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Langa hadn't thought of himself as someone who spaced out a lot until he came to Okinawa. He was aware that his mother carried most of their conversations, but that wasn’t because he was spaced out; he listened to what she said, and responded when needed. It was just that he rarely felt the inspiration to offer much in the way of conversation himself.
He had overheard her on the phone with a friend one night, talking about him: "I think he just needs space... It's just hard to get that through my head - that that baby I held in my arms is almost a grown man, and he needs space from me."
He didn't mean to act distant. It wasn't a choice he was making. Sometimes, when the silences stretched painfully long during dinners with his mother, Langa tried, really tried, to be better company and think of things to say. But he couldn't. Putting his thoughts together felt like trying to snowboard with no slopes. A blank, flat landscape, plenty of snow but nothing to do with it - a cruel joke.
What did he talk about at dinner before his father died? Somehow, he couldn't really remember. That was one of the many ways in which Reki had been a godsend - Reki gave him a life, which gave him something to tell his mother about. Not that she could know about everything, of course. S was illegal, after all, and Langa was always nervous to say too much about Reki to his mother, because she'd get this look on her face like-
"Hey, space cadet," Reki said, leaning over from his stool beside Langa's and bumping their shoulders together. "Did I lose you again? Were you listening?"
Langa blinks like he's just stepped from a dark movie theater into daylight and glances from Reki, to the magazine open on the workbench in front of them, and back again, looking for context clues, but Reki sees him do it and heaves a sigh before Langa has a chance to try and guess what he's missed. "Sorry."
"It's alright, I was just geeking out like usual," Reki said, scratching the back of his neck. "I can see where it would get boring to listen to."
"It's not like that," Langa said.
Reki gives no acknowledgement, only leans a little closer into Langa's space and looks at him with his brows knit slightly together. "Are you doing okay? You seem out of it."
"You always say I seem out of it," Langa said.
"Yeah, but... usually, you're at least looking at me when I lose you. Lately you just kinda stare into the distance sometimes."
Langa swallowed thickly, focusing on keeping his expression impassive. It was an accurate summation: just the other day, Langa had gotten distracted watching Reki's eyelashes - they were the color of flames when the sun shone through them - and gotten called out just like now. He hadn't explained himself then, either.
"So really. What's going on with you?" Reki asked again when Langa didn't respond.
"I... haven't been sleeping very well lately," Langa said carefully. It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't all of the truth. "I guess it's affecting me worse than I thought."
Even though it wasn't a lie, guilt squeezed his stomach as Reki's eyes searched his. Langa struggled to hold his gaze, but he knew he had to, or Reki would know something was up and keep asking him about it. Truthfully, though, it was always hard to lock eyes with Reki like this. Although he always loathed to look away, Langa could only withstand Reki's gaze for a few moments at a time before he felt too vulnerable to continue. He wanted to keep looking, could look into Reki's eyes all day if only it weren't for the fact his eyes would be looking at him, too.
Langa realizes he's gotten lost in his thoughts again when Reki pokes him right between the eyebrows. What had he just said? Something about how he usually passed out any time, anywhere, he thinks. He sounded surprised, so that was probably right. "You did it again. What were you thinking about?"
"Maybe if I had... sunglasses," Langa murmurs.
"Non-sequitor much?" Reki says, raising an eyebrow. He pulls his hand back to brush Langa's hair aside and lays his palm across his forehead. "You got a fever or something?"
Langa focuses on keeping his head perfectly still, on not leaning into the touch. Then, the other part of him, the part of him that loves the thrill of taking a risk, takes over: he reaches his hand up and lays it on top of Reki's. He shakes his head against their hands, and for just a moment, imagines that Reki is petting him, not just asking him why he's acting weird. He hadn't been conscious of his hands being cold, but now his fingertips feel icy by contrast where they soak up the heat from Reki's skin. "You feel way warmer than me, see?"
Reki rolls his eyes. When Langa takes his hand off of his, Reki swivels his wrist and then pushes his hand up into Langa's hair, each finger combing a part along his scalp, and gives it a halfhearted ruffle. "Well, you're a cold blooded Canadian, so you'd probably feel cold even if you did have a fever."
Langa can't vouch for the temperature of his blood, but he can still hear it rushing in his ears, will probably keep hearing it until his scalp stops tingling everywhere Reki touched. "You make it sound like I'm a reptile."
Reki grins. "I call 'em like I see 'em."
——
The next day, Reki is sure that something is going on with Langa.
He wasn't the easiest person to read, but Reki had been seeing Langa zone out with increasing frequency the past couple weeks. A couple times, Reki had even questioned his thousand-yard stare, but Langa always seemed confused and said he hadn’t been looking at anything.
Langa had been especially quiet today, but what really convinced Reki that something was wrong was how he skated. He could tell his heart wasn't in it. He wasn't getting nearly as much air as usual and seemed distracted; the third time Langa bailed, Reki finally said maybe they should call it quits for the day. Langa didn't say anything, or even look up from where he still sat on the concrete. All he did was nod, holding his hand to his chest as he tried to catch his breath again after falling flat on his back. Reki could see tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, but he didn't know if they were born of pain, or frustration, or something else entirely.
They walked back to Reki's house in silence. When they made it to his room, Reki heaved a sigh as he set his bag down and turned to look at Langa, crossing his arms. "Are you really gonna make me ask you again what's going on with you?"
Langa blinked at him. "Huh?"
Reki sighed again and sat down on the floor in front of his bed, patting the ground beside him so Langa would join him. "I'm not totally oblivious, you know. I can tell you haven't been yourself lately." It was silent except for the distant hum of a washing machine and the cartoon Reki's sisters were watching down the hall. "You can talk to me."
Langa seems to consider this, keeping his eyes fixed on his hands folded in his lap. "It was a year ago today," he said. "That my father died."
Reki can't quite hold back a small gasp. "Why didn't you say something?”
Langa turns and blinks at him again. "What would I say?" Reki looks at him like he has two heads, so he continues, looking back to his hands. "I didn't want to be depressing. And it's a perfectly nice day, so it would've been a shame not to skate."
"A perfectly nice day?" Reki says, confusion written on his face. "But you just said today is..."
"Well... I meant, to you it’s a perfectly nice day. Or just another day, at least. It was, at least, until I brought you down.”
Langa looks smaller than usual somehow, face cast down towards his lap, his hair obscuring his expression. Reki wants to grab him and shake him, but settles for rapping his knuckles gently on the top of Langa's head. "You're really an airhead sometimes, you know that?" He still can't see Langa's expression through his hair, so without giving it much thought, he reaches over and tucks it behind his ear. "It's never gonna be just another day to me when you're walking around looking all... Sad."
"Sorry," Langa says, in English, in his funny accent, and Reki can't help but smile.
"It's alright," Reki said. "So... I guess this isn't the kind of thing where you'd want someone to try and cheer you up, huh?"
Langa let out the ghost of a laugh. “No, I don't think it works like that." He chooses not to add that if anyone had a chance at that, it would be Reki.
"Didn't think so..." Reki said, shifting in his seat. He felt out of his depth here, and it frustrated him. "D'you... wanna talk about it?"
Langa didn't answer.
"You don't have to if it's just gonna bum you out more, but... When you were learning to skate, I always patched you up when you were hurting. I know I can't do that for something like this, but... that doesn't mean you need to face everything alone, either."
Reki was about to give up and let it go when Langa finally spoke.
"Earlier, when I fell, I got the wind knocked out of me," he said, holding his chest again as if recalling the feeling. "It's happened to me plenty of times before, but... today, I just thought, 'is this what it feels like to die?' I wondered if that's... what he felt, when he..."
The sound of Langa's voice breaking made Reki's heart ache. As an older brother, Reki wasn't a complete novice when it came to comforting people, and the instinct to reach over and wrap his arms around Langa felt as natural as muscle memory. For his little sisters, though, just about anything they cried over could be solved with a hug or an ice cream sandwich. He knew that what Langa was going through was in a whole other league, but he didn't seem to mind Reki pulling him closer, so Reki took that as assurance that even if he didn’t know how to help, he at least wasn’t making it worse.
It wasn't the first time Reki had hugged him - far from it. Reki was a pretty affectionate guy, but usually, he only hugged him when he was really excited, or joking around. He had never held him just to hold him, and Langa wishes it was happening some other way, some way he could actually enjoy.
He leaned his forehead onto Reki's shoulder, crying so quietly that the only way Reki was sure it was happening was the way he trembled lightly in his arms. Reki had no doubt that Langa had practiced this, trained himself to cry in silence, in secret. The thought put a lump in his own throat, but he choked it down, skimming his hands up and down Langa's back in a way he hoped was soothing until his shaking slowed to a stop.
"S-Sorry. I guess I just needed to let that out," Langa mumbles, pulling away and wiping his eyes hastily with the backs of his hands, trying to regain his composure. He grimaces when he sees Reki watching him, but Reki doesn't seem to notice. "What? If you're gonna say I have an ugly cry face or something, just say it."
Reki didn't think Langa had an ugly cry face. In fact, his eyes looked impossibly bluer when rimmed with pink, which is what had pulled Reki into his reverie to begin with, and now, embarrassed by Reki's scrutiny and the sight of the tears and snot he left on his shoulder, his face had flushed to match. "I wasn't gonna say that, dummy. Anyway, don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."
Langa only lets out a small grunt in response and tilts his head back, letting it fall on the edge of the bed, eyes closed. "Man, my head hurts, now."
"Sorry," Reki said, reaching over and combing his fingers through Langa's hair. He'd done it without thinking, but just as it dawned on him to worry that he was making him uncomfortable, Langa leans into the touch, even lets out an appreciative hum as the callused pads of Reki's fingertips graze against his scalp. Reki's stomach flips. "Dude, did you just purr? Maybe you've been spending too much time with Miya."
"Shut up," Langa says half-heartedly, eyes still shut.
Reki smiles, still smoothing his hair back rhythmically. Langa looks more peaceful than he has in days, like he'll drift off any moment. "You wanna just take a nap?"
Langa opens one eye and looks at him. "Huh? Here?"
"Well, not here-here, you'd get a crick in your neck. I meant you could get in my bed. I'd wake you up when it's time to go home."
Langa sits up straighter a bit abruptly; he isn't exactly sure why, if the feeling of Reki's hand on his head was just too much to cope with in that moment, or if he was just desperate to make his hair fall back into place and hide the heat rising to his cheeks again.
"O-or I guess you could use the floor if you'd rather," Reki said, scratching the back of his neck. "You just, you said you hadn't been sleeping well, and crying takes a lot out of you, my sisters usually pass out for a while after they cry, so-"
"I'm not a little kid," Langa grumbled.
"Sorry! I know, I know,” Reki said, holding his hands up defensively. "It's just... I know how to take care of little kids. I don't know how to take care of you... but I'm trying."
For the second time that day, Langa couldn't breathe, but he was sure dying felt nothing like this. This felt way too good to feel like dying, and if anything, it felt like there was too much air in his lungs, not too little.
"Well, what about food, then?" Reki said, standing up and walking towards the door. "Lemme see what's in the kitchen."
"Reki."
Reki paused in the doorway, turning back to look at him. "Yeah?"
Langa swallowed, his eyes shifting around the room nervously for a moment before meeting Reki's. "You're doing fine," he said, then continued in a mumble: "Taking... taking care of me."
"I'm glad," Reki said, then slid the door shut behind him, keeping Langa safe from any prying eyes that may pass by. He returned a few minutes later with an armful of snacks and handed Langa a bottle of water and a bottle of painkillers. "Here, you said you have a headache, right?"
"Oh... yeah, thanks," Langa says, taking them from him. He had gotten up off the floor while Reki was in the kitchen and was sitting on the foot of the bed, weighing his options. "Is it really okay for me to just sleep? What will you do?"
"Yeah, it's cool, I've got stuff to work on," Reki said, pulling a large sketchbook from his bag. He's taken his seat in front of the bed from before. "You don't need to keep me entertained in my own house."
"Well, if I'm just going to sleep, I could just go do that at home.”
"You could if you want," Reki said lightly, knowing he didn’t, his pencil scratching at the paper already.
Langa took one of the aspirin and washed it down with a long drink of water, then chewed his lip. Reki really did seem content, and the idea of sleeping in his bed held obvious appeal. "But I feel like... I'd sleep better here."
Reki doesn't say anything at first, or turn around to look, as Langa hesitantly lays down behind him, but Langa is sure that the very set of his shoulders is exuding smugness somehow. When he does look over his shoulder at him, though, his eyes are soft. "How come?"
Langa closes his eyes. The blankets and the pillow smell like Reki, feel like Reki - and Reki himself is right there, close enough to reach out and touch, close enough for Langa to watch his chest rise and fall as he breathes. "It feels safe here."
Reki smiles and goes back to drawing. A few moments pass, and Langa says, as if to give one last warning, "I really am gonna fall asleep."
"Okay," Reki says. "I'll be here."
Langa smiles against Reki's pillow and closes his eyes. "I know."