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The occasional scritch-scratch of Reki’s mechanical pencil moving haphazardly over his sketchpad disrupted the comfortable silence that swung in the air of Reki’s garage. He was laying on the couch next to Langa, who had been dozing in and out of sleep for the better half of an hour. He protested going to sleep, though, as he said he didn’t want Reki to be bored. Reki would never be bored with him there, although he couldn’t find the words to say that so he left him alone. Langa’s head was resting on his chest, ear pressed against his left pec as he stared at Reki’s sketchbook lazily.
Reki was almost sure he had fallen asleep when his breathing became slower and his arms started to loosen around him, but a chuckle out of Langa startled him. He didn’t seem to notice how abrupt he was because he dismissed his reaction and instead pointed to a drawing in Reki’s sketchbook.
“Why were you drawing me in your clothes?” he asked and oh, Reki really didn’t have a normal explanation for that one. He had been picturing Langa in his clothes more often than not recently and he wanted to draw that to satisfy himself but he couldn’t tell that directly to his muse.
Instead, Reki came up with something on the fly, which he should never do, especially when lying to someone he never wanted to lie to in the first place. “Because Miya asked me to!” Good going, Reki Kyan. Upstanding work. A true masterpiece of a lie. Best one yet.
Just like he expected, Langa moved his head so that he could look him in the eyes. “Why would Miya ask you to draw that?” Yeah, thought Reki, that’s a good question. He didn’t know the answer to that, partially because he’s a horrible liar. Honestly, Pinnochio doesn’t have shit on him.
Either Langa wanted to spare him the embarrassment of being trapped in his own lie or he genuinely didn’t care enough, as he quickly dropped the subject and moved his head back to its original resting place. Reki picked up his pencil, intending to doodle some more, but Langa took hold of the edge of the sketchbook and started to flip through the pages.
Langa was odd like that. He didn’t really understand the concept of personal boundaries or asking permission to touch things. He just seemed to do whatever was on his mind, which Reki admired. It also clearly would occasionally get him into trouble, like that one time he almost died by racing against a borderline-pedophilic twenty-something-year-old. Sometimes, he was just so absent-minded that Reki was sure he would just forget basic concepts. Like that one time where he stole a beach towel from a store while they were on vacation. He had lost his and upon seeing one he liked, he walked out the door with it because he simply forgot to pay for it.
There was a brief pause in Langa’s hand movements as he flipped through his sketchbook, landing on a page filled with… oh. Yeah, Reki needed to figure out how to put a lock on his sketchbook because he was pretty sure he couldn’t take any more mortification and bad lies.
Every inch of the page was filled with Langa, Langa, Langa. Langa sleeping, Langa skateboarding, Langa drinking out of a water bottle, Langa at work, Langa at Sia la Luce, Langa sitting in his bed, Langa in his workshop, Langa eating a popsicle.
Langa, Langa, Langa. That was how his brain felt recently.
“Do you draw me from memory? These are amazing, Reki,” Langa said in awe, just like he usually did. He always seemed to be in awe of Reki, no matter how minor the accomplishment was.
“No, it’s- nah, it’s nothing major, man. You’re easy to draw,” he excused, laughing to ease the odd pressure that had been building in his chest. Reki didn’t know what possessed his mouth at that moment nor did he know what was trying to sabotage him, but without warning he opened his mouth and said, “You’re my favorite thing to draw.”
The instant regret started to creep into his chest as it flowed up his neck, ears and cheeks in the form of a blush. Oh, god, he thought, there’s no coming back from that one. The Langa-esque comment was sure to haunt him for the next five years of his life. He went stone-cold, holding a breath that would only be released once he could wipe his memory of the past few seconds.
Langa didn’t seem to be affected by the abruptness of his confession, as he just smiled and stared at him with those eyes he gave him every now and then. Those eyes that told him he was hanging onto every word he said. “You’re my favorite person to hang out with.”
Reki was so close to running out the door of the garage, never to be seen again. Or maybe he was close to kissing him speechless. He wasn’t sure. “Aw, come on,” Reki spoke to fill the empty air that was boiling with embarrassment. “I’m- don’t be all sappy on me, now. Besides, you’ve got other friends.”
“Yeah, but you’re the only one I really like,” Langa said, the same innocent smile playing on his lips. Yep, yeah, Reki wasn’t going to be able to make it to tomorrow. He was going to pass out right now, on the garage couch that smelt of grease and weed. There were a few odd stains on it, too. He wondered if the police would take the couch as evidence. It would be embarrassing to have ‘Died of Combusted Heart Due To Langa Hasegawa’ on his headstone, though.
Reki only managed to get out a stupid little “I think you’re pretty cool too, dude,” before attempting to move his head so that Langa couldn’t see his beat-red face. Langa was laying on his chest, though, looking up at him with those beautiful blue eyes and there was no escape even if he was miles away from him.
To distract himself, he just allowed his hand to move across the paper of his sketchbook, scribbling messy lines. They eventually formed to make Miya playing on his Nintendo Switch and absolutely destroying Joe at Mario Kart. This was a scene that had been stuck in his head for a bit, since it happened only last weekend when everyone met up at Sia la Luce one night. Miya figured out how to connect his Switch to the small, outdated television Joe had in his office and Reki spent the majority of his night watching Miya absolutely destroy anyone who dared challenge him to an intense game of Mario Kart. (No one, and Reki means no one, should be that good at Rainbow Road.)
Langa snuggled further into Reki’s chest, hugging him tightly. His breath started to slow and Reki debated waking him up or letting him sleep. He didn’t want him to have to ride home on his skateboard so late at night but he also didn’t want to keep him from sleeping. He didn’t want Langa to get up. He wanted him to cling onto him in his sleep, as selfish as it was.
Langa wasn’t his, but he sure as hell wished he was.
Hours go by and eventually, the sun set and only left the one swinging lightbulb buzzing and illuminating a soft glow. Langa had woken up minutes ago, but he had decided to continue quietly resting on Reki. Reki, however, was internally struggling with whether or not he should get up from his position or allow Langa to sleep overnight in the garage.
He was a gentleman, though, and it wouldn’t be very courteous to allow him to sleep overnight in a garage that smelled of weed, grease and sweat. “Langa,” he said, earning a muffled grumble from Langa, who had stuffed his face into the fabric of Reki’s shirt. He almost stopped to coo at him but thought better and continued. “You have to get up, dude. It’s dark outside.” Langa grumbled some more, mumbling incoherent protests, but eventually lifted himself off Reki and rolled over as much as the couch allowed.
“Reki, can we hang out tomorrow?” he asked drowsily, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes as he yawned.
Reki stared at him as he zoned out, staring at the ceiling. Langa was so beautiful as he laid there, hair tucked behind his ears and his slightly chapped lips. He refused to wear chapstick as he hated the feeling of it on his lips. Reki didn’t think he’d mind too much if he kissed him, though. “Of course, man,” he said before Langa got curious at the long pause and decided to look at him.
Langa made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat and nodded, rubbing his hands over his eyes once more and sitting up. He grabbed the edge of the couch, stared off into the distance for a few seconds, and then lunged over Reki to get off the couch. Reki got up after him, stretching his arms up, his shirt moving up his stomach slightly.
“Reki,” Langa said, grabbing his backpack he brought with him whenever he came over. It was usually filled with snacks and homework assignments he rarely did, as they had a lot of free time whenever they hung out together. Lagna’s favorite thing was to either sit in comfortable silence while Reki worked on skateboard commissions from people at S or to listen to him babble on about anything. When Reki acknowledged Langa with a tilt of his head, Langa opened his mouth with sad eyes telling him all he needed to know. “I don’t want to leave.”
And Reki, Reki knew this. He knew this all too well, as it was something he had thought about multiple times before. He never wanted Langa to leave after a long day of doing nothing but he always went home afterwards. Langa never stayed the night as Reki was too afraid of accidentally saying something stupid upon seeing Langa so beautiful first thing in the morning. He wouldn’t be able to control his racing heart at the sight of seeing Langa groggy and pouty because he had been woken up by Reki’s movement.
Reki wanted Langa to stay so, so bad. But he can’t.
“Maybe another day, man. I have to wake up early tomorrow to go grocery shopping,” he said, a poor excuse. He was sure Langa knew it was an excuse by the way he looked at him with those disappointed eyes but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just nodded and put on his usual stoic face and swung his backpack onto his shoulders.
“Okay. Bye, Reki,” he said, stepping out the door of the garage. Reki returned the goodbye and waved at him. He looked back, his tongue and mouth moving to form more words, but they seemed to have gotten lodged in his throat. He stood there for a bit, trying to force his mouth to form the words he was looking for but to no avail. He finally waved back and shut the door behind him with a dull clunk.
Reki was usually confident in himself. He was confident in his ability to teach people how to skateboard. He was confident in his natural craft of making skateboards. He was confident with himself when he taught Langa how to write in Kanji. For some reason, though, as he laid on his couch, loose threads springing out of the slipcover like weeds on a poorly-made sidewalk, he wasn’t feeling very confident.
It wasn’t like he didn’t like Langa. Sometimes, he thought, he liked him a little too much. But Langa had never shown that he wanted to be with Reki in a way best friends aren’t together. And Reki respects that, he really does, but sometimes his mouth likes to move on his own and the way Langa doesn’t flinch, as if it’s normal for them, for Reki to say that Langa is his favorite thing to draw, and Langa responding as if it’s normal, as if it’s normal for them, has his heart racing in his ears.
And Reki doesn’t know if he can keep acting like it’s not normal for them. Because it really isn’t, or at least it shouldn’t be, with the way Langa has never specified his feelings, but then again neither has Reki. He just needs to understand, to make sense of the way Langa sleeps on his chest, the way he calls Reki his favorite person, the way he grumbles when he has to go home, to be away from Reki, and the way he rests his hand over Reki’s as he flips through his sketchbook that, at this point, should have a lock on it.
All of this mattered too much to Reki, he presumed. He wished he could just be a normal best friend and let all of that slide like Langa does. Reki wished he could just let Langa snuggle into him without wanting something more.
But Reki was tired. He exhausted himself too much by thinking about what he can’t have and all he wanted at that moment was to fall asleep to escape from his thoughts.
A sharp, earsplitting ring that made him sick woke him from his light sleep on the couch. The side of his face was wet with drool and he cringed at the feeling, wiping it off with the back of his hand. The ring sounded again, this time more clearly and Reki realized it was his phone.
His hand searched around the couch blindly as if he needed glasses. His fingers brushed against a cold piece of metal and his hand dove for it, eventually pulling his phone out from the crack in the couch cushion.
Without looking at the contact, too caught up in his small victory and too relieved over finding the phone before the call declined itself, he accepted the call. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice crackly from being woken up so suddenly. He cleared his voice and said, “What’s up?”
There was silence on the other end of the call and for a moment he thought he had been butt dialed. Right before he was about to decline the call, Langa’s sweet voice drifted into his ears. “Hi, Reki. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
Reki sighed, running a hand down his face. He rubbed the eye boogers from his eyes and asked, “Yeah, what time is it?”
“2:34 A.M.”
“Of course you woke me, Langa.” Reki said, chuckling softly into the phone. There was no response on the other end but a part of him didn’t expect one. “What’s going on? Why’d you call?” he asked but then quickly remembered how Langa liked to take his words out of context. “I don’t mind, but are you okay?”
There was another long pause on Langa’s end of the line. He opened his mouth to repeat his question but Langa spoke before he could. “Reki,” he whispered as if his name was a sin, a promise and a pact. “I think I’m going crazy. I don’t understand anything I feel and it’s scary, Reki. I’m really scared. I wish I wasn’t but I’m calling you right now. Can you believe that?” There was a sort of dry amusement that permeated his sentences as he spoke. He didn’t make sense yet Reki had an inkling that Langa didn’t understand what he himself meant, either.
“Dude, what are you talking about?” Reki asked into the phone, concerned.
Langa kept talking, though, almost as if he hadn’t heard him speak. “Reki, will you be with me forever? Infinitely?” And, God, Langa picked the perfect time to be sappy. Despite this behavior being unusual for him, flirting at two in the morning was jarringly a Langa thing to do.
Fighting a blush that he wouldn’t even be able to see, Reki cleared his throat. “Of course, man. Why are you asking me this at two in the morning?”
“I think you’re really great, Reki. I think you’re awesome. And you’re the best person I've met. And you helped me. And you’re there when you should be. And I…” he muttered something in English under his breath, too quick and too light for Reki to pick up on it. He was fighting a blush but was too nervous to interrupt him. What would he even say back?
“I’ve got a crush on you, Reki. I love you, I love you a lot and I don’t-” Reki leaned into the phone, hoping to hear the rest of Langa’s inevitable sentence.
But it never came.
“Langa?” he whispered into the phone as if he was quiet enough, the words would come floating out of the speaker. He pulled his phone away from his ear and his stomach dropped, horrified to see the white Loading Wheel of Doom glaring back at him that told him his phone was shutting off. He wondered if he had done anything wrong in recent months to make God hate him. He briefly considered going to pray at a local shrine.
He put his phone back to his ear. “Langa?”
He knew it was fruitless and yet, as he started to become increasingly panicked, he yelled Langa’s name into his phone as if it would somehow make its way to him.
“ Shit! ” he yelled, maybe a bit too loud in a house full of sleeping people. Yet, he didn’t have time to care about the consequences as he slipped his phone into his pant pocket, grabbed his skateboard and ran out the front door, barely giving himself time to hop on the skateboard before making it down the road, anxiety and terror in tow.
The night air was, arguably, more stressful than it should be. Usually, Reki loved skating around town after dusk with Langa, not a care in the world. It was quiet and calm, the chirping of crickets filling the air with a buzz as wind whipped through his hair, making it even more messy than it always was.
However, all those noises and feelings felt suffocating as he pushed against the hard asphalt, body thrumming with anticipation. A convenience store, open 24/7, caught his eye as he rode past it. Reki swore he was working on Langa brain because he decided to stop for snacks for him.
The cashier was a tired, drained-of-energy college student that didn’t look up from his phone when the bell on the door rang as Reki entered the store. He made a beeline for any snacks he thought he would like, paying for them with the spare change he had floating around in his pockets he rarely emptied.
With a grocery bag on one arm and a head full of nervousness, he found himself outside Langa’s apartment ten minutes later. Of course, now he had to figure out how to get Langa outside. There was absolutely no way he was going to knock on his apartment door at nearly three in the morning, as this was the only time his mother slept.
Reki started to think that God didn’t hate him too much, because he caught a rusty fire escape in the corner of his eye. A smile spread across his face as he put his skateboard under his arm and went up the small, rickety stairs as quietly as he could so as to not wake up any tenants.
He stopped at a room that looked uniquely like Langa’s, the walls covered in skateboarding and snowboarding posters. He caught a glimpse of his skateboard, leaned against the furthest wall by the door. It was just as clean as Langa was which made the big pile of pillows and comforters stand out even more. There was a faint light coming from under it and Reki almost backed out of approaching him.
The knock on the window still came, though, and Reki startled before he realized that it was himself who made the sound, his knuckles resting against the cool glass. He knocked again and then whisper-yelled “Langa!” loud enough for him to hear. After all, hanging up on Langa and making him think there was an intruder at his window probably would get him in even more shit than he already was.
The mass of linen shifted, ever so slightly, and a tuft of blue hair shadowed by the dim lamp light peeked through. He kept there for a few moments before scrambling to turn on another lamp light, illuminating his room in crisp light.
Almost stumbling over himself, Langa made it to the window, almost pressed right against it. His hair was disheveled, far from the usual neatness it was. Blotches of red laid on his cheeks, nose, ears and on the rims of his eyes. If Reki didn’t know what had happened, he would think he was sick. But there was something else that laid in his facial features.
Langa was hurt. The vice grip on the blanket and the tears about to fall out of his told him so. The sight of Langa alone made him feel relief and absolute, gut-wrenching anxiety.
Slowly, as if he thought Reki was a ghost, he opened his window, pushing on the glass to go outwards. Reki moved out of the way, just narrowly missing the swinging window. He briefly wondered if that was on purpose.
Neither of them said anything for a few moments as they both stared at each other, both having different emotions in their eyes. Langa opened his mouth to speak the first word, but then his mouth shut. Then, after a pause, he opened it again. “What are you doing here,” he rattled off.
His voice was rough like new sandpaper, Reki wincing as the words spewed out of his mouth. That was the first time Langa had ever sounded remotely angry at him, he was pretty sure. The thought alone made him sick to his stomach.
“Listen, okay, I know you don’t want to,” Reki said, holding up a hand which Langa looked about ready to sever from his wrist. “But I have a great reason! No, no that makes me sound like an asshole. Listen, okay, what happened was we were having a nice conversation and shit, you know, yeah, you were there! Well, my phone died and I was like ‘oh, shit, hopefully Langa won’t be mad at me!’ but then I realized you probably will be, so I was like ‘oh, shit, I should probably go to his apartment to make sure he doesn’t hate me!’ And then I came over here. Well, that was before I got snacks, also, I got you snacks!” Reki finished, handing out the bag of snacks to Langa.
Thankfully, he took the bag. Langa didn’t look extremely hurt anymore but rather there was a certain type of fondness that swirled around in his eyes. His eyes almost seemed to relax as he stared at him, a small smile on his lips.
“Reki,” he said and the sandpapery texture to his voice was no longer, now replaced with a soft tone. “I was so worried. I thought you were going to hate me. I thought you lied to me about being with me forever. I’m sorry,” he said, taking a deep breath to collect himself before continuing. “I’ll never say those things like that again, I promise. But please be with me for infinity.” A stray tear escaped his eyes and Reki bit his bottom lip, resisting the urge to cry with him.
He leaned back and Langa lurched forward, hand instinctively reaching out towards him. He stopped moving and paused for Langa to crawl through the open window, placing both feet on a step of the fire escape. Reki made room for him and Langa placed the bag of food on the step before the one they were sitting on.
Langa, God langa, always so clingy, even though he thought Reki was going to leave him, he couldn’t keep his space. His body was practically pressed against Reki’s, warm. He was a stark contrast to the cool night air that blew through his clothes and kissed his skin with a brisk chill.
“Langa,” Reki said, the rest of the sentence drifting off. He took that as a warning, though, because he moved away from him. That didn’t amount to much, as they were both sitting on a stairway barely big enough for the both of them.
Reki puts his hand over Langa’s, which was resting between them. Slowly, deliberately, Langa turned his hand around and closed it around Reki’s, holding tight once he realized he wasn’t going to pull away.
The night air, for once in the night, felt calming as he finally allowed him to think since he had been woken up. Langa tried to confess to him. He did confess to him, and Reki was here holding hands with him.
Langa was his best friend, the boy he spent his school days with and the boy he would spend every minute with if he was able. The boy he had been pining over for months and had just now realized it a few weeks ago. Reki’s head was close to exploding as he realized Langa liked him back.
Langa liked him back.
“Oh, my God, Langa,” he whispered under his breath, squeezing his hand tighter. “My phone died,” he said, as if it was the key to everything. In some ways, it was.
“Yes, I know, you said that.”
“My phone died, Langa! I’m here now!” he said, a little too excited for it being so early in the morning. “Langa, I love you, too! Romantically, as in I want to be boyfriends, dude!” he exclaimed, unwrapping their hands to shake Langa by the shoulders.
Langa’s face morphed into five different emotions at once, finally settling on a mix between ecstatic and confused. Reki wanted to say something again, anything, maybe another ‘I love you’ or a ‘boyfriends?’ Langa lunged forward and before he could react, he pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before pulling away quickly as if his skin burned his lips.
He froze, and maybe for too long as the color from Langa’s face started to drain and he looked as if he wanted to run. Reki moved his hand towards his again and wrapped his fingers around his hand in an iron grip. Slowly, he moved towards him, almost as if he was asking for permission. The second Langa’s eyes fluttered shut he pressed his lips to Langa’s and relished in the taste of him.
His slightly chapped lips scraped against his as they moved ever so slightly, Langa’s body practically melting into him as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, Reki pulling him in closer. They broke apart after what felt like both hours and seconds.
Langa’s eyes opened slowly again, his gaze now soft and hazy just like one of the lamp bulbs that burned lazily in his room. “You’re great, Langa.”
“You’re great, too, Reki.”
And Langa’s so beautiful, just sitting there in his arms. And he's always been beautiful. Always. Constantly. He fell in love with him without meaning to.
He wanted to have a best friend who was there for him, who understood and who comforted him and he got a boyfriend out of that. Well, probably. They hadn’t talked about that yet.
But it was enough for Reki. Being with him was enough for Reki. Kissing him was more than enough. Holding his hand on the rusty fire escape was more than enough. And Reki, Reki loved Langa. He loved him so, so much and he wasn’t sure how or why or what that meant about his sexuality or their future but he does.
And it might be childish love, from the way his heart beats erratically just by looking at him smile, the same way he’s smiling right now, but it’s enough.
And he loved it. And he loved Langa.