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For a while now, Langa had really believed that what made his heartbeat truly restless was being able to skate alongside Reki – but he's learning very quickly that a heart that beats out of fear is one that beats a lot harder than one out of joy.
It's been twenty minutes since the race against Adam ended, with Reki collapsing at the finish line in spectacular fashion, rolling two or three times over to aggravate wounds that were still so fresh. He'd held himself together well enough to force the matador to back down, with Langa diligently there at his side to hold him steady as he stood on uneasy legs, and it was only when the match between Langa and Adam had been set in stone that Reki chose to forfeit the last of his strength, collapsing back down to his knees once more for a much needed rest.
Langa was quick to whisk him away, aided by Joe to get him out of that stifling building and back to Dope Sketch's motorcycle, with Langa getting on first to allow Reki something to prop himself up against. From there on out it's felt like a race against time, as Langa struggles with the decision to either drive as fast as he can to get Reki some care before anything that's happened to him worsens beyond repair, or to take it easy on the way back, ensuring that the ride goes as smoothly and as comfortably for his friend as it possibly can.
Reki's weight is heavy against his back, his body slumped fully forward as far as the narrow space between them allows, and the redhead's hands are almost too loose around his waist to keep them going with any degree of safety. But he presses on anyway, keeping the gas steady and the wheel straight, slowing to a crawl around every corner and dodging the little bumps in the road that might threaten to knock Reki off. Every so often one of his hands comes off the handlebars and onto a tender wrist, holding gently to ask Reki over the noise of the wind if he's still alright, and without fail, he's always given a nudge from the redhead's other hand in return; the most he can do in his frail condition.
It wasn't all that long ago that Langa enjoyed the rush of his wild heartbeat, letting its thunder fuel his desire to ride harder, to fly higher – to follow Reki into oblivion if it asked him to – but now, it's all that he can do to try and calm it back down as that relentless pounding works him into a nauseous panic. He tells himself that Reki will be fine, that his injuries can't be life-threatening – after all, he was able to get back up on his feet after the worst of it all to push through the last of the race; a feat of strength that can only be admired. And even now, despite the display of utter weakness that Langa feels against his back, Reki's still conscious – a testament to how strong his will really is.
But the question is – how much longer will that vestige of strength last?
The engine cuts as Langa nears Reki's home, coasting the rest of the way so as not to wake any of the young ones that sleep inside, and while they're both still seated on the bike, he walks it up toward the front door, intending to give Reki the quickest path into his bed as he possibly can. But the redhead soon stirs, groaning faintly near Langa's ear, and he pauses in his walk almost abruptly, the bike swaying beneath them both as he listens carefully.
“Mind if we go 'round to the garage?” Reki mumbles; his voice hoarse and so very strained.
“You don't want to go to bed?” Langa asks, feeling Reki's first response in the form of a soft head shake that tickles the skin of his neck.
“I don't... wanna wake anyone,” he murmurs, his mouth pressed firmly into the fabric of Langa's shirt. “There's... first-aid, in... in the garage.”
He's struggling to breathe, that much is evident from the way that he halts every few words to catch up, and Langa finds that his own breath begins to shake as he exhales, despite his best efforts to keep himself calm enough to get Reki the care that he needs. But he knows that panic helps nobody in a situation like this, and certainly not when Reki's relying on him now to step up and look after him, and so with a forced nod that barely hides his growing fears, he turns the wheel, walking the bike in the direction of the garage that's around the side of the house.
“Can you stand, do you think?” he asks softly.
“I... I dunno,” Reki mumbles. “I can try—”
“—No, don't,” Langa blurts, cutting him off before he even has a chance to set foot to the dirt. “Just... hold on to the bike, okay? I'll open the door, and then I can come back and help you.”
“Mm,” Reki hums. “Right...”
It pains Langa to witness him in such a state, of course – a perfectly normal response to what happened tonight – but what he didn't expect to feel so torn over is the fact that Reki no longer sounds like himself. That chipper voice that always radiates so much awe and excitement now sounds broken and frail, and almost lifeless compared to how Langa's so used to hearing it sound. The boy behind him looked shattered back when he collapsed at Crazy Rock, and if his cracked voice is anything to go by, then he's almost afraid to get off the bike and look at Reki as he is now, as he's scared of seeing such pale skin that no doubt blooms with fresh bruises and blood that runs from untreated wounds.
He's hardly about to leave Reki here on his own, though, and so with careful movements he maneuvers himself off the bike, making sure that it's sturdy on its kickstand and that Reki's hands are firmly planted on the seat – or as firmly as they can be in his condition. From what little he can see in the dark, he can make out the rough rise and fall of the redhead's chest; a staggered pant that rumbles every few breaths as his lungs struggle through the blood that's probably found its way into them. As selfish as it may be, Langa wants nothing more in this very moment than to take him into his arms, to soothe the pain with a gentle embrace – a careful touch that Reki so badly needs to feel again.
But he can't do that, because he's honestly not sure how Reki would even respond to something so forward as that. He's never really been one for hugging, and Reki knows as much.
His own desires aside for now, he leaves Reki alone for a short time, as he trusts that he's able to hold himself up for the few seconds it takes to get the garage door open. Once it's up, he returns to Reki's side to offer a hand in getting him off the bike, trying first to support him under the arms, until they both quickly realize that Reki's sustained one too many injuries to his upper arms and shoulders for that to work very comfortably.
If Langa had his way, he'd just carry Reki off the bike and inside, but his friend's likely to snuff that flame before it even burns, as embarrassment tends to be something that Reki tries his best to avoid.
He kneels closely by the bike instead, offering his back to Reki, who in turn manages to understand what's being suggested without needing to hear a single word of explanation. The redhead does his best to slough off the seat of the bike and onto Langa's back, his arms and legs nearly limp as he lets his friend carry him piggy-back, with Langa supporting his weight almost entirely so as to spare him any further effort on his part. Though Reki's legs never did suffer very much in that race, Langa still makes the executive decision to bar him from walking at all just yet, as he's quite keen to do everything in his power to give Reki all the rest he needs.
And he needs plenty, given all that he's been through.
Langa's careful when he lays Reki down on the cold floor of the garage, wincing when he turns around to see his friend's face twisted in pain, but it strikes him with an idea that he finds incredibly hard to pass up. He'll need Reki's permission, of course, which he can't imagine being denied at a time like this when his intentions are geared toward something that can only serve to help him, and so with a gentle hand to Reki's cheek to garner his attention, he silently asks him to open his eyes once more and concentrate on him for but a moment.
“Do you have your key handy, Reki?”
“My... key? The house key?” Reki mumbles.
“Yeah. I wanna run inside and grab something,” Langa explains, softly adding, “If that's okay.”
“Uh... sure.”
Reki fishes a key out from one of his pockets, which genuinely surprises the two of them, as they both figured that after all that he went through tonight it would've fallen out and gotten lost somewhere. It's flecked with blood, which comes as no surprise, given that there are any number of places on Reki's body in which it could've come from whenever a hand might've passed over a still-bleeding injury, but Langa takes it from him regardless with a promise to return quickly, and Reki nods as he lays his head back against the wall for a breather.
Langa tiptoes through the house on silent feet, terrified that he'll alarm Reki's parents or god forbid that he'll wake one of the girls, but he makes it in and out of Reki's room without any hassle, the redhead's blanket securely bundled under one arm while the other carries his pillows. He figures that if Reki's set on receiving care out in the garage where it's all hard surfaces and very little to offer in the way of comfort, then he may as well do what he can to make it even a bit more bearable.
Offering Reki something soft to rest on and something warm to cover up with seems like the least he can do at a harrowing time like this.
He locks the front door behind himself when he's done, returning to Reki's side at a quick jog, calling out softly into the darkness to warn the redhead that he's about to hit the light before he does so. The garage floods with colour, revealing the extent of Reki's discomfort, the paleness in his face and the blood that paints his clothes a stark reminder of what he's been through, and after Langa secures the garage door back down behind himself, he makes haste to Reki's side, committed to getting him patched up and settled in for the night sooner rather than later.
The moment that Reki spies what Langa's got under his arms, he smiles, and as faint a smile as it is, it still warms Langa to his core, fuelling his desire to bring that same warmth back to Reki's face where it belongs. He kneels before the redhead, smiling sweetly back at him before reaching out to wind an arm around his shoulders, murmuring a quick apology as he pulls Reki forward far enough to slot a pillow in behind him. With one jammed in behind Reki's upper back, Langa moves to his knees, hoisting his legs up from underneath and slowly sliding him forward until there's room enough to shove the second pillow in behind his lower back, and once he's satisfied with the level of comfort he's provided, he finally stops manhandling his friend, giving him a chance to catch his breath once more.
With the blanket set aside, intended for later use after Reki's injuries have been dealt with, Langa concludes that he's ready to begin his work as an amateur nurse, and he rises to his feet to fetch the first-aid kit from one of the shelves, following Reki's precise guidance in order to find it. He's quick to return to his friend's side, situating himself as close as he can, and with the box balanced atop his crossed legs, he looks Reki over once more, trying to figure out where exactly he's supposed to start.
“Does anything hurt more than the rest, Reki?” he asks, listening closely to the tone of the faint hum he's given in response.
“Mm... my wrist really burns, and... my face, too, I guess,” Reki mumbles.
Langa knows it must be hard for him to pick out any one source of pain among the mess that's been made of his body, but he nods anyway, deciding to deal with the bleeding wounds before the ones that only need ice packs and pain meds. That reminds him – he'll have to run back inside to grab the ice in a while, but he decides that that can wait until he's ready for them, as he's unwilling to sacrifice any of that cold relief to the heat of the garage while he's busy tending to all of the other wounds.
He starts with Reki's left wrist, one of the places the redhead suggested himself, heavily scuffed and bloodied from suffering more than one fall. His hands are tender as they take hold of the red band around Reki's wrist, gingerly pulling it away from the skin to get it off and out of the way, and he exhales slowly in relief as he realizes that it's done well to prevent the injury from being much worse than it is. It's still not pleasant, as the length of Reki's forearm is badly scraped and raw, but that band spared at least a few inches from being torn up, and he briefly wonders if he could convince Reki to start wearing one on the other wrist as well.
Or proper protective gear, for that matter. But he's hardly about to wear such things himself, and he figures that it won't be easy to convince Reki to do it if he's not even dedicated to it himself.
“This one's pretty bad, isn't it?” he murmurs, carefully turning Reki's wrist over a few times with one hand while the other works to uncap a bottle of antiseptic.
“Y-yeah,” Reki winces, feeling the skin pull each time that Langa examines it closer. “Can't remember how many times I caught myself on it... and he—”
He pauses to gasp through his teeth, trying hard now to yank his wrist in close to himself as Langa generously coats his wound in that painful, stinging liquid before he's ready for it, and all that Langa can do in return is murmur a few quiet apologies for catching him off guard. He figured it would be for the best, though, as he's always found that it hurts worse when he's prepared for that sting, at least in his own experience, and he soothes Reki's agony once he's done by running a bold hand through that red hair, slowly petting him in the hopes that it works to get his focus off of everything that pains him.
“Sorry, Reki,” he murmurs, speaking a bit louder this time than before. “I can't let them get infected.”
“I… I know, it's just…” Reki mumbles. He pauses to cough a few times, aggravating his already sore chest, and his brows knit just as tightly as his eyes have closed as he leans back into the wall once more. “This wouldn't suck so bad if I'd won,” he groans.
That gets a smile out of Langa, at least, albeit a small one. He keeps it there on his face as he winds clean bandages around the majority of Reki's forearm, taking care to keep it wrapped as neatly as he can, and once he's certain that every inch of tattered skin has been covered up, he secures the end in place before inspecting it all over one last time.
“Where else?” he asks.
It takes Reki a moment to pick up on what he's been asked, and his eyes open slowly to blink lazily back at his friend a few times before he murmurs, “My face. Up… up here, I think.”
He brings up his freshly bandaged arm to point somewhere in the vicinity of his browline, and Langa nods. There are clear wounds cut into the skin above his brow, hiding away behind his wild hair, and Langa's fingertips are careful as they brush aside those unruly bangs, working to tuck that hair up into Reki's headband for a better look at what he's dealing with.
It's evident that what caused the mess above Reki's brow were the hard knuckle caps from Adam's glove, driven into the skin several times over during Reki's own ‘love hug' that held the man right where he wanted him, and Langa winces when he recalls just how many times his friend was hit with that fist. It was easily a dozen at least, and he has to wonder how Reki managed to stay conscious during all of that, especially given the numerous other injuries he'd already suffered beforehand.
It reminds him of the last time Reki suffered during a race with that man, too, and it reminds him of his own broken promise not to get involved himself. He knows now that Reki's forgiven him for that, as he's about to go down that path once more for the final race of the tournament, but it still hurts when he thinks about how badly Reki's suffered as a result of his own selfish desire to tangle himself up in such a dangerous race with an even more dangerous man.
He'll right that wrong in whatever way it takes – he promises himself as much. For now, though, the best thing he can do to work towards that goal is to give Reki as much care as he possibly can, no matter how long into the night it might take.
Reki deserves that much. And so much more, too, that he can only dream of giving him.
With a soft sigh, he soaks a cotton ball in some of the same antiseptic that he used earlier, and he works much more slowly this time to dab it along the split skin of Reki's brow, doing his best to keep any of it from running down into the redhead's eye. He cradles his friend's jaw with his free hand while he cleans the wound, absently running his thumb along Reki's cheek as his focus falls entirely to what his other hand is doing, and it's only once he's done that he realizes Reki's leaning into his touch, actively seeking the comfort of his hand rather than shying away from the one that holds the painful antiseptic.
He leaves the cotton ball a short distance away from himself on the floor alongside the other garbage that came from unwrapping those fresh bandages, and for a moment he simply allows himself to selfishly stare at a face that finally looks somewhat peaceful. Reki's complexion is still awfully pale, and he's in need of a good wipe-down with a warm, damp cloth to rid him of all that dried blood, but for the first time since that race ended, he looks relaxed, and almost as though he isn't in any pain at all.
Langa's afraid to move now, lest he break this fragile moment.
But his left arm's getting sore, suspended there out in front of himself as he props up a head that only seems to get heavier in his palm the closer that Reki gets to falling asleep, and he reluctantly stirs his friend from his rest with a low murmur of, “Reki,” before he lets his hand drop back down to his side, forcing his friend to sit up straight once more.
“I need you to stay awake,” he says softly. “I know you want to sleep, but I need your help to do this.”
“Yeah,” Reki whispers. “Got you.”
The redhead rubs the sleep from his tired eyes with the heel of his better hand before he decides to help out a little more properly, and he holds whatever stray hairs are left near his brow up and out of the way, revealing the wound in its entirety so that Langa can patch him up.
“Can you tell me what else hurts?” Langa asks, trying to keep Reki's attention while he works to stick a patch above his eye. “Or... do you know where else you're bleeding from?”
“Mm... my back, probably,” Reki mumbles. “Don't know what's goin' on back there, but... he dragged me along that rock wall, and... and it hurts.”
“Okay.”
Langa's faced with a bit of a dilemma now, as he's not sure what he can do to gain himself access to Reki's back without rearranging the way he's sitting. He doesn't want to do anything that will make his friend more uncomfortable, but he's not sure he has much of a choice at this point, given that he really doesn't know where else Reki might be bleeding from. Reki's back might just be the last place that needs tending, but before Langa tries to move him, he'd rather make sure, just to be on the safe side.
His friend wears so many layers that no blood seems to have seeped through to the point of being clearly visible, and while it's frustrating to Langa as someone who's trying to patch those hidden wounds, he also finds himself feeling a little grateful for it, too, as Reki's clothes have probably done well to prevent him from further injury just like his wristband had.
He's starting to wonder if wearing so many clothes was Reki's intention all along.
He shakes his head, bringing his focus back to where it belongs, and he sits there in deep thought for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened back at Crazy Rock. The night is a bit of a blur now, as his attention for the last half hour or so has been on nothing more than tending the wounds rather than remembering how they came to be, but he manages to recall that Reki had been dragged across the surface of the road on his chest as well, so he's bound to have caught a few scrapes here and there.
Reki's sweater doesn't seem to be in terribly rough shape, but there are a few places in which some pointed stones appear to have found their way through the fabric, and he figures that there's got to be at least a handful of scrapes beneath those thick layers. He reaches out to run a fingertip along the frayed edge of a small hole just off to the side of the emblem in the centre of the hoodie, delighting in the way that Reki's eyes track his movements, as it's a sign that he's still alert, and he's suddenly struck with an idea that might leave his friend right where he is for the time being.
If he can deal with Reki's chest first, as well as anywhere else that's easily accessible with a bit of clothing rearrangement, he figures that it might just save his friend some of the unnecessary pain of having to move around too much. He doesn't want to lay Reki down on his belly until he has to, and he'd like that to be the very last thing he does before allowing his friend to get some proper sleep.
It's looking like they'll be spending the night in the garage anyway, given that he's brought two pillows and a hefty blanket inside already, and he's not above going back into the house to look around for a futon that he can drag out, either, provided that Reki gives him the go-ahead. He imagines it'll probably be easier than taking the risk of waking the whole house by getting Reki back inside to sleep, too.
“Can I start with your chest instead?” he suggests, finally speaking up so as not to make Reki keep wondering why he's been staring at him so silently. “That way I don't have to move you as much.”
“Ah... yeah, sure...” is Reki's weak response.
Reki sounds so unbelievably tired now, but Langa knows that he can't afford to let him sleep just yet, not when his rest is bound to be fitful at best, what with all of the injuries that still need tending. He watches those heavy eyes fall shut yet again, and they stay closed for longer than they had the last time, even as he works to gently push that sweater up as high as he can, along with the shirt that Reki wears underneath it. He'll need Reki's help to hold it all up for him, but at this point, he's not sure that his friend can manage even that much, and he frowns softly to himself as he's ended up stuck once again.
Perhaps his idea to set up a bed out here might need to be executed sooner rather than later – and along with it, the unfortunate task of moving Reki around after all.
“Reki?”
“Hm...?”
“I'm gonna go back inside and get a futon... where do you keep them?”
Those eyes open again to give him a strange look, as though Reki can't quite figure out what he's got planned, but after a moment, Reki yawns long and wide, before mumbling, “Living room.”
It's not the most accurate answer, but Langa supposes it's better than nothing, at least, and he nods before he rises to his feet with a promise to return shortly.
He tiptoes through his friend's house as quietly as he had the first time he set foot in there tonight, and he's grateful that he doesn't have to walk as far this time as he had the last, given that the living space is right around the corner from the front door. He stops to listen before he goes rifling through the closet in the dark, as the last thing he wants is for one of Reki's parents to think that there's an intruder digging through their things, and only once he's confident that he's the only soul awake in the whole place does he go searching, and he finds what he's looking for after only a short few seconds.
When he returns to the garage, he's surprised to see that Reki's still awake even after being left alone for that long. His friend's been on the edge of sleep ever since he got on the back of that bike, and he figured that Reki would've taken the chance to nod off once he was out of the picture for a few minutes – but either way, he's glad that he doesn't have to fight as hard as he might have had to just to get the redhead settled on the futon after all.
He lays it out in the centre of the floor, allowing himself plenty of space to keep working even after Reki inevitably goes boneless once he's laid there upon it. When he returns to his friend's side, he kneels as close as he can get, his arms out at the ready with every intention of picking Reki up bridal-style – regardless of what he might have to say about it. He figures that there can't be too much complaining, as they're alone in this small room with no one around to see Reki being carried in such an unbecoming way, but with how much the redhead's suffering right now, he really can't imagine it being a big deal if there were anyone around anyway.
Reki's already proven that he's eager to get into bed and sleep no matter what it takes, and Langa's not about to deny him the opportunity in order to spare his dignity a little.
He's extra careful when he hauls Reki up into his arms, as he knows that his back is still painfully sore from grinding against that rock wall and who knows what else, but thankfully, besides a brief groan, he doesn't hear any protest. He lays his friend down on the mattress just as carefully as he had picked him up, keeping mindful of the injuries that still lie hidden beneath those clothes, and he's quick to grab one of the pillows to cushion Reki's head before he adds the finishing touch – the blanket, unused until now, that he drags over to cover up Reki's legs in a bid to keep him warm.
It's warm enough both outside and inside the garage, but he figures that if Reki's been losing blood, even in small amounts, he's probably better off being kept warm regardless of the temperature.
“Langa...?”
“Hm?”
“I just... wanna say thanks,” Reki mumbles, lightly slurring his words through his fatigue. Though he's tired and sore, and lacking more blood in his body than he should have, he still manages to find a way to warm his cheeks a little, and he looks away shyly before he adds, “You don't have to do all of this.”
“Well... I wasn't going to wake your mom to get her to do it,” Langa teases. “But it's... it's okay, Reki. Really. I want to,” he says softly, before wasting no more time in pushing up Reki's sweater and t-shirt once again.
With the redhead lying down now, it's much easier to see and manage the angry scrapes that decorate Reki's body, as the hoodie no longer threatens to fall back down on him thanks to Reki's inability to really do much in the way of helping. But Langa can't blame him, as he's been run ragged, and given the number of times he's fallen tonight and the frightening number of bruises that have yet to really bloom all over his skin, it's really no wonder that Reki's given up on trying to stay conscious.
He's honestly surprised that Reki's lasted this long.
“I can't really bandage these, but I'll clean them, okay?”
“... Sure,” Reki says through another yawn.
Langa finds a remarkable amount of professionalism in himself as he cleans the wounds on Reki's chest, focusing more so on doing that than he does on looking at his friend's bare skin. He's never considered himself to be lecherous in any way, but when it comes to Reki, he admittedly tends to find himself staring a little longer than he ever has at anyone else – which is hardly a surprise to him, given that he's been fond of Reki for quite some time now.
But thankfully, this time is different, as his mind's decided that there are more important things to do than look his friend over like the desperate fool that he is, and he gives himself a mental pat on the back for keeping calm despite having his hands all over a part of Reki that he generally doesn't have anything to do with.
His face warms almost unhealthily, but he keeps going regardless of the disaster he's made out of his thoughts, as he's determined to see this through as thoroughly as he possibly can. Reki deserves the best care that he can give him, as the redhead's already refused a trip to the emergency room, and the next best option they've got is an attentive patch-job from someone whose mother is a nurse. He might not be anywhere near an expert, but he figures that he can manage better than anyone else they know.
It's a shame his mother isn't around tonight, too, otherwise he would've brought Reki right to her.
Upon finishing his disinfecting, he briefly considers tugging Reki's clothes back down to where they belong, but he realizes that woven into that fabric is probably a ridiculous amount of dirt, sweat, and who knows what else, and he decides against putting that right back up against Reki's clean wounds. He works to get both the sweater and the t-shirt off instead, with his friend only mildly cooperating with him now, as Reki's finding it much easier to try and nod off now that he's laying down, but after a gentle struggle, Langa manages to get it done, and he tosses the dirty clothes off to the side somewhere.
“Kinda... cold,” Reki mumbles, just before a shiver visibly runs through his body.
“Sorry,” Langa say stiffly. “I'm gonna do your back now, okay? Think you can roll over?”
“Mhm,” Reki hums. “Might... need your help.”
“Of course,” he says softly.
His hands are surprisingly warm for once; either that, or Reki's a little colder than he should be. But his friend seems to find some relief in his touch as he rests a hand upon Reki's left shoulder, the one that's looking and feeling like it's in need of some ice right about now, and he pushes up from behind as gently as he can to give the redhead the extra strength that he needs. He stops for a moment when Reki's on his side, giving him a chance to adjust and catch his breath, and once that pained look on his friend's face softens again he brings a hand around to Reki's collar to help ease him down on his front.
As soon as Reki's lying flat on his chest, Langa catches sight of several red spots that have been left behind on the futon beneath him, and he winces when he realizes that he'll have to find both a way to explain this to Reki's mother as well as a way to repay her for letting it happen in the first place. He curses himself for not grabbing a towel while he was inside, but he knows that it's out of his hands now, and he knows that complaining about it will get him nowhere anyway.
He doesn't want to run in and out of the house any more than he has to, as he's bound to wake someone up from the repeated noise at some point, however quiet he tries to be. But all that's left to get are the ice packs and maybe some bottles of water to keep Reki hydrated throughout the night, and he figures that if he goes back now, he should be able to get back in time to dab up at least some of the blood before the futon becomes too much of a mess to clean completely.
He glances at Reki's back once more, getting a better look at it rather than the spots it's left behind on everything else, and he frowns as he studies his friend's marred skin, noting that it looks to be in much the same condition as Reki's chest is. His back is worse, however, as there are plenty more superficial scrapes and areas where the skin was burned by friction, and not a single thing in the first-aid kit looks suitable for covering any of it up unless he wants to wind the whole roll of bandaging around Reki's body from his underarms down to his hips.
Reki's mother might just kill him for using it all so unwisely, if she doesn't kill him before that for not getting her son to a hospital instead of her garage. But he'll cross that bridge when he gets there.
“I can't really bandage these, either,” he murmurs. “They're all really small and all over the place.”
“S'okay,” Reki mumbles, muffled by the futon that he's pressed his cheek against. “What'ver you do'll be good 'nough, I think...” he slurs.
With a soft laugh, Langa asks, “Tired?”
“Mm. When can I sleep?”
“Soon,” he promises. “I have to go inside one more time, and when I get back, I'll finish cleaning you up. I think you can sleep after that, but... I wanna make sure we didn't forget anything.”
Reki adjusts himself, turning his head a little more so that he doesn't have to fight as hard to speak. He looks back at Langa with curious eyes, his mouth parting in a yawn that seems to interrupt whatever he was about to say, but once he's done, he looks shyly down toward the mattress, poking and prodding sluggishly at it with a scratched-up index finger.
“Can you... take my headband off before you go?” he asks almost meekly. “I'm kinda itchy.”
Effortlessly, Langa tells him, “Yeah, of course.”
It slips off easily, but Langa finds that his fingers seem to linger a bit longer than they probably should between the strands of Reki's matted hair, and before he realizes it, he's gently petting through it, smoothing everything down as best he can. He loses himself to that feeling for a while, the hair still soft against his skin despite everything it's been through, and his gaze stares absently at the side of his friend's face as he forgets where he is and what he's supposed to be doing.
Until he remembers that Reki's awake, and his hand returns to his personal space like it's been burned.
“Ah... I'll be back soon, okay?”
“Mhm,” Reki hums. His eyes close, though he makes it a point to prove to Langa that he's not looking to fall asleep just yet when he adds, “Wanna bring me some comfier pants?”
“Sure,” Langa murmurs.
Before he's even up on his feet all the way, Langa hears a quiet, raspy laugh from Reki, and it nearly startles him. He frowns, throwing that look down toward Reki, and in turn, the redhead looks back up at him with a cheeky expression on his face, or at least the half of his face that Langa can see, anyway.
“Usually you'd tell me somethin' dumb like 'say please' instead of doin' what I asked,” Reki mumbles.
Langa's face softens into a gentle smile, and he kneels down to greedily ruffle Reki's hair one more time. “Not today,” he nearly whispers.
Neither one of them says another word, but Langa catches the warmth in Reki's cheeks just before he turns to leave, and he can almost feel those eyes burn into his back as he quietly makes his exit from the garage once more.
It doesn't take him long at all to find what he's looking for when he ventures into the house for what he hopes to be the last time, as the ice packs were guaranteed to be where they're supposed to be, and towels are hardly ever difficult to find. He snags a pair of pyjama pants from Reki's room, grabbing whatever one his hand lands on when he reaches into the drawer, and on his way back down the hall he remembers to grab a couple bottles of water as well, adding them to the pile that he's balanced carefully in the crook of one arm.
When he returns, he finds that Reki's eyes are shut, and his breathing has evened out. The redhead's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, a good indication that he's finally succumbed to sleep, and Langa settles as silently as he can on his knees at Reki's left side, placing everything he's brought back with him on the floor one thing at a time, doing all that he can to keep from making a sound.
With Reki seemingly out for a nap now, he takes a moment to study his friend's figure, specifically eyeing the clean bandages that he's wrapped so carefully around one very sprawled-out left arm, and the patch that he's laid over Reki's brow. Blood hasn't begun to seep through them, to his relief, but when he takes a minute to think about the raw red skin that lies torn and sore beneath those dressings, skin that will continue to be sore for several weeks, he can't help but to feel a sharp sting of guilt for playing a part in making those wounds happen in the first place.
If he had never entered that tournament – hell, if he had never chased the adrenaline rush that comes with racing against Adam – then Reki never would've ended up with such painful wounds.
He knows that Reki doesn't blame him, of course, and Reki had taken Shadow's place quite willingly when presented with the opportunity, but he doesn't feel as though that absolves him of any of the responsibility for what happened tonight. The fact remains that it was his desire to chase the thrill of racing someone who truly challenged him that resulted in Reki getting hurt, even if it was in a rather roundabout way, and no proclamations from Reki about 'skating for fun' are going to make the guilt that he feels go away any time soon.
His heart aches for Reki now, and not in the way that it usually does.
He's allowed one of the most important people in his life to get hurt when he had the power to prevent it, and yet all that he could do at the time was encourage Reki to challenge himself and push the limits of his skating, almost as though he were trying to turn his friend into another version of himself. Part of him wanted Reki to beat Adam not just for the redhead's own personal gain, but so that he could have someone even more rewarding to race against himself in the final stretch of the tournament – and that, he supposes, is what he finds most selfish about his decision to follow this reckless path.
Reki's owed a real, heartfelt apology; one that he's not even sure he can put into words just yet.
But his friend seems to be in a rather peaceful sleep right now, and he'd really rather not wake him up just to apologize, especially when Reki's bound to say something along the lines of 'don't worry about it' or possibly even 'what are you sorry for?'. Somehow, though – apology or not – he has to try and get ice packs on the more swollen parts of his friend's body, as well as those comfier pants that he was asked to bring along. But he's not keen on the idea of stripping Reki down while he's sleeping, and certainly not without his permission, either.
There it goes; that little flutter he feels in his chest whenever he thinks about putting his hands on Reki.
Now his heart's aching for him in both ways.
He knits his brow, annoyed with himself, and before he makes a fool of himself any further, he decides to ask in a whisper, “Are you... asleep?”
In a way, he wants Reki to stay asleep just to spare him some of the embarrassment he feels for letting his feelings run amok, as he really has no idea what kind of face he's wearing right now. But warm eyes open roughly halfway at the sound of his voice, honing in on him almost immediately, and against his better judgment, his cheeks flush, plain and clear for Reki to see.
“Nah,” Reki says quietly. “Just... resting.”
Langa lets out a breath, unaware that he'd held it for so long when he started staring at Reki, and he lets a jittery hand pass through that soft hair once more under the guise of combing it back for a better look at the patch on Reki's brow, preparing his excuse just in case his friend asks what he's doing. It's not the first time he's run his hand through that hair tonight, and he knows that it probably won't be the last, either, but he can't seem to stop himself from taking what he wants, especially when Reki always looks so warm and inviting – a polar opposite to himself.
Selfish. All he can seem to be tonight is selfish.
He sighs through his nose, hoping that Reki doesn't hear it – or if he does, that he doesn't catch on to what he's sighing about – and he nervously asks, “Were you awake the whole time I've been here?”
“Well yeah, but... you didn't say anything, so... I didn't either,” Reki mumbles.
Langa's mouth upturns in a soft pout, but it fades quickly when those sleepy eyes focus on something inconsequential across the room instead of him. He's glad that Reki's not looking at him anymore, as he really doesn't know how ridiculous his face must look by now in all its flustered glory; a result of being left alone to his many thoughts while under the foolish assumption that Reki was out like a light.
Without another word, he decides to get to work, taking a hand towel from his collection of items, and he begins to gently dab at the little spots on the futon, realizing within a matter of seconds that his efforts are fruitless. He groans, tossing the towel aside, and he grabs a fresh one from the pile that he wraps around one of the ice packs in an attempt to lessen the bite that it'll have on Reki's skin, though he doesn't wind it too tightly, as he wants it to be as effective as possible.
He looks over his friend's body once more, recalling how Reki's left shoulder had felt quite warm to the touch when he rolled him over earlier, and he vividly remembers the way that Reki had landed on it more than once in that race, including his final roll across the finish line. He deems it a good place to lay one of his limited number of ice packs, but before he does, he rests a hand upon the skin to find the best place to leave it, noting that it's still just as flush and tender as it was the last time he touched it.
“This is gonna be cold, okay?” he warns. “Your shoulder's really hot and swollen, so I'll lay it there.”
“Mhm. Go for it.”
Langa learns quite quickly that while Reki sounds like he's prepared for it, he really isn't. He's met with a shudder when he presses the ice pack into his friend's skin, and it's soon followed by a low groan that he has a hard time deciphering the meaning of. It sounds halfway between relief and pain, but judging by the way that Reki's brow knits tightly, he assumes it's the latter, and he murmurs a soft apology along with one – and only one – slow stroke of his hand along the redhead's spine to soothe him.
Sure, he's still being selfish – but Reki hasn't seemed to mind so far, so he figures there's no harm in it.
“Hey...”
Reki's low murmur snags his attention away from getting the next ice pack wrapped, and he sets his gaze upon his friend's face, or more specifically, the curious expression he wears.
“Hm?”
“Thought you were... scared of blood, and all that stuff,” Reki mumbles.
“I am, when it's my own,” Langa laughs faintly. “I'm not really a fan of yours either, honestly, but... you need help. I'm not gonna ignore you because I'm uncomfortable.”
Reki seems to ponder his words for a moment, his lower lip upturning slightly as he thinks a little more deeply than usual before he says, “That's... really nice of you. Sorry to say that I don't think I'd run into a swarm of ghosts to help you, though...”
Langa laughs a little more outright this time, his voice light and sweet in the face of his friend's brutal honesty, and Reki just about grins back at him. He can feel the tips of his ears warming at the sight of such a painless, unhindered smile, the very same kind of smile that he's desperately wanted to see plastered on Reki's face for at least an hour now, and he turns his head to feebly try and hide the bubbly smile that he can't seem to get off of his own face.
“Swarm of ghosts?” he asks. “Where would we even see something like that, anyway...?”
“Don't worry about it,” Reki huffs. “The less of 'em we see, the better.”
He shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to roll his eyes at Reki's bold, ridiculous claim, but he restrains himself, as he realizes that this is the first time his friend has had any real life in him since the race ended. Until now, Reki's spent the better part of their time together being quiet and frail, and to see his eyes burn bright with the same conviction that his voice speaks of has Langa feeling warm all over, as though they're burning him, too.
It's really not helping the issue of his eager heartbeat, that's for sure.
He fiddles with his thumbs, running them along a frayed edge of the towel that he finally gets wrapped around the second ice pack, as he suddenly finds it very hard to look Reki directly in the eyes. His heart dances in his chest, beating wildly as the memory of that wide grin remains fixed in the front of his mind, and he pins his eyes shut tight in an effort to forget about it and focus on the task at hand.
“Hold still,” he says almost coldly, trying hard to keep himself in check.
“Huh? Hey, that hurts,” Reki whines, jolting the moment that the ice comes to rest upon his left wrist; the spot where Langa recalls him being grabbed and swung around rather carelessly by. Despite the bandage that covers it, it still stings at that cold touch, and Reki isn't afraid to let Langa know it.
“I warned you,” Langa says.
“You really didn't,” Reki insists.
Langa suddenly freezes, his grip on the ice pack tense as he prepares to apologize for being so rough, but he relaxes when he spies the redhead's tongue poking out childishly at him – a sign that Reki's doing just fine despite the scowl on his face. He sighs loudly, making sure that his friend knows just how exhausting he is, but Reki can only snicker at him in return, or at least attempt to.
His laughter is interrupted by a short coughing fit, one that easily has Langa fretting over him in a matter of seconds, his hands outstretched in an instant to try and roll the redhead back over onto his side. Reki's fit subsides fairly quickly after he's been rearranged, resting on his right side now to allow his battered left to continue healing, and Langa dutifully replaces the ice packs where they belong, ensuring that both of them are secure enough not to slide right off.
He uncaps one of the water bottles that he brought along with him, and with some clever maneuvering, he manages to help Reki take a few good sips without having him sit back up again. They laugh a little during their first several attempts, with Reki doing so a bit more calmly so as not to start coughing again, but after a while they find a way to make it work long enough for the redhead to down about half the bottle, leaving Langa with a sense of satisfaction in knowing that he's better hydrated than before.
With that taken care of now, he realizes that there's nothing left for him to do besides the change of clothing that Reki had asked for, but as he stares at the pair of pants that still sit so neatly folded at his side, he suddenly finds himself getting horribly nervous.
“Still wanna change?” he asks, hoping for a resounding 'no' – but he knows that's wishful thinking.
“Yeah,” Reki mumbles through a yawn. “If you're, uh... cool with that.”
“I don't mind,” he says, even though he very much does.
He's never undressed anyone before, and although Reki's certainly far from the last person he'd ever want to undress, he's really not mentally prepared for such a thing – even if those garish pink boxers that Reki wears are staying on.
He swallows the lump in his throat as he reaches for the fly on his friend's pants, the fabric of them tattered and filthy from Reki's numerous falls, and he adamantly avoids looking at both Reki's face as well as what he's doing as he fumbles blindly for the button, his trembling hand worrying the both of them with each passing second. Eventually he finds it, his eyes still heavily trained on the tools that line the shelf on the wall, but he struggles to grab the zipper now without actually looking at it, and Reki clears his throat only once to voice his concern.
“Y-you, uh... need help?” Reki stutters.
“No,” Langa squeaks.
He suddenly finds himself resolved to finish this quickly, a burst of confidence hitting him at just the right moment, and his gaze snaps to where he thought he'd never find himself staring as he yanks Reki's zipper down almost forcefully. He takes hold of the redhead's pants by the knees, scrunching the worn fabric in his fists, and he pulls them down rather gingerly compared to his previous treatment, as he finally reminds himself that Reki's still quite injured and in need of a bit more tender care.
He's gawked at by wide amber eyes, but he disregards Reki's shock at his ridiculous behaviour in favour of pulling those pants off the rest of the way after slipping off the redhead's shoes. He makes quick work of unfolding those much softer and much cleaner pyjama pants, readying them at Reki's feet in the hopes that his friend might cooperate with him a little, and with a bit of effort, the two of them manage to wiggle Reki's hips around enough that they can get him mostly redressed and settled for the night, complete with the blanket that's soon tucked nicely around his waist.
Reki's still bare from the hips up, of course, but he never asked for a clean shirt, and Langa figures that with the ice packs still doing their job, he won't be needing one for a while anyway. It's warm enough in the garage that it shouldn't be a problem, and once the packs start to thaw he plans to draw the blanket up the rest of the way, provided that Reki doesn't have his own plans to kick him out tonight.
He never did ask Reki if he could stay the night to watch over him.
“You good now?” Reki asks.
“Huh?”
“You were all... weird about my pants,” he says bluntly.
Langa's face twists into something unpleasant, prompting Reki to bite his lip in an effort to not laugh at him. He briefly considers giving his friend a playful shove, but he reminds himself again that it's not the best idea given their circumstances, and he settles for letting his hand stake a claim on that untamed red hair once more. He ruffles it thoroughly, taking care not to get too close to the bandage that he slapped over Reki's brow, and in turn, his friend grumbles and protests, mumbling unintelligible words under his breath as he's treated like the child he pretends to be sometimes.
But at least Reki's laughing and having a good time, Langa thinks. That's all he could've asked for in a situation like this.
“You're sounding a little better,” he murmurs, withdrawing his hand. But Reki gives him an odd look, raising one brow as if to silently ask him to explain, and he adds, “You're talking a lot, I mean. Are you still tired?”
“Oh... yeah, but... it's easy to listen to you, I guess,” Reki says, with a surprising amount of sincerity.
Langa's face warms generously at those words. He keeps quiet as he uncaps the second bottle of water, taking a small sip for himself, and when he's done, he levels his gaze with the floor, as he's effectively run out of things to say or do.
He doesn't want to invite himself to stay, as it feels horribly impolite, but he really doesn't want to leave, either. And he'd rather not face the wrath of Reki's usually sweet mother if he were to leave her son lying here in the garage for someone to find come morning. He wants desperately to stay, even if it's just to stay awake all night to watch and make sure that Reki sleeps peacefully in this odd place they've chosen to camp out in, but his inability to do what most people would do renders him unable to just outright ask the question, even when it seems as though he would get a definite 'yes' from Reki.
It's frustrating, and more than a bit heartbreaking – but true to form, Reki seems to read his mind, and in only a few seconds, the redhead manages to ease his fears almost effortlessly.
Just like always.
“Hey...” Reki starts, trailing off softly as he rethinks his next words. “You... you staying tonight, or...?”
“... Do you want me to stay?” he asks.
“Well... only if you want to,” Reki says stubbornly, his eyes shy as he glowers at the pillow beneath his head. “I'm not gonna make you.”
“Of course I want to stay,” Langa blurts out, his tone so much softer and sweeter than intended. “You shouldn't be left alone like this.”
Reki's brows knit as he prepares a meagre insult, but he swiftly realizes that Langa's still being sincere with him rather than teasing him, and his face relaxes. He studies Langa for a minute, particularly taking interest in the way that those cold eyes seem to fixate on his wrist, and he gently rolls the ice pack off so that he can raise his arm, stretching it out toward whatever part of his friend he can reach.
His hand lands on Langa's knee, and with his eyes still focused on his friend's face, he curls his fingers, giving it a little squeeze. He doesn't have much strength left, but he figures that Langa felt it at least, as those eyes have tracked his hand to where it rests, and they don't seem keen on looking anywhere else. He runs his thumb back and forth a few times as if to assure Langa that all is well, though he can't seem to find the words to match what his hand tries to convey, even if Langa doesn't really need to hear such words right now anyway.
His friend's face is calm – more so than usual, as subtle a difference as it is – but Reki can see it, and he knows that Langa can trust his silence.
“Hit the light, then?” Reki asks quietly. “And, uh... you can get under the blanket, too, if you want.”
Langa nods almost a bit too quickly, enticed by the idea of laying there at Reki's side, but Reki remains none the wiser to what goes on in his head, and he stands quickly before his eagerness begins to show on his face. He apologizes for knocking Reki's hand off of his knee so quickly, to which the redhead tells him he's fine, of course, before they both work to replace the ice pack on his wrist once more, and after fishing his phone out of his pocket, Langa wanders over to the light switch, flicking it off once he's turned his flashlight on.
He shines the light carefully enough to guide his way back to the makeshift bed without directing it into Reki's eyes, and once he's back at the redhead's side, he turns it off, blindly leaving his phone somewhere off to the side of the mattress. He's hesitant to lie down just yet, but the fact that Reki can't see his face clearly anymore gives him some courage, at least, and he figures it's probably better to get himself settled before his friend's eyes can adjust to the darkness.
He slips his shoes off before he lies down, and despite the narrow space of the futon, he keeps a respectable distance between himself and Reki, or at least enough that he doesn't come across as being excited to share such a small space with him. They've spent plenty of nights at one another's homes in the past, but it's always been arranged with one of them on the bed while the other sleeps on a futon on the floor; never so close together as they are right now.
He's nervous, but only because he'd rather not let Reki know just how strange it makes him feel to be so close to him. It's not a conversation that he's anywhere near ready to have even with himself, let alone out loud with Reki.
When he pulls the blanket up over his hips just as Reki said he could, he rolls over onto his side, allowing him to face the redhead directly. Even in the dark, he knows that they can't be more than a foot apart from one another, and if he pays attention, he can feel the soft rush of Reki's breath across his hands, as they're curled up close against his chest so as not to invade his friend's personal space.
Truthfully, he'd love nothing more than to reach out with one of those hands and take one of Reki's into its grasp, but he knows that he can't. It's too forward, too bold; certainly not something that they've ever done with one another. Reki's touched him in numerous ways before, such as a heavy palm to his shoulder, a clap on the back, or even those great big hugs that always seem to come out of nowhere – but never anything so intimate as the gentle clasp of nervous hands.
He settles for resting the very tips of his fingers atop the bandage on Reki's left arm; the part closest to the redhead's hand, a spot that isn't smothered by the ice pack. Much like Reki had done earlier, he begins to stroke a slow rhythm with his thumb across rough skin, reminding his friend that he's here, that he's attentive to what he needs, and that he has an endless number of things to say that he's still not sure he can manage to say properly.
But he's going to try.
“I'm sorry, Reki,” he says quietly.
Even in the dark, he can see the glint in Reki's eyes when they move, as the moonlight from the window catches them flickering to meet his own. They hold there for a moment, blinking slowly, sleepily, but they never shy away, even after Reki's had time to process what he's said.
“For what?”
“Getting you into this mess,” he explains.
He hears a soft snicker; a laugh breathed quietly around Reki's next words. “You're not the one who roughed me up, y'know.”
“I do know,” he says softly. “But... you shouldn't have been in that tournament. It wouldn't have even happened if I'd told Adam 'no' from the start—”
“—Hey,” Reki says firmly, interrupting him. “Don't sweat it, alright? I'm okay. I mean, I'm not, but... I'll be okay. I just need some rest,” he assures.
Langa doesn't say anything else for a while; instead, he looks down at his pillow, his fingertips still fidgeting with the edge of Reki's bandage. He's not sure what to say other than a million more apologies for bearing some responsibility for this, but Reki's already told him that he doesn't want to hear it – in a nice way, of course.
What he'd love is to tell Reki exactly how much he means to him, and how much it scared him to think about losing him to those injuries, even if they weren't as severe as he first thought they were. He wants to tell Reki that he really would have dropped out of the tournament if only he'd been asked to, and he wants to tell Reki that he still will if that's what he really wants.
More than anything, he supposes that he just wants to apologize for being such a neglectful friend.
“I wouldn't have raced him if I didn't want to. I promise,” Reki insists.
Langa knows that – he really does – but it doesn't make it any easier for him to let it go. He's seen firsthand now what kind of damage Adam can do to people – to people he doesn't like, particularly – and he doesn't want to see that kind of pain visited upon Reki ever again, certainly not for something so ridiculous as his sake. Reki was nothing more than an obstacle to Adam, something to keep the man from racing against his true opponent, and he's not about to let such a thing happen ever again, if it's at all within his power.
If Reki doesn't ask him to back out of the final stretch, then he damn well plans to do everything in his power to knock Adam down a peg; to remind him not to try and get in the way of a bond that's as strong as he and Reki's is.
At some point, he becomes aware that he's breathing a little faster, and he figures that Reki must hear it, too. He's gotten himself worked up, his emotions showing on the outside more so than on the inside, and he finds that he's having a hard time calming himself back down. His fingers curl a little tighter around Reki's wrist, clutching him as though he expects his friend to slip away from him, and he pins his eyes shut in an effort to will away the tears that work their way to the surface.
“You... you're really worried about me, aren't you?” Reki asks softly.
“Yeah,” he whispers unevenly; the floodgates on his carefully guarded feelings threatening to burst any minute now. “He hit you so many times, Reki—”
“Hey, hey, it's... it's okay, Langa,” Reki murmurs.
The redhead displaces his battered arm again, leaving Langa's hand as well as the ice pack behind on the mattress once more as he reaches out to comb his fingers through Langa's hair this time, mimicking the gesture that his friend has shown him several times already.
“I'll be fine, alright? Nothing feels broken, I'm not... I'm not dying or anything.”
“I... I don't like it when you get hurt,” Langa mumbles, his voice broken and frail. “I don't know what to do when you get hurt.”
He never intended to be so up front and honest about his own shortcomings, but the more words that spill out of his mouth, the more he finds that he's quite alright with it after all, given that Reki's reacting positively to everything he's said so far. He feels ashamed of himself for being so vulnerable, especially when Reki's the one who's truly vulnerable right now and in need of his support, but when that hand continues to pass through his hair over and over, he finds that he can't seem to pull himself back together again.
He revels in that touch, fully preparing himself to allow Reki to do whatever he pleases with him, and he feels his heart dance the same way it had earlier when that hand leaves his head and takes hold of his own, just as he had wished for only moments ago. Reki holds him firmly, the redhead's skin so much warmer to the touch than it was before, and he can't stop himself from bringing his other hand into the fray, laying it over top of his friend's palm to keep him secure within the grasp of both of his hands.
“Just do what you did tonight,” Reki murmurs. “You patched me up. You're here with me. That's all I could ever ask for.”
You're here with me.
He nods, because in all honesty, he's run out of things to say despite the way that everything seemed so ready to overflow just seconds ago. Reki's words have put him at ease at last, and as he plays them over again in his head, listening to that soft voice as it gives him all the reassurance he needs, he manages to convince himself that he really has done okay tonight.
He finally trusts the truth behind Reki's words – all of them, including when Reki told him that he would be alright in due time – and he takes a deep breath to remind himself that he can relax.
He's not just here with Reki; Reki's here with him, too, and that's all that he could ever ask for.
“Thanks for takin' care of me,” Reki says. “You worked hard today.”
“Not as hard as you did,” he mumbles.
“Quit it,” Reki mutters – but there's a playful look on his face. “Dealing with me is hard enough sometimes, isn't it?”
Reki's self-tease works a quiet laugh from Langa, who almost solemnly nods in agreement. It puts a smile on his face, too, for the first time in a while, and while he can still feel the weight of what that bandage beneath his hand means, he doesn't let it bother him quite as much as it had before. After all, Reki couldn't have cleaned himself up tonight, and if Langa can be honest with himself, it did take a bit of work to get him dressed, redressed, and settled in for the night.
He did do something good tonight. And while it might not make up for his failure to keep Reki safe in the first place, he figures that it's a step in the right direction, and he truly believes that his actions have proven to Reki at least a fraction of just how much he really cares about him. He'd do it all over again, too, even for the most minor of injuries, so long as Reki continues to allow him to. He'll do just about anything that Reki asks him to, really, if he's being honest – provided it doesn't end poorly for himself.
Which reminds him; there's still one more thing that he's forgotten to talk about.
“Do you... want me to back out of the tournament?” he asks quietly.
“Nah,” Reki says through a laugh, and the moonlight catches his teeth as he flashes a beautiful grin. “Give him hell, Langa. For me?”
Langa's heart does that little skip again, but this time, he refuses to get annoyed with himself. He embraces it, along with everything that it means to him, and with careful hands, he brings the one that he holds so gently up to his lips, pressing a faint, blink-and-you-miss-it kind of kiss to the back of Reki's warm hand.
“I will,” he whispers, his lips soft as they move against Reki's skin. “For you.”