Chapter Text
Everything surrounding Reki was merely a whisper.
He felt heavy bass in his stomach and the floor was sticky under his feet and people were yelling at nothing, but every trace of the present moment is muffled within the stars he gazes in.
He is unsure how long they stay like this, with foreheads hovering in the gap they are too afraid to close.
Langa doesn’t feel like a stranger. Reki lets his thumb dig into his hip a little and they begin to sway. Everything is so new, yet exactly as it is supposed to be. He soars. He shivers.
“Langa?” Reki mouthed underneath the deafening guitars.
Langa’s stare did not weaken.
"Kiss me.”
But his hold on Reki’s waist did.
Langa’s pupils hardened.
“Nevermind. Nevermind, sorry.” Reki scoffed shakily.
The gap between their foreheads grew.
“You okay?”
The stars were washed away with a blank stare. Reki became transparent.
His throat tightened.
“Langa?”
Langa’s shoulders became sharp and vanished into the crowd.
A hand reached for the back that was gradually becoming invisible. It stayed outstretched even when he caught the glimpse of a head of aqua scurrying towards the front door.
Reki couldn’t move. Every note of whatever song was playing suddenly stung his brain’s every crevice and the room reeked of flat beer and oversized egos. Alcohol was a cloak around his body, thick and nauseating, bringing dizziness and sweat and uninvited tears.
The crowd continued to dance around him, and suddenly Reki was a child who wanted to be scooped up and taken home. He pushed through sluggish bodies with vision beginning to blur. Arms with bodies unseen offered him shots and cigarettes. Bodies who were hungry offered him a kiss, or a nod to the unoccupied bathroom and fuck, Reki hated parties. He hated them and their stupid five minute encounters that not even poets could replicate.
He stumbled into a kitchen counter, his tummy heavy and swirling. In a misty blur, he spotted a boy standing in a circle, significantly shorter than the rest. A girl was sticking stickers on his cheeks, whilst another pinned his dark fringe back with glittery hairclips.
All Reki could do was stare in his direction until their eyes met. A blur of glitter was by his side in an instant.
“Jesus christ Reki,” Miya’s voice drifted in and out of the music, “what happened?! Are you okay?”
Reki swallowed to keep the sudden lump in his throat at bay, unsuccessfully. His lip shook, and he couldn’t bite it hard enough to stop.
All he could do was search for Miya’s hand and squeeze it twice.
“Okay,” Miya softened, “okay.” He gently tugged Reki towards the front door.
September embraced the two in its shivering breeze. The world looked awfully empty under fluorescent street lamps and drunken eyes, yet there lived a certain magic in it; the street they slowly walked down was quiet, and the quiet was a stage for honesty. The silence begged to be filled, and it was always a race between laughter and tears to fill it.
Reki spotted a lone wall and slid down into a timid ball. He gazed into the mirror of midnight, the reflection a silhouette of a broken street lamp and a gathering of raindrops that was desperate to call itself a puddle. He cackled coldly when the street lamp flickered one last time, before going bust. And it was hysterical because it wasn’t.
“This isn’t just because you’re drunk, is it?” Miya asked whilst sliding down beside Reki.
Reki was laughing, because he had no idea. Was he drunk, or just growing up?
He started crying. Because he had no idea.
“Oh, Reki. Get in here.”
Reki’s head fell into Miya’s shoulder and the dribble of tears became a pouring. Pouring soon became sobbing. Sobbing soon became whimpering and sniffing and then sobbing from guilt as he had completely ruined Miya’s shirt and he knew how much Miya liked that shirt and he had completely ruined Miya’s first party and he must look so stupid crying over what is, in reality, nothing, and when he was younger everyone called him pathetic and it’s terrifying that they might be right.
Reki couldn’t control how much spilled out. Miya only hugged him tighter.
“You aren’t pathetic, Reki. Why do you feel that way?”
Reki froze. He didn’t mean to say it all out loud.
He was quiet for a while.
“Langa ran away. Without a word. I dunno what happened, but… I dunno what I did. But I did something wrong.”
“Langa?”
“Blue-haired boy,” Reki let out a weak chuckle, which slipped into a tremble.
“I knew him for five minutes, which is stupid, but people don’t run away from something like that, and not that fast, and - and it’s - it -”
“ -Slow down, Reki. It’s okay.” Miya hushed.
He exhaled.
“People… run away from me. A lot.”
Reki couldn’t grasp the words. Another couple poor attempts followed, that only resulted in tight drunken sighs and weakly kicking stones. Miya caught a stone with his foot that Reki had kicked in his direction.
“Why is it your fault that he ran away?”
“It’s easier to think it’s my fault.”
Miya leant down to glimpse at Reki.
“Easier for who?”
Reki’s head lifted a little. Miya smiled as he watched the cogs begin to turn.
“Because it clearly hasn’t been easier for you, silly,” he chuckled lightly.
“I’m too drunk for this right now,” Reki mumbled clumsily, the side of his head thumping against the wall.
“Sorry. Drunk psychoanalysis is a bad idea, actually.”
“Have I really only known you for a day?” Reki slurred. His foot flung another stone into the road.
“I hope not. Maybe we were stones in our past lives and we were best friends on a beach somewhere.” Miya hummed.
“I hope someone picked us up and threw us through their evil dad’s kitchen window.”
Miya snorted. Reki halted his wheeze in fear of retching.
“Tonight has been so much fun. My first party was a success!” Miya hopped up to stand.
“Success,” Reki scoffed, “this is success?”
“I got to spend so much time with my best friend. Is that not success?” Miya said. He pulled Reki up by his wrist and held his wobbly body steady.
Once the two were slowly stumbling home, Reki glued his gaze to the concrete and began mumbling to the stones.
“Success. Huh. I scared two boys away. Two! Shower boy, Langa boy… that’s a record. Shower boy… Langa boy…”
“What are you rambling about?” Miya asked.
Reki responded by hurling a stream of cherry vodka into the nearest bush.
-
This was Reki’s first hangover.
Right now, he couldn’t see himself surviving to see a second one.
It was odd - when Reki first woke up, he was amazed at how settled his stomach and clear his head felt.
Until a blue-haired boy creeped into his memory.
And his stomach began churning. His head was fuzzy with so many questions. Why didn’t he run after Langa? Or stay at the party and ask every soul if they knew him - somebody had to, right? Or did he come alone? Why was he so familiar? Did it mean anything at all? When the drunkenness wears off, will Langa too?
He felt stuck in a kaleidoscope, where the walls were changing texture and shape with every blink. He somehow made it to college, which was a day full of introductory theory lectures and no dance classes, which made Reki thank gods he didn’t believe in. If he did a single pirouette, his breakfast would end up on the floor. With his sprained ankle beside it. Although, like every tunnel Reki found himself in, there were shimmers of light within it. Which usually took the form of sitting around Joe and Cherry’s kitchen table, mumbling worries into Joe’s shoulder.
“It’s hilarious, Reks.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Embarrassment is just humour that hasn’t aged yet.”
“I feel awful. You seriously don’t think I’m awful?”
“You badly flirted with someone then threw up a little on your friend’s shoe. You didn’t chase them down the street with a gun.”
“True.”
“Mhm.”
“What I did was worse.”
“Reki Kyan and Kojiro Nanjo. If I see those mouths moving again, and it's not to eat your ramen, so help me.”
Joe’s eyes darted to his bowl, “Oh, the government name. He’s serious.”
Joe and Cherry’s apartment was a quaint little nook on the top floor, with slanted roofs and skylight windows. It was more like a glorified attic rather than an apartment, but Cherry still worked his magic - every painting and poster on the wall was exactly the right size, in exactly the right place, with exactly the right-sized lamps and bookshelves around them. The couch cushions were loved with two strong imprints of shoulders, alongside a fresh, slightly smaller one.
Joe and Reki put their heads down, slurping noodles. Joe slurped obnoxiously loud and gained light kicks under the table.
“Playing footsie in front of Reki? I thought you were classy, sweetheart.”
“I am classy, hence why I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.” Cherry sighed, “now shush. I don’t want to hear another peep from you.”
“You’re hilarious when you lie. You love my voice.” Joe’s voice was low.
“I said not a peep.”
Reki looked up from his bowl, expecting Cherry’s glare to match his tone, but his gaze was soft. Scarily soft. Reki had never seen Cherry look at anyone like that. Like a shooting star, it vanished before he could question it. He pushed his ramen bowl away and his head fell into folded arms with a groan.
“I put double ginger in the broth for you. Helps the nausea,” Cherry passed him some water. Reki slowly stood up, clutching at his belly.
“Do you mind if I curl up on your sofa and try not to wither away?”
“Be our guest,” Joe already got up to unfold a blanket. Cherry put his water on the coffee table and went around the room switching the fairy lights and cozy lamps on.
Joe even grabbed extra cushions so Reki could elevate his hurt ankle. Reki watched Joe and Cherry work their magic - a moment so warm, yet so ordinary, and Reki couldn’t quite believe this warmth was his ordinary. Joe and Cherry sat on the windowsill beside the couch, and the open window let in the faint song of quiet traffic. It was all the medicine he needed.
“So, this boy… Langa, was it?” Cherry asked.
Reki nodded.
Cherry looked at Joe. “Isn’t that Shadow’s boy?”
Reki sprung up to the windowsill with such speed that Joe had to stop himself falling out of the window. Cherry feared for Reki’s ankle’s welfare.
“I need everything you know.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. My everything is barely anything.”
“And it’s better than the nothing I have now. Who’s Shadow?” Reki pushed.
“A friend of ours. He has a part-time job at the fine arts school, helping students with projects and stuff, and I swear he was last helping a kid called Langa. Said he was pretty good, right?” Cherry turned to Joe.
Joe nodded. “Really good. If he’s the kid with the blue hair, I swear I’ve seen him while going to pick up Shadow. He was painting mountains or something.”
“Did you talk to him? Did he talk to you?”
“I pointed at his art and said ‘work.’ He said ‘thank you.’”
“Riveting,” Cherry scoffed.
Reki latched onto every word, every detail sinking into him like a sponge. Cherry watched him, eyes wide and excited, with the glimmer of a root shining through - a root that was desperate to bloom into something beautiful, something the soil will be so proud to grow, something Reki will call love.
Cherry remembers first hearing his roots scream for it. He hopes to god, if it is Langa it screams for, Langa listens.
Cherry looks at Joe. He had to teach his roots to be quiet a long time ago.
“You have to tell Shadow about me. He has to tell Langa about me. Langa has to know I’m looking for him…” Reki’s words slowed. He watched the traffic outside for a moment. “Actually, I don’t know.”
“What’s up?” Cherry asked, scooting closer to Reki.
“I’m delusional. He ran away from me. I can’t go out searching for him, that’s dumb. And creepy.”
Cherry watched as Reki’s shoulders turned timid.
Reki was used to this - stopping before he even started. When he merely thought about taking a first step, doubt had a particular liking of painting that step as a thousand mile hike. It always felt like everything was out of reach, and there was nothing he could do to bring himself closer.
It frustrated him, deeply. With a heart as eager and hungry as his own and a brain so terrified of it, it was a constant battle deciding who to listen to. Sometimes, to his own heart, Reki was a stranger.
“Have you ever met anyone like Langa before?” Cherry asked.
Reki shook his head. “Never.”
“Do you think you ever will again?”
“Doubt they exist.”
Cherry smiled. “There’s your answer.”
Reki remembered staring into Langa’s eyes. The stars that were so beautiful they terrified him. His soft palm still echoed on his hip. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was the ocean.
“Even if he was just drunk flirting and doesn’t remember now,” Joe winced as a sharp elbow hit his side, “a shot in the dark is always worth more than regret.”
He felt his heart stop lightly nudging him. It began shaking him silly.
“So you’ll talk to Shadow…”
“I will. Maybe even Langa too, if I spot him.” Joe assured him.
He could have burst.
“That’s if I recognise him - Shadow helps a lot of kids. But I’m sure if I saw him, or heard his voice, I’d know…”
Heard his voice.
Reki lingered on that last part for a minute. He was unsure why it stuck, but it did. Those three words became a mantra.
Heard his voice. Heard his voice.
He knew there was a reason for it to stick. There was something he needed to know. Something he needed to remember.
Heard his voice.
His voice.
A voice so delicate. So kind. A soft hum of a lullaby…
Oh.
Oh.
Reki slipped off the windowsill. He tried to hide how his ankle stung as he walked towards his shoes. Joe and Cherry’s voices became fuzzy as an idea sat at the steering wheel of his brain.
“You know, it’s polite to announce when you’re leaving the nest,” Joe called.
“Sorry,” Reki hopped around, hastily shoving on a shoe, “I love you both. The ramen was perfect. I gotta go.”
“Reks?” Cherry’s tone was dipped in a soft concern. Reki’s smile made sure he knew everything was fine. Cherry’s shoulders dropped.
“I just really need to shower.”
Joe didn’t get a chance to blink before their front door closed.
“Oh. He didn’t smell that bad.”
“We gave him good advice, don’t you think?” Cherry poked Joe’s leg with his foot.
“Yeah. You have a gift of getting in that kid’s head. Who knew you, of all people, could give good advice on love?”
Cherry’s eyes thinned. “Since… always?”
Joe shrugged. There was a hint of a smirk which made something in Cherry’s chest tighten.
“Don’t believe ya.”
All Cherry could do was laugh.
“Course you don’t.”
-
There was no way.
Reki repeated those four words the entire way home. When a hint of a thought or possibility appeared in his mind, those four words shut them down. He could not even begin to try and comprehend what they were trying to tell him. Because there truly was no way.
Still, he found himself storming into the bathroom. He propped himself up against the cold tiles before the bathroom door could fully close. Pressing his ear against them hard, he heard nothing. Reki was fully clothed. He wasn’t here to shower. Instead, he hoped to swim in an ocean. Specifically, the ocean he nearly drowned in last night. Twice.
He still told himself there was no way it was the same ocean. He knew he was not the brightest bulb, but he wasn’t that stupid. Surely he’d recognise Langa’s voice immediately upon hearing it in person? He should’ve been able to connect the dots - they weren’t miles apart. If so, wouldn’t Langa have picked up on it too? Reki sighed. He supposed blaring showers could hide a lot.
Even so, he wanted to abandon logic. If this were to happen, he had to. Logic would not write this story so serendipitous, where the boy he drunkenly fell into so happened to be his neighbour, his neighbour who he sang duets with through shower walls.
Logic has never written a good love story. Delusion has written many.
So, the waiting game began. What he was waiting on, he had no idea. His back was hurting, his legs cold, the only source of heat was the warm vibration made by his own hum, yet Reki stayed put. He hummed random melodies, eventually landing on a song he hadn’t sung in a while - All I’ve Ever Known, from a show named Hadestown. It had always been one of Reki’s favourites; he saw it as an invitation for his heart to be the most pathetic yearner it possibly could be. Sitting on a cold, bathroom floor, waiting on nothing and no-one. He knew this should be miserable. It should be. But that nothing or no-one could be Langa. So it wasn’t.
His hums glazed over that song for a while. A long while. Long enough that his ass was in REM sleep. His hums were weary, but they slowly pushed into mumbled lyrics. Reki sighed. His head fell back on the tiles.
“You gonna keep me waiting all night?” Reki muttered. The silence didn’t budge.
“Must be way past ten pm. Maybe you’re one of those losers who goes to bed at seven. And has a glass of warm milk every night,” he let his faint hangover talk its nonsense, “Don’t forget the gown and hat, or the candlestick that is definitely on your bedside table…”
“it’s a moon lamp, actually.”
Reki shot up.
He froze. His mind was completely still, and his thoughts so tired, it was as if he was buffering.
But his belly softened, when he didn’t know it was tense. His heartbeat quickened, yet he had never felt so calm. He burst into laughter. Rich, wheezy laughter. Reki tried to muffle it with his palms, until the tiles behind him let out muffled giggles too.
“Fucking loser,” Reki said in relief.
He heard a gasp, “and you’ve been singing to yourself for over an hour, so what does that make you?”
Reki stared ahead for a moment, his heart spinning itself dizzy. He clutched at his hoodie.
He had been here with Reki. This entire time.
“How long have you…?” Was all he could say.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
This was all he wanted an hour ago, and now he had no idea what to do.
“You could have applauded, at least.”
“It would be rude to interrupt.” Even through a tiled wall, every word was gentle. Like how during a thunderstorm, raindrops still manage to make their landings in puddles soft.
“But lurking is polite,” he tried to hide the smile in his voice, “Still. It’s nice. That you’re here.”
There was a faint hum, before the boy asked “And why are you here?”
Reki was tempted to bombard him with every question he had, but moving fast and bold ended in disaster last time. He was here, whoever ‘he’ may be. And they were talking. And it was nice.
“You said you hoped to hear me sing again yesterday.”
“I did.”
“And you’re not a bad duet partner.”
“That’s generous.”
Countless templates of sentences sat on Reki’s tongue. He bit the side of his cheek.
“And…I just wanted to say hi.”
Reki screamed silently. His forehead slammed into his palms.
There was laughter. It was the kind of laughter that was calling him stupid, and Reki did not blame it at all.
“Hi.”
The voice was still laced with a smile. A smile that was unseen, but contagious. He melted into the sound, not realising how long he was silent for.
“Sorry, would you rather a salutations good sir, splendid evening isn’t it?”
This stranger could not be beautifully gentle, soft-spoken, adorably endearing and funny. It pissed Reki off.
“Who knew you were funny?” He scoffed.
“Who knew you had high standards for saying hello? Do you want me to kneel down and thank god for making your acquaintance?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Or say hello in sixteen different languages?”
“Go on, then.”
A pause.
“I don’t know sixteen other languages.”
“...At least you can say hi,” Reki said.
“At least. Well, wish granted then.”
“Well,” Reki drew out, “in all the fairytales, the genie gives three wishes.”
“Oh, my bad. Obviously. What else, your highness?”
Reki hummed for a moment.
“I want to sing with you again.”
The smiles were silent and only their hearts could hear.
“Okay. Can I alter this one slightly, though?”
“Can genies do that?”
“They can now. Can you keep singing the song you were singing earlier?”
Reki was stunned into a rigid silence.
“You know the words? I can be Eurydice if you -”
“-I don’t know the song. I want to hear you sing.”
A wave of shyness stole Reki. “Oh. I thought a duet would be more fun for you,” his voice was fainter.
“Just let me hear you sing,” the stranger was firmer, more persuading, “I just… really like listening. To you.”
Something in Reki softened. And whatever softens is not to be argued with.
He took a breath. When he exhaled, he felt an urge to laugh. If himself 48 hours ago knew his current situation…
“You do know this kinda proves you are the official loser here,” Reki grinned.
He could feel the strangers grin back, “I’ll take that.”
So, Reki sang. He sang every lyric of all I’ve ever known like it was an outstretched hand, praying for the stranger to see that and accept it. He sang certain lines slower and hoped the stranger was hearing him- not just listening. He forced his tone to be warm and hushed, as though he were singing to a child who had just woken up from a nightmare.
It felt sweet. Reki shut his eyes while swimming through the song and imagined a hand on top of his. His shoulder held a grounding weight and his nose was tickled with the smell of coconut shampoo, and Reki could bury his melodies into his hair, kissing in between every verse. With every word Reki sang, he felt breaths get longer and slower.
Was it so wrong that he could not imagine this stranger being anyone else but Langa?
When the song reached its end, Reki heard the soft cheers and applause.
“Do you know how talented you are? Truly?” His voice was timid, yet sternly sincere.
“That’s sweet. Was worried I’d put you to sleep or something.”
“You nearly did. Not in a boring way, like in a good way. A calming way. Yeah. Calming. You know?”
Reki couldn’t think about Langa possibly imagining the same as he did.
“Thanks, genie.”
“God, you’re right,” The stranger giggled, and there was something sweetly melodic about it, “I am a loser.”
“That makes one of us.”
He knew a pair of eyes were rolling.
“No third wish for you, then.”
“Hilarious, given I didn’t really get my second one,” Reki huffed.
“...Well. There’s better things to wish for, no?”
Reki sat up. He knew he was exhausted and stubbornly delusional… but there was something in the boy’s tone that was suspiciously inviting.
“Is there?”
“There is.”
He was right. Yet Reki knew, he knew he shouldn’t say what sat on his tongue. He knew he couldn’t admit what, potentially, both of them knew.
Potentially was a bridge that could lead to definitely, and hope was a devil on his shoulder. A persistent one.
He had to try.
“I wish you stayed with me last night.”
Silence fell. It wasn’t comfortable this time. Reki shuffled along the tiles, suddenly realising how uncomfortable they were again. His foot frantically tapped against the drain.
“I’m sorry?” The boy giggled. Reki heard every one shake, keeping trembles at bay.
“I think you know what I mean. Don’t you?”
Reki knew that, because he was biting holes in his cheek to keep his own trembles at bay.
“Langa?”
No reply.
“It’s me. It’s Reki.”
“Our paths haven’t crossed yet, Reki.”
In an instant, before Reki could scoop potential back into his arms, he was back at the party again. Left transparent, without a chance to grab his shoulder and plead stay. Please.
Except this time, shoulders did not vanish into a crowd, uncertain. He heard a door on the other side of the wall shut. For the first time today, Reki felt certain. It didn’t feel like a safe sigh in relief.
Langa had shown him the certainty he had always known. A door slammed in his face.