Work Text:
please use gentle hands (to cradle my aching soul.)
i.
Langa thinks he could watch Reki’s hands for hours. He doesn’t really know why he loves to watch them so much, he just does. He loves to watch his tan fingers paint the decks of boards late at night, letting the paint smear and speckle his fingers sometimes. He loves watching the strength in them as he’s building the actual decks themselves, fingers flexing as he twists wheels into place.
Even with all the strength they hold, Reki’s fingers can be gentle, too. They’re gentle in the way he tickles his little sisters when they’re crying to make them laugh, in the way he sometimes helps Koyomi make sure her hair is in place or paints her nails so they’re clean. Reki’s hands when he helps his mom in the kitchen, or helps her with laundry, doing something so mundane but still fascinating to Langa.
The way he touches Langa’s face when they’re curled up in bed, kissing softly under the comfort of the blankets, and Reki’s touch is gentle enough that Langa feels like he could cry is one more thing that he loves. Reki treats him gently, but not like he’s breakable, and it’s a nice change of pace from how people back in Canada perceived him sometimes after his dad died. He’s never been one to crave touch from people, but he wants Reki’s hands on him at all times.
He loves to watch Reki as he’s desperately trying to fix red hair in the mornings before school, fingers pushing red hair into place again and again. Tan fingers with callouses on the tips that struggle sometimes to hold a pencil when he’s having a bad day, making the digits shake.
He’s pretty sure he’s counted all the freckles on Reki’s fingers and the backs of his hands by now. It’s something that happens when Langa is overwhelmed- whenever he starts to feel like his chest is too tight and Reki will grab his hand, Langa will always start with the biggest freckle on the inside of Reki’s pinky finger and count them from there, and it’s soothing enough that he always feels his chest loosen.
He’s always been a little fascinated, too, by the stark difference in their skin. Reki’s fingers are always a deep tan, even in the winter. His fingers are calloused and scarred up from his years of building and working on boards, but they’re still beautiful. Langa’s fingers are awkward and bony- his skin is pale enough that blue and purple veins can be seen year-round, and his joints creak often from growing too much too fast.
Langa’s favorite thing is when Reki puts his hands on him and doesn’t really seem to notice he’s doing it. He’ll do it when they’re sitting on the roof during lunch, his hand resting easily on Langa’s thigh as he speaks, or brushing his hair away from his face so he doesn’t get it into his mouth when he’s trying to eat. He’ll do it at S, fingers finding their way into Langa’s belt loops or his back pocket, using it to keep him close without a second thought. It makes a warm feeling appear deep in Langa’s bones, chasing away the ever-present chill that seems to linger there.
They’re laying in Reki’s bed one night, and Reki’s curled up in the pillows with a workbook balanced on his knees where they’re bent when Langa gets the idea. They both have math homework they’re supposed to be working on, and Reki’s got about half of his pages done so far, but Langa stopped a while ago. He’s a little confused as to what exactly they’re supposed to be covering, but he refuses to ask for help. Instead, he’s got Reki’s free hand in his lap, tracing Reki’s fingers slowly to try and calm down the anxious ball threatening to expand in his chest.
“You know that you’re being really distracting right now, don’t you?” Reki doesn’t take his eyes off the book in front of him, writing down the answer to another one of the problems he’s figured out as he does so. His expression, however, is soft, and he curls his fingers up to squeeze Langa’s just once before he straightens them out again. “You okay?”
Langa gives a small hum, not answering Reki verbally as he continues running his fingers over the other’s, his own trembling as does so. It’s hard to explain out loud how he feels sometimes, or that having Reki’s hands on him help calm him down when the thought of anyone else touching him makes his skin feel too tight, so he chooses instead to stay quiet. He does, however, pick up a pen from the bag that’s tucked between them, and he clicks it open as he draws Reki’s hand closer to lay it flat on his own lap. He brings his bottom lip into his own mouth to chew on it, gently pressing Reki’s fingers down so his palm is exposed. He hesitates for a second before he presses the pen to Reki’s palm, black ink tainting tan skin.
This makes me feel safe.
The words are sloppy, because Langa’s trembling fingers never let him write properly. They’re also in English, and he knows that Reki won’t be able to read them. However, it’s easier than saying the words out loud, at least for now.
“What’s that?” Reki cranes his head a little bit to see what Langa’s doing, and he flexes his fingers some as he raises their hands up so he can see it better. “No fair, you know I can’t read that.”
Langa makes a quiet noise, swallowing hard around the small lump in his throat as he brings his trembling hands away from Reki’s, curling them around his own wrists and gripping them tightly as he slumps down into the bed. “Sorry, I...sorry.” His voice breaks on the last word, anxiety clawing its way up his chest and into his throat. He should’ve just kept the idea to himself, and he thinks that maybe he should scoot away when he’s stopped by the other.
“Langa, hey, babe, it’s chill. I’m not upset or anything,” Reki puts the workbooks aside so he can lower his knees, reaching his arm to wrap around the taller boy as he pulls him closer, tucking Langa’s head onto his shoulder. “I’m just messing with you. You know you can tell me anything, though, right? You don’t have to write it on me.”
Nodding weakly, Langa tucks his arm over Reki’s stomach, gripping him tightly as he feels Reki’s fingers start a slow rhythm up and down his back. The instant Reki’s hands are on him he can feel the anxiety threatening to take over his body ebb away, and he closes his eyes as he settles better into Reki’s side.
Reki hums quietly to himself as he presses a kiss to Langa’s hair, letting his free hand tangle with Langa’s on his stomach as he settles. “How about we take a break from all this work and go skate. Sound good?” When Langa nods, Reki ducks his head down to press a soft kiss to Langa’s mouth, lingering there for a moment before he pulls away; he drops one more kiss to Langa’s hair before he motions for them to get out of bed.
“Let’s go, then.”
If Reki takes special care to make sure the words don’t get smeared through the night, well, Langa makes sure to not comment on it.
ii.
There’s quite a bit of time that passes before it happens again, but there’s been occasions where Langa’s put something on Reki’s hand in black ink. There’s been small hearts drawn into tan skin, there’s been small flowers tucked onto Reki’s thumb, and there was even a snowflake once that took up Reki’s whole palm. There’s just something about Langa being able to leave these small marks on Reki’s skin that helps ease his anxieties, and Reki indulges him every time.
The next time Langa writes actual words into Reki’s skin comes during the school day. It’s the middle of the week, but Langa’s already struggling. He’s left his homework at home every day so far, he’s embarrassed himself in front of the literature class, and he’s already had to let down two girls who slide confession notes onto his desk before school.
He can feel the anxiety growing in his chest as the day goes on, and things reach a peak during lunch. There was once again another girl who slipped a confession note into Langa’s math workbook, and he was confronted by a boy that’s not even in their class about it afterwards while he was running an errand for their teacher.
Langa’s blocked out most of the conversation, and he can feel how his anxiety is threatening to choke him as he pushes himself back into the room. Reki’s eyes go to him immediately, as they always do, and there must be something on Langa’s face that’s evidence of how he’s feeling because Reki is pushing himself to his feet immediately, amber eyes full of worry.
The teacher calls after them but they’re cut off by the sound of the lunch bell, and Reki’s fingers are a tight cuff around Langa’s wrist as he pulls him through the halls. Instead of leading them to the roof, however, Reki leads them out a side door in an unfamiliar hallway, and he doesn’t stop until he reaches a clearing with a few trees.
He tugs them around the base of one of the larger ones, and both of his hands grip Langa’s, bringing them up so pale fingers of one hand are pressed over his heart, and the other is gripping tan skin under the bright green fabric that’s covering Reki’s hip.
Now this is familiar to Langa. It’s something that they’ve been doing even before they were actually together: Reki figured out pretty early on that Langa needed to be grounded when his anxiety becomes too much, but also that he himself was the only one Langa was comfortable touching when it came to this (or in general) and so it was a lot of awkward trial and error.
This, however, works. Reki’s hands on his cheeks while Langa’s own hands cling to warm skin and feel the way the redhead’s heart beats. It’s gotten them some odd looks when this happens in public, but Reki has convinced Langa that it doesn’t matter. Like this, they’re able to just be in their own little world while they focus on settling each other.
“Breathe, man, c’mon,” Reki is brushing his thumbs along Langa’s cheekbones, and he does his best to focus on the feel of that, clenching his eyes shut as he clings tightly to the other. The redhead exaggerates his breaths, keeping the steady rhythm he’s set up on his cheeks, and Langa manages to follow a few moments later. “You got it.”
It takes a few moments more, but Langa finally evens his breathing out, and he opens his eyes slowly to see the other once he does so; he can feel that his eyes are damp, and the motion of Reki reaching up with his thumbs to brush along his lower lashes is enough to have Langa leaning back against the tree, suddenly exhausted. Reki goes easily, tucking his feet between the taller boy’s and dropping his hands down to cradle his neck instead.
“Sorry, I...it’s been an….odd day,” the words come out in pieces, and Langa takes in a shuddering breath as both of his hands move to grip Reki tightly, burying his face in the smaller boy’s neck and almost melting against him when he feels arms wrap tightly around his waist.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for, man, it happens,” Reki holds him tightly, squeezing him once hard before he brushes his mouth against the top of Langa’s head once more. “It’s all good.”
They stay like that for a while, just breathing in this little space they’ve carved out for themselves. Reki’s thumbs continue to brush over Langa’s neck as Langa’s own fingers slowly start to relax their hold on Reki’s hips. Langa knows that they need to go back soon or they’re going to be late to class, and he takes in one more deep breath that he lets out in a huff as he pulls away.
“We need to go before we get in trouble for being late again,” Reki’s hands drop to Langa’s sides, squeezing them once before he lets go. “You said your mom is working tonight, right? Want me to stay over?”
Langa nods as he reluctantly lets go of Reki, using trembling fingers to try and brush blue hair behind his ears. “Yeah, she picked up that extra shift.” He makes a small noise of frustration when his hair falls back into his face, reaching a hand up once more to try and fix it.
“Here, I got you,” Reki reaches under his hoodie sleeve, pulling a hair blue hair elastic off his wrist and handing it over to Langa easily, knocking his hand against his with a smile as he starts back to the school; he tucks a finger through Langa’s belt loop to help lead him as he watches the other fumble with his hair, tying it off at the nape of his neck in a messy bun. “I figured I better start carrying some since you always seem to forget one.”
Langa gives him a sheepish smile, using a hand to rub at his arm for a moment before he speaks, “Thanks.”
“Not a problem,” Reki stops them at the door they came out of earlier, and he moves onto his toes to press a short but firm kiss to Langa’s mouth, pulling away with a smile so he can open the door, ushering Langa in.
Reki rambles about something his sisters did this morning as he leads them back to the classroom, and they settle into their seats with a few minutes still to spare. Reki busies himself with getting his work out of his backpack, settling the finished worksheets in a pile. Langa watches him quietly for a while, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip as he moves to grab his own half-finished worksheets, placing them on the corner of his desk.
“You wanna?” Reki lowers his voice some, holding out a bright red pen to Langa with one hand, the other reaching towards him with his palm out. He offers Langa a smile, tossing the pen to him gently when the other reaches for it.
Langa grips it tightly in his hand for a few long moments before he draws Reki’s hand closer so he can write across the palm of the other’s hand in English once more.
Thanks for taking care of me.
He hands the pen back to Reki once he’s done, and he watches as his boyfriend hums, raising his hand up to his face as he slouches down in his seat with a smile. “One day I’m gonna figure out what all this stuff you’re writing on me is. Hopefully it’s nothing bad.”
Langa manages a small laugh as he shakes his head, and he hesitates for a moment before he kicks one of his feet out so he can keep the side of his foot pressed to Reki’s, needing the contact with the other. Reki doesn’t say anything, gently knocking his foot back in response, and Langa feels the bundle of anxiety slowly start to dissipate from his chest.
It’s enough for now.
iii.
“You know, what if one day I just decide to get one of these tattooed on me?”
Langa looks up from where he’s doodling a line of hearts across Reki’s wrist, his eyes wide as he stills the pen against the other’s skin. They’re currently standing behind the counter of Dope Sketch, but it’s been a slow afternoon, so Reki is working on his literature homework as Langa keeps his free wrist hostage, covering it in bright blue ink.
The redhead keeps his eyes on the book he’s trying to read, flexing his fingers some as he smiles. “What? I think it would be cool.” He looks up at Langa, leaning his hip against the counter so he’s turned sideways, his eyes warm in the afternoon sun that’s creeping through the window. “Don’t you?”
Langa continues staring at him for a few moments, and he tries to duck his head to shield his face a moment later, but he’s thwarted by the ponytail Reki tied his hair back into earlier that day. “I mean, would you really want something I drew on your skin to stay there forever? They’re nothing…” Langa trails off as he looks away, shrugging a little as he continues, “...nothing special.”
Reki makes a noise as he reaches his free hand up with a glance around the shop, cupping Langa’s cheeks in his hand so he can make the blue-haired boy meet his gaze. “Dude, anything you draw or make is special because it’s from you. That’s the whole reason I would want it in the first place.”
Langa can feel his cheeks flushing, and he swallows hard as he nods just slightly, his fingers gripping holding to the pen in his fingers. “Reki…” He glances around the shop once himself before he leans in, pressing a kiss to the other’s mouth. He keeps it soft, pulling away after a few moments, and the smile on Reki’s face is enough to make his cheeks flush once more.
“Here, man, finish this out. It’s looking really good,” Reki motions at Langa with his wrist, turning it so he can have access to the part of his skin not yet covered in blue hearts. “I’m liking it a lot.”
They grow quiet as the last few minutes of their shift pass, and Langa uses the time to finish out the row of hearts on Reki’s wrist so they make a complete set. He turns the other’s hand so that the back of it is flat, and he chews on his bottom lip as he fills the skin there with words.
You make me feel important.
He clicks the pen shut, holding it back out to Reki with a small smile. “Here. For later.” Langa watches as Reki tucks the pen into his pants pocket, and he reaches out to tangle their fingers together loosely.
“Changing it up on me,” Reki uses their tangled hands to draw Langa to the back of the store so they can clock out, grinning at him as he squeezes their hands together hard briefly. “Back of the hand instead of palm this time.”
Langa laughs sheepishly, shrugging a shoulder once again as he speaks, “I thought maybe it would stay a little longer that way.” He waits until the door clicks shut behind them before he leans down, pressing Reki to it and kissing him firmly, both of his hands coming up to cup his cheeks.
Writing on the back of Reki’s hands also means that the ink doesn’t smear when he tucks warm hands under Langa’s shirt, so it’s a win for both of them.
iv.
“What’s all over your hand?”
The question comes from Miya as they’re taking up a booth in Sie la Luce, the youngest boy sprawled across one side with his legs crossed over one-another on the bench, gaming console in hand. Reki is currently sitting across from him against the small wall, one of his hands tucked around his glass of water. Langa got up a few moments ago to take a call from his mom, and Reki’s attention keeps drifting to where the older boy is tucked into the back corner of the restaurant, pacing anxiously across the floor.
The mess of pink, blue, and purple ink that’s covering every inch of Reki’s hand from fingers to wrist is what Miya is referring to, and Reki looks down at it himself after a moment, turning his hand a few times. “Oh, it’s just something Langa does sometimes.”
Reki can usually tell just how Langa is feeling based on how much of his skin the other covers in ink. On better days, there may just be one or two things that take residence on his skin, if there’s anything at all. On the harder days, there’s more ink, and it sometimes takes up more than just Reki’s hand.
It’s been a harder day.
Langa’s been quiet most of the day, which isn’t odd in itself, but there’s a difference in Langa’s normal quiet and his quiet when he’s trying to work through something in his head. Reki’s learned over time that on the harder days to just let Langa work through whatever it is he needs to work through, and to make sure that he doesn’t stray too far away from him.
He could tell that today was going to be a harder day the moment that he had woken up and Langa was already up and out of bed, sitting in Reki’s desk chair with his knees drawn to his chest as he looked out the window. He had seemed fine the night before, but he’s never sure of just what exactly Langa’s brain puts him through when he sleeps.
He’s still not sure why exactly Langa does what he does, but he doesn’t mind. Langa’s been weird about people touching him ever since the day they met, but now it seems like once he figured out he was allowed to touch, he can’t get enough, but only from Reki. He doesn’t mind his siblings touching him too much, but it’s only a matter of time before he starts to get uncomfortable with it. Strangers don’t stand a chance, and neither do any of their friends that’s not Reki.
“He okay?” Miya doesn’t look at Reki when he speaks, as if not acknowledging the other will make it seem like he doesn’t care.
Reki has to fight back a smile- Miya acts like he couldn’t care less about the other two boys, but Reki knows better.
“He’s...Langa,” Reki finishes lamely, shrugging a little as he watches the older boy come back to their table. Reki can see the exhaustion in his eyes, in the purple circles under them; he can see, too, the way Langa’s mouth is pinched and the way his fingers are trembling more than usual.
The blue-haired boy settles into the booth silently, keeping his head down as he chews on his bottom lip for a moment. He doesn’t notice, then, when Miya reaches into his backpack under the table until the youngest is tossing a green pen across the table to him.
“Here. I don’t need it anyway.”
Langa stares at him for a moment before he reaches out to take the pen, uncapping it and tucking the lid under his thigh as he gives Miya a sheepish smile. “Thanks.” He reaches for Reki’s hand, pulling it into his lap and once more filling the back of his hand with ink, this time in a shade of bright green.
Thanks for helping me stay calm.
The other two boys continue their conversation from before Langa got up, and the oldest fills in the skin around the words with small stars, his fingers slowly growing more steady as he does so. He doesn’t glance up when Reki presses a kiss to his hair when there’s a lull in the conversation, too focused on keeping the stars even.
Miya calls them gross, but he can’t really bring himself to care.
v.
“Do you think you could do the heart thing again like you did a couple of weeks ago?”
They’re curled up on Langa’s couch, some movie neither of them have much interest in on the tv. Langa’s laying back against the arm of the couch with Reki between his legs, and he’s absentmindedly drawing swirls across one of Reki’s palms. Reki has errands that he said he had to run later, and so Langa is soaking up all the time he can get with him before he has to go.
He raises his head from where he had his chin tucked over Reki’s shoulder, blinking at him a few moments with a tip of his head, “On your wrist?”
“Yeah!” Reki nods a few times, his smile bright as he pushes the sleeve of his hoodie up on his right arm, holding it up to Langa. “C’mon, for me?”
Langa hesitates for a long moment before he nods, taking Reki’s wrist in trembling fingers so he can start the drawing. “Okay.”
They’re both quiet for a few moments, Reki kicking his feet in a random rhythm against the other arm of the couch as he relaxes back against Langa, watching the older boy draw the chain of blue hearts into his skin once more.
“You never told me what started all this,” Reki speaks carefully, and Langa notices it’s the same tone of voice he uses when he’s planning to try and get Langa to let him into his mind a little. “Not that I care, dude, I’m just curious.”
Langa doesn’t speak for a while, focusing on the chain of hearts until they’re finished, and he turns Reki’s hand over so he can reach the skin of his wrist under the drying ink, writing his next choice of words carefully.
I love you.
“It’s…sometimes it’s easier for me to write things out than it is for me to say them out loud,” Langa keeps his voice low, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip before he continues. “They’re never anything bad, just…things I’m nervous to say.”
Reki considers him for a moment, and his lips are soft when he brushes them across the pale skin of Langa’s cheek. “I get it, but you know you can tell me anything. I’m always gonna listen.”
Nodding, Langa takes his free arm so he can wrap it around Reki’s waist, squeezing tightly and pressing his face into the warm skin of the other’s neck. “I know. It’s just…hard sometimes.”
Reki hums, one of his hands coming up to brush through blue hair gently as the other covers Langa’s hand on his stomach. “No worries, man. I’m here whenever you’re ready to tell me.”
Langa presses a kiss to Reki’s neck lightly, hesitating before he motions to the writing currently on Reki’s wrist. “That’s the most important thing so far.” He buries his face once more, keeping his voice low still as he squeezes Reki even closer. “It…it says ‘I love you.’ Because I do, and I love how safe you make me feel, and how you made me feel like it was okay to want to be touched again, and how you always take care of me.”
There’s silence for a few moments before Reki is turning over in Langa’s lap, both of his hands coming up to cup the other’s flushed cheeks so he can pull his head up; Reki’s eyes are damp, making the amber color seem deeper as he smiles. “Fuck, Langa. I love you too. That’s why I’m always going to take care of you, no matter what.”
They stay on the couch, exchanging kisses and quiet words until Reki’s late for his errands.
+i
“No peeking, man, I already told you!”
“Reki, come on!”
There’s laughter from the redhead, and Langa can’t place where it’s coming from exactly. He’s got one of Reki’s headbands over his eyes, as well as his own hands, and he’d been excited if this was happening in a different situation, but now he’s just getting impatient.
The bed dips where Reki sits on it, and Langa instinctively turns to the other even though he can’t see him. It’s the same day as Langa’s confession, and once Reki finished his errands and Langa spent some time with his mom before her shift, they skated for a while before coming back to Langa's apartment.
“Give me like two seconds, babe, I promise,” Reki’s words are broken up by laughter, and he gently pushes Langa around until he’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, their knees pressed together as he does so. “Okay!”
Langa drops one of his hands from his eyes as the other pulls the headband off with a small huff, wincing some as his eyes try to adjust to the sudden brightness of the room. “Finally.”
Reki rolls his eyes where he’s sitting across from the other, knocking his knee against the older boy’s gently. “Some patience would not be lost on you, dude.” He squirms a little on the bed before he grins, pushing his hoodie sleeve up just enough so there's a small square of plastic visible around his wrist. “Ta-da!”
“What?” Langa stares at the other for a few moments before he reaches trembling hands out to gently touch the other’s skin, tipping his head as he does so. “What is it?”
Laughing, Reki shakes his head, scooting a little closer to Langa can see his wrist better. “I told you, I was going to get something tattooed on me one day!”
It’s the hearts Langa had drawn in a chain around Reki’s wrist earlier, put instead of blue gel pen they’re now inked permanently into the tan skin with blue ink.
Speechless, Langa keeps his grip on Reki’s wrist gentle as he looks between his face and the new tattoo, his eyes wide and his bottom lip trembling just a little as he does so.
“I figured it might be something different. I don’t have to worry about accidentally washing them off and now maybe you can just colour them in with different ink!” Reki’s grin is bright, and he shifts on the bed once more as he looks down at his wrist himself. “I always loved when you would do the little chain, so I figured why not.”
There’s a piece of himself on Reki’s skin forever, and the thought is enough to bring tears to Langa’s eyes. Careful of the wrapping, he throws himself at the younger boy, knocking them both down onto the bed as his arms come up to wrap around Reki tightly.
This boy that Langa has considered home for a long time, that has helped Langa through some of his darkest days, who lets him cover his beautiful tan skin in abstract drawings in a mismatch of ink, has permanently put something of Langa’s on his body, and Langa doesn’t think he’ll ever love anyone as much as he loves Reki in this moment.
“I love you,” the words are said softly into Reki’s neck, and Langa can feel his whole body tremble as he continues, “Thank you for making me feel again.”
Reki keeps running his fingers through Langa’s hair like he has since the older boy first knocked them to the bed, pressing a line of kisses across the crown of his head as he laughs. “I love you too, man. Thanks for letting me in.”
Langa loves him, he loves him, he loves him.
-
The hearts are coloured in a different pattern every day, and eventually a matching set in red ink earns its place on pale skin a few weeks before a small silver ring sits on the same hand.