Love Doesn’t Have A Price
Chapter Sixteen: Breaking Down
“You lied to me!” Ritsuko screamed, “This whole time you were just using me, weren’t you?”
Her dark haired companion gazed at her impassively, “I never lied to you Ritsuko, neglected to tell you a few things perhaps, but I never lied.”
Her body shook with unshed tears as her voice softened, the hurt filtering through, “You knew who I was the first time I met you, you knew and you used me to get to my father.”
He shrugged, “So I used you. People use each other often it’s not a huge deal.”
Tears began to fall; lightly at first and the increasing until they were so heavy she thought they would never stop, “I should never have trusted you.”
Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” he confirmed, “But you did.”
Turning away from him she gazed out of her balcony taking in the beautiful sunset through blurred vision, somehow it just didn’t seem right for it to be so perfect when she was in so much pain.
“Go Asakura,” her voice sounded dead, “Go away and never come back.”
Emotion flashed through his eyes for a brief moment before he caught himself. Sinking into a low mocking bow he murmured, “As you wish, princess,” and walked away.
Washing the heavy makeup from her face Sakura allowed herself to relax. They were finally going to be given a break from filming, a chance for her to go home and to see her family again. It had been five months since they had last seen each other and their time for calls had virtually stopped in the last month or so due to heavy amounts of work for both of them.
Since the incident last month with her co-star Kenji they had stuck true to form and never spoken of it again, although at times she had found him watching her. Initially she had worried that the flashes she could recall seeing had been a camera and that someone had caught it and would publish it. But having had no word from Syaoran to indicate that he had seen it meant that there was little chance she had been correct in her assumption.
Tying her hair back briefly she half dragged – half carried her enormous suitcase to the door. It opened just as she reached it and the case fell to the floor as she glanced in astonishment at the person standing there.
“Hey Sakura.”
“Yukito?” with shocked incredulity she gazed at the ash haired man standing before her.
He drew her into a hug and she hugged him back desperately, “How did you get here?”
Straightening as he released her he smiled, “Touya told me about your movie and since he’s been to busy to come and visit you lately he sent me as his emissary.”
Planting a kiss against his cheek she grinned at him, “You make a perfect emissary too!”
Smiling back at her he asked, “Would you like me to carry your suitcase?”
Smiling beatifically at him she handed the heavy bag – with some difficulty – to him.
They wandered through the set until reaching the car park, talking about her family and friends back in Tokyo.
“So how about dinner, on me?” Yukito queried, hauling her bags into the trunk of his rental while she pretended not to notice the effort it took him.
“My flight leaves in a couple of hours, so we wouldn’t want to be too long,” Sakura responded grinning at him, “But I think I can manage that. There’s a really nice Vietnamese place around the corner, we could walk there.”
A deft grin was her answer and she held a hand out to him, readily lacing her fingers with his as she pulled him in the direction of the restaurant. It was a small place bustling with activity where the people were completely oblivious as to who she was and the waiters knew her by name and food.
“So, how’s married life?” Yukito queried.
Swiping a spring roll from the plate brought out for them Sakura thought over that question with a great deal of interest. Truth be told, she never really remembered that she was married.
“It’s not that different,” she confessed, “I still go off to work, I still talk to my friends and family, it’s just now there’s this new person.”
Yukito grinned at her vagueness, “You’re getting along?”
“We are now,” Sakura responded blushing faintly, “I mean we haven’t exactly fought a lot since we’ve been married. I think we’ve both sort of been resigned to the fact that this is it now.”
After regarding her silently for a moment Yukito asked gently, “Do you love him?”
A small smile secreted over Sakura’s lips, “I-“
“Two Chicken Sweet-Corn soup, Chicken and Vegetables, Beef Hot Pot, Salt and Pepper Squid, Steamed Green Vegetables and Steamed Rice?” the waitress interrupted, balancing the many plates precariously whilst trying to read the list in her hands.
Breaking into a huge smile Sakura nodded, “That’d be us.”
The waitress looked up and smiled, “Oh hey Sakura.”
“Hey Akia, been on long?” Sakura responded.
“Oh you know, usual,” she responded dismissively, “You’ve ordered a ton of food for two people.”
Sakura shrugged one shoulder, “ Blame him,” she pointed to Yukito, “He’s a bottomless pit I swear.”
Laughing Akia smacked her lightly on the shoulder, “That’s no way to be talking about your date.”
“Oh, no, it’s not what you think-“ Sakura broke off wondering just how she could explain that she was already happily married without revealing just who she was married too.
“I’m just a friend.” Yukito cut in helpfully.
Akia smiled, “Great, if you’re bored while here look me up.”
Laughing at her friend’s abrupt change in opinion Sakura claimed her soup and chicken – and kept it on her side as far away from Yukito as possible.
The night ended with Yukito driving her to the airport and promising to come visit her in the near future – and her telling him that yes she did know that phones existed and yes she would try to call a little more regularly.
Tomoyo entered her hotel suite after a long day of negotiations that hadn’t gone anywhere. The first thing that she noticed was that it was oddly quiet. The TV wasn’t blaring, the kitchen was relatively clean and aside from the cleaners having visited it at some point during the day it was rather clean.
Walking over to drop her bag on the plush white couch she stood and viewed the room with a blank expression. Releasing a sigh she leaned on one foot and rubbed an arm nervously. It was almost incomprehensible to think that she missed him. Tomoyo Daidouji never missed anyone. She’d spent the majority of her life alone, bar her mother’s occasional company and Sakura’s more frequent visitations.
In his moderately short time in her life it seemed she’d grown accustomed to Eriol.
No, it was more than that. She felt something for him, aside from compatibility. Dropping into the chair she carefully tried to figure out just when her opinion had changed.
Picking up the phone next to her she dialled a familiar number.
The dial tone sounded for a few seconds before it stopped.
“Hey, you’ve reached Sakura, I’m not around to take your call at the moment, if you’ll leave your name and number I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
Throwing the phone down in frustration she glared angrily around the room as if it were the cause of her problems. Struggling with her feelings for a few minutes Tomoyo finally took a deep breath picked up her phone, flipped through the database, and dialled a slightly less familiar number.
Ritualistically Sakura generally liked to have a long bath once she arrived home from a flight, during said bath she enjoyed eating something to wash away the crappy plane food and overall remind her that real food still existed in the world.
It was mind boggling how much a couple of hours on a plane could manage to exhaust you beyond compare but here she was, almost dead with fatigue, uncomfortable and hauling a heavy suitcase along the ground by herself.
For some unknown reason none of the house staff seemed to be on. Ditching it in the hallway she trailed down the corridors until she reached her husbands study. The light was still on inside.
Smiling she pushed the door open and stopped a stab of emotion entering her.
Her husband sat at his desk, looking up from the papers he’d been riffling through. His gaze on her is accusatory, and the welcome smile she had been expected has long since been misplaced in favour of impassiveness.
“Syaoran?” Her voice is shaking and she can’t explain exactly why, because she shouldn’t be afraid of him right now, has no reason to be, but she is. “Is something wrong?”
In response her tosses her a plain manilla folder, his name carefully inscribed on the front. Opening it with steady hands she pulls out the glossy images and blanches.
The first image is of Kenji grasping her, the second of him kissing her, but it’s not them she’s worried about.
Pulling out the last few photos Sakura stares at them steadily. It’s true that she and Yukito look fairly comfortable with each other; years of familiarity do that to people.
Her eyes flick back up to him as she places the folder, photos on top, gently back on his desk.
His eyes are mocking as she looks back at him, one corner of his mouth twisted up in a wry smile.
“Aren’t you going to tell me that it’s not what I think?”
It takes everything Sakura has not to break down and try to explain to him just exactly what the situation is, but she’s played this game before and she knows that if she lets him win it will never end. Her eyes challenge him as she offers in a voice far steadier than she feels, “You can think what you like about it.”
His eyes darken at this statement but the impenetrable mask is back and she knows that he’s beyond angry.
“It’s funny,” he comments; voice deceptively light, “That I had just started to trust you, that you weren’t everything I expected you to be.”
Breathing suddenly becomes hard to do, because in their few months married she’s grown to love him and she can’t console with the fact that what they have is starting to end.
She smiles and she knows that it’s brutal, “Please darling, we both know that you made your mind up about me along time ago.”
His eyes bore into hers and she forces herself to remain still, because any sign of weakness right now would be a bad thing. “Tell me it isn’t true.”
A bitter smile is fighting its way onto her face, but she refuses to show him, because she’s realised now that if she keeps giving into him she’ll keep giving until she loses every part of herself. Pulling her emotions in check she looks him straight in the eyes and says softly, “I shouldn’t have to.”
It’s in that moment that this is truly over, and a small, cynical part of her mind tells her that it’s about time. It’s never been in her nature to argue, never been her nature to sacrifice herself for someone else’s state of mind until she met him. For the last time she looks at Li Syaoran. Daring him to argue with her, to beg her back, to say he was wrong. She knows that if he says anything right now she’ll go back to him straight away, because Kinimoto Sakura has never been incredibly strong willed.
He remains silent however and pride only allows her to wait so long before turning and walking back out through that door, from that house, forever.
Mei Ling arrived at the house barely an hour after Sakura had left, eyes ringed with red and face for the first time in a long time devoid of makeup.
Shuffling her way down the corridors until she came across the study she glanced in to find Syaoran sitting at the desk, a scotch in his hand.
“Is Sakura here?” she sniffed, doing her best to pull herself together again.
He didn’t look up. “No.”
“Know when she’ll be back?” Mei Ling tried again, frowning at Syaoran’s behaviour.
He didn’t respond, eyes focussed on the glass of liquor he was swirling around in a slow steady manner before downing the last of it in one gulp.
“Syaoran?”
His eyes finally met her own and she was surprised to see the dead look in them; it had been a long time since Syaoran had been this emotionless.
“She’s gone Mei Ling, and with any luck she won’t be back.”
His words are blunt, harsh and Mei Ling glances around the room for the source of his sudden mood. Her eyes settle on the photographs and she silently picks them up.
Slowly, calmly she takes them in before throwing them on the ground and fixing Syaoran with a firm look, “I don’t believe it.”
It’s all she says. All she needs to say as she turns and is the second person that night to storm out of the room, her intentions far different from those of her counterparts however.
Pulling the front door open she allows it to swing back, letting it slam against the frame with more force than necessary. Opening the car door with an equal amount of force she harshly clicked the gears into place, swerving out erratically and making her way to airport.
The petite figure sat in front of the cameras allowing them to photograph them as much as they wanted with pointlessly fake smiles devoted in their directions.
The thin figure entering through the back caught her attention however and she smiled one last fake smile to the photographers before pulling herself up from the silk sheets and walking off of the podium. Clad only in scanty red lingerie a short black silk dressing gown that hung open and four inch black stilettos she walked across to the man she had been expecting for days now.
“Can you excuse me please?” she inquired sweetly, fully expecting the answer to be yes as she pulled the man from the room with her. Releasing him as soon as they entered the corridor she stalked off until she reached her room, knowing that he would follow behind her like a lost little puppy.
Throwing open the door to her change room she shot her assistant a dark look and watched her skittering out of the room as fast as she could.
As soon as the door closed behind her the man launched on her, planting his lips against her own and grasping her hips and grinding them against his own.
She turned her head to the side, allowing his kisses to trail down her neck eagerly, “Is it done?”
He ignored the question, heated kisses following her collarbone down slightly further. Irritated she grasped his hair and pulled his head from her.
“Is it done?” she repeated.
“They’re officially over.” His response was accompanied with a satisfied grin.
She smiled, releasing his head to let him begin kissing her again. Pushing a knee between his legs she said softly, “Tell me something.”
He stopped momentarily to look up at her with ready anticipation and she couldn’t help but grin at his eagerness.
“Does she kiss better than I do?”
He grinned, “You know she doesn’t.”
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