Archive of Our Own

“Can you… come with me to Canada?”

Reki blinks then flushes. Langa asking wasn’t much of a shock. In fact, Reki had been sort of expecting it. Asking the night after their graduation was not expected.

He had been practicing his English all year and he planned to go to Canada for a wood-working apprenticeship anyway. It’s just… he didn’t expect the way Langa had asked him, all soft and almost desperate.

It sounds too much like Reki, Reki, I need you, Reki. I want you, Reki. I love you, Reki.

Which is insane. He knows Langa doesn't like him like that, and it's okay. Reki would follow Langa to the ends of space and back again, and he knows Langa would do the same. Why did he sound so scared that Reki was going to say no?

Langa looks so unsure, eyes glistening in the warm lights of Joes’ restaurant.

Reki forgets how to breathe. His best friend is absolutely captivating, even on the verge of tears. Finally he remembers that they’re nestled together in a small booth of Sia la Luce, with Miya and Shadow arguing near the bar and Cherry rolling his eyes at Joe’s laughter.

“Dude, of course I’ll go to Canada with you!” He laughed and patted Langa on the shoulder. “Do you really think I’d abandon you that easy?”

Langa smiles and relaxes his head on Reki’s shoulder. “I'm gonna need you to take care of me.” He said.

“Because you don't know how to do it yourself, I know dude.” Reki felt his smile soften. “I’ll teach you how.”

…

Reki rubs his eyes and yawns as he enters the apartment. Why did his stupid brain choose to remember that moment just tonight? It’s been at least a year and a half since they’ve moved to Canada, Langa is almost done with college. Reki is half-finished his apprenticeship.

"Hey dude. I’m home.” Reki kicks off his work boots. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to wear them for anything else but for work but he was running late this morning.

Langa is sitting at the dinner table, hair held up by a claw clip and glasses sliding down his nose, working on an assignment. Reki doesn’t know one thing about business or anything that’s associated with it so unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to help Langa like he did in high school.

He’s not sure if he would even be able to help Langa if he asked for it. English was a relatively easy language to learn, but Reki was still far from fluid. Langa’s brown roots are showing. He ignores how his brain tells him Langa is cute like this. With his face scrunched in concentration, looking every bit as intense as he does when he skated at ‘S’.

Reki pushes the glasses up Langa’s nose before they fall and steps into the kitchen, where dinner is waiting.

Joe has insisted he teach them both to cook before they went off to Canada, lecturing them about how ‘learning to cook was an essential life skill’ and ‘they’ll die out there if they can’t even make decent rice.’

As critical as Joe might’ve been towards their less than stellar presentation of their dishes, Reki could at least admit that he’s glad Joe taught both he and Langa to cook. All his recipes are easy to make and taste awesome after a long day of hauling, cutting, and assembling wood.

Reki clears his throat, it’s been itchy all day. Maybe he’s getting sick. It’s currently early October and Canada is already getting cold. Whatever. It’s not like Reki could do anything about it.

Just as he puts the baked salmon and rice into the microwave, Langa appears in the doorway. “Reki.” He smiles. “Welcome home.”

“Glad to be back.” Reki opens his arms and Langa immediately embraces him. Langa had a habit of snuggling up to him ever since they moved here. Not that Reki minded, Langa always ran warm. Maybe a side effect of growing up in Canada? “You got a lot of work today? Didn’t the semester just start?”

Langa groans, putting more of his weight on Reki, causing him to lean against the counter to support him. “I’m so tired.”

The microwave beeps behind them, Langa doesn't move. Reki rubs his back in sympathy, neither of them were the best in school but at least they always had each other. Now that Reki is doing an apprenticeship, Langa is the only one doing bad in school. Reki can’t even begin to imagine how he felt about that.

Reki pulls Langa away, earning a disgruntled noise. Reki laughs. “You wanna go skate later?”

Langa immediately perks up.

…

There is a skatepark near their apartment. Langa and Reki always come whenever they’re free, the kids always crowd around them. I mean it does make sense, compared to them, Reki seemed like a complete pro.

When his apprenticeship ends for the day, he often stops by and teaches some of the older kids easy tricks they could do. It’s gotten to the point that Reki will carry extra bandaids and rubbing alcohol for their scrapes.

Now though, with the sun long gone and the streets dark, it was only him and Langa.

Langa lands the kickflips with practiced ease. Reki could hardly recognize that this was the same boy who fell off his board when he first tried just standing. Pride swells in him, like it did every time Langa won a race or landed a particularly hard trick.

“Nice!” Reki smiles. His coat was making it a bit harder to skate for him. Curse Canada and its unusual coldness. Still, he knows how to ollie like the back of his hand, landing one easily. He would’ve landed another, if he didn’t have a violent coughing fit in mid-air.

Reki bails hard onto the pavement. There’s something in his throat but it’s not coming out. Reki coughs and digs at the back of his throat but whatever is stuck in there just won’t dislodge.

Reki can feel hands on his back. “Reki?” Langa squeezes his shoulder. “Reki, are you okay?”

He tried to respond, really. The phlegm in his throat blocks every attempt. And all too suddenly, it stops. There’s something still lodged rather uncomfortably in his throat. “That’s embarrassing.” Reki laughs, picking himself up.

Langa’s hand is still on his back, rubbing it comfortingly. “Are you getting sick?”

Honestly? “Maybe.” Reki stretches and rests on the pavement. Langa lies beside him. If they were in Okinawa, they might catch a few clusters of stars. In Canada; in Toronto, though, all Reki can make out is the black sky and maybe a star or two. Light pollution...

“I think I wanna try baking this weekend.” Langa says out of the blue. “My grandparents are probably gonna ask us to spend Thanksgiving at their place again.”

“Thanksgiving.” Reki repeats the English word. They’ve been speaking primarily English since they moved. Reki had insisted they would so he could grasp and learn the language quicker. Really, he’s not the brightest but if he wants to, he can learn anything he puts his mind to. “That’s the– that’s the one where they have the bird?”

“Yeah.” Langa comes to rest beside him. Reki still looks like a mess, with sawdust in his hair, smelling the same. “It’s called a turkey. They take a long time to prepare and cook but tastes amazing. Gramps makes the best gravy out of the leftover fat too.”

“Then I’ll look up some easy recipes we can try. I think I’m free tomorrow.” Reki scrunches his nose. “The fridge is pretty empty… I’ll go shopping, then.”

Langa rolls closer to Reki, landing his head on Reki’s outstretched arm. “I only have a morning class tomorrow. Can I come with?”

“Why are you even asking?” Reki’s voice cracks in the middle of the sentence. He coughs. “Of course you can come.”

Langa drums his fingers on his chest. Reki’s heart warms with each beat, ignoring how his lungs squeeze too.

…

Reki stared at the sink, he was supposed to be brushing his teeth. His throat was feeling a little sore, but he didn’t think much of it. Even if he was sick, he would’ve gotten better in a week or so.

He had been lip syncing some lyrics to a popular song when he accidentally breathed in some of his toothpaste, making him double over coughing. It was probably the worst pain he’s ever had in his life, and Adam has put him through hell and back.

Reki hacks and spits. Something had crawled its way out of his throat, he felt it.

In the sink, sits an English primrose, yellow in color. 

The itching in his throat finally ceased, though, not in the way Reki would have hoped. Hanahaki was a disease that had originated from Asia. From where , exactly, he did not know.

What he did know was who gave him the disease in the first place. 

Langa was presumably in their bedroom, looking through snowboarding gear or talking to his grandparents. A wave of fondness washes over Reki before sharp needles prick his throat.

Hanahaki was annoying, but it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in Okinawa. All that was needed to cure Hanahaki was a simple confession to the person you liked, regardless of whether they accept or not. Don’t get him wrong, there is still a chance of Hanahaki killing you if you don’t confess. He thinks he read somewhere that Hanhaki makes you more insecure, and thus, less likely to confess, but there are supplements and medicine you can take to slow the whole dying part. It’s not a big deal.

So Reki flushes the toothpaste stained primrose into the toilet and makes his way out of the bathroom, like he does every night. Nothing is wrong, everything is fine.

Reki collapses into Langa’s bed, fighting the urge to tell him about the flower making its way through their apartment pipes. “Why did we even buy two beds if we’re just going to share one, man?”

“You’re the one who keeps crawling into my bed.” Langa points out. “We can always donate your bed, you know. Make space?”

Make space? For what?

“Nah. One of these days you’re gonna bring someone home and then I’ll be banished to the couch.” Reki laughs.

“Bring who home?” Langa’s face looks confused and tired. “Why would I bring anyone home? You’re here.”

Reki nonchalantly shrugs. Back in Okinawa, Langa was considered handsome because he was a foreigner, he stood out in every way possible because simply, he did not look like he was from Japan.

Now that they’re in Canada though, Reki has realized that Langa was just pretty. There were many different people that made up both Langa’s classes and Reki’s apprenticeship course, and none of them looked the way Langa does. With his brown hair showing through the blue and his nice eyes of the same color.

Reki’s throat constricts. He’s liked Langa for a while, since he was seventeen actually. Only now it has become a problem.

“I’m not gonna bring anyone home, Reki.” Langa pulls the comforter over them both, snuggling close. Reki swallows, his throat is starting to itch again. “This is our apartment; one we share together. If I’m gonna bring anything home, it’s a cat.”

Reki laughs, shoving Langa’s shoulder. “I told you, I want a dog!”

Langa harrumphs and turns away. “Dogs are noisy. And high maintenance. Who’s gonna take care of it when we’re both busy?”

Oh. He did have a point, but Reki wasn’t just going to admit he’s wrong. “You’re high maintenance.” He says lamely in response.

-

“Hey Langa.” Reki punches Langa’s shoulder as he arrives on his skateboard. “I can’t decide on pie filling, wanna make an input?” 

“I think my grandparents would be okay with anything really.” Langa thinks for a moment before adding, “One of my cousins is allergic to a fruit, I don’t remember which one though.”

“Damn.” There goes Reki’s plan for apple pie. “Are they allergic to pumpkin too?”

“Pumpkin is a fruit.” Langa points out. “Better play it safe.”

Pecan pie it is. Reki adjusts his scarf as he makes his way down the aisle, making sure Langa was following him with the cart. Despite the weather being in the negatives, Reki himself feels quite warm. “Do we have any eggs or tomatoes at home?”

Home, Reki thinks as Langa hums. It was endearing that he thought of the little apartment he shared with Langa ‘home’. A home, away from S and his mother and his sisters. Yet, it doesn’t feel much different. The back of his throat tingles. Which reminds him…

“I have a doctor's appointment later.” Langa drops the bag of flour in surprise. Luckily, it lands in the shopping cart. “Are you sick?” He worriedly asks.

Sort of. Reki hasn’t coughed up any flowers since last night, though he could feel that familiar thing in his throat that makes him want to cough to get rid of it. Reki knows better though, he knows he shouldn’t make it worse. "It's just a check up dude, I'll be fine."

“As long as you’re okay.” Langa still puts a hand to his forehead.

Reki gently pries his wrist off and pats it gently. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Langa still has an anxious pout on his face, making Reki ruffle his hair for good measure. “Can you grab the pecans? I need to make a stop at the fish.”

“At the fish.” Langa smiles as he repeats Reki’s poor english. His lips curve up as he slowly corrects him. “Fish aisle.”

“Whatever.” Reki shoves Langa in the other direction. “Just get those pecans.”

…

“Do you need me to pick you up?” Langa fidgets with some of the grocery bags as they both stand outside the doctor’s office. Reki is lucky to get an appointment on such short notice; granted, it was a weekday.

“I’ll be fine, dude.” Reki really wasn’t scared. Canada was more progressive than Japan, maybe they would have some Hanahaki killing pills or medicine or something to help him.

Langa frowns but moves his hand to make it seem like he was about to do their dap, but instead of a high five, he catches Reki's hand and holds it within his own. His worried gaze scans over him. "You'd tell me if there was anything wrong, right?"

"Of course I would." Reki wriggles out of Langa’s grip then he pats his shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with me anyways."

Reki isn’t scared. Reki can’t be scared. It wouldn’t make sense, he's had Hanahaki before. He’s fine now. It was cool.

He used to have a crush on his ex best friend. His first skating partner ever, and he got Hanahaki for it. After the accident that landed his friend in the hospital, Reki couldn’t keep it hidden anymore, and blurted it out.

He was cured of Hanahaki that day. He also lost a friend.

But Langa is different. Langa is everything good that has and ever will happen, because Langa is his new best friend, his roommate, his home away from home. Langa is and always will be more than his old friend ever will and ever could be. Maybe that’s why Reki feels more relaxed than he did years ago. Because it’s Langa. Reki loves him, and Langa surely loves him in return. Even if it’s not in the same way Reki does, it’s enough.

No it's not, the flowers in his lung disagree. You're selfish, he's all yours and yet you still want more.

…

Reki regrets not bringing Langa along, just a bit. The doctor's office is filled with big words Reki doesn’t understand. Even trying to decipher it makes his head hurt. The receptionist is nice enough, even if he rolls his eyes at him when Reki asks him to explain yet another thing on the sheet he needs to fill out.

“So… let me get this straight.” The doctor flips through Reki’s tests and medical history in the file. “You have a flower disease that could kill you,”

“Yes.”

“But it can be cured if you confess to the person you like.”

“Yes.”

“So… why are you here?” His doctor looks genuinely confused. Reki doesn’t have the words to explain it to her, so he just shrugs.

“I can’t.” He says simply.

“Of course you can, why can’t you?”

“I just can’t.” Reki shakes his head. He’s learned his lesson from the last time he had Hanahaki. Confessing will just disgust and make the person you love disappear. “Don’t you have medicine?”

“No.” She sits on her black doctor’s stool and scrolls through a complicated looking sheet on her laptop. “I haven’t even heard of Hanahaki…? Was it? Until today. I doubt we have anything for it.”

After a beat of silence she pipes up again. “We might be able to do a surgery, but the doctors in Canada are inexperienced in this field, so I highly advise against it.”

Surgery for Hanahaki was uncommon, even in Japan, where he’s pretty sure Hanahaki was first discovered. Most people think that the side effect of losing the ability to love is too inhuman. Reki would never put himself through surgery, that’s for sure. Even if he changes his mind, he doubts he’ll find a doctor willing.

That was bad news. Hanahaki was an unpredictable illness; it could go from a small tickle one day to making you throw up a whole bouquet the next. Reki has anywhere from a few days to a few months.

He can’t confess to Langa. Reki can’t have him leave too. When his old friend did, it took him months to feel like himself again. To love anything again. And that was just stupid puppy love. Reki knows getting over Langa isn’t something he can just do. He’s too lost, too in love, to find a way out. 

He’s sitting here, in this cold, cold, country. Suffering from a disease that only has a cure in Japan, which is almost eight thousand kilometers away. The only support he has is the person he’s fallen head over heels for.

Reki takes a shaky breath and accepts it. He’s going to die.

…

“Reki, welcome home!”

"Glad to be back." Reki says out of habit.

Langa is all smiles and joy as soon as he steps inside. Reki should’ve been home twenty minutes ago, if he hadn’t stopped by a park to try and brainstorm a way out of this. Flights to Japan were too expensive right now, with Thanksgiving and all. He can’t really justify going there for Christmas; it’s a holiday for couples in Japan. The only time Reki and Langa went back to Okinawa was for summer break. Something wilts in his chest, he knows he won’t last that long.

“I got started on the pie crust like you told me.” Langa takes his coat off, snapping him out of his trance. Langa has that certain bounce in his step and look on his face that makes him look like an excited puppy.

Reki feels that straining in his throat. He’s gonna need to get used to that again.

"Can't believe you managed that. Good job, Langa." With the face he's making, Reki can't help but to smile and praise him. "How long's it been there?"

"An hour and a half." Langa responds proudly. Reki ruffles his hair again; he loves the face Langa makes when he does.

"You got started on the crust as soon as you got home?"

"Thanksgiving is on Saturday." Langa points out. "I made enough pie dough for three pies, so we can do one test pie and make two the day of."

"Three pies?" Reki holds up three fingers to confirm. "Are you sure your grandparents aren't gonna give us the leftovers?"

"Your pie is gonna be a smash hit, Reki. You're amazing in everything you do." He feels Langa squeeze his hand as he leads him into their small kitchen "Since we missed Thanksgiving last year, Gran is even flying mom out to celebrate all together for once."

If only Langa's mom could take Reki with her back to Okinawa. Reki sighs, Langa's grandmother can be a bit excitable when it comes to family gatherings. He gathered at least that much from spending Christmas with them last year to make up for Thanksgiving.

"I wish it was five already." The clock shows that it was barely scraping three in the afternoon. Reki splits the dough into thirds. "I miss Miya."

"Me too."

Everyday at five, Miya would (begrudgingly) call them to stay in touch. They'd get ready for school as Reki and Langa made dinner and they were filled in on what was going on at S or at Miya's skating training.

"They're the same age as we were when we first met." Langa absentmindedly notes as he pulls out a chopping board for the pecans, recipe displaying on his phone. "I wonder if he'll find his own best friend there."

Reki takes a break from rolling out the dough to look up at Langa. His expression is neutral, unsurprising. "I'm his best friend." 

"Yeah, but you're also mine. And I’m yours." The chop chop of the pecans cracking under the knife fills the room as Langa speaks. "They deserve their own."

“Jealous much?”

“Always.”

Reki snorts, the action resulting in a small coughing fit, and ignores him. He used to think that he couldn't understand Langa as well as he did back in Okinawa. He knows that English is just a weird language; everybody spouts nonsense every now and then.

He feels a chill in his bones and a pit in his stomach. Did the room just get warmer?

-

“Ryan!” Langa’s grandma calls. “It’s so nice to see you again!”

Langa laughs a little. His grandmother never seems to get Reki’s name right. “It’s Reki, Gran.”

“Yes, yes. Reki.” Langa’s Gran is a tall, plump woman. She always has a bright smile on her face. Langa told him that she used to ski professionally until she retired after an injury. She seems to be very fond of Reki though. Even if she can’t ever remember his name right. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving.” Reki holds up two pies, tins still warm. “We made pies to bring!”

“Isn’t he nice? Showing us all up like that.” Langa’s cousin kicks the side of Langa’s ankle. “All I brought was party shrimp.”

Myrt was kind enough to drive them to Waterloo. She’s sunkissed and loud, in both clothing choices and personality, and a recent University graduate. (She was just itching to brag about it.) Reki doesn’t mind, they get along okay. He knows Myrt gets on Langa’s nerves sometimes.

“We made the pies together.”

“I never said you didn’t!” Myrt slapped Langa’s back, making him stumble. She then turns to their grandmother smiling. “Hey Gran. Where’s Auggie?”

“Back in the house. Reki, it’s quite warm outside, are you sure you want to wear so many layers?”

Myrt said the same thing when she came to pick them up. Reki was actually feeling really warm, but Langa insisted on dressing him in a shirt under his white dress shirt under his sweater because ‘he knows the first signs of a cold when he sees one’. Reki doesn’t feel that sick, but Langa still insists he is. At least he has an excuse for why he was coughing so often.

“I’m good Mrs. Viola.” Langa would probably be pouty all evening if Reki dared take off anything other than his jacket. “Where should I put the pies?”

“Pop them into the oven, we can eat them for dessert.”

Langa’s grandpa greets him when he walks in. He’s playing Pichenotte with Auggie at the kitchen table, Myrt hovering over Auggie’s shoulder. Langa is notoriously bad at the game, even Reki beat him when they first played last Christmas.

“Hey Auggie. Nice haircut.” Reki points to his own red hair, recently dyed again, so it was more vibrant. He should probably get it cut soon, it’s long enough to be tied into a small, lopsided ponytail.

“Thank you.” Auggie mutters. Clearly, they aren’t the social type like their older sister. They’re still in high school, but they're probably smarter than Reki was at their age. Perhaps even smarter than he is now.

“Who’s winning?”

“August is.” Langa’s grandpa, Julian, seems to be carefully thinking over his next move. He shoots one of his disks with too much force, making it teeter dangerously close to the edge. “Smart kid, can’t compete with them anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Auggie says, even when they shoot one of their disks right into the twenty point spot. “You’re good too, Gramps.”

“Bah.” Julian waves, making Reki quietly laugh. The laugh turns into a throat clearing, Reki can feel the softness of petals against the warm wall of his throat. Langa’s hand encircles Reki’s wrist as he pulls Reki aside. “You okay? We can go home if you aren’t feeling well.”

“I’m fine, dude.” He has to be. “Where’s your mom? Didn’t you say your Gran was flying her out?”

“Yeah, she’s staying here for about a week then going back.” Langa rubs Reki's back when he coughs again. “She's with my uncle right now, setting the table. Don’t push yourself, okay?”

“Don’t worry dude.” Reki can hear Viola calling them for dinner. “I’m a hundo percent okay.”

The blue and red English primroses he spits into his hand disagrees. Reki examines them for a bit, finding that the red one is a bit wrinkled and wilted while the blue one has some specks of blood on the edges. Reki frowns and crumples them, throwing them into a nearby garbage can.

How rude of his body to act like this during Thanksgiving dinner. 

…

Alright. He'll admit it; Langa is right. He should have gone home. 

The lethargy kicks in after dinner, when he’s relaxing into the crook of Langa’s arm. His family is playing on some sort of Wii console as they catch up. He likes moments like this, it soothes him knowing that Langa has this smiling group of people looking out for him. It makes him feel nice and warm. Maybe too warm.

Reki coughs dryly into his elbow, wiping off the yellow petal that appears. He was so busy having fun with Langa's family that he didn't notice he felt sick until now. Or maybe he's been sick all along and he just denied it? Langa nudges him with his elbow.

“Are you okay?” He asks when Reki’s eyes met his own. “You feel really warm.”

Reki feels sluggish and dizzy. Maybe he did come down with something. “I think I wanna go to bed.”

“The Thanksgiving crash hitting you already?” Myrt nudges his other side. Reki squirms when her elbow pokes his ribs, where he’s ticklish. He can faintly register Langa’s arm swatting her away, then wrapping around him rather protectively.

“Pa’s already out.” Auggie points to their father with their free hand, Langa’s uncle Felix, dozing in an adjacent armchair. With a flick of their wrist, Auggie's bowling ball gets a strike on the TV. “Your turn, Myrtle.”

“What the hell, Auggie?!” Myrt shouts.

Langa helps Reki up. “We’re turning in for the night.”

Nanako pulls her son’s face down to kiss him goodnight on the cheek. She pauses to kiss Reki’s too. “Good night, Reki.” She wishes him in Japanese.

Ah. He hasn’t heard Japanese in person since he and Langa went back to Okinawa in August. Reki needs a moment to realize that he doesn’t need to decipher any words in that sentence, That he can understand every word in that sentence. His brain basically melts to goo.

“Yeah. Night.” Reki also responds in his native tongue. It was nice to take a break from all the translating and words he couldn’t understand to just say things and not worry about wording them correctly.

Langa gently tugs him up the stairs. Myrt says something and Langa flips her off but Reki’s brain does not have the strength to translate it. Once Langa opens the door for him, Reki immediately flops onto the bed they’ve already shared several times.

Langa’s cool hands come to tug the sweater off of him, tsking when he sees that the dress shirt underneath was soaked. “Reki…”

Reki’s lungs constrict and the next thing Reki knew was that he was coughing violently into his hands. A flower was making its way out and Reki was powerless to stop it.

He fumbles and wrenches his whole body to face away from Langa. Reki gags. He's too delirious to notice Langa pressing himself flat against his back, fingers slipping under his shirt to massage his stomach and whisper things in Japanese into his ear.

"I got you, Reki." He says. "I've got you."

He does. Reki realizes as primroses forcibly climb their way out of his lungs. They feel smaller this time, but more in quantity. Langa has Reki's heart from now until the flowers take over.

After the coughing subsides, Reki's lungs are left ragged and heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Langa pulls away for a bit to dispose of the flowers covered in… something.

It could be blood. It could be spit or phlegm. Reki's too tired to care. He thinks he muttered an apology at some point.

It feels like he's encased in a layer of thick hot sludge, making him so uncomfortably hot and irritable. And still, the cold is unrelenting. It makes him shiver. Reki whines. "Langa…?" He whispers.

Langa returns in an instant, burying his face deep into Reki's sweat soaked scalp and squeezing his hips. 'I'm here.'

Thank god. What would Reki do without him?

…

He wakes up alone the next morning.

Reki rubs his eyes to no avail. They're too tired and crusted over to do anything. Reki groans, forcing himself to sit up. His nose was clogged, great. His head was also pounding and he couldn’t take more than a few slow breaths at a time to get air into his lungs. What? 

Did the sickness grow that fast? Or was it just because he has some sort of cold? The blanket rustled as Reki spotted a few bloodstains on the warm, cream colored blanket. Did he do that? Reki was on the verge of panic before Langa opened the door, making him jump.

“Reki!” Langa almost drops the tray he’s holding. Thankfully he doesn’t and has enough brain power to set the tray down first before tackling Reki into a hug. “Oh god, I was so worried. You were burning up and coughing out flowers and blood and then you stopped responding. I thought you died for a second, I was so, so scared. You said you’d tell me if you were sick!”

He saw?

“You saw?” Reki choked on his next words, sputtering them out in a mix of Japanese and broken English. “I was going to tell you, honest.” Liar. “I just didn’t think Thanksgiving was the right time and you were having so much fun last night I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

It’s scary how quick Reki could spit out lie after lie to someone. But Langa wasn’t just anyone, he was Langa, and Langa seems to doubt him a bit, if the worried, skeptical eyes that scanned him told anything.

“You aren’t… You’re not… dying, right?”

The blood in Rekis veins froze. “Dude, what?”

“My mom…” Langa’s voice breaks in parts, he swallows to combat it. “My mom said that you might have this thing called Hanahaki.”

Oh no.

“She said it’s a disease that comes from Japan. And– and that if you don’t tell the person you love them…”

Oh no no no no.

“You die.”

Langa didn’t know. Langa wasn’t supposed to know. Reki was supposed to keep this a secret until he eventually suffocated in the bathtub or somehow made it back to Japan to take those flower withering pills. Langa was supposed to stay ever oblivious to Reki’s feelings.

“...Don’t worry man.” Reki smiles weakly. Ah… Langa would’ve found out regardless. Reki reasoned in his mind. Langa always pays attention to things about him Reki doesn’t even notice. If he can calm Langa’s anxiety and make him less worried, it would be good enough. “I'll be okay.”

“You’re gonna tell the person you like that you like them?”

“Eventually.” Reki nods. In a letter, probably, not in person. “I’m just not ready yet. I need more time, I still have plenty of that.”

Langa is strangely stiff, Reki can’t read his expression at all, despite years of knowing him. Reki coughs into his hand, peering curiously at the small, red Japanese primrose that now sits in his hand alongside a couple of drops of blood. He pauses for a minute to figure out if the primrose was naturally red or just stained red with his blood.

Langa takes the flower from his hands and crumples it, turning to the tray he left on the nightstand. Face and voice blanker than a fresh Canadian snowfall. “Hanahaki or not, you still have a cold. I helped my Gran make soup for you.”

“Thanks Langa.” Reki squeezes Langa’s wrist when he brings the tray to sit on Reki’s lap. “I know I can always trust you to take good care of me.”

Langa’s expression looks… pained as he pulls away. “I’m glad, Reki.” There’s a beat of melancholic pause before he says something else, almost too quiet for Reki to hear. “I want to take care of you.”

“Okay then.” Reki’s mouth is running before his mind can even hope to catch up. “When you aren’t feeling your best, I do my best to take care of you too.”

Langa sits himself at the end of the bed, a lot farther away from where he would normally be. “Okay.”

Reki peers at the vaguely sad silhouette of his best friend. Langa didn’t feel weird or grossed out by Reki’s dumb disease, did he? “Okay.”

-

October disappears when all the leaves have fallen and been swept up into plastic bags to be disposed of. The end of November is chilly, even so, Reki spends select evenings out on the balcony when Langa is still caught up in schoolwork. It was exam season or something like that, because Langa has been studying more diligently lately.

Reki doesn’t want to disturb him, and he’s been having more trouble breathing lately, so air should be good for his lungs anyway. From this height, Reki can see some of the colorful Christmas lights being strung up in the neighborhood below.

They haven’t talked about Reki’s Hanahaki since Thanksgiving, but Langa still worriedly glances in his direction whenever he has a particularly bad coughing fit. They’ve been happening more and more, Langa says it’s probably because of the dry air, but Reki doesn't believe him. How can air be dry?

The only other reason (that made sense) was that the disease is slowly progressing more each day. Reki doesn't want to touch that possibility.

Honestly, he’s surprised he has lasted this long.

"Hey." Langa knocks the frame of the glass door when he slides it open. There are bags under his blue eyes, he's also still in his pajamas, it doesn't make him look any less adorable. "Get inside, you were just sick."

"A few weeks ago." Reki protests but lets Langa drag him indoors. "Why'd you come get me anyway? Aren't you supposed to be studying?"

"My brain hurts." Langa complains. "Are you hungry?"

“Are you?” Reki only asks out of modesty, he knows that whenever Langa is hungry, he’d ask Reki if he was first. “I’ll cook us something.”

Langa hums, leaning on the counter as Reki crouches to fetch a pot from inside their oven. A trick Reki’s mom taught them was to store extra pots and pans inside the oven for more storage space. “I’m homesick for Joe’s pasta.”

“I miss Joe’s food too.” Langa pulls some pasta from their small pantry. “But your cooking is good.”

“Even when it comes out burnt?”

“Especially then. Adds flavor.”

“There’s something wrong with you, man.” The knobs of the stove click when they turn, breathing in the gas that’s released makes Reki’s breathing uneven. It’s a badly timed breath that coincides with the fire lighting that sends Reki into a coughing fit. His left hand slips from the counter top, giving his palm a horrible burn.

Tears blur his vision as he coughs and coughs, unburned hand to his throat, trying to squeeze the flowers out. He can see blood on the floor. He feels as if he was dunked in cold water, it chills him to his very soul. Oh god, is he actually going to die?

“Reki!” Langa kneels beside him. Reki shoves Langa’s hands away as he heaves again, forcibly swallowing the flowers once they reach his mouth, not wanting to worry him.

The petals taste of iron and dirt.

“Reki…” Langa hesitates, but reaches out again. This time, Reki didn’t stop him. Langa brushes the burn on his hand, looking fully unsure of what to do.

“I’m fine. I’m good, man.” Reki forces himself up, wobbling a bit as his lungs fail him yet again. “Nothing I haven't dealt with before, what’s with the look on your face, huh?”

Langa looks so defeated. There’s that unreadable emotion again; even after a month, Reki can’t decipher it. “I think I should cook.”

“Okay.” Reki’s voice is absolutely destroyed, he can barely recognize the syllables coming out of his own mouth. He hauls himself to the couch, collapsing. That coughing fit took more out of him than any of the other ones he had. Even compared to his previous case of Hanahaki he had.

Ah… That wasn’t good. He didn’t have much time left.

…

Reki stared at the ceiling, sleeping in his own bed for once. The clock tells him that it’s one in the morning. Langa is still working furiously at his desk, he hasn’t spoken since Reki burnt his hand. Maybe he's upset. The mattress is too firm and unfamiliar, he doesn’t know why he chose to sleep here tonight; it’s not like he ever has.

Admitting defeat, Reki crawls out of his bed, taking his comforter with him to flop onto Langa’s familiar sheets. He pauses, staring up at the popcorn ceiling now partially lit with the warm glow of Langa’s desk light. "Before I die, will you take me to the Statue of Liberty?"

Langa spares him a glance before turning back to typing on his laptop. "That's in the United States."

"How about taking me to Vegas?"

"Still in the States."

"Man." Reki rolls over. "Canada is kinda boring."

"Yeah, there's not much written about us in other countries."

Reki nods. "But you like it like that, yeah?"

"Yeah. Gives us some mystery."

“Makes you boring.”

Langa turns to him, face fully serious. “Reki, I’m not going to let you die.”

Reki throws an arm over his eyes to avoid Langa’s gaze. “That’s beyond your control.”

“I’m being serious.” Langa pries Reki’s arm away gently, now sitting on the edge of his bed, cradling Reki’s burnt hand in his own. Langa’s hands are bigger and paler than his, they’re also less calloused, with him ultimately falling less on his skateboard than Reki does. “If it came down to it, I’ll make you confess to the person you like.”

Taking a breath steels Reki against Langa’s earnest eyes. “You don’t… even know who it is.”

Langa looks taken aback. He closes his eyes to save himself the pain of Langa never knowing. Reki mourns the sight of Langa that disappears as soon as his eyelids close, the yellow lamp light made it look like Langa was checking up on him under the Okinawa sun.

He missed home.

The pain hits him here and there. Maybe the reason Langa means so much to Reki is because he really is the only thing Reki has that came from Okinawa, other than himself. This country was strange, and so different from everything he grew up around. This… was probably what Langa felt the whole time he was in Okinawa.

Was it easier for him that he understood the spoken language better? Was Reki ever that comfort to Langa in Japan like Langa is to him in Canada?

“I’ll find out.” Langa’s voice brings Reki back to their little apartment somewhere in Toronto. He throws his best friend a questioning look when Reki finally registers the words Langa said. “I’ll find out who you’ll like, and I’ll make sure you tell them how much you do.”

“Because I know you, Reki.” He continues. “I know how passionate you are about things… so you must love this person very much to develop an illness that basically forces you to tell them.”

“It… doesn’t bother you? That I have a garden growing in my lungs? And I look and feel disgusting most of the time? And that I can't really do anything on my own anymore?” Recently, Reki has been given a temporary leave from his apprenticeship because all the saw dust and fumes from the finishing polish set off too many coughing fits. His supervisor didn’t 100% understand Hanahaki, but he was very sympathetic towards him.

“I think you look amazing no matter what.” Langa shuts off his lamp, crawling under the covers to place his head onto Reki’s chest. “Your lungs sound clogged.”

Reki snorts. “It’s ‘cause they are.”

Langa mutters something, then rubs a hand in circle motion, over Reki’s heart. “I don’t want you to die.” He confesses to the dark.

“I’m not.” Reki smiles, pinching Langa’s cheek. “Apparently, some stubborn Canadian won’t let me.”

Langa’s glare has less effect on him. It might be the moonlight seeping in through the windows that illuminates Langa’s eyes, making his features softer, and making his glare seem more like a pout.

If Reki had liked anybody else, maybe Langa would’ve actually found out who it was and made Reki confess. But Reki can’t imagine liking anybody other than Langa anymore. Maybe they were destined to be friends. Maybe Reki was destined to fall in love with Langa.

Reki’s heart felt like it was being stabbed as he coughed again.

-

“Do you think Koyomi would like this?” Reki held out a pink strawberry dress. His Hanahaki has been relatively calm today, allowing him to accompany Langa for a late night shopping trip to gather school supplies, even though winter break was coming. No skateboards, too much ice. 

A week ago marked Reki surviving two months of Hanahaki. He might make it to the new year if he continues being lucky. He turns the pink dress over in his hands. It should fit Koyomi. His younger sister was entering her second year of highschool and the pictures his mom sends him tell him that she’s grown a lot.

"She would." Langa nods in approval. "It's gonna take extra money if you want to ship that to Japan and have it arrive before Christmas, though."

"Dude." Reki places the dress neatly into his basket. "Have you never noticed? Christmas is more of a couple's holiday there. I'm just buying presents now to get into the Canadian Christmas mood, y'know?"

"Is it more of a couple's thing?" Langa furrows his eyebrows. "I never noticed. Stores were always decorated."

"Yeah, with a dumb plant that makes you kiss the other person over every entrance."

"Didn't you notice I always held the door for you in December?"

"Right… you did." Langa pauses as he thinks. "Did you not want to kiss me?"

“Dude.” Reki elbows Langa as he drops the dress into the basket. He did want to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Langa a lot. He still does, but he’s accepted that it was just a stupid daydream he had as a stupid teenager. “Do you have any presents to buy?”

“No. I have presents ready for everyone.” Langa looks through the basket again before heading to the checkout area. “And you?”

Reki shrugs. With permission from his supervisor, he was allowed to make little wooden beads out of a thick Japanese maple branch his stepfather sent him. The beads were then made into necklaces and bracelets to give out to some of his friends in his apprenticeship program and Langa’s cousins.

He’s also made a tea set for Langa’s grandparents, a pair of vases for Langa's mother and an articulated bear family for Langa’s uncle, all out of firewood and other spare chunks of wood his supervisor let him get his hands on.

He still has yet to make a gift for Langa though. Mostly because he was put on break just before he was about to get started on it. Great. Wow. He’s so happy about that.

Langa nudges Reki to snap him back to reality, gesturing to the automated doors. Reki sighs and follows him outside, he’ll think of something. His chest squeezes uncomfortably yet again, the feeling seemd like it was fully squeezing his heart out, making a wave of nausea punch his gut.

“Hold on– Hold on a minute, dude.” Reki pauses to catch his fleeting breath.

Langa has that same agitated look on his face. “Reki…”

They’re quiet for a minute until Reki finally starts to breathe again. “Dude, you gotta stop saying my name like that.”

“Why?”

“Because! It's–! It's…” It hurts. It hurts to know that Langa is so concerned for him, and it hurts to know that Langa might really be the person that will miss him the most when he dies. Reki buries his face into his hands. He can’t say that to Langa though. “Embarrassing.”

“Is it really?” Langa looked deep in thought. ”I'm… sorry.”

“No, dude, it's just–!” Reki tries to comfort him but nothing comes out. He puts a hand on his chest, like that will soothe the ache. He said he wouldn’t tell Langa because Reki doesn’t want to lose him, but by dying, wouldn’t Reki be the one leaving Langa?

“Reki.” Langa says again, taking said hand into his. Reki pulls back on instinct but Langa follows. He follows everywhere Reki goes, just like Reki does to him.

Reki puts their hands on Langa's chest instead, to stop him from coming closer. Of course, that doesn't work; Langa still presses his forehead to Reki's. “I think… you should tell the person you like soon.”

 “I can’t.” Reki’s face sours as he pulls his head away. “I don’t want to lose a good friend.”

“They must be crazy if they don’t want you to be their friend.” Langa huffs, turning on his heels to lead them both back to their apartment. In a smaller voice, he says, “But at least I know now that the person you like is one of your friends.”

Reki trips over himself as he curses his stupid mouth for letting that spill. Reki has some friends from his apprenticeship course that Langa is acquainted with, and he has some mutual friends he shares with Langa too. Langa might start asking around.

“Can I ask more questions about them?” Langa’s back is to him, forcing Reki to stare at his long blue hair as they walk under streetlight after streetlight. “Are they a boy or a girl?”

Ah, whatever. It’s unlikely that Langa would ever suspect himself of being that person Reki likes. He always skips over himself like that. So Reki answers in a whisper, because that’s all his lungs would allow. “He’s a boy.”

"Do I know him?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I think that I know him better than you."

“Ah. Is he pretty?”

“The most gorgeous thing there is.”

Langa falls silent as they enter their apartment building, checking the contents of the bag as they wait for the elevator. Reki was pretty tired. Suppressing the flowers when they try to grow out will only make the Hanahaki fester more, something he read about after researching the illness more in depth while Langa slept.

When the elevator finally arrives, Langa leans against the mirrored surface to watch the digital numbers crawl up. “You care about them a lot, huh?”

His voice, it sounded… sad. Hurt. Langa is different from Reki, in how he doesn’t deny or divert attention away from his sadness, quite the opposite. In fact, the next words out of his mouth are wobbly, accompanied by tears. “I don’t want you to die.”

“Oh dude…” Reki shoots to wipe the tears spilling from Langa’s eyes. Langa continues to snivel, even as the elevator reaches their floor and leaves.

“You still have so much to live for.” Langa said in between tears. “I want you to be happy. I want you to be alive.”

“I am happy,” Reki pressed the button for their floor again. “I am alive.” He squished Langa’s cheeks to get him to look Reki in the eye. Reki could feel the flowers building in his throat already. He coughs a bit, but trudges on regardless. “I’m with you, what more would I ask for?”

Langa stares, unblinking even as the tears continue to spill. After a moment, he wipes his eyes, then turns to face the door. Reki turns too. Silence fills the elevator, save for some sniffles from Langa.

“I like you.”

Reki looks up in surprise, just to see Langa get hit by another wave of tears. “Langa?”

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” The door to the elevator closes once again as they again fail to step off. “I– I don't know when it happened. It just did. And– and it's so stupid.”

Langa's hand is to his chest as he frustratedly pushes the button to their floor. “I know you like somebody else. So I don’t get it, why does it hurt…? Why won’t it go away?”

Reki can't believe his ears, what is he hearing? Langa pulls away when he tries to reach for his hand. "Langa." Reki quietly says, voice disbelieving and almost desperate.

"Langa–" He's cut off by coughing. Reki spits a mouthful of bloody flowers onto the tiled elevator floor, his feet are wobbling but he needs to get to Langa. “Langa.”

“Reki.” Langa blinks away tears, shifting his priorities to reach out to steady him. “Oh no, okay. Stop talking. Talking will only make it worse.”

Reki knows that, but he is going to get better, he knows now. “Langa, wait. Please.”

Langa patiently rubs Reki’s back as he tries to catch his breath. Even with blood spilling out of his mouth, Langa waits.

“How about I tell you more about the person I like, huh?” Reki smiles. He's so sure that blood was staining his teeth and there might be petals stuck to his gums but he can’t bring himself to care, he’s so happy. He doesn’t remember being this happy since the day Langa asked him to go to Canada with him.

Langa slowly blinks then nods, even as his face darkens with a smidge of a hurt expression.

“He’s stupid, doesn’t think things out before saying them. He’s so unaware of his surroundings most of the time, it’s almost comical, but when it comes to me, he’s the most doting thing in the world.” Reki hears the ding of the elevator, they just missed their floor again. “But I love him. I love the way he looks in the now, or even at home in the sun. I love his passion for things and I can’t believe that I’m one of them.”

Langa is still staring, clearly not getting it, so Reki continues. “He wants a cat, even though I’ve told him several times that I wanted a dog, and his family likes me too. I’m so happy that he has so many people who care about him.”

His throat clogs as he hacks up another pair of flowers. The inside of his throat was totally destroyed, he’s sure. Reki’s voice doesn’t even sound like himself anymore.

“Langa,” He says, breathless. “I love you.”

Reki can feel his lungs relax, even without the oxygen Langa steals when he kisses him.

-

“I don't have a gift for you this year.” Is the first thing Reki says when he wakes up the next morning. He finds Langa in their small kitchen, making an omelet because he was missing his mom.

“Is that really what you’re concerned about right now?” Langa kisses the crook of his neck as soon as Reki is close enough. “Shouldn't you be more focused on getting rid of your Hanahaki?”

“I'm cured!”

“No, the flowers just stopped growing.” There's a hand on Reki's waist, squeezing the fabric gently when he roughly clears his throat. “You're still gonna cough up flowers for the next month or so until they're fully gone.”

“Done some research, huh?”

“Of course. I was worried about you.” Langa kisses his temple. He splits the omelet in half to serve to Reki, but the latter stops him.

“You have class in an hour, I'm gonna be home all day.” Reki pushes the plate Langa was in the middle of grabbing back into the cabinet. “You eat, I'll make something else.” 

A frown from Langa, obviously unhappy. "But I wanna share with you."

"We both know if you share then you're gonna be hungry and then not pay attention in any of your classes. Eat." Reki says with finality.

Langa pouts, pointing at his cheek. “At least give me a kiss.”

Reki stutters. “What?”

“Like you did last night. Give me a kiss.”

The worst thing he could do was being up last night, one of the best, yet most embarrassing moments in Reki's life. Missing their floor three times, you gotta be kidding. Reki pulls himself out of his grip, covering his fully mortified face. “Langa!”

“Do you want me to give you a kiss instead?”

"Langa!"

-

Reki is eventually able to make Langa's Christmas gift, even if it was a month late, out of a huge wood chunk of a maple tree. It’s alright, there was still snow on the ground, there was still snow on the mountains.

His gift is a pair of snowboards, one bluer than the sky and one the warmest yellow there is.

Snowboarding and skateboarding were very different things, Langa loves them both, but he loves Reki more. Snowboarding may not be infinite, but at the very least, Reki and Langa were.