xxx. empty
brief note: despite what i said at the end of the last chapter, this is not the final one! the chapter actually ended up being so long i had to split it in two. chapter 31 will be the final chapter, with an epilogue to follow. enjoy!
"Sakura, please."
"You know I can't." Sakura rubbed at her eyes as she dumped a drawerful of clothes unceremoniously into a cardboard box. These days, she'd shed so many tears that she couldn't tell whether she was having an allergic reaction to the dust or whether she was about to start crying.
It had been nearly a month since Sakura had broken up with Syaoran and moved out, and despite all of Tomoyo's insistence that things would feel better within weeks, Sakura still felt almost as wretched as she had the day she'd left him.
After the necessary few days of lying in the dark when she'd first arrived at Tomoyo's, Sakura had pulled herself out of bed and, needing to feel some kind of purpose again, gone by the old diner she'd worked at before she'd taken a job with Glimmer all those months ago. Fortunately, Miki, her old boss, had been ecstatic to see her and welcomed her back with open arms.
Over the next few weeks, Sakura had gone into work nearly every day. It wasn't a writing job—or anywhere close to a fulfilling job—but Sakura knew she had to focus on the positives. At the very least, for the sake of her insomnia, she appreciated how exhausted it left her at the end of each day. If any of the diner's patrons recognized her from the news, they did not show it. And the routine of going into work helped her focus on moving forward, step by step. Never mind the tumble or two she took on the few occasions Syaoran had tried to reach out to her through a text message, most of which she'd ignored or responded to in a stilted manner, unsure of what to say or how to properly respond without cracking her very fragile heart open again.
So in all, Sakura thought, taking on the waitressing job had been the right decision. Perhaps most significantly, it was helping her get back on her feet so she could get out of Tomoyo's way. But when Sakura had finally been able to tell Tomoyo that she'd amassed just enough savings to put down a security deposit on a small apartment and that she could move out within a few days, her best friend had reacted not with relief, but rather with dismay.
"But why?" Tomoyo walked into the guestroom, pale lavender skirt falling gracefully along the bedspread as she sat down on the mattress.
It was a Saturday morning and Tomoyo had nowhere to be, and yet, she was impeccably dressed and made up as always. It was something about her friend in which Sakura usually took comfort—a constant on which she could always rely—but for some reason, today, it grated at her like everything else seemed to grate at her.
"There's plenty of room here," Tomoyo continued softly. "Why waste your savings on an apartment where you're going to be all by yourself?"
Sakura closed up the box and tore some packing tape off of the roll. "I couldn't do that to you, Tomoyo. You've already done so much for me as it is."
"I don't mind one bit. You know that."
"But that's not the point," Sakura said with a sigh.
The tape stuck to the wrong part of the box, and then her fingers, and then to itself. In frustration, Sakura tore the piece off entirely and crumpled it up before throwing it off to the side of the room. She sunk to her heels, her hands gripping the hair at her temples. How had everything turned into such a mess?
"Sakura..." Tomoyo crouched down onto the floor beside Sakura, one hand on her shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Sakura let out a throaty exhale that was supposed to be a laugh. She sat fully on the floor now and took in a deep breath, and Tomoyo followed her actions. "It's not just this stuff with Syaoran—although that sucks, too. But it's like... God, I just feel like such a failure. Everything blew up in my face and I can't blame anyone but myself."
"Hey, you are not a failure!"
Sakura snorted. "How can you say that in good conscience? I mean... It wasn't like my life was perfect when I was with Syaoran, but I feel like breaking up with him just threw everything that was wrong with me into high relief. Twenty-three, no job, no home, totally alone. Just a disappointment. And I did it all to myself."
Tomoyo sighed. "Sakura. Look at me."
Sakura turned her eyes to her friend's, and she was surprised to see not exasperation or even the kind half-smile she expected, but an uncharacteristic firmness there.
"You are not a disappointment, and deep down, you know that. When you broke up with Syaoran for his own good, you did something so incredibly difficult. You could have stayed in a life of easy comfort, arguably for the rest of your days, but you didn't want it to be at the expense of Syaoran's happiness. It was the ultimate act of love. Even now, after he's texted you a few times, you haven't answered him, no matter how badly you wanted to. I don't think any other woman in your position would have done the same thing."
Sakura opened her mouth to protest, but Tomoyo shook her head and kept going. "As for your job, your home, and being alone—like you said, you're twenty-three. We're so young, Sakura. We have lots of time to figure things out. I know you'll find something out there for you, and in the meantime, you have a home here and a family here in me. You're not alone, and you're not a failure. You're just opening a new chapter where you have to do a hard reset."
Sakura scrubbed at her eyes again, knowing this time exactly why she was tearing up, and threw her arms around her best friend. "Have I ever told you how amazing you are?"
Tomoyo giggled. "A few times. This talk is about you and how amazing you are, though, so let's keep focused for now, okay?"
Sakura laughed, pulling back. "Deal."
"So now that we've gotten that out of the way, can you please stay with me? You're not an imposition, I promise. And I'm at Eriol's half the time anyway, and when I'm here, the apartment feels way too big to be in alone."
Sakura glanced over at the boxes she'd packed sitting atop the bed. Tomoyo was right—literally the only reason Sakura could think of to justify moving out was her own pride. In a time like this, that seemed silly. "Can I at least pay you rent?"
Tomoyo shook her head. "I absolutely refuse to take any money from you. But you're a far better cook than I am, so do you think you could make us dinner a couple of times a week?"
Sakura smiled. "Done. But I'm going to find a way to pay you back, I promise."
Tomoyo stood, brushing off her hands. "Now, let's get these clothes out of these silly boxes. And since you're moving in, I feel like we should spruce up this room a little—"
"Don't you dare spend any money on me," Sakura warned with a laugh, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.
"Jesus, Syaoran. Did you get any sleep last night?"
Syaoran glanced up at Meiling as the makeup artist dabbed concealer under his eyes. "Does it look like I didn't?"
Syaoran already knew what the answer to Meiling's question would be; he felt it in his bones. He was now getting ready to perform on his seventh show this week, and he was so exhausted that he thought he might retch if he inhaled too deeply. Over the years, as he'd been on tour or performed in a long promotional cycle or spent ungodly hours for multiple days in a row on set, he'd experienced this kind of bone-tiredness before. With careful management of what little rest time he had, though, he'd managed to make it through. But paired with the lifelessness he'd felt in the month-and-a-half since he and Sakura had broken up and his desire to stay active at all times to keep his mind off of her, this level of exhaustion had morphed into a new kind of beast.
"There must be an inch of concealer on your face and I can still see purple under your eyes. What were you doing?"
Syaoran grunted. "I did try to sleep. I tried for four hours."
Meiling's expression softened. "Can you still perform today?"
"Don't be silly. Of course I can."
"Syaoran... This has to stop. You're exhausted. You're going to work yourself sick at this rate."
"What am I supposed to do?" Syaoran said, sitting up straighter in his chair. The makeup artist fluttered around to his other side so he could see Meiling more clearly. "Tell Matsura again that I need to go on yet another hiatus?"
Meiling frowned. "I mean, if that's what it came down to, then yes... But how about you start by getting some sleep? And taking breaks where you can. There aren't many gaps in your schedule right now, and I heard you were in the studio all last weekend. You don't need to put in that kind of overtime right now, you know. All the promo is doing its thing. You're already back at number one on the charts."
Syaoran shook his head. "I am trying to sleep—every night, I swear—but it's like, if I even get a second with my thoughts…" His mind wandered to the few nights in the last month where, in a couple of moments of weakness, he'd texted Sakura, only to receive no response the next day—or, perhaps worse: short, distant responses likely crafted to humor him out of kindness. I'm doing fine, thank you for asking. How about you?
"I know," Meiling said, leaning against the counter of the vanity. "But you can't keep going like this forever. What are you going to do when promo ends? How will you keep running from yourself then?"
Syaoran looked up at her. "I'll schedule a tour," he said half-jokingly.
Meiling snorted and rolled her eyes, but the worried expression didn't leave her face. "Just be careful, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll take some sleep meds tonight and make sure I'm out for a full twelve hours, if that'll make you feel better. Nothing on the schedule till late in the afternoon tomorrow."
"Thank you, that would make me feel a lot better."
The makeup artist finished and excused herself from the room, and Syaoran and Meiling looked at his reflection in the mirror. "You weren't joking about the bags."
"When do I joke?"
Syaoran let out a chuckle and rose from the chair. His vision swam for a moment, and he gripped the vanity to keep from swaying.
"Whoa, Syaoran—" Meiling grabbed his arm. "What the hell was that? Are you okay?"
Syaoran straightened up, brows furrowed. He shook his head to clear it. "Weird. I'm fine now."
"God, are you sure? It's really not too late to cancel."
"That's ridiculous. We have like, five minutes till I'm supposed to go on. It's a short set," Syaoran said, putting on his most reassuring voice. "I'll be fine. I promise. And as soon as I come offstage, I'll get in the car and head straight home and pass out."
Meiling chewed her lower lip. "I don't like this."
Syaoran leaned down so his eyes were level with Meiling's, his hands on her shoulders. "I'll be fine," he repeated.
The stage manager knocked and opened the door then, and taking his cue, Syaoran waved Meiling goodbye and followed the manager out of the dressing room toward the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Syaoran heard the host boom over the speakers, "for the first time in over a year, we're pleased to welcome back to our stage, Syaoran Li!"
The crowd erupted, and Syaoran walked through the threshold onstage, smiling and waving at the audience as he tried not to squint too hard at the blinding stage lights. It was a fifteen-minute set of songs followed by a five-minute interview, and Syaoran was so tired, he was already ready for it to be over. Meiling was right; he really did need to rest when he had a spare moment. What had he been thinking, pulling those all-nighters in the studio the past weekend?
"Good evening, everyone," he said into the mic as he strapped his guitar around himself. "I missed you all. Did you miss me?"
The crowd roared, and Syaoran felt the familiar thrill of adrenaline crawl up his spine, briefly jolting him out of his exhaustion.
He began to play a few chords on his guitar, and the band behind him followed suit, and Syaoran began to belt out the words to an old single—his biggest hit before his life had gone off the rails with Mizuki. He'd been playing his new single so much that Matsura had thought it best to preempt the general public's weariness of it by mixing it up with old favorites every once in a while. It seemed to be a good choice; the audience was swaying and singing along, a sight he would never get too used to seeing.
But God, he was tired. He'd been saying all those things about going home and resting to placate Meiling, but it all sounded more enticing by the second. Sleeping had been hard, melodramatic as it felt to think this, because his traitorous brain couldn't seem to produce any dreams that didn't have Sakura in them. But the alternative—playing to an audience of hundreds while running on fumes—just wasn't manageable. He'd just have to try harder from now on to rest.
The song ended, and as the crowd applauded, Syaoran took a moment to reach down by his mic and take a swig of water from the bottle sitting there. The lights on this stage were uncannily bright, and so, so hot. He leaned into the mic to announce the next song he was about to play, but strangely, he was having difficulty getting any words out. Instead, he felt a fuzzy jolt of pain and a wave of nausea roll through his body, down his head and into his throat and through his chest. As the bottle of water fell onto the floor and Syaoran's vision started to go black, he thought vaguely that he should have capped the bottle before dropping it so as not to spill. Just before his head hit the ground, he heard a scream offstage, and then he let go.
Sakura fought back a yawn as she cleared dirty dishes from a table and carried them into the kitchen. They were just an hour away from closing the diner, and Sakura was so exhausted that she wasn't sure if she'd even make it that long. She had promised she would meet Tomoyo out for drinks after work, but she wondered now how disappointed her friend would be if she bailed and went straight home to sleep.
As Sakura walked toward the table she'd just cleared with a rag in hand, she mentally willed the couple sitting at the lone occupied table to finish eating and leave, but they appeared to be taking their time, eyes glued to the television on the far wall of the restaurant. What were they watching so intently, anyway? Sakura typically tuned it out, as the TV was usually either blaring the news or daytime soap operas—hardly interesting enough to warrant such rapturous attention, she thought.
"Earlier this evening, rock superstar Syaoran Li collapsed onstage while performing on Evening Breeze."
Sakura's eyes widened, and she felt her pulse pick up immediately. Her breath hitched as she looked up from the table she was wiping down toward the TV. Footage of someone being carted into an ambulance, surrounded by cameras, played on the screen, and Sakura's hands flew to her mouth as she caught a glimpse of Syaoran's face and hair, his head lolling lifelessly as the stretcher jostled around.
"Representatives from Li's label state that he has been fighting insomnia and exhaustion from his intense promotional schedule for the last month. He was taken to The University of Tokyo Hospital for treatment. Netizens are rallying in support of the singer, applauding his efforts after a year of failed comebacks. Li's representatives were not able to provide any further comment at this time."
Sakura felt like she couldn't breathe. Her pulse was racing now, jumping out of her wrist and her throat, her head pounding on pace along with it.
Oh, no. Oh, Syaoran—
She felt it all at once—her throat closing up, her hands sweating, her neck tingling, the room spinning. She dropped the rag on the table and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it before leaning against it and sliding to the floor.
It was like a fire alarm was going off in her head, throwing everything into chaos. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her wrists and her ears; sweat was beading at her temples, under her arms, coating her hands, her vision blurry and her mouth dry. Her chest heaved with exertion as she tried and failed to inhale more oxygen, her breaths cutting off harshly.
She shut her eyes and saw Syaoran on the gurney, saw Syaoran looking down at her with so much love and hurt in his eyes as he'd told her he would come to her if she ever needed him, saw the texts she'd ignored because she'd been trying not to hurt anymore herself. Trying to understand why she suddenly felt like there was a gaping black hole in her chest again, she let out a sob and hugged her arms around her stomach.
Sakura went through the steps logically in her head, attempting desperately to ground herself: Syaoran had collapsed, which meant he wasn't doing well. She was terrified for him. She wanted to go to him. She couldn't. And when he'd reached out before, she had ignored him. What if he'd been trying to tell her he was sick or unwell, and she'd neglected him? No, she couldn't think like that. He was an adult with plenty of people around him who were looking out for him. They had ended their relationship, and she had the right to guard her heart.
It didn't help. The guilt was suddenly eating its way into her heart, ravenous and unstoppable. Sakura let out another gasping breath and wiped the tears from her eyes, only for her vision to blur promptly with more of them. God, her chest hurt. She wanted to find him and be by his side, make sure he was eating and sleeping properly. She wanted to be with him. It hurt. Would this ever end?
"Sakura?"
Sakura startled as a knock came through the door, followed by Miki's voice. "Sakura, are you okay?"
Letting out a shaky breath, Sakura pulled herself up onto wobbly legs. She opened the door and stepped back. "M-Miki, I'm sorry—I know there are still customers—"
Miki took one glance at her, and her brows furrowed immediately in sympathy. "Honey. The customers paid and left twenty minutes ago. You've been in there for half an hour."
"God. I'm so sorry."
"You're fine, seriously. But why don't you come out and help me close up? I'll make you something to eat, and then I think you need to tell me what's really going on."
"Sorry. I know this is a far cry from the fun night out you'd planned," Sakura said despondently as Tomoyo poured a cup of tea for Sakura and sat on the sofa beside her, sipping her own. Kero lay at their feet, waiting eagerly for Sakura to feed him one of the crackers that Tomoyo had set out before them on the coffee table.
"Don't be silly," Tomoyo chided. "Loud noises and crowds and alcohol are not what the body needs after an anxiety attack!"
Sakura tried to smile as she looked down into her mug. When she'd shown back up at Tomoyo's apartment after work, and Tomoyo had seen her, her friend hadn't even needed to ask; she'd just ushered Sakura inside and told her to go shower and change into pajamas so they could talk in comfort.
"What would I do without you, Tomoyo?"
"Plenty," Tomoyo said soothingly. "But I'd like to think your closet would be a little bit less fabulous without me."
Sakura laughed, genuinely this time. "I have no doubt that'd be the case."
"Do you have to go into work tomorrow?"
Sakura shook her head. "Miki said I could take the day, but I don't know if that'd be a good idea. I think being alone with my own thoughts would be harder than going into work and acting like things are normal."
"Well, I'm glad she's being so understanding," Tomoyo said. "Why don't you sleep on it and decide in the morning?"
Sakura nodded.
"So... How are you feeling about it? Have you reached out to him?"
"No. I—of course, I want to... I want to more than anything. But…" Sakura shook her head and let out a shaky sigh. "I'm just scared. I don't know why."
"I think that's normal, Sakura," Tomoyo said gently, leaning over to look Sakura in the eye. "You've been trying to move on, which is already such a hard process when your ex isn't the most famous person in the country. And now, reaching out when both of you are even more vulnerable than you were would really open up the possibility of hurting yourself all over again."
Sakura stared into her cup again, trying to fight back the shame flooding her mind. "Yeah."
They were quiet for a little while, and Sakura could feel Tomoyo's eyes on her as she reached down to scratch Kero's ears.
"Do you want me to ask Eriol how he's doing?"
Sakura whipped her head up and looked at Tomoyo. "Oh, Tomoyo—could you? Would it be too much?"
Tomoyo shook her head. "Absolutely not! I'm happy to do that." She picked up her phone. "I'll text him now."
Sakura smiled. "Thank you so much. I think," she said slowly, "in the meantime, for a while, I'm really going to try to avoid Syaoran in the media. I know that'll be hard, since he's everywhere. But the less I see of him now, the sooner I can... I can hear news like this and not completely freak out."
Tomoyo gave her a kind smile, but Sakura saw concern in her friend's eyes. Sakura could hear it in her own voice: she didn't believe she could do it. But she also couldn't hyperventilate in a bathroom every time she heard something about Syaoran struggling, or—even though the thought made her gut twist—happily finding love with someone else. So, even if she didn't think she could do it, she had to try.
"Was any of that really necessary?" Syaoran said, and then he grimaced. He was speaking so slowly, as if he'd had just a little bit too much to drink, and it took a lot of the punch out of his words.
"I told you a million times," Meiling bit out from the front seat, "you hit your head when you fell. You needed to get checked out. And you were unconscious for a scary amount of time."
"Just a few minutes," Syaoran grumbled. "It hardly warranted a trip to the hospital."
"'Just a few minutes'—Syaoran, you didn't even wake up until you were in the ambulance! I thought—seriously, I thought something horrible had happened to you—"
"But it didn't, and I'm fine!"
"Would you just shut up?" Meiling shouted, twisting around from the front seat to look at him. "Do you know how fucking terrifying it was to watch you pass out cold onstage? You might not give a shit about whether or not you're doing okay, but I do!"
Syaoran's brows rose as he saw the console lights in the car reflected through the sudden tears in Meiling's eyes, and he held up his hands, his stomach suddenly sour with remorse. "Hey, don't—I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be dismissive. I'm just... I guess I'm embarrassed. I didn't want to cause a scene."
"Well, if you start taking better care of yourself, then you won't anymore," Meiling huffed, although her voice had softened. She discreetly lifted the back of her index finger to her eyes.
Syaoran let out a soft sigh, leaning his head against the headrest. Guilt mixed in with the mortification and exhaustion he felt. He closed his eyes. "Okay. I am sorry."
"It's okay," Meiling said, not sounding like it was okay at all. She paused, and then said softly, "You must be tired."
That much was true. Syaoran could not wait to get into bed. The fluids at the hospital had helped, admittedly. He was still exhausted, but at least he wasn't feeling that bitter wave of nausea with each inhalation anymore. "Yeah."
"Eriol's asking about you," Meiling said. "Can he come see you tomorrow?"
"I have that performance at Pop Showtime," Syaoran mumbled, opening one eye.
"Don't be absurd. I cleared your schedule."
Syaoran opened his mouth to protest, but then, feeling the tiredness in his bones again, he stopped himself. Instead, he murmured a "thank you."
Syaoran heard Meiling whisper something to Wei, and then he drifted off.
"Well, you certainly look like you've had better days."
Syaoran scooted over on the sofa to make room for Eriol, pulling away the nest of blankets from the hours he'd spent dozing there all day. "Sorry about the mess."
Eriol sat down beside Syaoran, dug something out of his briefcase—a tall, skinny can of cider, still cold—and handed it to him. He pulled one out for himself and popped the tab.
"Thanks," Syaoran mumbled, opening his and taking a sip. The sharp, cold bite of the carbonation woke him up a little.
"So," Eriol said, after taking a sip out of his own can. "How are you feeling?"
"Like ass," Syaoran admitted with a soft laugh. "But don't tell Meiling that."
Eriol scoffed. "Meiling already knows that, you dunce."
Syaoran shrugged.
"Everyone was really worried about you," Eriol said quietly, his tone careful.
"Everyone?"
"You know. Meiling, your team, Matsura. Tomoyo and me." He paused. "Sakura."
Syaoran's head snapped up and he looked over at Eriol with incredulous eyes. "Did she contact you?"
Eriol shook his head. "No. I don't think she ever would… She won't even come out of her room when I visit Tomoyo's apartment, you know? I think it's just hard for her." He paused, then added, "But Tomoyo told me she's been worried sick about you."
Syaoran leaned his elbows on his knees, running both hands through his hair. The thought of Sakura, watching the news reports in horror, crying and fretting, ate at him. "I don't want her to worry."
"Then take better care of yourself," Eriol offered, not unkindly.
Syaoran hated himself for saying this, but before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "I'd thought, maybe, she would text me and check in."
The disappointment was far more raw than he cared to admit.
Syaoran felt a hand on his arm and looked up at Eriol, who was gazing at him with what looked like thinly veiled concern.
"Syaoran. I know you miss her, and I have no doubt she misses you, too. But this breakup has been making you both sick for weeks now, and I think, if Sakura is trying to put some distance between you guys, you've gotta follow her cue."
Syaoran swallowed a lump in his throat he hadn't even realized had been forming and fought back a burning in his eyes. He blinked and looked back down at his hands. "Yeah. You're probably right."
Eriol was silent for a long time, and then Syaoran heard him take a long swig of his can of cider.
"Listen," Eriol said, his tone hopeful, "you have no idea what could happen in the future. In the meantime, focus on your work. This is the bounceback you wanted for so long. You're about to see success in spades. Capitalize on it, do things you want to do. Live your life the way Sakura would want you to live it. And evaluate what makes you happy."
Syaoran met his friend's eyes again. Eriol made it sound so easy. But Syaoran supposed he had a team in place that was, in fact, supposed to make it as easy as possible for him. And when he thought about it that way, the self-pity he'd been nursing suddenly felt revolting, not comforting as it had before.
He nodded. "Right. I guess it's time to pick up and move forward."
Eriol smiled. "There you go. But before you do that..."
"Hey!" Syaoran shouted as Eriol shoved him back into the sofa. He sat back up. "What was that for?"
Eriol chuckled, picking up his empty can and standing up. "Get some rest, man. Can't conquer the world on just an hour of sleep and IV fluids, no matter how strong you are."
"Sakura, what is this stuff?"
Sakura inhaled a ball of dust and sneezed violently before turning around. "What?"
Tomoyo was opening a large, unlabeled cardboard box. "This one's really heavy."
Several weeks had passed since Sakura had resolved to make a concerted effort to cut herself off from anything pertaining to Syaoran. Although the first week had been difficult—especially with his promotional material seemingly everywhere—she'd gradually come to discover what she could and couldn't watch or listen to, and then with practice, she'd even learned to tune him out when she anticipated coverage about him in the media. She wasn't sure why she was so surprised it was working, but much to her shock, she was feeling more like her old self every day, even if it was little by little. Now that she'd settled into her place at Tomoyo's and the thickest of the depressive fog had cleared a bit, she and Tomoyo had decided to unpack the few remaining boxes of Sakura's things and redo Tomoyo's office to make a space for Sakura as well.
Sakura made her way over to Tomoyo just in time to see the glint of metal in the now opened box, and her breath hitched a bit when she realized it was full of the podcast recording tools that Meiling had brought by during the earliest days after the breakup.
Tomoyo glanced back at Sakura. "Keep it in the box?"
Sakura shook her head. She rubbed her nose, still itchy from the dust. "Might as well take it out."
Together, they pulled out all of the equipment and laid it out on the empty desk they'd set up for Sakura.
"This must have cost a fortune," Tomoyo whispered.
Sakura nodded, and then, with a sigh, she crouched, resting her weight on the balls of her feet. "I never even touched it, you know. We broke up maybe a month after he got all this for me."
Tomoyo was suddenly on the floor with her, her head tilting. "You okay?"
Sakura pulled her lips into a smile. For once, it didn't sting so badly to be reminded of the loss. "Yeah."
They stood, looking again at the equipment and not moving or speaking for some time.
"You know," Tomoyo said, "since you have some time these days, in between the diner and the job hunt, you could work on a podcast."
Sakura snorted. "And cover what? It's going to have to be at least another few months until I can run around on the streets talking to strangers without expecting to be accosted again."
"Hm... You could do a podcast where you don't have to interview people."
"Then it would have to be about something I have a lot of experience in, or at least something that gave me a lot of stories to tell."
Tomoyo raised an eyebrow. "Well, you and I both know that the last year or so of your life has given you plenty of stories to tell."
Sakura laughed half-heartedly. "I don't know. I don't want to peddle that experience to other people for some cheap publicity."
"Sure. But it wasn't just about dating a celebrity, you know. You also spent the better portion of last year trying to chase your dreams, working in a job you had no experience in to try to get a leg up in the industry you do want to be in, meeting someone and falling in love... Those are all common experiences that you can add a unique perspective on without naming names or even getting too specific about your circumstances." Tomoyo paused, and then lit up. "I know! You could do a podcast about dating! You could make an alias and be an anonymous host."
Sakura frowned. "But, Tomoyo, it'd be one podcast out of thousands of already existing ones about dating."
"So?"
"So, I'd have nothing new to add..."
"Sure, you would. You just dated a celebrity!"
"But I can't say that."
"You don't have to! Wouldn't talking about it without really saying that be kind of fun? And right now, you're not trying to get exposure, anyway. You're just practicing."
Sakura pressed her lips together. The idea of a trial run was tempting and comforting. But the thought of going into this herself, especially when the topic involved dating—something that should have been fun, dynamic, and entertaining to talk about—was a little less appealing.
She looked at Tomoyo. "Even so, I can't do this alone… I need a partner."
"Sure, we can find you a partner!" Tomoyo said enthusiastically, already pulling out her phone. "I bet there are some colleagues of mine who would love to—"
Sakura laughed. "No, silly, I mean you."
Tomoyo's eyes widened. "Me?"
"You've been dating, too! And we've both had different experiences. We can play off of each other and offer different perspectives." Sakura paused. "And if we keep ourselves anonymous, you have nothing to worry about with respect to people at work or anyone else you don't want to share it with finding out."
Tomoyo pursed her lips. "I don't know the first thing about podcasting, really."
Sakura grinned, feeling excited for the first time in what felt like months. "Me, either. But give me like, a month. I'll do some research and get the show going if you're in. If we have even one listener, I'll consider it a massive success on our parts."
Tomoyo giggled and shrugged her shoulders. "Are you kidding? I haven't seen you this happy about anything in so long! If you want it, you're going to get it, Sakura. Let's do this."
The next few weeks were an invigorating and exhausting whirlwind for Sakura, who hadn't felt this busy with a project since she'd been working freelance all those months ago before her life had imploded. She'd work all day at the diner and then come home and read up on producing podcasts, foraging through articles, forums, and videos. On her commutes to and from work, she listened diligently to podcasts both popular and not, trying to get a sense of what her and Tomoyo's own narrative style should sound like, the format the show should take, how many minutes each episode should be.
The activity, Sakura found, helped tremendously in pulling her out of her depression. Even though the podcast involved writing and talking about dating and digging up memories of Syaoran for content, the fact that it was for the purpose of creating something she enjoyed made it feel more cathartic and less painful.
Tomoyo's enthusiasm in joining in on the project also made the entire endeavor Sakura's favorite part of the day. Much to Sakura's delight, her friend dove in and took Sakura's directions with ease, coming up with her own ideas as well that made the show shape up to be something unique and truly representative of the both of them. As they wrote the script and practiced trading dialogue back and forth, Sakura came to find that the show was very much reflective of an intimate conversation between the two of them, and although themes around dating were the focus, they ended up discussing quite a bit about their lives outside of dating as well.
Finally, the day to record their first episode had arrived, and although it happened to be on a day where Sakura had worked an eight-hour shift and Tomoyo had completed a full day of work in the office, both girls were giddy and excited to bring all of their hard work to fruition. Sakura was practically bouncing in her seat in Tomoyo's office, which they'd partially converted into a makeshift studio.
"Ready?" Sakura looked over at Tomoyo, who slipped her headphones on and gave Sakura a thumbs-up.
Sakura hit the record button, and then drawing in a deep breath, she began. "Hello to everyone out there, and welcome to the inaugural episode of our podcast! I'm your host, Mio."
"And I'm your other host, Mayo," Tomoyo chimed in, winking at Sakura. "We are here to talk about dating in the modern world—more specifically, in Tokyo, since that's where we both reside."
"While we're aware there are quite a few podcasts out there about dating," Sakura said, "we think our own experiences could add an interesting perspective. We're here to talk about different aspects of modern dating from our own experiences, which are very different from each other's—I myself am more of a serial monogamist who's recently single—"
"And I'm someone who has gone on many, many one-off dates and am now in my first long-term relationship. And over time, assuming we actually get any listeners, we'd love to take questions from you guys and turn this into a sort of Q&A column."
Sakura nodded enthusiastically at Tomoyo, as if they were on a live show where an audience could see them. Tomoyo beamed at Sakura, clearly enjoying herself as well, and leaned into the mic. "Well, Mio, shall we get started? Today, we wanted to start out with a topic everyone can commiserate on: the pitfalls of trying to meet someone new in the modern age..."
Knowing herself and having done the research, Sakura had expected she would agonize over editing the first podcast episode a little, but she'd not expected it to consume her life the way it did. After she and Tomoyo had wrapped the recording, which had only taken a day, followed by half a day of re-recording some portions, Sakura had sat at her desk every night after coming home from the diner to work for two to three hours on editing the product. It wasn't even that the podcast was so long that she had all that much to edit; it was her own perfectionism that drove the late nights and the revisions over revisions. Sakura would play and replay what she thought was the final cut, only to suddenly feel the need to edit some more.
On her fifth night of editing, Tomoyo poked her head into the office. "Do you have a minute? Someone's here to see you."
Sakura frowned, wondering who it could be. She'd been such a recluse lately that any option besides Tomoyo herself would have been a surprise, and she felt a painful, sickening twist of anxiety squeeze her gut. She nodded, saving her work before standing and following Tomoyo out of the office.
When she saw Meiling standing in Tomoyo's living room, a cardboard box beside her on the coffee table, Sakura's heart sped up even more quickly than she'd expected. She'd been studiously avoiding not just images of Syaoran, but also anyone who threatened to remind her that he still existed—Eriol and Meiling, in particular. What could she be doing here?
"Meiling?"
Meiling, whose back had been turned as she'd been observing the photos on Tomoyo's bookshelves, whirled around, a smile on her face—and then it fell when she saw Sakura's expression.
"Okay, okay, look, I know you're avoiding me for a reason, and I've really been trying to respect your space, even though Syaoran isn't the only one who misses you, okay?" Meiling said, raising her hands up. "But Tomoyo called me and said she thought you needed to see me and that it'd be good for you. I'd have left you alone otherwise, I promise."
Tomoyo gave Sakura an apologetic look.
Sakura wasn't sure what part of that she should focus on more, and numbly, she walked farther into the room, still unsure what to say.
Meiling took a few steps toward Sakura. "You know I don't say stuff like this often," she muttered, frowning, "but I missed you."
"Um—I missed you, too," Sakura said in a small voice, feeling like she was floating out of her body. This was Meiling, who saw Syaoran every day. Who had probably seen him today.
"Sakura," Tomoyo began, her voice soft with worry. "We—"
"Well, good," Meiling said, and then, almost as if she needed something to do, she turned to the cardboard box on the coffee table and began rifling through it. She took in a deep breath as she stood back up. "Now that I'm here, we're making ramen. We're making lots of ramen. You look like you haven't eaten in five years."
Before anyone could say anything further, Meiling pulled out four packs of ramen in each hand and marched over to the kitchen.
At that, Sakura snapped out of her trance. This was also Meiling, her friend, and she realized as she heard Meiling begin to bang around Tomoyo's kitchen unceremoniously how much she had missed her.
"Sakura, are you all right?" Tomoyo whispered. "I'm so sorry, I know this must be a huge shock, but—I just thought—sometimes, I don't know what to say, and I think Meiling could—"
Sakura let out a long breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and she shook her head. "It's okay. I really missed Meiling. I'm happy to see her." And as the words came out of her mouth, she realized she meant them.
"Good," Tomoyo breathed. "So you're okay?"
Sakura nodded. "I'll be fine. Thank you for doing this… For thinking of me."
"Okay, not to break up the love fest over there," Meiling called, "but where in God's name do you keep your pots?"
Tomoyo and Sakura scurried over to the kitchen to assist, and before long, Meiling was placing two massive pots of ramen on Tomoyo's dining table as Sakura set bowls and chopsticks and Tomoyo was pouring drinks. When they sat down and Sakura took her first bite, she nearly cried with joy; Meiling had been the ramen aficionado of the three of them, and Sakura remembered suddenly just how much she'd missed her friend's cooking.
"Well," Tomoyo said, setting her chopsticks down, a smile on her face, "I think it's time for a toast."
"Always down for a toast," Meiling said, her mouth half-full. She lifted her glass. "To what are we toasting?"
"Well, you being here, for one," Tomoyo said, and then her eyes drifted mischievously to Sakura. "But also, to our podcast."
"Podcast?" Meiling cried delightedly. "So you are working on one? What's it about?"
Sakura nodded, caught off-guard at the suddenness of Tomoyo's announcement. "Dating."
"Holy shit. This is going to be so good," Meiling said with a grin. "The both of you?"
Tomoyo nodded. "We're co-hosts."
Sakura was quick to add, "We're still working on putting out the first episode, so nothing to celebrate just yet."
"Sakura's been up till all hours of the night editing," Tomoyo said proudly. "It's sure to be a hit."
Sakura blushed. "I mean, I wouldn't say that—it's just for fun—"
"Nonsense, it's already sounding so good!" Tomoyo said. "I can tell."
"What are you going to call it?" Meiling asked.
Sakura and Tomoyo shared a grimace.
"Honestly, we're not sure—we've been struggling quite a lot with the name," Tomoyo admitted.
"For podcasts like that, I feel like something really on the nose is best," Meiling said, leaning back and taking a sip of her drink. "Ah! How about 'Where the fuck is he?'"
Sakura nearly spat out her food laughing. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Like, 'The love of my life—where the fuck is he?' You know? That's how I feel, anyway. I'm sure I'm not the only one in Tokyo."
Tomoyo laughed. "It does have a certain ring to it… But I think we might limit our reach a little if we curse in the podcast title, don't you think?"
Meiling shrugged. "Censor it, then! Add some asterisks and exclamation marks in place of the curse word."
Sakura pulled out her phone and wrote it in a text to herself.
Where the F?*! is He?!
She laughed and held her phone up to Meiling and Tomoyo to show them. "It looks pretty good…"
"Well, looks like we have a contender," Tomoyo said, grinning. "Thanks for your contributions, Meiling."
"Of course! And… Could you guys share it with me when you post it? I'd love to listen," Meiling asked.
Sakura looked up at Meiling in surprise. Her ruby eyes were wide and earnest, with no indication that she was joking. "Really?"
Meiling nodded. "I'm always looking for new stuff to listen to, and God knows I could use all the dating help I can get."
"I—yeah, of course," Sakura squeaked, excited at the thought of already having a dedicated listener. She paused. "You'll have to actually tell me what you think. Like, you can't just be nice because we're friends."
Meiling scoffed. "Do you know me at all?"
Tomoyo and Sakura laughed.
"Fair," Sakura said, and then her smile fell as she bit her lip. She set down her chopsticks. "Um... Do me a favor, please, and promise not to tell Syaoran about it?"
Sakura could feel Tomoyo's eyes on her then as Meiling looked up from her bowl, her lips set in a soft frown.
"Just—if I know there's even a chance he's listening... I don't know if I'll have the nerve to do this," Sakura said quietly.
After another moment of quiet, Meiling nodded. "Sure. Of course. It'll be our secret."
Sakura smiled. "Thank you, Meiling."
Meiling waved a hand dismissively. "A girl's gotta have her privacy, anyway. I don't need to share everything with him. He knows too much about my life as it is."
Tomoyo giggled. "So we're thinking of putting it out this Sunday."
Meiling raised her eyebrows. "So soon?"
"Well, Sakura's been working nonstop. I fear that if we delay releasing it even more, she'll wither away."
Meiling laughed. "Well, I'm sure I won't be disappointed. I'm really looking forward to this, guys! And to our next dinner?" She added, eyes drifting over to Sakura in question.
Sakura looked up from her bowl again. Did she want to see Meiling again in the near future? If she was being honest with herself, there was a warmth in her belly that had nothing to do with the ramen. Instead of causing panic, Meiling's presence made her feel like a missing part of her had returned.
She nodded and smiled. "Yes. Definitely looking forward to our next dinner."
"Sakura. Sakura! Wake up!"
"Whuh—" Sakura sat up and rubbed her eyes, blinking them open to see Tomoyo, still pajama-clad, bounding onto her bed and shoving her phone into her face.
"Look at this!"
Sakura blinked a few more times at the screen until a number came into focus. 442.
"What is this?" Sakura croaked at Tomoyo.
"The number of people who have downloaded our podcast. It's only been a week!"
"That's—that's good, right?" Sakura mumbled, trying to remember what she'd read about podcast downloads.
"Sakura, that's fantastic. It puts us in the top ten percent of podcasts in the country. In our first week!"
Sakura felt something warm, vaguely familiar, spreading from her stomach and into her chest and out to her limbs. She realized then that she was smiling. This was joy.
Tomoyo was beaming, too, and she threw her arms around Sakura. "I am so proud of you."
Sakura felt herself sinking into her friend's embrace. "What do you mean? We did it together."
Tomoyo pulled back and shook her head. "I partook in it after you pulled it all together on your own. As far as I'm concerned, it's your show."
Sakura laughed. "No way! We did this together. And we'll keep doing it together."
"Well, that doesn't stop me from being proud of you! Picking yourself up from the last few weeks, dusting yourself off, and rising up like this is not an easy thing. You're remarkable, Sakura."
"If you keep this up, I'm going to combust from embarrassment," Sakura said, giggling. "So what do we do now?"
"I'm thinking a celebratory breakfast... And then, we record episode two?"
Sakura grinned. "Music to my ears."
"Welcome to our latest episode of Breakfast with Shizuka Kumi! As always, I'm your host, Shizuka Kumi, and sitting beside me today is a very special guest: Syaoran Li!"
The studio audience applauded, and Syaoran stood and bowed before he sat back down at the table.
"Now, Syaoran, you've never been on this show before."
Syaoran nodded, smiling. "That's correct. Thank you for having me."
"Of course! Thank you for coming on," Shizuka said, tousling a hand through wild, wavy red hair. "We've prepared a taste of home for you. I hope you'll like it."
"It looks delicious, actually. Just like something I'd have before going off to school in the mornings."
Before him lay a spread of breakfast foods he'd find in any corner diner in Hong Kong: noodle soup with egg and spam, buns with beef and egg, milk pudding, tea and coffee, and a smattering of dim sum. The premise of the show struck him as a little odd—guests sat down in front of a studio audience with the host and ate breakfast with her, although the show was always filmed midday.
Shizuka looked delighted. "I'm so glad to hear that! Is this the kind of thing you'd eat nowadays?"
Syaoran shook his head. "Since moving to Japan, I've adapted to a more traditionally Japanese breakfast. Although nowadays, I'm so busy that I'll have a banana and a cup of coffee before I have to get going."
The audience made an oohing sound, and Shizuka clucked her tongue sympathetically. "Well, please, take advantage and let's eat!"
Uncomfortably cognizant of the audience watching him, Syaoran carefully took a spoonful of the soup to his mouth. It was warm and soothing and did taste like home. He remembered how Meiling had told him to look thrilled, no matter how good the food was or wasn't, and he let out a hum of appreciation.
"You like it?" Shizuka asked.
Syaoran nodded. "Very much, thank you."
The crowd applauded, and Syaoran smiled again to mask his discomfort.
"Now, back to your point about being too busy to eat—no one doubts that you're one of the busiest singers in the industry! But your hard work has paid off in spades. You've got a number one song and album on the charts right now. Besides busy, how are you feeling?"
Syaoran grinned. "Couldn't be better. I'm very grateful. Albums with the production and release history that this one has had are usually doomed from the start, so this is a huge surprise, to say the least. I'm so lucky to have the fans and the producer and the team that I do."
Shizuka smiled back. "Always so humble. Now, we know you've been extremely successful in your working life, but let's talk about your love life a little bit! You're just as famous for that as you are your music, after all! Are you lucky in love lately, Syaoran?"
Syaoran felt his breath catch a little in his throat. He shoveled some of the noodles into his mouth to hide his surprise.
"Syaoran?"
"Oh, I—yeah," he said, swallowing before forcing a smile on his face and rubbing the back of his neck. "That stuff does seem to make it into the news a lot."
"Well, you have dated some very beautiful women, and you're undeniably a very attractive man," Shizuka said, smiling broadly, and the audience tittered and clapped in approval. "So of course the public's interest is piqued!"
Syaoran felt himself redden. He suddenly couldn't wait for this interview to be over. "Thank you."
"And you don't seem to be too picky, either! You know, last year, the news broke that you were dating a paparazzo, and I think I'd be wrong to say I was the only one who was a little shocked. You don't seem to shy away from scandal!"
Syaoran was mid-bite into a meat bun when a candid he'd never seen before of Sakura walking with him in the streets appeared on the large screen-wall behind them, green eyes and tousled brown hair and beaming smile mocking him in high-definition. That had to have been from before the news had ever broken that they knew each other. He felt like he'd been punched in the face. His throat closed up, and the food in his mouth suddenly felt like tasteless mush. The audience began to murmur.
"Now, this is the girl. I take back my comment about you not being picky. You obviously love beautiful women. I guess you just aren't picky about their professions! Would you be interested in dating a talk show host?" Shizuka leaned her shoulders forward and batted her lashes at him in an exaggerated fashion.
The audience laughed, although Syaoran had no idea what was so funny. He felt like he might flip the table between them over, or throw up, or both.
The host's smile faded as she realized that Syaoran had been quiet this whole time. "Syaoran?"
Syaoran could practically hear Meiling yelling at him to pull it together. He drew in a deep breath. "I—I'm sorry, I was distracted by how good this bun tasted."
The audience laughed, and Syaoran smiled, relieved; it was such a poor lie that he was surprised it had worked at all.
"Oh, well that's wonderful! We'll have to give our chefs here a raise. But really, is there anything you'd like to tell us about this girl?"
Syaoran stared at the photo again. The way Sakura looked at him there, like he was the only person she could see, made his heart squeeze painfully. He forced himself to tear his eyes away.
"She's an old friend of mine. We became friendly when we encountered each other a few times after she photographed me."
"Just a friend?"
I wish, Syaoran wanted to say. I wish we could be even that.
"Yes. A good friend."
"Nothing more?" Shizuka pressed.
Syaoran shook his head. "Unfortunately, this schedule makes it so there's hardly anything interesting or romantic about my life."
Some of the audience laughed while others made noises of sympathy. Shizuka, for her part, looked rather disappointed, but convinced.
"Again, I don't have any trouble believing that. Now that your album is out, you're planning on touring the country, correct?"
Syaoran nodded, and he could nearly feel his spine collapsing under the weight of his relief. He knew this clip would make its rounds on the internet, but hopefully, he'd been impassive enough that people wouldn't make anything of it. And he hated the thought of Sakura seeing this at all—him verbalizing that she'd just been a good friend, when of course, she'd been so much more to him.
But that's none of your concern anymore, he thought to himself, and he squared his shoulders, took another bite out of the bun in his hands, and listened to the host so he could prepare to answer her next question.
The success of the podcast skyrocketed so quickly that it left Sakura dizzy in its wake. Thanks in large part to Tomoyo's diligent stalking of any mention of the podcast on social media in the week following the first episode, they'd figured out that its initial popularity had arisen from the mixture of Sakura's somewhat quirky and very specific perspective ("If you have to don a wig to go out with him, the best place to get a quality one for a good price is Kanikura Wigs in Shibuya" was one of the most-quoted lines from the episode) and Tomoyo's more measured, but still charming, one.
By the third episode, Sakura felt like she and Tomoyo had hit their stride. Recording and editing the podcast was a point of joy in Sakura's days, and she found the editing process both gratifying and enjoyable. And the results were exciting, too. After episode three, the podcast hit number twelve in their category in the country. When Sakura wasn't working at the diner, she was fielding emails and returning calls from advertisers interested in working with them, making offers so ludicrous that she felt like she was dreaming. But what brought perhaps even more joy to her than the advertising offers was the fanmail—all kinds of questions, comments, praise, and even tips and suggestions that she and Tomoyo actually found quite helpful. Of course, with that came some less positive feedback, including some rather hateful messages, but Sakura had not lived through vicious public scrutiny when she was with Syaoran just to be brought down by some people who didn't even know her real name.
By the fifth episode, Sakura was seriously considering quitting her job at the diner due to the amount of time the podcast was taking and how much revenue it would bring in. And after two more episodes, that was exactly what she did. Miki was supportive and gracious and promised to tune into every episode, and with that, Sakura began dedicating more of her time to scriptwriting, production, and managing relationships with the advertisers, especially as Tomoyo's work at her fashion job increased.
By the tenth episode, Where the F?*! is He?! had become a top five podcast in its category, a runaway hit that made Sakura feel, for the first time since she'd graduated university, fulfilled. And even if it hadn't gone quite the way she'd planned, this had been the very thing she had wanted: to make it into the journalism world in some way, up the ranks, on her own terms. By all means, Sakura found herself thinking late at night as she lay in bed, she should have been happy, as her dreams were coming true before her eyes.
So, then, she had to wonder, how could she possibly still feel so empty inside?
"That's a wrap! Excellent job, everyone!"
The cast and crew erupted into cheers, and Syaoran felt himself grinning at the infectious joy in the air.
"Let's give a special round of applause to Syaoran Li, who outdid himself in his acting comeback, wouldn't you say?" the director said, and the cheers increased in volume.
Syaoran bowed deeply several times. When he stood upright, he saw that the crowd was looking at him somewhat expectantly, so he cleared his throat.
"Thank you, everyone, for being so welcoming these past couple of months on set. It's been an honor to work with so many talented and dedicated people in my return to the acting world."
"Please join us again soon!" a crew member called out, and Syaoran chuckled as the rest of the crowd applauded.
Shooting had run several hours behind schedule, and he was sure that Meiling had sent him several messages about next week's interview lineup already. Rubbing his hand over his face, he made his way off the set amidst the bustling crowd in search of his phone.
Despite Eriol's and Meiling's concerns, Syaoran had been throwing himself full force into every project he possibly could over the last nine months—promoting his album, then doing a two-month tour, then hitting the awards circuit at the end of last year, then filming his first movie since he'd been a teen. Although he'd been grateful for the myriad distractions—and the success that they had reaped—he was feeling, for the first time since he'd collapsed all those months ago, the exhausting effects of maintaining such a demanding workload. He wondered if he could pencil in a trip home after this next round of promotional interviews wrapped up...
"Syaoran—will you be joining us for the wrap party?"
Syaoran turned around to meet the warm brown eyes of his co-star, Kiko Ishikawa, who was looking at him so eagerly that he had to smile.
"I'm sorry, Kiko. I'm so beat, I think I need to just head home and sleep for a whole day."
Kiko huffed a sigh before smiling and shaking her head. "Everyone told me you'd say that. You're really living up to your reputation of friendliest hermit in the industry."
Syaoran threw his head back and laughed. "Is that what they say about me?"
"There are worse things to be called, right?"
"That's for sure," Syaoran said, snorting.
"Well, then," Kiko said, leaning forward, "after you've gotten to recuperate some, how about something a little quieter, if a big party isn't your scene? Want to grab a drink with just me sometime?"
Syaoran felt his brows rise momentarily before he schooled his expression. Up till now, he'd been very certain that Kiko was just being friendly, since she'd been known in the industry for being very kind and outgoing. But the look on her face and the implication in her words was unmistakable. "Ah, Kiko—I… I'm sorry, but—"
Kiko shook her head again, cutting him off, but to Syaoran's surprise, she didn't look upset. "You know, there's something else they say about you, too."
"Oh? What's that?"
"That there's no sense in trying to ask you out, because a girl broke your heart a while back and you're not over her."
Syaoran stared at her, stunned. He swallowed. "It—it sounds like they know a lot more about me than I thought they did."
"So it's not untrue, then," Kiko said, nodding once. "Whoever she is, she must have been amazing."
Syaoran remained silent, unsure what to say. Although he thought about Sakura every day, no one had brought her up to him in such a blatant manner for months.
"Well, I hope it works out," Kiko said softly. "But if it doesn't—you have my number, you know? I liked getting to know you."
Syaoran smiled, relieved at her response. "I did, too. And despite what they say, I could always use a friend," he said, gently emphasizing the word friend. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"
Kiko continued to smile that rueful smile. "I don't know if I'm the one who needs to be told not to be a stranger. I'll see you around, Syaoran."
that's it for chapter 30! my apologies for the fake-out about this being the last one; i know there are probably some people who would love a 60-page chapter, but my guess is most of you would want something a little more palatable in length, so here we are.
thank you as always to everyone who's been reviewing, commenting, and sending me messages and questions. i know there were some comments about pacing and such last time, with which i didn't disagree, so hopefully, this chapter read a bit more smoothly. i also know that not a whole lot happened here, but i wanted to show that these two were learning (if not reluctantly, on syaoran's end), to live—or at least see what life is like—without each other. (also, as an aside, i know so very little about producing a podcast except from what i've read and researched online, so please suspend your disbelief!) everything comes to a head in the next chapter, which is mostly written and just needs a couple more scenes plus some editing, so fingers crossed it goes up in the next week or two!
in the meantime, please leave a review and feel to reach out to me with thoughts and questions!
love,
boreum dal