Two months. Two long, agonizing months of holding on, fighting every day to keep the dream alive. But no matter what we tried, no matter how hard we pushed, it was clear that the restaurant wasn't going to make it. The customers never came back, the social media damage had been too deep, and the money had finally run dry.
I stood in the empty dining room, the tables and chairs neatly arranged like they were waiting for people who would never come. The neon lights cast a soft glow over the room, and all I could think about was how full of life this place had been just a few months ago. Now, it felt like a tomb.
Sasha was standing beside me, her arms crossed, her face set in a grim expression. We both knew this was the end, but that didn't make it any easier.
"I guess that's it," I said, my voice heavy with the weight of the decision. "We're closing for good."
Sasha let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping. "Fuck. I still can't believe it came to this."
I nodded, staring down at the floor. "Neither can I. But we've done everything we can. There's nothing left."
We stood there in silence for a moment, both of us taking in the reality of what was happening. The restaurant we'd dreamed of, the place we'd poured our hearts into... it was all over.
Sasha finally turned to me, her eyes softening. "You did everything you could, Tristan. Don't beat yourself up about it. Sometimes shit just doesn't go the way we plan."
I forced a small smile, though it didn't reach my eyes. "Yeah. But it still feels like I let everyone down."
She shook her head. "You didn't let anyone down. We tried. That's more than most people can say."
I nodded, appreciating her words, but the guilt still gnawed at me. Letting go of the dream was one thing, but knowing that people had believed in me, had trusted me, and that I couldn't make it work... that was the hardest part.
"I guess it's time to start saying goodbye," I said quietly, my throat tightening as I spoke.
Sasha smiled sadly. "Yeah. I guess it is."
I had one last thing to do before closing up for good. I headed to Kevin's office, knowing that this would be my final conversation with him about the restaurant. I'd spent so much time trying to build something incredible, but at least I could leave him with something he cared about.
Kevin was sitting at his desk, surrounded by his usual clutter of monitors, empty cans of energy drinks, and anime figurines. He barely looked up when I walked in, too absorbed in whatever coding project he was working on. His greasy black hair was sticking to his forehead, and he was wearing another one of his ridiculous anime T-shirts—this time featuring some character with oversized eyes and a schoolgirl outfit.
"Hey, man," I said, knocking lightly on the doorframe.
Kevin glanced up, blinking in surprise. "Oh, hey, Tristan. What's up?"
I walked over to his desk and set down the box I'd brought with me. "I've got something for you. A thank you, for all the work you did on the website. Even though, you know... the restaurant didn't make it."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "What is it?"
I opened the box, revealing the Snow Miku 2014 figure I'd found online. Kevin's eyes widened in pure, unfiltered excitement as soon as he saw it. "Holy shit, dude! No fking way!"
I laughed, shaking my head. "Yeah. I figured you deserved it. You worked hard, and... I know how much you love your Miku."
Kevin was practically vibrating with excitement as he picked up the figure, turning it over in his hands like it was the Holy Grail. "This is fucking amazing, man. You didn't have to do this."
"I wanted to," I said, smiling. "It's the least I could do. Even though things didn't work out the way we wanted, you were always there to help."
Kevin grinned, his face lighting up in a way I hadn't seen in a while. "Thanks, Tristan. This is... yeah, this is fucking awesome."
I clapped him on the shoulder, feeling a bittersweet sense of closure. "You take care of her, alright?"
Kevin chuckled. "Oh, you know I will. Snow Miku's going right on the shelf next to my rare figures."
I smiled, feeling a strange sense of peace wash over me. At least Kevin was happy. At least someone got something good out of all this.
As I left Kevin's office, I felt a knot form in my stomach. There was one more goodbye I needed to make, and it was the one that hurt the most. Sasha had been by my side through it all—the highs, the lows, the endless grind—and now it was time to part ways.
She was waiting for me back in the restaurant, leaning against the counter, her eyes distant as she stared at the empty tables.
"Hey," I said softly, walking up to her.
She looked up, offering me a sad smile. "Hey."
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. How do you say goodbye to someone who's been through so much with you? Someone who's become more than just a business partner, but a friend?
"I don't even know how to say this," I admitted, my voice thick with emotion. "But... thank you. For everything. I couldn't have done any of this without you."
Sasha smiled, though there was a sadness in her eyes. "I should be the one thanking you, Tristan. You gave me a shot at something amazing. Even though it didn't work out... I wouldn't trade it for anything."
We stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of the goodbye hanging heavy in the air.
"I'm gonna miss this place," she said quietly, her voice breaking just a little. "But... I'm gonna miss working with you even more."
I felt a lump form in my throat, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "Same here, Sash."
She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. I hugged her back, feeling the warmth of her embrace, the finality of it all hitting me like a wave.
"Take care of yourself, Tristan," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You're gonna do great things, I know it."
I pulled back, giving her a small, sad smile. "You too. Don't let this stop you. You've got too much talent to let this be the end."
She nodded, wiping away a tear before it could fall. "I won't."
We stood there for a moment longer, both of us reluctant to let go. But eventually, the reality of the situation settled in, and we parted ways.
As I walked out of the restaurant for the last time, I took one final look around, letting the memories of what we'd built wash over me. It hadn't ended the way I'd hoped, but at least we'd tried. At least we'd given it everything we had.
And in the end, that was all anyone could do.
Q: Are you a Vocaloid fan?