Goodbye's Second Chance

'Cause After All This Time, I'm Still into You

Iwa

One of my earliest memories is seeing his chubby little face covered in icing and chocolate cake. There's a picture that my mom has somewhere of both of our cake-covered mugs, trying to shove still more in our mouths. The more I thought about it, he was there for almost every single one of my birthdays, and they were always days spent laughing until our stomachs hurt and cheeks ached from smiling. The only ones he missed were the two years following high school when we'd gone our separate ways, him to Argentina, me to California.

I remember those birthdays clear as day, more so than most of the ones that came before. The first year, my parents had facetimed me and my university friends had taken me out and by all accounts, they were wonderful. At least, for everyone else. I remember sitting at the bar in some exclusive club in LA that one of the guys got us into, drinking a Coke, and despite the club being packed to capacity, I'd never felt more alone in my life.

Even all the nights in my tiny room after moving halfway across the world hadn't felt this lonely. I thought about that chubby face covered in cake, brown wispy hair a tousled mess, even back then. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, hoping that maybe he'd text me a simple Happy Birthday. Instead, just the time and my lock screen staring back at me. My lock screen; a picture of us from high school high-fiving on the court, that had been the staple since second year.

The night I kissed him on the street as we walked home third year, the night I thought ruined everything, I'd considered changing it, even searched for a new picture, but nothing else ever felt right and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I sat there at the bar, amidst the thumping bass and mass of barely clothed bodies, and stared at my lock screen. The only thing I wanted was to hear his stupid voice saying, "Happy Birthday, Iwa-chan!". The one thing I'd probably never hear again.

The second year, I feigned sick and didn't even bother to go out. If I was going to feel that empty, that alone, there was no point in going out. I didn't think I could muster putting on a fake smile again when it felt like my entire heart was crumbling to dust. He'd avoided me entirely at Christmas when he came home. Knowing he was only a few houses away but I couldn't man up and go see him when I knew he was home haunted me almost as much as the night I'd kissed him.

I had no idea that my life would change completely just a few months after that birthday spent alone in my apartment, trying not to let the tears fall as I watched tv in the dark. Maybe it was a late birthday present from the universe or some god forcing me to get my head out of my ass and realize I hadn't ruined everything that night back in high school. Either way, that warm night in November, after what could only have been divined by the gods, a second chance meeting became the night my life truly began.

The following year, he bought me a plane ticket and told me to 'Meet him in LA'. With everything that had happened that previous Christmas; getting jumped on the way home from the bar, accidentally coming out to my mom, purposely coming out to my dad, I'd forgotten what he said in that little café in Irvine, but he hadn't. A promise to go to Pride with me for the first time; a promise he fully delivered on.

That year, an entire block full of people dressed in rainbow everything sang me happy birthday as the man I'd been in love with for longer than I even knew kissed me in the middle of the street, smack in the middle of Pride LA. The loneliness that had settled deep within me two years before had evaporated like a bad dream. There may have been a million people around us, but it only took one person, one man, to be my light in the darkness.

Every year from there out, he would fly to see me and just go completely over the top with the celebrations. I was never a big partier, but it never felt like an imposition, because he was there. We could have simply ordered pizza and watched anime reruns all night and my heart would have been just as full. I knew he was going all out because he loved me and I loved him for that.

Then the year came that the whole world ground to a halt and there was no flying to see anyone. He facetimed me at midnight my time in Japan and I could tell he'd been crying. He tried so hard to fake happy as he threw confetti at the camera and sang Happy Birthday, but the smile never touched his puffy, reddened eyes. After he'd finished and the conversation settled, I asked him why he'd been crying. "Why do you think? You there and I'm here." He said. "I still get to see you though." I replied. He looked away from the camera, sniffling. "It's not the same. This day is more important than any other day of the year." He said, a desperation in his tone I could tell he was trying to hide.

"It's just my birthday, it's not that big-" I started but he cut me off. "Don't you get it yet? It's the day my world began." He said quietly and I felt a lump form in my throat and I had to look away so he wouldn't see my lip quiver. To most people, that would have been over the top corny, like top-tier cringe, but knowing what we'd been through, both separate and together, I knew that he meant it.

A year later, though restrictions had been lifted, a tight Olympic-countdown schedule for both of us kept us on our respective sides of the world, but our facetime was much happier that go around. The year after that, we spent just the two of us at my apartment in Tokyo, still trying to heal all the wounds the previous year had caused. Even though it was just the two of us and some takeaway curry, it felt like that first birthday we spent together, surrounded by happiness and love on a packed street in LA.

Now I sit here, my fingers entwined with my husband's, who despite fighting sleep like a toddler, was determined to stay up until midnight. His sleepy, "Happy Birthday, my love." And sweet kiss on my forehead were the greatest birthday greeting yet. He nestled down into my shoulder and I turned to kiss him on the forehead as well, feeling him already falling asleep. My first birthday as his husband, as his forever, and he as mine. As I stared at our rings, glinting in the soft light of the room, I knew there wasn't a single thing I could ask for that could compare with that simple gift.

The world had tried to tear us apart, so many times. Childish misunderstandings, hate crimes, collateral damage in a Yakuza war, none of it could keep us apart. Through it all, he never once doubted his love for me and though I tried to repress it at first, there was never a doubt in my mind that I loved him the same way. From as early as I could remember, Oikawa meant happiness to me. He was my respite from a tyrannical and abusive father. He was the stupid grin that made me laugh even when I was seething inside. He was the pure joy that infected my very soul on and off the court.

As I waded back through all the memories, both good and bad, I eventually came to that cake covered chubby faced baby, as I always did, and I recalled what he'd said about his world beginning on this day and I laughed quietly to myself.

In the still of the dim room, the only sound being the buzz of the summer insects on that hot Argentine night, I whispered, "Silly Tooru, don't you know you've been my whole world from the very beginning?"

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I hope y'all liked this little bonus chapter. I couldn't let Iwa's birthday go by without doing a little something for him. 

Happy Birthday, Iwa-Chan!!

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