Oh my god here we are.

Syaoran shouldn't be doing this. He knew that. He could feel it in the way the woman watched him run out of the library. He could feel it in the way Mokona clung silently to his shoulder, radiating worry. In the way his stomach curled at the thought of Fai and Kurogane arriving to pick him up and finding him missing. In his heart. In his head. In the damp grass at the edge of the water. He shouldn't be here.

It was in the way the spirits looked at him, guileless. Too innocent. They were acting and he knew that too.

But what if?

What if they knew something? Anything.

Anything was better than what he had currently. A year's worth of searching, studying, hunting, and investigating had rewarded him with a tremendous feeling of failure and nothing more. He missed Sakura. He ached for his parents. He wasn't hungry. He couldn't sleep even on the best of nights. He was falling apart and his companions could only watch.

"What do you know of soul magic?"

The spirits whispered amongst themselves, slipping closer. Mokona huddled into his neck.

Either they didn't know, or they weren't telling, and something deep inside Syaoran cracked. Crumbled beyond repair.

Words came out of his mouth purely by reflex. The world was blurring around him, a dark haze. His hands were cold, but he was burning inside. It was too much to contain, creeping up his throat and spilling over his lashes. His numb feet turned him back towards the town.

And straight to Kurogane and Fai.

Syaoran may have apologized. He felt removed from his own body. There was no room for him in there anyway.

And then something had him by the wrist, a sensation like static crackling under his skin. It was instinct that allowed him any semblance of counterattack, but in the end it didn't matter. There was water in his eyes and in his nose and clogging his throat. The fire inside him was extinguished only to be replaced by a flood.

Everything twisted. Syaoran watched colors flash and swirl from under the surface. The world was warping, dimming, cooling.

Arms. Hands too big to be known. A wash of sounds, of light, of movement. He was heavy. Weighed down. Weary.

Syaoran drifted.

Sunk.

The darkness around him pressed inwards, into his heart, into his mind. Pressed relentlessly until darkness was all that existed. Everything faded, retreating so deeply that almost nothing could be reached. All that was left was warm hands. Soft lullabies. Sunlight and laughter and safety.

Syaoran rested here. His head filled with a slow jumble of half remembered dreams.

Waking was hard. This world was too big and too solid compared to the gentle dimness he was pulled from.

But there were soft hands here too. Large, strong hands to hold his own, to carry him, to protect and treasure. There was love in this house. In the blankets in their bed. In the hot food on his plate. There was love in the words on the air and in the feather-light touches to his cheek.

Syaoran filled himself with it. Soaked in in. Basked in the safety and joy of this place. There was no fear of falling for someone would catch him.

The world outside darkened and there were sparks in the sky and at his fingertips.

But the light would return, bringing with it a freedom to move. Space to discover. Wonders to unearth.

Syaoran may not have a name for this place, but it was good.

It was good.

It was good even when he wasn't.

Aches crept between his joints, a warning that this was not to last. It snaked into his bones and coiled in his belly. Syaoran rebelled in earnest, pushing, pulling at his power the only way he knew how. Comforting bodies surrounded him. Soothing water. Velvet blankets. He ached, but he was loved.

Pressed against the strongest heartbeat he knew, a mist seeped over him. The pain turned tail in the face of such kindness and peace fell where there had been turmoil.

Syaoran dreamed.

Dreamed of sand and water and reflecting flickers from candles. Of scorching days and chilled nights and the heavens alight with infinite stars. Of intricate rugs and soft cotton tassels, deep blues trimmed with gold. Of the phantom feeling of hands smaller than his. Delicate fingers clenched in victory. Of bittersweet company. Of newfound joy and newfound loneliness.

Of sudden terror and grief.

Waking into this world was jarring. Too crisp and vivid after wandering through such a fantasy.

He did not know these two strangers, but he yearned for them nonetheless. And he was rewarded. Gentle hands on his shoulders, his back, his hair. Words of comfort. Of solace. Warm food in his bowl and cool drink in his glass. He did not know these strangers, but he wanted to. He would.

Until the universe shifted beneath his feet, images of cruel faces, of mirror images, of a boy so alone.

He was heavy with the weight of this betrayal. Of the misuse of his wishes. He could not move. He would not be allowed. And yet the warm hands stayed. Bolstering. Steadying. Strengthening. Syaoran defied the dark shadow and pushed and pushed and pushed. The words that fell on his ears were fond. Proud.

And when he could push no more they were merciful.

The darkness pressed on him once more. Too all encompassing to ignore. Stretching out with no boundaries and no end.

This was not rest but this was not motion.

A new fire raged under his skin, erasing all but the tender strokes of cool fingers over his scalp.

The boy sunk further. Down, down, until he'd gone so far that he'd reached the other side.

And then he surfaced.

Syaoran blinked against the light streaming over his face, eyebrows scrunching in annoyance. It was a rare occurrence to be woken like this. Fai was usually adamant about closing up properly at night no matter where they were. The shades only stayed open a little if the weather was nice and the windows were cracked.

It seemed too cold for that, cool morning air crawling over the bed and down to the floor. Had that woken him, or had it been the sun? Birds twittered from the tree in the courtyard. It could have been that too, he supposed.

The boy shifted in the blankets, thin sheets tangling around his ankles. He reached up to rub at his face. Scrub the sleep from his eyes. He felt odd. It was easy to move, easy to deftly remove his legs from the confines of the bedcovers, easy to breathe, to sit up. Easy to think, his mind clear and unhindered. The fact that he noticed the ease of it all was the part that was strange. Had it been difficult before?

He pushed that quandary to the side when he caught sight of the scene around him.

Both Fai and Kurogane were still asleep. With the exception of a few restless nights, and those were nights mind you, Syaoran had never been the only one awake. Not like this. Mokona too, was curled on his pillow, but that was a common sight.

How early was it that he had beat-

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh…

Warm hands around his. Wind rushing around him. Swinging up to the sky. A scream of pure delight.

Something swelled in his chest, but it didn't burn this time. It was something sweet and fond and dear. How long had it been since he was able to experience that kind of unconditional care?

Maybe not as long as he had thought. Maybe it had been right in front of him and he'd been too focused on other things to see it.

Syaoran crossed his legs beneath him, fingers twisting around each other. Amber eyes gazed at his family. They loved him. He knew that. It was impossible to dispute but… to know you are loved and to feel loved were two very different things.

He sat in the early morning calm, unmoving, for a long time.

Syaoran knew they had been worrying about him. Knew it, and had been only been using that knowledge to push himself to work harder. Using the guilt to drive him. To seek results even more desperately. Maybe if he finally found something, if only he could find something, he could erase the stress from their faces. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that was backwards. That it was the overworking that was putting the stress there in the first place, but anything less than working more felt like giving up. The idea of another failure would crush him.

Syaoran pulled his legs up, folding his arms over his knees. He pressed his cheek to his bicep and breathed slow. Breathed in, dew on the grass and the scent of the bakery down the street. Breathed out his disappointment. Breathed in, wavering shadows of the leaves dancing on the windowsill. Breathed out his regrets. Breathed in, birds chasing each other through the foliage and the distant humming of someone's music. Breathed out his self-imposed deadlines. Breathed.

This world was quaint. Picturesque. Full of character and kind people and unique architecture.

When had he stopped noticing things like that?

A bird landed on the windowsill outside, shuffling his wings and cleaning his feathers. An iridescent stripe of green-blue-purple ran from the crest of his forehead to the tip of his tail. It was absolutely stunning.

When had Syaoran buried himself so deeply into trying to save others that he had forgotten to let himself live?

Fai and Kurogane (and Mokona of course) wouldn't want that. His parents likely wouldn't either.

But most importantly, Syaoran realized that he didn't want that.

A new kind of resolution took root in his chest. Hadn't Fai once said that there would be hardships on their journey? That there were troubles they couldn't forget even if they tried, so why dwell on such unhappy things? That they should do their best to make this an enjoyable experience…

Fai hadn't said it to him. He hadn't even said it to the other Syaoran, but to Sakura of all people. But he had heard. He had heard but not listened.

It was time to start listening again.

A heavy wave of cold air pushed itself over the bed and Mokona curled its ears closer in it's sleep, shivering.

Syaoran carefully crawled over the creature, reaching out to close the window as quietly as he could. It shut with a dull thump, but Mokona did not stir. Syaoran tugged the sheet up over Mokona's round form, right up to the magical creature's closed eyes.

When he sat back another pair of eyes opened.

Kurogane did not move, did not blink. He stared, intense red eyes fixed on Syaoran's face. The boy held his gaze.

A firm grip. Endless words that matched pictures on a page. A steady heartbeat under his ear.

"Good morning," he greeted in a whisper.

The ninja levered himself upright, eyes narrowing, assessing.

"Good to see you again, kid," Kurogane said. "You feel alright?"

Syaoran nodded, "I'm fine," He looked down, then changed his mind and looked back up, putting as much feeling as he could into his tone. "I'm feeling much better. Thank you, Kurogane."

The man blinked, eyebrows raised.

It had been much too long since Syaoran had been clear and honest if Kurogane was thrown his much by such a simple thing.

But he smiled, and Syaoran returned it, small but genuine. A hand fell into his hair and scrubbed back and forth and Syaoran let himself soak it in. Let his eyes scrunch shut and let the warmth in his chest out in a soft sound of appreciation. Kurogane's hand slipped down over his ear to cup his cheek, patting twice before retreating.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes, very," Syaoran turned to watch the ninja slide off the end of the bed. "Would you like help?"

Kurogane's eyes flickered from the boy to the still sleeping magician beside him.

"Nah. You stay there."

Syaoran nodded. Kurogane's footsteps moved out of the room as the boy scooted himself closer to Fai. Pale sunlight streaked over the man's pale face, highlighted his hair in blinding stripes. Syaoran dusted his fingertips over Fai's own, pillowed next to his head.

Love in their dances. Love in their hugs. Love in the words in his songs and in the kisses on his cheeks, on his forehead, on his nose.

It was in muted surprise that Syaoran felt his eyes watering. He blinked it away. There was a motion like laughter with no sound, just curled shoulders and a single shake.

"Fai?" he tried hesitantly.

The mage shifted. His eyebrows furrowed and then smoothed again. Syaoran smiled a little. Fai had always been a heavy sleeper.

"Fai…"

Fai's eyelids fluttered, confusion stealing over his face before he was even fully awake. Syaoran let him take his time. The man rolled onto his back and peeked open bleary blue eyes. They widened when they met his own, blinking rapidly.

"Fai?" Syaoran tested to see if the man was really with him. He was often slow to wake, brain lagging behind even when his eyes were open.

Fai stared, his mouth moving but no sound making it past his lips.

"Syaoran?"

The boy smiled down at him, every ounce of gratitude he could muster behind it.

"I'm home," his voice wavered at the end, and oh, the tears were back. But that was alright because Fai's eyes were getting damp as well.

The mage reached up and tugged Syaoran down and into an embrace, fingers twisting in his nightshirt and cupping the back of his head.

"Welcome back, love."

Waking into this world wasn't so hard.

Thank you to everyone who stuck around during the long summer gap. I was just so busy and wrapped up in Ao3 and MP100. I hope the wait was worth it.