Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction ❯ Slave for a Week ❯ Day 5 (Part 1): His Warmth ( Chapter 7 )

DAY 5 (Part 1)

His Warmth

 

Friday, 2:05AM

 

 

(cough, cough)

 

Damnation.

 

I rolled to my side in annoyance. This stupid itch in my throat's KILLING me— (sniiiiff) —and now my nose is running at top-speed as if it's in a freaking 100-meter sprint contest. Just why the hell didn't I take that stupid flu shot when I had the chance?

 

Oh, I know.

 

Because 1) I was too stingy, since I've always known that you've got to get flu shots once every year anyways, due to the fact that Influenza B viruses mutate rapidly and different strains constantly emerge (ugh, proves that I've somehow been awake in Microbiology class), 2) I've always done fine without the help of one (couldn't even remember when I last came down with a fever), and 3) I didn't plan on doing something crazy any time soon (like standing like a deranged mental patient amidst the pouring rain—after finishing more than a fourth of that bottle of wine).

 

How should I know that I'm that weak, that vulnerable, that just after the standing-like-a-deranged-mental-patient-amidst-the-pouring-rain-after-finis hing-more-than-a-fourth-of-that-bottle-of-wine incident, I'd unluckily catch the flu virus? Out of all those people walking outside the building, why ME? Is this great timing, or just pure bad luck?

 

I am such a HUGE idiot. A stupid, stupid, stupid id— (wheeeeeze) —oh, God, my head hurts. As if Satan himself is amusing himself by endlessly poking my temples with that fork-like thingy of his. What did I do to deserve this?

 

“Sakura?” There was a soft whisper just beside my ear. The concerned voice was then followed by a pair of warm lips softly placing a light, lingering kiss on my cheek. A shiver ran down my spine. Suddenly, my toes began to tingle.

 

Syaoran.

 

Major blush.

 

Good heavens. I've just realized that within only a night, I somehow developed this embarrassing habit of blushing like a more-than-ripe tomato whenever he gets too close. Unfortunately, it's getting harder to control. And, much more unfortunately, the times that he won't get too close are now frighteningly close to zero.

 

I threw out another untimely loud sneeze. “Nodasleeb,” I mumbled, sniffling.

 

A soft snicker. “You haven't actually slept a wink all night, have you?” Syaoran's voice sounded obviously amused.

 

Major MAJOR blush.

 

I quickly rolled onto my stomach, buried my face against the pillows, and shut my eyes even tighter, wishing that he wouldn't notice the heat that was—I could very well feel—quickly spreading all over my face. But I seriously couldn't help it. This whole blushing thing is seriously involuntary. All of a sudden, like a preteen crushing on somebody, I'd been blushing around him like there's no tomorrow.

 

So blame the Spawn of Satan, the reincarnation of the devil, Li Syaoran.

 

I felt him sit up and slip his hand in between the pillows and my forehead. After a short while, he began to caress the length of my back, perfectly easing away all of the annoying coughing that started just again.

 

“You're even hotter.”

 

Never mind that last comment, which would, if taken out of context, for sure be making me blush even more. Really, I feel worse than ever. But while he was doing that, rubbing my back and all, it felt just like heaven, amidst this sleepless, godforsaken hell.

 

I don't know—even though I wanted to sleep, something has been stopping me from doing so. Maybe it's the unending, hammering pain in my temples or the freezing coldness of the night… or the alcohol overdose that I had intentionally coupled with the freezing rainwater overdose. Or perhaps all of those stated above, but I'm not too sure.

 

…Or maybe it's because I hate it when it's too dark in the night, especially when it's so silent that I feel like I'm all alone. It was then that I had first woken up earlier, tightly tucked within the warm comforters of an equally-warm bed and a cold folded towel on top of my forehead, that the darkness-phobia returned. The whole room had been almost pitch-black, so silently dark that the silly childish fear came crashing back. But what doubled my fear was a sudden revelation: I was lying in a bed. Inside the pitch-black room of someone I don't know. With a very bad cold that rendered me helpless. Double shock!

 

But before I could scream or jump up in fear, I realized another thing: there was a hand holding mine. And the owner of the hand was sitting on floor beside the bed, sleeping, his face buried against the bed. I didn't have to guess who it was. I was surprised, though, that he had followed me out of the building after all, and that he was the one who carried me back to his room. I didn't know what to feel. I still don't. But what I'm sure of is that although my childish fear of darkness still made me feel a bit alert and very un-sleepy, there was some kind of relief that made me feel calmer because of how his hand held mine. And it felt good.

 

…Or maybe it's just that I've always hated coming down with fevers. They only make me feel cold one second and nauseatingly hot and sweaty within another, going on and on until I couldn't bring myself to snooze for even thirty seconds anymore. Since then that I first opened my eyes, although I felt tired and almost sleepy, I've only been in and out of sleep because of this uneasy feeling that's washing all over me.

 

All the rest of the night, I would only close my eyes and listen to the hard rain still pouring angrily and endlessly outside the windows. Or sometimes I would watch him while he sleeps, how he breathes in and out so lightly, his face looking so gentle like a child's. And when he would suddenly wake up to check on me, I'd hurriedly close my eyes again, pretend to be asleep, and pray that he doesn't see me making a fool out of myself while staring at him.

 

Fine, so he noticed that I was awake all along. Now I'm doomed. But I just couldn't help it. I couldn't help but think how it can be possible that there would come a time when he'd get to my nerves and I'd want nothing but to kill him and there would come another when I'd feel at ease being with him. Is that even logical?

 

“It's time for your medicine…” another of Syaoran's spine-tingling whispers interrupted and seemed to calm all the confusing thoughts that had been raging through my mind.

 

I groaned, not only because I found that my joints and muscles ache real badly as I tried to stretch my body, but also because this only means that I have to open my eyes and see him and make a fool out of myself again for turning beet-red.

 

“What time is it?” I asked in another weak murmur, still trying to hide my face against the pillow.

 

“Only a little past two.”

 

Kami-sama, it's already past midnight. I already feel guilty of troubling him so much like this and not letting him sleep peacefully without me bothering him all night. I feel like a miserable child who can't take care of a simple fever by herself, who still needs to be watched by her parents the whole night. Imagine how that hurt my pride.

 

But I couldn't help it. The thought of him having to wake up every now and then just to check on me to make sure that I take my medicine on time every four hours, or that the cloth on my forehead is still cold, or just to see that I'm tightly tucked within the blankets pains me even more. And yet, I don't exactly know why.

 

“You don't have to do this, you know,” I mumbled.

 

“Hmm,” his voice sounded like he was trying to tease me, “Of course I don't have to, considering that you're supposed to be my slave in the first place…”

 

I tried my best to snort half-rudely.

 

“…but then again,” he continued, “since we did call a temporary truce, I suppose I'll just have to get back at you for all of this later.” I heard him pick up the pitcher from the side table, and then fill a glass with water. “For now, I'll have to take care of the sick little kid.”

 

“I'll be fine tomorrow, you dummy—” (wheeeze) “—and I'm not a little kid!”

 

I tried to lift my arm to throw him a punch, but all that my fist did was to poke him. Even my arm wouldn't obey my cerebral cortex's orders now.

 

An amused laugh. “You say that, but you don't even have the strength to throw your usual punch.”

 

“Sheesh, it's just a little flu.”

 

And a very BAD headache. Why did I ever drink that stupid scotch, anyway? Stupid Sakura. Stupid, stupid Sakura.

 

“Your flu being `just a little' doesn't keep me from worrying about you.”

 

I frowned. “Why do you even worry so much?”

 

He said nothing. There was this kind of awkward silence that made me half-expect him to say `Because I care about you'… and I don't know why. It took me no time to realize what I've just thought, and I quickly wanted to kick myself for thinking such ridiculous things. Maybe it's just the sudden feeling of wanting to be important to someone. Or maybe it's just the fever. Honestly, I don't really know.

 

“Don't argue with me now, okay?” he said instead, obviously avoiding the question. “You'll feel all right after this. Just do what I say and then you'll be fine tomorrow.”

 

“Syaoraaaaan…”

 

Oh no, that whine didn't come from me, did it? I must've sounded like a lost, helpless kitten. I must've sounded too annoying. Maybe he'd get so pissed off that he would leave me to take care of myself. Maybe he'd give up trying to help me and think that it would be much better if he'd spent his night with one of his beautiful girlfriends instead of being a nanny to helpless old me…

 

I rolled back to my side, turning my back to him. “Couldn't I just sleep? I'll be fine tomorrow, I promise—”

 

I felt a soft hand brushing stray strands of my bangs onto the sides of my face, tucking them behind my ear. “Sakura, trust me.”

 

His voice was so soft and gentle as he said my name, so much that I almost felt myself being filled with a kind of relief. It was as if he'd read my thoughts and thus wanted to reassure me that he isn't going anywhere.

 

I still couldn't bring myself to believe that this is the rich playboy I've known. Everything of him has just different since yesterday—his voice, his smile, his eyes… Somehow, the thought that the one sitting beside me is the real, gentler side of him came into mind.

 

Somehow, he's the same as Touya. Onii-chan always makes it a point to make fun of me every single day, but he changes into a totally different person when he's taking care of me when I'm sick. Although Syaoran's probably just a bit older than me, he reminds me of my older brother—the poker-faced person who is incredibly good at hiding what he really thinks and feels.

 

“Now open your eyes, Sakura-chi…”

 

I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my lips at the familiar endearment. But I couldn't help thinking that maybe I wasn't the only one. Maybe he always uses it to call his girlfriends, his sisters, Meixin, or practically any object of his care, from family cat Ling-Ling (Ling-Ling-chi???) up. How would I know?

 

I opened my eyes, only with the motivation of seeing his amber ones—those eyes that have always managed to mesmerize me, no matter what I do to avoid them. My heart was pounding wildly against my chest. In my mind, I thought that if I could finally see his eyes, then maybe, just maybe, I would get the answers to my questions.

 

I turned my head to look at him. His eyes, smiling amber ones, were right in front of mine. The normal intensity of his gaze wasn't there. His eyes were very gentle, so much that the word “homey” went into my mind. I've never thought of using “Li Syaoran” and “homey” in one sentence. Until now, that is.

 

I blinked hesitantly, adjusting to the darkness. Gratefully, the lampshade sitting on the side drawer emitted a soft, comforting light. If it was a scene from a romance movie, I would have passed it as extremely romantic.

 

And when I finally realized the proximity of our bodies, an embarrassing heat crept quickly towards my face. Again. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning towards me with his arms on either side of my waist, his lips just inches from mine, so near that he only had to lean forward a little and—

 

“You look very flushed,” he said amusedly, taking note of the obvious redness all over my face.

 

More heat in my cheeks.

 

It was then that he slid an arm under my back and around my shoulder, and then pulled me into a half-sitting position. A free hand cupped my cheek and gently tilted my head towards him so that I leaned comfortably against his chest.

 

Even more heat. If that's even humanly possible.

 

“Now open your mouth,” he instructed. I did what he told me to do, and he placed a tablet on my tongue, before taking the mouth of the glass of water to my lips. I drank heartily, satisfying my dried-up throat. For a moment, I felt like heaven even more, just having him there, his body giving me all the warmth that I need.

 

And, unexpectedly, at that moment that I felt that he was about to stand up, I did the most stupid thing: I gripped the front of his shirt, and, with all the strength my arms had, pulled him back towards me.

 

When I finally had the courage to crane my neck and look up at him, I immediately saw his penetrating gaze, his amber eyes filled with a look I couldn't quite understand.

 

“Sakura?” His voice was husky.

 

“Don't—”

 

(wheeeeze)

 

A whimper escaped from my lips without my consent. It was getting very much colder by the second. And thanks to the rain still pouring hard outside, the blankets weren't of any use now. Now I'm feeling more feverish than I ever felt before—

 

“Are you cold?” came Syaoran's worried voice.

 

Another uncontrollable purr.

 

He took no time in reaching out his arm towards the side drawer to place the glass back. He gently lowered me back on the bed and rested my head back to the pillows. Without missing a beat, I saw him hold the bottom of his shirt and pull it above his head, then toss it somewhere behind him.

 

And there he was, looking so much like a perfect Greek god statue, all to my hands' reach. All my thoughts fled as I found myself gazing up at him in admiration, speechless, transfixed by how the dim light of the lampshade behind him made his hair look like more amber than chestnut just like his eyes, and how it bathed his muscular chest and abdomen with a hue of soft, pale gold.

 

It took me enough mind power just to keep my hands from stretching out to touch him.

 

With another awkward blush, my gaze immediately went back to his face. His eyes were staring unblinkingly into mine. Kami-sama, he looks godlier than a Greek god. And he's looking at me. Who am I to get such attention?

 

Without another word, he reached out to turn the lampshade off.

 

I felt my heart race—because of my most-hated darkness, and… something I couldn't quite explain. “Syaoran—”

 

“Ssshh,” he stopped me and leaned forward. I felt him tugging at the covers and, in a second, he flipped it up from my body.

 

I gasped, and hurried to bring my knees closer towards my chest, not just because of the sudden extreme coldness, but also in an attempt to cover myself with the sudden hit of late realization of what I've been wearing all throughout the night: An oversized forest-green cotton shirt that only reached the middle of my thighs. And my underwear.

 

Nothing else.

 

Even though it's so dark that we couldn't almost see each other, I instinctively hugged my knees, trying to cover myself up, and avoided his eyes. Embarrassing thoughts of him undressing and redressing me only made me feel so much worse than the fever.

 

How can I bring myself to look at him again?

 

“Don't hide from me, Sakura.”

 

Surprisingly, I found that I can. Look at him, I mean. Somehow, I managed to give him a mortified look. “W-why?”

 

He only gazed at me with a serious look in his eyes. “You're beautiful.”

 

What kind of woman wouldn't melt with such admission? Although yes, it did sound quite cheesy, I still felt like I could die with embarrassment. Trust Li Syaoran to give you the shivers with just two words.

 

“I'm sorry,” he continued, with an obvious blush in his cheeks as well, “I had to take your clothes off, they're all wet.”

 

Now I have nothing to hide from Li Syaoran. I'm really doomed.

 

Without any other word, he silently slipped in next to me before pulling the comforters back around our shoulders. I felt his knee nudging both of my legs downward, and it didn't take him much effort to shove them straight.

 

“Just stay still,” he whispered as he rested his head on the pillow, just beside mine. “We'll just have to wait until the medicine takes effect.” I felt his arms wrap tightly around me, as he pulled my body closer to his. “Until then I can only help warm you up.”

 

It was perfectly impossible to stay still, especially with the thought that Syaoran has his arms around me. But as I felt heavenly warmth from his body seep through my skin where his flesh touches mine, I couldn't do anything but forget everything. The feeling was nothing earthly. It was blessed heat that he was giving me. I could die in his arms and regret nothing.

 

A hand took both of mine and placed them against his chest. I blushed as soon as I felt the touch of his perfectly-chiseled chest against my hand. He felt pleasantly warm and wonderful, delightfully smooth and hard… I could even feel his heart thudding inside his chest beneath my fingers.

 

I shivered.

 

“Still cold?”

 

I nodded, and so he hooked his leg over both of mine, holding them into place. His warm hands caressed the upper part of my arms. But it wasn't enough. I was hungry with warmth. I pressed my body closer to his, and felt more of his delicious heat as I pressed my breasts against his chest.

 

Oh God, I'm cuddling into Li Syaoran and I'm not even wearing anything inside. Hey, am I dreaming? Because the real Kinomoto Sakura would definitely not let herself do this.

 

But the debating thoughts were of no strength against the hungry desire for warmth. I shut my eyes tight and shoved in closer, burying my face against the warmth of his neck. Suddenly, all I wanted was to be completely surrounded by his heat. He put his arms back around me and held me tighter, and I hook my legs back between his, pulling my lower body tight against him.

 

I heard him groan. But it certainly didn't sound like it was because of some joint or muscle ache, or any kind of pain at all, like mine did earlier. It sounded entirely and unmistakably like—God help me—the opposite of pain. I even could feel the warmth of his heavy breaths as he buried his face against my neck. “Gods, Sakura… Do you know what you're doing?” he said in a husky whisper.

 

Honestly? I don't. I just need warmth. And his body is heavenly hot. And, unfortunately, I am only making him even hotter.

 

Dream or no dream, this is really happening. Really, really happening.

 

But this is just the fever. Yes, fevers make you lose all logical sense. Fevers make you forget. Fevers make you say, think, and do things that you don't normally say, think, or do.

 

Right?

 

I tug at him, dragging him half on top of me.

 

 

Syaoran could only curse loud deep within his mind as he felt it—that troubling ache that he'd been having trouble suppressing.

 

He could feel the self-control that he'd been trying to keep up strong all night slowly shattering into little broken pieces—so tiny that it would be perfectly impossible to piece them back together. He had been trying his best to keep up a clear sense of mind all throughout this one hell of a night. But that very little strength, he could definitely feel, is quickly disappearing.

 

There's just too much pent-up attraction that's getting harder to control.

 

Or was it desire?

 

Yes, a desire that should clearly be fought off.

 

It had taken a lot of him just to fight those inevitable urges to kiss her, to touch her, to feel her. It had even taken him all his willpower just to close his eyes as he took off her clothing earlier. It was tougher than he thought it was. Closing his eyes only made his other senses grow—his hands could feel the smoothness of her skin as he slid her shirt off her body. She smelled like sweet rain mixed with sandalwood and honey. He could perfectly imagine her sweet, inviting lips, parted as she lightly breathes. He had been thinking that in no way would those lips be formed for the hard, ravenous, openmouthed kisses he wished he could bestow on them.

 

He could only groan as those forbidden thoughts came rushing into his mind, burying his face against the crook of her neck. “Gods, Sakura… Do you know what you're doing?”

 

She only responded by tugging at him, pulling him almost on top of her. It was then that he could feel all the desires he had been trying to hold back pry loose from his too-weak grip. And it's making matters worse. Worse than they had been.

 

Stop now, he could hear his mind yelling at him, or you won't be able to stop yourself later!

 

“Syaoraaan…”

 

Blast those soft little purrs Sakura kept making. That way that she kept murmuring his name made delicious shivers run along his spine. Hadn't she even realized that she's been calling him by his first name all night? But her voice seemed to seduce him, to intoxicate him. He couldn't well imagine that those were from his innocent little Sakura.

 

His Sakura.

 

He had trouble believing that it was her. If it was the Sakura he met four days ago, she would choose to die instead of having him take care of her. She wouldn't have watched him the whole night like he was going away somewhere. She wouldn't have been blushing like that. She wouldn't have said his name so many times. She wouldn't have let him get inside the covers with her. She wouldn't have pulled him nearly on top of her. And pulled him tight towards her.

 

He lifted his head to look at her, and saw that her eyes were shut tight against his neck. Was it really Sakura? Or was he only dreaming?

 

“Sakura?”

 

She didn't budge. “Hmm?”

 

“Sakura, look at me.”

 

“What makes you think that it's easy to look at you?” she mumbled. “Can you just please imagine that I'm not here? I promise, I won't trouble you anymore. Let's just sleep. Okay?”

 

He knew very well that he couldn't. He couldn't just imagine that she wasn't there. He couldn't just be untroubled. He couldn't just sleep. Because he really wasn't dreaming. Sakura, the real one, is beside him. In his arms.

 

THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE BUT YOU-KNOW-WHAT, LI SYAORAN. ANYTHING.

 

“Do you…” he started, feeling stupid, “…want to hear a story?”

 

There was no response. He didn't expect her to want to hear a lame story, anyway…

 

“Sure.”

 

But he didn't know what story to tell. So he started to say the first thing that came into his mind:

 

“There was once a lonely boy who didn't know what “happiness” means…” He struggled to find the next words to say. “So he traveled far to search for answers.”

 

And then, letting his thoughts guide him, he continued: “Along the way, he met a bird. He asked the bird, “What is `happiness'”? The bird told him, “Happiness is when you can freely fly around without anyone stopping you.” The boy didn't understand what the bird meant, so he continued on his journey. He then met a lion. He asked the lion, “What is `happiness'?” The lion told him, “Happiness is when you have power and the glory.” But the boy understood nothing of it, and so he walked again. Along the way, he met a fox. He asked the fox, “What is `happiness'? The fox answered him, “Happiness is when you get all that you want, everything that you ever wished for.” The boy still didn't understand what the fox meant, and so he continued on his journey.”

 

He looked at her peaceful face. “Then he met a girl. He asked her, “What is your name?” And the girl answered, “Love.””

 

Sakura laughed quietly, and then whispered, “What did the boy say after?”

 

He smiled. “He didn't say anything… because after he found Love, he found the meaning of happiness.”

 

“Took him long enough,” she smiled. “Where'd you get that story, anyway?”

 

“If I told you, I'd have to kill you…” He closed his own eyes, and murmured, “…and then I'd kill myself, too.”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

His eyes shot open. When he turned to her, she was already looking at him. “What? I was just kidding… I made the story up—”

 

“No, I mean, I'm sorry… about what I said earlier. I didn't mean to run out like that. Maybe… maybe it was the alcohol. Sorry.”

 

“You know, about what you said…”

 

“Forget what I said,” she cut him off. “Everything. When I told you that I was afraid to fall in love with you, it was just because I couldn't think of anything to say. You know. And I was drunk. That's all.”

 

How could he think that maybe it was possible that Sakura has feelings for him, too? Maybe he was just hoping for too much. When she said those words, he thought that…

 

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

 

“For what?”

 

“Just `thank you'.” She buried her face under his neck again. “Oyasumi.”

 

For now, Syaoran thought, that would suffice. He smiled. After all, he has also found what “happiness” means.

 

“Oyasumi.”

 

 

Friday, 6:15 AM

 

I woke up suddenly, as I felt Syaoran weight shift while he sat up. He already has his shirt back on. There were hints of dark circles under his eyes, but his smiling eyes still looked bright.

 

“Sakura-chi.”

 

“Syaoran…?”

 

He only smiled at me before shortly placing his hand on top of my forehead and then reaching towards the side drawer to get the thermometer resting on top of it. He tucked the thermometer under my tongue and began to stroke my hair while waiting.

 

After a while, he took it out and held it near the lampshade. With a relieved sigh, he placed the thermometer back on top of the drawer and kissed my forehead thoughtfully. “Fever broke.”

 

I smiled back at him and stretched leisurely. So that's why I feel lighter. And the feeling of Satan poking my head thousands of times was gone, along with the cold-hot-cold-hot feeling. Now, although, my nose still isn't alright and my throat still feels a bit rough, I feel much better.

 

“Now, you need to get some sleep.” He began to stand. “What would you want to eat for breakfast when you wake up? I'll cook—”

 

I tugged at his shirt.

 

“What's the matter?” he asked worriedly.

 

And then I blushed. Again.

 

“Pillow.” I mumbled.

 

“You want more pillows?”

 

“Can't you stay?”

 

He smiled, and went to lay back on the bed with me. “I make a pretty handsome pillow, huh?” He pulled the covers back over us and put his arms around me.

 

“Whatever.”

 

But he makes the warmest pillow. He was all I needed to fall asleep.

 

 

Author's Notes: Gaaah, so yeah, it was my first time to write a scene like that! So what did you think of it? Should I raise the rating? @.@ Hehe, kidding.

 

Tadaima modorimashita! That was a long, long time, ne? But THANK YOU for all the lovely reviews! I ADORE you guys! (hugs all reviewers) :)

 

Oh, one more thing. As you've always known, updates are not exactly going to be what you'd call “soon” (as in reviews saying “update soon!”). Although I try to write the chapters as fast as I possibly could, I can't assure you an update like once every two days or once a week. You see, I'm currently a sophomore in one hell of a slave-driving university here in the Philippines (hehe, only kidding) and I'm currently spending most (if not all) of my time sticking my head between my thick Pathophysiology book. So what I can definitely assure you is that I'm going to update. And all I ask is for your patience. Bear with me, please? :)

 

Arigatou, minna-sama!