Categories > Anime/Manga > Card Captor Sakura > Departing
Departing
He does not stop the other boy when he reaches out to embrace him. Inconsequential, he realises even as he's enfolded by arms, to think that this will matter in another fifteen minutes. He supposes his non-reaction is due to shock, or pain, or numbness, or just a silent acceptance of the proverbial consequences. He cannot find his voice to even say the things he should say. No, best to remain silent, to avoid saying the things he won't mean.
It should hurt less.
They part, as though they never held the other a little closer than a casual friend would. He sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at his shoes. The mud has already dried, more like chipped paint than sludge now. He wonders if it will wash off. After a brief pause, a hand takes his chin and he finds himself looking at sky-grey eyes.
"I suppose this is the part where we say farewell."
He does not reply verbally.
Hiiragizawa laughs faintly, though it is neither in mirth nor scorn. His eyes are oddly flat, not reflecting everything as they usually do. He does not want me to see my weakness, Syaoran thinks, even if he realises that I already know it's there.
"Goodbye," Hiiragizawa says, in a tone that vaguely speaks of other things, other goodbyes to the things that will remain as unspoken as the events leading up to this moment, because in their neat containment words will only fracture the surface of their paper-thin world. Even if it is under the pretence that everything is fine between them, Syaoran will allow this, if only because the illusion will dispel the ache that he feels infesting quietly inside his chest.
Syaoran nods, swallowing.
When Eriol Hiiragizawa turns around and departs, vanishing into the shadows of a dark city, Syaoran attempts to convince himself that it is not the end. Since when has Hiiragizawa ever admitted defeat?
It should hurt less.
Syaoran Li is not crying. He's not.
He does not stop the other boy when he reaches out to embrace him. Inconsequential, he realises even as he's enfolded by arms, to think that this will matter in another fifteen minutes. He supposes his non-reaction is due to shock, or pain, or numbness, or just a silent acceptance of the proverbial consequences. He cannot find his voice to even say the things he should say. No, best to remain silent, to avoid saying the things he won't mean.
It should hurt less.
They part, as though they never held the other a little closer than a casual friend would. He sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at his shoes. The mud has already dried, more like chipped paint than sludge now. He wonders if it will wash off. After a brief pause, a hand takes his chin and he finds himself looking at sky-grey eyes.
"I suppose this is the part where we say farewell."
He does not reply verbally.
Hiiragizawa laughs faintly, though it is neither in mirth nor scorn. His eyes are oddly flat, not reflecting everything as they usually do. He does not want me to see my weakness, Syaoran thinks, even if he realises that I already know it's there.
"Goodbye," Hiiragizawa says, in a tone that vaguely speaks of other things, other goodbyes to the things that will remain as unspoken as the events leading up to this moment, because in their neat containment words will only fracture the surface of their paper-thin world. Even if it is under the pretence that everything is fine between them, Syaoran will allow this, if only because the illusion will dispel the ache that he feels infesting quietly inside his chest.
Syaoran nods, swallowing.
When Eriol Hiiragizawa turns around and departs, vanishing into the shadows of a dark city, Syaoran attempts to convince himself that it is not the end. Since when has Hiiragizawa ever admitted defeat?
It should hurt less.
Syaoran Li is not crying. He's not.
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