radio star
xvi. push
Tomoyo glanced behind her as she waited for the bartender to bring her two glasses of water. Sakura sat beside her, hazy-eyed and talking a mile a minute.
"I'm really glad you got to talk to Syaoran, Tomoyo! Isn't he so nice?"
"Uh huh," Tomoyo said distractedly, nodding as she searched the crowd for the strange man she'd seen outside. It was weird that he was even here, Tomoyo thought, as he looked middle-aged and seemed a bit old to be in this club. There was no age cutoff, but most people here were in their twenties, and at the oldest, their early thirties. Sure enough, she spotted him coming back inside and looking around, and she turned around quickly before he spotted her. She tried to quell the small sense of panic rising within her.
The bartender set two glasses of water on the bar, and Tomoyo grabbed them, handing one to Sakura, and said thanks before getting off of her stool.
"Hey, Sakura," Tomoyo said, cutting off her friend's oblivious chatter, "let's head over to the other side of the club."
"What? Oh, okay," Sakura said, following Tomoyo through the bar.
Tomoyo grabbed Sakura's hand and led her through the throng of still-dancing people, searching desperately for a security guard or a bouncer whom she could alert. She wondered vaguely if she was overreacting, but she had always thought it better to be safe than sorry. And as she turned her head ever so slightly to see if the man was following them and saw that he was, she recognized that her reaction—as well as Syaoran's—was perfectly warranted. The man, no matter his intentions, did not give off the impression that he was a harmless bystander.
Spotting a tall, muscular man with a stoic face standing near one of the side exits and wearing the club's uniform, Tomoyo beelined over to him with Sakura in tow, moving a little more quickly. She turned again to see that the man was following them more quickly now as well, and she all but pushed Sakura in front of her, keeping her hand on the small of her friend's back as they walked up to the bouncer.
"Excuse me, sir," Tomoyo said to the bouncer, and she glanced behind her once more to see that the man had paused. He must have recognized what she was doing. She wondered if this would only serve to anger him—but again, she thought, better safe than sorry.
She explained the situation to the bouncer, pointing the man out to him as discreetly as possible. Much to her relief, the bouncer nodded and asked Tomoyo and Sakura to stay put as he walked over to the man to have a word with him.
"Tomoyo, what's going on?" Sakura asked, swaying.
"Oh, Sakura," Tomoyo said, grabbing her friend's shoulders and steering her to lean against the wall. "Here, drink your water. And mine, for that matter."
Sakura obediently took several big gulps from the glass. "Is that weird guy still following us?"
Tomoyo looked over her shoulder again to see the man arguing with the bouncer, who was much bigger and taller than he.
"I think we took care of it. It's going to be okay, Syaoran is going to come get us."
Sakura's eyes widened. "Syaoran is coming here?"
Tomoyo nodded. "We need to run out to his car when he gets here, okay? If we linger, we'll draw attention."
"Okay," Sakura said, holding her glass back up to her lips once more. "I feel bad—I didn't mean to make him leave his house—"
"No, Sakura," Tomoyo said gently. "He offered. You didn't ask him to do anything."
Despite the situation, Tomoyo had to marvel for a moment at the truth of what she'd just said. Syaoran had actually offered—insisted, even—to come out to one of the busiest parts of Tokyo to retrieve them at the risk of getting photographed. Whatever his feelings actually were, he certainly gave off the impression that he cared quite deeply for Sakura.
Tomoyo looked over and sighed in relief to see that the bouncer was now escorting the man, who was pulling somewhat belligerently in the opposite direction, out of the club. The crowd of partiers parted to make way, all staring in a mixture of amusement and confusion.
"The weird guy is gone, so we don't have to worry anymore, okay?" Tomoyo said to Sakura, who nodded.
"Thanks, Tomoyo," Sakura smiled, eyelids drooping slightly to cover eyes glassy from the alcohol. "You're a great friend. I'm so lucky to have you."
Tomoyo laughed. Although she was already a relatively and affectionate open person, Sakura became even more so when she was drunk. It was a lot of fun to watch. Then again, Tomoyo thought, she was also hopelessly naïve, especially when drunk, and that helped to ignite situations like these.
"If I were such a great friend, I probably wouldn't have insisted on you drinking so much when I knew you hadn't been out in a while," Tomoyo sighed.
She glanced down at Sakura's phone, wondering how close Syaoran was, when it lit up and began to buzz in her hands. She frowned at it as "Strange Man" appeared on the screen, wondering bewilderedly for a moment if the man who had been escorted out of the club had gotten Sakura's number somehow. She hesitantly hit "answer" and held the phone to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Tomoyo? It's Syaoran."
"Oh, thank God. Sakura's got you down as some weird name in her phone, and I thought maybe that creepy guy was calling her."
"Oh, really?" Amusement colored Syaoran's voice ever so slightly. "That's interesting. I'm about a block away in a black Audi. Think you could come outside? I should be there in a minute."
"Yeah. Thank you so much."
Tomoyo hung up and turned to Sakura. "He's here! Let's get out of here."
As they made their way out of the club, finally breathing in outside air, Tomoyo looked around to spot the car Syaoran had described coming up quickly despite the large number of people who lined the streets chattering and barhopping. Tomoyo was relieved to see that no one seemed to notice anything conspicuous about the car—luxury cars were common in this area of town—and that Syaoran, who nodded discreetly to them through the windshield, was disguised just enough to not draw attention from the very drunk, very raucous crowd on the streets.
Just as Tomoyo made her way to the car, however, she felt Sakura let go of her hand and heard her let out an "Oh!" of surprise. Turning around to see what had happened, her eyes widened to see that the man who had been following them around in the club, who must have stood outside waiting for them, had pulled Sakura back by the wrist and wrapped an arm around her waist, slurring words to her that Tomoyo could not hear among the ruckus of the crowd. Frantically, she turned to Syaoran, who had also noticed this, and saw him taking off his seatbelt to get out of the car, eyes ablaze with fury.
In the few seconds that passed, Tomoyo processed what happened very slowly.
She understood, first and foremost, that her friend was in some kind of trouble, and that she needed help. She wanted anyone to help, Syaoran included, but she simultaneously recognized that if Syaoran got involved, he would face a slew of bad press and that Sakura would become part of the media speculation. And as she realized this, her stomach dropped as she watched his car door open. She turned around desperately, as if to look for any other option—and saw that in a miraculously well-timed move, in the next millisecond, the bouncer from before had parted the crowd outside, shouted the man down and grabbed him by his collar—effectively forcing him to let Sakura go in the process—and dragged him away from the vicinity of the club.
Tomoyo turned back to Syaoran's car with bated breath to see if anyone had spotted him, but she saw that Syaoran had not opened the door of his car, having seen the bouncer come in just in time. She powerful relief rush through her system, and she turned back to Sakura. "Are you okay?" she said breathlessly, ignoring the eyes of the now-intrigued crowd, most of whom quickly turned their attention to the man getting dragged away down the sidewalk.
Sakura's eyes were wide and she was clearly shaken, but she nodded. "Yeah, he didn't hurt me."
"Come on, let's go," Tomoyo said, and the two crossed the street over to Syaoran's car, which, in the middle of all the commotion in front of the club, went relatively unnoticed.
"The building on the right is mine," Tomoyo said, prompting Syaoran to slow down to a stop.
After they'd piled into the backseat of the car and sped away, Sakura had given Syaoran an enthusiastic "Hi, Syaoran!" before he could even ask her if she was all right and, much to Syaoran's amusement, thrown her arms around him in a big hug to show him her thanks before falling asleep with her head on Tomoyo's lap.
Tomoyo, feeling very sober by this point due mostly to the adrenaline of the experience, had reintroduced herself properly to Syaoran upon entering the car. Although they discussed on the way home whether to let Sakura stay at Tomoyo's for the night, Sakura had mumbled in her half-conscious state that she wanted to go home, so they agreed that it would be best to drop Tomoyo off and then let Syaoran take Sakura to her apartment.
As they drove, Tomoyo observed Syaoran carefully, wonderstruck more than starstruck because of how absolutely normal he seemed for a celebrity. While Sakura's stories had taught her not to expect diva behavior from him, it still shocked her how much he seemed like a very regular, very nice person, and it warmed her up to him immediately. And even though they had escaped attack and recognition—albeit very narrowly—she still could not believe that he had ventured out into the public to retrieve Sakura when the conditions were so risky.
"Thanks again," Tomoyo said, bowing her head slightly towards Syaoran in gratitude. "I'm so sorry that you came out and ended up in all of that commotion."
Syaoran shook his head. "Don't worry about it—I don't think anyone saw. I'm mainly glad you guys are safe. It looks like I got there just in time, huh?"
Tomoyo smiled. "Yeah, you really saved our necks back there. I had no idea how crazy that guy was. Something really bad could have happened if you hadn't come when you did. And I feel so horrible for dragging Sakura out and then having the night end like this..." She trailed off and shook her head.
"No, don't," Syaoran said, looking back at Sakura fondly—something Tomoyo caught immediately. "She seemed like she was having a lot of fun when she texted me earlier in the night. I'm sure she enjoyed it. Hopefully she'll remember some of that tomorrow," he added, laughing.
"Yeah, she might end up with a pretty bad hangover," Tomoyo said, wincing. "Do you think you're okay taking her home?"
"Yeah, I think it'll be okay," he said, and then paused before speaking again. "Er... I swear I'm just going to help her inside, no funny business—"
Tomoyo threw her head back and laughed. "It's fine. She trusts you. I trust you, too. Thanks again, Syaoran. Hopefully, I'll see you again soon."
Syaoran nodded. "It was really nice to meet you."
After Tomoyo got out of the car and Syaoran saw that she had safely entered her apartment, he began to drive the now familiar route to Sakura's apartment. He looked into his rearview mirror to see her lying across the backseat on her side, eyes closed and arms huddled up against her chest.
Finally allowing himself to heave a sigh, he felt a rush of relief as he realized that they really could have run into trouble tonight if he had not gone out to get them. Still, he was grateful that he had made the decision to go, and he was especially grateful that no one had seen it happen. Of course, he didn't desire bad press by any means; but he especially didn't want to make things even more difficult for Meiling than they already were.
I've really got to stop pressing my luck like this, though.
In his first visit to Sakura's apartment, Syaoran had found it inexplicably comforting, much like the presence of its owner. He could say the same this time around, even as he struggled to find the light switch when Sakura wandered in ahead of him, stumbling through the dark towards her bedroom without bothering to turn a light on.
Something about the scent and the temperature of the apartment, he thought, made it pleasantly warm and homey. It was slightly cooler than outside but not so warm that it was stuffy, and it smelled like a pleasant mixture of perfume and laundry detergent. Even the lights cast an incandescent glow on the place, giving it an air of welcoming. Pink, which seemed to be a color that suited Sakura's aura, popped in random bursts throughout the apartment—the ties that held the white curtains open, pink accents on the furniture, the pink house slippers that sat forgotten by the door. Modest though it was, it truly was Sakura's apartment, he thought.
Sakura's dog, which she'd introduced to him as Kero ("Short for Keroberos!" she'd exclaimed) the last time he'd been here, came up to Syaoran and sniffed his leg before deciding to pad alongside him as he trekked into the living room and sat on the sofa, wondering with some amusement if Sakura was so drunk that she would fall asleep without remembering that he was here.
He'd followed her inside to make sure she was okay and safely in bed, but now that he was in and she'd run off to her room, he wasn't sure what to do.
I guess I could wait a few minutes and then go check on her before I head home, he thought as he absentmindedly stroked Kero's head.
The dog jumped to alert, as did Syaoran when he heard a sudden thump and a crash from Sakura's room. Immediately, he shot up from the sofa and ran down the hall.
"Sakura?" he called, knocking on the door.
When he got no response, he slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door, peering inside. He was perplexed to see that she was not in the room, but when he turned his head to the left, he saw that the room was connected to a bathroom whose door was open. He walked over to it to see that Sakura was sitting on her knees, frowning over the bits of broken glass that had scattered all over the tile floor.
"Sakura, holy shit! What happened?" Syaoran asked, eyes widening as he realized that Sakura was holding her hand, which was rapidly gushing blood.
"I slipped on the floor and I tried to grab onto something, and I think... I think I knocked this cup off of the counter," Sakura said, her voice still at a slightly higher pitch than usual. The slur was still there in her words as well, and Syaoran realized she was drunker than he'd thought. She herself looked confused as to what had just happened.
"Did you try to pick it up by yourself? You're bleeding everywhere!"
"Yeah. I was trying to clean it up," she mumbled. She looked up at him. "I'm sorry. Are you angry?"
"No," Syaoran sighed. "I just wish you'd been more careful. Here." He stepped over the glass, although he wore a pair of indoor slippers that prevented any shards from piercing his feet. He took a hand towel off of the rack and ran the faucet over it before wrapping it around Sakura's injured hand, and then without warning, he scooped her up in his arms.
"Wait," Sakura yelped surprisedly. "What are you doing?"
"You're barefoot, and I don't think you're really in the right state of mind to try to step around near-invisible shards of glass," Syaoran said, his voice tinted with both exasperation and amusement. He carried her over to her bed and sat her down. "Stay put for a moment, okay? Keep that towel on your hand. I'll clean up your bathroom for you."
Sakura stared at him, lids heavy and cheeks tinted red from the alcohol, before nodding vigorously. "Okay."
Syaoran smiled at her and ruffled her hair before turning back to the bathroom. Sakura was hilariously childish when she was this drunk, he realized. He felt like he was watching over an eight-year-old, although it was more amusing than anything else.
Sakura's mind buzzed, short strings of the same thoughts running through her head over and over again. Why was Syaoran here? She couldn't quite remember. It was all very hazy, and all she could think was that her hand was throbbing quite painfully and that he was being so nice to her and that she'd spilled some blood on the dress Tomoyo had lent her. She would have to clean that off tomorrow. Perhaps she'd take it to the dry cleaners. Why was Syaoran here, and why was he being so sweet, Sakura wondered again? That was the main thing.
She struggled to recall the earlier part of the night. She knew he had picked them up, and she knew that there had been some trouble with that man who had followed them around. She shut her eyes, losing track of her thoughts.
Several minutes later, Syaoran stepped out of the bathroom with a plastic bag full of the broken shards of glass. "Your bathroom should be okay now," he said. "Let's take care of your hand."
They went to the kitchen, where Sakura miraculously managed to point him in the direction of the first aid kit. He took her hand and ran warm water over it until the blood began to thin out, and he dried the wound before guiding her over to the sofa and sitting her down. He sat directly in front of her on the coffee table and dug through the first aid kit to find antiseptic and some cotton pads.
"Tell me if this starts to sting too badly, okay?" he said.
Sakura nodded. "I think it's okay, though, it's just a small scratch."
Syaoran snorted as he applied the antiseptic-soaked cotton pad to the wound. "It's hardly just a scratch. You cut yourself pretty deeply. I don't think you'll need stitches, but you're really lucky I didn't end up having to drive you to the hospital for a second time."
Sakura laughed. "Oh, yeah, because of my nose that one time. You always give me a hard time about my nose now."
Syaoran looked at her, and then he shook his head and grinned. "Well, I'm glad you can laugh at it. You really have shed a lot of blood around me when I think about it. Be more careful, would you? And hydrate, or you're going to face the worst hangover of your life tomorrow," he said, pointing to a glass of water he'd set before her on the coffee table.
Sakura obediently took several gulps from the glass before giggling again. "You're so serious all the time, Syaoran."
Syaoran looked up at her to see that she was making a cartoonish face to make fun of him. "And you are a child," he said, but he felt a certain fondness for even this aspect of her as he said it, and he chuckled.
Sakura laughed even more when she saw that he was laughing, too, and Syaoran watched her for a moment as her whole face lit up with her laughter, the glassiness of her eyes making them appear to twinkle. Despite the circumstances, he thought, she looked very pretty; it was the first time he'd ever seen her in party attire, and something was different about her face—perhaps she'd done her makeup differently.
Sakura realized that Syaoran was no longer laughing, but rather watching her silently, and her own smile faded a little as she suddenly became self-conscious. "What—what are you looking at? Do I look funny?"
Syaoran shook his head. "Not funny."
"Then what?" Sakura frowned.
"You look really pretty tonight, Sakura."
She stared at him for a moment, genuinely caught off-guard even through her drunken stupor. The erratic rambling in her head seemed to increase. Did he just call me pretty? I know I'm really drunk, but I think he just said I was pretty. I could have imagined it... But why would I imagine that? I'm pretty sure it happened. Okay, I just need to be cool about this. I don't need to ruin it with something stupid. Especially when I'm so drunk.
"Oh," she mumbled. "Um... Thank you."
Well, that was stupid.
"Of course," Syaoran said, and then he paused before he cleared his throat and began to apply ointment to the wound.
They sat in silence as Syaoran finished dressing the wound and wrapped it carefully in gauze, neatly tying it together. He patted her hand. "Looks like we're done here."
"Thanks, Syaoran!"
"It's nothing," he responded, nodding at her. "Looks like it's getting pretty late... You should get to bed, Sakura. I'll call and check in on you tomorrow."
Sakura shook her head. "I don't feel like sleeping."
"Well, then, what do you feel like doing?"
Sakura patted the seat beside her. "Come sit with me!"
Syaoran lifted a brow. "And do what?"
"I don't know," Sakura said, shrugging with that still-giddy smile on her face. "Let's watch TV or something! Let's hang out."
Syaoran glanced at the clock. It was 3:30 in the morning. He didn't mind staying, though, even if Sakura wasn't quite all there, because of course, even in this state, she somehow had the magical effect of pulling him out of his misery. On top of that, he also got the feeling that Sakura didn't want to be alone. He didn't have work until the later half of the next day... He nodded. He would stay.
"Okay. Just for a little bit," Syaoran said, and he sat beside her on the sofa.
"Okay!" Sakura chirped happily, and she grabbed the remote and turned the TV on to a channel playing some throwaway action-comedy from a decade ago. "Ooh, this is a good one."
Syaoran glanced at the screen and laughed. "You would like this movie."
"What? What's wrong with that?"
"It's nonsense!"
Sakura stuck her tongue out at him. "Well, I think—I think you're an elitist."
Syaoran laughed. "I'm an elitist? Well, okay, if having good taste in film makes me an elitist—"
"Just because you were in movies doesn't mean you have good taste in them."
"Ouch," Syaoran said, his stomach hurting from how much he was laughing now. "Where is all of this aggression coming from?"
Sakura looked over at him and grinned cheekily, eyes twinkling again. "I'm just kidding."
Syaoran smiled back, shaking his head. "I know. Don't worry."
"Thank you for helping me."
"No problem."
They sat in silence as they watched the movie—or, rather, as Sakura watched the movie and Syaoran endured the movie while he watched Sakura.
Syaoran awoke with a start and recognized that he was at Sakura's apartment, the TV blaring silently before him and Sakura's head lolling on his shoulder. He reached into his pocket and squinted at his cell phone, which read five in the morning.
Damn. It got a lot later than I thought. He looked over at Sakura, who had fallen fast asleep and was now leaning on him at what Syaoran thought must not have been a very comfortable angle for her neck.
He shut off the TV before he stood up and carefully scooped her up in his arms, navigating his way down the hall towards her room. The door was still open, and Syaoran carried her towards the bed and just as carefully deposited her onto the mattress. He pulled the sheets out from beneath her and laid them over her. She sank her head deeper into the pillow and turned her head to her side, facing him, although she remained asleep. Kero's collar jangled as he hopped onto the bed, curling up at the foot of the mattress.
Syaoran turned on the lamp on the nightstand to give her some light in case she needed it at some point in the night. He looked around her room for what really felt like the first time—when he'd been in here previously that evening, he had hardly noticed anything, as he'd been far more concerned about the blood and the glass.
Unsurprisingly, her room was very much like her, just like the rest of her apartment, bathed in the same light and comfortably furnished in spite of the small size. It was cluttered but seemed organized somehow; none of the décor, from the sheets on the bed to the curtains hanging off the windows to the style of furniture, matched in particular, but all of it pulled together in some intangible way.
A stuffed bookcase sat in a corner, and a small desk and rolling chair sat in the opposite corner with a large, cluttered bulletin board hanging above it. Jackets and scarves cascaded down a rack that hung off of the open closet door, and a dresser topped with candles and jewelry that Sakura never really seemed to wear was placed beside the closet. In another corner was an ottoman that Syaoran assumed Sakura used as a chair. All of the furniture was reasonable but small; her only real luxury seemed to be the bed on which she slept, which was directly in front of the windows of the room.
And there were photographs everywhere—photographs on her bulletin board, in frames on her desk and on the walls and on her dresser and tucked into the corners of her mirror. Along with the friend he'd met tonight, Tomoyo, he saw three men in many of the pictures and assumed that they must be family. Random people were scattered throughout the rest of the photos, but the four figures seemed to appear quite frequently. He liked that she had a core group of people who were obviously very important to her. He'd found that in his own life, where he was surrounded by dozens of different people every day, it had also been important for him to truly know the few upon whom he could rely no matter what.
He sat on the bed beside her for a moment, staring at her face in the lamplight. She looked contented enough, he thought. She probably did have fun, even if the night out had ended in trouble. He found himself wondering if she'd danced with anyone. Reaching over, he gently brushed some of the hair out of her face.
Sakura's eyes opened slightly, and she squinted at him in the light. "Syaoran?"
"Hey," he said softly. "I was just about to go. Go back to sleep."
"No, no, don't go," Sakura mumbled, tugging at his shirt. "Stay here."
Syaoran realized Sakura was still probably quite drunk. He smiled slightly. "Thanks... But I don't really think that would be a good idea."
"Why not?" she sighed sleepily. She shut her eyes and found his hand with her bandaged one and interlaced their fingers.
Syaoran stared down at their hands in surprise. She was definitely still drunk, he thought. But he couldn't help but think this felt nice. He ran his thumb over her hand, tracing the edges of the bandage.
"Stay," she repeated, her voice half-fading already.
Syaoran gently pulled his hand from hers and reached out to stroke her hair. "I've gotta go, Sakura."
"Aw, okay," she mumbled, too tired and too far gone to argue. Her voice trailed off as she babbled sleepily. "Wish you could stay... Don't wanna be alone."
Syaoran felt a pang in his chest as he looked down at her, and he swallowed. So he had been right. At the end of the day, perhaps Sakura was just as lonely as he was. How could he say no to that?
"Okay, I'll stay," he said.
Sakura opened one eye and smiled at him. "Yay," she said faintly, her voice still heavy with sleep and intoxication.
Syaoran chuckled quietly. "I'm going to go sleep on your couch, okay? I'll be right down the hall."
"No, sleep here."
He paused. "I don't think I should do that."
"Why not." At this point, Sakura was moving her mouth so slightly that her questions came out sounding more like garbled statements.
"I don't think you'll remember asking me to do this tomorrow, Sakura."
"It's 'kay," Sakura mumbled. "We're just sleeping. Sleep here with me."
Syaoran chewed at the inside of his lip for a moment. "Sakura..."
"C'mon."
Syaoran sighed. "Okay. But please don't freak out tomorrow."
"'Kay."
He shrugged off his hoodie and placed it over the back of her chair before climbing into the other side of the bed. For some reason, his heart was racing, and he realized it would be a little while before he himself would be able to fall asleep. Although he had gotten in on the very end of the bed to keep some distance between Sakura and himself, he nearly had to laugh when she immediately sidled over to him and placed her head on his chest just below his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist and completely negating his efforts. She sighed contentedly into his chest.
Whatever inhibitions Sakura had reserved sober were completely gone, Syaoran thought.
Deciding to just let things fall where they would in the morning, Syaoran wrapped an arm around her as well and pulled her in just a little more closely, suddenly relishing in the feeling of having someone beside him. He had forgotten how good it felt to fall asleep in the presence of someone whose very existence soothed him.
"Syaoran," Sakura mumbled sleepily, her voice now barely a whisper.
"Hm."
"Thank you."
Syaoran bent his head down ever so slightly, and before he could think about it, he placed a kiss atop her head, surprising himself; but the surprise quickly dissipated. This was okay, he thought. Somehow, against all he'd ever known, this felt very, very right.
"Good night, Sakura."
Sakura awoke with a long inhalation, and even before her eyes opened, she felt a persistent, painful hammering in her temples. She recognized several things in very slow succession: that she was in her own bed, although she had little recollection of how she'd gotten there; that she was still wearing her dress from last night, a sure sign that she had been far too drunk for her own good; and that she had somehow hurt her hand, which ached dully.
There was something else, though, and she glanced around to figure out what it was. She squinted at the clock, which read ten in the morning. She willed herself to sit up, and then she looked at her hand and realized that someone had bandaged it for her, had carefully wrapped it in gauze and medical tape. She knew that she could not have done that on her own, and she struggled to recall what had happened last night.
She remembered, again, texting Syaoran a tentative hello, running off to dance with Tomoyo, taking countless shots, and ultimately losing her group of friends. She also recalled the man who, as far as she could tell, had been following her around. And she remembered texting Syaoran throughout the night... She reached over for her phone, which was miraculously in its right place on the nightstand, and began going through her text and call records. Seeing the exchanges between Syaoran and herself, she suddenly saw flashes of being pulled away from Tomoyo for a brief moment by the man who had followed her around before running into a car, of Syaoran kneeling in front of her in her bathroom and grabbing her hand, which had been bleeding...
Syaoran had come over here.
"Oh, my God," she muttered under her breath. She prayed that she hadn't done anything too embarrassing. How long had he stayed over? She looked around her room as if it'd give her any indication, and then her eyes landed on a sweater that was not hers sitting on her desk chair. She frowned, finally getting out of bed, still rather unsteady on her feet—she vaguely realized there was probably still alcohol in her system—and walked over to her chair, examining it more closely. Was he still here?
As if on cue, the door to her bedroom opened with a creak, and Sakura whipped around, eyes widening to see Syaoran standing there, a glass of water and a mug of coffee in his hands. She felt a strange mixture of mortification and happiness brewing in her stomach.
So this means... This means he...
"Oh, my God," she found herself whispering again.
Syaoran didn't just come over here. He slept over here.
That's the end of chapter sixteen! I know you guys have been waiting for some fluff between these two for a long time now, so I hope this chapter satisfied! It was a lot of fun to write, really refreshing after all of the angst of the last couple of chapters. Alas, paradise can't come just yet, though, or we wouldn't have much of a story, would we? Cue the maniacal laughter ;D
Interestingly, I had a really tough time thinking out the logistics of these scenes. I rewrote about five times, I think, the scenes where Syaoran comes in and where the night ended up going. In some, Sakura didn't hurt her hand at all; in others, she sobered up a lot more quickly; in others, Syaoran went home without anything even happening! Some of them were too boring and others were too far-fetched. Hopefully, I got it just right after all the different attempts! And I hope it was entertaining as well.
Thank you guys for all of your reviews! The response was overwhelmingly positive and just... overwhelming in general for this chapter! Everyone reviewed so quickly and I think it was the most enthusiastic response I've gotten to a chapter in a while, which really made me happy! And to those of you who have been asking—there will definitely be ExT in this story. Just gotta get them to meet again first. Sorry our lead couple is so slow, otherwise they'd take up less room per chapter, haha.
Anyway, that's all for now, and I'll be working diligently on this next chapter through finals! Wish me luck, and please leave a review! Thanks for reading!
Love,
boreum dal