radio star

xxv. forget

Shock registered quietly in the back of Sakura's mind, even as the softness and warmth of Syaoran's lips and the faint taste of coffee on his breath invaded her senses, dizzying her and scorching whatever logical thoughts tried to make their way to her mind's surface. Her eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, she lost herself in the sweetness of the kiss, whatever questions she had scattering to the far corners of her brain.

But just as quickly as it had happened, Syaoran pulled back, leaving her breathless. Puffs of air clouded the space between them, and Sakura could see, even with the glowing warmth in his eyes, nervousness in the way he watched her.

"Sakura," he breathed, "I..."

"Y-yes?" Sakura's heart pounded so loudly that she could barely hear herself respond. Strands of his hair tickled her forehead.

He was still so close, Sakura thought, so close that she could count every eyelash. And he was breathtaking, and she wanted nothing more than to tug him back down to continue what he'd started.

But instead, Syaoran scrambled to sit up, the warmth of him gone so suddenly that Sakura could have cried out at the loss. She sat up as well, leaning back on her hands. He was still close, shoulder brushing hers—but it was nothing like the seconds prior. The contrast made her feel colder, naked somehow.

"Syaoran... Is everything okay?"

Syaoran ran a hand through his hair, refusing to meet her eyes. "Ah—yeah. I'm fine," he said roughly.

Something like shame, toxic and bitter and sour, mushroomed throughout Sakura's chest as she felt blood and heat rushing to her cheeks and neck. Bewilderment muddled her thoughts, but the voice in the back of her head sounded so certain.

He didn't want this, after all.

But then, why—

He felt bad for you, silly. It was pity that made him do it.

No—that couldn't have been it. She had to know. After feeling his lips on hers and seeing what she had been so afraid to name in his eyes, she had to hear it from him.

"Did you—did you not want this?" she asked, and she hated how feeble she sounded. Her words could very easily have gotten lost in the darkness.

Syaoran turned to look at her slowly, one hand still in his hair and his eyes wide. "What—no, of course not—"

He paused and sighed, a frustrated sound. He shut his eyes for just over a second. When he opened them, they were clear, and he turned the full force of them on her. Although his expression was serious, a hint of exasperated amusement colored his voice. "Sakura. Of course I want this." He shook his head and let out a short, soft laugh. "I haven't wanted anything this badly in a long time."

Somewhere in the fog of her brain, Sakura was aware that her jaw was hanging open.

"But I stopped, because I wasn't sure if you wanted it."

Sakura's eyebrows could have reached her hairline, and thick, potent excitement began to bubble in the pit of her stomach and send a tingle up her spine. She almost laughed. How absurd, she thought—how could he possibly think that she wouldn't want him?

A smile bloomed on her lips. She could only think of one appropriate way to respond.

Syaoran watched her intently, holding his breath, suddenly nervous. Now that he'd said it out loud, the idea that maybe she didn't want him—for very real, very valid reasons—was devastating.

But his worry didn't last long. Sakura took in a deep breath, and slowly, cautiously, as though she were worried she might break some invisible glass wall between them, she leaned in toward him. She brushed her lips against his before quickly pulling back, and Syaoran felt electricity where they touched. He met her eyes, which were nervous and beautiful and suddenly, thankfully, so alive compared to just an hour ago, and he allowed his gaze to wander back down to her lips. He reached up, brushing hair back from her cheek, before he caught her lips in a kiss much fiercer than the last.

Later, he decided. Later, they'd have time for explanations.

Syaoran sat with his knees drawn to his chest, contemplating whether he should suggest going back inside. Beautiful as it was out here, it was also freezing. He scooted closer to Sakura, who laid her head on his shoulder at that same moment.

He looked over at her. "What're you thinking about?"

He'd wondered if he should say something now, address the kiss and everything else that had transpired between them. But it had felt so easy to sit like this, his hand over hers, the both of them perfectly and comfortably silent. Plus, a small part of him was still petrified at the notion of rejection, or that he'd made this out to be far more than it was, particularly in a time where Sakura needed a friend and not a love interest. So he'd chosen to remain silent.

Sakura opened her mouth to speak, then paused, looking down and smiling at her lap. She let out a short laugh. "Do you have to ask?"

Syaoran stared at her, surprised, and then he burst into laughter himself.

"If you have to know," she said, "I'm just wondering how you doubted it."

"Doubted what?"

"That I'd want to kiss you back."

Syaoran felt his heart stutter and stop, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered admiration for how much braver she was than he. He cleared his throat. "A-Am I not allowed to be nervous?"

"Well..." Sakura squirmed. "You are you."

Somehow, this response distressed Syaoran. The last thing he wanted was for Sakura to feel like she was inherently worth less than he was—especially when, nowadays, she was one of the few things keeping him tethered to the ground. "And you're you. Don't underestimate yourself."

Sakura watched him watching her, and even in the darkness, Syaoran could make out the rosiness of her cheeks, the vibrant green in her eyes, the tips of her lashes brushing against her skin when she blinked.

He swallowed, not moving. "You're beautiful, Sakura."

Sakura's answering smile was brilliant.

Syaoran pressed a kiss against her lips. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to discuss what needed to be discussed, after all.

He shifted, rearranging himself so he was facing her, cross-legged, and rested his elbows on his knees. "Truth be told," he said, his voice low, "I was nervous for a lot of reasons."

Sakura tilted her head. "Like what?"

"Well, there are the normal ones," Syaoran started, tone carefully neutral. "Of course, I worried for a minute that you didn't return my feelings, and that I'd basically ambushed you out of my own selfishness at a time where you were really vulnerable and relying on me—" Sakura shook her head here, vehemently— "but there are other things, too.

"I guess it's no secret that I've been worried about you," he continued. He recognized that the facade of neutrality was gone from his voice now, the words coming out with a roughness to them that he couldn't control. "I can't even begin to explain how much I hate to see you going through this. This is not a side of my world I ever wanted to expose you to. It's vicious and unforgiving, and you… You're just so good, Sakura. You're so good, and seeing you being exploited and attacked—it just—" He swallowed and shook his head, and he let his head hang. "It really kills me."

He reached out to take one of Sakura's hands, and he began to play idly with it, running his fingers across delicate knuckles and tracing the lifelines on her palms.

"I've been wondering to myself all day what I could possibly do to make it better, and I've been coming up short because I know what it's like, you know? I know this feeling, that pit in your stomach and the same ridiculous thoughts that just pummel you over and over until you're too tired to keep yourself from believing them. And I know how hard it is for you or anyone else to pull you out of it. So... on the one hand, I'm happy that I'm here with you, and that I could at least see some life in your eyes after tonight. But on the other hand, I don't want you to go through all of this shit, over and over, just because of me."

Sakura was silent, and it took all of Syaoran's willpower to force himself to look up at her. He realized he didn't know what he wanted her to say—that he was right? No, because that would mean they wouldn't be together. That they could make it work? Selfishly, of course that was what he wanted, but he couldn't stand to see her keep suffering, either. When he finally did meet her eyes, her own words from earlier reverberated in his head. He suddenly knew exactly what she'd meant when she'd spoken them.

Please don't look at me like that.

"It—it's okay," Sakura breathed.

"It's okay?" Syaoran's eyes were wide with disbelief. "Sakura, what these photographers and writers—those people who were texting you—none of what they did is okay. And the more you become associated with me, the more you're seen with me—"

"I know," Sakura interrupted. "I know. This sucks. I don't want to go through it anymore, either." Her voice cracked, and horror rose in the base of Syaoran's stomach at seeing her face start to crumple again, but she took in a breath and recomposed herself.

"But I don't want to not see you anymore. I try to imagine it, and... I feel so heavy, I just don't—I can't fathom living like that," she said, brushing tears away from her eyes. "Being shielded and safe and anonymous again, maybe. But all that time, wondering what it could have been like if I could have stayed near you... It makes me feel petrified."

Electricity sparked in Syaoran's chest. He ran both his hands through his hair, stopping at the crown of his head. He hated himself for his gut reaction—hope, because deep down, she'd said exactly what he wanted her to say.

"Syaoran," Sakura's voice broke in quietly. "Whatever this is, don't—don't ignore it. Please. Especially not for my sake."

He swallowed hard, and all it took was one look at the pleading in Sakura's eyes to recognize he would never be able to resist.

"Honestly, I don't think I could even if I wanted to."

"So... You want to see where this goes?" her tone was cautious, but Syaoran could hear how her voice rose in pitch ever so slightly.

He nodded. "Yes. I do."

Sakura regarded him silently for a long moment, before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, all the breath leaving her in one big sigh. "I'm really glad."

Syaoran rested his forehead in the crook of her neck, and he felt the tension leave his shoulders. Happy. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, they were happy. He wanted desperately to preserve this moment in time, these feelings, to draw a shield from the world outside, even if just for a couple of days. But—

No. It would be impossible. Even on the off chance that Meiling supported it, he suspected Matsura would behead him if they pulled it off. But it was too late—as soon as the idea had come to mind, he was sold. He had to try.

He pulled back and felt his lips turn up into a slow grin. Sakura smiled back tentatively, clearly not aware of what they were smiling about. "So," he said, "how do you feel about getting out of here for real?"

"You know, I don't hate the idea." Meiling looked up from her phone, where she'd been typing some notes, and raised an eyebrow at Syaoran. "Your eyes look like they might pop out of their sockets."

Syaoran blinked at her a few times. "I'm just—I'm just surprised. I totally thought you were going to say no."

"I mean, it's risky. And I don't know how Matsura will feel about it. But it's not like we'd have you working on anything right now, anyway, with all the insanity. No point in keeping you trapped here. And no one would ever suspect that you'd be in London, of all places."

Sakura fidgeted beside Syaoran on the couch, and Meiling observed her with a critical eye. She looked considerably better than she had a couple of days prior, when the news had first broken, but the faint dark circles beneath her eyes and the hollowness in her cheeks betrayed the smile she'd worn when Meiling had arrived. Syaoran sat noticeably close to her, his shoulder, hip, and leg touching hers.

"Besides," Meiling added, "it'd be good for Sakura to go somewhere where people would leave her alone for a little bit."

"Oh—I don't—I appreciate that, but I also don't want to get anyone in trouble... Won't Matsura be angry with you both?" Sakura asked suddenly, picking at her fingernails.

Meiling watched Syaoran wordlessly reach over and intertwine his fingers with Sakura's, and she actively had to stop herself from raising her brows.

She recovered and waved a hand dismissively. "Trust me, I can deal with any kind of temper tantrum he throws at us. Syaoran can, too. And it's not like we know for sure he won't be supportive. Like I said, there's no reason he wouldn't be, except maybe that he didn't come up with the plan himself."

Sakura chewed on her lower lip. "I don't know, I—"

"Do you not want to go?" Meiling asked, not unkindly. "No one is going to make you."

Sakura's eyes widened. "No, I do—but I just don't want to be a hassle."

Meiling shook her head. "I'm not going along with all of this to be nice to you. If I thought it was going to be a real problem, I'd be the first to say something." She smiled. "Go. Seriously. Enjoy yourself. I know it's hard to think about anything else right now, but that's the whole point of getting out of here for a bit."

Sakura looked at Syaoran for confirmation, and if it hadn't been clear to Meiling before, it certainly was now: something had changed between the two since she'd last seen them. Syaoran's answering gaze was as full of love and consideration as Meiling had ever seen it. She realized that Sakura probably had no idea how long it had been since Syaoran had looked at anyone like that.

Meiling cleared her throat.

Syaoran broke his gaze, startled, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Right—yeah. It'll be fine."

One of the corners of Meiling's lips quirked up, and she stood up. "Okay, then," she said, locking eyes with Sakura. "Now, we just need a plan of action."

"London!" Tomoyo exclaimed with a dreamy sigh. "That's so exciting! Well, of course, I wish it were under better circumstances that you were going..."

Sakura smiled as she adjusted her shoulder to hold her new phone, which was taking some getting used to, closer to her ear. "I'd thought the same thing. I'm happy to be escaping for a bit, and I've always wanted to go, but... I never thought my first time going would be because of something like this."

"I know. I'm sorry," Tomoyo said softly. "I hate watching you go through this."

"Thanks. But I hope you know you've been making it more bearable," Sakura said, meaning it. Although Syaoran had been the one physically helping Sakura keep her panic at bay the last few days, Tomoyo's constant support over the phone had been like a lifeline to her—a small dot of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic world where Sakura felt completely out of her element.

"You're the only person I know who would be in your situation and trying to console other people," Tomoyo said, and she laughed.

"Well, I feel like I'm causing an awful lot of trouble for everyone around me," Sakura muttered, and then before Tomoyo could respond, she changed the subject. "How's Kero?"

"He's doing great! He misses you."

"I'm sure he's happy to be out of my tiny apartment for a while." Sakura thought of her exuberant dog and felt a pang in her chest—this was the longest she'd gone without seeing him for some time. "Thank you for taking him for me."

"Oh, Sakura. You know it's no trouble. Now, when are you flying?"

"I'm not totally sure. Meiling and Syaoran have both been on the phone all day. I think they're trying to get us out as soon as possible."

"Just as well. The sooner you disappear, the more quickly the media will move on!"

"I hope so," Sakura said, and suddenly, she could hear how tired she sounded.

Tomoyo appeared to have noticed, too. "I know it's hard, but I think you should make the most of it. No point in escaping if you're not really escaping, you know? If you start thinking about it, try to distract yourself. Now that you have a boyfriend, that should be easy enough."

Sakura could hear Tomoyo's smug grin through the phone, and she snorted. "He's not my boyfriend," Sakura whispered, although Syaoran was in the shower and Sakura knew full well that he had no way of hearing her. "We just..."

"Made out and then said you couldn't live without each other?"

Sakura felt her neck and ears burn as a blush crept up her cheeks. "I—well... When you put it that way..."

Tomoyo giggled. Then, in a gentler voice, she asked, "Have you told him how you feel?"

"I mean—kind of?" Sakura responded uncertainly. She paused, trying to figure out a way to explain it so that it sounded like she had, and then sighed in resignation. It was no use; Tomoyo would know. "No," she mumbled.

Tomoyo waited patiently for Sakura to continue.

"I just—it's crazy, isn't it? He kissed me. He told me he wants to see this through, and that he has feelings for me—even if he didn't say what those are. But even still, I..." Sakura chewed on her lower lip. "It just makes me scared. To think I'll take it a step too far, and then he'll realize I'm in too deep, and he'll pull away."

"It is crazy," Tomoyo agreed, and then she let out a light laugh. "I'm kidding. I know it has to be scary, especially because you kind of need him right now. But I think you might find he feels the same way, down to a tee."

"I feel like that'd be easier to believe if it didn't pertain to me," Sakura sighed.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Sakura," Tomoyo warned. "You'll know when it's the right time to tell him. And when it is, don't hold yourself back, okay?"

Sakura pressed a hand to her lips, absently chewing on the nail of her index finger. She wasn't sure how much she believed that—but her friend sounded so certain that it instilled a little hope in her, too. "Okay."

If the two days following the scandal had been a blur, Sakura didn't even know what to call the whirlwind that was this morning. In a matter of mere hours, she'd gone from watching Syaoran pace restlessly around in the hotel to meeting Meiling (who miraculously happened to have a bag stuffed full of Sakura's clothes) in a tiny airport south of the city, ready to leave for a country in which she'd never set foot before.

Now, she stood dazedly, suitcase in one hand and duffel bag on the opposite shoulder, in the middle of an enormous private plane, where a lone flight attendant was busily fluffing pillows along the large leather seats.

She startled as she felt the suitcase being pulled out of her hand, and she turned to see Syaoran lifting the suitcase into an overhead compartment before stuffing his own in it as well. He turned to her and dusted his hands off before grinning.

Sakura bit her lower lip and smiled back. She tried to ignore the rush of nerves that suddenly flooded her insides. It had finally hit her that she and Syaoran were escaping the city, running off to a foreign place as if they were characters in a novel.

"So," she exhaled. "This is how the other half lives."

Syaoran burst into laughter. "This is, uh... pretty ridiculous, isn't it?"

Sakura looked at him with wide, serious eyes and nodded.

Syaoran scowled. "Don't sugarcoat it or anything."

"Sorry," she laughed. "I've just never encountered anything like this in my life. I never thought I would."

"Would it make you feel better if I told you it was the family plane?" Syaoran asked as he propped his backpack onto a nearby end table jutting out from the floor and began to rummage through it.

"Not one bit," Sakura responded, and she eagerly traipsed over to a wide, inviting dual-seat by the window.

Syaoran chuckled as he grabbed a book out of his bag and walked over to sit down next to her. He looked so happy, Sakura thought. There was a light in his eyes that she hadn't ever been able to catch before—different from the embers and flames she usually saw there. She briefly, stupidly entertained the thought of raising her phone to capture the moment before it was gone.

The flight attendant, all smiles, came by to ensure they'd buckled themselves in and promised to return with champagne when they were above ground. The plane began to move slowly forward.

Sakura hadn't been on a plane in years—not since she'd gone with her father to help Touya move in overseas. She thought briefly about reaching for Syaoran's hand before refraining, and then bit back a smile when she felt his fingers brush against her palm before wrapping around her hand entirely. She squeezed when she felt the plane lift off, and after a few mildly nauseating moments, they were in the air.

The flight attendant came back, as promised, with two flutes and a bottle champagne, pouring it for them before disappearing once more. Sakura peered out the window at the gradually disappearing city, sipping slowly at her flute and wondering what her family was up to. Syaoran had offered to change the destination of their trip from England to D.C., but in the end, Sakura had declined. With the media knowing that her brother lived there, it might have been too obvious a destination, she'd said. And to herself, she'd thought that maybe she was running away from her problems a bit—seeing Touya or Yukito or her father trying to mask their obvious concerns might have been too much for her to bear. Now, happy as she was to be going somewhere new with Syaoran where they'd be far less likely to be recognized, she felt ashamed for running.

"How are you feeling?"

Sakura turned away from the window and faced him. "I'm excited!" She realized how fake that sounded, even if it wasn't untrue. The whole truth. Right. She exhaled. "Kind of sad."

Syaoran did not respond immediately, instead contemplating her with soft eyes. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple. "It'll get better. I promise."

The layer of regret in his voice made Sakura's chest ache. She nodded. "I know. Thank you."

Syaoran swirled the champagne around in his flute, watching it with a small frown. Sakura reached over and clinked her glass against his, and he looked at her, startled.

"It's only the first hour of our trip," Sakura said gently. "Not too late to commit to enjoying it."

For a moment, Sakura wondered if she'd said the wrong thing—she could have sworn that Syaoran looked even sadder than before, and she immediately began to scramble for a way to correct the error. But just as quickly as it had come, the look disappeared, replaced by that same infectious grin he'd worn when they first stepped onto the plane.

"You're right. If we're running, we'd better do it correctly." Syaoran raised his glass. "Cheers, Sakura."

Tempted to ask if he was all right, Sakura hesitated—but she knew that lingering and prying into Syaoran's feelings would be doing the exact opposite of what they had just vowed to do. So, she let out a breath, smiled, and raised her glass back. "Cheers."

They both drained their champagne in one go, and the stewardess dutifully came by to refill their flutes as if on cue. Sakura heard herself giggle, already feeling a bit of a headrush from the first glass, and when she caught Syaoran smiling at her as if she were the best thing in the world, she thought to herself that maybe it wouldn't be so hard to forget reality, just for a little while.

Two refills of champagne later, Sakura was positive that she was drunk. She suspected that Syaoran, who was a glass ahead of her, was still quite sober. This seemed unfair.

She glanced around the cabin, which looked even more spacious than when she'd first entered. She knew the stewardess was up near the cockpit, but for all intents and purposes, Sakura thought, she and Syaoran might as well have been all by themselves. "Syaoran," she said, and she frowned when she realized how high-pitched her voice came out.

"Syaoran," she tried again, this time angling for a lower pitch.

Syaoran laughed. "Hm?"

"Are we all alone up here?"

"We are."

"That's kind of scary," Sakura said, a giggle escaping her throat. "Tens of thousands of feet above the rest of the world, and it's just you and me—and, well, I guess the pilot and stewardess—" Sakura stopped when she saw Syaoran's gaze, suddenly serious and hungry.

She sucked in a breath as Syaoran set his glass down on the table before them and angled his body toward hers, leaning in so closely that she could see the flecks of dark brown and gold in his eyes. One corner of his lips tilted upward, and Sakura felt her breath catch.

"That's right," he said, voice low. "But I don't see what's so scary about it."

"W-well," Sakura scrambled, trying to ignore the way her blood seemed to pulse beneath her skin, "maybe n-not—scary—but—"

Syaoran bit back a laugh, and although Sakura knew he was laughing at her, she couldn't help but start to smile, too.

"I, um—what was it—what was I saying?" she mumbled.

Syaoran didn't bother answering. He dipped his head low, and then his lips were on hers, moving with gentle insistence that sent Sakura's heartbeat racing. She shut her eyes, and Syaoran began to kiss her with a sudden sense of urgency, leaving her breathless as his tongue slid over her own and he pressed her back against the wall of the plane. Sakura's hands snaked up over the soft cotton of the shirt on his back to the nape of his neck. Short strands of his hair brushed against her fingers. Syaoran deepened the kiss further still when Sakura pulled him to her, his lips leaving hers and beginning to trail kisses along her jaw, towards her neck. She felt his hands leave her face and travel down to the waist of her jeans, fingers brushing against the small of her back, just beneath her shirt, and she let out a breathy moan—

And then he pulled away, eyes opening slowly as if he were just awakening. Sakura could hear herself breathing heavily, almost gasping, and she stared back at him, her own eyes wide with shock and exhilaration.

"I—sorry," he said, and Sakura realized he was breathing heavily, too. "Got a little carried away there."

Sakura shook her head, suddenly feeling far more sober than she had just ten minutes ago. "I wish you hadn't stopped."

The hungry glint in Syaoran's eyes had not quite left him, and Sakura's stomach flipped over in anticipation when he leaned in a little. She frowned, however, when he didn't move to kiss her again.

"Technically, we're not all alone up here," Syaoran said, tilting his head toward the cockpit and the part of the plane where the stewardess sat, totally unaware of what had been going on behind her.

"Oh," Sakura mumbled, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt. "Right."

Syaoran leaned in and gave her a brief, somewhat dissatisfying kiss, and then, as if nothing had happened between them at all, he straightened up in his chair and reached an arm around Sakura's shoulders to pull her to him. He picked up the book he'd abandoned from the table before them.

"I can't decide whether I'm impressed or offended that you can go back to normal so quickly," Sakura muttered.

Syaoran laughed, and Sakura felt his chest rumble. "You can thank years of living in front of a camera for that," he said, and then he lowered his lips to her ear. "Believe me, I didn't want to stop either. But when we land and we're really alone... all bets are off."

Sakura felt a shiver roll down her spine at the implication of his words. "O-okay."

Outside, the sky was darkening rapidly, morphing from a brilliant hue of pink into a slate blue. Sakura almost—almost—regretted having missed the sunset from this point of view because she and Syaoran had been too busy to notice. She checked her watch and sighed—nine and a half more hours till they landed. It was going to be a long flight.

"I think this is it." Syaoran walked up stone steps to the front door of a handsome red-brick townhouse, set down his and Sakura's bags, and fiddled in the darkness with a set of keys before inserting one into the lock and turning it. The door swung open, and Syaoran flicked on a light, revealing an entryway of dark, polished wood and white marble.

"Huh. Eriol must have had the place redone since the last time I came here." He picked up the bags and walked inside.

Sakura followed behind him, eyes forming circles as she took in the enormous crystal chandelier, the intricate wood paneling and grand staircase, the gleaming floors.

"Does—does Eriol come here often?" Sakura whispered, staring up at the ceiling, which featured elaborate decorative moldings and stood high above their heads.

Syaoran laughed, and his laughter echoed faintly in the hallway as he removed his shoes. "Why are you whispering?"

"Huh?" Sakura straightened up, cheeks reddening. She slipped off her own boots and shuffled from one foot to the other. "Sorry, it's just so—I almost feel like I'm interrupting something walking in here."

"Well, rest assured, you're interrupting nothing. To answer your question, Eriol hasn't been here in over a year. He has a caretaker come in and keep the place clean every week, though."

Sakura shook her head. "Why bother keeping such a nice home if you never come to visit?"

"Because Eriol grew up in a family that likes to keep up appearances."

Sakura raised an eyebrow at Syaoran. "I'm sorry, whose private plane did we just fly here on?"

Syaoran laughed. "Okay, good point. Both of our families like to keep up appearances. We can at least recognize the insanity of it all. It might be part of why we get along so well."

Sakura sucked in her cheeks, head turning every which way to take in all the rich details of the interior. "Well, I'm definitely starting to see the value in having a good getaway. Eriol really pulls no punches."

Syaoran smiled. "I don't disagree. Feel free to look around and make yourself at home. I'm going to go put our bags up in one of the bedrooms upstairs, okay?"

Sakura nodded, and Syaoran made his way up the staircase and into the guest bedroom. The king-sized bed, piled high with comforters and throws, looked incredibly inviting after the long flight, but Syaoran knew that if he even sat down on the bed, he'd fall asleep and leave Sakura to fend for herself. As much as he appreciated the distraction that this trip had provided, he had no desire to leave her alone with her thoughts for too long.

Rolling his shoulders and neck, Syaoran walked back downstairs, wondering if they should eat or just go straight to sleep—it was only ten in the evening in London, but it was early morning in Tokyo, and neither of them had slept very much on the plane.

"Sakura?" he called, wandering into the foyer. He looked left and saw her in the living room, staring curiously at the fireplace.

Syaoran walked up and stood beside her. "Hey, you hungry? I could whip us something up to eat, or call for delivery, or we could just go to bed—" He paused as he caught her expression, filled with longing as she looked into the hearth, and pressed his lips together to avoid laughing. "Or, I could get a fire going?"

Sakura looked up at him. "Really?" she squeaked.

"Are you a pyro?" Syaoran said, crouching down to find the panel beside the fireplace that would turn it on. "Who gets excited over a fire?"

"It just looks so cozy," Sakura said, and she glanced outside one of the large windows, where cars zoomed by on the streets below. "And it's so chilly outside. It's perfect."

Syaoran twisted a knob, and the flames roared to life. He stood back and grinned. "I guess it is pretty cozy."

Sakura sat down on the rug and patted the spot next to her. Syaoran sat down beside her cross-legged and leaned forward, turning his face towards hers, covertly (he hoped, anyway) searching for any signs of distress. He was satisfied to find that at worst, she looked tired, which didn't surprise him—in what little time he'd caught her sleeping on the flight, she had certainly not looked like she was sleeping very peacefully.

"What's up?" Sakura said, her voice quiet again. She tilted her head. "You okay?"

Syaoran snorted. "I'm sitting here trying to figure out if you're okay."

Sakura nodded. "I'm fine." She shrugged. "Jet-lagged."

Syaoran pursed his lips. Her voice had caught just at the end, just barely. He wondered if she'd regretted coming here instead of going to her family, but he didn't press it.

She nudged his shoulder with her own. "Thank you for bringing me here," she whispered. "I feel like I can breathe a little bit now, being so far away."

Syaoran could hear the sincerity in her words, and he felt the tension in him uncoil just a bit. He knew there was only so much he could do, and he was glad that it was at least having some effect.

He nudged her shoulder back. "Anytime. You say the word, and I can get my family's obnoxious private jet to take us anywhere in a heartbeat."

Sakura threw her head back and laughed. "Is that a promise?"

Syaoran grinned. "It's a promise."

"This bed is a masterpiece."

There was no other word to describe it. The large mahogany sleigh bed housed a mattress topped so high with pads and comforters that it came up to Sakura's waist. A thick, light grey down comforter sat atop crisp white sheets, and even after Syaoran had unceremoniously swept numerous throw pillows off of the bed, there were so many remaining that Sakura had no idea where she was supposed to lay her head.

Sakura pulled back the comforter and sheets and allowed herself to fall onto the mattress face-first before clambering in all the way. She sighed blissfully as the sheets puffed up around her. "Can I take this mattress home with me, since Eriol never uses it?"

Syaoran climbed in beside her. "I'll take it up with him, although we'd need to figure out a way to get it to the airport even if he said yes."

"Anything. I'll do anything." The sheer force of exhaustion that hit Sakura as soon as she'd lay down was met immediately by the relief and pleasure of lying in what felt like an actual cloud.

Syaoran chuckled and turned to his side so he could face her. "You really are pleased by the simple things in life. Like a three hundred fifty-thousand yen mattress."

Sakura whipped her head towards him. "Three hundred—three hundred fifty-thousand?" She moved to sit up. "Should we be sleeping on this?"

"Don't be ridiculous, lie back down. Eriol doesn't come here, remember? Think about it more like, we can't let it go to waste."

Sakura settled back in, pressing her lips together for a moment. "I drool when I sleep sometimes," she whispered. "Especially when I'm really tired. Now I'm kind of nervous. What if I drool on the mattress?"

Syaoran scooted closer to her so that their noses were almost touching. Sakura tried to memorize the exact way his eyes crinkled into the bright, beaming grin on his lips.

"I think it'll be okay," Syaoran whispered back. He moved his head a little more and kissed her. "Now, quit worrying and get some rest. We have a whole lot of exploring to do tomorrow."

Sakura's eyes lit up, even as her lids began to droop closed of their own accord. "That sounds fun," she murmured.

"It will be." Syaoran pressed his lips to her forehead.

Sakura felt herself slipping away. In the haze, she processed that Syaoran was whispering something to her—but she was strangely certain that he didn't really intend for her to hear it, anyway. And with that, she fell asleep.

Five Things We Know About Syaoran Li's Mystery Woman

As most of you probably already know, Syaoran Li was caught in another bombshell of a scandal when it was revealed that he has been seeing Sakura Kinomoto, a relative nobody who had a brief stint as a paparazzo for Glimmer Magazine. The two quickly disappeared from the public eye after the revelation, but the Internet knows how to dig! Here's what we've found out about Kinomoto so far—

Syaoran frowned into his mug of coffee as he exited out of the article and placed his phone face-down on the breakfast table. He knew Meiling was already keeping track of these things, but he made a mental note to email this article to her later.

"Good morning."

Syaoran looked toward the hallway entrance, where Sakura stood in those comically adorable teddy bear-patterned pajamas, sleep still tugging her eyes half-shut.

"Hey. Would you like some coffee?" He got up and made his way toward the coffeemaker before she could respond.

Sakura plodded over to the counter, taking the stool beside the one in which he'd been sitting. Syaoran handed her a mug and sat back down.

"How do you keep managing to wake up before me?" Sakura said, a yawn distorting the last few words of her sentence. "And sleep later than me, too. I feel like a sloth compared to you."

Syaoran laughed. "I don't think it's always like this. You've had a pretty weird last few days."

Sakura seemed to weigh this, and then she tilted her head from one side to the other before shrugging and taking a sip out of the mug. "What are we doing today?"

Syaoran observed her over the rim of his mug as he took a sip of his own coffee. She was in evasion mode again, whether she realized it or not—but it was also eight in the morning, and the vow they'd made on the plane to enjoy this trip if it killed them was not lost on him.

He set down his mug. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "there are two ways we could go about this: we could be tourists and work our way through all the landmark stops, or I could show you my favorite places in the city, which might not be as exciting."

Sakura's response was immediate and certain. "I want to see your favorite places."

Syaoran grinned. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

Immediately, he regretted making the awkward statement, but Sakura seemed not to notice as she jumped off her stool, suddenly energized. "Well, then, let's go!"

Syaoran quirked an eyebrow. "In those clothes?"

Sakura glanced down at her pajamas. "Oh," she said dumbly. "I guess I could afford to change first."

Sakura's neck hurt from looking up for so long, but she couldn't help it. St. Paul's Cathedral was unspeakably beautiful, and Sakura felt like if she looked down or at eye level, she'd miss something, silly as that was.

She squinted against the light that streamed in through the windows, trying to make out the paintings on the impossibly high dome that soared above her head. It felt like, as soon as she'd set foot into the church, it had actually stolen her breath away; she had never been in such a beautiful building in her life. If Syaoran had intended to distract her from her troubles, she thought, he had succeeded marvelously. The paparazzi and the news stories felt like a distant memory when she was standing in such a magnificent space.

Despite her initial gusto, the morning had started out slowly: suddenly acutely aware of how tired and gaunt she looked, Sakura had spent far more time while getting ready than she'd anticipated, trying to look like her old self. (In the end, with a little color on her cheeks and layers of sweaters, scarves, and an overcoat, she felt like she'd done a passable job.)

Syaoran had led them to a small, nondescript but bustling teashop several blocks from Eriol's house, explaining on the walk that it had been a favorite haunt of his and Eriol's since they were young boys. At hearing that, Sakura had tried to imagine having the resources to visit another country in another continent so frequently that she developed favorite spots there. It seemed impossible.

Although the teashop had been packed, no one had seemed to take notice of them, which had come as a welcome relief to Sakura. She suspected that the lack of recognition was part of the allure of a place like this for Syaoran as well. In their little corner of the shop, just the two of them sitting across a tiny table from each other and recounting silly stories and tidbits of their pasts and laughing more in those few hours than Sakura could remember laughing in the last week, she'd felt more like herself than she had in a long time—and she'd also felt so very in love, to the point where it had caused a constant, rhythmic ache in her chest.

When Sakura and Syaoran had nearly drained their teapot and only crumbs remained of the blueberry scones they'd purchased, Syaoran had said abruptly, "Literature or architecture?" The question had been confusing in its suddenness, but Sakura had been torn trying to answer it all the same, finally asking sheepishly, "Do I have to choose?"

Syaoran had grinned at her with boyish excitement. "Not necessarily," he'd responded, and as he'd whisked her to the cathedral, Sakura had wondered how much of this he'd planned in advance, how much thought he'd put into this very impromptu trip to pull out all the stops for her. It felt like a lot more than he was letting on, she'd thought to herself.

His statement from the morning had not gone unnoticed by her; her heart had almost leapt out of her mouth when he'd said, with so much enthusiasm and so little shame, "I knew I liked you for a reason." But she hadn't known how to react, and like an idiot, she'd ignored it entirely. And now...

You'll know when it's the right time, Tomoyo had said. But how?

"Have you decided on your favorite part of the building yet?" Syaoran said softly into her ear, suddenly behind her.

Sakura nearly jumped. Syaoran had wandered, leaving her to explore on her own—something she'd appreciated, as the architecture had felt like so much to take in initially, and she'd wanted to process it in silence.

"Oh, I don't know, it's all so beautiful," Sakura said, eyes tilting skyward again. "Probably the dome," and then she reconsidered. "Maybe the apse."

She glanced over at him as he stepped up beside her and looked up as well. "What about you?"

"I like the dome a lot, too," Syaoran said, his voice hushed. Although no service was in session, Sakura understood why—the grandiosity of it all seemed to demand silence, reverence. "But I think I decided last time I was here that the arches around it are my favorite."

Sakura's eyes moved to the arches that surrounded the dome on all sides, lit from underneath and marked by intricately carved coffers that glowed gold in the light. For a moment, she wished she could reach high enough to run her fingers over the carvings. "They're pretty," she said. She smiled to herself. "Not the grandest part of the church by a mile."

Syaoran laughed. "No, they're not. But I've always had an affinity for these types of arches. Not sure why." He shrugged.

For some reason, Sakura found it endearing that he didn't name the grandest parts of the building as his favorite.

"Ready to move on?" Syaoran whispered.

The thought of having to leave this place filled Sakura with dread, but it was quickly placated by the idea of whatever Syaoran had in store next. "Literature," he'd said.

She nodded. "Let's go."

"Are you trying to impress me with all your inside knowledge of London's beautiful places?"

"That depends. Is it working?"

Sakura crossed her arms and tried to maintain an expression of neutrality, but she failed before she'd really even tried. She burst into a grin. "Yes. Absolutely."

Syaoran exhaled a laugh, and Sakura was certain he was mentally patting himself on the back. Really, she couldn't fault him for it. If she'd shown him something this breathtaking, she would also want a little credit for it as well.

Like the cathedral, the library was a glorious, almost holy space—four floors of gorgeous, ancient architecture wrapped in mahogany, brass, and marble. Each floor above Sakura's head was not a complete floor, but rather a hollowed-out rectangle that spanned the perimeter of the building and had a continuous balcony overlooking the first level. Books old and new lined every wall, stuffed in every possible nook and cranny. Most of the ceiling was comprised of an enormous skylight that cast the hazy glow of the afternoon sun onto the grey-veined marble floors.

Incredibly, the place was not especially occupied; Syaoran had explained to her on the way in that the library, which had looked so unassuming from the outside, was a well-kept secret that he'd only discovered by exploring the less-exposed streets of London in his teenage years. Aside from the beauty of its interior, it was a noteworthy library because of the sizable collection of books in various languages—Japanese included—that it housed. Sakura wondered how, in the age of the internet, the place had not been exposed by a popular blogger or a celebrity social media account; but then again, she thought, she had managed to go the last six years without ever paying attention Syaoran Li until she'd been assigned to cover him as a paparazzo.

Sakura tried not to be overwhelmed by the sheer number of books that had to be in the building. "Can I—do we have time to read?"

"Of course," Syaoran said, as if she'd asked the most ridiculous question in the world. "Nowhere to go from here till dinner, unless you want to leave."

Sakura shook her head vigorously. She was already transfixed by the thought of what she could find in these old, secret shelves.

"Meet you at a reading table down here in thirty?"

Sakura nodded and made her way to the second floor, which, per the directory, was the fiction section. She took a moment to breathe in the scent of the building—old books and leather spines and wood polish. She walked the perimeter of the floor, perusing carefully until she found the Japanese language books, which took up several bookcases, selecting books and then putting some back and then picking out others. The challenge of picking out what to read—or skim, really—in the span of thirty minutes made her stomach flutter in excitement.

In the end, she barely managed to make her way downstairs in one piece, as she'd selected far too many—twelve books in total. She half-expected Syaoran to laugh at her, but then, as she reached the first floor, she saw him sitting at a corner table beside a tall stack of books of his own (presumably nonfiction, as she'd seen him wandering towards that section).

Syaoran glanced up at her as she set the books down and pulled back a chair across the table from him, which scraped noisily against the floor and echoed in the quiet of the library. He gave her a small, secretive smile, which made her feel like it was just the two of them in that building, or even in the entire city. Sakura smiled back at him, and wordlessly, she sat and pulled the first book from her pile.

They sat like this for the next few hours in companionable silence, getting up only to go to the restroom or put a book away. Sakura shuffled through four or five books until she found one that pulled her in so much that by the time she looked up again, the light filtering in through the skylight was a deep orange.

"Oh," she whispered, surprised.

Syaoran looked up from his own book, and he, too, looked surprised by the passage of time. He raised his eyebrows and looked over at her. "Hungry yet?"

Sakura's stomach grumbled loudly, doing all the talking for her. He grinned and tossed his phone over to her. Sakura caught it clumsily, feeling it nearly slip out of her hands before she got a firm grip on it.

"I pulled up a list of places we could go earlier today online. Why don't you take a look and see what appeals most to you?" He stood up and stretched. "I'll be back—I'm going to go put these books away."

After Syaoran had gathered his books and hers, piling them all into an impressive stack, and walked off, Sakura unlocked Syaoran's phone and pulled open the browser. She was so hungry, she realized, that she had no idea or preference as to what she wanted to eat. She peered down at the phone, and her stomach did an unpleasantly familiar flip.

On the screen before her, instead of a list of restaurants, a different kind of list had loaded onto the browser.

Five Things We Know About Syaoran Li's Mystery Woman

Sakura immediately felt her palms begin to sweat and the desire to retch gnaw away at her stomach, as if it had never been dormant in the first place. She knew, objectively, that she should close out of the window, tell Syaoran that she hadn't seen the list and that he must have not had it pulled up. She knew that she should stop reading.

But in the time it took her to acknowledge these things, she'd already scrolled down, eyes skimming rapidly over the numbered items. The first four, much to her relief, were relatively innocuous pieces of information that had already been released when the story had first broken—where she'd worked, who her family was. But the fifth item sent alarm horns blaring in her head, and just like that, Sakura felt all the air leave her lungs as suddenly and as painfully as if someone had kicked her in the stomach.

Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no—

Above the numbered item was a photo of her brother and Yukito, which the website had presumably procured from one of Yukito's social media accounts—Touya refrained from engaging in those types of things, but Yukito was quite active. And below the photo, the text read in bold font: "5. Her Brother Has Been in a Long-Term Relationship with Partner Yukito Tsukishiro for the Last Four Years," and below that, some inane blabber about Touya and Yukito and their happy, healthy relationship, written by a stranger who had never met or spoken to her brother.

Although Touya's sexuality and his relationship with Yukito were not secrets among those close to him, Sakura knew how private they were. It was already killing them to be exposed even to the degree that they had been in the immediate hours following the news being broken—but this—the thought of the same people who had sent her those text messages saying hateful things to Touya and Yukito made her want to vomit.

Sakura pressed a fist to her forehead and shut her eyes as revulsion and self-hatred engulfed her. If she had never been so careless—if she had never been so involved—and now, she was here in London, vacationing of all things while her family had hidden themselves away to avoid public scrutiny for something in which they had never asked to become involved.

Stupid, you're so stupid and so selfish, what have you done to deserve any of the good things in your life when you're absolute trash—

"Sakura?" Syaoran's voice was just above a whisper, the concern in it obvious. "What—"

She felt the phone being pulled gently from her hand, and then heard a deep sigh.

Syaoran knelt down before her so that he was eye-level with her and pulled her other hand from her face. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I saw that this morning, and I—I should've closed out of it. I wasn't thinking."

Sakura shook her head. "It's okay," she said, and her own voice came out strangely choked. "Not your fault."

He studied her for a moment, and she let him, gaze falling to his hands on hers as his eyes scanned her face—for what, she wasn't sure. She glanced up and saw him nod to himself.

"How about we go back to Eriol's and order in tonight?"

Sakura had forgotten about her hunger entirely and didn't expect it to come back anytime soon. She nodded. "Okay."

Sakura sat with her back against the hard mahogany headboard, head on her knees and her body curled into a tight ball. She could hear her heart thumping slowly, loudly, sounding like the ebbing and flowing of a tidal wave, in her ears. Everything had been going so well. It had been such a wonderful day.

But of course, it was not reality. It was only natural she'd get a reminder of that. She just felt horrible that when this realization had come crashing down on her and sent her into a total freefall, she'd had to drag Syaoran right along with her.

She felt the mattress sink beside her as Syaoran sat down. He placed a hand between her shoulders. "Were you able to get a hold of your brother?"

Sakura nodded, not looking up. "He said it's okay, and that I shouldn't worry about them right now." She scoffed. "Of course he said that."

Sakura felt the hesitation in the air before Syaoran spoke again. "Do you want to—do you want to talk about it?"

She should, she thought. It would have been good for her and for him. It would help her process this situation, its effects on her; it would help her come to understand that it would take some time before this whole thing went away. It would make her look less like a lunatic to Syaoran.

But she didn't want to. She was tired of talking about it, of thinking about it, of dreaming about it. She didn't want to make any more pitiful, pathetic revelations of how sad and frightened she was and how awful she felt. It was exhausting, and it made her feel like her whole life had been reduced to just that—how she was sad, pathetic, scared, guilty.

She finally lifted her head and turned to meet his gaze. "I don't know."

Sakura drew in a breath, and then she realized that she was shuddering. She blinked, startled—tears had formed in the corners of her eyes. Registering the physical manifestation of all those terrible things she felt made her feel that much worse—stupider, embarrassed to be seen this way, even after Syaoran had witnessed her cry so many times in the last few days. Or perhaps she was embarrassed because he'd seen her in this state so many times already.

"I hate this," Sakura said, and it came out hoarse, cracked. She'd wanted it to sound fierce and angry. The contrast made the tears come faster.

Syaoran let out a soft exhale and scooped her into his arms, where Sakura let herself fall apart again, hating herself all the while.

Syaoran took extra care not to squeeze his arms around Sakura's shaking, huddled form too hard. It was a difficult task, because his organs felt like they were being crushed in some viselike grip that grew tighter each time Sakura let out a muffled sob, and in response, he wanted to tighten his arms.

He knew from experience how long this roller coaster would go on for. Sakura was such an easy target for the media—associated with someone who was currently at a monumental level of fame, quite easy to lie about as a relative unknown, and best of all, totally expendable, since she was a nobody. It would go on for some time, until some new, bigger story mercifully came along and distracted the public. It broke his heart, and it infuriated him that he couldn't seem to do anything to help.

Sakura quieted, and after a few long seconds of quiet where she remained curled against his chest, she looked up at Syaoran, trying and failing horribly at laughing off the moment, as he'd come to expect her to do by now. She wanted so badly to be brave, he thought, and that broke his heart, too. She was brave.

"Sakura..." Syaoran's voice came out hoarse.

"I-I'm sorry," Sakura stammered, pulling back some and swiping hurriedly at her eyes. "I keep doing this, and it's so—"

Without thinking, Syaoran reached out and grabbed the hand that she was using to wipe her tears, and he leaned forward and kissed her, just at the area where the hollow of her eye and her cheekbone met. His lips came away wet with her tears. Sakura stilled.

"I don't want you to be sorry anymore," Syaoran murmured. He kissed the other cheek. He allowed his head to fall so that his forehead was between her neck and shoulder.

"I hate that I can't fix this for you, Sakura," he whispered, anguish tinging his voice. "I want to fix it. At the very least... I want to help you forget."

He pressed his lips to the crook of her neck, and he repeated the words. "I want to help you forget." He dipped his head lower and kissed her collarbone.

Syaoran felt Sakura shudder, and he looked up at her, wondering if she had started to cry again—but instead, he met dazed green eyes, void of tears, although glassy, and quite unfocused. He swallowed.

Sakura's words came out in a breathless whisper. "Then, Syaoran... Help me forget."

It was reckless, for sure. Most certainly not the most practical or sensible solution to this problem or even the proper way to end this conversation. But it didn't matter. A flame roared to life inside Syaoran's body. He shifted so that he was straddling her, one leg on either side of hers and her back pinned against the headboard, and then he kissed her like he might never come up for air.

Hi, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I can't lie—after all the angst of the last few chapters, I enjoyed writing the fluff immensely, and I hope you found it as enjoyable to read as I did to write it! Much thanks to the general girl/swingsdown on tumblr for pitching in on giving me ideas and constantly reading my work and giving me feedback! This would not have gotten done without her.

I struggled a bit with whether to end the chapter on a sad note or a happy note, so I settled for something in between. I know the last two chapters were basically Sakura breaking down, so I wanted to put the focus on something else for a while. But I also thought it was important to make it apparent that this wasn't going to go away soon, and that while companionship like Syaoran's definitely helps, it will not solve all the problems she's facing.

Thank you to all of you for your reviews on the last chapter and the messages you've been sending me in between! I know I started working on fics for other fandoms in between chapters here, but fear not—I love this story, and I'm fully planning on finishing it! Please continue to leave reviews and message me as you read, and happy new year!

Love,

boreum dal