radio star

xii. border

"Hello?"

"Yo, monster."

Sakura's eye twitched.

"I AM NOT—" Sakura held her phone away from her ear for a moment and glanced around her office, laughing nervously when she realized that several of her coworkers were staring at her. She bowed awkwardly and ducked down into her cubicle, settling for an angry whisper. "Touya, I am not a monster! I'm twenty-two years old, aren't I a little old for that nickname?"

"You'll always be a monster to me."

Sakura resisted the urge to scream and let out a long sigh. "What number are you calling from? I didn't recognize it."

"I got a new phone today. My old one shorted out. That's why I haven't called you in a while."

"Ah."

"So, I was calling because I'm in town."

Sakura had to stifle a squeal. "Really?"

"Yeah. On a business trip for two weeks. I should see you relatively soon, once I get my schedule figured out. I'll try to see when Dad is free, too, and we can all get dinner."

Touya had been overseas in Washington, D.C. working for the Japanese Embassy. Although he was able to visit about twice a year because of his work, it never seemed like enough for Sakura, who missed him terribly.

"Yukito, too?"

"Yeah, yeah. He's here. He won't stop yammering about how he can't wait to see you."

"Tell him I can't wait to see him either!" Sakura said excitedly.

"I get no love in this family," Touya grumbled.

Sakura giggled. "Not our faults you decided to date someone so perfect."

Yukito, her brother's longtime best friend and partner, was like a second brother to Sakura and one of her favorite people. He got along wonderfully with both Sakura and her father as well. He also provided great counsel—perhaps she could get a moment alone with him and explain to him the whirlwind pattern that her life had taken on, and he could help her get her head on straight again.

"Well..." Touya sighed. "I guess I can't argue with that."

Sakura smiled as she heard her brother's voice soften. "No, you can't. So, dinner in a few days?"

"Yeah. I'll get back to you."

"Tell Yukito I said hello!"

"I wouldn't dream of it. See you, monster."

Sakura put down her phone and turned back to her computer, but just as she did, it rang again. "Strange Man" appeared on her screen, and she looked around for a moment before ducking once more and answering it in a hurried whisper.

"Hello?" she said, feeling ridiculous.

"Hey. Are you practicing for your spy movie again?" Syaoran's voice came from the other line, and although it was serious, she could tell he was on the verge of laughing.

"Shut up," Sakura whispered as fiercely as she could. "I'm at work! You shouldn't be calling me."

"Whoops. I forgot."

"Yeah, we mere mortals have regular working schedules."

"Shoot me," Syaoran said. "I wanted to know what you were doing for lunch."

Sakura's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She frowned. "Did we arrange a meeting today? I must have forgotten... Sorry, I've been so busy—"

"We didn't have anything planned for today," Syaoran interrupted. He was quiet for a moment, and then, "I just wanted to see you."

"I—" Sakura was struck speechless. She tried to breathe, and suddenly, she no longer needed to exert any effort to whisper. "What? No camera?"

"I don't know. I'm not used to having a day off nowadays, and I'm kind of bored. And the way to cure boredom is to see your friends, right?" he said casually.

"Oh," Sakura said. See? He's just bored, Sakura. Pull yourself together. "Well—right, but... Isn't there...a tiny problem with that?"

"What?"

"Um... I mean..." Sakura shook her head, trying to clear it. "I mean, we could get caught..."

"Oh, right. That." Syaoran paused. "I could pull a few strings."

Sakura looked up at the ceiling and sighed, her eyes wide. This was all very bizarre. She supposed stranger things had happened to her; that much was true. Too bad they all revolved around Syaoran Li as well.

"So, what do you say?" Syaoran pressed. "Your lunch break's in fifteen, right?"

"Yeah," Sakura breathed.

"Great. I'll pick you up."

"But I—"

"Don't worry. I have tinted windows. No paparazzi have ever seen me in this car. We're golden."

And with that, Strange Man had hung up the phone and left no room for argument. Sakura let out a long exhale and set the phone back down on her desk, staring at it cautiously with one eyebrow raised to see if it'd ring again.

"Sakura? Are you all right?" Sakura glanced up to see Chiharu peering over her cubicle wall at her.

Sakura swallowed. "Er... Yeah, why? What's up?"

"I just kept hearing you whisper on your phone and you seemed kind of panicked, so I was wondering if everything's okay."

"Oh," Sakura said, and she laughed weakly. "That? That's just something I do sometimes... You know..."

Chiharu raised an eyebrow, but then she shrugged and laughed. "You really are so odd sometimes, Sakura. Well, what are you doing for lunch? Wanna go to the bakery together?"

"Oh! Well, I'd love to, but... Ah..."

"Sakura! You're blushing!" Chiharu gasped. "Is it a boy?"

"What? No!"

"I think it is!" Chiharu giggled. "Well, okay. You don't have to go to lunch with me today. But I want details as soon as you get back!"

Chiharu sat back down in her cubicle, leaving Sakura to collapse on her desk. She was going to have to tell Syaoran to seriously leave her alone when she was at work—he was making people think she was crazy.

It had been three weeks since Syaoran had slept over at Sakura's apartment, and something between them had shifted, albeit very slightly, after that. They met more frequently now—twice a week, usually—and although Sakura quite enjoyed it, she knew it was far more than necessary. Syaoran had an incredibly busy schedule now that he was promoting, and Sakura suspected that he was giving up quite a bit of his only free time to do these photo shoots with her. And while she took pictures every time, she had too many to give to Yamazaki—she'd even told Syaoran this, who had waved it off and uncharacteristically said something about never having too many photographs—and they spent more of their time simply talking to each other. He had even taken her to see a movie afterwards once, both of them wearing ridiculous wigs—his blond and hers cotton candy-pink—that had suited them strangely well. If their circumstances weren't so strange and she didn't consider Syaoran so far out of her own realm of reality, she would almost think they were in an odd limbo between friendship and dating. It was something she couldn't dare to think about for more than a few moments—but when she did, she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Still, even with all the time they'd spent together, he was also more private, somehow. Since the morning he'd left her apartment, Syaoran had not made any more confessions to her about his feelings regarding his celebrity status or Mizuki, and although Sakura was vastly curious about it, she'd decided that it was best to leave it alone. If he felt like telling her anything else, she reasoned, eventually, he would.

They had developed an unexplained, undiscussed comfort with each other in this time that had left Sakura feeling quite dazed whenever she saw him. And she couldn't help but wonder—why would they spend so much time together, particularly at Syaoran's insistence, when he was so busy?

Because we have a business arrangement, Sakura remembered, and she sighed as she smacked herself on the head. Don't get carried away.

It seemed she had to give herself reminders like this more and more often. This was becoming a problem.

But on top of her growing attraction to Syaoran, there was also the issue of her journalistic relationship with him. The more time passed, the more she felt that this was wrong. Even though she worked at a tabloid, she still liked to keep herself in check as a journalist—because, at some point in her life, that was what she wanted to be. And even as Syaoran continued to permit her to take these photographs and the likelihood of Yamazaki getting angry if he found out the truth was slim to none, Sakura hated herself for lowering her standards so much. As much as she hated it, she had a growing feeling that at some point soon, she'd need to make the choice between her friendship with Syaoran and her career at Glimmer.

Sakura's phone rang again not long after the initial phone call from Syaoran, and she hurriedly ignored the call and texted him instead: I'm coming, give me a second!

She gathered her things and ran out of the office before anyone could catch her getting into what was undoubtedly going to be a conspicuously nice car, shouting goodbye at Chiharu.

"I don't appreciate you ignoring my calls," Syaoran said as Sakura slid into the car—which, true to form, was a sleek, dark green Ferrari—and shut the door.

"Well, you can't keep calling me at work! People think I'm crazy because they hear me talking on the phone to you!"

Syaoran scoffed. "I'm sure they thought you were crazy well before I ever even got your phone number."

"Whatever! You're the crazy one. I can't believe you're just casually driving by my work and picking me up! What if someone sees you?"

"Well, they haven't yet," Syaoran said with a shrug, and he shifted gears and began to drive. "So, we have a couple of safe options. Chinese or Italian? You pick."

Sakura pursed her lips in suspicion. "How are we going to get away with this? ...Are you breaking out the wigs again? I don't know if I could handle that."

Syaoran laughed. "No, I happen to know the owners. But what have you got against the wigs?"

"Oh, right," Sakura said, a little surprised. Nowadays, she and Syaoran treated each other with such normalcy that, even while sitting in a car that was worth more than Sakura would make in her lifetime, she forgot that Syaoran was a person with many connections and quite a bit of power. After all, today was possibly the most normal meeting they'd had—it was the first time she had come out to see him without her camera in hand. She tilted her head to the side. "Maybe Chinese?"

Syaoran grinned. "Great. This place makes the best Chinese food in Tokyo—well, maybe aside from me."

Sakura raised her eyebrows. "You cook?"

"Yeah," Syaoran said, and he turned to look at her. "You seem surprised."

"Oh, I mean—I... Well, I'd just have taken you for the type with a personal chef," Sakura said, smiling to herself. "And maybe a waitstaff."

"I'm not that high-maintenance. I clean up after myself pretty well, thank you," Syaoran said, although he chuckled. "And I'm an excellent cook."

"Really, now?"

"Yep. One day, I'll cook for you, and you'll see just how wrong you were."

Sakura didn't respond but instead watched Syaoran, whose eyes were now on the road. He had said it so offhandedly that Sakura was certain he hadn't even thought about it, but she found herself wondering if they would ever get to that point—where she could just casually visit his place and he could cook her dinner and they could truly, truly be normal friends.

A pipe dream, Sakura thought to herself. This couldn't last forever—only so long as she had her job. And in fact...

"Everything okay? You're kind of quiet," Syaoran noted, frowning.

"I'm fine!" Sakura chirped automatically, forcing her lips into a smile. "Just really hungry. I can't wait to eat."

Syaoran watched her for a moment longer, the frown still on his face. Sakura really was a terrible liar, he thought. But it appeared she didn't want to speak about what was bothering her, so he chose to leave it for now. "Yeah, you're really going to love this place, I think. Their dim sum reminds me of my mom's. I've really been meaning to take her there when she visits, but I always forget..."

Sakura tried not to let the intimidation show on her face as she glanced around the majestic restaurant, quietly following the owner, who served as their own maître d' and chattered comfortably with Syaoran as she led them down a long, intricately decorated hallway towards the back of the building.

"Thanks for doing this for us, Jia," Syaoran said. "I know it was pretty short notice, but we'd decided Chinese, and—"

"And you couldn't pick anywhere else, naturally," Jia responded jovially. "It's all right, especially after all the business you've given us!"

Sakura remained silent, although her thoughts felt loud enough to echo through the entire restaurant. When they'd arrived at the restaurant, settled right in the heart of one of Tokyo's busiest shopping districts and built to look like a grand ancient Chinese palace, Sakura had been rather confused. The restaurant appeared closed for its afternoon lunch break, but Syaoran had wordlessly led Sakura into the building anyway. Not quite knowing what to expect, Sakura had been surprised when the woman, Jia, had greeted both of them warmly. A plump, friendly-looking woman who wore a gauzy dress of deep purple and draped herself in enough jewelry to rival that of English royalty, Jia had immediately led them through the restaurant, which was, in fact, closed to the rest of the public for its afternoon break.

Sakura had never experienced anything like it before. It was strange and a bit uncomfortable to be treated like a celebrity, and although Syaoran seemed to handle it with an ease that could only come with habit, Sakura felt nervous and out of place.

As Jia sat them down in a booth in the back room, Syaoran glanced over at Sakura, who bit her lower lip and looked around with wide eyes. He bit back a smile and averted his gaze just as he saw her eyes drift towards him.

"Do I need to take an order, or...?" Jia asked, pen and pad in her hands.

Syaoran looked over at Sakura, who laughed nervously. "I'm not really sure what I'd want... Maybe I can just get some of whatever you'd have."

"I think the usual would be okay," Syaoran said to Jia with a nod. "Maybe a few samples of different dishes? Sakura hasn't been here before. I trust your judgment."

"Wonderful! I'll be back with something to drink shortly," Jia said with a grin, and she left to put in the order.

"Everything all right?" Syaoran asked, his head slightly tilted to the side.

"Yeah!" Sakura said with a nod. She smiled. "This place is really lovely."

"You're a little fidgety today, you know," Syaoran said, amusement tinting his voice.

"Oh," Sakura said, surprised. "Well..." She sighed sheepishly. "I guess I feel a little overwhelmed. I've never done anything like this before."

"What, come to a restaurant?" he teased.

"You know what I mean," Sakura said, although she felt the heaviness in her stomach lift a bit at his chiding. "It's just so"—she paused to look around at the high, regal ceilings and the exquisitely carved furniture—"so fancy, I feel like I might break something—and we're not even supposed to be here and all..."

"Says who? We got in, didn't we?"

"Well, you could be here, but... I don't know. I feel a little...grubby, I guess. Kind of like a pauper." She had to laugh at the sound of it even as she said it.

Syaoran chuckled. "A pauper? You're not in rags or anything, as far as I can see."

"Well, in the middle of all this finery, I might as well be. If you'd warned me, maybe I could have come dressed more like the owner," Sakura said with a giggle.

Syaoran glanced behind them towards the hall, where Jia had gone. "I don't think I'd take you anywhere if you dressed like Jia," Syaoran grinned. "I'd have to introduce you as my grandmother."

Sakura threw her head back and laughed at that, and Syaoran watched as she relaxed ever so slowly before him. She looked back at him, eyes twinkling now as the laughter had not quite fully left her features, and in that moment, Syaoran thought that she really had no reason to feel inadequate in their surroundings, extravagant and beautiful as they were.

"But really... Don't worry about it. You look really nice as you are."

Sakura gaped at him in wonder, trying to see if he was joking again, but his expression appeared quite solemn. He held her eyes, almost as if he were daring her to say something back, and just as Sakura managed to swallow the lump in her throat—

"Here we are," Jia sang, arriving at their table with two glasses of a bright red, fizzy concoction topped with orange slices. "These are on the house."

"Thanks, Jia," Syaoran said, giving no indication as to any awareness of the moment that had just passed between them.

"Thank you," Sakura said with a smile, bowing her head slightly. She felt drops of fizz on her hands as she took the glass, and as she sipped, her eyebrows rose in delight at the taste. She'd never had anything like it before, but it tasted like a dreamsicle in carbonated liquid form. Syaoran's words to her were momentarily forgotten.

Jia laughed. "Do you like it?"

Sakura nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, it's delicious!"

Syaoran watched the pleasant exchange and smiled to himself at Sakura's reaction.

"It's a new drink I've been working on. You two are the first non-workers to try it!"

Syaoran took a sip and nodded. "It's great. I think you've got a hit."

Jia beamed. "You're too kind! Enjoy them, then. Your food will be out soon."

Sakura and Syaoran chatted pleasantly as Jia wove in and out, bringing them this dish and that. Perhaps it was because of the lack of a camera and any kind of business presence, but as Syaoran urged her to try this dumpling or a bite of that steamed vegetable dish, even feeding her a wrap with his own hands at one point, Sakura couldn't help but feel as though, after the longest time of not having been on one, they were on a date. Syaoran's playfulness had made her feel like she was at home—or like it was no different from the time they spent alone in the studio after her shoots—and Jia's welcoming nature had warded off the sense that she was trespassing into a world where she did not belong.

And amidst all the eating and the joking and the laughing, Sakura continually came back to one thought in her head, no matter how much she tried to keep away from it:

What's happening to us?

"Thanks for everything, Jia," Syaoran said as he signed his credit card receipt and handed it back to the woman. "I'm stuffed. It really hit the spot."

"Of course it did!" Jia boasted proudly. "Did your guest enjoy it as well?"

"Yes, she really did," Syaoran said, smiling. "She ran off to use the restroom, but when she comes back she's probably going to shower you with so much thanks that it makes you uncomfortable," he said with a laugh.

Jia smiled fondly at Syaoran, a man who, in spite of his great celebrity status throughout the continent, was as dear and familiar to her as one of her own sons. He'd been coming to this restaurant since his grade school days, long before he had ever become famous. Once his twelve-year-old self had admitted to her that he came by so often because her food "reminded him of home," Jia had taken a special liking for the boy and had even phoned in to check on him every once in a while over time. She could sense that, talented and smart though he was, he was a lonely soul. With his family so far away, she was happy that her restaurant could be a kind of home to him when he had none.

After he became famous—first for his acting, and then for his singing—he did not find as much time to come by. But when he did, it was as though they had only seen each other the day before.

As such, this familiarity with him had given Jia an insight into Syaoran's character that allowed her to see well past anything having to do with his celebrity. When his scandal hit, she had not believed a word of it and had been one of the few to whom he could come for support without even saying a word about it. So, now, when she asked him about his guest, she knew that he would tell her the truth with no fear of betrayal:

"So, are you going to tell me who she is?" the woman asked, a grin on her rouge lips.

Syaoran chuckled. "I knew you'd ask! I'm surprised you lasted this long."

"Well, I couldn't ask with her right here in front of us! And I haven't seen you smile like this in so long. You're over the moon for her."

Syaoran frowned immediately. "I am not. She's just a friend."

"Ah, but that's how it always starts out, isn't it?" she responded sagely.

Syaoran scoffed. "It's not like that. And even if it were, I'm not sure how much further it could go. She's a paparazzo," he admitted, unsure of how Jia would react. While he knew that Sakura was harmless, he wasn't quite sure how the woman—often as overprotective as his own mother—would see her, once she knew of Sakura's profession.

Surprisingly, the woman only smiled. "You really can't stand for your life to be boring, can you?"

Syaoran gaped. "Pardon?"

Jia laughed. "She seems like a nice girl. It's a bit strange—but then again, it's you, so I'm not surprised! But I trust you. You might be adventurous, Syaoran, but you've always been smart about your adventures."

She patted Syaoran on the head and walked away with his card receipt, and dazedly, Syaoran realized that he'd just gotten Jia's tacit approval to...

Syaoran shook his head to clear the thought, and he stood to meet Sakura as she came back down the hall towards him.

"Ready to go?"

Sakura nodded, and although he was suddenly quite wary of her presence, he couldn't help the buoyant feeling in his chest as she skipped down the hall alongside him.

Sakura chattered animatedly the way back to her work, earlier nerves entirely forgotten. Although Syaoran was distracted—he could only bring himself to respond with noncommittal "hm"s and "yeah"s, although he occasionally did laugh at something silly that she said—considering that this was Syaoran and that he didn't particularly seem grouchy or distressed, it didn't faze Sakura at all. They finally pulled up about a block away from Sakura's work (per her request—she didn't want Chiharu to see her getting out of a flashy car and asking more questions), and when she turned towards him to thank him, she paused.

Syaoran watched her for a moment rather than saying goodbye, and sensing that he had something to say, Sakura sat and waited, looking back at him with curious eyes.

"I'm really glad you came out today," he finally said, his voice suddenly soft and solemn compared to the humorous tone he'd adopted all through lunch.

"Me, too! You were right—the food was so good! But the price tag on that meal was so insane, you'll have to let me make it up to you soon. It might be half of my paycheck, but I think I could do it," Sakura said with a giggle.

Syaoran felt a small smile form at the corners of his lips. "Sakura."

"Yes?"

He sighed. "Do you ever... Do you ever think..." He paused for a long moment, and for some reason, Sakura felt her heart drumming as she waited for him to continue.

"Do you ever think we—"

At that moment, Syaoran's phone went off loudly, startling them both and breaking whatever spell had briefly come over them.

Syaoran grabbed the phone from the compartment in his dashboard and looked at it to see that Meiling was calling. "Shit. I need to take this—she'd said there was a chance I might have to run in to do an interview today," he muttered distractedly, and he looked up at Sakura with an emotion in his eyes that Sakura found herself scared to even try to identify. He silenced the phone, although it continued to light up with the call. "Sorry, Sakura."

"Oh! No, that's—that's really okay..." Sakura reached for the door handle as she let out a rush of breath, dazed and somewhat disappointed that she wasn't able to find out what he'd wanted to say. "I'll see you later, Syaoran—"

She paused when she felt his hand on hers. She turned back around, both startled and nervous, and met his gaze.

Without a word, he raised his hand to her face, caressing her cheek. She hesitated for a moment, opening her mouth slightly to ask him what was happening, and then she thought better of it. She leaned into his touch, despite the intense pounding of her heart, and felt his fingers flutter over her skin. His eyes never leaving hers, he drew himself closer to her. Sakura let her eyes drift closed, suddenly feeling as though she were free falling...

Syaoran's phone went off again, and both paused, although his hand still cupped her face.

But for Sakura, the moment was over, and reality rushed back in. Who am I kidding? Sakura blinked slowly, and then she exhaled. "Syaoran," she said.

"Hm," he murmured back, eyes still searching hers, the look on his face painfully vulnerable.

"I think you should answer that," she said softly.

This time, it was Syaoran who was startled, and he drew his hand back very quickly. "Right, right," he muttered, and he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry—I'll call you? Soon?"

Sakura nodded, and she resisted the urge to pull him into the kiss that she had so badly wanted just moments earlier. "Soon. See you, Syaoran."

As she stepped out of the car and shut the door, she heard him answer the phone in an agitated voice. With a wave to her—although Sakura could hardly make out his figure through the tinted windows—Syaoran sped off, and Sakura made her way back to work, heart still hammering and Syaoran's face, just inches from hers, still branded in her mind.

"So, then, Mr. Li, do you have any touring plans to promote this upcoming album?"

Syaoran stared out the window as he idly twirled his water bottle around in his hands. This is ridiculous. She's a paparazzo. This is—should be—logistically impossible.

"Mr. Li?"

"Hm?" He looked over at his interviewer, who stared at him quizzically. Meiling, who sat beside Syaoran, nudged him painfully in the ribs and shot him a look that told him to get it together. "Oh, right. Ah... What was the question again?"

The interviewer looked sheepishly down at the notepad. "I know this was very last-minute—if today is a bad day, we can finish this interview sometime later—"

"Don't be silly," Meiling said. "Today is fine. Syaoran here just hasn't been at his most focused today, obviously. He asked you if you're going to tour, Syaoran," she said, her teeth gritted as she smiled—menacingly—at her cousin.

"Oh," Syaoran said, and he looked at the interviewer apologetically. "I'm sorry about that. No, I don't have any plans to tour for this album yet, but it's not completely out of the question. It's something I'd love to do, but the purpose of this album is to really get my thoughts and feelings out there in a candid and understated way—speech through music. That's the most important thing. And then, after that, maybe I could tour. The quality of the album comes first, though. That's all I'm thinking about right now."

"This would be the first album you put out without a tour on the heels of its release, then?"

"If that ends up being the case, then yeah," Syaoran nodded. "But like I said, a tour isn't out of the question. Just not my first priority right now."

"All right," the interviewer said, scanning his notepad through his glasses. "I think that's everything... Anything else you'd like to say? Perhaps a statement about your personal—"

"No personal questions for this interview, please," Meiling cut in smoothly. "That can come later."

"Right," the interviewer said, somewhat deflated. "Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Li." He stood up and shook Syaoran's hand.

"No problem. Thanks for yours. Next time, you can call me Syaoran."

The interviewer grinned. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

After the interviewer packed his things and left the café, Meiling tugged Syaoran's sleeve. "Mind if I get a ride back with you? My driver dropped me off, but if you drove here, I'd rather not wait for him to come get me."

"Sure."

They walked out to the car, and as Meiling went on and on about their scheduling for the next few days while Syaoran drove, he found his thoughts drifting once more. He thought over and over about what had happened with Sakura—what had almost happened—and what had compelled him to do it, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what was driving him to feel the way he felt...

"Syaoran? Hello?"

Syaoran turned towards Meiling. "Yeah? What's up?"

She glared at him. "What the hell is the matter with you today? Do you know how many times that poor interviewer had to repeat himself? You probably looked like a crazy person! That's not going to help the rumors, you know!"

Syaoran sighed and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just tired, and—"

"Bullshit!" Meiling shouted.

Syaoran felt his temper rise, and he pulled the car to a stop as he parked in a spot behind Meiling's condo. "Meiling," he said calmly, closing his eyes. "I don't want to do this right now."

"Yeah? Well, I do! What is it that you're not telling me? As your manager and as your friend, I deserve to know! This is about more than just Mizuki, isn't it? This is about that other girl!"

Syaoran's eyes widened. He'd forgotten that she had ever even seen him with Sakura. He knew that there was no backing out now, though; his reaction had said more than enough, and Meiling had caught it as well.

"Syaoran," Meiling said more softly. "I'm just worried, okay? I just don't like seeing you hurt."

"I'm not a child," Syaoran muttered, but even so, his tone was petulant.

"I know. But you don't have to be a child to rely on other people to help you."

Syaoran sighed, and although he knew he could lie and keep up the charade a bit longer, there was no point in it now. Meiling had already uncovered enough that she would stop at nothing—particularly if he lied—to figure out what was happening. She might as well hear the truth from me.

"Don't kill me," he started, looking over at her with wary eyes.

Meiling gasped. "Don't tell me that you've been hanging around a prostitute or some crazy shit like that, Syaoran, because I swear to God, if you make my job any more difficult than it's been—"

"Would you calm down? She wasn't a prostitute, Meiling, give me a fucking break. She's a paparazzo."

Meiling's eyes became so wide that Syaoran thought they might pop out of their sockets. "She—she's what? Syaoran, are you out of your damn mind?"

"Would you rather I have told you I was with a prostitute?" he said wryly.

"Yes! That would be a hell of a lot better than this—"

"You're being a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"Syaoran, I'm your fucking PR agent. No, I'm not being dramatic, because what you just told me is going to jeopardize everything we've been working towards! What the hell are you thinking? A paparazzo? Who knows what she's going to say about you to the press?"

"It's not like that," Syaoran said, frowning. "She's never taken any pictures of me without my permission, she's never written anything harmful about me—"

"Without your permission? You've been letting her take photos of you?"

"Of me walking around! They're harmless!" he insisted, although he recognized that he sounded rather crazy.

"What the hell—I just don't understand, Syaoran, what would possibly drive you to do this?"

"I don't know," Syaoran muttered, staring at his steering wheel. "I like the way I feel around her, I guess. I don't feel famous."

"She's paid to take photos of you for a living, and you don't feel famous around her?" Meiling said skeptically.

"Yeah. Because she doesn't treat me like I am. I mean, we're friends, Meiling, she wouldn't—"

"How sweet," Meiling said with a sneer.

"You don't even know her!"

"I don't need to! She's a paparazzo! Those people tore you apart just half a year ago, Syaoran, do you not remember this?"

"Of course I remember!" Syaoran finally shouted. "How could I not remember, Meiling? Every day of my damn life is a reminder of that! But she's not one of those people!" His voice softened. "That's the thing... That's the thing. Meiling, she's the only person who makes me forget."

Meiling's eyes widened. The tone of his voice—the smile she'd witnessed on his face when she'd caught him on the phone, undoubtedly with this girl...

"Syaoran... You... You don't..."

And just as Meiling murmured those questioning words, Syaoran had come to the same conclusion that she had. He looked over at her, the realization as clear on his face as the surprise was on hers. "Yeah," he breathed. "I really like her."

Mizuki Akizawa stepped through the threshold, and immediately, she was blinded by flashes of light. Shouts from reporters deafened her ears, and she looked around confusedly. Sighing, she slid her sunglasses onto her face. She'd asked her people to keep this a secret, but she supposed it was a difficult job. Understandably, word had gotten out. With a nod, she stepped forward with a polite smile on her lips and kept her head down, letting her ash-blonde curls hide most of her face.

Still, she thought as she glanced around the airport, it was good to be home. She'd missed Tokyo dearly in the time she'd been away.

Of course, it had been nice to be out of the city that reminded her so much of the person who'd been her entire world for a significant portion of her life. And now that she was back, he was the first thing on her mind. He never had responded to her email, she thought.

Syaoran, how are you?

All for now! Hi, guys, sorry for the longer-than-usual wait. I've really been wrapped up in Legend of Korra this summer, and so I'd been working on a fic for that as well. I try not to keep more than one story running at once, but I couldn't help myself... Still! I am seriously always thinking about this story, and the good news is that a lot more of this plot has been structured and outlined in the time I haven't updated. So, that means the updates can come in a bit faster since I know exactly where I'm going!

So, we've finally gotten the ball rolling, eh? Although it looks like it'll be a bit of a bumpy ride, haha. Sakura and Syaoran are so slow-going in their development with each other, but they're certainly going somewhere. I'm sorry if this chapter felt rushed—I think it's because I felt a bit rushed writing it myself. I'll try to respond to reviews soon, too! I've been so bad about replying to those—but I want you guys to know that I read and savor each and everyone. You are seriously the best readers ever.

Oh! Also, Estela.A has kindly decided to translate this story into Spanish! I'm so thrilled and flattered, and she's been doing a wonderful job updating the story. If Spanish is your preferred language, go check it out. The link is on my profile.

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review—they make me so happy!

Love,

boreum dal