Chapter Text
In Langa’s heart, there was a special department dedicated to these evenings. Skating sessions with Reki: so casual yet something worth looking forward to; something, that always cheered him up after the long shifts in Dope Sketch and the ponderings of figuring out what to do next after graduating.
These nights were a playground for new tricks, time for chatting, and enjoying the company of the person who had illuminated the darkness in Langa’s life; the planet’s most lively person, who was like a warm fireplace after the days of wading in a blinding snowstorm.
It was a Thursday night which meant empty streets, the lights of the houses nearby turned off. Responsible people had retreated into their homes, ready to encounter the ordeals of work and school.
Yet for this duo, all adult responsibilities paled compared to what they shared.
From the top of the highest ramp, Langa looked down. He met a smirking face who waved at him.
“Hey, come here! I have an idea!”
Saying no was out of the question, so Langa skated down the ramp to meet his friend. They shared a look before they started doing languid circles that then turned into eights. Infinity. Their symbol, their promise to each other.
The wind caught Langa’s hair, the salty ocean air refreshing his lungs. And as a cherry on top, a better symphony than any famous masterpiece filled Langa’s ears: Reki's laughter. The space was pregnant with vibrant energy—a couple of years ago, that energy had snapped him out of his depression.
In no time, Langa noticed the laughter seized him too.
Okinawa had healed him psychologically—and not only thanks to the climate and the diet which were claimed to be the secret for the most long-living people in the world. Langa’s cause for the better quality of life skated right next to him.
God, if he had a chance to stop the time, this would be a great alternative. Still as an old man, Langa would remember all the details of evenings like these, he was sure of it. In his heart, he would cherish their cohesion, would listen to Reki’s laughter like a record, all over and over again.
The fact was simple yet so obvious: Langa didn’t want this to end. Never. It was fun to have adrenaline-filled beefs in S yet these moments together with Reki they were much more... what could the suitable word be…
Intimate. That was it—like they existed merely for each other. Only Reki had managed to draw out this new feeling from him—and the more taste of it Langa got, the greedier he became.
Sometimes, Langa was sure he had been born only to find Reki. Rarely, he thought about spiritual things or anything religious, but it still didn’t stop him from playing with the idea. What if he and Reki were meant to each other? Two lost souls had filled the gaps in an unexpected place, in an unexpected time, so it made sense, right?
Damn, these thoughts started to make him wistful, burning feeling creeping into his eyes. Despite it, Langa smiled—he smiled all the time when they did eights and passed each other, doing high fives when they were close enough.
But even perfection wasn’t meant to last: After a bit too fast passing, Reki got distracted and fell. Immediately, Langa stopped and sprinted towards his friend.
No more that laughter; the vibrant energy was shut down instantly. It was eerily silent, only occasional faint noises of passing cars in the air.
“Reki?” Langa asked through panting. “Everything okay?”
But his eyes didn’t open: Reki didn’t move. Reki and quiet didn’t fit into the same sentence.
This was concerning.
Langa crouched next to him and squeezed gently Reki's wrist—all kinds of horror scenarios flashed before his eyes: his friend was pro at falling but there still could be a chance for...
“R-reki?” Langa swallowed, pressed his ear against Reki’s chest. It was a good sign it was moving—a tiny relief.
What did they do in movies and shows in a situation like this? Called an ambulance, but what was the number? Oh God, they had gone through this in school a million times, so when the real situation had kicked in, how could he have forgotten?
A phone in his trembling hands, Langa tried to dial a number he didn’t know. In his panic, he didn’t notice that Reki opened his other eye and touched Langa’s arm.
Langa flinched, eyes big as saucers when he took a look. At first, Reki let out a sound that resembled crying. Langa’s panic started again before he realized Reki was holding his tummy, laughing like it was his last day.
“I-I’m sorry...,” Reki said through peals of laughter before he cracked up again. If he didn’t injure himself in the falling, maybe he ironically would choke on his laughter.
Langa furrowed and withdrew the hand he was about to place on Reki’s chest. On his face was the pout of the year. “Are you finished?” he said with a voice full of sourness. “Promise you’ll never do that again.”
Still lying on the tarmac, Reki took a deep breath. His face was completely red. “S-sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, it was only a prank. Sorry, sorry, it was inappropriate.” He took a look at the phone in Langa’s hand. “Oh, were you calling an ambulance? Shit, did it look that bad?”
Light years away from amused, Langa squeezed the apparatus in his hand. He wanted to throw it against the tarmac. “Do you realize that those kinds of pranks are dangerous?” Eyes of fire, he glared at Reki. “What if someday, you’d injure yourself for real, and then I’d be like ‘oh, Reki’s just pulling a prank, no big deal’?”
Reki propped himself into a sitting position. He rubbed his neck. “Look, it wasn't meant to be like that.” A tiny smile curved on his features, the early energy slowly coming back when he spread his arms.“But I’m alive and well, isn’t that the main thing?”
They looked at each other for a brief while. Langa’s chin dipped down. Why had he turned into a mother hen suddenly? They pulled pranks constantly, so this wasn't supposed to be a big deal. Reki had said it was just for fun but for a moment it had flashed before Langa's eyes: an image of lifeless Reki. Reki in a hospital bed…
After his father’s tragic passing, Langa had become sensitive, protective—as if everything and everyone who got close to him, would shatter into pieces if he wasn’t checking on them constantly; if he wasn’t guarding their every move.
What was he supposed to do if he lost Reki? The thought made him shiver even on the warm Okinawan night.
His face must have indicated something. Reki tilted his head, mouth a single line. “Langa?”
An endless freefall started in Langa’s stomach. How could Reki be so adorable, his hair tousled, the headband a bit askew? At the same time, his eyes were concerned and soft—a similar look he had with his sisters yet possessed something deeper too Langa couldn’t fathom.
Langa offered his hand and pulled Reki back on his feet. When he straightened his shirt and still mumbled vague apologies to his sneakers, all Langa could do was to stare.
This close Langa could see the details better: the little dark flecks in Reki’s eyes; the faint shadow of up-coming facial hair; the freckles on his cheeks, the little tattoos Okinawan sun liked to leave. If Langa would mention them to Reki, the reaction would be a fierce blush and flinch. In Langa’s opinion, the things Reki thought were “imperfect” belonged to him. He was like the world’s most fascinating painting: the more you studied it, the more you started to grasp the meaning behind it.
So desperately, Langa wanted Reki to know he was special—but how? He wasn’t an expert in this. In fact, he was sure that if he would try something, it would end up in a downfall. Cursed were his non-existent social skills.
Just when Langa pondered how on earth he should proceed, a loud noise that resembled an erupting volcano startled them both. Langa felt how a hot rush crept to his cheeks and then to his ears. Blushing was a sensation he wasn’t used to—normally, his embarrassment was subtler.
Reki snickered, but not in a mean way. “Ah, of course, it’s already late so no wonder. Shall we go eating somewhere?”
As if it had heard the promising suggestion, Langa’s stomach growled again: a lion was alone in the savannah, looking for prey. “Yeah, sure.” He scratched the back of his nape. “I’ve spent most of my savings this month, so may I suggest we’d go to yours or my place?”
Reki put his hands in his pockets and hummed. “Okay. I think it might be a bit chaotic at this time of the day at my place when mom tries to put the twins to sleep. Is it okay if we’d cook at your place?”
In secret, Langa had hoped to enjoy Masae’s tasty dinner—though a peaceful night sounded perfect as well. Usually, if they went to Reki’s place, they didn’t have a chance to talk privately. The sisters were so fond of their Canadian boy that they wanted all the attention in the world. The last time he had visited the Kyan household, Langa had skated back home with uneven pigtails, his nails painted pink. “Yeah, sure. I think mom doesn’t mind.”
Reki clapped his hands. “Excellent!” The exclamation reverberated in the air when he put his board ready to the asphalt. “What are we waiting for?”
~***~
When the boys reached the apartment, Langa turned the lights on. Silence was the natural form of Nanako’s and Langa’s place—though tonight, it was unexpectedly empty. A little note lied on the dinner table.
Hey sweetie! Went to dinner at Dragon Roll with John. There are some noodles for you and Reki in the cupboards. Make yourself home, might get late. :) -mom <3
It was funny how Nanako had assumed Reki would come over. Mothers were the most reliable fortunetellers in the world. Langa snorted. “Okay, this explains a lot. For the past two weeks, she hasn’t talked about anything else besides a hot British colleague in their hospital.” Langa fished the phone from his pocket: it was almost midnight. “Either they are having a very late dinner, or mom will stay over at John’s.”
Reki peeked behind his friend’s shoulder. “You think you might get a new stepdad soon?”
Langa put the note back on the table. Stepdad. For so many years, it had been only the two of them, so Langa couldn’t imagine how it would be if a new family member was introduced. And what would be even scarier was the thought of a new brother or sister. He had no idea whether his mom’s colleague (crush?) had kids. Luckily, Langa was about to turn 20, so he could move away any time he wanted.
But his mom’s love life wasn’t the reason they had come here. “So, umm, shall we… cook something?” Since Reki’s little “prank”, the air between them had become unusually unnatural. Langa still was concerned about why he acted like that at the skate park earlier. Why had the thought of losing Reki felt so horrible? Of course, he’d be concerned if something happened to his mom or other friends too, but with Reki… he felt like they still had to deal with something.
And Langa knew he had to deal with that monster before it would get matters into its own, dirty hands.
“Yeah,” Reki replied, but instead of proceeding with the cooking, his eyes were fixed at a wall. He pointed at a certain photo in a frame. “Hey, I haven’t seen this before.”
“Oh, yes, mom insisted… to put some childhood pictures.” One day, Langa had found his mom slowly flipping pages of old family albums with glistening eyes. Nanako had claimed she was “okay”, but even with Langa’s clumsy people-reading skills, he had noticed something was a bit off.
Reki crossed his arms, a little smile twitching from the corners of his lips. “I’m not surprised you were a super cute kid.” His index finger touched the glass of the frame. “Especially in this one where you look like a snowman.” It was a photo where Langa was around 7, a little snowboard tucked under his arm. All their clothes were coated with fresh snow. Behind his little boy was Oliver showing a peace sign.
It had been one of the happiest days of Langa’s life: filled with laughter and good times even though he had fallen numerous times in the mountain while practicing snowboarding. Back then, he had taken it for granted yet now it made him wistful to think that that kind of a day was impossible to have anymore.
See, another reason you should do what you want before it’s too late? a dark voice he wanted to shove off murmured into Langa’s ear.
“T-thanks.” Langa knew it was a bad idea to put family pictures on walls—though normally, no one even visited their place and it shouldn’t have mattered but…
Before nostalgia would hit him, Langa cleared his throat and clapped his hands a bit too loud. “Okay, food, shall we?” He had a goofy, high-pitched voice.
Awaken from a trance, Reki turned around with faze. “Oh yeah, food… a good idea.”
They went to the little kitchen, trying to find ingredients for an impromptu meal. If he wouldn’t have been so broke at the moment, Langa would rather have ordered pizza. Cooking wasn’t the first thing occupying his mind, but he hoped Reki felt more creative tonight.
Reki browsed their cupboards. “Noodles and tofu should do it…,” he mumbled to himself. “Or what did you have in mind?”
“Well, you know me.” Langa flashed a lop-sided smile, patting his flat belly. “Anything goes.”
In no time, Reki had made himself home at Hasegawas’ kitchen. Frozen in his place, the hungry Langa felt like he was in his friend’s way in the cramped space. After he had shown Reki where the chopping board was, Langa sat at the dining table, immersing himself in the addictive world of social media. Maybe because he was starving, the scents from the kitchen already watered his mouth. His mind was cottony, his vision foggy—or maybe the hunger situation wasn’t the only reason. It was much easier to blame that though.
In the middle of cooking, Reki lowered his head behind the kitchen hood, enough to see his friend. “Hey, umm, do you happen to have teriyaki sauce somewhere?”
Just after he had checked Joe’s extremely fascinating update about his new workout program, Langa shut his phone down. “Yeah, I’ll show you.” He stood up and when he was closer to the stove he realized the sauce was in the highest cupboard right above Reki—which meant he had to reach out for it very, very close to his friend. Of course, he could have asked Reki to step out a bit, but for whatever mysterious reason, the thought didn’t occur in his mind. A similar one had happened with their shared scooter rides: Langa had kind of forgotten to tell his friend that he didn’t need to lean on him every time they shared a ride—there were handles on the sides, so there was no need to cling to the driver.
It was much nicer though to be huddled to each other, pretending to be a prince and princess having a romantic horseback ride together.
Even with his tall legs, Langa had to be on his toes to reach out the cupboard. Because they had never used it before, the wanted bottle was in the highest place possible—which meant he had to press himself against Reki’s body a bit. He scorched inside yet Langa pretended everything was totally okay—he wondered for a moment if Reki felt the same. At least, he had stopped mixing the ingredients in the frying pan. Shit, was this too disturbing? His crotch pressed against Reki’s…?
That damned bottle in his hand, Langa took a tiny step back. Instead of indicating he had found the missing ingredient, Langa stopped and admired the view. Because it was pretty hot in the apartment, Reki had stripped off from his hoodie, only wearing a tank top—something Langa hoped his friend would wear more often. He had taken his sweaty headband away and had put his hair on a little bun. So much exposed skin. Langa realized that he had never noticed before that Reki had a little, crescent-shaped birthmark on the back of his neck. It sparked an idea—the more Langa thought about it, the better it started to sound.
Langa leaned closer but hesitated. How could he explain this? “Hey, you had something there so I decided to help…?” If he was lucky, Reki wouldn’t even notice anything: he was busy mixing the ingredients in the frying pan.
But it didn’t occur to Langa’s fragile state of mind that even the best plans had the probability to be doomed.
At that point when Langa had closed the distance between them, his lips pursed, the universe had decided that Reki had to turn around. “Hey, thanks m—”
And of course, it meant that the smooch went right to somewhere it shouldn’t have landed: straight to Reki’s lips.
Mayday, emergency landing.
Brain short-circuiting, Langa didn’t realize at first what had happened. Reki’s lips were so soft and this position was somehow… natural; chest to chest, sensing each others’ erratic breaths. He could imagine them staying like this for hours—hell, he had dreamed of kissing Reki so many times he couldn’t keep up. In his dreams, it was smooth and romantic—and it would result in more passionate kissing and cuddling.
But this wasn’t a fairytale: this was real life, in its rawest form.
Somehow, Langa managed to part. In front of him, Reki looked like a lost deer in the headlights—and Langa, he resembled more a too-eager deer after tourists’ cookies in the famous park of Nara. As if he had surrendered, Reki had raised his hands. At least, he hadn’t fallen on the hot stove.
Neither said anything: they panted, tried to catch their breaths, avoiding each other’s eyes.
Panicking, Langa finally handed the bottle to Reki. “H-here you are.”
Hesitantly, as if it were rat poison, Reki took the offered object. He blinked, then cleared his throat before he turned to his cooking again.
The very sweaty and very trembling Langa sat back at the table, took a phone to his hand. A brand new Instagram story from Joe flashed before his eyes but all Langa could think of was: Shit. That worked out very well, oh shit.
When Reki placed chopsticks and two bowls on the table, Langa almost jumped to the ceiling. In no time, a frying pan joined them.
“Okay, this isn’t anything special, but,” Reki said with a tiny voice, “I hope it’s… decent.”
In any other situation, Langa would have cheered his friend up, but nothing came out of his mouth this time. With a cough, he put his phone back in his pocket. The phone-shaped imprint that stood out from the tight jeans amused their friends greatly.
After they had mumbled “kwatchiisabira”* to each other, they started eating, agonizing silence keeping its company. It had landed like a black cloak between them—only one thing could turn into silence. Great. Absolutely great. 10 points, Langa.
Even though it was made from simple ingredients, the food was delicious. What a pity that Langa felt such burning in his stomach: any other day, he would have enjoyed the meal, burped contently, and slouched on the sofa in the end. Now, in case his meal would have been replaced by sawdust he wouldn’t have noticed anything. He still politely said, “This is delicious. You should come to cook here more often.”
Reki let out a strained chuckle. A strand of hair had escaped from his bun and he tucked it behind his ear. “It wasn’t that difficult. My mom used to make a lot of various dishes from leftovers when I was a kid. The secret is the, umm… teriyaki sauce.”
The sauce of doom. Langa slurped the noodles and wondered how a bottle of brown liquid could lead them into this.
The night had started out so promisingly yet here they were.
Langa didn’t know how long their dinner lasted, but his bowl had emptied in its own will. He offered to do the dishes. In the doorway of the kitchen, Reki’s figure appeared, skateboard tucked under his arm. He had put his hoodie on again, hair tamed with the headband.
In secret, Langa had hoped Reki would have stayed over, but since it was late and things had turned… well, they were what they were, it was understandable that he wanted to leave as soon as he could.
“Hey, umm, you coming to S tomorrow?” Reki played with the loose threads of the string of his hoodie. “I heard those new girls are gonna race, so I bet it will be rad. I think at least Shadow and Miya said they are coming as well.”
When Langa wiped the bowls to a towel, he forced a little smile on his features. “Sure. At nine, was it? I can pick you up around 8:15.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Reki shifted from foot to foot—normally, he would have started rambling about the new skaters yet tonight, he remained unusually timid. “Okay, but see you then. I had a good time. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
From a safe distance, Langa’s eyes rested at the retreating back. He pondered the little birthmark that had made him act on a primitive impulse—though in the end, he could only blame himself for this mess.
When he placed the clean bowls back to the unorganized cupboard, Langa realized something: in case he didn’t want to stay on awkward terms with Reki, he had less than 24 hours to try to come up with a solid plan.