Styrofoam Plates

By: Hazelcough

You know: CSS is CLAMP's. And TRC is hopefully not a continuation of the series.

It was a scene I had dreaded since the beginning. But I went through with it anyways. His haughty smirk after the lights went down is, to this day, still burned to the folds of my tainted brain.

"I love you!" Like a lemur on crack, I leapt off the "holey" stairs – an action aided by special effects. The damn jerk was supposed to catch me on the other side – it was even part of the script! But the idiot stepped aside casually and let me crumple to the cold concrete.

It hurt, to say the least. But not in an emotional way, of course. No.

Director-san had to cut the scene early, freezing me in mid-jump. Kami-sama, I look like a dork.

He laughed about it through the entire credits portion of the film when we attended the premiere. I couldn't make it through my own movie without wanting to cry. He told me afterwards that he had wanted to cry too – because it was "so damn classic".

Am I masochistic? Do I enjoy subjecting myself to humiliation? The answer is no. Not at all. Sometimes you're forced to take on parts that are less than ideal.

Actually, the job wasn't all that bad. Tomoyo Daidouji-san was a sweetheart throughout the entire series (though she could be a tad scary at times), and Touya-kun played his part brilliantly. I'm quite jealous of his acting skills (though he admitted later that he's gay in real life too). It was the boy. The arrogant, hot-headed, jerk-of-a –

"Hey, are you going to eat that?"

The boy. The one who stood in front of me, a smirk playing at the edges of his perfect full lips. Yes, he's a "squee"-worthy figure. I won't lie about that, because someone else will most likely tell you. His delicious chocolate hair fell evenly above his thick eyebrows, creating a tousled effect that made girls – in the buffet we were eating at, at least – go fucking crazy.

Oh Kami-sama, what have I done to displease you? What the hell did I do to deserve a cast reunion dinner after the final movie? After I had finally been able to heave a breath of relief because I was finally leaving him? 'Kaa-san had even made me wear my low-cut olive drab halter dress. Sickening. (Well, at least Tomoyo-san liked it – she's the carbon copy of her character).

Director-san sure knows how to cast. (Though I've always had this…notion…that the movie and series were written for…us…hmm. I've always wondered why our names didn't change.)

Mokona-san (she would never give us her last name – kinda creepy) had applied our set makeup before we were allowed to see each other. Makeup artists are crazy like that, I suppose. Personally, I think she went a bit overboard. In fact, I think we all went overboard. Black tie event at a buffet? Only in Tomoeda, where the fanciest event hall is the local elementary school's gym.

And it's definitely her fault that I stood in front of Li Syaoran with my face caked with foundation and other slimy concoctions that should never be approved by any government sanitary agency (if those even exist. I'm rambling). So you can see how horribly low my expectations for the reunion were.

Now, if there's one word I can use to describe the whole of Syaoran…there isn't, actually. Jerk is too nice. Jackass is closer to the target word. But at the same time, he's sick-minded, arrogant, hot-headed (these words sound familiar…) and much, much more.

So after about five full minutes of gazing into each other's eyes, I decided to answer his question.

"No," I replied sharply, deciding to answer his question.

I apparently have beautiful emerald eyes that a person can get lost in, because his dazed replied was: "You apparently have beautiful emerald eyes that a person can get lost in, because I just completely drew a blank. What was my question?" His face-breaking grin widened.

For some reason, I couldn't remember. Was it because of his pathetic flirting?

"Uh. You asked if I wanted Styrofoam plates or paper plates."

Syaoran frowned. "But that's not a yes-or-no question…"

I felt my face heating up. "Well in that case, I want a paper plate." I grabbed a flimsy food-holder from the end of the metal buffet counter and held it up to my face with a grin. "It's the green choice," I added cheekily with an awkward giggle. Man, I'm really a dork.

And the worst part is, I don't even know why I'm screwing up so badly. I thought a few weeks of Syaoran-less bliss would rid me of my stutters and blushes – the habits I had to develop for my movie role, of course. And they did. Until now.

Must be bodily memories from all those days of filming. Must be.

Awkwardly, I shifted my head past his shoulder, pretending I actually had someone to look for – Yukito-kun and Touya-kun, to be exact. They were together, as always, at the opposite corner of the counter. I went into daydream mode. It's amazing what makeup can do to two tall boys. They're only about one year older than the majority of the cast, yet they looked like college students! (That's the point, I guess.) Syaoran, Tomoyo, and the rest of us "little kids" truly did look like sixth year students. Mokona-san can work magic with her tools.

I must have said that out loud; Syaoran snickered. "Kinomoto, you're so naïve."

Yeah. Did I mention that Li Syaoran switches to my family name as soon as the cameras stop rolling? If anyone had believed that a few months – no, years – of filming would have improved our hostile relationship, they were sadly mistaken. Time with each other had only fueled greater annoyance. Or so I hope…

My gaze snapped back to the smirking boy. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He shook his head patronizingly. "The scene at the end of the counter is quite R-rated, young lady."

That's when I realized I had been staring at Touya-kun and Yukito-kun's…tonsil-hockey session (to put it lightly). My face became redder, and I prayed to the heavens that my over-blushed and over-foundationed mask-of-a-face would cover the signs of embarrassment.

"I'm just as old as you are, Syaoran," I remarked lamely. "Fifteen is a perfectly mature age."

"So it is," he mused quietly, appearing to be in thought. His tone peeved me.

"Why the hell are you even talking to me?"

The simple – okay, so it wasn't that nicely stated – question seemed to knock him back.

"I…I…" Was that a…blush?

The awkwardness elevated, hanging over our heads like the scent of fresh vomit (which is what I wanted to create at the moment). My head started to spin.

So I made the lamest excuse in the history of excuses. "The food's getting cold, Syaoran. I'm hungry." With that, I turned towards the teriyaki chicken.

But I only stared at the clumps of orange and brown, clutching my paper plate. (I think I crumpled it a bit. Whoops. Sorry, trees.) I could feel his stare on my back. It tickled in a not-so-pleasant way.

"Ne, Sakura?" Syaoran fingered his plate nervously, staring at his shoes. There must've been a very enticing "manly" magazine stuck to the top of his expensive formal shoes. He hadn't moved for about…thirty minutes? (Then again, I had been rooted to the spot as well. What a scene we must've been.)

"Yeah?" I reluctantly twisted my body away from the still-warm food to meet his eyes (or at least attempt to). Why was his expression so damn familiar?

"I like you." I drowned.

Déjà vu…from a damn television series. Who knew that was possible?

Ohkawa Director-san sure knows how to cast. Perhaps even better than Mokona-san knows how to use her tools.

A/N: Post-second-movie crack, if you couldn't already tell. And yes, some names of the wonderful ladies of CLAMP were used.

It killed me to write in first person. New style experimentation, I suppose?

Flame, review, criticize.

I might write a second part, depending on reception.