xxxi. a hand in the dark
The popularity of the podcast continued to snowball in a way beyond Sakura's wildest dreams. With that popularity came fans' curiosity about the hosts' personal lives, especially given the subject matter of their podcast and the fact that Sakura and Tomoyo meticulously kept details of their personal lives private.
Although several fans had written and called in asking personal questions to both of them, over time, listeners had seemed particularly interested in Sakura's. Tomoyo's routine scans of social media had shown them that this was due largely to Sakura's tendency to throw out off-the-wall comments about her own life and about dating in general, which hinted at a somewhat unusual dating experience.
At first, Sakura and Tomoyo would lean into it, divulging a bit more about their lives than they would have without the high interest. But when most of the questions became about them and less about dating, they tried to cease answering personal questions altogether as Sakura grew more concerned that they would reveal too much and people would uncover their identities.
But this led to even more speculation online that the hosts of Where the F? ! is He?! were not two normal women trying to date in Tokyo, as they'd claimed, but rather celebrities doing a long-term viral marketing campaign of some kind, or men masquerading as women (Sakura and Tomoyo laughed for days at that theory), or even A.I. in a complex social experiment. As the speculation grew more rampant, more sensationalistic, and to an extent, even hostile, Sakura decided the best way to quell it would be to tell the real story, to give the listeners just enough details without saying so much that everyone would instantly know who she was.
Because most of the curiosity at this point was about Sakura, and also because Tomoyo had a full-time career in another field that she couldn't afford to jeopardize in any way, Sakura had insisted she was the only one who needed to make any sort of reveal. She'd been so confident of the decision when she'd made it, perhaps fueled by the need to protect her friend, but now that she was sitting at her desk with Tomoyo, ready to record the episode in question, she was nervous.
"Sakura, you don't have to do this, you know," Tomoyo said softly beside her.
Sakura nodded. "I know. But in a way, now that I've decided to, I feel like I need to—like someone just fired the gun to start the race, and I need to at least try to run it."
Tomoyo squeezed her hand. "I'm here for you every step of the way. You know that, right?"
"Duh," Sakura said, smiling at the familiar rush of gratitude for her friend.
"Okay, then…" Tomoyo looked down at the notes she'd prepared. "Let's just go over the questions I'm going to ask you one more time before we start recording..."
The episode, of course, was the podcast's biggest and most successful to date. It even made a splash on some websites that tracked popular serial podcasts, and the reception online was better than expected, with many fans expressing a mixture of gratitude, understanding, further curiosity, and even fondness. (Tomoyo plainly told Sakura she'd blocked any antifans or hateful messages she'd seen online because it wouldn't do them any good to read or engage with them.)
The fact that Sakura had put portions of some of the rawest, most painful stories of her personal life up for all to hear about online, and that the action had driven their project to new heights, was not lost on her. She also knew that the story would likely reach people who would be able to put the pieces together to realize exactly who was behind the podcast, despite her best efforts to leave out key details. But really, she found herself thinking, maybe that wasn't so bad. Telling her story on the podcast had been, much to her surprise, more cathartic than nerve-wracking. It felt like the final piece she needed to heal, and she'd even found herself expressing feelings she'd never uttered out loud before.
And she wondered, and feared, and—when it was quiet, and she was totally alone with her own thoughts and she could admit it to herself—hoped, that maybe it'd reach the one person who really mattered.
When Tomoyo had texted Meiling to warn her that the contents of this week's episode of the podcast would be "a bit of a surprise," Meiling had known in her gut that it was going to be about Syaoran in some way.
Of course, over the last year, Meiling had listened to Sakura divulge little details about her relationship with Syaoran—always cloaked as a mystery man in her dialogue, of course—so she'd wondered how it would be different this time.
But she'd never imagined a tell-all where she dropped such a bomb at the end that it left her breathless. She didn't know who to text first, Tomoyo or Sakura or Syaoran or Eriol (or maybe even her own mother, to whom she'd introduced the podcast several weeks into its run).
Meiling sat in her car in the parking garage of her office, hands still on the steering wheel, not sure how to process what she'd just heard. She rewound the audio, listened to Sakura's soft voice answering Tomoyo's final questions one more time, and then let out a long breath.
Her hand hovered over the speed dial option she had for Syaoran on the screen on her dashboard, hesitating for just a moment before she pressed it. Sakura had asked her, in the beginning, not to tell Syaoran about the podcast, so she hadn't. But what she'd said in this episode had changed the situation, Meiling thought, and it almost felt like her obligation to get Syaoran to listen to it.
The phone rang, and Syaoran didn't answer, and Meiling dialed again.
He picked up on the third ring. "What's up? I'm backstage at Iruno's Cafe."
"I know, I know, I'm sorry."
"Everything okay?"
Meiling let out a big breath. "Sakura has a podcast. In the last episode, she talks about you. You have to listen to it. Right when you get home."
There was silence on the other end of the line, and Meiling wondered exasperatedly if she'd cut out before he could hear the crucial part of her message. "Syaoran?"
"A podcast?"
"Yes. She's been doing it for about a year now, anonymously. But in the last episode, she reveals a few things about herself—just enough for anyone who knows her who's listening to know it's her, and she… Well, she talks about you. You guys. Together."
"Oh," he said, his voice quiet. "Um, okay, I—thanks for letting me know. Where can I find it?"
"I'll text you the link. I'm sorry, Syaoran, I didn't want to distract you from your interview, but—"
"No, it's okay," he said quickly. "But, uh—hey, I gotta go. Okay? Show's about to start. I'll talk to you later. Bye."
The call ended abruptly, and Meiling sat in her car for ten more minutes, contemplating how stupid and helpless men were, how she'd definitely just scared the living daylights out of Syaoran, and how if he and Sakura did not end up happy after all of this, she would find a way to trap them in a room together, lock the door, and lose the key.
In a way, Syaoran felt quite sorry for Dai Noguchi, the host of Iruno's Café.
Last year, the man had been forced to sit through a terrible interview when Syaoran had been nearly catatonic with shock and grief after Sakura had ended things with him not twenty minutes prior. This year, Syaoran had been bumbling, inarticulate, and eager to get offstage because he could feel his phone burning a hole in his pocket after Meiling had texted him the link to Sakura's podcast. For all Syaoran was worth, he was certain he'd never be invited onto the show again.
But as he sped his way home, burst through his condo door, and grabbed the nearest pair of headphones he could find, he couldn't bring himself to care. Something about the way Meiling had conveyed the news to him after being so quiet about Sakura for the last year told him that whatever he heard would be big.
He felt his stomach churn as he followed the link Meiling had sent him and it prompted the podcast to pop up on his phone screen. He trusted Meiling, but he was nervous all the same—what if whatever it was would just send him into another two-month spiral?
He looked down at his screen and raised his eyebrows and then let out a startled, single laugh at the unexpected title of the podcast.
No way Sakura came up with that one.
"Okay," he said, taking a breath.
He sat down on his sofa, and then he immediately sprang back up and went to his kitchen to pour a glass of whiskey. He took a long sip and then sat down again, and he began to scroll through the write-up about the show and the list of episodes.
As he scrolled, Syaoran didn't know whether he hated himself for living under a rock this whole time or Meiling for not telling him about this podcast sooner. He saw that Sakura had been producing and leading this series for the last year, producing fifty episodes and procuring tens of thousands of subscribers. He felt a somewhat painful rush of pride in his chest to realize she'd made it, in her own right and all on her own, despite the incredible setbacks she had to have experienced from her time with him.
Meiling had told him that the last episode was about him, but it almost felt rude to dive in right there, given the body of work before him. He tapped at random and landed on Episode 4, and it began playing without any further prompting.
"Hi, everyone! Happy Wednesday. Today—"
Syaoran's eyes widened. He leaned back against the couch and hit pause. It was the strangest sensation. He felt like he was being kicked in the gut and caressed all at once.
He'd had no idea until now how much he had missed Sakura's voice.
Unable to take the suspense any longer, Syaoran drank the rest of his whiskey in one gulp as he scrolled to the latest episode: Episode Fifty, entitled "A Real Person."
He let out a long breath. The pain in his stomach was almost too much to bear, but in a new way—there was a hope he didn't want to feel, like looking into a light after having sat in darkness for too long.
Syaoran swallowed hard, still feeling the bitterness of the whiskey on his tongue and the burn of it in the back of his throat, and he hit play.
"Hi, everyone, and welcome to another episode of 'Where the Fuck is He?' I'm your host, Mio," Sakura chirped.
Syaoran felt his lips curl up into a smile. A name that meant "beautiful cherry" wasn't the subtlest alias, but he suspected Sakura had never expected the show to blow up like this.
"And I'm your host, Mayo," Tomoyo's voice said. "Today marks a very special day—our fiftieth episode."
"After careful consideration and lots of discussion, Mayo and I have decided to celebrate by doing what we said we'd never do—telling you about our lives."
"Well, to clarify, Mio will tell you about her life, while I conduct the interview—which means we will have no guests on our show today."
"To start," Sakura said, "we have some ground rules—we are still not going to reveal our names or any other identifying details about our personal lives. But I suspect that's not what most of you are interested in. Instead, it seems that you want to know about the story behind my past relationships—my last one in particular."
"That's right, Mio," Tomoyo said, and Syaoran could hear laughter in her voice. "After all, I think we owe the readers an explanation as to why you know so much about running around the city in wigs, or what restaurants are actually open past their posted closing hours."
Syaoran let out a quiet laugh. He never envisioned Sakura in a line of work where she'd speak so publicly about having to wear the wigs before.
"I agree. It's all very unorthodox, and it deserves a story," Sakura said.
"Then, let's dive right in. So, as the listeners have gleaned, your last relationship was with someone who was high-profile enough that you had to sneak around with them..."
Syaoran lay on the couch for the next hour, watching the sky turn pink through the windows as he listened to Sakura break down his relationship with her. As she'd promised the listeners, she recounted the story not in a level of detail that would identify the parties, but certainly in a level of detail that rendered him nearly immobile with an old, abruptly uncovered aching. Hearing her perspective on meeting him—how she'd been uncertain of him, at first, but how surprised she was at his kindness and his vulnerability—had made him feel like someone was carving into his heart with a sharp knife. But it was her explanation of how she felt about breaking up that made him hold his head in his hands and shed tears.
"I knew in my heart, I think for weeks, that he would throw it all away for me, and instead of stopping it sooner, I waited, hoping he wouldn't do it when the time came. But of course, I underestimated his kindness. In hindsight, that was a silly error."
"Why do you say that?" Tomoyo asked.
"Because he's just that good of a person. Of course he was going to throw it all away. And so now, my biggest regret is that I waited so long to tell him he couldn't do that."
"That's your biggest regret? Not that you broke up?"
"No. I mean, yes, it devastated me, breaking up. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. But I knew it was the right thing for him. And, you know, I try not to check on him or anything because—it's still painful, but... I think he's really doing well now, and I'm so happy for him. So I only hate that I didn't tell him sooner."
Syaoran pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, letting out a shaky exhale. The weight of everything lost between them suddenly hung in between his ribs like an anvil.
"Wow," Tomoyo said softly. "It sounds like it ended in pain for both of you, but that this has been an especially difficult journey for you. If you had to do it again, would you?"
There was a long pause before Sakura spoke again.
"You are right. In the end, my life changed a lot because of this. From that one meeting that first day in the park, I'd never have guessed that things would take this kind of trajectory. I've been through a lot of pain and received a lot of hate. And short of this podcast… Well, I probably won't be able to really pursue the serious, top-notch journalistic career I used to dream of every day since I was young."
Syaoran's stomach twisted into thick knots. He had never heard Sakura be so candid before about how their relationship had affected her life. Of course, she didn't say anything he hadn't known, but hearing it come out of her mouth made the knowledge that much more painful.
"But, to answer your question truthfully..."
Syaoran held his breath.
"Yes. I would do it again. Without question. I will never regret meeting him, or getting to know him, or being with him. He was one of the best people in my life, and so good to his core, and he made me learn so much about myself. I feel lucky to have known him for as long as I did."
"Mio, it almost sounds like you still love him?"
There was no hesitation. "The question was never about whether I love him or not. Of course I do."
Syaoran had been waiting to let out the breath he'd been holding, but he suddenly found that he didn't have any air in his lungs. She still loved him. Everything inside of him was exploding, a million tiny fireworks, and he had half a mind to turn off the rest of the podcast now and jump into his car and drive to Tomoyo's house and find Sakura immediately.
But as Sakura had said, her loving him was never the issue, was it? They'd broken up for other reasons which, as far as he could tell, were still unresolvable.
He deflated, the reality settling back into his bones more heavily than before. The podcast had continued playing as he'd gotten caught up in his own thoughts, and he rewound a few seconds to catch what he'd missed.
"I have to say for the benefit of our listeners that I know Mio quite well in real life and am very familiar with this story, and I'm still having to hold back some tears," Tomoyo said, letting out a watery laugh. "Well, Mio, I think this is a good place to end it. Just one last question."
"What's that?"
"If you could say something to him now, what would you say?"
"Oh, I…" Sakura sounded genuinely surprised, like she hadn't been prepared for this question.
Syaoran leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"I'd say…" her voice was quiet. "I hope you're taking care of yourself, and that you're eating well and getting rest."
"Kind and practical. Just like you, Mio."
Syaoran tried to swallow the disappointment at there not being more. Was that all she wanted to say, really? Maybe she thought he'd never listen in, but even so—
"Wait," Sakura said. "I—that's not all."
"No?"
"No. I would also say, if you think you could be happy with me... I know I'd be happy with you."
Before Tomoyo could respond, Sakura dove straight into the sign-off. "In any event, I think that'll be all for today, guys. Thanks for listening in. We'll try to answer some questions next week."
"This has been Mayo and Mio with episode fifty of Where the Fuck is He? See you next week," Tomoyo concluded, and the podcast came to an end.
It was dark in Syaoran's condo now, and he stared out at the Tokyo skyline, one hand gripping his jaw and covering his mouth.
What were the odds? He was on top of the world, and still lonely and lost as ever, and an answer he hadn't even dared to look for had fallen into his lap.
So what came next?
Eriol blinked at Syaoran behind his glasses and leaned forward, hands on his desk. "Do my eyes deceive me? Is that Syaoran Li in my office? Bringing me food?"
Syaoran scoffed as he set down a plastic bag of fried chicken and beer. "Don't be ridiculous." He paused. "I know it's been a long time since I've been here to see you. I'm sorry."
It was Eriol's turn to scoff. "You know I don't actually care. I'd have come to see you if I could, but I've basically been living here this week. We're trying to acquire Hito, did you hear?"
Syaoran nodded, unpacking the bag and opening the box of chicken before handing Eriol a napkin and a can of beer. "Congratulations."
"Don't congratulate me just yet. Ichi Publishing is being so obstinate about the sale that it makes me want to throw my laptop out of my window." Eriol sighed, biting into a piece of chicken. "Thanks for dinner."
"'Course. Let's celebrate for real when you close."
"Sounds like a plan. And now that we have that out of the way," Eriol said, a grin suddenly on his lips, "are we going to talk about that podcast episode, or what?"
Syaoran took a sip of beer. "You heard it already, huh?"
"Tomoyo's my girlfriend. Of course I've heard it already. How are you feeling?"
"Truthfully, I'm... I mean, I'm nervous," Syaoran said, staring out the window behind Eriol's desk, where the sky was turning inky black from the purples of dusk.
"Nervous?" Eriol asked. "Not, like, elated?"
Syaoran shot him a look. "Of course I'm happy. I'm also just worried, I guess. I feel like I only have one shot at this, and I don't want to mess it up."
"One shot at what? Getting Sakura back?"
Syaoran nearly choked on his chicken. He hadn't heard it put quite so bluntly, but it wasn't like that wasn't the goal. "Um... Yes, to put it plainly."
"How can you possibly mess that up? She basically laid it out there for the entire world to hear. She's ready when you are," Eriol said with a frown.
"I know, but when it ended before—she did that for me. So how do I prove I'm ready and the same thing won't happen all over again?"
"Well, based on what happened last time, I'm guessing that if Sakura thought that you still couldn't be happy without your career, and you still feel like Sakura can't be happy if she's in the public eye because of you, you'd be back where you started."
"Yeah. That's the problem," Syaoran murmured, despondent.
"But something along the way has changed, hasn't it?"
There was mirth in Eriol's voice, and Syaoran looked up at him.
"What do you mean?"
"You're on top of the world right now. This is the kind of success you've been aiming for since our college days. Tell me you're happy," Eriol said, leaning back in his chair, taking another swig of beer.
Syaoran opened his mouth, and then he closed it. He looked at the floor. "I mean... I'm... I'm pleased with the way things are going with my career."
Eriol snorted. "That is the biggest non-answer answer I've heard all day, and with the number of meetings I had to sit through, that's really saying something."
Syaoran let out a halfhearted chuckle.
"To tell you the truth," Eriol continued, "I feel like you've been unhappy for quite some time."
"Unhappy? I wouldn't say I'm unhappy—"
"You are," Eriol said, looking quite self-assured. "By all accounts, you're doing incredibly well for yourself. But look at you. You don't talk to anyone. Your only friends are basically Meiling and me."
Syaoran opened his mouth to protest, but Eriol held up a hand.
"Meiling tells me that everything that should be fun in your career right now is just a task to you. In your interviews, you aren't all there. It's actually a miracle the tabloids haven't caught onto it. And even around me, your best friend since childhood, you seem like you're trying so hard to be alive." Eriol sighed. "I've been wanting to tell you this for a long time, Syaoran, but you are a shell of who you used to be. It's killing me to watch it happen. You have everything you used to think you wanted, and yet, you're unhappier than ever."
Syaoran stared into the beer bottle in his hands, pondering Eriol's words and knowing, already, that they were true by how they resonated with him. The moment from earlier that night, right after he'd finished the podcast, came back to him—how relieved he'd felt, like a hand had been reaching out to him in the dark.
He swallowed hard. "Yeah. I guess so."
"So what do you think that means about your happiness?"
"I mean… being with Sakura is what would make me happy."
Eriol chuckled and shook his head. "See? Was that so hard? You've been through so much to get to this realization. But the answer is so simple."
"Isn't that a little unfair? We both… After everything we—she—went through, it only made sense to try out being apart. I just… I just thought that was what she wanted, in the end."
"But think about this—she just tried to tell you she wants to be happy with you. And it's not like it'd be that hard for a listener to really figure out who she is after she revealed all of that, so the privacy you thought she needed so badly may not be the answer for her, after all. So, now that you're hearing it might not be, how are you feeling?"
"Like I need to ask her to give it another shot with me." But then, Syaoran shook his head. "Still, I'd have to scale my career back no matter what. I could never expose her to all of that public attention again—I don't care how much she's willing to deal with it."
"Well, then," Eriol said, tilting his head and smiling. "You've seen what your career could be like when you live life unfettered. And now that you know, could you give this all up for her?"
Syaoran pursed his lips. He thought about the shows, the nights onstage beneath the lights, pouring his soul into the mic. Reading messages from fans saying how his music had changed their lives. The feeling of being consumed by an idea of a song, a seed of it growing and growing until he'd finally finished the last touches on it and it felt almost too perfect to show to anyone else.
But really…
Sakura stared up at him, eyes glassy but her lips curling up into a smile, all the same. "I think I'll always need you."
Love surged through his chest at just the memory of her, something real and substantial that his job—no matter how much of a dream career it was—could not produce. Sakura deserved better than this, than all the drama and baggage that came with his stardom, all the hatred she'd receive even though she was the most loving person in the world. Even if it didn't matter to her, even if she'd still come back regardless of what that meant for her, he would do whatever it took to make sure she didn't suffer at his hands, if she wanted him again.
"Yeah," he whispered, looking back up at Eriol, who was beaming at him now. "Yeah. I really could."
"Then," Eriol said, leaning forward, "it's probably time you had a talk with your boss, isn't it?"
"All set?"
Syaoran nodded, letting out a shaky breath. He adjusted his guitar and then turned his head toward the curtain. "How's it looking out there?"
After his talk with Eriol, Syaoran had visited Matsura's office a month ago to request an indefinite hiatus. He'd been prepared to go to war, even more so than last time—so, of course, the last thing he'd expected was for his boss to lean back in his chair, sigh, and say, "If that's what you need. I did promise you I'd give you that after a year."
But Matsura had always been fair, and after several days of deliberation, Syaoran had decided the best way would be to make the announcement in such a way where the message was loud, clear, and irrevocable, and where he could simultaneously give his fans a proper goodbye. To avoid any media speculation beforehand, Syaoran, Matsura, Meiling, and his team had moved forward with planning an unannounced guerilla concert on a busy street in Shibuya.
"There's definitely a crowd gathering now," Meiling said, peering through the gap between the curtains. "They're curious what's going on, that's for sure. You ready to do this?"
Syaoran remembered a similar moment, then, this time last year, when he'd been about to announce his hiatus on Iruno's Cafe. At the time, he'd been nervous, just like he was now—but with the benefit of hindsight, he also knew that back then, he'd been trying to convince himself to make a decision he (and of course, Sakura) knew was not right.
Now, though, he felt jittery, just like he always did before a show, but at peace. The difference was remarkable.
"You know? I really am," Syaoran said softly.
Meiling beamed at him. "I know you are."
The stage manager stepped toward them. "Everyone ready? You're on in one minute."
Syaoran turned toward his band. "Are we ready, guys?"
The band whooped and hollered, and Syaoran felt a fierce rush of love and gratitude for all them. He stuck a hand out, and Meiling and the band and the stage crew joined in.
Syaoran made sure to make eye contact with every one of them. "Everyone… I can't tell you how grateful I am to have gotten to know each and every one of you over the years. This is the last time we'll all perform together like this for a while, but know it's not the end, okay? We'll all see each other again. Thanks for everything, for sticking by me when things got tough, and going into this final show with me."
Everyone cheered loudly, with the band mates closest to Syaoran clapping him on the back, and he grinned.
"All right, on three. One, two, three—"
The group cried out a "LET'S GO!" in unison, and with that, Syaoran strode out past the curtains to a screaming throng of people for the last time.
Sakura moved her shopping basket from one forearm to the other as she made her way down the baking aisle. She was now seriously regretting her decision not to grab a cart as she'd entered the grocery store, as the basket had gotten so heavy that it was cutting into her arm in a painful way.
Just one more thing—ah. There we go.
Sakura plucked a bag of caster sugar from the shelf just above her head and dropped it into her basket, hurrying toward the register. She hadn't baked in so long, but she was looking forward to the challenge of trying to pull Tomoyo's favorite cake together.
The occasion for celebration was somewhat bittersweet; Tomoyo had been granted a promotion—the quickest promotion that her fashion house had ever granted—but the new requirements of the job meant she would likely have to give up the podcast before too long. Where the F! ? is He? was so successful now that Tomoyo had thought twice about taking the promotion, but Sakura had snapped her friend out of making any crazy decisions with a reminder of what her dream actually entailed.
Of course, this meant Sakura was losing her partner. The plan was for Sakura to try to do a few episodes without Tomoyo and see how it went, but Sakura was certain it would not be the same, either in experience and feedback, without her best friend.
Separately, Eriol's company had just closed on the acquisition of Hito magazine, the largest celebrity and entertainment publication in the country, and Tomoyo had wanted to have a dual celebration dinner with him. Sakura would be seeing Eriol for the first time since she'd broken up with Syaoran. A year ago, she'd never have thought she would be ready to see anyone associated with Syaoran again, but shockingly, she wasn't nervous about it now at all. Rekindling her friendship with Meiling had made her realize how much she'd missed the people she'd come to know who were in Syaoran's orbit, and she was looking forward to spending time with him.
As she got closer to the register from where she stood in line, Sakura glanced up momentarily when she heard loud chattering. Down near the entrance of the store, a crowd had gathered up to look up at the small television screen hanging from the ceiling, and around her, several others were looking at some kind of alert on their phones. Her curiosity piqued, Sakura squinted at the screen, but she couldn't really see what was going on from where she was, and her own phone hadn't pinged, so she figured it couldn't have been breaking news.
Hmm… I hope it's nothing bad, she thought. She made a mental note to herself to check the news when she got done with the cake at home.
She checked her watch and noted with alarm that Tomoyo and Eriol were due back at Tomoyo's apartment in less than two hours, which gave her barely enough time to get home and bake the cake. With that, she promptly forgot about the public commotion in the store and hurried up to the register as the line moved forward.
Syaoran looked out at the sea of people before him. It was always like this at a big concert—so many people that he couldn't focus on one face, even out of the ones he could see very clearly. He felt a swell of pride in his chest at his fans, that so many had shown up on such short notice. But it still wasn't enough to convince him not to do what he planned on doing.
"Thank you for coming out tonight," he said into the microphone.
The crowd cheered some more. A few girls shouted, just loudly enough to be heard through the crowd, "We love you, Syaoran!"
"This has really been an incredible year," Syaoran continued, smiling. "You've been so supportive of me. I thought I was at the lowest of the lows in my career, and you guys brought me up to a peak that I couldn't even fathom reaching. I can't thank you enough. I really feel so humbled and grateful."
The crowd cheered more, and the sound traveled like a wave, low at first and then loudly as it rolled toward him.
"With that... I have an announcement to make." Syaoran paused now, and he pondered his next words carefully. He'd said it over and over in his head, in his shower, before bed, and finally, to Meiling and Matsura and Eriol and his mother and sisters, so many times. And yet, it was hard to remember exactly how he'd phrased it.
But in the end, he thought, his uncertainty was silly. After all, there was only one way to say it, wasn't there?
In his silence, the audience had grown quiet, too. He leaned into the mic. "This is my last performance for the foreseeable future."
"Oh, my God!"
As batter shot up into the air from the stand mixer, Sakura decided baking was not nearly as much like riding a bike as she'd tried to convince herself it was. In her early university days, Sakura had been able to make fresh cream cake practically with her eyes closed. Now, she was covered in flour and batter, and she was all but certain she was going to set Tomoyo's kitchen on fire.
"This is a disaster," Sakura said to Kero with a sigh. Kero, who was busily licking up spilled batter from the floor, perked one ear toward her in a halfhearted show of support before returning to his spoils.
The door burst open, and Sakura turned around, batter-covered spatula in hand one hand and flour-dusted rag in the other, to see Tomoyo and Eriol tumbling through the door, wide-eyed and out of breath.
"Tomoyo! Is everything o—"
"Sakura, watch this immediately!" Tomoyo thrust her phone, which appeared to be playing a video at full volume, in Sakura's flour-streaked face.
"Hi, Sakura, good to see you," Eriol said hurriedly, smiling, and then he nudged his chin towards the phone. "Watch. Please. Now."
"I—what?" Sakura asked, bewildered. "The oven's on, I'm making the cake—"
Tomoyo held her phone insistently in front of Sakura's face while Eriol ran behind Sakura and shut off both the oven and the mixer.
"Sakura, never mind any of that," Tomoyo said, voice finally calm. She tilted her head towards the screen of her phone. "Look."
It took Sakura a second to realize what her friend was trying so persistently to show her, but when she saw Syaoran, holding a guitar and standing in a hazy purple glow under dozens of lights, and a huge crowd standing below the stage on which he stood, she felt her heart stutter and then stop. She hadn't so much as glanced for more than two seconds at a single photo of him in the last ten months—and now that she was fully looking at him, it hurt just as much as when they'd said goodbye.
"Tomoyo—what..." Sakura whispered. She could barely speak.
"I know, Sakura, but I'm not just showing this to you for fun. Syaoran held a guerrilla concert tonight and made an announcement. This just happened, and listen to what he's saying. Listen."
Sakura knew that if Tomoyo, who had seen her through the entire last year, had witnessed every stage of her heartache and had seen her at her absolute worst, was breaking her moratorium on all things related to Syaoran, she had to have a reason. So she obeyed her friend, and she listened.
Syaoran had just finished playing a song, and he was now waiting patiently for the crowd's noise to die down so he could speak. The camera zoomed in closer to his face, and Sakura's stomach did a flip when she saw the dearly familiar glow in his eyes, the traces of a grin on his lips as sweat shone on his face and matted his hair to his forehead. He looked well, and healthy, and so alive, and it brought unexpected tears to Sakura's eyes.
"I have an announcement to make," Syaoran said into the mic.
The crowd, naturally, had erupted into a roar of screams and gasps and hushed conversation. Syaoran had expected all of this, of course, but even so, he was a little shocked at how remarkably calm he felt. He glanced back at the members of his band onstage, who all nodded or smiled at him encouragingly.
Right.
Once the noise had died down, he stepped up to the microphone again. "To all of you who have given me your love and support: thank you, and I'm sorry. I don't know if this is a permanent leave from the industry…" He stopped, took another breath before continuing, "But I just can't—I have to confess that I've been shoving aside what makes me happiest to continue this career, and I just can't do it anymore."
The audience began to talk once more amongst themselves, clearly deliberating what that could be. Syaoran forced himself to continue on, although now, he could definitely feel his heart pounding in his throat. There was still one last thing he had to do. He clenched a fist to keep his voice from shaking as he looked into the nearest camera.
"If this gets to you," he said slowly, clearly, "and if you still feel how you felt before… You know how to find me. And I'll wait for you."
He looked back out at the crowd and bowed. "Thank you," he said into the microphone, and then he removed the strap of his guitar from over his shoulder and walked off the stage as the crowd noise behind him grew to a deafening roar.
"If this gets to you," Syaoran said, looking through the screen, and Sakura thought she could see a trace of nerves as his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, "and if you still feel how you felt before… You know how to find me. And I'll wait for you."
Even from her place in Tomoyo's kitchen, Sakura could feel the pandemonium in the crowd as the Syaoran walked offstage and the camera panned out to the audience. Her head spun, and she felt so short of breath that she thought she might need to lie down. She settled for leaning her elbows on the kitchen counter.
When they'd ended their relationship in that tiny backroom all those months ago, Sakura had been certain that even if Syaoran didn't know it, his music fulfilled him and made him happiest—that he would have suffered without it. But here he was, telling a crowd of thousands that he'd been putting aside what made him happiest all along.
Sakura looked up at Tomoyo again, eyes wide. She felt strangely detached from herself all of a sudden, like she might be leaving her body. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "I can't—is that what I think it—"
"Yes," Tomoyo said, nodding vigorously. "It was for you. There's no question."
"How…?"
Eriol smiled. "He heard your message. And he wanted to find the most definitive way to tell you he felt the same."
"So," Tomoyo said, leaning on the counter beside Sakura and reaching out to gently brush some flour off her cheek, "how about we go get him?"
"Ah... Eriol?" Sakura said softly from the backseat.
"Hm?" Eriol made eye contact with her through the rearview.
"I'm sorry this is the first night I'm seeing you since last year... and this is what we're doing."
"Perfectly fine," Eriol said with a warm smile. "I get it, and also—if all goes according to plan, we'll see a lot more of each other soon, don't you think?"
Sakura smiled, although the "if" had her stomach in knots.
Tomoyo reached her hand around to the backseat, and Sakura took it. "How are you doing, Sakura?"
She shut her eyes, and somewhere inside of her, it finally clicked that they were going to Syaoran's condo. She was going to see him for the first time in a year, in person. She had no idea what she'd say or how he would react. And despite Tomoyo's reassurances and all evidence pointing to Sakura, she was still terrified that he hadn't meant those words for her at all when he'd been onstage. If it ended in heartbreak for her, if it'd been a mistake, she didn't know how she would come back from that.
Still, it didn't stop the moment from replaying over and over in her mind, as if Tomoyo's phone screen were behind her eyelids.
"If this gets to you, and you still feel how you felt before… You know how to find me. And I'll wait for you."
Sakura let out a low exhale. "I'm nervous," she admitted.
Could she afford to let herself dream? In the back of her mind, a voice told her that it was already too late to stop. For the first time in months, she allowed herself to go back to that moment when they'd parted.
I'll come running.
"No need to be," Eriol said, taking one hand off the steering wheel and waving it airily. "I can safely say that unless Syaoran has an imaginary girlfriend with an imaginary history that's equally as dramatic as the one between you two, he was most definitely talking to you."
"Thanks, Eriol," Sakura said, wringing her hands and trying to laugh. "Also... I'm sorry I got flour all over your backseat."
In her rush and at Tomoyo's insistence that they hurry, Sakura had run out of the apartment still in her messy apron, flour and batter in her hair and strewn across her face and arms. She felt more like a madwoman than someone who was running across town to try to convince the love of her life to be with her again.
"Not to worry! I'm actually getting the car cleaned this weekend, so I'd say your timing is impeccable. And it smells heavenly. It makes me want sweets," Eriol added cheerfully. He turned to face Tomoyo. "I'm definitely feeling cookies after this. How about you?"
Tomoyo laughed and smacked him on the arm. "How can you think of food at a time like this?"
"Fine, fine. I'll go get us cookies, you can wait at Syaoran's condo with Sakura—"
Tomoyo threw her head back and laughed, and even Sakura, for all her nerves, let out a giggle.
No matter what happened, she thought, with friends like these, it couldn't be all bad.
"Eriol Hiiragizawa, here to see Syaoran Li," Eriol said jovially to the concierge, winking at Sakura.
Sakura chewed her lower lip, hands behind her back so she wouldn't show how much she was fidgeting. She could see the concierge staring at her, undoubtedly due to the copious amounts of frosting and flour in her hair, as he picked up the phone and let Syaoran know he had visitors. Tomoyo put an arm around Sakura's shoulders and squeezed, and Sakura felt her whole body sink into her friend's.
"You and your guests are free to go up, Mr. Hiiragizawa," the concierge said.
As Eriol and Tomoyo walked with Sakura over to the elevator bank, Sakura looked up at Eriol curiously.
"Why didn't you tell him it was me coming to see Syaoran?" she asked.
Eriol grinned. "It'll be nice to keep him on his toes."
Sakura tried to smile, but she wanted to retch as she watched the doorman call down an elevator. When it arrived and the doors slid open, Eriol and Tomoyo stood back.
"You're not coming?" Sakura asked, pausing before she stepped in.
Eriol shook his head. "This is all about you guys. I wasn't joking about the cookies. Tomoyo and I are going to go hunt some down."
At Sakura's terrified expression, Tomoyo added quickly, "But we'll be nearby if you need us!"
"Within a half-mile radius," Eriol promised. "He's all yours, Sakura. Just be sure to send him my love."
The doors slid closed, and as the elevator shot up the building, Sakura felt her heart drop into her stomach. When she'd lived here, she'd always loved how fast the elevator was, but right now, she wanted nothing more than for it to slow down. She had half a mind to ride it back down to the first floor and call this off; it wasn't like Syaoran would ever know that she'd been on her way to see him if he was expecting Eriol and not her…
But ultimately, she knew that if she walked away, she would feel regret for the rest of her life. As the elevator came to a halt and its doors opened, she let out a shuddering sigh and stepped into the hallway.
Syaoran's unit was the only one on this floor. Sakura made the slow, familiar walk down the hall, and everything from the smell of the peonies on the console table to the way her flats tapped on the marble floor suddenly filled her with memories and a potent yearning. When she got to the door, her heart was pounding so fiercely that she felt like it was shaking her whole body.
Drawing in a deep breath, Sakura pressed the call button on the doorbell.
For some reason, she had anticipated having to wait for a long while—so she nearly jumped when the door opened after a mere few seconds, and there, all of a sudden, stood Syaoran Li, his expression a mixture of bemusement and disbelief. It was as though Sakura had forgotten how to breathe.
He stood taller before her than she remembered, more beautiful than she remembered. The little features popped out to her, one by one: he was in the same clothing as he'd been in the video; his hair was mussed in a thousand different directions; he smelled faintly of sweat and whiskey; his eyes were wide, dazed, deep, glowing amber. And even then, with all those precise details, she wondered if he was real. Despite her earlier promises to herself that she wouldn't cry, her vision grew blurry with tears, and she hurriedly wiped them away so she could continue to drink him in.
"Sakura," he breathed, voice hushed, although no one was in the hallway with them. He took a half-step forward. "Am I dreaming?"
Sakura couldn't help it; she let out a sob—of joy, of relief. She knew now with certainty all her misgivings had been for nothing. She shook her head.
"You're—" Syaoran raised a hand to her face slowly, like he might break her if he weren't careful. The familiar touch of his calloused fingers along her cheek stirred something deep and forgotten low in her stomach. His mouth quirked up as he wiped a tear away. "You're covered in flour."
She opened her mouth to explain, but she saw Syaoran's eyes go up to the frosting in her hair and then travel down to the teddy bear-print apron still tied around her waist. His lips stretched into a grin, and she burst into watery laughter.
"Do I want to know?" Syaoran asked, chuckling.
"Let's just say you chose a bad night to ask me to come find you."
Syaoran's eyes were so soft, so full of exhilaration, Sakura felt like she couldn't breathe.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, both hands coming up to cup her face. "Still, you came."
Sakura leaned her face into his palm. The touch felt like sinking into bed after a long, cold day.
"You asked me to," Sakura whispered. "Of course I did."
Syaoran let out a huff, like he'd been holding his breath, and he leaned his forehead against hers. "Thank you."
And then his lips were on hers, soft at first—gentle and afraid, almost, like his hands had been. Sakura felt something sweet and unbidden curling painfully in her chest and then releasing. She stood on her toes to kiss him back, and then his hands were on her waist and his tongue was in her mouth, sliding against hers, lips coaxing hers open wider. Sakura was certain that if he weren't holding her, her knees would have given out. His fingers went to her hair then, and suddenly, he paused.
"What's wrong?" Sakura asked, frowning as Syaoran pulled away.
Syaoran grinned and held up his fingers, which were now covered in sticky frosting. His nose, too, had a touch of flour on it.
Sakura burst into laughter. "I'm so sorry, I—"
Syaoran shook his head, laughing. "Wanna come inside? You could wash up, if you'd like... I could make you some tea, and we could talk?"
Sakura smiled at the hesitation in his voice. "I would love that, thank you."
Syaoran stood at the sink, running water into the kettle and staring at nothing. He couldn't seem to process the fact that Sakura was in his condo—in his bathroom, just down the hall from him. He half-wondered if he'd wake up tomorrow and realize none of this had happened at all.
When the doorbell had rung earlier that evening, Syaoran had been sitting on his sofa, hoping he could drink himself into oblivion that night so as not to stay up till sunrise in his anxiety. He'd been eyeing his cell phone, willing it to ring, and when the concierge had finally called only to tell him Eriol was here to see him, Syaoran had felt both profound disappointment and also begrudging gratitude that he had such a good friend in his life.
So when Syaoran had shuffled to get the door and had seen Sakura's face on the video screen by the doorway, he'd stood frozen for several seconds, wondering if this was all just a dream. Inexplicably, she'd been wearing an apron and covered in flour, and the odd details had been just enough to convince him that maybe this was all real after all. And when he'd opened the door and she'd stood before him, real as ever and so beautiful that it made his chest hurt, it had taken all his willpower not to wrap his arms around her and crush her against him immediately.
It felt impossible. After a year of longing, of trying to move on, it had come to this: admitting to her, and to the world, that more than the shows and the press and even the music, she was what he'd really needed, and miraculously, her showing up to respond in kind.
"Ah... Syaoran?"
Syaoran turned around to see Sakura standing in the hallway, clutching a towel wrapped around her body, icing and flour still in her hair. He could see her flushing down her cheeks and neck, just to her collarbones, and swallowed, trying to suppress the overwhelming longing that was suddenly threatening to consume him.
"The frosting seems to have hardened in my hair... Do you think you could help me detangle it?"
Syaoran laughed and turned off the water. "Sure. Of course."
He followed her down the hall to the bathroom in silence. She sat at the edge of the bathtub as Syaoran began to gingerly pull pieces of frosting from the soft strands of her hair, careful not to pull too hard. She smelled like sugar and vanilla.
"You never told me what happened, anyway," Syaoran said softly, trying to ground himself.
"Hm? How do you mean?"
"Your hair, the flour, the apron. What were you doing?" Syaoran frowned in concentration as he tried to pull several strands of hair apart from each other.
"Oh," Sakura said, and she let out a giggle that echoed through the bathroom. "Um... Well, you know that Eriol's company acquired Hito, I'm sure. And Tomoyo just got a promotion. So I was trying to bake them a celebration cake."
Syaoran smiled. "Trying?"
"Yes, trying. Clearly not succeeding," Sakura said with a laugh. She glanced up at him through her lashes, and her voice was quiet then. "I'd have tried to clean up a bit before coming to see you... But it turns out when the love of your life asks you to come back to him on national television, everything just feels a little more urgent. Who knew?"
Syaoran drew in a sharp breath, his heart suddenly doing something very painful in his chest. His hand drifted down to her chin, and he tilted her face up toward him. He'd forgotten, almost, how unfathomably deep green Sakura's eyes were, how easy it was to lose himself in them.
"For what it's worth, I can't get over how beautiful you are, flour and frosting and all," he murmured.
Sakura blushed, but she didn't avert her gaze from his. "You, too. I mean, minus the flour and icing."
Syaoran chuckled, and he pulled her up to her feet and kissed her long and hard, holding her against him, trailing his fingers along her shoulder blades. He felt Sakura gasp against his mouth and pull away, but before he could ask her what was wrong, she stared up at him and slowly dropped the towel from around her body, letting it pool around her feet in a heap on the marble bathroom floor.
Syaoran's mouth went dry. He swallowed, trying for only a moment not to stare before allowing his eyes to travel over her, all the familiar curves and marks and dimples of her.
He felt her eyes watching as he reached out to graze his fingertips against the lone freckle just above the valley of her breasts, the one he'd always loved most, and heard her sharp intake of breath as he trailed them up her sternum, along her collarbone, up her throat. His hand came to rest along her jaw, and when his thumb stroked her cheekbone, Sakura closed her eyes and let out a shaky exhale.
He pressed his lips against hers again. "Wanna shower?"
Sakura nodded, and Syaoran went to turn the shower on before stripping off his clothes. When he returned to Sakura, she had her arms around her chest, one fist at her mouth.
Syaoran frowned. "Sakura, you know we don't have to—"
Sakura shook her head. "No, I want to." She chewed her lower lip. "I'm just... appreciating."
"Appreciating?"
"I forgot how hot you are."
Syaoran burst into laughter and covered his eyes with one hand. "And I forgot about your total lack of filter. C'mere."
He pulled her to him, and he felt his toes curl when his body made contact with hers. He leaned down for one more kiss and led her to the shower.
"I'm so glad you never got rid of this shirt," Sakura said blissfully, twirling around in the well-worn, vintage Gundam t-shirt that she used to sleep in every chance she got. "It's my favorite."
Syaoran had kept the shirt in the back of one of his drawers, where he'd stuffed it right after the breakup and tried to forget about it. Now that he saw Sakura in it again, he was glad he'd never thrown it out.
"I know," he said with a chuckle. "Come on, get in bed."
Sakura crawled in beside him, snuggling into his side, and even after all of the different shades of happiness he'd experienced that evening, this elicited a new kind of joy, like his body was remembering something it had forgotten.
"Are you sleepy?" Sakura whispered, after a few moments' silence.
"Not really."
"Me, either."
Syaoran stared at her for a while, fingers trailing up and down her spine.
"What're you thinking about?" Sakura asked.
"Trying to let it sink in that you're really here." Syaoran shook his head. "I think I spent most of the last year dreaming about this exact scenario. I'm a little afraid I've done it so much that I can't separate dream from reality anymore."
Sakura blinked at him before sitting up and leaning over him to kiss him softly on the lips. "It's real. I promise."
"Yeah?" Syaoran whispered. "How will I be able to tell?"
"Because, in the morning, when you wake up," Sakura said, drawing circles on his chest with her fingers, "I'll be here."
Syaoran watched her in silence for a while, pondering his luck. He couldn't fathom what he'd done for the universe to grant him this outcome, and perhaps, he thought, that was why he was so afraid that it would all be taken away in a heartbeat.
Something about the thought made him ache in a new way, with a sense of desperation, and he sat up and kissed Sakura again, rolling them over so that her head was on the pillows and he was leaning over her. Perhaps Sakura sensed it, too, this urgent need to be together, as she pulled him so close that he worried he might crush her.
Syaoran pulled away briefly, breathing hard. "Sakura, I—"
"I'll be here," Sakura repeated, eyes on his. She brought a hand up to stroke his cheek. "Okay?"
Syaoran stared down at her, still panting slightly, and the rush of love he felt for her then was so potent that it hurt him. He nodded. "Okay."
When they kissed again, it was slower this time, softer. He felt her nails moving up and down his back, scratching ever so slightly, as he dipped down to press kisses against her neck, her collarbone, her throat, feeling her pulse with his tongue. Sakura sat up briefly and slipped off her shirt. Syaoran ran his tongue down her sternum and over her breasts, hands roaming along her stomach and hips and finally between her legs. Sakura bucked when he felt the wetness of her core with his fingertips, and Syaoran continued to move down further, lips on her stomach, then at the dip just above her hipbones.
"Syaoran," Sakura gasped, and then she let out a moan as Syaoran brought his tongue to her clit.
He glanced up at her, remembering the euphoria of seeing this look on her face—eyes shut tight, mouth half-open, brows creased as she breathed and gasped his name over and over in a prayer—and he committed the image to memory just before he pulled her over the edge.
Fuck it, he thought. If this was just a dream, he would just have to figure out a way to never wake up.
"So you're a movie star again," Sakura murmured, eyes alight with wonderment. "Wow."
It was remarkable, Syaoran thought, how much he discovered he'd missed about being with her in the short three hours she'd been back in his life. As they lay in bed, talking late into the night in the lamplight, trading stories from the last year and laughing, Syaoran was hit with just how much Sakura's companionship had both soothed him and fulfilled him.
Syaoran chuckled. "I mean, we'll see. The movie doesn't come out until next year. I think whether or not I can be classified as a movie star depends a lot on how well it does."
"You're always so humble," Sakura teased.
"Well, what about you?" Syaoran said. "Your podcast is huge, and I haven't heard you talk about it once."
"Oh, it's just a passion project."
Syaoran frowned. "Shouldn't that be even more reason to celebrate it? For as long as I've known you, Sakura, you've wanted to chase your dreams in the journalism world. And after everything that set you back, you still found a way to do it and succeed. Aren't you proud of that?"
Sakura blushed. "I—well, I guess so."
Syaoran leaned over and kissed her. "Good. Because I can't tell you how proud I am of you, too."
Sakura beamed at him, even as she blinked sleepily. "Thank you, Syaoran."
"You're going to keep it up, right?"
Sakura nodded. "Tomoyo has to quit soon... Her job is getting too busy for her to keep doing the podcast, too."
"Oh," Syaoran said, frowning. "That's too bad."
"It's okay," Sakura said. "I'm going to give it a try by myself for a while, but if it doesn't work out, I'm going to try to work my way back into print journalism."
"The podcast should help, right?"
"Mmhm. I'd think so. I hope so," Sakura added with a soft laugh. "What about you? What do you think you'll do now?"
Syaoran shrugged. "Take a break first. Matsura and I have talked about my options and I could write and produce for some of his newer artists for a while while I figure out what I want to do long-term. But I've always loved writing music, so it doesn't sound like a bad replacement gig."
"Are you sad about quitting performing?"
Syaoran could hear the concern in her voice and shook his head immediately. "No. Not at all."
"Promise?"
"Yes, I promise. I had a lot of time to think about this, Sakura."
"'Kay," she whispered, eyes fluttering shut. "I'm going to trust you."
Syaoran chuckled. "Thanks." He glanced over her head at the clock on the nightstand. "It's almost four in the morning. We should probably sleep, don't you think?"
"Mm... I wanna keep talking, though. I feel like we have so much to catch up on," Sakura mumbled.
"Well," Syaoran whispered, already turning out the lamp and kissing her forehead, "I'd say we have lots of time to do that, don't you think?"
"Mm. I really hope so," Sakura sighed. "Good night, Syaoran."
"'Night, Sakura."
"I love you."
Syaoran felt his breath catch in his chest for just a second. "I love you, too."
That night, Sakura fell asleep with her fingers intertwined with his.
When Sakura woke the next morning, she wasn't immediately certain why she felt so different, why she could breathe so easily today, and then she looked around and remembered where she was.
Late-morning light filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Syaoran's bedroom. He wasn't in bed, and Sakura sat up, glancing around. The door was slightly ajar, and she could smell the hint of coffee and something savory in the air.
Sakura got out of bed and went to the dresser to pick up her leggings from the night before. Slipping them on, she walked down the hall toward the kitchen, where she could hear the sounds of cookware clanging against a pan and something frying. Syaoran stood at the stove, and a plate piled high with French toast and pancakes topped with fruit sat in the middle of the breakfast table, next to a carafe of orange juice. Sakura felt a fluttering of joy somewhere beneath her sternum—for the first time in a year, she felt like she was home.
"Syaoran?"
Syaoran turned around, and the smile that lit up his face was breathtaking. "Good morning."
Sakura took a few more steps forward and closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around him. "Morning."
Syaoran kissed the top of her head, and when she pulled back to look at him, he leaned down to kiss her on the lips. "Sleep well?"
"Yes. Very. Can I help with anything?"
"No, I'm almost done with these eggs and then I think we can eat—unless you want anything else?"
Sakura stared up at him and tried to bite back a stupidly big smile. His hair was mussed, lips quirked up in a tiny grin and brows raised in question. Seeing him like this now, after all that time she'd spent diligently avoiding even pictures of him, felt so wonderful that she felt like it was almost forbidden, in a way.
"No, this is more than enough," Sakura said, shaking her head. "I'll get the coffee and set the table, at least."
Sakura poured two mugs of coffee and brought them to the table, and as Syaoran finished cooking, he joined her with a plate of eggs and sausages in hand.
As they began to eat, she finally let herself smile and hummed in appreciation. The French toast, which had always been one of her favorite things that Syaoran made, was just as good as she remembered—melt-in-her-mouth buttery with the perfect amount of sweetness. "I really missed your breakfasts."
Syaoran grinned. "Just my breakfasts?"
Sakura playfully whacked his arm. "Obviously more than just that."
"So," Syaoran said, setting his fork down. "What now?"
Sakura bit her lip. She knew exactly what he meant, but the sudden nerves that came to life in her stomach made her ask him anyway. "What do you mean?"
Sakura watched Syaoran fiddle with his fork before he stilled his hands by placing them around his coffee mug.
"I mean... I heard your message, Sakura—on your podcast. And..." He turned to her. "I know I could be happy with you, too. And you're here now, so... I guess, does that mean what I want it to mean?"
Sakura felt her heart break a little at the fear in his voice. She leaned forward and took his hands, warm now from holding the coffee mug, and held them in hers. "Yes. Whatever it takes. You're what makes me happy, Syaoran. So, if you want to be together, I do, too."
Syaoran had been staring at their hands. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and as Sakura drew in a sharp breath at the glow in his eyes, he leaned in to kiss her.
"Okay, then," he whispered against her lips. Sakura could feel him smiling. "Welcome home."
that's it! that's the end (although there will be an epilgoue soon)! ten years and tens of thousands of words... i actually can't believe it's done. thank you SO much to everyone who supported this fic and reached out over the time i posted it. it's crazy to think how different life is now from when i started this, but the constant throughout is how wonderful everyone has been in encouraging me and showing this story love.
i love you guys.
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