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i. langa
Anyone who has known Reki for more than a few minutes knows that he fidgets.
A lot.
And anyone who has befriended Reki will know that he forgets to bring his actual fidget toys with him.
A lot.
He has plenty! He has an assortment of stress balls, three different Rubik’s Cubes, too many mini skateboards to count, and a handful of other various fidget toys that he’s collected over the years.
He just. Forgets to stick any in his backpack.
And when he forgets to bring a fidget toy, he’ll fidget with other things. Sometimes, it’s harmless - doodling in notebooks, twirling pencils or pens, picking at threads on his jacket, messing with earring backs. Sometimes, it’s not ideal, but it isn’t causing any direct harm if it doesn’t go on for too long - chewing on pencils, biting his nails.
And sometimes it’s digging at his arms and legs, picking at scabs that have been trying to heal for months. Or tugging at his hair until it hurts. Or chewing on his lip until it bleeds.
Which is why Langa takes it upon himself to help out a bit.
Just a bit!
Langa doesn’t want to make Reki feel like he thinks he can’t take care of himself; he just wants to help out when Reki’s completely spaced bringing a fidget toy with him.
The idea comes after Reki leaves one night, and Langa comes back to his room to see that Reki left the Rubik’s Cube he brought with on Langa’s desk. He doesn’t bother texting Reki about it - they’ll see each other at school tomorrow and he can return it then.
He picks up the Rubik’s Cube and just looks at it for a minute. It’s Langa’s favorite of Reki’s three - the one that has the smoothing rotations, and instead of colored stickers on each square, it’s been made with colored plastic.
He twists it around for a minute, thinking.
Obviously he needs to give Reki this one back, but…
But what if he got something else - not necessarily a Rubik’s Cube; just any fidget toy - to keep in his own backpack, for when Reki forgets his?
--
It was supposed to be just one fidget toy.
But then he sees a cheap two-pack of mini skateboards that are red and blue and he knows he has to get those. And then he sees a stress ball shaped like an ice cream cone. And then some sort of marble maze thing, and then a little squishy red bear and then--
Okay. So he gets more than one.
But, he figures that means he can keep a couple in his backpack and a couple in his bedroom and maybe one in his jacket pocket. That way he’ll have one whenever and wherever Reki needs it!
It’s a perfect solution, really.
And a perfect defense that isn’t Hey I’m buying seven different fidget toys just so the guy I maybe sort of have a crush on can borrow one from me whenever he needs and also maybe that’ll make him like me back--
Anyways.
It’s logical.
And it means Langa (hopefully) won’t forget the fidget toys like Reki does.
No other reason.
(Obviously.)
--
They’re in math class and Reki is picking at a scab on his elbow.
Langa doesn’t catch it right away - he’s trying to take notes instead of staring longingly at his best friend, or getting in trouble for whispering about S with him. Again.
But when he glances over at Reki out of the corner of his eye after the teacher’s unsuccessful attempt at “referencing a meme”, he notices Reki was too caught up in something to even hear what their teacher had just said.
He’s rocking back and forth in his seat, which is normal and Langa would be more concerned if he weren’t. But he’s also got his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he looks at his elbow, picking at what Langa can only assume is the scabbing scrape from where he skinned it last week.
“Reki,” Langa whispers.
Reki doesn’t answer.
“Reki,” he tries again, slightly louder this time.
When he still doesn’t look up, Langa sighs. He leans over and digs through his backpack until he finds what he’s looking for: the ice cream stress ball.
Wordlessly, he pokes Reki’s arm with it, so Reki will actually look up and see him, and then he places it on Reki’s desk.
Reki raises an eyebrow at him.
“Stop picking at your elbow,” Langa whispers.
Reki looks down at the stress ball, then back up at Langa, then down at the stress ball again. Slowly, he reaches forward and picks it up.
He turns back to Langa, a soft smile on his face. He mouths, Thank you, and Langa feels like the luckiest person in the world just to be able to see that expression on Reki’s face.
(Okay yeah. He’s got it bad.)
(But for some reason, he feels content with that.)
ii. miya
Miya doesn’t worry about anyone besides themself.
Miya doesn’t worry about Langa when he has to race against Adam, he doesn’t worry about Cherry when he starts occasionally wearing a wrist brace, he doesn’t worry about Joe when he gets unusually quiet, he doesn’t worry about Shadow when he stops talking about the manager lady he has a crush on, and he definitely doesn’t worry about slimeball Reki always picking at the scabs on his legs and giving himself more and more little scars.
Definitely.
Obviously.
Why would Miya care about a couple of slimes and a couple of adults who can very much take care of themselves? That’s stupid, and Miya isn’t stupid.
(Or, that’s what they tell themself.)
Miya wasn’t worried about Langa racing Adam, except for the fact that their nerves were so shot they were shaking all evening and they’d cried in the bathroom at school that day because they didn’t want their friend getting hurt.
Miya wasn’t worried about Cherry’s wrist, except for the fact that they interrupted what was undoubtedly giong to turn into a beef challenge so Cherry wouldn’t race on a night he’d worn the wrist brace to S.
Miya wasn’t worried about Joe being quieter than normal, except for the fact that they skated to Sia La Luce after school the next day and just to take up a table and play video games while sipping on a free soda until Joe finally came and asked why they were there and Miya told him Because you weren’t talking to us very much last night.
Miya wasn’t worried about Shadow’s sudden feigned disinterest in the manager lady, except for the fact that they straight up asked him about it and told him they’d take out her boyfriend if Shadow wanted them too.
Miya wasn’t worried about Reki’s horrible habit of picking at scabs, except for the fact that.
Well.
They are worried.
And, okay, it’s not just the scab thing either. It’s the chewing on pencils or his hair or his lip or his nails or--
And look, Miya gets it. Reki can’t help the fidgeting. He can’t help his tics, and he shouldn’t be trying to suppress them, and Miya knows that full well.
But they still hate seeing Reki absentmindedly bringing harm to himself.
Because, of course, why would anyone want anyone to be inadvertently hurting themselves? It has nothing to do with the fact that Miya has a soft spot for their friends. Absolutely not. Miya doesn’t care about that sort of thing. Miya is above being worried for people.
Miya sees a cat shaped stress ball while shopping for school clothes and knows they have to buy it.
It’s green and purple, and it has a really nice squish and Miya tells themself they’re buying it because they like it. The fact that they know Reki has a collection of stress balls for fidgeting with has absolutely nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.
Miya buys it with the money they won off a bet at last week’s S, since their mom just scoffs and rolls her eyes when she sees them pick it up, but it is absolutely worth it.
Not that Miya cares about Reki. Not that they put the stress ball in their backpack just in case Reki ever needs to borrow it.
Not that it ever comes out of the backpack until they’re at S and Reki is chewing on his fingernails and Miya has had enough because they know that just two days ago, Reki had had band-aids over three different fingers where he’d nibbled the nail down far enough that it was hurting him.
Shadow is racing some rookie, Cherry is helping Langa prepare for the race right after, and Joe said he was going to find some soda drink for Cherry, so it’s just Miya and Reki watching the race together.
Reki is methodically shifting his weight back and forth between his feet, and for a while, he was just playing with the zipper of his jacket - flicking it back and forth, zipping it up and down, hooking and unhooking it - harmless fidgeting.
But when the race is nearing its end, Miya looks over to find Reki’s thumbnail in his mouth.
The same thumb that had been bandaged two days ago.
Miya groans, loud enough that they know Reki will hear, before shrugging their backpack off their shoulders and kneeling down to rummage through it until they find the stress ball.
“Catch,” is the only warning Reki gets before Miya tosses it up to him.
Miraculously, he catches it.
“What’s this?” Reki questions, turning it over in his hands as Miya zips their backpack back up and stands again.
“So you stop ruining your fingernails.” They cross their arms and angle their body slightly away from Reki, even if just so they don’t have to look him in the eye. “It’s obnoxious. And then you chew on your band-aids, which is gross, and--”
Reki mumbles something under his breath, and Miya glances over at him. “What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Thank you.”
Miya scoffs. “Whatever. I bought it for myself, slime, so give it back before you leave.”
And then the crowd around them is erupting into applause as Shadow speeds across the finish line, and Miya is grabbing Reki’s jacket sleeve. “Come on, your boyfriend’s race is next, let’s go see him off.”
Reki sputters as Miya cackles, dragging him over to the starting line and ignoring the protests of He’s not my boyfriend!
(And if anyone notices that Miya only ever brings out the stress ball when they’re handing it over to Reki, they don’t dare bring it up.)
iii. kojiro
It’s a spur of the moment thing, really.
Reki showed up at Sia La Luce, asking if he could sit and do his homework for a while because his sister has friends over and they kept bothering him, and Langa’s mom has a cold, so she won’t allow Langa to have any friends over to avoid passing it on to them.
Kojiro gives him the corner booth he tries to keep open after school hours and on weekends in case any of the kids pop by, looking for a place to stay.
When he brings Reki a soda, he notices the blood streaked across his arm. It isn’t much, so the injury must be minor, but it’s definitely fresh, and Kojiro isn’t going to let any of the kids get an infected wound on his watch. Kaoru and Hiromi would have his head.
“You alright, kid?”
Reki looks up. “Yeah.” He blinks twice. “Why?”
Kojiro nods to his arm.
“Huh?” Reki looks down. “Oh!” He turns to his backpack. “I probably have a napkin or something--”
“Don’t,” Kojiro interrupts. “I’ll go get stuff to clean it up. I’ve got a first aid kit in the back.”
He returns shortly with the first aid kit in hand. “Can I clean it for you?”
Reki hesitates.
“I won’t hold too tight, so you’ll be able to move if you need to.”
That gets him to relent, nodding and moving over so there’s room for Kojiro to sit next to him. He keeps his word, only using his hand to tilt Reki’s arm and keep it steady while he cleans the drying blood off. When Reki has to pull away to roll his shoulder, Kojiro lets him go easily, and Reki seems to relax after that.
“So what happened?” Kojiro asks as he pulls out a band-aid.
“Must’ve picked a scab.” he shrugs as Kojiro places the band-aid on his arm. “It happens. I forgot to grab my Rubik’s Cube before I left, ‘cause I was just trying to get away from my sister and her friends as quick as possible, and when I don’t have anything to fidget with, sometimes this,” he vaguely gestures to the band-aid, “happens.”
And, well, Kojiro can’t just let that happen, now can he?
“I’ll be back.”
Reki mumbles some acknowledgement, but Kojiro doesn’t wait around. He returns the first aid kit to its spot and then looks around the kitchen, trying to figure out what could possibly work as an alternative to Reki’s fidget toys.
Kojiro knows he hasn’t seen all of them - there are ones he’s heard Langa mention that he doesn’t recognize. He knows about the Rubik’s Cubes and the stress balls and the slinkies and the mini skateboards. But he doesn’t have any of those things here in the restaurant.
He refuses to go back to Reki empty handed, though. If only he had--
Wait.
The paintbrushes.
NOT paintbrushes!
They’re not paintbrushes. But Kaoru calls them paintbrushes, and of course he told Langa that’s what they were called before Kojiro had a chance to give him the actual name, so now all of the kids just call them paintbrushes, but--
The point stands.
Kojiro grabs one of the silicon pastry brushes from its place and sets back out towards where Reki is seated.
Kaoru likes to mess with them, running his thumb over the bristles while he reads or idly watches Kojiro clean up. Langa said they had a nice texture, and Reki had agreed.
Kojiro had just rolled his eyes at the time, because of course he would accidentally adopt kids who follow Kaoru’s example of completely disregarding the intended use of the pastry brushes.
But hey, anything’s better than Reki picking his scabs open.
When Kojiro returns to the table, Reki’s rocking in his seat, chewing on his lip and scratching his wrist as he stares at a textbook.
Kojiro sets the brush down on top of the book and Reki looks up, raising an eyebrow.
“Try this instead of picking at your scabs?”
“...I thought the brushes weren’t for fidgeting with?” he questions
“They’re not,” Kojiro assures him, “but I can make exceptions.”
Reki’s confusion softens into a smile as he reaches for the brush. He runs his thumb over the bristles. “Thanks,” he whispers.
Kojiro leans forward and ruffles the boy’s hair. “Any time, kid.”
(And if Kojiro buys a new pastry brush just to keep with him in case Reki - or anyone else - needs it for fidgeting purposes, that’s his business.)
iv. kaoru
“I need help.”
At first glance, one might think Reki was doing just fine, but Kaoru knows better than to leave it at a first glance, especially when he doesn’t even get a proper greeting.
Upon closer inspection, Reki’s eyes are tinted red, and he’s shifting his weight quicker than usual, giving an anxious air about him. He’s chewing on his lip as he awaits Kaoru’s response, until the lip-chewing is interrupted by a verbal tic, pitched higher than that his generally are.
“Come in.” Kaoru gestures for Reki to follow him into the studio. Thankfully, his next appointment isn’t for another couple hours, so he can make time to talk to Reki now.
“Thank you - you you you you - Cherry, you - you you you you - you’re the best!”
The repeating things four times happens more when he’s nervous, Kaoru has noticed. When he’s at ease, it’s generally only twice.
“What can I help you with?” he asks once they’ve been seated.
Reki has his backpack next to him, and he’s rubbing one of the zippers between his fingers. He doesn’t meet Kaoru’s eyes, but that isn’t necessarily surprising. Both he and Langa tend to avoid direct eye contact, and quite honestly, Kaoru can’t blame them for it.
“How’d you make it through high school?”
“What?” Kaoru asks before he can think of a better, more tactful, response.
“Like, I mean, with focusing!” Reki clarifies quickly. “I can never pay attention to what the teachers are saying for more than a few minutes, and,” he whistles, then blinks twice before continuing, “and Joe said you used to have the same problem, so - so so so so - so I was wondering if maybe you had any - so so - any tips?” He glances up so quickly Kaoru almost thinks he imagined it.
Trouble focusing in class? Yes, Kaoru definitely had his share of struggle in that department. It isn’t something he generally talks about - or something he even likes to remember - but he can’t blame Kojiro for sending Reki to him for help. He’d rather Reki ask for help than do what Kaoru did and just try to manage without admitting he was struggling.
“If-- If you don’t have any advice, that’s fine, I just figured I would ask in case--”
“Reki,” Kaoru interrupts harshly. Maybe a bit too harshly if the way Reki winces back is anything to go by.
Kaoru sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. He counts to three - no time to go any higher - before he looks back at Reki, who seems on the edge of fleeing. “You want to know how I made it through school without flunking out?”
Reiki hesitates, then nods.
Kaoru gestures around him. “Calligraphy. My papers were full of different characters and phrases in the margins. I’d pick something to practice, and write it over and over for an hour, or until the page was full or I got bored.”
He shuffles through papers until he finds one he doesn’t need anymore, then turns it over onto the back. “Obviously, this is best done with a brush, but you can only get away with so much when you’re in school. The trick is all in getting the right type of pen. You need one that feels good to write with, one that glides across the paper smoothly. I should have some around here somewhere still.” He stands up and starts looking through the various writing utensils he’s collected over the years. He can feel Reki’s eyes on him, but the boy doesn’t make any noise apart from his tics.
Once Kaoru’s found the right pens, he returns to the table. “It’s about the repetition,” he explains as he begins writing. “The repetitive movement gives your mind the extra stimulation it needs without taking all of your attention away from what your teacher is talking about. And while having a good pen is important for making the letters look nice, it’s also important from a sensory standpoint.”
He turns the paper so Reki can see it.
Reiki looks down at the paper, then up at Kaoru, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Kojiro?”
He snatches the paper away. “It was the first thing that came to mind,” he says, like that makes him look like any less of a sap. “It doesn’t matter what you write. Could be a name, a phrase, a favorite word, whatever. But if you’re writing, your teachers will generally assume you’re taking notes and leave you alone. That was my trick for making it through school, and it was what got me into calligraphy in the first place.”
He holds the pen out to Reki, and slides the paper back over to him. “If you don’t like this pen, I’ve got plenty you can try.”
Reki makes a soft sound in the back of his throat before carefully taking the pen from Kaoru. He holds it above the paper in complete silence for a few moments before, slowly, his hand begins to move.
“Oh,” he whispers once he’s finished writing. “This is a nice pen.”
Kaoru smiles. “I told you.” He looks down to see Reki wrote out Langa’s name, and he bites back a chuckle. “If you’re not into writing, doodling works too. Either way though, the pen is what’s important.”
Reki nods slowly, studying the pen. “Where’d you get this pen?”
“Oh,” Kaoru waves the question aside, “you can just keep that one. I’ve got plenty more.”
“Thanks. Cherry, you’re the best!” Reki jumps up. “I gotta go, or my mom’s gonna be asking where I’m at, but thank you so much. Seriously, I--”
“Reki,” Kaoru interrupts gently.
Reki clamps his mouth shut.
“You’re welcome. And if you want my advice on that,” he gestures to Langa’s name on the paper, “just tell him. You don’t want to be left behind, wishing you’d said something.”
Reki’s cheeks flush and he mumbles something under his breath. He stumbles through a goodbye - a proper goodbye, unlike his greeting, if it could even be called that - and then he’s gone.
Kaoru sighs and shakes his head.
He didn’t plan on half-adopting three teenagers in his late twenties, but sometimes, that’s just life.
v. hiromi
Hiromi isn’t online shopping for gifts. He’s looking for new pins for his S costume, and right as he’s going to confirm the order, a suggested search catches his eye.
Flower fidget spinner.
Huh.
Maybe he clicks on it because he sees the word flower, or maybe he clicks on it because it makes him think of Reki. Regardless, now he’s here, scrolling through different flower-shaped fidget spinners, and no, he wasn’t searching for a gift, but…
But come on. How often does Reki forget to bring a fidget toy with him? And would it really be that hard for Hiromi to carry a little fidget spinner with him in case Reki needs it? And maybe it’d make him look good in front of--
Okay, not going down that path right now!
Hiromi adds the spinner he likes best to his cart, and before he can decide against it, he clicks place order.
It arrives two weeks later, and Hiromi tosses it in the glovebox of his car and basically forgets about it until a week after that when he’s stuck on chauffeur duty.
Reki is apparently in the process of fixing his moped, and since Langa’s busy tonight, he wasn’t planning on going to S, until Miya challenged him to a beef over something Hiromi quite honestly didn’t bother to remember. It was something stupid. Something like whether or not tomatoes should be eaten like apples?
Hiromi didn’t think it was something that constituted a beef, but whatever. He’s raced quite a few pointless beefs in his time, so who is he to gatekeep?
Whatever the case, Reki came into the shop and pleaded for a ride, and Hiromi has found he can’t exactly say no to the kids when they ask him for something. Especially not when they ask with those big, pleading, doe eyes right in front of Hiromi’s manager, who has always had a soft spot for kids.
So now he’s driving Reki to S, listening to the air conditioning blend with the soft radio music and Reki’s tutting and tongue-clicking.
“Hey Shadow?” Reki pipes up.
“Mm?” Hiromi glances over at the teeanger in the passenger seat and finds that he’s tugging at strands of his hair. He would’ve just let him be if not for the fact that he catches a particularly hard tug that makes Reki wince.
And really, that just won’t do. Not when Reki has a beef over tomatoes to win.
“Top shelf in the glove box,” Hiromi instructs.
“What?”
“Open the glove box. It’s on the top shelf, should still be in the package.”
There’s a beat of silence before Hiromi hears the glovebox being open, a second of rustling, and then--
“Is this a flower-shaped fidget spinner?”
“Better than yanking all the hair out of your head,” he grumbles like he won’t be immensely disappointed if Reki doesn’t like it.
Another beat of silence.
Then, the sound of the plastic package being opened. “It’s really pretty.” A soft whirring noise. “Oh, it spins really nicely too! This is a good one!”
Hiromi doesn’t let his giddiness show in his expression, but he might smile just a little bit. “Carry on, then.”
“Right!” Hiromi keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him, but he can hear the gentle spinning noise as Reki continues to speak, “So, hypothetically, if I maybe sort of had a crush on someone, how would I go about figuring out if they like me back?”
Hiromi’s first instinct is to say How would I know? but the sharp retort dies on his tongue when he remembers who, exactly, he’s talking to.
“If you’re wondering about Langa, that kid has been in love with you for months now.”
This is followed by the unmistakable clattering of the fidget spinner falling out of Reki’s hand and hitting the door on its way down.
“What?!” Reki demands.
“Oh, sorry, should I have been less blunt?” Hiromi spares another glance over at Reki, who is leaning down to pick the fidget spinner back up. “Let me rephrase. I think that this mysterious blue-haired skateboarder you may or may not have feelings for, whoever they are, probably reciprocates those potential feelings and you should just suck it up and confess so the rest of us don’t have to watch you two dance around your feelings any longer than we already have.”
“Whatever,” Reki mumbles.
(But Shadow glances over one last time and sees the contemplation etched across Reki’s face.)
+ i. reki
“Hey,” Reki says softly, taking a seat next to Langa. “You okay?”
Langa nods. “It was just…” he waves vaguely, “getting overwhelming. Too many people.”
Reki knows that feeling all too well - it was one of the things that made him hesitant to actually try going to S in the first place. And he’s grown used to the crowds now, but there are still times when he needs to just step back and away from all the commotion to avoid sensory overload.
“I get it,” he whispers. He tries to keep his pace slow as he continues speaking, so as to not overwhelm Langa. “Do you need anything? Food? Water? Or we can leave if you’re ready?”
Langa shakes his head. “I think I’ll be ready to go back in a few minutes. Just…” he glances up at Reki, “can you stay with me?”
Reki smiles easily. “Of course.”
Langa exhales and closes his eyes, leaning back against the chain link fence. His fingers are tapping against his legs like they’re following the rhythm of a song only he can hear.
One of Langa’s eyes cracks open. “I can feel you staring at me.”
Reki turns away quickly. “I’m not staring,” he argues, despite the fact that he very much was staring.
(So he likes watching Langa - sue him! Langa is very pretty and Reki is very bi, he should be allowed to look at pretty boys just the same as girls do, thank you very much.)
“Then what were you doing?” Langa questions. Reki can hear the hint of a teasing smile in his voice.
Reki racks his mind for some sort of excuse, and then his eyes land on his backpack.
Right!
Reki grabs the bag and starts searching through it until he pulls out what he’s looking for: one of his stress balls. It’s blue and shaped like some pastry Reki can never remember the name of, and it’s the one Langa said he liked best.
Reki tosses it over to Langa. “I noticed you were sort of fidgeting with your fingers, so maybe that’ll help?”
“I don’t want to take it from you.”
Reki shakes his head before reaching back into his backpack and retrieving a slinky. He holds it up so Langa can see it. “When I actually remember to bring fidget toys, I always bring more than one.”
Langa lets out a soft laugh as Reki sits back next to him, leaning against the fence as well. Langa drops his head onto Reki’s shoulders, and they sit in silence for a while. Reki weaves the slinky between his fingers and Langa plays with the stress ball.
Reki’s never been very good at staying still.
Really, he’s hardly staying still right now. His right leg is bouncing and his left foot is wiggling. His hands are messing with the slinky and despite how content he feels right now, he’s still ticcing. He’s shaken his head and bumped it into Langa’s more than once already, and his mouth keeps making quiet noises.
He’s not good at staying still, even to this extent.
But you couldn’t pay him to move away from Langa right now.
“Hey Reki?” Langa speaks up after a while.
“Hm?”
“I’m really grateful you’re in my life.”
Reki is almost surprised he doesn’t melt into a pile of goo right here and now. He could die and he’d be fine with it. The planet could crack open and the only thing Reki would care about is the fact that at least he’d be facing the end with Langa at his side.
“I’m grateful you’re in my life too,” Reki echoes, but the words sound hollow, because they don’t even begin to encapsulate all he really feels for Langa.
(Cherry and Shadow’s voices telling him to just make your move ring through Reki’s mind.)
Langa nuzzles closer to him.
(Reki will tell him later. There isn’t a force on earth that could convince him to interrupt this moment of peace with Langa.)