obvious that he needed to think, Sakura figured, and how could he think if there were fifty photographers standing outside, each waiting to take a prized snapshot of him?
Sakura felt bad for him. He had such little privacy, and she couldn't imagine that anyone in his right mind would enjoy that kind of invasion in his personal life. She had read up on him in the days leading up to her job, and each detail she'd discovered about his life, she'd taken with a grain of salt. Who knew what kinds of lies the media made up about him? It seemed that they struggled to get any information about him outside of his official interviews, so it would only make sense that they'd make things up to sell a story. He was wealthier and more popular than Sakura could fathom, but she felt that he must have led a hard life regardless.
Sighing, she held out the picture she'd received when she'd first agreed to sign on to the Glimmer team. Yamazaki had been gracious and patient about her inability to actually find this Syaoran Li and get pictures of him, saying every beginner took a little while, but Sakura felt like an utter failure. Really, how hard was it to find one person if he frequented these spots so often? There weren't even that many people at the park today to sift through! Sakura examined the picture more closely, and she committed herself to memorizing the details of his face so she could better recognize him in real life. Unruly brown hair, a bit of a darker shade than the average brown; brighter, deeper brown eyes; strong bone structure, which gave him an air of confidence; but the look in his eyes was kind, so he didn't look too severe. He was certainly attractive enough, but Sakura wondered if he was a nice person.
She lowered the picture, and she nearly jumped when she saw the subject of the picture—the real Syaoran Li—sitting casually on a bench across from her, just a few meters away. Or... Well, she thought, it seemed like him. She blinked, then looked at the picture, then back at him. He was wearing a baseball cap and thick, black-framed glasses, so she couldn't be sure. But there was no mistaking that gorgeous bone structure. Right? Perhaps it was just a really good-looking doppelganger, Sakura thought suddenly. Tokyo was a big city! God knew how many people who were out there who happened to look like Syaoran Li. Sakura bit her lip, trying to find an indicator that it was him. There weren't any other photographers around him, but perhaps they didn't recognize him, either.
Sakura's camera felt heavy around her neck, and she sighed. There really was only one way to find out.
Standing up and walking over to him, Sakura felt her palms sweating. Not that she cared that she was possibly approaching a celebrity, but she had no idea how to do this without looking like an idiot. Possible-Syaoran did not notice her approaching, as he sat with his head leaning back over the edge of the bench. He certainly looked forlorn enough to be Syaoran Li, considering the current state of his life, Sakura thought.
"Um... Excuse me?" she said, her voice hesitant.
No response.
She tilted her head to the side. She felt awful for bothering him, but she needed to earn her pay, she told herself. "Excuse me, sir?" she said a little more loudly.
Possible-Syaoran's head snapped up, and he glanced at her with a miffed look. Sakura noticed his eyes pause at her camera on his once-over of her. He looked wary. Perhaps it was him.
"I, uh..." What do I say? What if I'm wrong? Sakura sighed. Better safe than sorry. "Are you... By any chance, are you Syaoran Li?"
Syaoran looked at the girl before him with a mixture of exasperation, surprise, and amusement. She was clearly a paparazzo—but she had to be new to the job. Was he Syaoran Li? He hadn't heard those words in that order since his college days. She'd essentially offered him an out to being photographed. He'd have to leave the park, but at least he could escape being a paparazzi target for a day, thanks to the newcomer.
Resisting the urge to laugh, he cleared his throat and spoke with a slightly deeper voice. "No, no I'm not. But I do get that a lot."
Expecting her to give up and leave, Syaoran coughed in surprise when the girl sat down beside him, took his hand, and shook it vigorously up and down.
"My name is Sakura Kinomoto." She bowed her head slightly. "I'm so sorry to bother you—it looked like you were deep in thought—but I've been working for two weeks and my job is to get photographs of Syaoran Li, and I've had no luck at all. You really do look enough like him—" and at this point, the girl—Sakura, as she'd introduced herself—took a photograph that Syaoran recognized as one of his headshots out of her pocket and held it up beside his face— "so could you please, please just pose for a couple of pictures and act like you're him for a second? I really, really need to keep my job. My rent is coming up, and—"
Without meaning to, Syaoran chuckled, cutting her off. He scooted back a little when he saw her glaring at him for the interruption.
"You're really new to the industry, aren't you?" he said, taking off his baseball cap and running a hand through his hair.
Sakura gasped, all anger seemingly forgotten. "You even have his hair! This is perfect!"
"You also seem to have the attention span and the common sense of a five-year-old. How are you a paparazzo?" Syaoran asked, amusement continuing to tint his voice.
Sakura frowned. "What do you mean? You said you weren't Syaoran Li, but you definitely look enough like him. Look, I just really need some photos, I swear I won't even get your name. I can just make up the article, since Yamazaki seems to encourage far-fetchedness, anyway," she muttered, seemingly more to herself than to the man beside her. She looked back up at him. "Please? What have you got to lose?"
Syaoran sighed as the girl continued to babble on in her efforts to persuade him. She seemed harmless enough. Maybe he could just do her a favor and—Wait a second, what the hell are you thinking? Weren't you supposed to have gotten up and left two minutes ago? Syaoran felt his resolve waver, though, as he glanced at the girl. She needed to keep her job, she'd said. He had never known what that had felt like. And, she was definitely much nicer—if not a bit dumber, he thought—than the average paparazzo. You're an idiot, he chided himself, before he held out his hand and spoke.
"Syaoran Li, at your service."
Sakura grinned and clapped her hands. "Perfect! Thank you so much. Now, if you'll just take off your glasses, no one will even be able to tell the difference—"
Syaoran's eyes widened a little as he watched her reach over to him and carefully take off the fake glasses. He felt an odd sensation run through him, but his exasperation at her dimness took over before he could fully register what exactly that sensation was. "Look, Sakura—you said your name was Sakura, right?—I mean it. Syaoran Li, at your service... Literally."
Sakura frowned for a moment, and then she gasped in realization. "You're really—you're really him?"
Syaoran chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, really—hey, ow!" He stopped laughing as he felt a sharp sting on his arm from where she'd just slapped him. "What the hell was that for?" he said, rubbing his arm.
"You lied to me! I asked you nicely if you were him, and you told me no. And you've been thinking I'm stupid this entire time!" Sakura said, her voice defensive.
"Look, lady, I don't know enough about you to care about whether you're stupid or not. And this is one of those situations where honesty isn't necessarily the best policy, wouldn't you say? Could you blame me for lying?" he grumbled.
At that, Sakura seemed to draw back. "I'm sorry," she said, pursing her lips. "I know it's a hassle—I really—if it makes you feel any better, I really hate this job. I don't believe in it, but... But I really needed the money!"
Syaoran waved it off. "Yeah, yeah, you and every other stinking paparazzo in this city. It's whatever, just take the pictures."
Sakura looked up at him, still feeling guilty. "Are you sure?"
Syaoran snorted. "Yes, I'm sure. Take this opportunity before I change my mind. I've never done this kind of thing before."
Sakura smiled. "Thank you!"
For the next few minutes, Syaoran worked in a different kind of photo shoot under the direction of this strange new paparazzo, acting unassuming so that Sakura could feign candids. At the end of the photo shoot, they snuck in a fun picture where he pretended to glower at the camera, looking like he'd finally caught on that he was being photographed. Syaoran laughed when she showed him the last one on the screen of the camera.
"All right, well, if that's satisfactory, I'm out of here before anyone else catches me," Syaoran said, pulling on his baseball cap and placing the glasses back on his face.
"Thank you, really, for helping me. You're a lifesaver," Sakura said, the gratitude in her voice sincere. He had to be a nice guy, she decided. What kind of celebrity, especially one whose life had just been ruined by the paparazzi in recent months, willingly did this kind of thing?
"Don't sweat it. Just don't make it a regular thing, for the love of God." Syaoran held up a hand to wave goodbye. "See you around, Sakura."
Sakura waved back, sitting on the bench and watching him walk off. She replayed the entire scene in her head, reminiscing in the nice memory, until she gasped and smacked a hand to her forehead.
I can't believe I slapped Syaoran Li on the arm!
That's the end of chapter three! I hope it satisfied. Although it's an AU story, I'm trying very hard to keep the characters close to their canon selves. Sometimes, though, it's difficult for me to characterize them in canon because the story places them in some bizarre situations. Let me know if I stray too far off base! Hopefully, though, I'm doing a decent job of it. Anyway, you've seen a bit of Syaoran's past—from Eriol's point of view, anyway—and how he got to be where he was. If you re-read the introductory bio article about him from the first chapter as well, it gives you a pretty solid idea of his character and his background. Later, we'll learn more about Sakura, who of course has a much more normal backstory. Also, Sakura and Syaoran have met for the first time now, hmm. In the next chapter, Sakura finds out some interesting opinions about Syaoran from inside the journalism world, and the two meet for a second time. It's in the works, so it should be up soon! Thanks for reading, and please leave a review! ^^
Love,
boreum dal
