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“Your rear foot doesn’t matter as much. It’s about balancing on the front.” Reki watches Langa struggle with a nose manual, a step for learning various other skateboarding tricks.
Langa’s arms fly around wildly, and he hops off his board. The sloping orange ramps at the local skate park glow in the sunset. It’s deserted besides them; Reki thinks a lot of people are on dates. It’s White Day, where gifts from Valentine’s day are given back threefold. He’s not really up to speed.
Miya mentioned he got a white day gift earlier, super loud, and then super quiet about it. Langa had asked a lot of questions, probably to learn the Japanese customs, while Reki practiced his rails on the side.
“Put your hands out,” Reki says as Langa goes to try again. The nose manual demands balance, since it’s practically a wheelie on the front wheels of your board.
“Okay.” Langa’s watching his feet, overgrown hair in his face. His board stutters along the concrete, and falters. “Can you do it again?” Langa’s sneakers rest on his board as he waits, expectant.
“Yeah, of course.” Reki pushes off, gliding along the concrete. Once he’s situated his feet, he shifts his body weight forwards. The back wheels of his board achieve liftoff and for a few seconds, he’s riding on only one pair. He grins at the trick, and then falls back onto his back wheels.
Reki looks up at Langa, smiling. “It took me ages to master it. I think around two months.”
Langa’s watching him intently. They came here right after Langa’s shift at Dope Sketch, so he’s still in the bright pink shirt.
“Can you?” Langa asks, tilting his head.
Reki does it again, this time maintaining the trick for a few seconds longer.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Reki gives him a thumbs up.
Langa pushes off on his skateboard, feet slotting into the bracket Reki made. He’s pretty proud of that board. The snow monster design on the bottom comes from the yeti legend Langa told Reki at his insistence, although Langa was adamant there were no yetis in Canada. They drew and painted it together.
Langa almost nails the nose manual. He blows his hair out of his face.
“Langa.” Reki steps over to him. “Stop watching your feet.”
“But then I don’t know what to do.” Langa frowns.
“Just, I don’t know, feel it.”
“You’re not very helpful.” Langa’s got a little smile on his face. He’s too tall with the added height of his board.
“Hey! I’m the best skateboarding teacher around!” Reki sticks a hand on his hip.
Langa laughs. When he laughs he slips out of Japanese has a distinctly English pronunciation. It’s harsher, and a lot more joyous. Reki grins.
“Try—” Reki says, and then Langa looks down again. His hair curtains over his eyes.
“Wait, come here.” Reki hops off his board and shoves up the sleeve of his yellow sweater. “Here.” He pulls a black elastic off his wrist and gives it to Langa. “Tie up your mess.”
“You use elastics?” Langa eyes his red mop and headband.
“Nah, they’re for my sisters. I carry around an emergency one because they’re forgetful.”
Langa nods. He reaches back, gathering his wispy hair into a ponytail.
“Do you want me to?” Langa’s fingers are clumsy with the foreign motions. “I do it for my sisters all the time.”
Langa exhales. “Okay.” He passes the elastic back to Reki with unpracticed fingers.
“How’s your hand, by the way?” Reki nudges Langa off his board to stand in front of Reki. Ha. Now Reki can be closer to his height.
“This?” Langa holds up his left hand, covered in a bandage from attempting an ollie in an abandoned alleyway and getting scared by a misplaced calico cat.
“Yeah. Is it holding up?”
Langa nods. Reki’s hands bunch up Langa’s hair into a low ponytail.
“Your hair is really nice,” Reki observes. It’s thin and soft and kinda silky.
“Oh,” Langa says with a swallow. He seems stiff. “Really.”
“Yeah, it matches your S name.”
Langa shifts when Reki’s fingers graze his neck, circling the elastic around his hair. Reki briefly wonders if he has something against people touching his neck. Reki knew someone like that in middle school. But Langa isn’t shying away from his touch.
“Do people in Canada have nice hair?” Reki asks.
“What? Canada?”
“‘Yeah.” Langa’s a fine sample of a Canadian. Right?
“Uh, I guess so.” Langa shrugs. “It’s different for everyone.”
“Do yetis have nice hair?”
“We don’t have yetis in Canada.” Langa laughs. This time it’s a little muted.
“I think you do.”
Langa replies to him in English. Reki doesn’t understand, but he gets the mischievous tone.
Reki huffs and pushes Langa. “Done!”
Langa’s hands come up tentatively to his hair. Besides some flyaways framing his face, it’s contained. Reki’s seen girls in his class do their hair like this. It looks better on Langa.
“If you’re going to look down, make sure you can actually see.” Reki punches his shoulder lightly. “Even if you have to look like a prince.”
“A prince?” Langa echoes.
“Yeah, where’s your head today?” Reki kicks up his board on the nose. It jumps up into his hands. “I’m going to work on the ramp for a bit, okay?”
“Okay.” Langa smiles, and goes back to the nose manual.
---
“Do you think Miya would let us go to one of his tournaments?” Reki’s juice tastes like too much orange and not enough fizz. They’re on the blue stairs of the skatepark, vending machine drinks in their hands and boards under their feet.
“Maybe,” Langa says around his straw of green tea in a can. “If they let the public in.”
Reki isn’t sure if a tournament full of Miyas would inspire him or make him a little dejected that they’re so far ahead. But he does know there would be insane tricks.
“I’m pretty sure it’s televised sometimes, so we can watch it anyway.”
“Miya will tell us about it.” To Miya, the tournaments are pretty mundane. He’s either signing up, training, or just finished one.
“Yeah, he only says they’re full of elitists and then yammers about his games.” Reki stretches. “I wish I was as good as him at thirteen.”
Langa’s blue eyes are watching him. “Reki! You’re amazing. Don’t say that.” Langa sounds offended on his behalf.
“Yeah, yeah, but you know.”
Langa frowns at him. A few curls have fallen out of the elastic, and now Langa really does look like a prince. “No, you are amazing.”
“So are you!” Reki elbows him. “You got the ollie down in like two weeks! That’s incredible.”
Langa’s cheeks pinken. He’s told Reki the snowboarding industry in Canada was really competitive. Compliments were probably a rarity, so now they surprise him.
That’s unfair. Langa deserves more compliments,
“And you haven’t given up.” Reki swings his drink in the air. “Most people think they can pick up skateboarding in a weekend and then give it up when they realize they can’t look cool without putting in the effort. You didn’t do that. That’s pretty awesome. And you’re leaning the nose manual already! That’s insane. You’re insane, Langa.”
When Reki turns to him, Langa’s face is in his hands.
“Langa, are you okay? Is the juice bad?”
“Ah, no.” Langa peeks through his fingers. It’s adorable. “Nothing.”
Hmm, okay. Reki knows Langa’s got some funny tendencies from Canada. Maybe it’s a Canadian thing. Whatever.
“You’re incredible too, Reki.” Langa’s hair falls back around his face, grazing his shoulders when he pulls out the band. Reki mourns for the look. Maybe Langa will let him do it again tomorrow.
Reki laughs from his stomach. “Thanks.” One or two of Langa’s compliments feel like sunshine.
It’s peaceful in the skatepark when it’s just the two of them, a darkening sky and new scraps on their boards. Reki’s so happy Langa transferred here. It had been lonely coming here himself.
“Did you get anything today?” Reki kicks his feet out in front of him. He thinks White Day doesn’t mirror Valentine’s day directly anymore. People just use it as an excuse to confess and eat chocolate.
“Was I…” Langa seems conscious he forgets things easily. “Supposed to?”
Reki shrugs. “I dunno. I thought you would.”
Langa shakes his head. “I would?”
“Yeah, obviously.” Langa’s one of those pretty boys.
And the said pretty boy looks confused.
“No?” Langa says. “I didn’t get anything.”
“Give anything?” Reki teases.
Langa presses his lips together.
Huh?
“Langa! Who! What did you give them?” Reki shakes his shoulders. There’s someone? Langa likes someone? He can’t think of anyone off the top of his head. Langa spends all his time with Reki at the skate park. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I didn’t say—” Langa says in between shakes. “That—I—gave—anyone—anything.”
“Do I know them? Are they in our class? Are they in Canada? Wait, are you dating them?” If Langa’s dating someone, he’d spend less time with Reki, so please say no, please say no.
“Reki!” Langa’s eyes are wide. They look lighter, brighter against the sky. “Reki, stop.”
Reki takes his hands off Langa’s shoulders. “Ehe. Sorry.”
“Why are you panicking so much?”
Why is he panicking so much?”
“I dunno,” Reki mumbles. “I thought you would tell me. That stuff is exciting.”
“Dating?”
“Well if you’re dating someone, I want to know,” Reki defends. Obviously, so he can be a stellar wingman and pick out gifts and make sure the girl is good to Langa. But he doesn’t know any girls who are good enough for Langa. Langa’s special.
“I’m not dating,” Langa says with slight exasperation. “I’m not dating anyone.”
“Oh.” Good.
Wait. Reki pauses. Good?
Why is that the knee-jerk reaction for him? Actually, he has a guess. He's seen all those messy relationships filled with arguments and the silent treatment and he doesn’t want Langa to go through that. Dating someone is just like spending a lot of time with them and sharing stuff and being there and pretty much their friendship but with romance.
“Are you?” Langa asks, somewhat timidly. “Are you dating someone?”
“Absolutely not. And you would know. If I was dating someone we wouldn’t have time to work on your nose manual.” Reki leans back on his hands. “And it sounds like a lot of work, y'know. Always calling them and taking them places and spending money on them.” He’d much rather put that towards skateboarding.
“Right.” Langa fiddles with his shoelaces. “So you don’t want to date someone?”
“Well yeah,” Reki says, and then amends his statement. “I’m not going to go look for one, but it doesn’t sound awful. Well, if it was with the right person.”
“I see.” Langa tips his head back to look at the sky. It’s a deep blue now, and it shadows over everything. “What do people do in relationships over here?”
“Uhhh, go on dates.” Reki thinks. He’s not too sure. “The mall, restaurants, walk to class together, share food, stuff like that.”
“Haven’t…” Langa trails. He’s fidgeting with the elastic in his fingers, threading it around and stretching it.
“What?”
“No, continue.”
“Just basic stuff. And then hold hands and kiss or whatever.” Reki wrinkles his nose. Is it different in Canada? From what movies he's watched from the US, it seems pretty standard.
“Oh,” Langa says faintly.
“Mostly depends on the people, y'know. That’s just the generic stuff.” Most of the fizz of his drink is gone. Reki gulps the last bit down, and it clatters when he places the can on the blue stairs.
“What would you want to do on a date?"
“A date?”
“Yeah, if you were dating someone.” Langa’s voice sounds unsteady. Maybe he’s tired. Maybe it’s from all the falls and bailing today.
Reki shifts his skateboard back and forth under his feet, the familiar sound of wheels rolling off concrete. “I don’t know.” He hasn’t given it too much. The two of them are always busy, anyways.
He hums. “Maybe I would teach them skateboarding. That would be a cool date, right?”
“Right,” Langa echoes.
Then again, it would feel weird teaching anyone skateboarding now. Even when he started teaching Langa it was a shot in the dark and now teaching anyone but Langa would feel weird.
“I’d take them to somewhere flat and teach them the basics, maybe dinner or a drink after? Something casual.” Reki thinks. “It would kinda be up to them, I guess. Depends on what they want to do.”
Langa nods.
“What about you?” Reki exams the bottom of his board with chipping yellow paint. Maybe they can paint it in his studio this weekend.
“Ice cream,” Langa says. Reki laughs, of course it’s food.
“Like the place we went to last weekend?” They had the best strawberry ice cream Reki had ever eaten, generous scoops and almond tipped cones. Miya had recommended the place offhandedly at S.
Langa nods. “Ice cream, and then maybe a walk in the park.”
“Nice.”
“If it was late,” Reki says, watching the fading sky. It makes Langa’s hair and pink shirt glow. “Maybe I’d watch the sunset with them. People do that kinda stuff on dates, right?”
Langa nods. The trees rustle around them, shadowing the park.
“Ah well.” Reki stretches. Not like they need the hypothetical date plans.
Although going back to the ice cream place does sound like a good idea.
Wait.
“Langa—”
“Please—”
They’re both staring at each other, open-mouthed like the world’s on pause. Reki knows they’re both furiously trying to think and make sense of everything and he’s short-circuiting.
Ice cream. Sunset. Date. Langa. Skateboarding. Drinks. Date. Casual. Langa. Date. Langa. Langa. Langa, Langa, Langa.
Langa.
“Sorry,” Langa says. Reki faintly registers that part might be Canadian. “You go first.”
“No.” Reki shakes his head. “You.”
Langa turns his head away. The elastic around his hands looks so tight it’s going to snap.
“Go, I interrupted,” Langa says softly.
“Oh, uh, okay.” Reki doesn’t know where to start. “Uh, are you looking to date, someone?”
Langa hesitates. “If it was with the right person.”
But who is the right person? There’s literally no one good enough for Langa. He’s a fucking snowboarding prodigy pretty boy with prince hair and nice manners who likes food and cares too much for others and not enough for himself.
"Reki." The elastic stretches.
"Yeah?"
“I’m scared.”
“What?” Even though Langa looks tall, his presence is smaller, like he’s curled up his edges to protect the center.
“I’m scared.”
Reki doesn't get it. “Why?” There’s nothing around them that’s particularly scary. Just normal trees and their skateboard, and each other.
Langa’s hands are furiously twisting the elastic.
“Here.” Reki holds out his hand. If you're scared, you can hold my hand. “Don’t run away on me.” Reki doesn’t know why, but Langa looks terrified. Like he’s about to throw up his heart or sprint away from here. Langa takes his hand, although it feels like holding fire. Reki’s fingertips brush the back of Langa’s jittery hand with the bandage. His skin is soft, too, pretty. Like his hair.
“Are you still scared?” Reki asks.
“Yes.” Langa looks at their intertwined hands. “But this, this is helping.”
“Okay.” Langa’s weird. But Reki’s also weird, because all the nerves in his body seem to have collected in his chest, and zap right to his fingers touching Langa’s.
“Reki—” Langa takes a deep breath. “I have feelings for you.”
He looks like he’s going to elaborate, like all the words are sitting underneath his tongue, but he doesn’t.
“I have feelings for you,” Langa says again, softly. Even though it’s dark, Reki can see the fragility in Langa’s small smile. Reki’s utterly lost except for the fact Langa looks scared and worried and Reki doesn’t like that.
“I already watch sunsets with you, and you teach me skateboarding, and I get ice cream with you, and I’m always with you and—” Langa’s trying to meet his eyes.
You, you, you.
Reki, Reki, Reki.
Reki.
And Langa.
Reki and Langa.
“And I’m sorry if this is messing anything up, or if this is wrong in Japan but...” Langa’s speaking a little slower, and it trickles off into the sounds of the sunset. Reki can feel tremors running through Langa’s hand in his.
“Can you say something?” Langa interrupts the silence. Reki can see the words are stumbling and fighting over each other backstage, fogging up Langa's brain.
“Yeah, uh.” Reki forgets words. Langa’s eyes look troubled and foggy and Reki can’t see them all that well in the dark. So he reaches up and pushes them out of Langa’s face.
Reki and Langa.
The elastic snaps.
He’s been so painfully blind.
“Yeah, yeah,” Reki says roughly. “I—yeah.”
He tries to smile above the roar of his heart. “Yes, Langa.”
“Yes?” Langa sounds so hopeful and tipping over the edge of joy or frantic panic.
“Yes, I, um.” Reki doesn’t fucking know how to do this.
They’re staring at each other with a certain buzz that Reki can’t tell if it’s tension of confusion or pent-up hope, and words aren’t working so he leans forwards.
Langa seizes upright when Reki presses a kiss to his forehead. Blue hair brushes his mouth, and then Reki pulls back. It’s dark, but Langa’s eyes are a brilliant blue, flashing in shock and something close to excitement mixed with adoration.
“Yeah,” Reki says again. “That.”
Langa laughs, more air than breath, his mouth slightly parted. “So, you, it’s okay—”
“Langa, breathe.”
Langa takes a deep breath, and meet’s Reki’s gaze. Reki wonders he had never truly looked Langa in the face until now, because it’s blinding. His eyes really are something, filling up with battling courage and a cacophony of feelings. “Please accept me as your boyfriend.”
Please accept me as your boyfriend.
Reki’s heart swells.
“Okay,” he manages. “Okay.” Of course.
“So, yes?”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
“And, Reki, this is—” Langa reaches over, fingers slipping through his hair and under Reki’s headband. They're both about to combust, balancing and holding each other. “This is how the adults do it.”
The kiss makes his heart skyrocket.
---
“Hey, Reki.” There’s a hand in his, Langa’s bandage under Reki’s fingertips. They’re walking home, boards under their opposite arms to hold hands. Neither of them are scared.
“Yeah?”
“Can we go to all those date places?”
“You mean the ones we’ve already been to?”
“Yeah,” Langa says, with a flush. “But as a couple.”
Reki and Langa. As boyfriends.
“Sure.”
“You’re okay with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Reki says into the night air, free and unadulteratedly happy. It’s close to one in the morning.
“Well, you said—”
Reki shakes his head right away. “It’s fine.”
Langa looks confused under the layer of happiness. He’s been carrying a smile on his face since Reki squeezed his hand in the skate park and refused to let go.
“I want to do it with you. Again. As a couple.” If Langa’s going to make Reki say everything out loud, that might be a hazard for his heart.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Reki teases. Langa pushes lightly on his skateboard, watching Reki teeter, and then right himself by tugging on Langa’s arm.
“I was going to give you something, today,” Langa says into the diminished wind. Right, White Day.
“Like a confession?”
“I wasn’t sure.” Langa pushes off the road, carefully to make sure they stay within arm's reach of each other. “Just something.”
Reki grins. He’s got a pretty cool boyfriend. Boyfriend. “You gave me a broken hair elastic.” Reki’s got it in his pocket, and he plans on never losing it.
Langa’s a nice shade of pink as they roll up to his house. “You didn’t have to walk me home. Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll text you.” It’s the usual protocol. And they'll probably keep talking online for another hour until Langa insists Reki goes to sleep, or Langa falls asleep typing a response.
“Okay. And I have to tell you something.” They’re at a standstill next to Langa’s mailbox. Langa’s grin screams sugar and Reki’s heart matches it. “I’m dating someone.”
Langa, Langa, Langa.
“Yeah, who?”
Langa laughs as best as he can through a smile. “The right person.”