Sorry for the long delay. Please review if you're still with me so I know to continue.
"Hello?"
"Hi!"
"Momiji? How did you get my phone number?"
"I sent myself a text on it when I was at your place. And now you have mine too!"
"Great."
"What's that tone for? Now we can talk on the phone whenever we want!"
"Are you going to be calling me at all hours of the day and night then?"
"Are you going to be sleeping at any of those hours?"
"Probably not."
"Then yes!"
"Oh boy…"
OOO
The first time he called her it was around 9 o'clock. They had talked for about fifteen minutes about homework, school, and other trivial topics. The second time was at 9:30 and lasted longer when they got onto the subject of movies. The third time at 10 continued without stopping for a full hour and a half when a literature assignment sparked an all-out debate the quality of certain books. The fourth time, Namie called Momiji.
She told herself it was for homework, a question about this or that that eventually gave way to something else, but really it was a routine. Over the next few weeks, every night at about 9:30 Namie would look to her phone on the corner of her desk, waiting for the inevitable ring. If it didn't come, her fingers acted for her, dialing the number to hear the chirpy response of "I was just going to call you! You beat me to it!"
By then, their conversations meander over any topic. Even though they saw each other every day at school, there was always something else to discuss.
"So Momiji, what was your weird habit as a kid."
"My what?"
"The other day when you were here, you had a funny look when I asked about stuff you did as a kid."
"It's not that important."
"Oh come on! Please?"
"Alright, I used to wear girls clothes."
"Like, occasionally for fun?
"No, more like all the time. I wore the girl's uniform to school for a year. Nearly gave the student body president at the time a heart attack."
"Really? Why?"
"I think he was wound a little tight, very concerned with propriety. He didn't believe Haru's hair was real, but after Haru showed him his—"
"No, I meant why did you wear girl's clothes?"
"Oh. I don't know. I guess I just liked it. They kinda fit me. I looked really girly and everyone thought I acted weird, like really young, so I thought I might as well dress funny too. The odd looks I got could make me laugh sometimes."
Silence for a beat.
"I can understand that. So why'd you stop."
"Just grew out of it I guess. I didn't really care so much about what I wore anymore. And I felt ok blending it a bit more."
"That kind of makes sense."
"Really?"
"Yeah I guess. It also explains why a good deal of our grade thinks you're gay."
"What? They do not!"
"I've been told you are by at least seven different people."
"I'm not gay! And stop laughing!"
"Ok, ok, I'm sorry. You've got to admit it's kind of the logical conclusion though."
"I suppose… Girl's clothes are just prettier than guy's clothes."
"Saying that is not helping your case Momiji."
The only boundaries they had were slight. Except for the occasional, "How's you mom?" Momiji knew not to ask about Namie's mother unless she brought it up first.
The other boundary was more unexpected. One night as the clock approached eleven, Namie asked if Momiji's parents minded that he was on the phone so late. They had been laughing and joking easily but at the question Momiji got very quiet.
For a moment Namie thought the connection had dropped.
"Momiji?"
"Oh," he said, still cheerfully but Namie could hear an awkward note that had nothing to do with the quality of the phone, "No."
"Really? My Dad walks by a gives me a look when he thinks it's too late."
"Well, I don't really live with my parents."
Namie took the phone away from her ear to stare at it, as if by doing so she could see Momiji's face.
"You don't?"
"No." Momiji's answer was short. "I live at the general family's main house."
"But—"
"Hatori's here though!" Momiji cut across her with another slightly forced jolt of excitement. "I'll put him on. Hey Hatori!"
Not quite knowing what to expect, Namie listened to a far off exchange, the sound of the phone being handed off, and another person sighing as the put the phone to their ear.
"Hello?" said a deep voice.
"Um, hello. I'm Namie, Momiji's friend."
"Ah," the solemn voice replied, but with a hint of a smile. "So you're the one Momiji always going on about."
"Uh yes. I suppose."
"I'm Hatori Sohma. Very pleased to speak to you."
A muffled noise came through, then Momiji's voice spoke again.
"That's Hatori. He's a doctor and he can be very boring sometimes, but he doesn't mind me talking so long as I don't do it too loud."
"Oh ok," Namie laughed. She was confused by the back and forth, but the unspoken message was clear. From then on, she did not ask about Momiji's parents again. He would talk easily about Haru and a few of his other cousins, and even Hatori and a group of men Namie could only assume were his uncles, but nothing about parents, or even about his family too specifically.
The last boundary was that, besides Momiji's question the first time he called her, they didn't talk about Namie's sleeping habits. It wasn't really so much a boundary though, as something they just didn't really bother to mention because it wasn't interesting. They both knew Namie didn't sleep, and they didn't dwell on it. Ever night after Momiji hung up and went to bed, Namie would debate attempting to fall asleep, or skipping the pointless tossing and turning. Most nights she spent the hours trying to do more homework, or watching TV or reading, or even doing laundry and other things around the house, before she finally collapsed from pure exhaustion an hour or two before sunset.
"You should go to bed," Namie said on night near midnight as she heard Momiji stifle a yawn. They had been talking every night for over two weeks and this was later than they normally went.
"Are you going to bed now?"
"No, I don't think so," she answered cautiously.
"Well then I'll stay up with you!" he replied cheerfully.
Namie laughed slightly. "You'll be up for a while. I think you'd better go sleep."
"You need sleep too," he countered.
"I still have things to do."
"Things that you honestly can't do tomorrow?"
Namie's silence was as good as assent. It was hard to blatantly lie to Momiji, even over the phone.
"Namie go to bed!" he cajoled
"I can't," she muttered. "I don't fall asleep."
"Well at least get in bed." There was a pause. "Are you in your pajamas?"
"Yes. What kind of a question is that?"
"So go sit in bed, don't hang up, just get under the covers."
Feeling ridiculous, Namie obeyed. She had no idea how he could tell if she was in bed, or even why she was bothering to follow his orders, but the rustling of the comforter seemed to satisfy Momiji.
"Ok, now we're going to stay on the phone until one of us falls asleep."
"Won't talking keep us awake?"
"We don't talk, we just have the phone next to us. Are you lying down?"
"Yes." Namie put her head on the pillow. "This is kind of weird."
"I think it's nice. It's like having company."
"But—"
"Shh, sleep."
Namie sighed and closed her eyes. Momiji was humming faintly to himself. She liked his voice. When he wasn't chirping excitedly, it had a soft, musical tone that flowed through her mind, very far away and yet close at the same time.
OOO
On the other end of the line, Momiji listened to Namie's soft breathing and smiled.
OOO
The clinking in the kitchen made Namie open her eyes suddenly. Her phone was sitting next to her head on the pillow. The battery was dead and sunlight was streaming through the windows. She bolted upright and hurried to the kitchen.
"What's going on?" she asked, disoriented. Her father turned to smile at her from the eggs was making on the stove as Anii and Jien looked up from the table.
"Good morning sleepyhead. I was just about to come wake you. You overslept so I thought I'd go in late and make breakfast for you for a change. Did you have a good sleep?"
Namie blinked a few times and rubber her sleepy face and tousled bed hair. "Yeah," she said, with a small smile. "I did."
Disclaimer: Fruit's Basket and its characters belong to Natsuki Takaya.