radio star

xx. need you

Syaoran rested against his seat, one elbow propped up onto the windowsill of the car door and his chin resting in his hand. The familiar route to his condo passed by in a blur, lights of the cityscape molding together in continuous illuminated lines. He glanced at his watch, which read 2:30 a.m., and noted absently that Meiling and Eriol were probably still at the ball, as the party would undoubtedly last until at least five in the morning. His eyes stung with sleepiness as he leaned his head back. Suddenly, he was exhausted.

The teary, broken expression on Mizuki's face was etched into his mind's eye. He felt absolute certainty that he had done the right thing—but that feeling was buried under layers of regret and a strange, potent heartache. When Mizuki had first ended their relationship, Syaoran had briefly entertained the fantasy of hurting her as badly as she had hurt him. Now that he had managed to do so, he felt miserable.

"Master Li."

"Hm?" Syaoran opened his eyes, not realizing he had even closed them.

Wei glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "Excuse me if it's not my place to ask, but I was wondering if everything is all right."

"Oh," Syaoran murmured. He thought about lying, but Wei had known him since he was just a child; Syaoran wasn't sure if he could get away with lying to him. "Not really," he answered quietly, but his mouth formed a crooked smile. "Thanks, though."

"I know it's been a strange year for you, Master Li. Might I suggest a visit home sometime, perhaps? It might do you good to see your mother."

Syaoran laughed in spite of himself. "You're suggesting I run home to my mother?"

Wei smiled. "It isn't the shameful matter you make it out to be. Even old men run home to their mothers every once in a while, if they can."

"It's not a half-bad idea," Syaoran muttered. He did miss Hong Kong. He hadn't seen his family in over a year, between dealing with his scandals and his schedule. "Maybe soon."

Wei nodded.

Syaoran glanced at his phone, which was brimming with messages from people he had seen tonight at the party. It was nice, he thought, to feel connected to his colleagues once again—he hadn't realized how lonely his industry isolation had been until he had been forced into socializing again during his promotional rounds. But somehow, after all that had happened tonight, even with all of the people he'd seen, he felt a vast, profound hollowness inside of his chest.

Frowning, he stared again at the time on his phone. He wished it weren't so late. In all likelihood, Sakura was asleep.

Pursing his lips, he decided he could at least send her a text message.

I hope your night went well. Sorry we didn't talk tonight.

Syaoran deleted the message before he could send it, sighing frustratedly. That sounded stupid. And really, he thought, was it right of him to go running to Sakura because he was sad about his ex-girlfriend? Somehow, that sounded childish—more angsty teenager than grown man—to him.

But just as he was about to put his phone back into his pocket, he felt it vibrate in his hand, and he looked down at it to see that he had, much to his surprise, a new message from Sakura Kinomoto.

I meant to text you earlier to say I hoped you were having a good time, but I fell asleep! Just woke up for a second for some reason and thought I'd say it now.

Syaoran felt the slightest lift of the weight in his chest. A corner of his lips tilted up. Thanks, he texted back. And then, as an afterthought, he sent another: Go back to bed.

Only seconds later, he received a response. Pfft. What are you doing texting me? Quit being anti-social! Get off of your phone and go party. Tomoyo is around there somewhere. You should find her.

He chuckled. I'm not at the party anymore. I left.

Eh? Sakura responded. Why? Tomoyo said it'd probably go until the morning...

I was feeling a bit strange, Syaoran wrote back. He frowned, knowing he was being irritatingly vague, but at least it wasn't a lie.

Everything okay? Sakura asked.

Syaoran sighed. He really did wish he could see her. He couldn't even begin to explain why. It went beyond feeling normal. He wanted to feel more than normal—he wanted to feel not alone.

I'm fine, he tapped out. Go to sleep, Sakura. It's late.

For minutes, Sakura did not respond, and Syaoran wondered if he'd come off a bit harsh in his words. He stared at his phone, mulling over the idea of texting her again and apologizing, when the screen lit up and Sakura's name came up on the screen. What was she doing, calling him? He slid his thumb across the screen and held the phone to his ear.

"You know, most normal people go right back to sleep if they've woken up in the middle of the night," Syaoran said into the phone.

"Hey," Sakura's voice came through the speaker, soft from sleep and concern.

Almost instantly, he felt deep, painful relief—like someone had given him an oxygen mask just as he was about to suffocate.

"Hi," he said.

"Are you all right?"

"I told you I was fine," Syaoran responded in spite of the sudden rush he felt, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window.

Sakura was quiet for a moment, and Syaoran wondered if she was still there when she finally said, "You sound sad."

His brow furrowed. Did he, really? "I'm tired," he answered quietly.

"Hm," Sakura answered, and Syaoran couldn't tell if she had bought it. Still, much to his relief, she chose to pursue normal conversation. "How was the party, then?"

"It was good. I saw a lot of people. I saw Tomoyo."

"Oh!" Sakura said, her voice rising in delight. "Did you, really? How was that?"

"She's weirdly cheerful," Syaoran admitted.

Sakura laughed. "Yeah, that would be Tomoyo."

"She got along really well with my friend."

"Oh, really? Who?"

"Eriol."

There was a pause. "Eriol? Hiiragizawa?"

Syaoran chuckled. "The one and only."

"No way. You're lying."

"Why would I lie about that?"

"Oh, my God," Sakura murmured to herself. "Oh, my God! I wish it were tomorrow already so I could call her!"

Syaoran smiled to himself. He didn't understand how, but this nonsensical as this conversation was, it dulled the aching in his chest considerably.

Sakura sighed into the phone. "So, what are you going to do now, then, if you've left the party?"

Syaoran snorted. "It's almost three in the morning. I'll probably go to sleep. Speaking of which, you should—"

"If I haven't gotten off the phone yet, what makes you think I'll listen to you now?" Sakura chided playfully. She paused, and when she spoke again, her tone was more somber. "Syaoran."

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you're all right? Maybe it's because I just woke up, but you sound so worn down."

Syaoran didn't know how to answer that. He had every right to tell her that he wasn't up to talking about it, but that was also a lie. For some reason, he wanted nothing more than to go to her tiny apartment and sit cross-legged on her couch and tell her about his night, Mizuki and all, over a cup of tea.

He let out an exhale that resembled something of a laugh. "Nothing escapes you, does it? Some stuff happened tonight. And... I feel kind of..." He paused uncomfortably, looking out the window. He really wasn't used to being so honest in regard to his feelings with anyone, save perhaps for Mizuki. "I feel kind of empty." He swallowed.

He felt great relief when Sakura made no pitying remarks—not that he had particularly expected them from her. Nor did she ask what had happened, which he appreciated, strangely enough.

"Hm... You know, when I feel that way, sometimes it just helps to be around someone. I wonder if it'd be the same for you?" Sakura mused softly.

"Yeah," Syaoran admitted.

"Well, I'm sure you've got plenty of people you can call, but in case you don't... I know it's late, but you're—" Sakura hesitated for a moment, but the unspoken words were already out in the open. "You're welcome to come here. I could make you some tea. We could talk about it. Or not talk about it. Whatever you want."

Syaoran smiled. Somehow, he was not surprised that she had practically read his mind. "There's no chance I can convince you to go back to bed now, is there?"

Sakura giggled. "Probably not. Not until I know you're okay, anyway."

Syaoran sighed and stared out the window, pursing his lips. They were close to his condo now. "Okay. Give me twenty minutes."

Tomoyo smiled into Eriol's shoulder as her feet moved in time with his. After a deluge of fast party music, the DJ had finally opted to play an old slow song, and Eriol had asked her to dance. Much to her surprise, he had admitted sheepishly that he wasn't a very good dancer—for some reason, Tomoyo had thought he seemed like the type who would have taken a swing or waltz class or two growing up—but she had said they could just sway from side to side if he'd like. "Like high school," she had said with a laugh.

Now that she had a moment to think, she reflected on how nice tonight had been. It was like something out of a dream, meeting so many people she had idolized and admired, everyone in incredibly high spirits as the music played and the champagne flowed. The designer in her also appreciated the lovely aesthetics of the night, as everyone wore gowns with gorgeous silhouettes and colors and material, and the venue itself appeared to have been modeled after the overt finery of Versailles.

And of course, there was the company; although Tomoyo would not have minded spending the evening observing on her own, she enjoyed Eriol's continuous presence. On top of his appealing surface qualities, he was a truly kind person, she thought. Earlier in the night, he had introduced her to his actual date, Meiling, who had smiled and insisted, much to Tomoyo's amusement and Eriol's apparent exasperation, that they had only come as friends. Meiling appeared to be quite intoxicated, and although Eriol had stayed around Tomoyo all night, he excused himself frequently to go check on Meiling and make sure she was okay. "She's Syaoran's manager and cousin, and if anything happens to her, he'll probably behead me," Eriol had explained, but Tomoyo had watched with a smile as he hovered protectively around Meiling. She was fairly certain that his behavior came more from a caring nature than a sense of obligation.

He also seemed to be fairly popular among the industry despite his attitude towards the society, Tomoyo noticed; all night, people—movie stars, singers, comedians, designers, media gurus—had come up to greet Eriol and make conversation, all approaching him when he hadn't even done so much as to bat an eye at them. And yet, somehow, he didn't appear to have a big head at all. Tomoyo wondered if this was because of the responsibility he bore as the Vice President of such a big publishing company at a young age; it certainly seemed like enough to ground someone.

And so, although Tomoyo would never think of herself as the kind of person who would jump the gun on many matters, especially not love or relationships, she did think it safe to say that she was, at the very least, charmed by Eriol. Even the cheesy part of him that should have been off-puttingly charming was just...charming.

"So, have you had fun tonight?" Tomoyo felt Eriol's voice rumbling in his chest.

"Mmhm," Tomoyo responded. She pulled back to look at his face. "Even more than I thought I would, which is really saying something."

Eriol smiled. "Good. I'm glad. Sorry if I hijacked your evening."

Tomoyo laughed and shook her head. "You didn't. It was really nice, getting to know you. You're... different from what I imagined someone like you would be."

Eriol raised a brow. "Someone like me?"

Tomoyo shrugged, one corner of her lips still tilting up in a self-aware smile. "You know. Not normal, in the good way. Above average in most respects," she laughed.

Eriol shook his head, smile stretched wide across his face. "That's funny. I wouldn't say I'm above average in many respects at all." He pulled her back into his shoulder, swaying to the music. "You, on the other hand..."

Tomoyo laughed. "Very smooth, Eriol." But as she felt him laugh along, she buried her face into his shoulder to hide the blush that crept up her cheeks.

Sakura rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she stood over her stove, the heat of the boiling water rising up and curling pleasantly around her face in tendrils. She frowned as she recalled her conversation with Syaoran. While he hadn't sounded upset, he hadn't sounded well. His voice had been laced with exhaustion and, Sakura thought, perhaps some kind of resignation. She wondered what had happened at the party to make him that way. Perhaps he had had a bad run-in with the media—or maybe he had seen Mizuki Akizawa and things had not ended well for them.

Although she felt an undeniable curiosity over what had occurred between Syaoran and Mizuki in his studio several weeks ago, Sakura never asked, feeling that it was not within her rights. She only knew that that that night, he had texted her, and the next night, he had spent the night at her apartment. He had not once mentioned Mizuki in that time or since. But Sakura had thought that occasionally during their phone conversations over the next two weeks, he'd sounded exhausted beyond just physical tiredness, although not to the extent that he had tonight.

The teapot whistled, and Sakura absently reached over to the dial to turn down the heat. While some parts of Syaoran were still such a mystery to her, she wondered if his feelings regarding Mizuki were similar to those she'd once held for Isamu. His expression when she had walked into the studio had certainly indicated something like that.

If that was the case, Sakura felt that she didn't need an explanation to understand that part of him. If that was the case, she thought, she knew at least an inkling of the kind of pain he was going through, and it hurt her to think he was experiencing such a thing. He felt empty, he'd said. She knew that feeling, of the desperation that followed in trying to fill that inexplicable void with anything. Often, that desperation only led to filling it with anxiety and self-doubt. She did not want Syaoran to face that kind of trial, particularly on top of his other issues. That she had such strong feelings for him—love for him, as she had realized only a week ago—only amplified how desperately she wanted him not to hurt.

Sakura heard a soft knock on her door, bringing her out of her thoughts. Despite the somber context of the evening, she felt her heart pound wildly—foolishly—at the thought of seeing him—the first time she'd see him since listening to his radio interview.

For some reason, she wasn't quite sure what to expect, and so when she headed to her front door and turned the knob, she felt the air leave her lungs as she met his eyes—so soft that they seemed almost blurred around the edges and so very vulnerable.

"Syaoran," she breathed.

"Hey," he said quietly, and despite the pained expression in his eyes, he glanced over her for a moment and smirked. "Nice getup."

Sakura looked down at her clothes, realizing she'd forgotten how to change out of her pajamas—a large t-shirt with a cartoon teddy bear pattern on it and pastel boxer shorts—and blushed. Still, she felt a small relief that he still had it in him to joke, no matter what had happened to him. "Not fair," she pouted. "This was all very sudden, you know, and I didn't have time to change."

He chuckled, and the aching appeared to leave him a bit. "I'm kidding. Could I come in?"

"Oh—right, yeah," Sakura responded hurriedly. She led him into the living room and sat him down before running back into the kitchen to grab the tea.

"So," she said, sitting down on the seat beside him and angling her body towards him, one leg folded up on the seat and the other hanging down off of the couch. She searched his eyes as her heartbeat managed to resume a normal pace. Her feelings weren't all that different, she realized; she had simply been able to put a name on them. Everything else was still the same, much to her relief.

"I'm sorry for waking you," Syaoran murmured, staring down into his cup.

"You didn't, though," Sakura reminded him. "I'm the one who woke up and texted you."

"Ah. Right." He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. He raised his eyes and lifted the corners of his lips. "Then, thanks for letting me come over here at—" he glanced at the clock— "three in the morning."

Sakura felt the breath leave her at his smile, but she played it off with a shrug. "It's becoming something of a routine, isn't it?"

He chuckled. "I guess it is. So long as it doesn't bother you..."

"Don't be silly. You know I like the company."

"Good, then." He pulled his legs up onto the seat, crossing them, before turning towards her, almost mirroring her pose.

"You came straight from the party?" Sakura asked, tilting her head to the side. Syaoran was still dressed in remnants of his formalwear—slim black dress slacks, a white shirt without a tie, the collar undone and the sleeves rolled up. His hair looked mussed out of what appeared to have been a gelled-back style. And yet, somehow, she thought, he still looked good.

"Yeah. I stopped by home for a moment so I could get my car—Wei, my driver, picked me up from the party."

"You didn't drink?" Sakura's eyes lit up in amusement. "Tomoyo has been texting me all night about how wonderful the champagne fountain is."

Syaoran laughed. "No champagne, actually. Just a glass of whiskey earlier in the night, but I'm sober. I didn't feel very up to it. I'm actually pretty bad at drinking," he admitted.

"Well, don't feel bad. You saw that I'm not the best at holding my liquor, either."

"Yeah, you were something else when you were drunk." Syaoran shook his head and grinned to himself.

"What?" Sakura frowned. "You never did go into detail about what I did that night. Was it that embarrassing?"

"No, not really," Syaoran said with a laugh. "You were just really... childlike. It was pretty funny."

Sakura pursed her lips dubiously. "Well, if you say so."

They were quiet for a moment, both sipping their tea and Sakura wondering what exactly she should say, before Syaoran spoke again, voice halting slightly.

"You know... That night, I had been hoping being around you would get my mind off of a few things. It's a good thing you're so accident-prone, because it worked."

"You wanted to get your mind off of stuff?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of stuff?"

Syaoran hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "Mizuki and I got into a bit of a fight that day."

"Ah," Sakura responded, a frown on her lips. Her brows turned up in concern. "Did you make up?"

"Mm..." Syaoran pressed his lips together into a thin line. "Not really. I saw her tonight, too, you see... She was being hounded by paparazzi, and I just felt so angry, and I pulled her out of there and got my driver to take her home. So... We had some time to talk."

Sakura wondered what exactly she was feeling. The expression on Syaoran's face, lips turned slightly down, eyes soft and downcast, brow furrowed, looked so suddenly heartbreaking that she would have given anything—even if it meant him saying that he and Mizuki had indeed made up and decided to get back together—to make it disappear. A strange mixture of pain and hope brewed in her heart.

"And..." Syaoran wrapped his hands around his mug, holding it in the space between his crossed legs. "Well, last time, she told me she still loved me."

Sakura's eyes widened in shock. She had expected Syaoran to pine, naturally, but for some reason, it surprised her that Mizuki had been the one to break. His eyes flickered up to meet hers. She nodded, waiting for him to go on.

"And this time... She told me she was sorry." He bit the inside of his lower lip and pulled at it slightly with his teeth, a nervous tic that Sakura thought uncharacteristic of him. "So... That should have been enough, right?"

Sakura felt her heart sinking. The wind was knocked out of her all over again for the wrong reasons, but numbly, she nodded. If that was what he wanted— "Right," she breathed.

Really, she thought, shutting her eyes, I just want him to be so, so happy.

"And somehow, it wasn't," Syaoran said softly.

Sakura opened her eyes and watched him in wonder, shocked all over again. Her body felt hot and cold all at once. She swallowed. "Why not?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. He looked at her, warm orange-brown eyes suddenly tender as they searched hers. "I... Somehow, I don't feel like it would ever be the same."

Sakura did not avert her gaze. Briefly, she placed herself in Syaoran's shoes—if Isamu had come to her and told her that he was sorry for breaking her heart, that he wanted to try again, what would she do? She felt herself examining every detail of Syaoran's eyes, memorizing the warmth and the light and the color in them. They really were beautiful, she thought.

By this point, she knew what she'd tell Isamu. It's too late. I'm changed forever. I'm not the same girl. And... I love someone else.

Even if he doesn't feel the same way about me.

Sakura nodded. "That makes sense."

"Does it?" Syaoran let out a soft chuckle, just a few exhales accompanied by a small smile. "That's good. Because I feel like I'm insane."

"I don't—I don't think you're insane."

"Thanks, Sakura," he said. His eyes fell to his glass again.

Sakura leaned over on her hands, unaware of her own movement. "Syaoran... Are you okay?"

Syaoran shook his head, eyes still lowered. "I don't think so," he responded, smiling ruefully.

"You're sad," Sakura noted quietly, green eyes large as she watched him.

"A little," he whispered. "I don't even know why. I think I really hurt her. I feel like a terrible person. And now... Now I'm telling you about it like an idiot, keeping you up—"

He paused, words leaving him when he felt Sakura's fingers, cool and soft, running along his cheek. He swallowed hard, relishing the tingling they left behind, and met bright green eyes.

"Sakura?" he whispered, unsure of how to react.

"I wish you weren't sad," she murmured. "I wish I could make it better."

Syaoran held his breath. They were so close, he thought, and Sakura looked beautiful. He could see her eyes searching his face, passing over his eyes and down to his lips, lingering for a moment before going back up to his eyes. Syaoran had to stop himself from saying out loud that she could, in fact, make it much better. He had no idea what kind of state of mind he was in, and this was a vulnerable moment. Perhaps it wasn't the right time.

So instead, he leaned forward, and he hesitated only for a moment before laying his head in the crook of her neck, shutting his eyes and inhaling the scent of her—pleasant, floral, almost dreamy. He felt her stiffen for a moment in surprise, but he smiled slightly when he felt her relax and rest her cheek against his head.

Oh my God oh my God oh my God.

Sakura felt her heart drumming at an unbearably quick pace. She felt like she was so high up that falling at this point would kill her—exhilarating and terrifying all at once. The whole room suddenly seemed to move around her, and so she shut her eyes as well and focused on the feeling of Syaoran's breaths coming in and out against her collarbone.

They stayed like this for some time, so still and so quiet and so content that neither wanted to pull away and disturb the peace—but Syaoran knew that it had to end sometime, and so he finally lifted his head with a soft exhale, and Sakura pulled back dazedly as well.

"Uh... Sorry about that," he said quietly. "I just..."

Sakura shook her head. "No, it's okay. You just needed someone."

Syaoran nodded. He wanted to tell her that she had been better than just someone, but this line between them was so blurry lately that he didn't know what crossed it and what didn't. He held his tongue.

But Sakura was the one to cross the line they had drawn. She knew it was bold, but perhaps because she so desperately wanted to get rid of the hurt in Syaoran's eyes, she didn't care. "Syaoran... Stay here tonight."

His eyebrows rose up in surprise, but he didn't say no. "Sakura—"

"I mean," Sakura said quickly, softly, looking away from him, "if you go home, you'd be all alone, right? And you... I just don't want you to be so sad. I don't want you to feel like you're in this by yourself. And you don't have to, of course. But... If you don't want to feel alone," she said, bringing her eyes up to his once more, "just...stay here."

Syaoran weighed this in his head. After ending it completely with Mizuki tonight, he knew it was probably best to go home and reflect. He knew it was probably not in his best interest to stay the night at the apartment of another girl, particularly one towards whom he felt an undeniable attraction. But Sakura was right. He felt so very alone. And everyone else who could have made for good company was still at the ball... He envisioned going home and rolling around in his own bed restlessly, unable to sleep until the sun arose and pure exhaustion finally claimed him. It seemed terrible.

He let out a soft exhale. "Okay."

Sakura smiled at him and nodded, and for some reason, he suddenly felt weak with relief. He hadn't realized that he even wanted this until she had suggested it.

"You can take my bed," Sakura said, glancing over at the clock. "I'll go get some extra blankets—"

Syaoran grabbed her wrist before she could get up and walk away. "Don't be absurd. It's your house. I'll take the couch."

"Yeah, but you're a guest."

Both of them paused as their eyes settled on each other. The question remained unspoken, but it was certainly there—

"If... If you don't mind," Sakura murmured, looking down at her feet, "we... I mean... you—"

"Both of us. In your bed, right?" Syaoran asked, voice cautious. It was strange; while he was no stranger to sleeping with other women, it seemed different with Sakura—like he wanted to be extra careful, as though he could break something between them if he weren't.

Sakura nodded. "Just to sleep," she added hastily. "But... That way..." she shrugged. "We could chat, you know. Until you fall asleep."

Syaoran nodded, a soft smile on his lips. "Yeah. That would be nice."

Tomoyo sat alone on the side of the ballroom, watching Eriol chat with Meiling. Although her night had been more wonderful than she could have dreamed, she was exhausted from all the dancing and the socializing and the drinking so late into the night. A quick glance at her phone told her that it was almost four in the morning. Wryly, she mused that she could never be a famous person if it meant staying out so late all the time.

"Tomoyo!"

Tomoyo looked up from her phone to see one of her co-workers, Riko, walking towards her before sitting down beside her.

"Hi, Riko," Tomoyo said with a smile. Riko was close to Tomoyo's age and relatively new in the fashion industry, and so the two had formed a bond from the first day of work. "Enjoying the party?"

"Oh, my God, yes," Riko grinned. "I've never been to anything like this in my life!"

"Me, either."

"Really? You sure are a natural, though. Twenty minutes in and you got a guy on your arm for the rest of the night!" Riko said slyly, casting a glance over to Eriol.

Tomoyo bit her lip, but she laughed through it. "We've met before."

"Really? Who is he? He's so good-looking!"

"Well, he's the vice president of Hiiragizawa Publications," Tomoyo replied, "but he was a guest when I interviewed for my job."

"Oooh. Well, did you give him your number?"

Tomoyo shook her head. "He hasn't asked."

"Tomoyo!" Riko scoffed. "I thought you were a forward type."

"Only when the situation calls for it," Tomoyo laughed. "I feel like I should just let this play out naturally, for some reason. I don't want it to feel...forced."

Riko shrugged. "Whatever you say. We're leaving in ten minutes, so go tell your man goodbye! And leave an impression."

Tomoyo laughed and swatted at Riko on the arm before standing up and walking over to Eriol.

"Ah—Eriol, I hate to interrupt, but I think I have to go in a few minutes," Tomoyo murmured to him from behind.

Eriol turned around. His eyebrows rose up in surprise. "So soon?"

Tomoyo laughed. "It's four in the morning!"

Eriol pursed his lips a moment, pausing to think to himself. "Tell you what—if you can wait a few minutes, I could probably take you home."

Tomoyo gaped. "Really? But—I mean, I have a ride—"

"Really," Eriol responded, eyes kind. "I don't know about you, but I just don't feel like saying goodbye yet."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Tomoyo smiled. "Okay. Let me go tell my co-workers."

Sakura lay on her stomach, arms tucked underneath her chest as she listened to the low, pleasant timbre of Syaoran's voice and felt it vibrate through the mattress onto the cheek that she pressed to her bed. She wondered if she would ever be able to sleep tonight, because a strange, excited ache brewed in the pit of her stomach, leaving her feeling wide awake.

This all felt strangely normal to her—staring into warm, deep eyes that stared back into her own, listening to him talk about his childhood and his life before fame, his friendship with Eriol, even about how he met Mizuki, as he lay in her bed, also on his stomach, head cradled in his arms. His face was mere inches away from hers, but their bodies did not touch; although she had no idea what she had done when she had been intoxicated, she didn't dare reach out to him now. The entire evening had seemed so very fragile, and she felt a slight terror that if she reached out too far, she would shatter everything.

"What are you thinking?" Syaoran asked after a long moment of quiet.

"Mm... Just that it's weird, but this all just feels very normal to me, for some reason," Sakura murmured back, a smile on her lips.

"What, this? Us sleeping together?"

Sakura nodded.

"Well... It is the third time," Syaoran said, amusement tinting his voice. "Even if you hardly remember the first two."

Sakura giggled. "That might explain it. Are you feeling a little better, now?"

He nodded. "Thanks for letting me stay here."

"Thank you for staying," Sakura responded, voice soft. "Really."

He turned onto his side, facing her, and Sakura realized suddenly just how close he was. If she scooted any closer, they wouldn't have had to do much more than move their heads to kiss. Quickly, she banished the thought from her mind. He kept his eyes trained on hers, hardly even blinking, and Sakura found herself unnerved.

"What?" she murmured.

The smile had not quite yet died down from his face. "I don't know. You know... I felt so tired when I got here, and now it's..." He lifted his head slightly to look at the clock on Sakura's nightstand. "Almost five in the morning, and I don't know if I can sleep."

Sakura smiled. "Me, too."

A shadow appeared to pass over his eyes. "But I'll probably be needing to head out early, maybe in a couple of hours, even."

"Why?"

"There were paparazzi everywhere when I grabbed Mizuki," Syaoran explained quietly, eyes focusing on a blank spot on the wall. "It's going to be a big story. I'll have to meet with my label CEO and probably Meiling, too."

Sakura bit her lip. "Will you be all right?"

"Sure," he murmured, and his eyes turned back to hers now.

"Syaoran..." Sakura swallowed, and then she scooted herself slightly closer to him, and heart beating wildly, she held a hand out to touch his face. Hesitantly, she skimmed a knuckle over his cheekbone and felt a rush of relief when he did not flinch away, but rather closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. "It's okay to need people, you know. I'm not... I know I'm not the most useful person around in these situations, but if you—if you ever feel this way, you're always welcome—"

Syaoran's hand suddenly reached up to grab Sakura's, causing her to let out a surprised "oh." He smiled at her, although the shadow had not quite left his eyes.

"You really underestimate yourself, Sakura. I wouldn't say that you're not useful." He took her hand and pressed his lips against them in a soft kiss. His voice was low, but she was so close to him that she could hear him quite clearly. "I would say that I do need you."

Sakura's eyes widened and her breath hitched, and she had to force herself to remember to breathe. Of all the things she had thought might happen when she had proposed that he stay the night here, she had not expected this. Although in her wildest hopes, she had envisioned affection and intimacy between them, she had shut out the thought entirely because she had thought it impossible—but now, he had done something so sweet that it caused a physical pang in her stomach. His words reverberated in her head over and over, and in her daze, she forgot to try to memorize the feel of her hand in his.

Smiling, he let go of her hand and let out a sigh. "Maybe we really should sleep for a couple of hours. You, especially. No need for you to be awake at this hour."

Sakura nodded, still speechless, but she knew for certain that she would not fall asleep anytime soon.

"Thank you, Sakura," he said, eyes burning into hers once more for a fraction of a second before he turned out the light.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was still weak and Sakura had finally fallen into a fitful slumber, she found herself half-waking as Syaoran pulled her into his chest, warm arms cradling her and breath soft and steady against her hair. And in her tired, delirious state, she felt no surprise or shock—just a slow rush of something pleasant coursing its way through her head and her heart, and the vague thought that this was nice, that this felt very, very natural.

When she awoke several hours later, she saw an imprint where Syaoran had lay earlier and a note on the pillow. Groggily, she reached over to grab it and s quinted at it, heart sinking as she read the two single sentences on it. She didn't know what she'd expected, but somehow, she was left feeling perhaps just as empty as Syaoran had felt the night before.

Matsura called, so I had to head out. Thanks for everything.

But when she turned the note over, she saw that he'd written one more line, and she felt a smile tug at her lips, disappointment buoying back up into hope.

Don't forget what I told you last night, okay?

"PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE HELL YOU WERE THINKING LAST NIGHT."

"Matsura, please keep it down," Meiling moaned, rubbing at her temples. "It is far too early and I am far too hungover for shouting."

Syaoran leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he kept his head bowed, eyes trained on the floor. He said nothing, but he felt particularly sorry for Meiling. Having to wake up at eight in the morning after partying until five to come deal with his problems could not have been fun for her.

Matsura appeared not to have heard Meiling, because his voice only seemed to grow louder. "You're not going to answer me?" he shouted. "I put all of my faith in you for this comeback, and you go and pull this kind of bullshit, and you're not even going to bother giving me a simple fucking explanation as to what drove you to willingly screw everything up last night?!"

"Matsura..." Meiling said softly, brows furrowed. "Come on, don't you think you're being a little harsh? I mean—"

"And you," Matsura growled, turning towards Meiling. "What exactly were you doing last night? Aren't you his manager? Where were you if you weren't doing your job?"

"Hey," Syaoran called out, glowering now. "Leave Meiling out of this. It was her night off—"

"Oh, so now you're going to talk," Matsura shouted. "Syaoran, what has gotten into you?!"

Syaoran pushed himself off of the wall and moved towards Matsura, eyes narrowed, hands curled into fists, until he came face-to-face with the man. He was about half a head taller than his boss, a man who understood him so well that they rarely ever fought. And as he felt the rage build up in his chest at the irony of not being understood right now, when he needed it the most, he let it all out in a long sigh. He shook his head. "I don't know," he muttered. "I don't know what's gotten into me."

Matsura caught the defeat in Syaoran's eyes, in the lines on his face that seemed to have been there for far too long, particularly for someone so young and talented and good, and felt his anger ebb away as well. "Syaoran... Look, I know you were trying to do the right thing, okay?"

Syaoran shoved his hands in his pockets and raised his eyes to Matsura's face.

Matsura reached behind him to a stack of pictures on his desk and handed them to Syaoran. "But this is the kind of stuff that could really, really ruin your career. For good. If it were a one time thing, it'd be all right, but you don't get any more strikes."

Syaoran groaned in frustration as he looked at the photos, predictably loud and sensational images of him squinting against the flashbulbs as he led a distressed Mizuki by the hand towards the street. "Why should it, though? This has nothing to do with my career!"

"Look, we all know that," Matsura said gently. "But it is the path you chose... And you knew the consequences that would come with it."

Syaoran nodded. "I know."

Matsura glanced back at Meiling. He let out a sigh. "Syaoran, before you got here, Meiling and I were discussing what exactly we needed to do to rehabilitate your public image. This... This kind of thing will cause a lot of damage, I think. And it won't be easy to fix it if the paparazzi are hounding you all the time, which they will be, especially now."

Syaoran felt dread rise up to the pit of his stomach as he realized what Matsura was saying. He swallowed hard, hoping he was wrong, but somehow, he knew he wasn't... He turned to meet Meiling, who was staring at him with teary eyes now.

"So," Matsura continued, voice suddenly very tired, "we decided it'd probably be best to push back the album for a little while and send you overseas for a few months, to New York. We're going to tell the press it's for special vocal training."

Syaoran felt the breath leave him in one great woosh. He knew it had been coming, and yet, somehow, he still felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. But he couldn't fight it. He knew better. He nodded. "When?"

"As soon as possible," Matsura answered. "So we've booked you a flight for tomorrow. You'll need to go home and pack your things tonight."

That's the end of chapter twenty! I'm sorry about the terrible cliffhanger, but I've planned it out this way for a while now. School starts tomorrow, so I am not sure how frequently I can update, but I really am always thinking about this story, so I'm going to do my absolute best to write in my free time! I have a rough idea of what will happen from here, though, so that should help a bit! (Hint: it is going to be a bit chaotic, but all the good stuff happens in the chaos, right?)

Thank you guys for your reviews on the last chapter—they really were so nice, and much to my delight, so many of you reviewed! I was really thrilled! I really can't thank you enough. Every chapter I write, I am always kind of flabbergasted at how many of you enjoy the story. It makes me so happy.

I had a tough time writing the scenes between Syaoran and Sakura, even though I loved writing them. Although Syaoran hasn't had a lot of time to think about it, he's quite obviously falling for her and also very, very vulnerable right now at the same time, so I felt like he'd be more inclined than usual to be affectionate towards her. I hope this hit the right balance—not too little, not too much. But I did want some really sweet scenes between them, and I know you guys did, too, so I hope this delivered! And as for Eriol and Tomoyo, I think they'll be my "smooth sailing" couple, since things are looking pretty tough for Sakura and Syaoran now. Someone's gotta be happy, right? Haha.

Please let me know what you think in a review, and thank you so much for reading!

Love,

boreum dal