Oikawa was still on the phone—unusual for him. True, he wasn't the one doing the talking and he'd probably have hung up a while ago if he could have. Oikawa hated the phone. Very surprisingly. He always said how it sounded insincere as if everyone was preoccupied on something else when speaking over the phone.
"You should call him, Wakatoshi-kun." Atsumu used to tell me and in the beginning, I called Oikawa pretty often. When I say in the beginning, I mean when the first time Oikawa showed up at one of our practices looking for me, looking like he had just braved through an apocalypse. Before we moved in together, obviously. According to Atsumu, all people who seemed clingy by trait were secret agents in the employ of the telephone company. But whenever I spoke to Oikawa on the phone, he always sounded irritated.
"Maybe we should talk about this phone thing," he said one day.
"What phone thing?" I said looking down at the one hundred yen coin I was holding in my hand. It was a rainy night, and I was calling him from some bar with a Mexican theme.
"I mean, don't feel like you have to keep calling me all the time," he said. "Anyways, you don't really like talking on the phone either do you, Ushiwaka-chan?"
I had to admit that he was right. "No. How did you know?" I looked over at Atsumu who was sitting at the bar drinking with his back to me. I vowed then never to heed his theories about people again.
"Wanna drink?" A glass was thrust in front of my face. Oikawa's long phone conversation had come to an end and I hadn't noticed.
"What's this?"
"It's called a Silver Streak—gin and kummel."
It was clear like nihonshu. I took a sip just to be polite and gave it back to Oikawa. Drinking was one habit Oikawa picked up since he injured himself that I disapprove of but will keep quiet so long as it's in moderation.
"Seems like Iwa-chan is having mother-in-law problems."
"Oh?" Iwaizumi, the ace of Seijoh, capable volleyball player, reliable orthopaedist for Oikawa and also Oikawa's best friend from childhood. His one and only friend, according to Oikawa. I smiled because I know that's not true, he was still very much in touch with his other friends from Seijoh and Todai. And myself, I hope.
Firm and mature, Iwaizumi was so wildly different from Oikawa that the many times I had seen them together the strangeness of their attempts at communication had been pretty engrossing and I daresay entertaining. It usually ended up with Iwaizumi calling Oikawa a funny name.
"I guess most mothers-in-law are impossible," Oikawa said. Then he added, "Well your mom is pretty nice if not too stern," with such sincerity that I felt a little bad.
At long last, her awkward gay son has a friend or two other than his boyfriend. It was proper that his mother should be nice to those who would be there for him. I couldn't help but felt a little bad for Atsumu who was rather intimidated by her the one time they met. "Well, isn't your mom a tough nut to crack," he tried to joke at the time, but I remember the nervousness laced in his tone.
Suddenly, a cushion came flying across the room and hit me in the face. I looked up to find Oikawa sitting on the sofa, his lips drawn tightly together into a straight line.
"You're not listening."
Oikawa's always quick to start throwing things around.
"Sorry. We were talking about Iwaizumi, right?"
"Yeah, and tomorrow I'm supposed to go over to his place. I might be a little late. Is that fine?" I said it was fine.
"Want me to pick you up around ten?"
Oikawa shook his head and looked me straight in the eye.
"Why don't you go see 'Tsumu-chan for a change?" His tone was serious as if we were discussing something important. "I bet he really misses you." Atsumu's six years younger than me and he's still in university working hard to get drafted into the national men's team so we don't get to be on the same training regime a lot.
It was a strange feeling, a good friend worrying about his friend's lover. A friend who used to be very much in love with the former in the past.
"Atsumu is not the sort to feel lonely. But thanks for being so thoughtful.
"Alright." Persuaded, Oikawa smiled and finished off what was left of his cocktail.
My mother called me during practice the next day. I had just finished my morning rounds and was having a cup of hot chocolate at the cafe upstairs.
"How is everything going?" She asked.
"The practices have been going fine." It's rare that she would call me. Normally if she needed to talk to me she would drop by my place in person, which was not often, but I knew why she did. She had something she wanted to discuss. Not with Oikawa around but just with me. "How's grandmother?"
"Oh, she's fine. She misses you a lot, you should come and visit her one of these days." My mother was skilled in sticking a knife where it hurts and twists it to make one goes her way with her words. "How's Oikawa-san?"
"Fine," I said nothing more as I waited for her to get around to whatever it was she wanted to say.
"The house is so empty without you," she said sadly. For some reason, I could feel her shoulders sag along as she speaks. "It's so cold this winter…"
"It is cold," I agreed. "There's something going around too, so be careful," I said.
"Is that so? Because my throat does feel a little sore." I'm not sure if it's because of age but I'm not used to this version of mother sounding so vulnerable and maybe just a tad bit lonely. Perhaps I really should visit her and grandmother one of these days.
"I'm sure grandmother can make you something." My grandmother was a herbalist and growing up she had always made sure to brew up some of her outrageously bitter concoctions that were apparently good for my growth. "What was it you really wanted to talk to me about?" I spoke first to help her along, since she seemed to be having so much trouble getting to the point.
"Wakatoshi, you know you're turning thirty this year," she said, voice low and careful. I have a hunch where the conversation is going already.
"Yes, and?"
"And why are you still living with Oikawa-san?"
"Mother, we've been through this before, Oikawa is an important friend and he needs my help right now."
"I know the poor boy had a lot on his plate but don't you think you should maybe consider going separate ways? You're already thirty..." Turning thirty suddenly became thirty. "Have you thought of maybe meeting someone and say—starting a family?" With a practice match scheduled later, I really couldn't be bothered to point out how I'm still very much in a sturdy relationship with Atsumu and have no intention of meeting anyone else otherwise. I bit back the urge to heave a sigh into the phone.
"Sorry to disappoint you, mother, but as I've told you before I am currently focusing on my career and haven't planned anything of that sort in the near future."
"Well, it's just not normal to start too late in life, Wakatoshi." Things that are different always seemed to distress her.
I gulped down the last of my chocolate and said, "I'll think about it, mother," and chuck the paper cup into the trash bin by the elevator. "I'll let you know as soon as I come up with any decision. If and when."
The line went silent and I could hear her disappointment through the phone. But then I heard a sigh and a defeated 'okay'.
"I'll come to visit you and grandmother soon. Please drop by sometimes too, you haven't been to the new house, have you? I'm sure Oikawa would love to see you again, too."
"I'll come to visit very soon, and come home anytime—grandmother would be pleased," she said. "Wakatoshi." Then came her trump card. "Don't forget, you're my only son."
The phone disconnected into an off-hook tone before I could object. I stood there and the floor lamp going up and down but never stopping at my floor. I heaved a heavy sigh.
I pressed the elevator button and dialed Atsumu's phone number by memory. He should be having a break from practice around the same time and if not I figured I'll just drop him a voicemail. As I called I thought, "Funny Oikawa told me to call him. I want to see him tonight like I haven't in a while."
I got home to find Oikawa singing to himself again. Well, actually, not quite to himself. He was singing to the framed Iwaizumi photo perched on the wall amongst others. Hologram seemed to be the song of the day. He's kind of quirky like that sometimes, my housemate.
"Hi, I'm home."
I loved the look on Oikawa's face when he turned around to welcome me home. First, a look of complete surprise spread over his features, as if to say, I never even dreamed you would come home, followed by a slow smile. Ah, now I remember, it seemed to say. His reaction filled me with a sense of relief every time. I know his insecurities and anxiety post-injury seemed to demand some degree of attention from me time and again. But this person here was not counting the hours and minutes until I came home.
"How was Iwaizumi?" I asked, taking off my coat.
"Iwa-chan's better than I thought he'd be."
"Well, that's good."
"I asked him to come over for the Bean-Throwing Day on Saturday. The wife and kid are coming too."
"Bean-Throwing Day?"
"It's the Setsubun. February 3rd."
Traditional holidays that called for festive behavior were really big with Oikawa. In fact, one of the few times I tasted his cuisine was when he made that Thanksgiving turkey last year. Chopping and stuffing herbs clumsily, he had told me that age-old customs were quite romantic in his opinion.
"It's that time of the year already, huh?" I said.
"And you're playing the oni, okay Ushiwaka-chan?" This was spoken in a tone that left no room for discussion.
I was in the bath when Oikawa came through the door, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He was still in his clothes.
"Tell me a story about 'Tsumu-chan."
"What kind of story?" Nothing impeded my past crush when he felt bored.
"Any kind."
I thought about it for a while, until I remembered a story that wouldn't take too long to tell. While I was in the tub, Oikawa stood in the washing area; when I got out to rinse myself off, he sat on the edge of the tub and listened quietly to my story.
"Few people love pranks more than Atsumu. And for him, friends aren't interesting targets. He has to choose a victim from the innocent general populace. He's got a whole variety of pranks and they're all innocuous, but one that I really liked is pulled off at the movies. He finds someplace where they're showing a real tearjerker—say about parted lovers of a terminally ill little boy—and sits right next to someone he judges to be a big weeper for these things. It might be a college girl on a cute date with her cute boyfriend. It might be a young woman who's dressed as she might work at a day-care center. And then, just when she's about to start crying when tears are beginning to fill her eyes, Atsumu sneezes. And it's a serious sneeze we're talking about. And the poor girl lost her chance 'to let it all come out'. So she ends up with a runny nose and this contorted look on her face."
Suddenly I could picture it, and a smile formed on my lips. Atsumu was a prankster with true flair.
"Why would he want to do something like that?" Oikawa's expression was stern.
"I don't know," I said. Atsumu hated pity and made fun of people who wept in public. "That's just the way he is," I said, rinsing myself off in the shower. Atsumu had zero tolerance for people who never asked themselves if some of their own acts might not be more embarrassing than being gay.
There's nothing like a drink of Evian just after you get out of the bath. You can feel the pureness of the water spreading through your whole body. It makes me feel cleansed, purified, all the way to my fingertips. I went out on the veranda and gulped the water down noisily.
"I hate the bottles your Evian comes in," Oikawa said. He was bundled up in a blanket, his hands around a hot glass of whiskey. "You want to share the blanket? You'll catch a chill if you're not careful."
"I'm fine," I said. "It feels good."
I tinkered with the garden system on my planter. It was a gift from Oikawa.
"The thing I don't like about Evian bottles is that weird flimsiness. It doesn't feel like a bottle at all," he said while he stood up and looked through the telescope. He motioned at me to do the same and proceeded to explain the light of Rigel, reaching us from nine hundred lightyears away through the telescope. Procyon from eleven, and Capella from forty. I smiled as I looked up through the telescope at a small, neatly trimmed patch of sky—the outer space was something that Oikawa was passionate about apart from volleyball and I'm glad he still has this. Within my round, cut-out section of the universe, more stars than I could fathom were twinkling and shining. I rubbed my eyes, dazzled by the stars.
"I'll go heat up the bed for you," he announced and disappeared into the bedroom. I liked watching Oikawa's back while he ironed the sheets. It was weird. He took it so seriously. All he needed to do was warm up the bed a bit, but he insisted on ironing out every last crease and wrinkle he could find until the whole bed looked incredibly crisp.
"Oikawa"
"What," he said, smiling and tilting his head to one side.
"You remember what we decided when we moved in together?"
"What," Oikawa said again. "We decided on heaps of things, Ushiwaka-chan. What are you talking about?"
"About lovers."
"You mean 'Tsumu-chan?"
"No," I said. "I mean yours."
His face clouded over. "If you're talking about Tobio-chan, we broke things off completely. I've already told you that before."
"But you're free to see other people. That's what we said."
"And if I bring a guy home every night, it's not gonna bother you?" Oikawa asked, a bit provoking. I felt a lump stuck in my throat, I haven't really thought of how I'd feel if he started seeing someone but it's unfair for Oikawa if he doesn't search for his happiness just because it might invade my privacy? Or maybe just a little uncomfortable for me? I hate myself for thinking in this selfish way and can't help the little guilt that swelled inside.
"Just being with you is good enough for me, Ushiwaka-chan," he said teasingly and pulled the plug out of the outlet. "Go ahead, it's ready," he said, turning around to face me. "You can get into bed now."
I closed my eyes but couldn't fall asleep. I tossed and turned for a while but eventually gave up. When I opened my eyes, I could see the faint light coming in from the tiny gaps between the door frame. I looked at the clock. It was past one already. "You still up?" I hollered. I threw on a sweater and opened my bedroom door, making my way downstairs. Oikawa was in the living room. I could feel the tension in the air and I knew right away that he was feeling depressed. The bright light dazzled my eyes and I blinked my way over to where Oikawa was sitting on a cushion, hunched over a table drawing something quietly and intently on a piece of paper.
"What are you doing?" I asked as casually as I could and I glanced over at the whiskey bottle. What had started off the night three quarters was now down to a third.
Oikawa was making an oni mask. The red devil had horns growing out of its head. He was doing its sharp zigzagged teeth when I looked.
"That's pretty good."
Oikawa didn't respond. His next move would be one of two things. Either he would throw something, or he would burst into tears.
I felt helpless every time this happens.
Suddenly the hand holding the crayon stopped moving and without a sound, Oikawa began to cry. Huge teardrops welled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. From time to time, he let out a pained sob.
"Oikawa."
Oikawa covered his face with his hands and moaned quietly, and then started bawling like a child. He was saying something in between his sobs, but I couldn't make out what it was. "I can't understand what you're saying, Oikawa. Calm down and tell me slowly." There was nothing I could do but to be patient and wait. I knew trying to touch him or hug him would only make things worse. I crouched down beside him. Oikawa kept on crying for a very long time. In between sniffles and sobs, I could make out a few words. He seemed to be accusing me of something. "Ushiwaka-chan… Lovers…" But I couldn't make out what he was getting at. I practically dragged him into the bedroom and pushed him into bed.
"Good night."
Oikawa was still looking at me accusingly with teary eyes. His face was red and swollen. I reached out a finger and touched his hot and puffy eyelid. "Okay. I won't talk about lovers, ever," I said sadly and left his bedroom, resuming my sleepless night.
The Bean-Throwing party turned out to be a huge success. Iwaizumi was as lively as ever, his wife—the tiny manager from Karasuno, was as cheerful as he remembered and was pleasant throughout the occasion. And their young son, Jun, looked bigger every time I saw him. "How old are you now?" I asked him, and before I'd even finished my question, he held up three stubby fingers in front of my face and waved them about clumsily in the air. Then we started the bean-throwing rite, I put on the oni mask that Oikawa had made and everyone else started throwing beans at me all the while shouting, "Demons out! Luck in!" It was not a very fun experience to have roasted beans thrown at and it actually hurts. A lot.
After the party, we sat down for some beer. Oikawa insisted that we all eat the beans corresponding to our ages, so we counted them out, one by one, and made sure that everyone ate the right amount, like it or not. No doubt when we were eighty Oikawa would insist on eating exactly eighty beans. As I chewed on the beans, I tried to picture Oikawa at eighty, wrinkled and frail.
It was a strange feeling. Suddenly our inanimate little home was alive with human energy, and Oikawa and I were both starting to feel a bit restless and uncomfortable. It was creepy to think that all the energy and vitality was coming from one, small family. Jun bouncing up and down on the sofa and rattling the blinds open and shut, his young parents following carefully out of the corner of their eyes, ready to leap up and bring him under control the moment he got out of hand. We sat and watched the toons on TV with the kid, ate the delivery Setsubun package, and drank our beer.
"Children are such troublesome creatures," Oikawa said a tinge of exhaustion as he poured cold tea into the potted plant Atsumu had given us. Oikawa was convinced that the plant relished the tea he kept feeding it. He claimed the tree shook its leaves with pleasure every time he gave it tea.
"Ten o'clock already, huh?" He said.
Ten o'clock. It was around eight-thirty when our guests had finally gone clattering out of the house, so Oikawa must have been sitting there glaring at the plant for nearly an hour and a half now.
"How long are you going to keep sitting there like that?" I was about to ask him but he beat me to it.
"Ushiwaka-chan, do you realise you've been cleaning the house for an hour and a half now?"
"But there's fingerprints and stains everywhere—on the tables, the windows, the TV, all over the floor… On the phone…" Oikawa was giving me a strange look. "But you've been at it ever since they left. It's not normal."
But you've been at it ever since they left, it's not normal, I repeated after him silently while stroking my chin. I looked at him in the eyes and said, "We'd make a pretty good couple, you know, you and me. Like two peas in a pod."
"Eh? What's that supposed to mean?" Oikawa said. "I don't think we're alike at all. Ushiwaka-chan is boring," he continued with a pout.
"You want a drink?" I asked.
"Hmm—a double," he said. I got a bottle and some cucumbers and went out onto the veranda. I decided not to mention the conversation I'd had with my mother.
"You want some cheese?" Oikawa shouted from the kitchen.
"Sounds good," I called back, looking out across the vast fabric of nighttime sky. I bit into a cucumber and felt its fresh taste fill my mouth as I looked up at the stars.