Chapter Text
Ding.
Ding.
Langa really, really tries to ignore it.
Ding.
Goddamnit.
It’s telling that he already knows who’s messaging him.
Ding.
The clock next to him read 3:12 am. Out the window, if he looks really carefully, Langa almost thinks he can make out the beginnings of a purpling, morning sky. He groans and buries his face back in his pillow.
Ding.
“Fuuuuuck.”
He snatches his phone up from where it’s charging next to him and sure enough:
Kyan Reki sent a post by @skateboard.vid
Kyan Reki this is so sicc
Kyan Reki sent a post by @natsukisawamoto_official
Kyan Reki ashsfhksjfhksdg my bisexual awakening
Kyan Reki sent a post by @pestosalad
Langa runs a hand over his tired eyes. He’s about to decide to leave it and answer Reki in the morning.
Ding.
His screen lights up again.
Kyan Reki shared a reel
Langa sighs, gives up, and opens Instagram.
He has thirteen messages from Reki. He opens his inbox, his eyes half lidded, pausing for only a second before clicking on Reki’s name to appreciate the new profile picture he seems to have added. It’s Reki and him, Langa realizes. A selfie they took at the skatepark. It’s too small to really make out the details in his instagram inbox, but he knows the picture well.
Langa doesn’t particularly like how he looks in the photo—he was caught off guard and it’s obvious in his expression. Reki, though, is in the midst of laughter, his eyes scrunched up and his smile wide and white. Langa thinks Reki might be the cutest boy he’s ever seen.
Like, objectively, of course.
Langa shakes off the thought and taps his screen. In his messages Reki’s sent him a mixture of memes, skateboarding videos, and his own reactions.
Reki, Langa types, it’s three in the morning.
Reki’s reply is instant.
sorry :(((
i’m bored
and i thought u would like them
Well now Langa just feels bad.
He watches a few of the videos to ease his conscience. The tricks are impressive, but his brain hardly registers them and he catches himself falling asleep twice.
I did like them, he tells Reki, before his eyes can slip closed again.
Reki sends him a smiley face and the face with steam coming out of its nose. Then, do u want to see more??
i have more
Langa sighs.
Man do you ever sleep
i’m not tired, Reki says.
Well I am, Langa replies.
Reki sends him a sad face and the pleading face emoji. Langa smirks a little.
Jesus, he types in English.
Reki sends the confused emoji.
Aw. English again. You’re adorable
Maybe he shouldn’t have sent that. It’s probably—no, definitely a weird thing to say. Sometimes Langa can get away with doing weird stuff like that, using the entirely bullshit excuse that he wasn’t raised in Japanese culture. But this particular message, for some reason, feels like an admission. One he doesn’t even know the meaning of.
langggaaaaaaaa, Reki says.
dont do that :(((
what does that meann
That’s for me to know, Langa says.
google translate exists, dude
i’m translating it
Uh, Langa hastily types, fine. I said you’re annoying.
:(
rUDE
Damnnit. Damnnitttt why did he send that, why did he send any of these stupid messages? He needs sleep. Sleep will help. His brain just isn’t working at full capacity and it’s turning him into an idiot.
I’m going to sleep, he starts to type, but a message from Reki comes in before he can finish.
can i come over
Need I remind you it’s literally 3 am
but i’m
SO
bored
and ur house is closer than mine
Where the hell are you
on the way to ur house
He should say no. He should say no and let Reki fend for himself. Langa clearly needs some rest. He’s about to decline the request when Reki sends him the pleading face emoji.
On the other hand, Reki will probably continue to spam him with messages anyway.
Fine.
Reki shows up five minutes later, the only warning to Langa being a SnapChat notification, which, when he opens it, is a picture of himself. A millisecond later Reki comes tumbling through his second story window.
Langa keeps the windows open because it’s damn hot in Okinawa. That still doesn’t explain how Reki managed to scale the building, though.
“Reki!” He exclaims, voiced hushed. “How did you get up here?”
Reki shrugs. “I climbed.”
Langa sighs and closes his eyes. He is so tired.
“What?” Reki says, seeming to take Langa’s reaction for annoyance. “How was I supposed to get here?”
“The door,” Langa intones.
Reki blinks at him like he had never considered that to be an option.
“Nevermind. I’m going back to sleep.” Langa crosses the room to his bed. “Might I suggest you do the same?”
“But I just got here!” Reki protests.
“Reki, please. It’s almost four.”
Reki pouts and slumps on the floor.
Langa peers down at him, feeling a twinge of guilt. He did say Reki could come over, after all. He strips a blanket off his bed and plucks up the better pillow, tossing them into Reki’s lap.
“Just—try to get to sleep, alright? Wake me up if you need something.”
“Okay,” Reki complies, though he still sounds disappointed. Langa would feel absolutely terrible if he didn’t want to sleep so bad. He’s trying to catch up on all the rest he missed from staying up for ‘S’.
Langa can hear Reki shuffling around on the floor, presumably making his bed up. He finally settles and Langa allows himself to relax.
No sooner have Langa’s eyes slipped closed when Reki speaks in the dark.
“Langa, I’m cold.”
Langa barely restrains himself from letting out a very fed up sigh.
“Here.” He tosses another blanket to the floor. Though he doesn’t understand how anyone could be cold in this weather, even locals.
He closes his eyes again.
“Langa?”
This time a breath of frustration does leave his mouth.
“What?”
“I’m still cold.” Reki pauses. “And the floor is hard.”
Langa is so tired he would do anything to get Reki to be quiet. So he says, in English, “For the love of God,” and then, in Japanese, “Reki, come sleep up here.”
“Huh?”
“I said, come sleep up here with me. In my bed.”
Reki hesitates.
“Come on,” Langa grumbles. “Otherwise, you’ll never shut up.”
A moment later Reki is clambering into Langa’s bed. He drags the blankets with him and lies down beside Langa, facing him, seeming unsure.
Langa closes his eyes, thinking that finally, finally, he can get the rest he craves.
“Um, Langa?”
If Langa didn’t love him so much he might actually throw Reki out of the bed.
“Yes?”
“I’m still cold.”
Langa rolls towards Reki and throws an arm over his waist. His mind is foggy, but he thinks he feels Reki stiffen for a second before he relaxes, sighing gently, and leans into Langa’s touch.
When he wakes up the next morning there’s fifteen minutes to school and Reki is practically on top of him. If Langa looks directly ahead, all he can see is a wild mass of red hair.
He realizes, maybe a bit belatedly, how fucking awkward this all is.
There’s heat on his face as he slips out from under Reki as gracefully as he can. He considers waking him, but wow. Reki looks different when he’s asleep. When he’s awake he’s always restless, moving and talking, maybe drawing. Now the morning sun hits his face, his eyelids closed and his body still, and it would be unsettling if Reki weren’t so pretty.
Langa questions how many times he can think of Reki as pretty before it gets weird and very gay.
Considering how often he’s heard Miya utter the word under his breath when around the two of them, Langa must admit their friendship is pretty gay already, all things considered.
This is later confirmed by one of Reki’s friends, or acquaintances, or something.
“You guys are, like, the ultimate bromance,” he says.
“Yeah, it’s cute,” agrees the girl that sits next to them.
Reki is drawing, seemingly not listening. Langa wonders why Reki’s face is so red. Probably something unrelated.
There’s no ‘S’ again that night. Something about police routes, though Langa doesn’t pay it much attention. He loves ‘S’, don’t get him wrong, but staying up until four in the morning every day really is starting to take its toll.
Besides, he likes skating alone with Reki and they haven't had much time to do it lately. Reki isn’t what Langa would call “in the zone” today, though.
“Man, what happened?” Langa asks, taping up a cut on Reki’s forehead. “Are you doing okay?”
Reki slumps dramatically against him. Langa barely has time to prepare himself to keep them from toppling over.
“Thank God it’s Friday. I’m so tired,” Reki whines. He’s wearing Langa’s shirt, one of the few T-shirts Langa owns. They didn’t exactly have time to head over to Reki’s house that morning. It makes Langa feel kind of giddy when he sees Reki in his clothes, for some reason.
Langa hums. “Well, you did only sleep for like four and half hours,” he says. They haven’t really talked about the whole ‘sharing a bed thing’. Maybe it’s better if they don’t.
Reki pulls away, looking up at Langa’s face. His eyebrows are knitted together.
“Four and a half hours?” Reki says, “That’s so much more than I usually get.”
Langa felt his eyes just about big out of his skull. He turns to look at Reki properly. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“How much sleep do you usually get, then?”
Reki considers this, counting on his fingers. “Two hours or so, I guess.” He glances over at Langa’s incredulous face. “Uh—I mean… three hours?”
Langa puts his head in his hands. In English, he says, “Jesus H. Christ, Reki.”
Reki doesn’t know the words, but he seems to understand the sentiment.
“I’ve been going to ‘S’ for years,” he says, defensive. “It used to make me tired to stay up so late, but now I’m used to it. I can’t hardly sleep at all.”
Langa shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure that’s ridiculously unhealthy. No wonder you’re so short, you stunted your growth.”
“I am not —”
“Shortyyy.”
Reki chases him around the skatepark for that comment, and Langa keeps on teasing him. They’re both on their boards, the sun is setting over the water, and the Langa wants nothing more than to exist like this, here, forever.
Reki goes home early, something about needing to watch his little sisters. Langa offers to help, but Reki waves him away and says he wouldn’t enjoy it.
Langa’s saved from an evening of skateboarding around by himself when Miya texts him and asks to hang out. Something about needing to get away from the reporters at his house.
They get boba tea (well, Langa gets boba tea. Miya gets a protein shake) and skate around the suburbs for a while. Miya’s presence is always a little strange to Langa, but Miya is a pretty strange kid. It’s just that Langa is so used to hanging out with Reki, who wouldn’t be able to stop talking to save his life. Miya’s aloof composure is a whole different story.
Maybe that’s why Langa blurts: “Reki and I slept together last night,” in a bout of silence that was beginning to make him uncomfortable.
Miya actually falls off his board. It might have been funny if Langa weren’t so mortified.
Miya stares at his protein shake, now a solemn puddle on the ground, a little indignantly. He turns to Langa. He doesn’t seem mad. Langa’s not really good at the whole ‘reading people’ thing, though.
“I did not need to know that,” Miya says, and Langa can now clearly see the disgust on his face. Well, at least he’s not angry. “Langa why. You guys—? Ew, no. Ew ew ew.”
Now Langa’s mortified for a whole different reason.
“Wait,” he says. His face is flaming red, he’s sure of it. “Wait—it’s not. Not like that. Oh my God.”
“That’s—That’s actually disgusting,” Miya says.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Langa insists, as frantic as he ever gets. “We didn’t actually do anything!”
“I—” Miya looks at him curiously, but only after breathing a sigh of relief. “Now I’m just confused. You guys didn’t—” he coughs, face coloring. Sometimes Langa forgets the kid is like twelve or something. “You know.”
“We didn’t do that,” Langa confirms. “We—” he snorts. He’s such an idiot. “We slept in the same bed, is what I’m trying to say.”
Miya cocks his head. “Okay?” He pauses for a moment. “Why?”
Langa shrugs. “I guess… I dunno. Reki couldn’t sleep.”
“I don’t really understand why you’re telling me this.”
Langa tries to think of a good justification. He can’t find one.
“I guess I don’t know, either.”
Miya’s looking at him strangely. The kind of an expression one devotes to a very intricate piece of art. Langa doesn’t like it one bit.
Ding.
Ding.
The messages start to spill in just as Langa reaches his driveway.
Ding.
Through the dinner his mom left him.
Ding.
Through watching Cobra Kai.
Ding.
At 10:51, Langa spits his toothpaste into the sink and makes a decision.
I’m coming over, he texts Reki.
Reki replies immediately. He always does.
ok :D
No questions asked.
Should I use your front door? Langa texts.
no way
just come thru the screen door in the back
i’ll leave it open
Reki’s waiting for Langa on the couch when he arrives. He slides the door open silently with practiced ease and ushers Langa through the hallway to his bedroom.
Langa likes Reki’s bedroom. He likes spending time in there much more than in his own. The whole room feels like Reki, looks like Reki, smells like Reki. Just… Reki.
Hm. That was cheesy, wasn’t it?
He doesn’t get to consider it long because Reki sits down in front of him.
“So,” Reki says, “Watcha wanna do?”
“Well, first of all I’m exhausted,” Langa says. “But if you must know, I wanted you to stop texting me.”
“I was DMing you.”
“Same difference.”
“Fine,” Reki concedes. He stands up and goes to sit on the edge of his bed. “Wanna watch skating videos with me?”
They end up on Reki’s bed, sitting up against the wall. Reki holds the phone out in front of them and they watch video after video. Langa likes watching skateboarding videos and he likes watching them with Reki. After a while, though, he feels his eyes start to droop and his brain start to protest. He thinks he maybe understands, or at least sympathizes with, why Reki messages him so much between the hours of eleven and five. He’s not just tired, his brain feels completely unstimulated.
“Langa,” Reki nudges him in the side, pulling Langa out of his half-nap. “Can you take the phone now? My arm is sore.”
Langa obliges, and the act of holding the phone up is enough to keep him mostly conscious. Autoplay does the rest of his work for him. He wonders how many nights Reki has spent awake on this bed, alone, watching video after video play in front of him. It makes Langa’s stomach feel strange. Not empty, really, not exactly. No, it makes his whole torso feel cavernous.
Just as he has this thought he feels something soft hit his shoulder. He turns his head and gets a face-full of red hair. Reki is asleep, snoring softly, his head resting in the space where Langa’s neck meets his shoulder. His lips are parted, his head band askew.
He’s so cute.
Part of Langa feels like he should be panicking. Reki fell asleep on his shoulder and it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him. But Reki is soft and warm, and the other part of Langa just really wants to sleep.
He lets the phone fall to his lap, not bothering to pause the video. His head droops to the side until it rests on top of Reki’s and in an instant Langa is asleep, too.
There’s ‘S’ on Saturday night. Langa almost doesn’t understand why he’s so disappointed, except at this point he thinks maybe he does.
It’s Reki. But isn’t it always?
Reki’s skating around, doing tricks, talking to some of the other regulars. Langa’s just watching him, watching his ridiculous red hair and his bright smile. That’s when Miya sidles up to him, follows Langa’s gaze and oh, isn’t that embarrassing.
Miya watches Reki for a moment, too. “Langa,” he says suddenly, his eyes still trained on Reki, “Are you gay?”
Langa is just slightly caught off guard. Slightly. It’s not like it’s a question he hasn’t been asked before.
“What would you say if I was?” He asks.
Miya side eyes him. “I would tell you I’m pan,” he says. “But you gave me the answer anyway.”
“It’s not really a secret.”
“Even if you were trying to keep it that way, it wouldn’t be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Miya’s head turns from where he’s looking at Langa over to the other side of this part of the mine, where Reki is rolling back and forth on the half pipe.
For a second, Langa doesn’t realize what Miya's getting at. Then Reki’s shirt rides up just a little too far and it sends a weird jolt through Langa that has him figuring it out. He flushes red.
He swallows. “Who else knows?”
Miya puts a comforting hoodie sleeve-covered hand on Langa’s arm. Possibly the only nice thing Miya’s ever actually done to him directly.
“Langa, everyone knows,” he says, his words holding none of the affection his gesture does. He pulls back. “Well, except Reki, but Reki is an idiot.”
“Hey,” Langa says sharply, “don’t say that.”
Miya rolls his eyes and stuff his hands back in his pocket. “You see what I mean?” He huffs. “I’m going to get something to drink.”
Langa goes back to watching Reki skate and wonders how everyone isn’t head over heels for him.
No ‘S’ on Monday. The whole schedule’s been weird and off. Langa doesn’t pay it too much mind. He misses it, sure, the thrill of skating against opponents that might just be able to beat him to the ground, but he gets to spend more time with Reki this way. That’s infinitely better than any race against Shadow or even Adam.
That night Reki shows up at his window uninvited. He looks like absolute crap. He tumbles through without so much as a yelp and just lies in a heap on the floor for several seconds. The noise somehow manages not to wake Langa’s mother.
Langa gets his wits about him after a moment and rises from his bed, rushing over to kneel at Reki’s side.
“Reki, what happened? Are you alright?”
Reki raises his head to look at Langa, studies his face with tired eyes, and then face plants back into the floor. His voice is muffled by the carpet when he next speaks. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Ah.
Langa manages to haul Reki into his bed. Reki insists he can walk but ends up tripping over his own two feet anyway.
“What happened?” Langa asks, worry he tries to suppress seeping out through his voice. “Are you sick?”
Reki shakes his head. Even his hair looks sort of droopy. “Don’t think so. M’tired, Langa. I couldn’t sleep.” His words are running into one another. Langa brushes his hands across Reki’s forehead, but there isn’t any heat. Maybe Reki just really is tired.
“Got so much sleep those nights before,” Reki says. “Now I fuckin’ need it. Damn you, Hasegawa.”
Langa laughs gently. “Guess all those days of running on two hours and an energy drink are finally catching up to you, huh?”
Reki hums. “Guess so.”
There’s silence for a moment as Langa seeks out the confidence to voice the question he’s nervous to ask.
“Why’d you—come here, though?” He manages.
Reki peers up at him from where he’s sprawled across most of the bed. He moves a little closer to Langa, snuggling up so his head is under Langa’s chin and his back is pressed firmly to Langa’s chest. Holy shit.
“Couldn’t sleep without you,” he says drowsily. Then, “Seems like I need you.”
Well, Langa thinks, fuck me. If Reki falling asleep on his shoulder was romantic, this is something else entirely. Langa must have died and gone to heaven.
He very carefully lifts his arm and drapes it over Reki’s side. Reki hums and clasps their hands together and, well.
Langa thinks he might be just a little bit in love.
They sleep together the next night, in Reki’s bed. And then the next, in Langa’s. The night after that there’s ‘S’ again, but on Friday they’re in bed together at eleven o’clock sharp and Reki is cuddled against Langa’s side.
Before his brain can comprehend what he's doing Langa has already started carding his hand through Reki’s hair. It’s soft and fluffy and feels like a cloud.
Reki shifts, peers up at him. He looks like he’s thinking hard.
Langa says, “What is it?”, but Reki just shakes his head.
Reki looks away momentarily, his face slightly flushed. Langa is about to ask if he’s too hot when Reki says, “this isn’t something normal friends do.”
No fucking shit. Langa coughs to hide the fact that he’s probably making a particularly strange face.
“What do you mean?” He says, which is stupid but how the hell is he supposed to respond?
Langa, to be entirely honest, is a little ashamed of himself. The crush he’s been harboring has significantly grown in size, and even though the reason he’s helping Reki is simply because he wants his best friend to be able to sleep, Langa feels as though he’s taking advantage of Reki’s friendship and his trust.
Langa doesn’t know how to tell Reki how he feels, though. His people skills are seriously lacking. Jesus, he feels like such a dork.
Reki is looking anywhere but him. His face is really quite red. Langa brushes his hand across Reki’s forehead and Reki immediately jerks away, but Langa can already tell he’s not sick.
“What’s wrong?” He says.
Reki bites his lip. Goddamnit, he has to stop doing things like that or Langa will actually lose his mind.
“I feel bad,” Reki says, almost too quiet to make out.
Langa’s confusion spikes. “What?”
Reki is silent for a moment longer, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. When he looks up and meets Langa’s eyes again a smile is back on his face, just like usual.
“Nevermind. Let’s go to sleep. I’m tired.”
Langa feels like he should ask. No, he should definitely ask. Shit, how does he ask what’s wrong?
Reki’s practically clinging to him, though, and his breaths are already beginning to even out. Langa sighs in defeat.
It will have to wait.
At ‘S’ on Sunday, Langa skates a beef against Joe. It’s friendly competition more than anything, and the stakes aren’t particularly high. If Langa loses, Joe gets free board tune ups at Dope Sketch for a month.
Manager Oka hadn’t been let in on this one, but that’s a problem for future Langa and Reki.
Langa wins, though he’s pretty sure Joe was going easy on him, and Reki is quick to engulf Langa in a hug. Langa returns it easily, unable to keep the smile off his face at the sight of Reki looking so excited.
Oka decides to stroll up then, Reki and Langa exchanging a glance as he does. Joe, ever the big mouth, let's Oka in on their little bet.
"No sweat, though, I didn't win this one," Joe says, like that will help anything.
“Uh… I-I’ll handle this,” Reki offers, and scampers off with Oka in tow to probably fail at quelling Oka’s temper. Langa’s pretty sure they won’t get fired, at least, because Oka has a soft spot for Reki.
Langa takes his board and goes to get a drink.
He considered asking Miya for advice on what to do with his ever growing feelings towards Reki. However, every time at ‘S’ that night when Langa was interacting with Reki, he looked over to find Miya staring at them both with a mixed expression of revoltion and exasperation.
Langa decides putting time and energy into the stressful endeavor of asking Miya anything isn’t worth it if he already knows what Miya’s going to say.
He’s just in the beginning stages of cursing himself and his own emotional constipated-ness when Joe appears seemingly out of nowhere. He’s leaned back against the wall, just like Langa is, a toothpick between his sharp teeth.
“So,” he says, too casually for Langa’s liking, “when are you gonna tell him?”
Miya told Langa he was obvious. He didn’t realize he was so obvious that even Joe, a bit of an airhead in his own right, or at least too focused on women to observe much of anything else, would notice how much Langa wishes he and Reki weren’t just friends.
Langa clears his throat way too loud. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
Joe elbows him in the side with much more force than necessary. “C’mon. You two make me sick. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you yet.”
“Told me what?”
Joe rolls his eyes and smirks in that condescending way of his. “Nothin’.” Something seems to catch his eye. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”
A few moments later he and Cherry are engaged in what seems to be a spitting contest. Geez.
When it comes to sexual tension, Joe is certainly one to talk.
There’s many nights of ‘S’ after that. Adam even shows up once, to Reki’s chagrin.
The next time there’s a night of nothing, Langa doesn’t get a text from Reki asking him to come over. Reki doesn’t fall through his window or even knock on his door.
Langa tries to reason with himself as he lays awake in the dark. Reki will probably come soon. Or maybe he’s just busy tonight. Or maybe…
Maybe he doesn’t need Langa’s help anymore.
It’s a good thing, really, if he doesn’t. Reki’s not so dependent anymore. He can sleep by himself, which, really, he should have been able to do all along.
Langa knows he’s selfish, but the thought makes him feel hollow. The bed is too big and, for once, too cold. He hugs his pillow, the one that Reki liked best, close to his chest. It smells like Reki’s hair. Like oranges and lemons.
Reki’s citrus shampoo doesn’t help in the end. That night, Langa doesn’t sleep at all.
The next day, Langa doesn’t seem to be the only one who’s exhausted. Reki looks like shit and his demeanor is even worse. He snaps at the girl who sits in front of him for talking too loud and yawns between every sentence. He falls asleep on his desk three times, and by the third time their teacher has shifted from irritated to concerned. At lunch Reki nearly conks out again, but the minute his head hits Langa’s shoulder he shoots up, muttering, “I’m awake, I’m awake.”
On the way home, when Reki crashes his skateboard in a tree, Langa decides it’s time to speak up.
“Reki,” he says, “What’s going on? You’ve been acting off today.”
“I’m fine,” Reki says, followed by a yawn. It’s the most unconvincing lie Langa’s ever been witness to.
Still, he would normally have let it go. Langa doesn’t appreciate when people pry about his life, and so he makes it a point to not pry with anyone else. However, Langa would be a pretty bad best friend if he didn’t check up on Reki, who’s clearly got something going on with him.
He sets his hand on Reki’s shoulder. Reki pauses in dusting off his clothes to meet Langa’s eyes.
“Don’t lie,” Langa says, embarrassed with himself with the tone of his voice. It sounds like he’s begging. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”
Reki’s face gets sort of red again—
Wait.
Is he blushing? Is that what’s happening? Holy shit biscuit, has Reki been blushing this whole time?
Don’t get your hopes up, Hasegawa.
Right. He’s truly exhausted.
Reki turns to the side almost bashfully. “I’m tired,” he admits apologetically.
“Why?” Langa swallows down the lump in his throat and adds: “You could have come over if you couldn’t sleep.”
Reki shakes his head adamantly, then tilts slightly to the side. Langa pushes gently on his shoulder to right him.
“I can’t sleep over anymore,” Reki says. He sounds forlorn about it.
Langa feels strange. “Why not?”
“Because,” Reki says. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Langa asks again.
Reki sighs harshly, scrubbing at his headband in frustration. “Because—because. Because it’s not right to you.”
“Well I’ll let you know right now that I’m perfectly fine with it—”
“No —you wouldn’t—I just—I can’t. Please, Langa.”
His eyes are pleading.
Langa sighs. Backs down. He always backs down from these things. He wishes emotions were as simple as skateboarding.
“Fine,” he concedes. He feels like crap.
“I’m sorry,” Reki says. His head is bowed. Langa can’t stand to see him looking so down.
He manages not to sigh and says, “It’s fine, Reki. Really. Just—go home and get some rest, yeah?”
Reki nods and they part ways. Langa’s tempted to walk Reki home, seeing as he can barely stand up straight, but if Langa can read any social cues at all, these ones are saying Reki wants to be left alone.
At dinner, his mother is concerned. She’s not very good at keeping a neutral face, so Langa can always tell when she’s having some sort of dramatic internal monologue.
“What?” He says, because she’ll never speak up otherwise.
His mother looks like she’s been caught red handed. Honestly.
“W-well,” she says, “You—you look exhausted, honey.”
Langa sighs and her face softens.
“I am,” he says. He’s also really not looking forward to sleeping in an empty bed tonight. “It’s just… rough at school, I guess.”
His mother purses her lips. There’s something knowing about her gaze. “Oh, sweetie. Just let me know if you need anything.”
Langa nods, letting his head fall to the table.
He’s fairly convinced he’ll never get a full night of sleep again.
It rains that night. Langa’s windows are closed, so he can hear the pat pat pat of drops against the panes. It’s a comforting sound. Almost comforting enough to lull him to sleep.
His mind is drifting along that train of thought when the sounds against his window gets considerably more aggressive. At first Langa writes it off as being a tree branch or something, but the tapping keeps coming, harder this time. It sounds almost like knocking.
Knocking.
Oh.
Oh.
He springs up from bed like Dracula out of his coffin. It’s hard to make much out through his windows but sure enough, there’s Reki. He’s dripping with rainwater and knocking on Langa’s window incessantly.
Langa dashes over to the window, unlocking it, and Reki comes tumbling down, soaking wet, right into his arms.
“Ah, Jesus,” Langa says in English, stumbling backwards.
“Langa,” Reki says, pulling himself upright. “I have to tell you something.”
Langa cups his hand to Reki’s face, part of him thinking he must be dreaming. But that can’t be right because he couldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place and also, the cold water that’s soaked through his pajamas is definitely real.
“It can wait—”
“No—”
“Reki, you’re all wet. You’ll watch a cold.”
Reki backs down and allows Langa to lead him to the center of the room, where Langa shoves a towel into his hands and turns around as they both strip out of their clothes.
Once Langa’s dressed, he says, “Can I turn around?”
“Yeah.”
Reki’s standing there squeezing out his sopping headband, wearing only his boxers and the towel thrown over his shoulders. Langa flushes. That won’t do.
“Here.” He tosses Reki a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Reki dutifully pulls them on. He lays his headband on the floor to dry.
The room feels stuffy, awkward. Langa stares at the ground, wanting nothing more than to go back to just a week or so ago, when they could lie down in the same bed and feel like there was nothing wrong in the entire world.
“I’m sorry,” Reki says, finally, after what feels like a year of silence.
Langa looks up at him. “What for?”
Reki shrugs. “For being so weird these past few days. I just… had something. To work through.”
“Oh.” A beat. Reki’s fidgety. Langa starts to speak, probably about to spout some pointless words about getting into bed or whatever, but Reki beats him to it.
“I’ve had such a bad conscience about…. everything,” he says, talking fast. He’s running his hands along the hem of Langa’s shirt, too big for him. “I thought it would be better if I stopped… you know. The sleepovers, I guess. But I couldn’t, because I can’t fall asleep without you and now I’m tired all the time but I couldn’t in my right mind keep on like I was and I—”
He takes a deep, shaky breath. Langa can’t tell in the dark, but he really hopes Reki’s not crying. The last thing he wants on this earth is for Reki to cry.
“What I’m trying to say,” continues Reki, his voice getting very, very quiet, “Is that… I… kinda… like you.”
Langa blinks at him.
“Romantically,” Reki adds, as if that wasn’t clear.
Langa should say something. Shit. What is he supposed to say?
“You don’t have to say anything,” Reki says, frantic, like he’s reading Langa’s mind. “I just thought you should know. Because it’s just that I thought I should tell you, considering everything, and—”
Reki keeps going even as Langa closes the distance between them in two quick strides. He thinks Reki might not be seeing anything at all because he’s still running off at the mouth.
“I’m sort of failing at this right now but I’ve never really done this before and I… I…”
Langa taps Reki on the shoulder and he finally looks up.
“You look like crap,” Langa says.
What the actual fuck is wrong with him.
Reki’s looks equal parts stricken and confused by Langa’s comment. He makes some sort of strange sound in the back of his throat.
“You need sleep,” Langa intones, barely managing to get the words out through his brains onslaught of why would you say that you goddamn idiot he just confessed to you and you told him he looked like crap, what the fuck—
“I… what?” Reki says.
“You need sleep,” Langa repeats, because what he meant to say was that Reki looks adorable, amazing, like the sun, always, but right now he also looks like he could seriously use a nap. A twelve hour nap.
“Just…” Langa says. He face palms. Why is he so goddamn bad at this. “Get in bed.”
Reki obeys, albeit a bit reluctantly. They lie down together like they did that first night, facing each other, side by side. This time Reki’s face is cast with the shadows of the raindrops that drip down Langa’s window as the streetlamp outside shines on. He looks too pretty.
Staring at Reki’s face, Langa makes a decision. Fuck being emotionally constipated, that was so five minutes ago. He’s going to take this dive, because Reki took one. Langa’s doing it for Reki’s sake more than his own.
Just that makes it one hundred times easier.
“Reki,” he says.
Reki looks like a deer caught in headlights. His face is bright red and yes, Langa realizes, that was definitely a blush all along.
Langa clears his throat. “Can… can I kiss you?”
Reki’s eyes are wide as saucers. “Yes,” he says. “I mean—! Um. If you want to?”
Langa can’t help but smile. The best word to describe Reki would probably be ‘adorkable’.
That’s not very romantic, is it? Who cares.
Langa thinks he leans in first, or maybe they both do, but either way he feels the soft brush of Reki’s lips against his own and oh.
Langa never understood, in movies and books and what not, what could be so incredibly spectacular about kissing. Of course, he’d never been kissed before.
Reki moans quietly against his mouth and it’s the sweetest noise Langa’s ever heard. Langa gets one arm around Reki’s side and the other one comes down to rest against his stomach. Reki’s got his hands fisted in Langa’s hair. Their bodies are flush together, knee to chest, and Langa can say with confidence that he’s never felt anything like this before.
Reki is wonderful.
Reki is breathtaking.
Reki is intangible.
Langa pulls away from Reki’s lips for air, his eyes still closed, and when he dives back in for a second round he misses, catching the side of Reki’s chin. Reki giggles, so Langa rolls with it. He leaves small pecks on Reki’s nose, his cheeks, his forehead. When he leans back Reki is grinning from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room.
“I love you,” Langa says.
Reki’s breath catches.
Langa’s aware of how fast this is all going, but he thought Reki should know. He probably loved Reki since the day he met him. Which is cheesy as hell, but true.
He doesn’t want Reki to feel pressured to say it back, so he doesn’t let him. He leans in again, his lips slotting against Reki’s as if they were meant to be there, and Reki kisses back with fervor.
Eventually, Reki drops his head, breathing fast and looking just the same as Langa feels. Elated.
He looks up at Langa with big, pretty amber eyes. “I love you, too,” he says.
Langa kisses his hair, his soft, spiky, ridiculous red hair.
“Go to sleep,” Langa says. Then something occurs to him. "Did you walk all the way here in the rain just to tell me you like me?"
Reki pulls his face away from where it's tucked into Langa's neck and scowls. "Shaddup."
Langa laughs. "No, I think it's sweet."
Reki blushes hard. "You're such a sap."
"You like it, though."
"Hmph," Reki says. He's struggling to stay angry. Langa can tell by the way the corners of his mouth twitch up.
Langa kisses him one last time, just an innocent peck on the lips, before he settles down and pulls Reki closer to him.
Reki hums and nuzzels his cheek against Langa's shoulder.
This. This is heaven.
When Miya catches them behind a boulder, making out at ‘S’, he gags like he’s just seen slugs fucking. Reki tries to give him the finger but Langa laces their hands together before Miya can notice.
“You two disgust me,” Miya says. He turns around and walks away. Langa’s sure he can see the hint of a smile on Miya’s lips before he disappears out of sight.
Later, Joe claps Langa on the back and congratulates him on his success. The word must have gotten around, then. Langa can’t promise he’ll be even half the wingman Joe was, and Joe was hardly a wingman at all. The guy will just have to figure out how to pop that cherry on his own.
Langa’s eating the omelet he made with more interest than usual when he notices his mother is having another internal monologue. They must go through more dinners where she is than where she isn’t.
“What?” Langa says.
His mother stiffens, caught again.
“You’re smiling,” she says. “You’ve been beaming from ear to ear ever since you got home.”
“I have?” Langa didn’t realize. He'd been on a date with Reki that afternoon.
His mother nods. She's smiling a little mischievously. “Young man,” she says, “Do you have something to tell me?”
Ding.
Langa picks up his phone.
Kyan Reki sent a post by @romanticquotess
“Well.” He puts down his phone and meets his mother’s gaze. “Actually, I think I do.”