Tea Time
"What...is this?", Ronaldo gave a confused look at the steaming cup that had been wordlessly placed in his hands.
"Uh, tea, duh?", Lars sneered, settling back in his spot on the couch after having been absent from the living room for several minutes after insisting he'd be back in a second.
"Well, of course it's tea," Ronaldo muttered, looking at the hand painted tea set Lars had set out, "But why did you give me it? I didn't even ask for tea."
Scowling, Lars groaned, picking up his abandoned video game controller, "Why are you asking so many questions? Can't you just be dumb like always and say thank you?"
"Hey," Ronaldo frowned, "How do I know it's not poisoned, or that you peed in it?"
"Dude, I literally just poured it right in front of you!", Lars screeched irritably, "I poured my own cup right after it! Just drink your goddamned tea!"
Ronaldo sighed, "Fine," and took a sip. He winced slightly, a little overwhelmed by how strong it was, "It's um-", he coughed, "A little bitter. Do you have any sugar or-"
"It's meant to be bitter, that's how you're supposed to drink it," Lars rolled his eyes, passing over the little sugar carafe, and continued mashing buttons, blasting at enemy soldiers, "Pick up your controller again, I'm getting my ass kicked here."
"Oh, right right," Ronaldo mumbled as soon as he'd stirred in a desirable amount of sugar, and took a sip, finding it satisfactory, and got back to playing the game, only picking up his cup every so often. After a bit, his cup was empty, and before he could even say anything, Lars was already refilling it, balancing his game controller on his knee.
"So...what's with the tea again?"
"None of your biz, just take it as it's given," Lars mumbled, staring at the screen.
"What is it some deep dark secret?", Ronaldo teased.
"No, " Lars whined, still focused on the game, "It's just...embarrassing."
"Tea? Embarrassing? Por Quoi?"
"Egh," the other groaned, pausing the game, "If you laugh, I'll murder you," he warned.
"Go on~", Ronaldo coaxed, smiling smugly.
Lars folded his arms, and lay back on the couch, feet facing his friend, "I have a system when I get home from work. I take my shoes off, put on house slippers, chill until 6:00, and then I make tea. I make enough for my dad to have when he gets back from work at 6:30, and if I have someone over, i.e. you, I make enough tea for them to have too. Then it's 7:30 dinner, 8:30 shower, 10:00 evening tea, and then I just screw around until I wanna go to bed...usually 3 AM," he mumbled, and sat up, pouring himself another cup of tea.
"And this is every day?" Ronaldo leaned back, watching his friend breath in the steam from the tea.
"Every day," Lars mumbled, and took a long sip, "Except weekends. Then I have tea when I wake up."
"What is it with you and making tea?", he asked with amusement.
Lars gave a shrug, rolling his shoulders back, "It just relaxes me, man. The whole process, getting everything set up on the table, getting the water boiled and stuff...I guess there's somethin' therapeutic about it for me."
"You break into conniptions over Animal Crossing, but putting a pot of tea in the microwave soothes you," Ronaldo snorted.
The other looked quite offended, "Microwave? What are you implying?"
"Nothing! I just figured you put the pot in the microwave, and put the teabag in-"
"Teabag?", Lars scoffed, "I do not use teabags, Ronaldo, I only use the finest loose leaf tea you can get around here! "
"Alright alright," Ronaldo rolled his eyes, imitating Lars' snark with good humor, "Take it down a notch, tea snob."
Lars stared at him indignantly as if he'd been struck across the face, "Excuse me for not wanting to drink the equivalent of horse piss! I don't even want to think how the hell you've been preparing tea all your life!"
"Um...in the microwave? Like everyone else-?"
Staring at him with a stiff, furious gaze, Lars stood up, "Alright. That's it. Get in the kitchen."
"What?"
"Kitchen," he glared again, "If I can help it, you are going to see how to really make tea."
"But we're almost at the final level of the game-"
"Forget the game, I'm teaching you a life lesson here, Fryman."
"Tea is life?"
"Tea is life," Lars affirmed seriously, and was grabbing the tea infuser, a bag resting on a rack among others like it, and Lars looked at the labeling on it, and muttered something Ronaldo couldn't understand, putting it next to the infuser, and Lars put a new kettle on, filling it with water.
"You better be paying close attention," Lars looked at his friend sternly, "I don't want to have to repeat myself."
"Lars, you can calm down a little, it's not like I drink tea that much anyway."
"Oh but you will," Lars grinned smugly, "Once you realize what it takes to make it right, you will."
"So when did you become such an expert on tea?", Ronaldo asked as they sat at the kitchen table, taste testing the batch of orange blossom Oolong they'd made together.
"Expert is too modest," Lars snickered.
"Fine, master of tea?", he giggled.
"Better," he nodded, still smirking, "My family's a bunch of tea lovers, not much else to say. My grandparents love tea, my dad loves tea, my mom loved tea...it's like genetics, man."
For sake of complimenting the tea, Lars had set out freshly cut orange slices, and because Ronaldo had pointed out the digestive biscuits in the cupboard as being really delicious (and Lars agreed, they were), he put them out on the table between the tea set and fruit.
"This set looks pretty fancy," Ronaldo admitted, looking at the hand painted detail on the cups, "Where'd you get them from?"
"My mom painted it," Lars admitted, "She liked making me tea and letting me use the cups. My dad would always warn me not to drop it, or I'd get in trouble with mom...She was always pretty chill about it though."
"Yeah, I remember she was pretty cool," Ronaldo admitted, remembering Lars' mother from when they were kids.
"Yeah, she was," Lars sighed. It had been so long since she passed, but he still missed her terribly. He sometimes still thought about her when he used her cups.
"...was she the one who taught you how to make tea?"
"Yeah," Lars smiled a little, seeming to brighten, "She told me all about why it was so important to drink this stuff, and why it was so important you made it right. And boy am I glad she taught me how to do it. Because before then, I hated tea," he snorted.
Ronaldo laughed, munching on another biscuit, and mouth caked in crumbs, he asked, "So what are the benefits to drinking tea so much? I mean, I drink green tea in cans sometimes, but it's only because iced tea is a curse on human nature."
Lars laughed, "Ditto on the last thing there," and drummed his fingers on the edge of his cup as he prepared to list off all the praises of tea, "It's one of the oldest drinks in the world, and still one of the most reliable, it can help stomachaches, headaches, body pains, cramps: both menstrual and non-menstrual, promotes better sleeping habits, calms anxiety, nausea, sore throats, helps treat the flu and colds, regulates blood pressure, and it promotes community."
"Where does that last one come in?", Ronaldo asked.
Lars pointed an orange slice in his direction, "Well, we're having tea together aren't we? "
"True..."
"And this tea set my mom made has at least three cups to use," he smiled genuinely, "What's the point of always drinking your tea alone?"
"Good point," Ronaldo grinned, and they clinked their glasses together gently.
Once they had finished, Lars was hand washing the cups, the saucers, the pot, and the kettle, Ronaldo watching from the table.
"I think this is a new side of you I'm seeing, Lars?"
"What's that now?"
"You're the biggest nerd about tea in the world," he teased.
Lars snorted, "Laugh all you want blogger boy. I've got the most regulated blood pressure in Beach City."
"Animal Crossing and Army of War would beg to differ," Ronaldo teased again, and he was forced to duck when Lars chucked a digestive biscuit at his head.
Looking at the destroyed cookie, he smiled, "Remember to buy more of those the next time I come over for tea."
"We'll see," Lars cracked a tiny grin.
Evenings after work were starting to look less lonely.
