Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Is this seriously all you’re going to be doing today?” Miya whined, throwing yet another crumpled up ball of notebook paper at Langa’s head. 

“Mhm,” Langa didn’t even turn to look at the other boy, his forehead plastered to the warm window he leaned against. 

“This is pathetic,” Miya grunted, for what seemed like the millionth time, “like, truly.” 

“Mhm,” Langa agreed, still not paying his younger cousin any mind. 

Miya, despite his constant whining and complaints, was pretty good company to keep. He was just about the only company Langa kept nowadays. With Nanako working evenings at the hospital, and Natsumi away for college in Italy, his pickings were rather slim. 

He didn’t mind the 5 year age difference much, Miya’s dramatic ramblings of whatever high school drama was currently plaguing him allowed Langa to experience the things he never got to during his own youth. Not that he felt he was missing out. kids could be rather mean. 

And Miya was a skater, which counted for something. Langa’s intrigue for the sport wasn’t a secret; he practically had to pry details out of Miya after his competitions. Miya never understood and always questioned why Langa was so interested in skating if he was so adamant against getting on a board. 

Langa was not ready to get into that. 

“I’m going to leave,” Miya huffed, crossing his arms but making no effort to get off the couch. 

Langa hummed, not even bothering to answer. This was routine for them, Miya made a show about being bored before he finally settled into the quietness of the Hasegawa household, and then they’d talk. For hours, sometimes. 

He hadn’t known Miya for long. They were cousins, yes, but Langa had spent his childhood in Canada. He could barely remember the few times his family had made the trip back to Japan. And Miya was technically married into the family only a decade prior to Langa’s return to Okinawa. Explaining their familial connection was complicated, so they settled on cousins.” 

And though they hadn’t known each other for long, Langa could see right through the walls Miya had spent years constructing. He reminded him of himself when he was young, all bursting with tenacity and wanting to prove himself. Sometimes it made him yearn for that part of himself back. 

He was thankful he could at least be there to help Miya not fall down the same path he had. Of course, there really wasn’t a sure-fire way to make sure your dad didn’t go off and die, he supposed. 

“Do you do this every day?” Miya finally asked, after the knots he had himself constantly tied up in had loosened. 

Langa smiled, happy that Miya had fallen into tranquility. He was more on edge than usual these days. Langa assumed it had something to do with teen angst and hormones. 

“No,” he answered simply, and he wasn’t lying. 

When it had started, it had been completely on accident. 

You see, the Hasegawa’s apartment was small, smaller than their home back in Canada. And Langa didn’t see himself as someone who really cared about that sort of thing, but he did yearn for a yard. A balcony even. He missed being able to plant a garden with his mother in the spring, and soaking up the little sunshine Canada blessed them with in the summer. 

But their little apartment did have a bay window, and Langa would just have to settle for that. 

And after a first day of school in a new country, learning in a language he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, he found himself feeling incredibly homesick. 

So the stiff cushions of the bay window became his refuge, his cheeks sticking to the glass with remnants of tears he couldn’t dare let his mother see. The street below wasn’t busy, there weren't any businesses on this side it seemed. Just residential areas, building after building housing more sad boys like him, probably. That’s the way he thought back in those days.  

And then, it flew by. If he had blinked, he would have missed it, and he was grateful he hadn’t. 

A flash of red, and yellow, and maybe every other color of the rainbow if Langa had the chance to slow the moment down. He was skating, faster than Langa had assumed you could go on a skateboard. And he was smiling, so genuinely that it made Langa jealous. And he was alone, just like Langa was. 

And then he was gone, Langa thought maybe he had imagined him. He shrugged the vision off the best he could, reminded himself that no one was that happy on their own. He wasn’t. 

But then it happened again, and again, and again. And suddenly, Langa wasn’t using the window to remind himself of home anymore, he was looking for him. He was searching for that unbridled joy in his face, hoping maybe his carefree expression could transfer to Langa through osmosis. 

Kyan Reki. 

Langa didn’t like to think of himself as a stalker, though Miya would tell him otherwise. He respected Reki’s privacy and kept his distance while they were still in school together. His admiration was always from afar, always kept tucked away.  

If Langa had been more brazen, maybe he would have befriended the other boy. But brazen he was not, and Reki did enough to inspire him just by existing. 

Wow, maybe he was a stalker. 

Langa really didn’t look out for him every day, just when he felt he needed it. He had a life, of course, and he had matured a lot since his unstable adolescence. Langa was happy, for the most part. He felt he had defied many odds the universe had stacked against him, and as his therapist liked to remind him, that was something to be proud of. 

Now that they worked together, Langa supposed he should stop his habit. He was sure if Reki found out his already-weird coworker liked to watch him skate by his apartment he would definitely quit. He just had to see him one more time, for good measure. 

He knew Reki had been hired at his location. He knew he was going to be starting that Thursday. He knew that they would work together. Nothing could prepare him for his first real interactions with the boy who he had a very mino r obsession with. If Miya ever found out Langa thought of him like that, he’d definitely have him admitted. 

Reki was different from what he had imagined, but also the same. In school he had always seemed so sure of himself, and on his board he looked as though he could never doubt himself for a moment. His confidence was addicting. Langa had long outgrown the pain of jealousy he felt towards the other boy, and instead he watched in amazement.

So he was surprised by how unsure he was on that first day. Some might even say the idealist within him was disillusioned. Langa felt guilty for almost being disappointed. Not with Reki, of course, who was only human and naturally was nervous on his first day at a new job. He was disappointed that someone or something could make a person as infallible as Kyan Reki unsure of himself -- and okay , maybe he was definitely more than a little obsessed. 

He hadn’t expected to fall for Reki more, which he knew was silly considering he didn’t even know the guy prior. But it had seemed impossible. Reki had unknowingly given Langa hope during a time he felt hopeless. Even if he never got the chance to know him personally, knowing of him would be enough. 

And now he was confronted with all these new facts about him, like how he spoke too loudly sometimes without meaning to, and the way his face scrunched up in concentration when he was searching for an item on the register. He was pretty sure he’d caught him doodling on a napkin the other day -- cartoons Langa didn’t recognize that had to have come from Reki’s own imagination. It was all too much, like Reki had been put into the universe adjacent to Langa, the perfect person who was always just right out of reach. 

“You look pensive as fuck,” Miya snapped, crumpling up another piece of notebook paper. Langa had been gone for too long and his younger cousin was clearly annoyed. 

“Sorry,” Langa shook his head, giving his best apologetic smile, “I just have a lot on my mind. School.” 

Miya snorted. “Yeah, school. Not your new work bestie?” 

“School is stressful,” Langa frowned. 

“Liar,” Miya grinned devilishly, entertained by the new game he’d discovered. “I can tell you’re lying. Wanna know how?”

“No.”

“Your eyebrows move a lot when you lie!” Miya fell over in giggles, looking younger than his age. 

Langa stared at him, deadpan. Maybe if he didn’t feed into his taunts, he’d back off. 

“Does he know you’re totally in love with him yet?” Miya sang, “Y’know, he likes boys too.”

“How would you even know that?” Langa’s brows furrowed, suddenly very interested in his cousin's games. 

Miya straightened up, his smile faltering. “Just a hunch.” 

Langa hummed, deciding to take his win. He could have pushed further, Miya was always slipping up like this. He knew his cousin had to know Reki in some capacity; the way he’d bring him up in conversation wasn’t like someone just making assumptions about a total stranger. They were both in the skating scene, and Miya was overly protective of whatever that meant for the two of them. 

Instead, he filed the comment away for another time. If he could build a case, Miya would have to tell him how he knew Reki. Langa didn’t mind playing the long game. 

They sat in comfortable silence after that, the only sound coming from Miya’s phone as he mindlessly scrolled through TikTok. Every once in a while, Langa’s phone would buzz with a notification from him sending one to him. 

He continued to stare out the window. If he could just see Reki one more time like this, that could be it. They were coworkers now, and could  maybe even be friends if Langa played his cards right. He just needed one more push of bravery from the bravest boy he didn’t really know, and then he could do it. 

And just like that first day, Reki showed up just when Langa needed him most, just as he was giving out on hope. A flash of rainbow colored lightning, but something was different -- something was wrong. Langa sat up straighter, trying to get a better look as Reki flew by. 

His face was twisted up in a way Langa had never seen it before. He had always looked so carefree, especially when he was on his board. He looked tired, worried maybe. Langa ached to run after him, to ask him what had changed. 

That wasn’t an option, for obvious reasons, but he ached anyway.

“Geeze, what’s his problem?” Miya huffed, suddenly appearing over Langa’s shoulder to join him in his observations. 

“I wish I knew.” 

Langa floated through the next few days, unable to stop thinking about the look on Reki’s face the last time he’d see him. 

They hadn’t been scheduled together until Saturday morning, an entire five days between seeing him again. Maybe Yuna had it out for him, or maybe she was looking out for him. He hadn’t made up his mind either way. 

He knew it wouldn’t matter whether they worked together or not. It wasn’t like Langa could just go up to his coworker he barely knew and say, ‘Hey, I was watching you from my window the other day! Yeah, I do that sometimes. Anyway, you looked kinda sad, wanna tell me what’s wrong?’

That would definitely scare him away. 

But maybe he could make things better. Maybe if he could talk to Reki, he could make him laugh. Langa seemed to be okay at doing that. Reki laughed easily, but Langa liked to think he saved his most genuine laughs for him.

God, he was becoming delusional. 

Langa groaned to himself and scrubbed harder at the sink. Maybe if he inhaled enough chemical fumes he could pass out and forget about his big dumb crush. 

“What’s buggin ya tall?” Yuna asked, nudging Langa’s hip with her own. 

“Bleach,” Langa gestured to the sink in front of him. He avoided looking up to meet Yuna’s eyes, just in case Miya was right about the eyebrow thing. 

“You love cleaning,” Yuna tutted. “What’s really bothering you?” 

“Love is a strong word,” Langa smiled a little, finally looking over at Yuna. “I like it more than helping customers.” 

“Always so honest,” Yuna sighed, patting Langa on the head like he was her dutiful dog. “Never change, tall.” 

Langa smiled again, warmer this time. Yuna was a nice girl, but she still intimidated him a little, if he was being honest. 

He was comfortable around women. Being the token gay in his middle school “friend” group was the closest he got to a normal teenage experience before leaving Canada. But Yuna was a force; she came into the store ready to prove herself. A lot of Langa’s coworkers didn’t like it, whispered insults behind her back and came up with stealthy ways to defy her.

Langa liked her from the beginning, albeit a little hesitantly, as he was always one to respect passion and excitement. He stood up for her any chance he got, and things seemed to be getting easier for her as the rest of the team adjusted to her reign. 

“You didn’t answer my question though,” she continued, pretending to rinse off a part of the sink Langa had already meticulously shined. He cringed a little, watching his hard work be washed away. 

“I just polished that,” he whined, “and I told you, the bleach was just giving me a headache.” 

Yuna let out a little ‘ oop’ and bowed in apology, quickly putting the bucket of water down. 

“I can tell you're lying, wanna know how?”

“You know what? I actually really don’t-”

“Your eyebrows!” she exclaimed, sounding overly pleased with herself. Langa wanted to melt into the drain. 

“Please tell me,” Yuna begged. You never tell me any gossip, and gossip is like, basically a right of passage. What’s the point of working in food service if you don’t gossip with your coworkers?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be managing me?” Langa raised an eyebrow, “Is this an HR violation?”

Yuna rolled her eyes, “ Fine, ” she huffed, “you don’t have to tell me. I’ll just… go sweep.” 

Langa laughed a little, then sighed. He supposed if he was going to talk to anyone about his problem, it would be Yuna. She seemed wise for her age, and he didn’t have to mention that the object of his affections was a certain redheaded barista.

“I’m having boy troubles,” he finally admitted, peeling off the bright pink rubber gloves he used to clean the sinks. They seemed to be sticking to his sweaty palms more than usual. 

“Ooooooh!” Yuna cooed, spinning around to stare up at Langa intensely. “What’s he like? How’d you meet him? What’s the problem?”
Langa cleared his throat, unable to meet her bright brown eyes.“He’s… cute. Erm, and funny?”

“Wow, you suck at this.”

“Okay, nice chat.” 

“Noooo,” Yuna pulled on the sleeve of his black button down. “Don’t be so uptight! It’s not like I know the guy or anything. There’s nothing to lose by telling me!’ 

Langa almost laughed at the irony. He wondered how Yuna would react if she knew she’d trained the boy he was pining over. 

“He’s… shorter than me,” Langa continued cautiously, “and he’s really good at, well, a lot of things.”

“A jack of all trades,” Yuna sighed dreamily. “What’s his name?” 

Shit. Langa panicked, looking around behind the counter for inspiration. His eyes settled on a bag of unground coffee.

“Bean.” 

“ Bean? ” Yuna tilted her head, looking at Langa like he was crazy. “Is that, like, some weird Canadian name?”

“Y-yes,” Langa nodded, “It’s, uh, a nickname I gave him. We went to high school together. Before I moved.” 

He wondered if his eyebrows would give his blatant lie away. 

Yuna studied him for a second, and seemed to either believe him or decide it wasn’t worth questioning any further. 

“So, what are the problems then? Distance?”

“You could say that,” Langa scratched his head, “I’m not really good at… communicating.”

“You don’t say.”

Langa pouted, “Be nice. you’re lucky I’m telling you this.” 

“I’m only teasing!” Yuna giggled, “I think it’s sweet, I can tell you’re very taken with Bean .” 

“How?” Langa asked. Was he really that obvious about everything? He had never thought of himself to be the type to wear his emotions on his face, but had he been wrong? 

“You’ve been so dreamy lately, like you aren’t even here. You’re like a little ghost, all lost in your thoughts and glazed over and what not. Super mysterious, haven’t you noticed your fan club are being extra loyal customers lately? C’mon, Casanova!” 

Langa hadn’t noticed.n fact, he liked to pretend the herd of girls who came in to flirt with him just really enjoyed his latte making skills. 

He frowned. He had to get better at concealing this stuff. How was he going to get through Saturday without every patron of Starbucks finding out he was falling head over heels for his coworker? 

“It’s sweet, Langa,” Yuna repeated, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. “He’s obviously really important to you, so whatever is holding you back, you need to… get over it!” 

Langa blinked It was really that easy for people like Yuna, wasn’t it? 

“Y’know, when Kyo and I first got together, she was totally brooding. And you know how I am, so no one thought we’d be a good match, but now look at us,” Yuna beamed. “Is Bean like that? Like me? Well not like me, of course, I mean, are you two opposites? Is that why it’s difficult?”

Langa felt suddenly  overwhelmed with information. He hadn’t even known Kyo and Yuna were dating. He thought they were just good friends. He really needed to talk to his peers more. 

“Um, kinda,” Langa hesitated. He didn’t want to give too much away. And Reki wasn’t like Yuna; sure, they were both talkative and excitable, but he was fairly certain the similarities ended there. He hadn’t even considered how different he was from the other boy, but now he had yet another insecurity to add to his growing list. 

“Opposites totally attract!” Yuna squealed. “You have to find out his birthday, birth time, and birthplace for me, okay? Or I’ll fire you.” 

By the look on Yuna’s face, Langa couldn’t even tell f she was kidding. 

Luckily, before his manager could pry further, the bell for the front door rang and they both welcomed the person into the store in unison. 

“Just me,” Reki smiled brightly. 

Langa could have passed out on the spot, and he wouldn’t even be able to blame the bleach. 

“Oh hi Reki!” Yuna greeted him warmly. She, too, had taken to him quite fast. 

“Hiya,” Reki swung his board behind his back, letting it hang through the loops of his backpack. 

He was wearing the most obnoxious orange colored tank top Langa had ever seen, and it was covered in what looked like splatters of paint. His baggy basketball shorts seemed to be in the same state, and Langa wondered if he had been working on an art project all morning. By the flecks of blue paint that dusted his cheeks amongst his freckles, he could only assume that’s what he’d been up to. 

Langa was in trouble. Reki looked too good. 

“Hi Langa,” Reki greeted, waving shyly. 

Langa had completely forgotten to say anything to him. Idiot.

“Bonjour,” he stuttered out.

The three of them stood in silence for a moment. Langa had accidentally spoken in French. 

Reki finally laughed, from the pit of his stomach all the way up to his golden, painted face. 

“Man, you’re hilarious!” Reki laughed louder. Maybe he was hoping it would cover up the awkward tension in the air. 

It didn’t. But Yuna let it slide, and Langa needed to thank her for it later. 

“So,” Yuna giggled nervously, her eyes darting between the two of them with a strange curiosity. “What brings you in, Reki?” 

“Just here for my tips,” Reki cleared his throat, and the blue specks of paint really brought out the bright red flush across his cheeks. 

“They’re in the break room,” Yuna kept smiling, gesturing with her head towards the hallway off the side of the store. “You can go grab them!” 

Reki pulled at the collar of his tank top, revealing more splatters of paint and the tip of a nondescript tattoo. Langa was going to die. 

“Thanks, Yuna!” Reki nodded, heading towards the break room in a hurry.

“So…” Yuna said casually, after Reki had said his awkward goodbyes and rushed out of the store. She held the bag of unground coffee in her hands and looked at Langa. “Bean?” 

So Langa wasn’t very good at being subtle. It wasn’t something he’d ever had the chance to find out before, but he certainly knew that now. 

The rest of he and Yuna’s shift together was a relentless shower of questions. 

‘Did you know him before he worked here? Do you think he’s, y’know? Oh my God you’re blushing! Are you going to confess?’

Langa was ready to sink into the ground beneath him. He wasn’t cut out for a life of romance. Yearning felt like the worst stomach flu he’d ever had.

All he could do now was hope that Reki was oblivious, or at least kind enough to forgive Langa for his schoolyard crush. He didn’t expect to be bullied for his feelings or anything. Reki seemed to be a perfectly reasonable guy. That didn’t mean things wouldn’t get excessively awkward if he did catch on, however. 

He nearly called in sick on Saturday morning, but he knew Yuna would call bullshit. 

Langa just had to try his best to not be jittery, not blush so much, and not stare. It was simple, a few tasks he could easily follow. He was an adult, he could control himself like one. 

But then Reki walked in for his shift, half asleep, with his messy red hair tied back into two braids. 

Langa was doomed, hopeless, and feeling incredibly ill. 

“Bonjour,” Reki smiled sheepishly, putting himself to work at preparing his hot chai latte before he even set his bag down. 

Langa blushed. Strike one. 

“Morning,” he replied, and he knew he probably sounded constipated, but he hoped Reki could just let it slide for the time being. He needed to get his shit together. 

“Not so chipper today,” Reki hummed, busying himself with steaming oat milk and excessive pumps of chai. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen!” 

The tension in Langa’s shoulders eased a little as he let out a puff of a laugh. It was hard to be stoic around Reki. Not when he was half lidded from the early morning, eyelashes dusting round cheeks adorned with freckles. His smile soft and content, like he knew something nobody else did. Like he held the secrets of the universe.

And Langa was staring. Strike two.  

“Didn’t get much sleep last night,” Langa said truthfully.

Sleep had evaded him for the last few nights, with his anxiety about seeing Reki again. He thought maybe, if he planned everything out, he could avoid any awkward situations. If he could just imagine every possible scenario, he could figure out the best course of action, and he could walk away unscathed no matter the outcome. 

So he’d lay awake at night, staring at his ceiling, wondering what he would do if a spontaneous tornado hit their Starbucks and the entrances were blocked. How would he and Reki handle it? Maybe Reki could take over the break room, and Langa could sleep on the bags of coffee beans. That way they’d have their own space. How long would it even take to be rescued? What if Reki wanted his company? Was that so far from reality? What if Reki was so overcome with despair over the situation he tried to kill Langa? That would really suck. 

“I can tell,” Reki laughed, patting Langa gently on the shoulder. 

The sudden physical contact made him jump a little.

Strike three. 

“You have no idea,” Langa muttered under his breath.

The rest of the morning followed much of the same plot. Langa being on edge, trying his best to pretend he wasn’t absolutely shitting himself every time Reki so much as looked his way. 

It was a miserable way to exist, truthfully, and Langa considered quitting his job. But, unfortunately, he liked his job. So he considered just straight up confessing to Reki, to rip the bandaid off. But, also unfortunately, Langa really liked Reki, and he didn’t want to scare him off. 

Purgatory would have to suffice. 

“Dude, are you having another nitro cold brew?” Reki asked, raising a judgmental brow. 

Langa looked down at the venti cup he was gripping with a trembling hand. He wondered if he’d accidentally crush it, spilling its contents all over the floor Reki had just sweeped. That would be just his luck.
“Yeah,” he nodded, not backing down as he took a sip. The liquid made his stomach churn. 

“No wonder you can’t sleep,” Reki shook his head. “You should try taking melatonin. Gives me wicked nightmares, but I always feel well-rested the next day!”

Langa didn’t let his mind wander to the thought of Reki stirring in his sleep from nightmares, reaching out for someone next to him. He didn’t think about Reki having to go through that alone, because Langa was perfectly normal and not a maladaptive daydreamer. 

“I’ll have to try that,” he said through a forced smile, and he hoped he didn’t look too neurotic.

“Do you,” Reki hesitated, his eyebrows knitting together in concern, “do you need me to like, call someone in? You’re acting weird, dude. I’m worried.” 

Langa deflated. If Reki wasn’t there he would have banged his head against the stainless steel counter. Now he had Reki worrying about him. He couldn’t believe how horribly he was handling all of this. 

He had been perfectly fine before. He had coped. Reki had helped him, but he didn’t need to know that. Langa could just choose to move on with his life. Maybe he could tell his future grandchildren about the one that got away. He tried to imagine his future husband being okay with that, and in this dream future, he could. 

It had even been fine when they started working together, Langa could still keep his distance, could even casually befriend Reki. He could find out all about his quirks, and make him laugh, and listen to him tell animated stories about what his little sisters got him into the day before. It could have been nice. 

But then he let himself watch for just a little too long, saw the look on Reki’s face that day he was skating, and now he was truly a goner. Foolish, naive, Langa. It was bound to happen, he knew that, but he wished he could have kept it the way it was before for just a little bit longer. 

The look on Reki’s face from that day was burned into his brain, and after sleepless nights of studying it, he knew exactly what it was. 

Reki was alone. 

And of course that was the final straw. That was what had sent Langa propelling down further into his feelings. Because Langa knew loneliness, knew it better than any other emotion. And he had never felt closer to Reki than he did now. Langa wanted to help him. But now he had Reki worried about him. 

“I’m okay,” he finally sighed, making a conscious effort to relax his face. “We only have a few hours left. I don’t wanna call anyone in on short notice.” 

Reki’s frown faded a little, but he still eyed Langa with hesitance. “Are you sure? ”

Langa nodded, taking another sip from his cold brew. He made an effort to hide the way it made his shoulders shake. 

“I’m fine, I promise,” he rolled his eyes playfully. “Just tired.” 

“Oldest excuse in the book,” Reki snorted. “I see right through you, Hasegawa. But fine, I won’t keep asking.” 

Langa hoped he was lying. 

Langa took Reki’s advice that night, and took three melatonin gummies from his mom’s medicine cabinet. 

In retrospect, it might have been overkill. He’d always had a low tolerance for medication in general. His mom had said he had a sensitive disposition, whatever that meant, and 30mg was probably a lot for anyone taking it for the first time.

But Langa was desperate, and tired, and his brain couldn’t stop repeating Reki’s voice saying, ‘I see right through you, Hasegawa.’ 

So it was worth a shot. 

Reki was right about the intense dreams. Most nights, his dreams would be about work, usually involving weird customers or running out of products, nothing too crazy or out of the realm of possibility. He’d occasionally dream about a hockey player from the Canucks he had a longstanding crush on, but other than that, nothing out of the ordinary. 

That night, his dreams were filled with color. He couldn’t be sure when one color ended and another began;everything seemed to melt together. And there were so many voices, his mother, his father, Miya, Reki. He searched for their faces in the colors but couldn’t find anything. It was completely disorienting and hypnotizing at the same time. 

“Langa,” he heard a voice say, his mother’s, it was close. 

“Mmm,” Langa replied, the colors slowly fading away. 

“Langa, honey,” Nanako’s voice edged with anxiety. “It’s four o’clock, are you okay?” 

Langa blinked himself awake. Four o’clock? In the evening? Had he slept that long? 

“No,” Langa shook his head, and Nanako tensed. 

He shook his head again, sitting up, “No, I mean I’m okay, I’m okay mom.”

Nanoka studied him for a moment but seemed to relax, bringing a hand up to brush through the sweaty hair that was sticking to his forehead. 

“Are you feeling sick?”

“I’m okay mom,” Langa repeated, coming to his senses fully. The sun was in the middle of the sky, coloring his room in a golden overlay. He had really slept through the entire day. 

“Took too much melatonin,” he groaned, his stomach grumbling in equal annoyance. 

“Melatonin? How much?” Nanako asked, and by the look on her face, Langa knew he was about to get scolded. 

“Three of those little gummies,” he admitted. “They were good, and I was tired.”

Nanako sighed, “Stupid.”

“Gee, thanks mom.”

She smiled at him softly, “Only joking. Mostly. Have you been having trouble sleeping? Have you talked to Doctor H-”

Langa cut her off with a tight smile, a nonverbal reminder of their agreement. He would see a therapist if Nanako stayed out of it. No questions asked, unless Langa invited her. 

She nodded apologetically, “Sorry.” 

“S’kay,” Langa shrugged, “Just couldn’t sleep Friday night. I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

His mom rolled her eyes. She didn’t have to say what she was thinking for Langa to understand. 

“I’m hungry.”

“Miya is coming over with take out,” Nanako glanced at her phone. “He should be here any minute, that’s why I came to wake you. He was worried when you didn’t answer his texts.” 

Langa felt a pang of guilt. Miya was a chronic worrier. He was surprised he had waited so long to come busting down Langa’s door.

“He wanted to come this morning, but I was still at work,” Nanako laughed, as if reading Langa’s mind, “I told him to let you sleep.”

Langa shook his head and laughed too, reaching for his phone to check his notifications. 

Messages: [10 Messages from Miya]

Instagram: [3 Messages from @mi__chi]

TikTok: [21 Messages from @Xx.miiznutz.xX] 

Snapchat: [5 Snaps from @mi__chi]

Messages: [2 Messages from Kyan Reki]

Langa stared at his screen, then rubbed his eyes and stared again, just to make sure he was reading the last notification right. 

Two messages from Reki, from the night before, just a few minutes before he fell asleep. 

“Uh mom,” Langa cleared his throat, “I need to change.”

“Oh, sorry!” Nanako laughed, brushing her hand through her son’s hair one last time before she backed out of his room “Don’t take long! Miya will be here soon, and he’ll want physical proof that you’re alive!”

Langa nodded absentmindedly, still staring at the notification that lit up his lock screen.
His thumb hovered over it..it wouldn’t matter if he clicked on it anyways. He wasn’t a heathen with read receipts on, unlike Miya. But he still couldn’t bring himself to slide the notification open. 

He threw his phone on his bed and paced, the only thing he really knew how to do in times of stress like this. What could Reki possibly want? What if something bad had happened and he needed his shift covered and Langa had slept through it? What if he knew Langa was totally in love with him and thought he was a freak? What if he was trying to tell Langa he smelled weird?

The possibilities were endless. Langa didn’t do well with endless possibilities. 

“Langa,” Miya called, bounding into his room without a single knock. “You didn’t answer any of my messages, what the fuck dude!”

Langa could hear his mother call out, “Language!” in the distance, but everything else seemed to blur around him. 

“Yo, you alright dude?” Miya asked, tilting his head to look at Langa with concern. Why was he worrying everyone so much lately? 

“Reki texted me,” Langa groaned, flopping onto his bed dramatically.

“Nice, so you can look at his texts but not mine-”

“I haven’t opened it,” Langa scowled.

Miya crossed the room before Langa could realize what he was doing, and then he was grabbing his phone, and God, did Langa regret letting him add his face ID. 

“Miya don’t,” Langa glared at him, pushing himself up, ready to launch at his younger cousin. 

“If you won’t open them, I will,” Miya shrugged, taking several steps away from Langa as he made quick work with his phone, “it’s boring anyways.”

He tossed the phone onto Langa’s bed with disinterest, leaving Langa to scramble towards it and read the messages for himself.

Kyan Reki: hey man just checkin in u feelin better?

Kyan Reki: if u cant sleep, u can txt me if u want :3

Langa stared at his window, wondering how mad Miya would be if he jumped out of it.
“Guess you shouldn’t have slept in,” Miya tutted. “ Someone wanted to talk to you.” 

“I can never win,” Langa said blankly, staring at the messages.

Reki wanted to text him. Reki had checked up on him. Reki was initiating conversation outside of work. Langa had prepared himself for many scenarios, and this wasn’t one of them. This was uncharted territory.

“Are you gonna reply?” Miya asked, as if it was the simplest question in the world.

Langa stared at him, scandalized by his brashness. 

“What would I even say?” Langa began. “He texted me,what, 15 hours ago? How weird would it be to answer now? What would I even say? ”

“Sheesh,” Miya screwed up his face. “You’re losing it, dude.” 

Langa pinched his forehead, and closed his eyes, trying to figure out what he was going to do next. 

“There,” Miya said simply, and Langa felt the soft ‘pat’ of his phone land next to him. When had Miya taken it? 

“What did you do?” he gawked, eyes wide with terror.

“I solved your problem,” Miya shrugged. “I’m hungry, can we eat now?”

“Miya, what the fuck,” Langa whispered, grabbing his phone and unlocking it with shakey hands. 

Me: Sorry. Took too much melatonin and fell asleep for 15 hours. Oops. Thanks :)

“I don’t even text like that,” Langa whined.

“Yes, you do, can we please go eat?”

“You’re a life ruiner,” Langa shook his head, “I can’t believe you’d betr-”

Langa’s phone buzzed. 

“Wow he’s a fast replier,” Miya snorted, “figures.” 

Langa unlocked his phone, cautiously, as if he was trying to not set off a bomb. 

Kyan Reki: no prob! glad u got sum rest! 

Langa couldn’t believe this was happening. 

His phone lit up again. 

Kyan Reki: u wont believe the crazy customer we had today omg

Miya whistled. “ A double texter,” he teased. “And you didn’t believe me when I said he was into guys.”

“Shut up,” Langa hissed.

He stared at his screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Surely this meant Reki wanted to engage with him. So why was Langa so scared? 

“Do you need me to reply again?”

“No,” Langa shooed Miya away. “Go help mom set the table, I’ll be out in a second.” 

Miya huffed but didn’t argue, leaving Langa alone to reply. He nearly called him back, unsure if he could reply. What if he ruined it? What if he was so awkward he killed the conversation before it even began?

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and thought back to the kid who looked so invincible, riding his skateboard down vacant alleyways, completely free. And he thought about Reki, riding down the same alleyway, looking so alone. 

It was Langa’s turn to be brave.