radio star

vi. welcome distraction

"Sakura! Oh, thank God you're all right," Chiharu sighed, hugging her colleague as she came to sit at her desk. "I could kill Takashi! Did it hurt a lot?"

"It's fine, it was just a nosebleed that got out of control," Sakura laughed.

Chiharu pursed her lips. "Still, if you had to go to the hospital for it... How'd you get there, anyway?"

"Huh? Oh, I—I took the bus," Sakura mumbled before hurriedly switching on her computer and looking through papers that had been placed on her desk.

"Gosh. Did a lot of people stare?"

"Uh... Yeah, a little bit." Sakura laughed lightly, trying to look focused on her work.

Chiharu sighed. "Well, I'm sorry again that you had to go through that. I told Takashi he needs to pay for your hospital bills since it's his fault, so forward the bill to the office whenever it comes in your mail, would you?"

"Oh, okay then," Sakura said absentmindedly, actually reading through the papers now, trying to decide what assignment she should tackle first.

After a few moments' silence, she realized her folly as she remembered that Syaoran Li had already requested the hospital to send the bill directly to him.

"Oh, wait, wait, Chiharu, that's totally unnecessary," Sakura said hurriedly. "I've got the bill covered!"

Chiharu shook her head. "Nonsense! It was Takashi's poor judgment that got you out there and run over in the first place, so he should pay your bill! I insist."

"No, really," Sakura said, her tone almost aggressive, "it's fine. I, uh... I already made arrangements to pay it."

Chiharu raised an eyebrow at her friend's unnecessary distress. "Are you sure? It's the least he could do. It would make him feel better about the whole thing."

Sakura waved her hand dismissively. "We can think of some other way for him to make it up to me if he feels that bad about it, but really, he doesn't need to pay my bill! It's okay. I promise."

"Well, all right. I'll let him know when he gets back in to his office." Chiharu laughed. "You sure are a strange one, Sakura."

Sakura let out a strangled noise that sounded something like a laugh and buried her head in her papers, wiping sweat off of her brow. You have no idea.


"Stop, this isn't working! What are you, a zombie? I want to hear more emotion in that voice of yours!"

Syaoran lowered his headphones from his ears and glared through the window at Matsura, his record label CEO, who had decided to sit in and watch Syaoran as he went through his recording session for the day.

"My workdays only last this long when you decide to watch," Syaoran grumbled.

"Don't you smartmouth me," Matsura shot back, unaffected by Syaoran's words. "You record your best songs when I'm around and you know it."

Syaoran rolled his eyes, but he knew that the man had a point. Matsura was a perfectionist, even more so than Syaoran. Because of that perfectionism and his keen ear for what created good music, most of Syaoran's best-selling singles had been recorded with Matsura present.

The others working in the studio smirked at each other knowingly upon hearing the bickering between the singer and his boss. Within the team of people who had worked with Syaoran for long enough a time, it was a well-known fact that Matsura looked after Syaoran like a son, as Syaoran had lost his own father at a very early age. Still, their relationship was almost more brotherly than paternal—they often comically argued like children, with Syaoran mouthing off at Matsura's many empty threats. This probably also came about in part because Matsura was not actually that much older than Syaoran; at the age of thirty-five, he was only twelve years Syaoran's senior. Still, most would have balked at such a relationship between a younger person and his superior—it went against all standards of traditional hierarchy and respect—but it was understood that Matsura cared deeply about Syaoran, and Syaoran in turn respected Matsura to the highest degree. As a result, neither saw anything wrong with what Matsura referred to as "good-natured ribbing" between the two, and that was that.

Matsura crossed his arms, the black spiky hair atop his head making him appear somewhat sharklike. He watched Syaoran through sharp rectangular glasses that gave him a sense of sternness, but his voice was less gruff as he spoke once more. "Try to get it in one go this time, would you? You do well enough on the chorus, but these verses need work. They're meaningful words, so sing them like you actually mean them."

"Right," Syaoran said, nodding and putting his headphones back on his head as the music started.

Distractedly, he caught sight of his phone, sitting in a table outside the booth, and for a fraction of a second, he remembered that he'd given that paparazzo his number. For some reason, he was peeved that she hadn't called him yet. Who did she think she was, anyway? But his cue to sing came up, and with no more time to think idle thoughts, he closed his eyes and began to sing.

"Just wait a little longer
I'm coming home.
The way you sigh as you speak,
it's something I need to hear—
"

"Cut," Matsura called. "Syaoran, what are you doing? This should not be that hard!"

Syaoran clenched a fist and narrowed his eyes as he envisioned pulling off his headphones and chucking them at Matsura's head through the window. "I'm sorry, maybe it's just not my day."

"Yeah, well, maybe you missed your day when you decided to skip out on work for three whole days!" Matsura growled, more serious now.

Syaoran stared incredulously. "Are you still hung up on that? Matsura, that was weeks ago, I apologized—"

"And yet I'm still doing damage control, you ungrateful bastard!"

Syaoran felt the sting of truth in his boss's words. He always tried to remember to be humble, as his mother had raised him that way, but she had always pointed out that he lacked consideration at times.

Syaoran sighed, running a hand through his own hair. "Okay. Right. I'm sorry. I'm trying."

He looked through the window at Matsura. "Look, I don't mean to sound like a baby, but I wrote these songs when I did mean them. I don't know if you've heard the news or anything, but I'm not really madly in love with the sighs of anyone's voice at the moment." He smiled wryly.

Matsura sighed as well, sitting down in his chair and clasping his fingers together in thought. "I get it. But weren't you an actor once? And a pretty good one, at that? You can't conjure up some of those emotions? You know what it's like to feel like you're falling in love. Isn't that enough?"

Syaoran shrugged. "I normally could, but I guess I've been distracted..." He laughed suddenly, scratching his head. "We really have to finish this particular track today, huh? No room for anything melancholy? I'd be pretty good at that."

Matsura smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I told the promoters weeks ago that we'd decided on this one as the next single. Life has piss-poor timing, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, you're telling me," Syaoran muttered. "Well, do you think you could give me a moment?"

Matsura nodded. "Sure thing."

Syaoran wracked his brain, but all he could see were images of Mizuki in his head, and with those images, all he could feel was the tightness in his chest that hadn't quite left him yet. This particular song was a song he had written a few days after they had made up from a big fight.

It was hard to recall what they had fought about, but it had been huge, with Mizuki leaving his apartment in tears and the two of them refusing to speak for two days. She had come back in the late evening of the third day, her wavy ash-blonde hair set aglow in the moonlight, murmuring apologies as she stared off to the side, tears rolling down her face. Syaoran had missed her so much that he pulled her in immediately, shut the door, and kissed her against the wall for what felt like hours. He remembered staring up at her and thinking how beautiful she was, how lucky he was, as she lay on top of him afterward, resting her chin on his chest, the both of them splayed out on his moonlit living room floor.

It had been one of his nicest memories, and now all it was serving to do was set his mind and his heart aflame with regret. He suddenly missed her very much.

But he could remember the happiness he had felt within the moment, what had driven him to write that song in the first place.

Come on. You're an actor at heart. You can make yourself feel anything. And just like he had managed to do all those years ago, back when he was in a different part of the entertainment industry, Syaoran squared his shoulders, swallowed his feelings, and dug out the memories that would serve as his shield.

"Okay. I think I've got it," Syaoran said, nodding.

"All right, then, one more time. From the top. Let's make it the last one, you hear?" Matsura said, starting the music once more.

Syaoran closed his eyes and began to sing once more.

"Just wait a little longer
I'm coming home.
The way you sigh as you speak,
it's something I long to hear.
Why we're here only now,
why you've only just turned around,
I won't even ask—
just take this hand.
Go on, smile—just like that,
And let's get out of here."

The music swelled, and Syaoran charged into the chorus without a second thought, lost now in the music.

"I'll look after you.
You're home in my arms.
I'll be right here,
so stay close by.
And when your breaths catch short,
come close, I'll wait—
I'll be right here.
"

"Perfect!" Matsura called, cutting off the music and holding a thumbs up, his face stretched in a grin. "You nailed it."

Syaoran let out an exhale. "Thanks. Can I go to lunch now?"

"Sure thing." Matsura looked at the sheet of lyrics for the song as Syaoran came out of the booth. "So, you're calling this song 'Stay'? You know, this song is a little different from your usual fare."

"Yeah... Well, it was a different time," Syaoran said, and he left it at that. "Be back in an hour."

Matsura nodded, figuring he shouldn't pry. He knew Mizuki was a sore subject.

Syaoran grabbed his phone on his way out of the studio, and again felt that odd irritation at seeing that the paparazzo—Sakura, he remembered—had not called him. On the one hand, he felt crazy for wanting a paparazzo to call him. But on the other hand, she'd proven to be oddly normal and noninvasive for someone of her profession, and perhaps that was what had driven him to give her his number in the first place. Or, he thought quickly to himself, he probably had just wanted to make sure she was all right.

He shrugged to himself as he walked to his car. Why should he care, he thought, if she ended up not calling? That was her decision, and it didn't affect him either way. In fact, if she didn't call, it'd be for the best, because what a PR nightmare it would be if she did end up taking advantage of his kindness after all.

Right.

But hours later, as Syaoran was leaving the studio for the day, he glanced at his phone again for the umpteenth time, and with surprising aggravation, saw that he had no missed calls.

He nearly laughed at the irony as he drove himself home: he owed this Sakura girl, for he thought he'd spend the day feeling morose over his memory of Mizuki, but his aggravation at not being called had somehow grown to outweigh those feelings in the course of the day.


"Tomoyo, don't you ever get the sense that we're a little too old for sleepovers?" Sakura asked half-jokingly, reaching over to bowl of popcorn on the coffee table with her eyes glued to the TV screen.

"Us? Never," Tomoyo responded, and a grin formed on her lips. "Oh, look, his first scene is coming up!"

Tomoyo had invited Sakura over for the evening to watch a few movies and play catch-up with each other. With most of her work done for the week, Sakura had gladly obliged. When Tomoyo had suggested they watch some of Syaoran Li's old movies from before his disappearance from the film industry, Sakura had laughed exasperatedly—she'd had quite enough of Syaoran Li lately—but her curiosity didn't allow her to say no. They'd popped in the musical that had shot him to stardom at age sixteen, Nightlight, and Sakura was intrigued at the idea of seeing him through a television screen, acting the part of a character since she had only encountered him so far in person. She thought wryly about how completely backwards that was from most normal people.

The camera panned to a young Syaoran Li, oozing charisma and charm as he met the heroine's first stolen glance at him. Sakura was entranced as she watched—even at such a young age, he was positively captivating. She saw traces of the man he had become, but so thoroughly engaged in his character was he that, as she watched his monologue evolve into a song, she found herself already very involved in his character's story. And she was equally as enamored with his voice—it was smooth and rich, though obviously not as deep as it was now. Even so, there was a rough texture to it that didn't take away from, but rather added something special to the overall effect of it. It was comforting; Sakura felt herself being enveloped in it, and the sweet words of his song sounded even more meaningful in his voice:

"You color this black-and-white world
with your beautiful light."

As the movie progressed, Tomoyo glanced over at her friend, smiling at how invested Sakura seemed in the film. "I remember my first time watching Syaoran Li on film," she said, giggling.

Snapped out of her trance, Sakura blushed. "It's not just that. I mean—he is a very good actor and singer, but..."

Tomoyo lifted an eyebrow. "But?"

"Well, I sort of ran into him again yesterday," Sakura mumbled, staring at the screen. She'd been holding off on telling Tomoyo because—

"You what? Sakura, you ran into Syaoran Li? AGAIN?" Tomoyo shouted, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie. In her excitement, she nearly knocked over the bowl of popcorn.

Precisely because of that kind of reaction.

"I mean, it is a bizarre story, but I can't tell you if you're going to shout at me," Sakura giggled.

Tomoyo crossed her arms, her face composed into a glare. "You should have told me as soon as you walked in my door!"

"I was just waiting for the right time—it's a long story—"

"Oh my God, you have a long story about Syaoran Li!" Tomoyo squealed, the glare gone.

Sakura laughed. "I'll never understand how someone usually so composed loses her mind over celebrity gossip." She leaned back against the sofa, launching into it and explaining the story in full.

Tomoyo's eyes could not have grown any wider as she listened, Sakura thought, and by the time the story was finally over, Tomoyo had been rendered nearly speechless. But once she found herself able to speak again, she fired question after question, hardly letting Sakura answer one before moving onto the next.

"Wait, so let me get this straight," Tomoyo said, her head tilted to the side. "Syaoran Li... Syaoran Li rescued you?"

"Er... Well I wouldn't say he rescued me—"

"And then he brought you up to his studio?"

"Yeah, it was the only way to avoid attracting the attention of the paparazzi again—"

"Even though you're technically a paparazzo, too?"

"Yeah, that part was a little odd, I'm not exactly sure what he was thinking. One thing's for sure, he's not the smartest celebrity out there—"

"And he spent his whole day with you?" Tomoyo's voice was rising drastically in pitch again, making Sakura back up a little, a nervous laugh escaping her.

"Only because he had to—he told me I couldn't go to the hospital alone and he wouldn't leave me by myself when we were waiting, that's all."

"That's all?" Tomoyo squealed. "Oh my gosh, Sakura, I think he likes you!"

"What?" It was Sakura's turn to raise her voice. "Tomoyo, that's crazy! What made you jump to that conclusion?"

"Think about it," Tomoyo said, clapping her hands. "He let you into his studio even though you're the very type of person he was trying to avoid. He took care of your nose, and even if he said some not-so-nice things about you, he apologized and took you to the hospital, even though he could've gotten caught. He insisted on staying with you, he took you home, and he gave you his number! What kind of guy—what kind of celebrity—does that unless he's interested in you?"

Sakura averted Tomoyo's eyes, looking off to the side uncomfortably. "I know it all sounds a little...abnormal," she admitted. "I don't know what his motives were. But I'm pretty positive he's not interested in me like that. If anything, he's just a nice guy."

Tomoyo sighed. "You can't even let me fantasize about this, can you? Have you even called him yet?"

Sakura looked at her phone, which sat on the table. "No," she said sheepishly. "I saved his number and everything, and I've thought about it all day, but... He's a celebrity."

"So?"

"So that's a little weird! I'm sure it was just out of courtesy. It'd be so strange for me to call him and update him on my condition. And I'm fine, honestly."

Tomoyo pursed her lips. "You are the strangest girl, Sakura. Any other girl in Japan would probably commit some serious crimes to obtain that phone number, and you're avoiding it."

Sakura shrugged. "What can I say? It makes me uncomfortable. Now can we go back to watching the movie? I was actually really interested in it."

Tomoyo laughed, switching the DVD back on. "Sure."

"I never did get any good pictures of him, though," Sakura sighed. "There goes one of my better paychecks."

Just then, Sakura's phone went off, buzzing loudly against the table. Her eyes widened as she picked it up.

Tomoyo scooted closer to see who it was. "I knew it!" she squealed upon seeing. "Syaoran Li is calling you!"

Sakura stared at the phone, not knowing what to do as it lit up over and over, until an incredulous Tomoyo grabbed the phone and in one swift movement, hit the "answer" button and put it on speakerphone, looking at Sakura with an expression that Sakura could only describe as are-you-crazy-why-wouldn't-you-pick-up.

"Hello?" the voice that sounded through the speaker was rough, solemn—most definitely Syaoran's, Sakura thought.

Tomoyo nudged Sakura in the waist, prompting her to answer.

"Er... Hi?" she said, shrugging at Tomoyo, indicating that she didn't know what to say.

"You never called me."

"Oh, uh... Yeah. I'm sorry. I figured you would be busy, and I didn't want to bug you—"

"That's dumb."

"Excuse me?" Sakura said, indignant. She had almost forgotten how rude he could be.

"I was kind of worried. It was distracting," he grumbled then, catching her off guard.

Tomoyo looked at Sakura with wide eyes. "Oh, my God," she mouthed.

"I'm sorry," Sakura said, her voice softer. "I'm fine, though. I feel great. Thank you again for taking me to the hospital."

"It was nothing. So you're okay?"

Sakura nodded, and then, remembering that he couldn't see her, spoke out loud. "Yeah. I'm sorry for not calling, though. I guess it was a little rude, after all—especially if you were distracted all day."

"I wasn't distracted all day," he said, his voice suddenly defensive, and then it grew a little quieter once more. "But it was a welcome distraction, in a way."

Sakura and Tomoyo exchanged a glance before Tomoyo said quietly, "Tell him you need pictures."

Sakura shook her head furiously. "Are you crazy? I can't just ask him to meet up," she whispered.

"Just do it. What could it hurt?" Tomoyo whispered back. "If you don't, I will—"

And with that, Sakura clapped a hand over her best friend's mouth and laughed nervously before speaking. "Uh... Well, if you want more distractions from my end, well... This is going to sound really stupid and I understand if you don't want to do it, but..." She paused, not knowing if she could quite bring herself to ask. It was so tactless.

"Yes?"

She sighed. "Do you think there's any way we could meet up and I could get a few photos of you? I sort of really needed them when I was at the studio and I hardly got any at all..."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, and Sakura bit her lip, feeling dumb. Of course he would say no, since any self-respecting celebrity would—

And then, much to her astonishment, a chuckle came over the speaker. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but why not. What are you doing tomorrow?"


That's it for chapter six! I know this doesn't answer any questions about Sakura's blue-eyed stranger, but I promise it'll all be explained in the next chapter. I know I've been saying that about her past for like, the last three chapters, but I just keep coming up with all this material to put in between and it keeps getting pushed back! But there's no avoiding it in chapter seven, I promise. Although, to answer a common thought, the stranger is not Eriol. It'll be an original character, and I suppose the mystery is more in her history with him rather than who he is.

Regarding the song lyrics in this chapter, they're all modified translated Korean songs. The lyrics from Syaoran's "Stay" are actually inspired by the translated lyrics of a Korean song called "Stay" by a group called SG Wannabe. I took a few translated lines and added my own as well—but, alas, I'm terrible at rhyming, so I hope it's all right that my lyrics don't really rhyme. XD Syaoran's line from "Nightlight" is actually line from Epik High's "Pencil Sharpener," although the original translated line would be, "You color this black-and-white world with your beautiful rhyme."

To DEH – You're actually so right, and I had a hard time deliberating what amount of time Sakura would have to spend waiting in the ER before she was seen. I figured a bloody nose wasn't too urgent, but then again, if it's been bleeding for a while, I guess it could be considered pretty serious?

All right, that's it for now! I'll be back with chapter seven soon, and that's a promise! It'll be full of Sakura and Syaoran, since it's mainly (if not completely) about their next meeting. See you guys soon, thanks for reading! Please leave a review and let me know how I'm doing.

Love,

boreum dal