Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Langa feels a rush through him as he turns his skateboard to the side for an abrupt stop and feels it continue to ebb through him from the cheers around him, “Snow, Snow, Snow!” 

“Langa!” 

He perks up and more feels that see Reki jumping on him and wrapping his arms around from Langa’s back. 

Times like this, where he is so fully in the moment, are his favorite. 

He can feel the scrape of grip tape, the pounding in his chest, the dig of Reki’s jewelry into his back and hip. He can feel every pump of his heart as it sends hot blood through his body and every breath as it expands and deflates his chest. He smiles. 

He laughs. He throws his head back with crinkles eyes and reaches his arms around to pseudo-hug Reki. 

He looks up at the sky, spattered with white, less affected by pollution and smog in a far out, secluded spot such as S. The moon shines brightly above, standing poised and mighty-  

Adam flying down from the sky, quick, unpredictable, and destructive. Like a tornado. Bouquet in hand, outstretched to Langa. The vague worry that he might get pricked, maybe it’s just roses but it seems worse. Maybe it’s just roses now, but who knows what comes later? The light from Adam’s helicopter is blinding, obscuring his vision, making dots flit across his eyeline, he can barely see what’s right in front of him as he reaches out to take the bundle of flowers, their fingers brush-  

“Hey bro, wanna go get some food to celebrate?” 

Reki’s voice rings in his ear from right beside him. He falters for a moment, 

“Huh?”’ 

Reki giggled, 

“I saaaaaid, do you want to get some food to celebrate your win against piss hair mcgee over there?” 

He points to a guy with shaggy, brass-yellow hair, 

“I mean, he does know what toner is, right? And that he can use it?” 

Langa chuckles. Reki shrugs, 

“But back to food, I know you’re like, drunk or high off your win or whatever, Mr. ‘my-head-is-always-in-the-clouds', but let’s go somewhere!” 

Langa smiles, 

“Of course, I’ll go get some food with you guys. Where did you want to go?” 

Reki pumps his fist in the air with a small ‘yes’ of victory. He pats Langa on the cheek affectionately and chuckles at the perturbed expression he gets for it. 

“Sooooo, I was thinking of going to that burger place since you seem to like those, but we both know that Miya wouldn’t eat anything and Cherry would only take two bites before calling it quits, so insTEAD I found this ramen shop. I hear it’s really good, and it looks like they also have udon which I know you prefer-” 

Reki continues to ramble on, making all sorts of expressions and waving his hands every which way, and Langa continues to nod and smile. He grabs his skateboard and they walk back to the group and messes around with the wheels. 

He gets one last look at the sky glancing up and seeing no helicopter, so ladder and no man. Just the moon. 

Chapter Text

The S family is meandering around on a hot Okinawan day. Miya with these dumb Mario-themed sunglasses that he wears only semi-ironically, Kojiro with sunblock streaked his nose like white gauche paint, Kaoru with his (slightly excessive) get up of yukata and sunhat and parasol, Reki with sweat collecting in his headband, and Langa. He’s just chillin’.  

Reki holds out a vanilla soft serve towards Langa’s face. Langa’s eyes cross to look at it.  

“Here, have some! It’s gonna melt if I don’t eat it quick enough, but I know you should have no problem with that.”  

There is a small smirk at the end of his sentence, but Langa chooses to ignore it in favor of taking a lick. Reki was right—it was already melting and they had only gotten it just a few minutes ago.   

In the back of his mind, Langa gets reminded of the part in Ponyo where the mom licks the melting soft serve in the car right after Ponyo was taken by her dad.  

He takes the cone from Reki’s hand,  

“Promise me you won’t ever nearly drive off of a cliff because of soft serve.”  

Reki’s eyebrows furrow but he smiles all the same with a small chuckle.  

“Wasn’t exactly planning on it, but sure, dude. I promise.”  

Langa nodded and took another lick of the ice cream. A bit of the swirl on top managed to get on his nose. Miya pointed,  

“Look, now you’re matching with Kojiro!”  

Kojiro scoffs in annoyance,  

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t want to get burnt?! Unlike some of us here, I actually take care of my looks.”  

Kaoru rolls his eyes from behind his fan,  

“One might say you care a little too much. You do know you don’t have to try and strive towards Michealangelo’s David every day of your life, right?”  

“As if you can be talking, Dracula! Fight me with those soba noodle-lookin' arms of yours! Or maybe you’ll just sink your fangs into my neck and suck my blood, you fucking vampire!”  

Langa leans in closer to Reki and Miya,  

“How long do you think until they realize how gay these insults are...?”  

Reki shrugs,  

“I give them a couple years.”  

Miya snorts,  

“Bold of you to assume they’re gonna realize at all.”  

“That’s fair.”  

A flash of blue.  

Langa startles, tripping over himself and crashing against the concrete.  

“Woah, dude, you alright,”  

He can hear Reki call from above him. He shakes his head,  

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m all good.”  

Langa looks upward and sees a blue haired man in the distance wearing a red suit talking with a group of others, holding a tall, wide glass of some sort of alcohol-  

The mysterious man of fable appeared, seemingly out of thin air, twirling about. He had gone as quickly as he had come, but the time between lasted an eternity. Air stretched to fill the space and choke him out, suffocate him with the man’s mere presence. He didn’t know what was happening—who this man was, or why everyone was freaking out about him. He doesn’t know, but he feels bad—  

“Langa, you need help...?”  

Reki’s voice fists his hair and yanks him back into reality. He scrambles up, brushing of his clothes and shaking the pebbles pressed into his palms back onto the ground,  

“Nope, no I’m all good. I guess it’s just really hot today.”  

Reki looks at him a little longer than what would probably be considered normal,  

“Okaayyyy, if you say so. You can tell me later if you want to, though.”  

Langa shakes his head,  

“No, it’s really nothing—don't worry about it. Let’s just eat some ice cream and-”  

Langa’s eyebrows furrow,  

“Wait, where is the ice cream?”  

Miya looks at him funny,  

“Where the fuck do you think, ya bozo?”  

He points to the ground a couple feet in front of where Langa fell. There lies the mangled corpse of what was once cold, refreshing, delicious soft serve vanilla ice cream on a sugar cone. Something in Langa deflates slightly.  

Ruining this too, are you Adam?  

Langa shrugs his shoulders, although he finds he somehow just forgot what a ‘normal’ shrug is supposed to look like,  

“Eh, it’s fine. We’ll buy another cone.”  

Before Reki can say something, —which he looks like he is—Miya smirks and turns to Hiromi,  

“Hiromi...?”  

“No. Absolutely not.”  

“Oh, come on!”  

Langa doesn’t bother to pick up the garbage and throw it away properly. He doesn’t want to look at it a moment longer.  

Chapter Text

The sound of metal hanger on metal rack serve as background noise as Langa turns to Miya,

“You can’t just live in that sweater, you know.”

“Watch me, bitch.”

“I did watch you. I watched you fall off your skateboard and say that your vision was going dark.”

“It’s not my fault it’s so hot here!”

“That’s not the point. At all.”

Langa pointedly ignores Miya’s eye roll and turns back towards the clothing.

It’s one of the rare days he spends time with Miya without Reki there, out at some art thing. The demon cat’s parents (both biological and skate-induced) aren’t  there either.

“You forget you don’t actually have nine lives—please take care of this one.”

“I told you, I’m fucking fine, bootleg Elsa.”

Langa rolls his eyes and continues flicking through the rack.

“Oh, and Miya, quit messing with your mask.”

“Okay, but real quick, Langa, Langa look, Langa look at me,”

Langa finally looks over and, with the absolute stupidest, most shit-eating grin ever, Miya flips up his hood and snaps his bright red mask from him mouth up over his eyes,

“Amogus.”

A bright red mess, shooting out in sharp fractals all around Adam’s face as he swoops in towards Langa. This one moment feels like forever, not just seeing but physically feeling the way he comes into the suffocate Langa—he is compressing the air to tightening together and around Langa, forcing his shoulder up and tensing his muscles up tight. The mask oppresses him—why is Adam wearing a mask around his eyes? To hide his identity, of course. Because skating would ruin his reputation, right? Because setting his hands across young boys’ bodies would ruin his reputation, right? Because this is wrong. This is wrong, right?

“Langa?”

Langa draw a sharp breath in,

“Huh?”

“You slime didn’t laugh at my hilarious joke.”

Langa glances to the side. There’s something in Miya’s tone he can’t quite detect.

“Oh…sorry. Um, haha. It was funny.”

Miya’s mask is back in it’s place, but even with half of his face covered he looks worried.

“You…kinda spaced out a bit. Is-…Langa?”

Langa looks at Miya. He doesn’t know what else to do.

“Yes?”

Miya shakes his head,

“Nothing, I was just making sure you…still down on Earth. You looked like you weren’t paying attention.”

Langa shakes his head back at Miya in the same way,

“No no, I’m paying attention.”

Miya just looks on for more moments than Langa is entirely comfortable with. He tries to diffuse it,

“I just really hate among us jokes.”

Miya keeps looking at him.

Miya turns to the clothes and begins flipping through the clothes without really looking at them,

“Y’know, it’s fine if it’s something else. You’ve dealt with a lot—y’know? It’s okay if you don’t feel great…”

Langa doesn’t give a response, although he himself is not sure whether it’s because he does not want to or because he does not know how. Or what he would say.

Either way, after pausing for a few moments, Miya seemingly picks right back up where he left off,

“But what isn’t okay is you hating among us jokes. They are Peak Humor.”

Langa scoffs,

“Okay, child.”

“I AM NOT. A CHILD!!”

“Aww, baby’s throwing a temper tantrum? You want some milk?”

“The only milk I get is from your mo-“

“That doesn’t even make sense! Plus, you know my mom.”

“So?”

“So, it’s weird if you actually know my mom.”

“Yeah, I know her very well~”

“I’m not comfortable hearing a child make sex jokes.”

Langa begins to walk towards the shorts section, laughing a little inside at what he almost swears is the sound of a cat hissing.

He tries to keep the frown off of his face, even though nobody would even be able to see it through his mask.

He thinks of Adam’s lips. He doesn’t know their feel, but he knows their look.

He hates it.

Chapter Text

Langa leans lazily against Reki’s side, his lips slightly parted, half asleep. Miya scowls,  

“Dude, he’s, like, totally drooling on you.”  

“I know, isn’t he so cute?”  

“…I’m never dating. Anyone. Ever.”  

Cherry points his fan at Miya,  

“Good kid. Smart kid, right there.”  

Kojiro swoops into the main dining area from the kitchen in the back, apron still on and sweat still in his brow,  

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that. You’re lucky these plates already have food on them, or else I’d be smashing them over your head.”  

Kaoru calls over the edge of the booth, loud enough and smug enough that Kojiro can hear as he goes back in the kitchen to grab the rest of plates,  

“That’s spousal abuse! I’ll cops the cops on your ass.”  

Kojiro re-enters carrying the last of the plates and enough chopsticks for everyone,  

“Fine, but I get the kids in the divorce.”  

Kojiro absentmindedly passes the bundle of chopsticks to Kaoru, who takes it while firing back,  

“Whoever said anything about a divorce!”  

Kaoru scoffs as he picks out his chopsticks from the pile and starts handing out everyone’s correspondent pairs,  

“Besides, even if we did go separate ways, they’d still want to see the both us of. It would be the equivalent of a joint custody, obviously.”  

Hiromi looks at them weird,  

“You guys do know they have actual parents, right?”  

Kaoru smirks at Hiromi through the top of his glasses,  

“‘Them’? What makes you think you’re not included in this?”  

“WAH- PSTPF—I’m not a kid! I’M ONLY A FEW YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU!”  

Kojiro sits down next to Kaoru, who habitually slides over to make room for him,  

“But you are still younger. Come to think of it, that’s no way to talk to your seniors. Maybe we should start making you use ‘san’ for us…”  

Kaoru laughs into his plate of ravioli. Hiromi grumbles,  

“I am absolutely not using ‘san’ for you guys.”  

Kojiro raises an eyebrow,  

“Fine then, how about…’senpai’?”  

Miya barks out a laugh next to Hiromi. Langa softly flinches and Reki covers his boyfriend’s ear gently with the hand not holding chopsticks.  

“NO. YOU TWO ARE NOT MY SENPAI’S.”  

Kaoru gasped,  

“Hiromi, that is such a rude way to talk to Kojiro senpai! Apologize right now!”  

“KAORU, NO.”  

“That’s Kaoru-senpai to you, young man.”  

“ARGH!”  

Hiromi grumpily leans back in his seat as he shoves ravioli into his mouth. Miya giggles.   

Reki turns to Langa and softly taps him on the back,  

“langa~~…wake uuuUUuupp~~…”  

Langa grumbles from the back of his throat.  

“Langa, food’s ready-“  

Reki gets cut off by Langa gripping his arm and pushing himself up in a flash. Reki laughs,  

“So, now you’re awake!”  

Langa sluggishly nods and goes to pick up his chopsticks, but his grip isn’t strong enough and they slip from his hand.  

“…I think I’m gonna go get a fork…”  

“Okay buddy, you go do that,”  

Reki chuckles as Langa gets up from his seat and drags himself to the kitchen.   

The air in the kitchen is still hot from cooking, and it wakes him up slightly as he takes note of it.  

Staggering to where he knows Kojiro keeps the silverware, he lazily pulls open the drawer.  

He rummages around slightly until he sees the forks, and grabs one at random. He still has enough mind to pick one of the smaller ones, though—he’s not that far gone yet.  

He pushes the drawer closed with a small jut of his hips and listens as the wheels inside roll softly. There is no wood against wood sound—Kojiro has those special drawers that slow when they’re about to close, Langa remembers. Fancy little Kojiro.  

He lifts his head up, ready to head back and eat so he can finally go to sleep, when a picture frame catches his eye.   

It pulls him in, and he, almost like an afterthought, draws closer, feet sluggish.  

A simple dark brown picture frame, nothing particularly special. Pretty normal size, and propped upright, depicting Kaoru, Kojiro, and another man as teenagers-  

Adam with his arm wrapped around Langa’s shoulders. Langa can’t help but think how grateful he is that his go-to outfit has long sleeves—the thought of feeling his arm against his skin—no. No. Langa doesn’t know what’d he do if he were forced to feel the man’s skin, the human skin, the proof that this is another living, breathing, person, with hot blood running through veins, that this is not just a monster he can scare away, that this is far more complex and confusing that that-  

“Langa?”  

“Huh...?”  

Langa turns around sluggishly, his eyelids struggling in their fight against gravity.  

“You were taking quite a long time, so I came to check on you.”  

“...oh.”  

Kaoru stood across from him, tall and poised as always. There’s a look on his face that Langa can’t quite decipher, with pinched eyebrows and downcast eyes.  

“Are you-…  

Kaoru trails off, hand stuck midair in an uncertain gesture. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in,  

“Are you alright?”  

Langa blinks, and while he doesn’t mean to glance at the picture again, his brain is barely functioning right now and he does anyway. He swallows and turns back to Kaoru,  

“Yeah...I’m fine.”  

Kaoru raises an eyebrow. He softly pads closer to Langa, slowing down slightly when he notices the way Langa backs up and draws in on himself, like a drawstring bag pulled shut.  

Langa turns his head away when he feels Kaoru lift his hand up, but feels a little foolish afterwards when he realizes Kaoru is just reaching for the photo.  

“This was here?”  

Langa nods silently. Kaoru hums.  

“...it’s okay, y’know. If you keep seeing him...even when he isn’t there.”  

Langa blinks owlishly.  

“What...do you mean?”  

Kaoru rolls his eyes,  

“You know exactly who-that sonic the hedgehog lookin’ motherfucker. You’re not the only one he...”  

Kaoru sighs,  

“Just because he changed does not mean his tastes did along with him,”  

Kaoru looks Langa up and down,  

“Unfortunately.”  

Langa’s slow mind can’t figure out exactly what Kaoru means by that, or why it nonetheless still makes a lump form in his throat.  

“I’m sorry, Kaoru...”  

“What are you apologizing for?”  

Langa doesn’t have a response. Kaoru sighs,  

“You don’t have to answer that. And you don’t have to stay up—Kojiro will lend you the spare room to sleep in until Reki is ready to take you home.”  

Kaoru continues under his breathe,  

“Right after he explains why the fuck he even has this shit up in the first place.”  

Langa would say something—maybe something to try and save future-Kojiro's ass—if not for way Kaoru’s arms swoop around him and wrap him up like wings, letting him lean in close and finally fall asleep to the smell of clean linen and the rhythm of a strong, steady heartbeat.  

Chapter Text

The sun comes down on the group of boys, sitting on the curb drenched in sweat that makes their colored-coded soccer jerseys stick to their torsos.  

“I’m back!”  

Langa, on the very end of the little line, looks back to see Reki walking back, assorted drinks balanced in his arms. Reki smiles back.  

“Okay, one pocari sweat , one calupisu , one CC Lemon, one lemon tea, and one black tea!”  

Toma reaches his hand out and takes one of the calupisu ,  

“Thanks man, this sun is brutal.”  

Reki nods as he hands one of the pocari to Sho, who takes is with a sigh,  

“Yeah, we totally owe you one.”  

“Oh, don’t worry about it! I’m just glad the vending machine is working this time around—I’d sob if it ate my 200 yen again!”  

Reki plops down into his spot next to Langa, wordlessly opening the green tea for him before passing it over and going to take a sip from his bottle of CC Lemon.  

“Oooh, damn!”  

Langa looks owlishly in the direction Sho is looking, bringing the drink away from his mouth.  

The girls are running their own soccer drills, charging up and down the field as the captain screams plays.  

Toma snickers,  

“Sho, acting like a dog again. Man, keep it in your pants!”  

Reki cocks his head to the side,  

“Hmm? What?”  

Hikaru rolls his eyes with a scoff,  

“It’s nothing—Sho has just had his eyes on the transfer student for a bit now.”  

“How can you blame me! She’s hot, and exotic —she came from somewhere in the west.”  

Sho sighs, taking a sip of his pocari before turning to Langa,  

“Kinda like you, actually. Did you know her back then?”  

Langa blinks.  

“The west is huge, y’know...she’s not even from my country.”  

“Well, wherever she’s from, can you put in a good word for me? Don’t think I haven’t seen you talking to her,”  

Sho leans in conspiratorially, and Langa gets a bad feeling in his gut,  

“Tell me, how far have you gotten with her?”  

Langa blinks again,  

“Huh?”  

Hikaru sighs again,  

“Sho, knock it off.”  

Sho throws his hands up as if in surrender,  

“What? What am I doing?”  

“You know exactly what you’re doing, you pig,”  

Toma turns to Langa,  

“He wants to know if you guys have ever...y’know...”  

Langa just stares with his eyebrows furrowed, still confused. So, of course, he turns where he always does when he needs answers,  

“Reki? What are they talking about? Is this a Japanese thing I don’t get.”  

Reki looks away, face ablaze,  

“No, not—not exactly-”  

Hikaru throws his hands up,  

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Langa, Sho’s just being nasty and is asking if you guys have done anything sexual together.”  

Langa splutters, tripping over his words in English and Japanese,  

“No, it’s nothing like that! She just knows I also immigrated, and we’re both haafu, and we talk about it sometimes. About how different it is.”  

Sho rolls his eyes,  

“Sure, whatever you say. And all of that is in English, because...?”  

“I’m the only person she knows here that speaks fluent English, well, other than her parents, so we talk in English cause...it makes her less homesick, maybe? Or maybe she’s just more comfortable in English? I dunno, it’s just something we do.”  

“Mhm, sure, Langa.”  

Langa takes another sip of his drink, wanting this whole thing to just end already. Unfortunately, it seems like Sho has some other plans,  

“If I were you, I would not be wasting my chance like that. I mean, look at her!”  

He points out into the field, where she kicks the ball straight into the net and scores a goal. She throws her arms up and jumps up and down in celebration, reminding Langa a little of those popping toys that turn inside out then jump off of the table.  

“Look at her tits! Western girls always have bigger boobs.”  

Langa squirms on the curb, taking another sip of his green tea. Reki scoots a little closer to him. Langa sees Hikaru send a look to Toma, who pointedly ignores it. Sho, in his unending wisdom, continues,  

“I mean, Langa, it's nice that you’re trying to be all gentlemanly with her, but if I were you, I’d just get her alone in some classroom and let loose, do whatever I want-”  

“Sho, knock it off.”  

“What, Hikaru? Oh, I know! You’d rather I do it in public, where everyone—especially you—could see-”  

Eyes, eyes, oppressive eyes, some filled with worry, some filled with pity, but Langa can’t help but think some are filled with sick curiosity. Why else would they watch? Why else would they bore their beady, black, void, empty eyes at the scene before them? He’s been stripped bare, he’s been attacked, he’s been gutted, and everyone is just watching. They can see his heart on the floor, and they can see the smirk on his face, they can see his body against him, they can see his hands on him, they can see it all, they can see him, they can see him in all of his damaged, filthiness-  

“Will you shut the fuck up, Sho?!”  

Langa flinches at the yell, coming back to the moment with his fingers gripped around the plastic so hard dents keep spreading along the bottle’s side.  

Hikaru is faced towards Sho with something in his eyes.  

“What the fuck, dude?! Chill out!”  

Langa glances down at his drink, the condensation trailing down his fingers. He jumps—oh, it’s just Reki, with a comforting hand on his forearm and a soft whisper,  

“Do you wanna leave?”  

Langa moves his eyes around frantically—Sho's incredulous face, Hikaru’s indiscernible eyes, the girls’ celebratory moves, the sun’s indifferent shining. It’s all so much, it’s all too much—  

“I’m taking that as a yes.”  

Reki looks towards the rest of the group, lips suddenly in a lop-sided smile that screamed carelessness loud enough to cover the distress just underneath,  

“Hey guys, we’re gonna head out--”  

“Chill out?!”  

The other three, however, seem to still be engrossed in their current spectacle,  

“ You’re the one being a fucking creep, you need to chill out!”  

“Um, Hikaru, don’tcha think that maybe you’re overreacting a little bit—”  

“I’m not overreacting to anything—if anything, you’re underreacting!”  

“Oh, come on, Sho’s just like this, he’s just being himself—”  

“Yeah, well, maybe he should stop.”  

The silence stretches over the boys like a humid day.  

Langa gets turned towards Reki again when he feels a tug at his sleeve, Reki already standing with the sun backlighting his pinched face.  

Langa is dragged up from his place on the concrete, stumbling a little before catching himself.  

Reki’s hand trails down from his sleeve to his hand, holding it gently as he led them both in the opposite direction.  

Langa hears Reki’s panting, and it’s only then he hears his own breath, and realizes they’re walking faster than normal. Leaves crunch under their urgent feet.  

Reki swoops behind a building,  

“Better?”  

Langa blinks at him a couple times.  

The fresh air clears the fog from his mind as he breathes. He nods, although it feels robotic, like a machine being directed by a circuit board.  

Langa closes his eyes and breathes.  

Chapter Text

Langa falls back against the bed, feeling the mattress creak under him as Reki climbs on top. Lips press against his and he feels a small hum slip out.

They instinctually pull each other closer, connecting all over. Langa, practically subconsciously, lifts his legs up to wrap around Reki’s middle. He does the same thing with his arms around Reki’s neck; eyes closed and focusing on the feeling of Reki.

Reki, Reki, everything Reki.

Reki surrounds him in this small pocket of a moment. It’s just them, alone together, expanding to fit into every nook and cranny and crack of the four walls around them.

They kiss, and somehow the generic sounds of panting and lips smacking become ever so personal, so special to just them and what they have.

Langa reaches a hand up, absentmindedly twining the headband between his fingers. He pull it out and he feels the hair fall forward, but he quickly cards through the sun-burnt strands and pushes them out of the way.

A small grunt parts Reki’s lips at the sensation, and Langa takes the opportunity to peck Reki’s cheek softly. He moves down: the back of his jaw, the junction of head and jaw, the hollow of collarbone. Small nips and licks and sucks just below the collar that make Reki whine and even, occasionally, squirm.

Eventually, Langa feels a hand on his calf and thigh, running up and down his leg. He bucks up slightly at the feeling of the denim rubbing against his skin, breath hitching slightly with a flutter of his eyelids and a satisfied hum-

Adam, hands hovering around his leg on the idle skateboard, a strange tense air seemingly emitting from the man’s fingertips and palms, despite not even making contact-

Langa blinks.

Its quickly distracted from, however, when calloused palms untuck his shirt and creep up his stomach, rolls of fat suddenly feeling suffocated under the layers of fabric.

He pauses to push himself up, briefly leaning back on one hand before swinging his legs around under him and then pushing himself up. He delights in the not-fully-there look on Reki’s face, smirking slightly with half-lidded eyes as the other boy languidly follows his movements. Reki follows with more than just his eyes, the entire body being pulled as if on a string, pushing himself up through an all-fours position and ending on his knees with legs in a “w”. Langa lazily pushes himself up and rests down on his boyfriend's lap, straddling him.

Langa feels unbelievably comfortable as Reki looks up at him, his boyfriend’s gaze switching between eyes and lips. Though, Langa can’t say he’s acting any different.

They surge forward and join in a kiss again, and Langa feels arms wrap around his middle and trail up to rest in the space between his shoulder blades-

Adam, pulling close and squeezing him into a love hug. His body feels less like the self and more like a dissociative place of inhabitance. Skin is being suffocated alive, breath against his cheek is entirely too warm, vibrations from the man’s vocal cords seems to be all consuming as they run through his body-

Langa curls.

He presses his face into the crook of Reki’s neck and breaths deeply. Maybe if he does the thoughts will leave with the hot air as he exhales.

He is now conscious of every beat of his heart, can practically feel the contractions pushing blood through his body as the hand traces from his back down his sides.

Langa feels a pressure against his hip, a finger pushing in the space between the rock of his pelvic bone and tight grip of his belt-

Adam, spinning him around by his hip. Everything about it is so disorienting: no direction, no space, no understanding of why—why is he making all these weird noises, why is he touching me so much, why is he touching me in so many places, why is he wreaking havoc, why does he have a smile on his face and a laugh in his chest as he does it, why is he stepping inside of me and trampling everything there, why is he turning me inside out and why am I letting it happen-

“Stop.”

Reki freezes his hand.

Langa’s words come out stilted and choked. Without him realizing it, his hands have curled into fists and his thighs have tensed in their place around Reki’s hips.

“I wanna stop,”

Langa breathes,

“Stop stop. Fully. No more.”

“Of course, dude. We can stop. We’ll stop.”

Reki withdraws his hand and at first moves to push Langa off, but hesitates and thinks better of it. Instead, he just puts them at his own side and leans back slightly.

Langa’s grip tightens. He nuzzles into Reki’s neck with his nose, not unlike a cat. His face scrunches up and relaxes over and over against Reki’s skin.

“Langa...?”

Langa hums his acknowledgment.

“We can stop whenever, of course, And I won’t be mad at you. And you don’t, like, owe me any explanation. I can just let you hug me, if that’s what you want, of course...but, uh, what I guess I'm trying to ask, is—what’s up?”

Langa shrugs.

“I mean, like, you seemed fine at first. I can’t think of anything that’s happened recently, but you seem pretty bummed. This is more than just not being in the mood...”

Langa sighs.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say anything mean or anything like that...”

Langa sits up but keeps his gaze passively down the whole time. He messes with the strings on the front of Reki’s hoodie.

“No, no…you didn’t say anything. I just-”

He sighs,

“…I don’t get it.”

Reki tilts his head,

“Whaddya mean?”

“I-…"

Langa squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head back and forth, looking like a whirlwind on the sheets. His hair whips out and around and smacks against his cheeks with a light sting. A small tingle goes through his body. He hums one, monotone pitch.

Reki sits quiet and watches with furrowed brows and a faint frown. Langa balls his hands into fists and brings them down onto his own thighs over and over. Reki silently slides his hands on Langa’s thigh where he is hitting himself and takes the brunt of it.

Langa takes in then lets out a deep breathe.

“I just-…I can’t stop thinking about...”

He rocks. Reki takes one of his fists and carefully relieves it, pulling one finger at a time until Langa’s hand is flat and spread out once again. He hums noncommittally, tone lilting up a little at the end.

“And I-...I don’t know why?? You’re nothing like him, of course, and I’m so happy with you and I don’t know why this is happening now, just when I finally got so much better and happier and what he did wasn’t even that big of a deal but I still feel this weird pit in my stomach...?”

Langa watches as Reki plays with his other hand, running strong and careful fingertips across knuckles, cuticles, wrist…absentmindedly examining…

Reki keeps his eyes down to Langa’s fingers.

“Well...if who you’re talking about is who I think you’re talking about, it totally was a big deal. Okay? That guy was weird as hell--I got creeped just from being in the same country as him. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you...being his main focus and all...”

Reki seems satisfied with whatever he’s doing and brings his hands up to Langa’s. It happens in a moment, but Langa swears he can feel the sequences of palm pressing against palm, fingers brushing between fingers, hand closing around hand.

Reki brings his hand up to his own cheek, holding the back of Langa’s hand against it.

Langa’s eyes flutter and he realizes he’s biting the inside of his cheek when he hears the sound of the skin ripping from inside his own head.

“But I...it didn’t bother me all that much at the time. So... why now? What’s up? I don’t-…

Langa gets smaller and wilts a little,

“I don’t want him messing this up too.”

Reki tilts his head to the side.

“Whaddya mean dude?”

Langa steels himself,

“I just-...he got between us once. And then we were fine. But now we’re not. And it’s because of him again. I hate that I keep thinking about him, I just-…I’m sick of Adam fucking shit up. Especially between us.”

Langa’s lips trembles and a small tear he didn’t realize was building up falls.

Reki’s eyes widen slightly,

“Woah woah woah, who said he’s messing stuff up with us again? We’re all good.”

Langa sniffles,

“But I can’t stop thinking about him and what he did! I don’t mean to, but he just keeps appearing, and I thought if I ignored him then he would go away, but he didn’t, and now you’re gonna be mad at me!”

Even though his voice is down, he feels like it’s the only thing he can hear. He hates the small waver at the end of his sentence, and how he can’t stop the slight tremble and pout of his bottom lip.

“Hey hey hey,”

Reki reaches out a hand to cup Langa’s cheek and leans in,

“I’m not mad at you. It’s not bad that you’re thinking of Adam. Well, actually, it is, it’s really bad, but not like that! I-,”

Reki closes his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts,

“What I mean is, it doesn’t make you bad. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But-”

Langa takes a shaky breath in. He focuses on the feeling of Reki running his thumb across his cheek,

“But we promised we wouldn’t let him come between us again.”

He has the sudden vague thought of how ugly he must look right now, with red-rimmed eyes and a twisted-up expression he just can’t seem to smooth over. His voice had dropped to a small whisper. Honestly, more like a whine. Reki wipes away some stray wetness,

“Dude, you’re not letting him do anything. This isn’t you letting him, it’s him barging in and not listening when you tell him to beat it. Okay? You didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not mad at you, okay?”

Langa can’t help it. He shakes his head all about and presses the palms of his hands on Reki’s hand and arm.

“Okay, okay. Okay. It’s okay.”

He trembles, and a few tears fall.

“You’re not mad at me. It’s okay.”

Reki nodded,

“I’m not mad at you. It’s okay. C’mere,”

Reki backs against the wall and hold his arms open for Langa. Langa climbs on top of him, still sniffling slightly, and sits beside his boyfriend—their legs are intertwined and he’s resting so heavily on Reki’s shirt that he’s practically on top of him.

He messes around with the various gear Reki has on: belt, harness, jewelry, chains, the like. He twirls the chain around Reki’s neck between his fingers. It’s fake plastic—the scratches and ridges give it away. He digs them into his skin sharply, but they are blunt and small and barely leave an indentation.

“…I hate this.”

Reki wraps his arms around Langa and rubs his arms soothingly,

“I know. Well, I don’t know how it feels, but I know that you are feeling it. I know you hate it. I’m-…I’m sorry.”

Langa sighs,

“It’s okay, it’s not like this is your fault. I just…”

Langa falls silent.

“Why didn’t I refuse the beef? Everyone told me it was a bad idea, but I did it anyway. I don’t get to be upset now, I’m the reason why…it even happened in the first place-“

“No.”

Langa looks up at Reki,

“Huh?”

“I mean, no. I mean, it’s not your fault.”

Langa’s brows furrow ever so slightly,

“But I went to S. I entered the tournament. I was too stupid to realize what he was doing to me,”

Langa’s tone is resigned, like he’s stating an unfortunate fact,

“I don’t get to be upset over something I did…”

Reki looks down at him, confusion all over his face,

“Dude, you didn’t do anything! Look,”

Reki wraps his arms around Langa,

“Let’s say’s your wanna go play baseball. Canadians love baseball, right?”

“That’s America.”

“Close enough- so you wanna play baseball, right? So you go to the baseball field. And you’re having a good time, sitting in your seat,”

Langa nods looking like he’s following, Reki continues,

“and then outta nowhere some crazy guy come and clocks you in the head with a baseball bat.”

Langa blinks.

“Huh?”

“Yeah?”

“Why would he do that?”

Reki shrugs.

“I dunno. But he did. Is that your fault?”

Langa can already see the analogy but tries to force his brain into ignoring it anyway.

“…no, I guess it’s not.”

Reki smiles,

“See?”

Langa looks at the lamp sitting on Reki’s nightstand, its soft glow filling the space. It’s an exact contrast to the blinding lights of S, the dramatics still flashing in the back of his mind.

“But-…"

“But...?”

“But I didn’t stop. Any other person would have stopped going, if they know they’re going to get...hit with a baseball bat.”

“Hmmm...well, you love baseball though.”

“I don’t love baseball.”

“No, I mean, in the metaphor, you love baseball.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, so, you love baseball. And you just love baseball so much, and all your friends love baseball, and you don’t know what you’d do if you had to stop going to baseball.

Langa nods along.

“So you keep going to baseball. And a lot of the time, it’s perfectly fine. But then one day, he comes again, and he hits you in the head again. Is that your fault?”

Langa looks down, eyes half-lidded,

“But I knew S was...his place, I should’ve known better than to go there.”

“Woah woah woah, S is totally not Adam’s place. It's not, ‘the place to get creeped on’ --its ‘the place to skate and watch other skaters and have fun with your friends without having to worry about some weirdo’. Or at least, it should be.”

Langa keeps his eyes trained downwards. He can hear Reki sigh above him,

“Look, the point is, it’s not your fault. And you’re allowed to feel bad. You’re not like…doing anything wrong or anything like that.”

Langa bites his lip,

“I-…”

His tightens his grip on Reki’s sweater and buries his face into, uninterrupted muffling his words a bit as they stumble out of his mouth and into Reki’s soft stomach,

“I don’t think I agree…I’m sorry…”

He feels a shift that he assumes is Reki shrugging,

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay that you don’t believe me.”

Langa breathes a little easier as Reki’s hold on him tightens, the loving pressure across his back—seemingly contradictorily—relieves him of some of the weight in his chest. Reki shrugs,

“That’s just means that I gotta keep telling you until you do. And showing it to you.”

Langa lifts his head up, a small pop running through his neck as he cranes up towards Reki with eyes clouded by apprehension,

“All I need right now is for you to be here…to hold me…”

His voice comes out breathy and needy,

“Please…?”

All of fears are washed away in an instant, in the way he should’ve known it would be, by Reki smiling down at him, by Reki’s eyes crinkling, by Reki’s chuckling filling his ears and traveling straight to fill up his heart until he feels close to bursting,

“Of course, Langa. I’ll hold you.”

Langa feels the corner of his mouth twitch as he climbs up a bit to be in a more comfortable position, curling all of his limbs around Reki like ribbon in silky hair, nuzzling in closer and smiling softly.

“I love you, Reki.”

He feels a smile against him as well,

“I love you too, Langa. So, so much,”

Reki grips Langa tighter, closer, softer,

“I love you…”