Disclaimer: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles is the intellectual property of CLAMP.

Author's Note: When I did that song-writing-excercise for Tsubasa I came up with this idea for the song "Breaking the Habit" by Linkin Park. Some of them I decided to expand into One Shots and this was one.

Spoilers through to Infinity, obviously.

-Infinity-

Syaoran was getting used to traveling from one world to the next, was becoming accustomed to the feeling of liking or disliking things about one world or the next and not growing too attached because it would all be gone soon enough. He was getting used to the uncomfortable silences that hung in the air around him, the quickly averted glances, the politeness. It was making him sick, and he was getting used to it.

Somewhere inside, Syaoran understood that he couldn't deal with it properly. He knew he should have been stronger, his clone had been stronger, but he just felt sick. The way Sakura went out of her way to avoid him - made him feel sick. Fai's apologetic nod, apologizing for not being able to fake a smile - made him sick. Facing Kurogane made him sick.

Fighting for her in these tournaments was a twisted irony to Syaoran, a mockery to both of them. And at the close of each game, they retreated to their quarters in silent procession. Sakura would see to Fai's wounds first. An initial argument between them over who should and should not be tended first had ended in Sakura's favor and nothing more had been said of it. Kurogane waited patiently for his turn but Syaoran wrapped his own wounds while she was busy. It was just easier that way, if he didn't put her in the position where she had to deal with him.

Their meals came served to them. No longer did Fai cook dinner for them, gone were the days they had eaten meals together; experiences that Syaoran missed with a terrible ache even though he had never experienced them himself. Memories of happier times with the people around him, now frozen painfully in ice, haunted him. Mokona seemed to have been hit terribly by their collectively darkened mood, hopping anxiously from one of them to the next, torn by a feeling of uselessness.

After eating, generally with Mokona, Syaoran would excuse himself to bed, far too early, blaming the stress that constant fighting put on his long-unused body. In his bedroom, Syaoran could stare into the nothingness and drown in its darkness without feeling the need to pretend he was ok - not that it would have fooled anyone anyway.

Syaoran hated the name of this place. Infinity. It made him feel as though the pain he was feeling here would be never-ending, that they would simply remain as they were right now and never be happy again, never accept him, be forever in pain.

Syaoran knew, as he pulled at the bandages covering his arm, that he was not handling this well. Physical pain made it easy to push the emotional pain to the background. He knew how to deal with physical pain, he had been trained to fight since he could walk, emotional pain however was harder for him to ignore, harder to work through. He supposed if he had spent the years living his own life, he might have had more personal experience at it, and for that he might rightfully blame the man who had imprisoned him, but what good would that do him? That man wasn't here, he was.

Blood flowed with little encouragement from the relatively fresh wound causing an ache that Syaoran could hold on to.

He hoped that Fai was asleep and wouldn't smell it or wouldn't question.

It wasn't enough. Syaoran clawed at the wound, staining fingertips red.

Sakura would be upset. She would see it for what it was, another flaw in him.

Not enough. Syaoran set his hand beneath the cut and pulled down, wincing at the sharp pain.

Kurogane would hate him for being weak.

Not enough. Syaoran reached for his arm again when the door swung open, leaking the faintest of light from the hall.

Kurogane peered into the room and caught sight of Syaoran immediately. Being that it was Kurogane, there was no talking his way out of it and a predictable reaction followed instantly.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Kurogane threw the door open and crossed the room, dragging Syaoran up by the wrist in less time than it took Syaoran to process the situation or even blink.

"I thought we agreed on this." Kurogane growled, throwing him back on the bed so he could cross the room again to turn the light on and close the door.

Syaoran winced at the sudden brightness, suddenly overwhelmed by guilt as the brightness of the red trailing down his arm came into focus. He couldn't tell Kurogane he was sorry - again. That would only make things worse.

Kurogane made him scoot over and sat beside him on the mattress on the side of his injured arm, taking it with a gentleness that belied his irritation.

"I told you to stop doing this." Kurogane said, voice far more controlled, calmer as he lifted up Syaoran's arm and inspected the wound. With a sigh, Kurogane stood and turned back to him, making certain that he made eye contact. "Do not move." he ordered firmly. "Do not touch that arm until I get back. Do you understand?"

The brunette nodded solemnly and Kurogane left the room. Syaoran did as he was told until the other returned with a bowl of warm water and a wash cloth, taking a seat beside him again.

"I can…"

"Shut up."

Syaoran watched as Kurogane carefully cleaned the blood from his cut and then took his hand and cleaned his fingers one by one. It was embarrassing, the amount of care that the larger man took to fix his mistake.

"You should let the princess fix you up." Kurogane said, startling Syaoran slightly. He looked away from the cloth caressing his fingertips with a sudden flush. "I know it must be painful to face her but if you'd let her get close enough to worry over you she might start thinking of you as an individual."

"I'm…defective…" Syaoran whispered, choking on the word slightly.

"We're all defective." Kurogane replied, lifting his arm to wrap it in a fresh bandage.

"Syaoran, my clone, he…meant something to you. Don't you blame me for that?"

Kurogane finished tying off the wrapping and looked up, crimson meeting brown. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't want this anymore than…"

"That's not what I asked." Syaoran argued, his voice low as he pulled his arm back.

"I did." Kurogane answered him. "At first, when I needed someone to blame. Fai was dying, Syaoran…it was hard to believe he could have done that and you were conveniently suspicious at the time. I got over it. End of story. The others just need time. It isn't you. It's the whole damn thing. If you want to be closer to them, maybe you should just try harder."

Now Syaoran apologized. "I'm sorry."

Kurogane heaved a sigh and set his hand to rest on Syaoran's head, pulling him forward against his chest. "I don't feel like leaving right now. Get comfortable and go to sleep."

Syaoran looked up briefly before deciding not to ask questions and moved to Kurogane's side, leaning against his arm and pulling the blanket around his shoulder. Kurogane retrieved a book from the nightstand and threw it at the light switch near the door, throwing them into darkness and settled against the headboard silently.

With a small smile, Syaoran's eyes drifted shut and he tried to focus on the subtle rhythm of Kurogane's breathing instead of the dull throbbing in his arm. Just before sleep overtook him, a thought came to him fleetingly; that instead of using physical pain to drown out his emotions, it was now the emotions he was using to forget the pain.

Post whatevers: This was written a few months ago and I figured I'd better get it up before anything else happens in the manga. As always, if you liked, please review. Ja!