AN: I'm trying to write a thousand words (at least) every day. It's not exactly working. Basically, Chinese people eat really quickly- it's terrifying.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.

"Su Tong," her father says to her, breaking her trance.

Dinner is wonderful- sinfully extravagant, actually. Out of habit, she's gotten herself a bowl of rice and vegetables only. But to think- all that food on the table… She remembers the canteen vendors scraping leftovers off the big tins and into the bin, and shudders. And now, she can't help but wonder where all the food will go.

"I didn't know you were vegetarian?" he tries again.

"I'm not." And to prove her point, she takes a meatball from a simpler looking dish. "…are you?"

"No, I'm not. It would be a waste, honestly," he says, "if I were to be vegetarian. So much food in the world lost to morals."

"This," she says, unable to stop herself, "is a waste."

He looks at the food on the table, and scratches his neck sheepishly. She places her chopsticks down and grabs at the cup for tea. Looking abashed, he peeks to see if she's angry, and relaxes when her face is composed into her usual look of disinterest.

"Well, I've gone overboard. But we can keep them in the fridge?"

She keeps quiet, gathers her dishes and exits the dining room. Surveying the dishwasher, she contemplates its different buttons and spends a minute operating it. Her father is standing by the doorway, watching quietly. She reaches for the soap and cleans herself, careful with the tap.

"Are you sure you're full? You should eat more, you know?"

"Food," she begins to say, "gets cold easily. I'll be calling home now."

He looks at her oddly, and doesn't bother her anymore when she sidesteps him and goes back to her room.

"Ma," Su Tong, in the safety of her room, breathes. "Ma, Ma, Ma."

"Tong? What's wrong?" Her mother's voice, though distorted by the speakers, is still as warm as ever. "Did something happen at school?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

Su Tong bites down an annoyed 'I want to go home', and swallows all her 'Please make Yuusuke arrange for me to stay at the boarding school; I can't stand him'. She is past the stage of being whiny, and far too far away from home to achieve anything but disappointment on her mother's side if she keeps behaving childishly. So instead, like all the other days, she bottles her anger and frustration and pushes it past her chest, down beneath her solar plexus and below her soles; she walks on steam and salt and dashes of pain and never lets these troubles break her.

"Nothing."

"…I'm hanging up."

Slowly, Su Tong says, "Ma, how about you?"

"Me? What about me?"

"Do you miss me," she teases, feeling like she's seven all over again. "Your darling daughter?"

Her mother chuckles and everything feels alright again. "It's a lot quieter without you here. I can sleep peacefully now."

"Peacefully?" Su Tong asks, feigning hurt. "You can still sleep after abandoning your daughter in a place so, so far away from home?"

"My eye bags have vanished along with you; of course I'm going to get more sleep!"

"I'll return after the next year," Su Tong promises playfully, "and then we'll see if your conscience still allows you to sleep peacefully!"

"For Lunar New Year's," her mother adds, softly. "Will you be coming back?"

"I will."

There is a brief moment of silence before her mother asks, "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, I have."

"Are you going to sleep now?"

"I'll do my homework first."

"That's good. Sleep early, okay?" her mother lets out a deep sigh. "And make more friends there."

"I will."

"I mean it. Make more friends, and tell me more about your day. Promise?"

"I promise." And then, softer, "Ma, don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"Okay. I'm hanging up. Rest early."

"Bye," Su Tong says, pulling the phone from her ear and resting her thumb on the red little button.

Pressing her back flat against the headboard of the bed, Su Tong shuts her eyes. The physical distance seems to have made itself apparent even in their conversation- she can't think of a time where talking (and only talking) to her mother left her so tired and lost. If she were in China, if she were in China, then maybe it would be easier because there would be no need for her to shape her words for her mother to understand. Just one look and her mother would cup her cheeks, whisper tiny tales and weave comfort into her braided hair, slipping through a loop and winding around her fingers, before seeping into her veins and calming her heart.

Su Tong doesn't remember how she was coaxed into leaving China for Japan, nor how she managed to accept her mother's wishes without a single word. But then again, she never really made- or actually, cared to make any friends back in China. She kept mostly to herself, and her silence was never really noted in the bustle and hustle of the class.

But, she thinks, we were happy.

Her Japanese is improving- she can accurately pick out scattered bits of gossip and swooning. But this is no time to be praising herself. Slinging her case over her shoulder, she stares on resolutely at the Student Information Board. Scanning through the neatly pressed pamphlets, she prays hard for the few words to appear amongst the prim-and-proper letters.

"Host Club…?" she reads out, and raises an eyebrow at the amount of space that club has resorted to taking up.

Brothel?

"Music Room Three…"

Musical brothels?

Shrugging it off, she turned her attention to a tinier piece of paper, slightly dog-eared and peeling: Ouran Orchestra. Bingo.

"Music Room One," she reads out, with a bit more hope.

Making friends was an impossible task. But now, with a more organized and systematic sort of environment within a club with regular interactive hours, it was guaranteed that she would be able to become someone's acquaintance, at least. Furthermore, with a common interest (assuming that they were fond of music like her), conversation would probably be more guided and less of a train wreck.

It's a step in the right direction, Su Tong thinks. Even if she does end up ignoring them all over again.

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