Archive of Our Own

The dreams start before anything else does.

When he closes his eyes, he’s there again, Adam's body up against his, hands gripping Reki's wrist so tightly that it burns. His legs are trembling where Adam has him pinned to the board, heart beating so quickly that it feels like it’s going to give out. Adam smells of sweat and cigarette smoke and something else that Reki can’t name. It’s strong, and it’s disgusting, and Reki can smell it—

He shoots upward in bed, gasping for air, skin prickling with a cold sweat that is entirely too uncomfortable. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s not at S—he’s at home, by himself. The sudden change in setting is so disorienting and overwhelming that he finds himself getting dizzy.

“Fuck,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing a hand to his forehead in a desperate attempt to steady himself. He waits for the room to stop spinning and glances down at his right wrist, examining it closely. He can still feel Adam’s fingers clutching it like a vice, licking around his arm like an open flame and burning him from the inside out.

—

Reki never slept well, even before it happened.

He was always either too hot or too cold, sheets scratching against his legs in a way that made his skin crawl, hands twitching at his sides out of restlessness. His mind would never stop racing at night, operating at a speed that bordered on painful. He’d start thinking about things and just couldn’t stop; and a lot of the time, it was stuff he really didn’t want to think about. But he’d find himself fixating on them anyway, ruminating on the intrusive thoughts and picking his brain apart until something within him was satisfied. It was so unbelievably frustrating, because his body was so damn tired but his brain just wouldn’t give him a break.

When he found S, nights started to get easier. He could physically tire himself out to the point that he’d fall asleep just minutes after collapsing in bed. It was just a plus that he loved to skate, and it gave him something to keep his mind occupied for a long period of time. He couldn’t focus on much, but skating was something he could think about for hours.

(And after he met Langa, he started sleeping even better. But he’s a little scared to think about why that is.)

But then he meets Adam. Reki challenges him to a beef, and everything falls apart.

—

The thing about the dreams is that they’re so real. When he’s in them, he loses all concept of where he is or what day it is. It’s just him and Adam, racing down the track at S at such a high speed that the gravel pelting his cheeks feels like needles against his skin. Adam’s always looking down at him with that crooked smile, eyes dark and empty behind his mask. He looks at Reki like he wants to hurt him, to send him flying off his board and leave him for dead. And he does. Every time.

Living through it once was bad enough, clearly, but having to experience it over and over again has to be a special kind of torture. It’s just a dream, he tries to tell himself after waking up, and the rational part of him knows it’s the truth. But that doesn’t stop it from feeling so real.

He always wakes up breathing heavy like he does after skating; he wakes up consumed by the same paralyzing terror that he felt while racing with Adam; he wakes up with pain shooting through his broken arm, and maybe the pain isn’t real, but he still feels it all.

So what’s real, and what isn’t?

Reki has no fucking clue, and it’s not like he has the energy to try and figure it all out—all of the sleepless nights have left him more exhausted than he’s ever been in his life. But he’d much rather be sleepy all the time than have to relive that beef even just one more time. So he starts avoiding sleep on nights when he’s anxious about it.

The tough part about being awake and, you know, having coherent thoughts, is that he can’t stop thinking about Langa, and it sucks. He might honestly be more upset about the Langa thing than he is about the beef with Adam. Langa was his best friend, if not maybe something more than that. He meant the fucking world to Reki, and still does. It just sucks that he’d prioritize skating with some creepy old dude over Reki’s feelings, you know?

Reki spends a lot of time feeling kind of betrayed, even though he knows he shouldn’t. Realistically, he knows Langa was excited to skate with someone new, to prove himself in front of the other skaters at S. But the anxious part of his brain shoots questions at him like rapidfire: why would Langa want to skate with Adam after seeing what he did to Reki? Why would he want to skate with him after Reki specifically asked him not to? Does Langa even care about him?

And immediately afterwards, like clockwork, he beats himself up about it: It’s your fault. You were holding him back by not wanting him to skate with Adam. You’re selfish and Langa deserves better. No wonder he would rather skate with someone else.

His thoughts just keep spiraling, and he doesn’t know how to get them to stop. Even after they make up and start skating together again, the betrayal is always nagging at the back of his mind, and he fucking hates himself for it.

—

Really, it was only a matter of time before his dreams started to replace himself with Langa.

(Langa, looking terrified as Adam presses into his space. Langa, flying off his board and screaming. Langa, crumpling in a heap on the ground, unmoving.)

It’s infinitely more upsetting than the dreams about himself—which is saying a lot, considering that the dreams where he relives the beef are already so distressing that he regularly loses sleep over them. But there’s something even worse about seeing Langa hurt, seeing Langa scared, hearing Langa scream in pain and not being able to do anything about it.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the dreams get even worse when they start happening during the day.

Reki really thought he’d be safe when he’s, you know, awake. Nights were bad, with the nightmares and the flashbacks and all that, but nothing had ever happened while the sun was out.

Unfortunately, because the universe wants Kyan Reki to suffer, there’s a first time for everything.

They’re sitting in class one day, and everything’s fine. Reki is doodling skateboard designs in his notebook, daydreaming about what he’s going to eat for lunch later that day while their teacher drones on about something he couldn’t care less about. Langa’s sitting next to him, zoned out with his chin propped up on his hand, and everything’s normal. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.

But then Reki blinks and he isn’t there anymore.

He’s gone, he’s not at school, he’s at S, and all he can see is Langa’s body thudding onto the dirt path, his skin pale and cold and lifeless.

He has no clue he’s screamed Langa’s name until he blinks again and he’s on his feet and his entire class is staring at him. His breaths are coming in shudders and he feels tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he frantically turns to his right. Langa’s alive, thankfully, sitting straight up at his desk and staring up at Reki with wide eyes. He’s fine. Maybe a little bit embarrassed if his flushed cheeks are anything to go by, but he’s okay.

The relief that washes over Reki is so intense that he almost feels faint. And then the embarrassment rushes over him just as quickly, and he trips over his own feet in his haste to get the fuck out of his classroom.

—

A few weeks later, on a Monday night, things get bad enough for him to finally cave in and text Langa.

It’s been happening more and more frequently—nights spent avoiding sleep out of the fear of nightmares, staring at his bedroom wall with the same anxious thoughts streaming through his head like a shitty playlist stuck on repeat. It happens a lot, but for some reason, it never gets any easier.

Some nights are worse than others, and this one is pretty fucking bad.

Up until now, he’s made it a point to not tell Langa about any of it. They’re finally in a good place again, and Reki absolutely does not want to take any chance of fucking it up. They haven’t really talked about the Adam thing, delicately skirting around it in conversation and opting to talk about happier things instead.

Which is fine, but the thing is, Reki’s at his breaking point. The stress and fear and anxiety and pain is way too much for him and he’s fucking clueless as to what to do about it. But he knows that he can’t do it alone. He just wants someone with him, and Langa, unfortunately, happens to be the only person he can trust with any of this.

I need you, he types with shaky fingers, sending the text before he can talk himself out of it.

Realistically, he knows Langa will be there within minutes, because Langa is predictable like that, in moments when it counts. But even still, as Reki sits alone in his room, fingers clutching his phone so tightly that his knuckles turn white, panic builds inside of him so densely that he almost chokes on it. Because what if Langa doesn’t come, what if Langa thinks he’s weak for needing help, what if Langa gets hurt on the way over, what if Reki has to do this alone—

But Langa shows up, because of course he does, bursting into Reki’s room with a board under his arm and panic scattered across his face. Reki knows he should be relieved to see him, and maybe he is, but he also feels overwhelmingly irritated with himself. I stressed myself out for nothing, of course he was going to come, I had nothing to worry about, I’m so fucking stupid—

Langa drops his board to the ground—the resulting clatter against the floor is so startling that Reki flinches—and sits down gingerly on the bed beside him, one leg curled up beneath him and the other hanging off the edge. His movements are cautious, almost timid, like he doesn’t know how to act around him, and it hits Reki like a knife to the heart.

“What happened?” Langa asks, as softly as he can. The moonlight bounces off his hair and he glows, like some kind of angel that Reki doesn’t deserve.

Reki is so deep into his head that he doesn’t realize he’s sobbing, breaths coming in shudders that rack his whole body, limbs trembling and eyes stinging. All of a sudden, he wants Langa to know about everything—the thoughts, the dreams, the pain that won’t seem to go away. But all that comes out is “please don’t leave me,” in a voice that is frighteningly small and dangerously unlike him.

“Reki,” Langa breathes, reaching out to pull him against his chest and smooth his hands over Reki’s hair. The way he touches him is delicate, as if Reki is fragile and on the verge of shattering.

It’s almost comical, for Langa to think that his touch could be any more devastating than what’s happening in Reki’s head.

“I’m here. I won’t leave you, I promise,” Langa says.

This should appease him, he knows that, but Reki’s brain decides to torture him anyway, planting ideas in his head that he doesn’t know how to run away from. That Langa’s lying to him, that his words don’t mean anything, that he’ll leave and pick Adam, again. The thoughts swirl around in his head, spinning more and more frantically with every passing second, tripping over themselves in a way that makes Reki want to vomit.

“Where is this coming from?” Langa’s lips brush against Reki’s hair as he speaks. Reki grips onto Langa’s t-shirt like a lifeline, his tears soaking into the fabric and weaving through the seams. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Reki wants to, because god knows he doesn’t want to be alone in this, but his body won’t let him get the words out. There’s a weight settling over him, strangling him and forcing him into silence. He just curls up even tighter in Langa’s arms, trying to ground himself in the feeling of Langa’s hand rubbing gentle circles in his back. “Don’t leave,” he manages to say, and immediately wishes he didn’t. You sound like a broken record, Langa’s going to get sick of you—

“Not gonna leave you.” Langa pulls back a little and looks down at Reki. “Do you want to lay down? Maybe getting some rest would help?”

The thought of slipping into his own subconscious, of getting stuck in that dark place with Adam’s hand wrapped around his wrist and gravel whipping through his hair, is so terrifying that Reki gasps, his breaths speeding up and leaving him lightheaded.

“You’re hyperventilating,” Langa tells him. It almost sounds like he’s fighting to keep his voice steady, though Reki can’t imagine why. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Reki barely hears him. His mind’s eye is flooded with images of Langa hurt, tortured, dying, and how the hell is he supposed to focus on deep breathing when his best friend is dying in front of him? “Oh my god,” he says out loud, involuntarily, as he watches Langa fall off his board, face colorless and unmoving, Adam standing over him with his twisted smirk and blood red eyes.

The real Langa is saying something; it could be anything, Reki wouldn’t know. It isn’t until he puts two fingers under Reki’s chin and tilts his head upwards that Reki realizes where he is. “Breathe,” Langa tells him, looking him dead in the eyes. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Reki nods, shakily, and attempts a deep breath. It doesn’t really work out. The air gets caught in his throat and then escapes in a shudder, causing his entire body to tremble. “Good,” Langa says anyway. “Can you do it again?”

He does, because, well, who is he to refuse Langa anything?

“You’re doing well,” Langa says after Reki’s third breath, slowly tracing his fingers through cherry red hair. “I’m proud of you.”

Reki closes his eyes and tries to focus on the feeling of Langa’s light touches on his scalp. Thankfully, his hands stop trembling and his pulse starts to slow down. Langa’s arms tug him even closer, close enough for Reki to hear the way Langa’s heartbeat is thundering in his chest. “How do you feel?” asks Langa. “Any better?”

Reki nods, raising a hand to brush away the tears staining his cheeks. “You’re good at this,” he comments offhandedly. His voice is still shaky, but the words come easier as his breathing evens out. “The whole comforting people thing. S’nice.”

He feels Langa smile where his face is pressed against the top of Reki’s head. “I had to do counseling with my mom after my dad died,” he tells him. “My mom would get really bad panic attacks. She still does, sometimes. The therapist taught me some basic tools to help my mom out when she starts to panic.”

“Is this what a panic attack is?”

“I mean, I’m not an expert, but it seems like it. I don’t know.” He pulls away from Reki to look at him, pale blue eyes scanning his face. Reki doesn’t miss the way Langa’s gaze lingers on his lips for a beat longer than it should. “Want to tell me what happened?” Langa asks gently.

“I do,” says Reki, but he knows it isn’t going to be that simple. “I want to. It’s just… a lot.”

Langa’s quiet for a moment. “Does it have anything to do with me?”

Reki freezes in his spot on Langa’s lap. “Uh,” he says eloquently, scrambling for a way to explain. It absolutely does have something to do with him, and he doesn’t want to hurt Langa’s feelings by telling him that. But he also can’t think of a good way to sugarcoat it or talk around it. He can’t just say oh yeah, I can’t stop having nightmares about that fucker who terrorized me and broke my arm, I can’t sleep at night because I’m so terrified of having dreams about him hurting you, and when I’m awake, I’m constantly worrying about the possibility of you choosing him over me again, because you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I care about you so much that it scares the shit out of me, I can’t lose you, I think it might kill me—

Langa apparently interprets Reki’s silence as a resounding yes to his question. “Oh,” he says, looking dejected. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Reki flops onto his back and lets his head sink into his pillow, staring at the ceiling to avoid having to look at Langa. His voice is still trembling and his skin is stinging with anxiety, but he makes himself talk, because he figures that he owes Langa at least that much. “You didn’t do anything. It’s just – it’s the stuff with Adam, I still have dreams about it, and I think about it a lot, even when I don’t want to. I think about the beef I had with him and how fucking horrifying it was, and it’s like I can’t stop thinking about it, you know? And then I think about how you skated with him anyway, even though you knew how badly he hurt me and how scared I was. I know this is all in the past now, and I don’t blame you for any of it – seriously, I mean that. But it’s like I can’t stop my brain from being scared that you’ll leave me again, you know?”

He stops and takes a breath, noticing the way his heart is furiously pounding against his ribcage again. “God, fuck, I shouldn’t have told you that. Shit. I don’t wanna guilt you into staying friends with me, or make you feel obligated to hang out with me, or anything like that. I just… I just don’t wanna lose you, that’s all. Thinking about not having you in my life scares me so fucking bad, and I know that’s so selfish of me, but I just… fuck, I can’t just make myself stop being anxious, you know?”

Reki presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I just keep going in circles with myself, and it works me up so much, and I just can’t stop thinking. It’s worse at night, when I’m alone, and when I know I’m gonna fall asleep and get stuck in a nightmare.” He sighs. “It sounds so stupid, I know. If I knew how to stop being nervous about all of this, I would. I know it’s not fair to you. I’m so sorry I’m making you deal with all of this.”

He’d be so much better off without you, Reki’s brain informs him cruelly, and the thought is so overwhelming that he feels his heart skip a beat.

Langa crawls up the bed to lay on his side next to Reki, propping himself up on an elbow and looking down at him. “Remember what I said to you the other day?” he says quietly. “About how I want to skate with you infinitely?”

“Yeah...but that was about skateboarding—”

“No,” Langa says firmly. “Well, I mean, yeah, it was. But it was about life, too. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Reki. When we weren’t talking, it felt like I was… I don’t know, missing a limb, or something. I know everything that happened was my fault, and you had every right to distance yourself from me, so don’t apologize, okay? But even just the possibility of losing you was devastating. There’s nothing I want to do if I can’t have you by my side. And there’s nothing I’d let you go through alone.”

Reki holds his breath, eyes still trained on the ceiling.

“I messed up bad, Reki,” Langa continues, miserably. “Everything I did to you was so shitty, and I’m so sorry. I want to make up for all of the pain that I caused. Not because I feel obligated to, but because I want to. I care about you, and I don’t wanna see you like this. I don’t ever want to see you hurt. And especially not because of me.”

“It’s fine,” says Reki, because he feels like he needs to say something. “I know you didn’t mean it. And it’s not like I wasn’t an asshole to you too.”

He hears Langa sigh. “I want you to know that I care about you. I’ll tell you how much I care about you every day, if that’s what you need. I’m not gonna just get up and leave you, okay? I’ll never hurt you like that again. I was so stupid, and I don’t deserve you, but I don’t want to lose you either. You’re too important to me.”

Reki feels a blush spread across his cheeks and he puts his hands over his face to shield it from Langa’s view. “Stop, you’re such a sap,” he groans, but he’s hiding a smile behind his hands. There’s no way he can ignore the way Langa’s words warm him up from the inside out, the way they soften the constant anxious buzzing in his head.

“I’m here,” Langa tells him, “for as long as you’ll have me. In any way that you want me.”

Reki freezes, mind racing with the implications of that statement, and then pulls his hands away from his face, finally turning to look at Langa. His silvery hair is swept to one side of his face, falling into his eyes and catching the moonlight that streams through Reki’s window. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks and his eyes are glassy, sparkling in a way that Reki’s never seen before.

“I don’t think I can ever fully understand what you’re going through,” Langa says quietly. “But I want to try, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Reki whispers, blindly reaching out for Langa’s hand and grabbing onto it like a lifeline.

“Listen,” says Langa, his thumb brushing over Reki’s knuckles like it’s something they do every day. “I won’t let you do this alone. You and me, we’re gonna get through it together. I mean it.”

Reki’s gaze shifts to a loose thread on his blanket, pulling at it listlessly. He knows he shouldn’t but he feels so guilty, and it’s eating him alive. He knows he’s responsible for this extra weight that he’s putting on Langa’s conscience, and he hates himself for it. “I don't want to be a burden, you know? You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“I’m not doing anything for you, Reki. I’m doing it with you,” he replies simply, like it’s nothing, and Reki’s heart splinters.

He looks over at Langa again. Reki’s mouth falls open, like he’s about to speak, but he can’t make any words come out. No one’s ever said anything like that to him before; no one’s ever been so willing to stand by his side without question. The words simultaneously break his heart and piece it back together, all in the same breath, and he can’t think of a damn thing to say in return. He’s so fucking speechless, and it’s a brand new feeling for him. Langa is the only person who’s ever been able to leave him at a loss for words like this. The things he says are like magic, Reki swears, with the way he takes Reki’s breath away and makes his head spin.

Langa frowns a little and brushes his hand through Reki’s hair, gently sliding his headband off and tossing it to the floor. The movement is casual, like they do this every day—and they absolutely do not. Reki’s heart is in his throat. “Is that okay?” Langa asks him quietly, and it takes a second for Reki to remember what the hell they were even talking about.

“Yeah.” He pauses, chewing on his bottom lip as he thinks. “But you don’t have to do this, you know. You didn’t sign up for this. You shouldn’t have to put up with all of my shit.”

“I want to,” says Langa without hesitation.

“But…why?”

Langa’s gaze falters, eyes landing on where his board is lying on the floor. “Uh,” he starts. Reki can practically see the wheels turning in his brain, desperately trying to figure out what to say. “You...ah…” Langa squeezes his eyes shut. “You mean a lot to me,” he forces out, like it’s the most painful thing he’s ever had to say. Reki would have snorted if he wasn’t on the edge of throwing up out of nervousness.

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?” Reki murmurs. And, oh god, he doesn’t mean to word it that way—he just wanted Langa to elaborate a little bit—fuck, why’d he have to make it sound like he wanted Langa to confess to him? His cheeks flush, and he kind of wants to crawl under his covers and never come out again. But he clamps his mouth shut before he can take it back, wincing as he looks at Langa and waits for him to open his eyes.

Langa lets out a laugh; it’s short and humorless. “Yeah, it’s more than that,” he replies hollowly. He sounds ashamed, in a way, and it breaks Reki’s heart a little bit.

Reki’s leg starts to bounce, and his entire body is practically vibrating—from anticipation, maybe, or maybe just nervousness. “You don’t have to tell me,” he starts to backtrack, not wanting to force Langa into saying anything he doesn't want to. “S’okay. Really.”

“No. I want you to know this.” He finally opens his eyes and looks at Reki, the intensity of his ice blue gaze burning a hole into him. “I like you,” he says hesitantly, a blush spreading across his face. He visibly relaxes as soon as he gets the words out. “I probably love you, actually,” he adds, like it’s nothing.

It’s weird, because Reki kind of knew this conversation would be coming sooner or later, but he still finds his jaw dropping out of shock. His eyes trace the contours of Langa’s face, searching for any evidence that this is some kind of a sick joke, because how could someone like Langa ever love someone like Reki? But Langa looks as serious as he’s ever been, staring down at Reki with a hint of anxiety in his eyes.

On instinct, Reki reaches out and cups Langa’s face, letting his thumbs brush over Langa’s cheekbones. They’re close—so close that Reki can feel Langa’s tiny puffs of breath against his mouth. Reki lets his eyes flicker from Langa’s lips to his eyes, watching the way Langa’s eyelashes flutter under Reki’s gaze. “I probably love you, too,” he tells him quietly, and he can’t stop himself from smiling as he tilts his head and kisses him.

Their lips slot together like they were made for each other, and it's miles better than anything Reki had ever imagined. Langa kisses him slowly, sweetly, pouring his feelings into his movements. It’s a confession and an apology and a promise, all at once. Reki doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything like it in his life.

Langa’s hands find Reki’s hips, pulling him closer until they’re flush together. Reki lets his hands snake into Langa’s hair, silky blue strands slipping through his fingers like water. He feels Langa’s tongue sliding against his bottom lip and gasps—it’s unexpected and weird, but definitely not unpleasant—and Langa takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, letting out a soft sound when Reki’s tongue brushes against his own. His hand drifts to the small of Reki’s back, letting the weight of it comfort and reassure him. Reki melts into him, letting one of his hands slide to the back of Langa’s neck and pull him even closer.

Langa kisses him with the same passion he has when he skates, fearless and uninhibited and intense, and Reki matches him as best as he can. They lose themselves in each other, their lips aligning in a way that has their hearts beating faster, bodies moving together in perfect sync.

Reki would do this forever, if he could. His mind is quiet for once, and he feels safe for the first time in a long while. Langa’s touch is almost hypnotic, enthralling and mesmerizing in a way that makes Reki’s head spin, and Reki thinks he could get addicted to it, if he lets himself.

Unfortunately, he has to breathe, and it takes every ounce of his self control to put his hands on Langa’s shoulders and push away from him gently. He opens his eyes, inhaling sharply at the sight of Langa’s flushed face, kiss-swollen lips, and tousled hair. “God, you’re pretty,” he voices without meaning to, the thought escaping from the depths of his useless gay brain.

“You’re perfect,” replies Langa, breathlessly, eyes lidded and pupils blown as he stares at Reki like he hung the moon.

Reki blushes. “So are you,” he tells him, letting his hand find Langa’s and threading their fingers together. He presses one more quick kiss to Langa’s lips, reveling in the feeling of Langa smiling against his mouth. Reki hasn’t felt this content or at peace in months, and all of a sudden he finds himself grasping at straws for a way to keep this moment from ending. “Don’t leave,” he whispers without thinking, familiar anxiety starting to grow in the pit of his stomach.

“I got you,” Langa murmurs, kissing Reki’s forehead and laying down so that Reki can curl into his chest. He tugs Reki’s blankets over them before wrapping his arms around him, holding Reki tight. “You ever need me, I’m here for you, always. I’m not gonna leave you alone if you need me.”

Reki lets his eyes close, listening to Langa’s steady heartbeat and breathing in the faint scent of soap and laundry detergent and spearmint toothpaste. “I’m here for you too,” he murmurs, finally letting himself relax. “Infinitely.”

—

The next night, as Reki’s turning off the lights and climbing into bed, his phone vibrates with a text.

Langa: remember how i said i’d tell you how much i care about you every day if that’s what you needed to hear
Reki: ohh my god langa u don’t actually have to do that
Langa: no, i want to. anyways here’s your daily reminder
Langa: you’re my best friend, you’re my teacher, you’re my rock. you mean so much to me that i don’t even know how to put it into words. especially not in japanese. but that’s my own fault
Langa: i love you a lot and i'm lucky to have you in my life
Langa: i hope you get some sleep tonight, call me if you need anything ok?
Langa: love you

For the first time in weeks, Reki goes to bed smiling.