Italics mean it’s a flashback (which you should be able to tell), or it is a person thinking.

Bold Italics is the poem.

Home In the Dark

"Sakura-san…Sakura-san!" Tomoyo cried, practically screaming into her friend’s ears. The purple-haired girl’s cheeks were soaked with tears, and her school uniform skirt was wrinkled beyond compare. But no matter how loud she yelled the name, her auburn-haired friend wouldn’t reply. Instead, Sakura’s head was bowed down and her hands rolled up into fists at her side. She was biting her lip so hard, she could feel it break, and the irony taste of blood touch her tongue. And forbidden tears were rolling on to the floor, one after another, like the rain. The horrible, cold and bitter rain.

Eriol placed his hand on Tomoyo’s shoulder and jerked her slightly back. Tomoyo faced him, holding her purple umbrella, a look of desperation written plain across her features. "Eriol-kun…" she whispered softly, before she ran into his arms and started to cry, muffling her sobs with her hands. Eriol wrapped his arms around her and nodded, patting her back. "Eriol-kun…I just can’t believe it…"

Eriol stroked his hand through her hair. "Shhh, Tomoyo, it’s okay…"

"Oh but Eriol…"

"I’m sure that’s he’s better off wherever he is." Tomoyo nodded, and lay her head on his chest, sniffling and crying silently. "And that he wouldn’t want us to cry for him." he added, looking directly at Sakura. The Cardcaptor stopped in her tracks.

"It’s all my fault. I did this to him." Sakura muttered through her clenched teeth, before she kicked off the ground and sprinted off down the wet sidewalk, dropping her own umbrella on the wet ground. It rolled around on its rim a few times, before keeping still. Tomoyo was about to run after her, but a gentle hand pulled her back.

"Eriol, we have to chase after her!"

He shook his head gently and stared after Sakura. "Let her be. You know as perfectly as I do that she has to be alone right now. No one can help her. She’s got to realize that it isn’t her fault. She won’t believe us." Tomoyo stared after her best friend and knotted her hands together in apprehension. Gently brushing out her skirt, with her eyes still plastered at the empty space that Sakura was in a minute ago, Tomoyo nodded and replied.

"I just do hope that she realizes it soon." She whispered to herself.

Sakura stopped at the entrance to the park, and looked up slowly. The wetness streamed down her face, but she felt so numb. It was pouring now. She couldn’t tell if it was the rain or her own tears. She knew that some of them were, for the burning still nagged at the edges of her glassy eyes. She stared solemnly at the large penguin, its lower beak bending down to form the favored slide that many of the children played on. She walked step by step, making each centimeter seem like it was a struggle to cross.

Her legs felt like jelly. She could have bet they would have diluted in the rain and melt. And the rest of her would drain with it into the sewer. But it didn’t. She wasn’t that lucky.

Placing herself on the wet bench, she felt the water pierce through her clothes. Her hair was wet and matted to her face, her dress sticking to her legs. But she didn’t care. She didn’t feel the shiver that ran down her spine, or the wet splinter that she brushed up against on the wood. She bent over and wrapped her arms around her legs, bringing them close to her chest.

Sitting there, wet and cold and lonely in the pounding rain, Sakura began to think. Her turmoil of thoughts were slowly gaining access into the silent area, drowning out the scream of the rain hitting the floor, and the sobs that racked Sakura’s body.

Sakura stared blankly at the pale face of her young friend lying still beneath the white hospital blankets. The others had left a while ago, sensing that she had to be alone. But her gaze did not turn from her childhood friend, nor did it waver. They were glued on the lifeless face, that used to be so flushed with youth…was now drained of all it ever had. And within the young girl’s mind, a whirlpool of contradicting thoughts waged war with each other and clashed, again and again. And each time they hit, a tear rolled down her cheek and fell down on her folded hands, laid gently on top of his. Her fingers were intertwined with the limp ones, and her face lined with worry.

The thoughts had clashed many times, and the fabric of the white cover that his hand lay on was wet with salty tears. But she didn’t mind it, and he couldn’t notice it, so they both stayed there in silence. The seemingly perpetual beeping of the green line on the graphed screen sounded every few seconds. But it seemed so slow and forced, as if it was engaged in a struggle to go up and fall back down one more time. The sound made her nauseous…the whole room made her feel sick. For she could feel the presence of death in the building, rearing its sharpened sheath, ready to bring whoever’s time had come back home to where he or she belonged.

And finally, after a leaping flutter and downfall, it stopped. It lay still like a drop of water pouring down one straw, in the same straight green line. She didn’t call the doctors to come rushing in the room. No need to. They wouldn’t be able to do anything, nothing but send bolts of energy through him. She didn’t care anymore.

She watched longingly as his head lolled to the side. His unruly hair shuffling only the slightest bit as he moved his head. She stared and she stared and she stared. She dared not move, in fear that if she did, he would disappear all together. She wanted to look at him, just a few more moments, for the last time.

The doctors came rushing in a few minutes later, and she begged them not to do anything. They had reluctantly agreed. They wouldn’t have been able to do anything, and Sakura knew they would have a hard time sleeping that night. For when the old died, it was usually mixed in with the sense of he/she-lived a good life. But when a young girl or boy died, it was a sense of what-we-could-have-done, and what-he/she-would-have-missed. So they filed out of the room, each stealing one last glance.

Sakura sat back down and stared at Syaoran. And she cried harder than she had ever done before. And her heart screamed many times before it broke, and she finally opened her mouth and screamed. Screamed to drain the tears out, scream to show that she was afraid, so very afraid.

Syaoran, do you miss me? I miss you so much.

Do you think we’ll ever see each other again? I do hope so.

Are you afraid up there, so alone? I am, down here.

Do you want to see me? I want to see you badly.

And are you lonely? Because I am so very lonely, I long for your touch, and your warmth pressed against me. I never told you, so I never knew how it felt. So I hope that this life does hurry itself up, so that the sooner I die, the sooner I see you. And the sooner I see you, the sooner I tell.

Sakura walked herself home, her legs acting on impulse. She didn’t say a word as her father and brother asked their bothersome questions. She dragged herself up the stairs and into the room, wetting everything she stepped on. And she dropped herself down on her bed, face-flat, and felt its warmth. And she cried again. Kero sat by himself on the top of a bookshelf, and stared sadly down at Sakura, nodding his little head, understanding her actions better than anyone in the whole house.

"Don’t cry, Sakura, I don’t think he would have wanted it." Kero said, though only he could hear it.

Syaoran died alone. He died knowing that no one loved him. I never said it. Not a word, and not a hint. He never knew…

And Syaoran died on a rainy day. The sun seemed to close up because it wanted him to die cold. I hate the sun.

And Syaoran died unconscious. He never heard us whisper words of confidence to him. He died with his eyes closed, he never saw the tears that stained our faces, and the wishful looks in our eyes, dulled out by the strikes of realization.

And I believe Syaoran knew he was going to die. Because he never tried waking up. He didn’t want to see us again, he didn’t want to hear us. And why he wanted that, I don’t know. But he wanted it too soon.

Did he think that no one wanted him? Well now, I bet he knows. I want him. I wanted him to open his eyes so badly, I would have given up anything. But he didn’t take the offer, and death turned it down. So I ended up losing. But I still want him back. I want them to give him back to me!

Is this punishment for me? Because I never told him? If I said sorry, would you reconsider?! Of course not…so why bother…but just for the record…Li Syaoran, I’m so sorry. I made you die alone.

So in return, I’ll die alone too.

Sakura locked Kero out of her room, slamming the door shut. The guardian beast clawed desperately at the door, but not too loud. He couldn’t let the others find out about him. But his brows furrowed. He didn’t like the looks of this at all. He didn’t trust Sakura to be alone in her room by herself. Especially after he found out about the little pocketknife she kept in her drawer.

She did it in less than a second.

The knife slashing at her wrist, and the warm blood that kept on spilling out of its container. It was warm…so warm…and yet she felt so cold. But she smiled so blissfully, no one would have tried to stop her from leaving. She wanted to go so badly…those eyes just told everyone. So when Kero finally squeezed through under the door, he just gaped at Sakura. His pale and pretty master. She smiled at him, and lightly waved, before her hand dropped limply to the ground, she being too weak to hold it up. But she was still alive. And she stared lovingly at him. Her lips parted and she spoke. "Kero-chan…I’m going to see Syaoran…" Kero just gaped…he couldn’t say a word, couldn’t mutter, couldn’t move. She was slipping away, into the dark.

"Sakura…"

"Kero…it’s dark…"

Kero flew to her side, and pressed his proud little sobbing self against her cheek and nodded. "It’ll be light soon. Goodbye Sakura." She smiled, her green dull eyes looking up into space.

"Goodbye, Kero-chan." They closed.

And she died in less than a minute.