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It's a Friday evening, 6:53 pm, and Langa is sitting in his mostly empty studio apartment staring at the blank white wall across from him. The room's furniture is sparse, and that is being generous. It mainly consists of the tiny grey couch he is seated on right now, a small wooden table with two rickety chairs (tables with only one chair look weird, that's the only reason there are two), a small night stand next to a queen-size bed (Langa is a messy sleeper), a closet, a shabby (and mostly empty) bookshelf and a TV on the wall. There is also a bathroom and the kitchenette around the corner.
Langa is used to being alone by now. Since he moved across the country to start working for a company he has grown to hate, he is alone all the time.
Yet, it feels different today. Or, to be more precise, it has been feeling different for exactly a week now. Today a week ago was a special day, an exceptional day to Langa. He genuinely thought of it as marking a new beginning in his life. Now, he isn't so sure anymore. Feels betrayed, even.
A week ago Langa met a person radiating such contagiously positive energy that he got infected with it. And the person himself. Within just a few hours, Reki Kyan had made his way into Langa's heart, and if he is being honest, Langa fears that he will never leave the space he claimed for himself.
Only to disappear again, like a shooting star lighting up the night for a tiny moment. He had said he would be in touch shortly. Under the given circumstances, a week is far from "shortly", isn't it? He should probably give it up and move on. It had been too good to be true anyway.
A demanding "meow" momentarily pulls Langa out of his moping.
At least he has his cat, Miya. Langa had found him roaming the streets around his apartment a few months ago. He had been so small, only a kitten, meowingly begging for food. When Langa couldn't find the owner he simply took him home after having fed him outside for a few days. The all-black cat with its piercing green gaze had kind of reminded Langa of himself: lost, and lonely, and in desperate need of love. He's a demanding little prince of a cat, but Langa does love him. Dearly.
Right now, Miya is enthroned on Langa's lap and misses his stroking hand. With a deep sigh, Langa complies and starts scratching the cat's ears, eliciting a satisfied purr. At least one of them seems to be able to enjoy himself today.
Taking care not to startle Miya, Langa slowly sinks back into the cushions, for the millionth time replaying the course of events on the afternoon of last Friday…
Langa had once again put off doing his laundry for way too long. It wasn't that he didn't notice the consistently growing pile of dirty clothes next to the overflowing laundry basket in the corner of his (tiny) bathroom; he wasn't blind after all. But doing the laundry meant taking his huge pile of dirty clothes, stuffing everything into the two giant bags he had acquired for this purpose and leaving his apartment for the laundromat about fifteen minutes of brisk walking away. Fifteen minutes in public, with his dirty-clothes bags swung over his shoulders. He didn't like drawing attention, at all.
And then the laundromat itself. Sometimes he was lucky to find it void of people, filled with nothing but the hum and rumble of the running washing machines and tumble dryers. If this was the case, he hurried to transfer his clothes from the bags into at least two empty washing machines as fast as possible to hopefully be able to leave again before anyone else could enter. Last week's Friday had been like that.
As always, Langa had approached the laundromat's store window rather carefully, sneaking glances inside to check whether it was safe to enter. To his delight, he didn't spot a single person. Perfect. Now much more confidently, he entered the little space housing 12 washing machines, neatly arranged on the long sides of the room facing the opposite wall, and, separated by a short corridor, another 8 tumble dryers. Conveniently, both rooms were visible from the street. Langa liked the sounds of the busy machinery; it was soothing in a way. The only problem was that he would never be able to truly relax in a space like this, where he could be faced with an unexpected human being at any moment.
Right now, there were no human beings, though. Which meant Langa should hurry to maximize the odds of avoiding an encounter altogether. He hastily pulled open the drawstring on one of his beige-colored bags and began dumping the contents into his favorite washer located in the front left corner of the room, right next to the store window – because this was the least visible area from outside. Every time he leaned forward to stuff another handful of laundry into the drum, a few strands of wispy blue hair come loose from his ponytail fell into his face and blocked his sight; and every time he unsuccessfully tried blowing them away. Maybe he really should just cut it, like his colleague Kaoru always suggested (though Langa suspected the guy was only pissed because he used to be the only man with long, glossy hair at the company, and he was afraid of Langa stealing the show from him – not that Langa himself thought he could in any way compete with someone as perfect as that pink-haired beauty).
Having somehow managed to cram the contents of the first bag into one washing machine (he needed to save money, okay?) and started the program, Langa turned to the appliance next to it. It wasn't running, and it wasn't closed, either, but instead standing ajar. Which was weird – as far as he could remember he had never found a machine left behind like this. After all, they should be left to dry after usage (i.e. the door should be wide open), and he had thought that all customers frequenting this place were aware of this (unwritten) rule.
Whatever. Langa shrugged to himself and pulled the door open – only to discover the drum was already stuffed with laundry. Laundry that was still dry, very evidently (especially to Langa's rather sensitive nose) not washed yet. Had the owner forgotten to start the machine? Nobody would intentionally leave their laundry unattended in a laundromat when it was neither being washed nor dried, right? He examined the clothes with his gaze. All he could tell was that they were very colorful. The exact opposite of his own color palette. (He wore black sneakers, black jeans and a dark grey, knitted sweater that day.)
"Ah, that's my stuff!"
Langa felt his heart jump out of his chest and join his clothes tumbling in the washing machine. He froze in place, too startled to move for a moment. The loud, almost excruciatingly cheerful voice had come completely unexpected. Did he miss the jingle of the entrance door that reliably sounded every time it was opened? No, he was way too alert for that.
Before Langa had even fully realized that the voice had come from the exact opposite side of the room from the entrance door, a blob of colors appeared in his peripheral vision.
"Sorry, did I scare you?", the blob asked, and Langa finally managed to turn his head towards the voice's owner. He would have known it were his clothes even if he hadn't told him already. The guy was so colorful from head to toe that Langa was reminded of a parrot. A rather handsome parrot, to be fair.
The onslaught of colors this young man was started with the fiery red hair on top of his head. It was spiky and messy and wild, and a lopsided yellow headband plastered with smiley faces prevented it from completely covering his face. The oversized hoodie he wore was hot pink on the torso, gradually changing into a deep, rich red from where the sleeves were attached to the ends of them, and the chest area was decorated with the word "FUN!" in fat green capital letters. His baggy sweatpants were an ordinary grey (thank god!), but then came the sneakers – yellow stripes on dark blue. Seriously, the parrot had been a fitting comparison.
Strangely enough, Langa wasn't half as irritated by this weird clothing style than by his own reaction to parrot guy's face. The pretty little nose, slightly upturned and covered in freckles, just like the rather blushy cheeks that still had a boyish roundness to them. His perfectly swung lips and eyebrows.
But what really stood out to Langa were the guy's amber eyes. There was a shine to them, like molten sunlight, and simultaneously a depth Langa felt himself inexplicably drawn to.
"Uhm, you okay?", the perfect lips asked, and Langa realized he had been staring. Open-mouthed, at that. He quickly clapped his jaws shut, helplessly blinking at the stranger that was now slightly wrinkling his brows.
He asked if you're okay!, Langa reminded himself, and finally managed to nod, feeling rather hot.
"Yes", he said to emphasize the gesture. Remembering the guy's preceding questions, he incoherently added: "And no. You didn't scare me." He had been startled, yes, but not scared. "And" – a quick glance towards the dirty clothes in the washing machine in front of him – "I… figured. That it's your stuff, I mean."
Langa watched his expression change from the slight frown to raised eyebrows, accompanied by a crooked smile that evolved into a full-out grin. It looked good on him, that grin. It also made Langa feel even warmer inside.
"Ooookay, I get it!" The redhead nodded a few times, giving himself a mocking once-over. "I usually pay more attention to how I combine my stuff, just sayin'." He threw Langa another flashing grin before he added: "I was in the corridor, by the way."
"In the… corridor…?", Langa repeated sheepishly, his brain still not fully caught up on what was happening.
"Yeah, when you came in, I mean?", the guy supplied. "So you didn't notice me, I guess?"
Ah. That made sense.
Langa nodded. "Uh-huh."
"To be honest, I was hoping to find a coin", parrot guy continued, seemingly unfazed by Langa's slowness of uptake. "I'm short exactly one hundred-yen coin and I thought it'd be stupid to run back home so I just, y'know, checked the floor if maybe someone lost one. No luck, though."
He finished with an embarrassed chuckle, but his contagious cheerfulness hadn't faded one bit.
Oh. So he hadn't started his washing machine yet because he didn't have enough money. Langa was glad he was finally beginning to make sense of the situation. Should he offer him a hundred yen? It was not that much money, but Langa wasn't exactly wealthy, either.
He didn't have the time to think it through further.
"You don't think you could maybe…?", the redhead hinted hopefully, self-consciously scratching the back of his neck and looking at Langa with something akin to puppy eyes.
"Oh, no problem!", Langa found himself agreeing quick like a shot before he could even start considering it. Where had that come from?!
"Really?" His opposite started excitedly bouncing on his feet. "Awww, man, thank you so much, you're my hero!"
Langa only stared at him (again), still trying to process what he had just done. It wasn't a big deal, really, but he had surprised himself so much he felt a bit out of it (still).
"I'm Reki, by the way!"
Reki. A good name, Langa decided. It suited him.
"And you are…?"
"Langa", Langa replied, glad to for once be sure about what to say.
"Langa", the guy named Reki repeated, slowly, like he wanted to taste the sound on his tongue. "So, Langa, should we get our machines started, then?"
Langa found himself nodding, once again without even thinking. If he didn't know any better he'd say this colorful person bubbling over with enthusiasm must have enchanted him.
Once they had gotten their washing machines up and running, neither of the two showed any inclination to leave the laundromat for the time it would take their clothes to wash. Which, in Langa's case, was quite the feat. As a general rule, he didn't like people. There were exceptions, naturally, but it usually took him a long time to warm up to someone. For reasons unbeknownst to him, this weird person having sponged a hundred yen off of him felt safe.
Meanwhile, Reki seemed to have taken a liking to bending Langa's ears. They just kept talking. And talking.
Reki planted himself on top of his machine (which Langa thought was probably not allowed, but whatever), while Langa took a seat on the single chair that was awkwardly placed in the middle of the room. (Only after first transferring it to the left corner right in front of his first washing machine where he would be least visible, of course.)
To Langa, the whole situation felt surreal. He didn't even have to fight the urge to leave as soon as humanly possible – there was no such urge.
It took about ten minutes for him to learn a few basic things about Reki:
1. He liked to talk a lot, and he liked being listened to even more.
2. He didn't mind Langa's awkwardness (or if he did, he hid it very well).
3. He made Langa feel like all the wrong things in the world could fall into place.
They (well, mostly Reki) talked about everything and nothing at the same time. Now and again, people entered the laundromat and left again, but Langa realized he didn't mind. He found that it was not awkward when he was with somebody else.
And talking to Reki felt so easy. Despite their obvious differences – Reki was like a bubbly little ray of sunshine, Langa like a cold, gaping fish; Reki was dressed like happiness and confidence, Langa like he was planning to attend a funeral; Reki was beautiful and, yes, incredibly cute, Langa was… basic, at best –, okay, contrasts, it felt like Reki got him.
He didn't cringe every time Langa looked at him questioningly when he didn't understand something Reki was telling him about. Instead, he always gifted him a kind smile and patiently explained it to him.
Reki also listened to what Langa had to say. And the fact that Langa wanted to say something was quite phenomenal in itself. He didn't like talking, at least as long as he didn't know the other person exceptionally well. If he thought about it, he had only ever managed to get as bubbly as Reki when he was with his parents. And while he didn't exactly get bubbly now, with Reki, he did enjoy talking to him. A guy he had met less than half an hour ago.
After such a short amount of time, Langa genuinely wanted to get to know this person, and he wanted Reki to get to know him in return. And once they knew each other, Langa thought, he might be able to get bubbly with him, too.
They found out that both of them were the same age, 24. That weird time in life where some people seemed to already have it all figured out and others only just started coming to terms with being an actual adult (the latter being the case for both Reki and Langa, they quickly agreed).
Reki told Langa about the struggles with his studies (he was studying art history but had long noticed that he'd much rather do the art himself), how he missed his family that lived in Okinawa (he had three younger sisters), his passion for skateboarding, his dreams of traveling the world and seeing the real Statue of Liberty one day, and how he had two left feet when it came to dancing (but still loved doing it in the safety of his dorm room).
In return, Langa talked about his detested job as an accountant at a rather fancy fashion company that he moved across the country for, his mom that he left behind for the same reason, causing him to feel guilty (and lonely) each and every day; he even briefly mentioned his dad who used to be his best friend and died in a car accident several years ago (something he never intentionally told anyone before), and how he always wished he could go about his days completely unnoticed. How he felt he could never be himself with anyone.
"What about friends?", Reki inquired. The topic was a vulnerable one for Langa, but it was obvious Reki was asking out of genuine interest. He didn't seem like the type to make fun of Langa if he told him the truth.
"To be honest, I don't have any", he thus replied. It probably wasn't exactly surprising after what he had already disclosed. "I never really fit in. People don't understand me, and I don't understand them. I" – he quickly glanced at Reki, only to be met with the kindest, warmest gaze of his amber eyes – "I think I'm just not made for human connection."
Why, why did it feel wrong to say this? It had always been true; how could a little time spent with a stranger change this concept that, to Langa, was universally applicable?
"I never really fit in, either", Reki admitted quietly, to Langa's surprise. "People usually don't say it in my face, but I notice in their reactions. I'm too much for them. Like, you just witnessed yourself how I start rambling as soon as I find someone who listens. That's just… me. I can try suppressing it, but it never works for long."
"I like listening to you", Langa said with emphasis, because he did.
A moment of silence ensued.
Damn, that had been too much, hadn't it? Now Reki probably thought he was desperate. But it was true. It was fun, listening to Reki, not having to contribute much to the conversation and still being acknowledged. And what he talked about was interesting, too. Langa felt his face heat up and for once he was happy about his annoying loose strands of hair partly covering it up.
Langa felt Reki's eyes on him, and when he looked up, he was met with a smile. One that didn't look fake or embarrassed at all; emotional, if anything.
"Thank you", Reki whispered, and his voice sounded suspiciously scratchy. "You can be yourself around me, you know? I like realness."
Okay, so maybe Langa hadn't overstepped. Or they both had, because what Reki just said definitely wasn't appropriate to say to someone you met an hour ago.
Langa found himself returning Reki's smile.
They did change back to lighter topics while transferring their freshly washed clothes to the tumble driers. And it just… felt natural. Like they were old friends catching up, having a good time together. Langa couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in doubt when Reki insisted that banana bread only worked with peanut butter (as long as it was food and edible, Langa was fine with any combination). Reki jokingly made fun of Langa when he admitted he once passed out from cutting his finger on a piece of paper because he couldn't tolerate blood. And while he still couldn't quite believe this was real, Langa noticed how he began to unbend little by little. When in the beginning he had mostly smiled or replied concisely to what Reki said, he suddenly found himself snickering at the idea of Reki trying to open a door with his two younger twin sisters balanced on his arms. He found himself exclaiming "I bet it was a beautiful place to grow up!" when Reki vividly described the gorgeous beaches and diverse sea life of Okinawa. He found himself getting excited. Feeling alive.
Langa hadn't been aware of how unalive he had felt before, but it was a difference like night and day. He never wanted this to end.
Finally, their clothes were washed, dried, and securely packed into their bags, though. Ready to leave. Langa had ended up treating Reki's clothes to a round in the tumble dryer as well since he would have had to walk home with them still wet otherwise. (The only part mattering to Langa being "would have had to walk home".)
For a moment, they just stood there outside the laundromat, staring at each other. A little awkward, maybe. Well, Langa would not be the one to go first. He might never have been very good at expressing himself, but he was stubborn, and when he knew what he wanted, he would do what he could to get it.
Luckily, Reki seemed to want the same.
"So, um, do you have any plans for tonight?", he asked casually, but there was a little hopeful smile playing around his lips.
Langa shook his head rather energetically, but he didn't care.
"Feel like grabbing a bite to eat together, then?", Reki amended in reply.
"I'd love that."
"Me too."
They decided to meet up again in half an hour at a fast food restaurant both of them were frequent customers of. It wouldn't be the best idea to bring freshly washed clothes to a smelly place like that, after all.
Before they parted, Reki stressed: "And remember, no dressing up. If you're not there in half an hour, I'll just eat alone!" With these words, followed by an especially cheeky grin, Reki turned on his heels and took off in what had to be the direction of his dorm.
It was a weird feeling, standing there in front of the laundromat and staring after another person. Longingly. Because that's what Langa did. He should turn around, too, and hurry back home to make sure he would be there in time. But it was only when the colorful shape that was Reki had turned a corner and was no longer visible that Langa found the willpower to move.
Despite his best efforts, Langa did not make it to their agreed meeting time. He would have liked to blame it on all the streetlights having been red and made him wait, but he really should have taken that possibility into account. It was only himself and the way he hadn't realized if it normally took him fifteen minutes from the laundromat to his apartment and about the same time from his apartment to the burger place, he would have had to hurry to unlock his door, throw his bags of fresh clothes into his apartment, lock the door again and immediately head out. Instead, there had been a hungry cat waiting for him at home, demanding to be fed. There had been his nervousness leading to him at least minimally adjusting his hair, putting on some more deodorant and checking his face in the mirror for about a minute. When he left his apartment again, he had five minutes left to reach their meeting place.
Langa was late; but contrary to what he had said, Reki was waiting for him in front of the brightly illuminated fast food restaurant with the giant burger-shaped neon sign above its entrance.
Reki hadn't even gone inside, not to mention started eating without him. Langa's heart squeezed at the sight of his laundromat acquaintance with his arms folded, seemingly shivering in the crisp evening air. He couldn't help but notice that Reki, too, had checked his appearance and exchanged the smiley headband for a neutral black one, and the pink-red hoodie for a much plainer sunflower yellow one. It didn't alter the way Langa perceived him (the sunflower was a good hint), but it made his heart beat a little faster with the realization that Reki obviously cared to make a good impression, too. As if he hadn't done that already.
"Sorry to make you wait!", Langa called as soon as he was within hearing distance. It earned him a welcoming wave from Reki, accompanied by one of his radiant smiles. Had they really met for the first time mere hours ago? Langa felt like he wouldn't be able to live without this smile anymore.
"But I'm happy you did wait", Langa amended rather boldly once he had reached his new friend(?). Almost teasingly. He didn't recognize himself today, and he found that it didn't bother him at all.
"'Course I did, man", Reki laughed, taking Langa in with his gaze. "Um, actually…" He raised his hands in an apologetic, helpless gesture. "I can't believe I'm so dumb but I kinda forgot to bring money, so…"
Langa, who had long fallen for the whirlwind of (sometimes apparently uncoordinated) energy that Reki was couldn't hold back a fond smile. He trusted Reki, he realized. It wasn't reasonable, and he should have been suspicious considering that he didn't know anything about this person for certain and was now setting about paying for him the third time in a row. But he wasn't suspicious. In fact, aside from his parents, Langa had never felt safer and more at peace with anyone before.
"Seems to be a thing today", Langa replied mildly. "I don't mind paying your food, Reki."
Now, Langa was far from an expert when it came to reading facial expressions, but to him it certainly looked like Reki was blushing when Langa said his name. He couldn't wait to try a few more times tonight.
"I feel awful about this", a still red-cheeked Reki confessed while they proceeded to enter the restaurant. "Next time I'll pay for you, I promise!"
Next time?
The warmth blooming in Langa's chest now dwarfed all the other fond sentiments he had experienced over the course of this afternoon. Reki wanted to see him again. Maybe he should tell him his apartment had enough room for two? Slow, Langa, one step at a time.
"Sounds only fair", he thus replied with a smile.
"Then it's a deal!"
"But I should warn you: I eat a lot."
Reki laughed. "I think I'll manage."
They studied the menu and got themselves some burgers and fries. (Langa's pile of food ended up about thrice the size of Reki's, so paying for him didn't make that much of a difference, anyway.)
It was a lovely evening that passed in what felt like a heartbeat. One minute they had taken their seats in one of the restaurant's booths, the next they stood in front of the shop windows facing each other to say goodbye. Couldn't they skip the next few steps of getting to know each other and simply stick together forever? Langa's world had been completely thrown upside down in the past few hours. Would he be able to go about his life as usual? Like nothing had happened when everything had changed?
"Hey, I just wanted to say…" Reki gazed at Langa's face for a moment before almost bashfully averting his eyes. "Your hair. It looks gorgeous in that ponytail. I mean it looks gorgeous anyway, but that hairstyle really suits you."
Langa was speechless. This wasn't the first compliment Reki had made tonight. Earlier, he had stared at Langa's eyes for way longer than should be socially acceptable (not that Langa minded) and then blurted that they looked like an ocean or a glacier and reminded him of his home. He had proceeded to stuff his face with fries, but Langa hadn't missed the flustered redness that had spread across his cheeks.
Reki was adorable, and Langa couldn't help the impression that he genuinely liked him, Langa. It should be okay to let him know Langa liked him, too. Not necessarily romantically (okay, who was he fooling?), but… in general.
"Then let me tell you something too. I like the way you dress. No matter right now or earlier. This colorfulness fits your personality. You don't have to try and blend in."
For what must have been the twentieth time that day they only looked at each other. To Langa, the most prominent emotion was wonder, wonder about the fact that they really hit it off so well. That they got along without any weird get-to-know phase. That they just fit together like two exceptionally shaped puzzle pieces – different, but compatible. It was too good to be true, and yet, he had experienced it for hours now.
Reki smiled at him fondly, his shining eyes crinkling at the edges. "That's really sweet of you to say. Thank you."
Sweet. If he carried on like this, Reki would be the end of Langa. An end he wouldn't even be able to mourn.
"I really gotta go now" – Langa's heart sank at the realization they would have to part ways – "but lemme just…" Reki fished his phone out of his hoodie's front pocket, unlocked it and proceeded to throw Langa an expectant look.
It took a moment for Langa to understand what the gesture meant. When he did, he felt his insides flood with warmth all over again, joined by a strange fluttery sensation in his stomach that he decided to ignore for now. Reki wanted his number. So they could keep in touch.
"Oh", Langa breathed. He hurried to share his contact info with Reki. Who sent him a text right away, to make sure the number was correct.
A "Hiiii :D :D :D" flashed up on Langa's phone screen, and it was so Reki that Langa had to suppress a fond smile at his phone. He saved his new contact under "Reki Kyan" (because that was his full name). It felt like a promise.
"I'm so happy I got to meet you today ", Reki emphasized while pocketing his phone, "I really gotta go now, or I will definitely fail my exams next week, but I'll text you, okay? Won't be long, I promise!"
Langa couldn't even react properly, with Reki talking so fast and suddenly already turning away. When he finally managed: "Looking forward to it!", he said it to Reki's retreating back, but he threw up a waving hand indicating he had heard. What he didn't hear was Langa's whispered: "I am very happy I got to meet you, too."
On his way home that night, Langa felt as light as a feather. Like he could fly. Like maybe, with the help of Reki, he would be able to learn how to.
Coming back to the present (and the reality of Reki never having reached out again) after reliving these blissful hours still hurts. Badly. The purring Miya stretched out on Langa's lap, very obviously enjoying himself, might ease the pain a little – at least there is a living being that does enjoy his company –, but it's no more than a band-aid for a laceration.
Why do these memories have to be so painfully detailed? Everything is still hyper-present, especially all the fondness that doesn't have anywhere to go. The Reki Langa thought he had gotten to know probably doesn't exist. Langa wouldn't be the first to have fallen for a scheme. For someone having fun playing with other people's feelings while sponging a free meal on top. Langa still doesn't want to believe that was all it was about. It seemed so real to him. So true. The way Reki had laughed and smiled at him non-stop. How understanding he had been of Langa's problems, and how much he had opened up about his own. How deep their conversation had gone. Could it really have been all made up?
If that was the case, Langa had rather not met Reki at all. Experienced what it feels like to be understood, to feel safe to be yourself with another person. Because since last Friday (or maybe Saturday, when the notion Reki might not reach out as promised had started to creep up on him), Langa feels more hollow and dead inside than he had for the last few years. He had gotten a glimpse of what could be.
Totally absorbed in his yearning and self-pity as he is, Langa nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees and feels his phone vibrating and lighting up next to him on the sofa. Apparently, he does jerk enough to startle an indignant Miya that digs his claws into Langa's thighs in revenge before scurrying off.
A new text. Langa rarely (very rarely) receives text messages. His mom mostly calls, and his work usually sends emails. Which means…
Don' get your hopes up, don't get your hopes up, don't get your hopes up!
With his hand still slightly shaking, Langa picks up his phone and stares at the little message window on the screen.
Reki Kyan: I'M SO SORRY LANGA PLEASE DON'T HATE MEEEEE 😭😭😭
Langa blinks. He blinks again. After having spent his entire last week trying to convince himself that he had read too much into it, that he had fallen for a sweet talker, that he had been dumb and true connection didn't exist, this feels too surreal to trust.
But the text doesn't vanish. It is right there, on Langa's screen, sent by the contact saved as 'Reki Kyan'.
With his heart thumping in his chest, Langa taps to open the chat, only to realize Reki is typing again. A second later, another text pops up.
Reki Kyan: ik you said you hate phone calls but can i call you anyway? wanna explain properly. if you prefer, i can send a memo. hope you are good, man. SORRY!!!!
It's weird. Langa reads his text, rereads it, and finds himself tapping the buttons to call Reki on his own initiative. He did tell Reki he hated phone calls, and he does. Normally. For some reason, the idea of talking to Reki on the phone doesn't bother him all that much. In fact, the prospect of getting to hear his animated, cheerful voice again makes Langa excited. And Reki remembered what Langa told him. He cares enough to worry about something like this. Langa is close to squealing like a schoolgirl with all the emotions he had tried to lock away to no avail rushing back to fill his body and make him feel all fuzzy.
Reki picks up on the first ring. Before Langa can even start thinking about what to say, Reki is already talking.
"Langa? Langa! Man, I can't apologize enough, I feel so bad, like so bad, you must have thought I'm a complete and utter asshole! Gosh, I'm so glad you called me, please listen to what I have to say, will ya?"
It's all a bit too much at once. A minute ago, Langa had been convinced he would never hear of Reki again, and now they are talking on the phone. But this is important.
"Hello, Reki", he manages, hoping his voice doesn't betray his emotional state. "Of course I'll listen to you. I'm" – he takes a steadying breath – "very happy to hear your voice." He doesn't say what's really on his mind, because he knows it would be way over the top: I missed you and the future with you I had already envisioned. I can't wait to see you again. Please become a part of my life. I need you.
"Thank you, Langa." Reki does sound genuinely relieved. "I'm aware this will sound pretty stupid and like I made it up, but I swear it's the truth. So, hear me out."
"Of course", Langa repeats.
And Reki begins. "Okay, so we had just barely parted ways last Friday when I got a call from my mom. She was sobbing, and I didn't understand all the details, just that my oldest sister had been rushed to the hospital…"
The story does sound unlikely, but Langa never doubts its truth. Why should Reki go to the length of making up a fairy story when he had already gotten what he wanted (the money for his washing machine and free food)? For once, being a rather logical person helps Langa believe in what he wants to believe.
Apparently, the call from his mom, and not knowing what was wrong with his sister, had made Reki worry so much that he didn't pay proper attention on his way back home. Before he made it there, he managed to trip and ended up falling down the stairs leading to his dormitory. When Reki woke up again, he found himself in the hospital, his mom seated by his bed. As it turned out, his sister had gotten food poisoning, but was feeling much better after receiving fast treatment. Reki, however, learned that it was already Saturday afternoon, and that his head felt like it would explode any moment because he had suffered a not so mild concussion. In addition to a sprained right hand and various other smaller injuries. His mom, saved as emergency contact in his phone, had flown over to Tokyo after she knew his sister was fine.
"You see, it really took me the whole weekend to be able to even think properly again, my brain just kinda shut off. And when it was finally working, there was so much in my head, especially with all the tests I should have taken this past week. It was all so overwhelming, and to be completely honest, I didn't exactly forget about last Friday but I must admit I didn't consciously think of it until yesterday. And then I felt so bad I just couldn't bring myself to reach out to you…" Reki takes an audible deep breath. "Can you forgive me, please?"
And Langa doesn't know what to say. Reki had been talking without a break for at least ten minutes. Whenever Langa had come up with a fitting commentary, it had already been too late to say. There are so many words in his mind, and he knows it would take him a long time to put all of them in order. But maybe it is okay to no say much.
"There is nothing to forgive, Reki. If anything…" It's not easy to speak this truth, but Langa wants to, because he wants to be honest, too. "If anything, I should ask you for forgiveness, since I genuinely thought you wouldn't get in touch again. I didn't believe in you, and I'm sorry."
"Nah, nonsense. I mean, we had just met that day. It was just a few hours. You couldn't be sure, I totally get that. Gosh, I'm so relieved…" He makes a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a giddy giggle, and Langa can't help but smile. How could he ever have not believed in this human ray of sunshine?
"Also, I knew you would definitely not contact me first. I mean, I think I got a pretty good impression of how you work, if that makes sense. Not tryna brag or anythin', I just wanna make clear that I didn't expect you to."
Langa might tear up if he keeps this going. Because this had been on his mind ever since he realized Reki didn't do it on purpose. He, Langa, could have taken the initiative, too. But that was just not him. "Thank you, Reki."
"Thank you, Langa", Reki corrects him. "Hey, so, I was wondering… Would you like to meet up this weekend? Maybe go out for dinner today, or lunch tomorrow or something?"
The idea of seeing Reki, possibly even today, is too good for Langa to hesitate. "Dinner today sounds lovely. If that fits you, I mean."
"Wouldn't have asked otherwise", Reki laughs warmly. "I actually prefer it, too. Wouldn't wanna wait till tomorrow to see you."
We are the same, Langa's heart sings.
"So, my treat today. You know 'Sia la Luce'?"
Langa lives for routine, but he has never come to terms with something changing in the daily course of events in his life faster than now. With a breathless laugh, he snatches his jacket from the coatrack, only stopping in front of the full-length mirror next to it to pull his hair up into a ponytail. Reki had said he liked it, his hair. This hairstyle. Hopefully, he still likes it today.
Tentatively smiling at himself in the mirror before turning to the door, Langa leaves his apartment, almost skipping down the steps before stepping outside into the chilly autumn air. While hurrying to the pizza place Reki just suggested to meet at, Langa finds himself realizing that maybe he was right after all, maybe his intuition is not as useless as he has come to the conclusion it has to be.
Maybe Reki is it for him.
He can't help thinking about Miya and that hopefully Reki doesn't have a problem with cats, or worse, an allergy. Because that would mean he could never visit him at home, right? And they would never be able to live together. He knows he's getting way ahead of himself again. But he can't seem to stop. Everything feels so real.
Even though Langa has been practically running the few hundred meters from his apartment to 'Sia la Luce', Reki is already standing there. Just as beautiful as in his memory (no, more beautiful, because Langa would never be able to memorize all the perfect little details about him), he lights up like the sun breaking through the clouds after a long, rainy day, and instead of waving, he starts running to meet Langa halfway. It's nothing short of a miracle, Langa thinks, for a person like this to exist and to decide that Langa is special to him, too. His miracle, maybe.
Reki only comes to a halt right in front of him, panting a little, his sparkling eyes glued to Langa's. He fiddles with his hands (it almost looks like he wants to hug Langa!), but only ends up pushing his curly, messy hair back behind his ears. There is a bandage around his right wrist, proving his story to be true (not that Langa had doubted that anymore).
"Gosh, it's SO good to see you again!", he proclaims almost reverently, and Langa couldn't agree more.
Yet, the only thing that passes his lips is: "Do you like cats?"
He instantly regrets it, but he can't exactly take it back, can he? Reki's gaze turns curious, before he shoots Langa one of his flashing grins: "You'd bet, I love practically all animals. Why are you asking?"
Langa feels his face heat up and sheepishly mumbles: "Because I have a cat. Miya."
Instead of being awkward, Reki lights up even more. "Really? That's awwwwwesome! You have to introduce me soon!" Langa decides to blame it on the bad lighting, but he could swear that now Reki is blushing, too. "I mean, uh, only if you want to, of course."
Langa doesn't have to think. "I'd love to", he says sincerely, and gifts Reki a smile.
Like so many times before, they do nothing but stare and smile at each other for a moment, Langa full of wonder that this is actually happening. He feels like Reki might experience something similar. Which proves to be true when he tentatively reaches out with one hand, carefully touching only his fingertips to Langa's forearm, and whispers: "I'd really like to…", before he starts blabbering: "I mean would you mind if we, uh, h-h-hugged? Of course only of you want, it's just that–"
That's as far as he gets, since Langa doesn't hesitate as soon as he knows what Reki is asking for. In one fluid, gentle motion, he wraps his arms around him, virtually burying his fingers in the hoodie's soft fabric. Reki returns the hug with full force almost instantly.
Langa never liked physical touch much, but Reki seems to be his exception. Reki seems to be his exception in many ways. And this – holding him in his arms, like he belongs there – feels real. It helps Langa's mind comprehend that last week had only been a bad dream. This is reality, and it has Reki in it.
When they finally turn towards the restaurant with its tastefully decorated windows brightly lit by a warm hue of light, both of them practically glowing with anticipation, it feels like taking the first steps towards a shared future.