telepathic predictions

Present Day, Tokyo

"Let me tell you, Iwaizumi. The wife wants another kid, but that's not going to solve all of our problems. If anything, it'll just add to it. Right!? Being a father is a fulfilling duty, but I didn't ask for more bills," Businessman 3.0 murmured after gulping down his third shot. He'd been coming to our izakaya for the past three weeks; I should know his name by now, but these men blurred together in my mind—a soup of midlife crises. Bar Akane in the Ebisu neighborhood attracted everyone, from college lovebirds to exhausted nine-to-five office employees. People-watching as a bartender was my small, personal perk.

A Thursday night. Worn-down overcoats. Gray Hair. Sunken eyes. A few pot bellies, here and there. It was the usual stir of folks.

They all looked a bit too alike. It was eerie. I pictured myself ending up in a bar, unleashing my problems onto a broke, young university student just trying to mix some gin and tonic.

Nope. God, please never let that be me.

Working as a bartender was what I needed because, for the time being, I was not these men, shit-talking women and drinking their problems away. At least I had not fallen down the pit of crippling, toxic masculinity. I was still finding light in this weird, chaotic world. Sometimes, just this thought alone would get me out of bed.

Businessman 3.0 squinted down at his watch. "Fuck, I have to get back to the wife. I'll take a beer for the road, and a box of tempura shrimp for the kiddos," he added, handing me the cash.

As I prepared the man's order, a familiar voice echoed through the room.

"HEY, HEY, HEYYY," the deep voice rattled, catching everyone's attention. Bokuto and Kuroo entered the building, waving with huge smiles. Bokuto reached over the bar and patted my back with too much force. It was his classic greeting, and somehow, it never got old.

"Popped in for a drink?"

"We were heading down to Shinagawa to run some errands, but Bokuto insisted on stopping by. We were supposed to switch lines, but, out of nowhere, Bokuto shouts your name. Everyone glared at us as he was like Iwaizumi... We need to check on Iwaizumi! He probably misses us! We can't pick up our packages until we see Iwaizumi. He needs us, Kuroo. Please, Kuroo, we need to get off this stop! He's probably thinking about us right now."

"Okay, I do not talk like that," Bokuto sneered.

"Oh, yes you do, my friend, but it's all good. I was craving a drink anyway."

I smiled. It was nice hearing their banter again.

After quitting volleyball, I met Kuroo at one of our high school science fairs. Even back then, he always noticed my loneliness and worked hard to pull me out of my depressive slumps. Kuroo would drag me to his parties and spontaneous outings, where I grew close to his group of friends: Bokuto, Akaashi, Kenma, Tsukishima, and a bunch of other supportive folks. Having friends again after losing Oikawa saved my teenage years.

The group was now spread across Japan. Actually, we scattered ourselves all over the world. Tsukishima, who Oikawa once saw as a threat, was now playing for a US college team. Akaashi switched careers and picked up pottery in South Korea. Kenma took an offer to travel the world as a professional gamer. For a long-distance couple, him and Kuroo never stopped loving each other. Nonetheless, Tokyo became our home base. The city always brought us back together.

We could go weeks without seeing each other, but these friends always showed up when I needed them most. It was like some telepathic knowledge. Magic, if you asked me.

I prepared three whiskey sours for us. "Drinks are on the house, boys."

"Kanpai!" Kuroo cheered. He raised his eyebrow at me. "Did you see the new Nike campaign? Oikawa is now the Japan collection's official spokesperson. His face is everywhere. Skytree. Midtown. Plaza Omotesando. Tokyo station. There is no escape."

"I'll drink to that," Bokuto chimed. "I tried closing my eyes, but those iconic Oikawa eyes were staring me back down. Fuck, I'm going to have weird dreams about him."

"Hm, maybe I'll catch an Oikawa billboard on the next commute, but I haven't thought about him in a while," I lied, and Kuroo noticed.

"Man, you need to reach out to him! You two were such good friends."

"I would, but he's busy now. All of these deals and campaigns. Modeling for this and that. I wouldn't even fit into his schedule. Besides, that was a long time ago. Oikawa probably doesn't even remember me anymore."

"If I had his fame, I would buy Akaashi and I a penthouse in New York City!" Bokuto chuckled. "Just kidding, I would buy a penthouse for all of us, so Iwaizumi wouldn't be stuck serving vodka shots to these depressed, middle-aged men."

"Hey! Don't say that. I'm also... depressed," I sang out.

"Damn, me too, but let me dream up a life for us."

"Back to reality, you two," Kuroo smirked. "Someday, Iwaizumi, you will be on the train, and he will be there. You will see him. He will see you. You will realize how much you needed him. He will realize how much he misses you. The universe works in weird ways, but I just have a feeling that he'll be back in your life when you least expect it."

"Are we talking about Tsukishima?" Bokuto deadpanned, chugging the remainder of his drink.

"No, dumbass. Oikawa."

"OH, yes. You are very right. That will definitely happen."

I rolled my eyes and wiped down the bar. "Yeah, yeah, we'll see about that."