Chapter Text
There’s nothing special about this boy.
He’s an ordinary guy, like any other Langa’s age. Short black hair, rather slim figure, average height. A normal guy.
Well, okay, there is one thing that catches Langa’s eye. He’s wearing an oversized, baggy sweatshirt in every possible color on earth, as if someone spilled paint on it. Which is probably a good guess. Its pattern reminds him of small swirls, the kind of DIY thing popular not so long ago. He looks like a parrot, Langa thinks, but that’s beside the point.
The point is that he’s an average boy, and Langa would easily miss him in a crowd.
But he does notice him, of course he does, because now Reki is talking to him, and if something interests Reki, you know for sure Langa’s interested too.
A faint blush is spread across his best friend’s cheeks, and it rubs Langa the wrong way. He doesn’t know why, why this fact stabs him a little in the chest, like a sharp needle. Nothing explains his sudden pettiness either (but that’s just his thoughts, so it doesn’t really affect anyone, right?). And it’s not like this is the first time someone approaches Reki at ‘S.’ After Adam’s tournament, Langa’s winning skateboard attracted attention, and with it, Reki’s skills.
Which is fine, great even. Langa’s proud of Reki because he deserves it, he deserves every praise in the world. Finally, people notice him, his talent, and his creativity. He already got a few orders for new skateboard projects, so why is Langa so... annoyed? It’s just another person, this boy. Another customer, right?
For a moment, he wonders if it would be weird to go there and... what would exactly Langa say? Would he interrupt something? He usually rather stays on the sidelines, not really knowing how to talk to strangers. Reki is much better at chatting and keeping the conversation going. And Langa’s... Langa’s not like that. But now something is pulling him to meet this boy, though he doesn’t know why.
Before Langa can decide, he hears a loud huff. “Jeez. Chill, Snow Boy.”
He glances down just in time to see Miya rolling his eyes. “W-what?” he stutters.
“If looks could kill, he’d be dead now.”
Langa gapes for a moment before he frowns. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re hopeless,” Miya rolls his eyes again. “But I guess this is nothing new.”
If Langa weren’t so confused, he would reply with something equally snide. But he can’t because Langa’s not good with words and doesn’t really understand the hidden meaning of Miya’s taunts.
Whatever, he’ll just ignore it. The boy is always like that. Besides Langa’s just... observing. In case this guy turns out to be some jerk or something. You never know, right?
Langa shifts his gaze from Miya, and then there’s Reki walking toward them with a big, dazzling smile. The black-haired boy disappeared somewhere in the crowd, and Langa missed his opportunity to do... something. Anything.
A slight blush is still visible on Reki’s cheeks, striking against his dark skin. Langa holds his breath for a moment but then remembers why Reki is like this and has to suppress the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. It’s frustrating. He doesn’t know what possessed him.
The thing is, he likes to see flushed Reki. It means he’s embarrassed, which usually happens when he’s complimented—something Langa does as often as possible. Reki has horrible self-esteem, and Langa really tries to help him work with it (and also, though it’s a bit selfish, likes to know that he made Reki that way).
“Guess what?” Reki exclaims, hopping the last few steps toward them.
“What?” Miya asks in the most monotone tone possible. It doesn’t stop Reki’s enthusiasm, though. “Some guy wants me to design him a sweatshirt! Can you believe it? He said it’s awesome!”
“No, I can’t believe it.” This time Langa tries to suppress the urge to kick the younger boy in the shin. Reki’s smile turns into a pout, so Langa quickly says: “That’s amazing! You’re so talented, Reki!” before Miya’s words can do any damage.
“Thanks, Langa,” Reki says, though he sounds a little hurt. If Langa could, he would’ve washed away all insecurities from Reki. The problem is that no matter how hard he tries, they are so deeply ingrained in him that there’s little he can do. He works on it, works on expressing himself better, for Reki’s sake, but sometimes he thinks that maybe... maybe he just can’t. “Anyway, what’s up? I heard that someone challenged you, right?”
Langa nods slowly. He doesn’t like the sudden change of subject nor Reki’s fake smile.
“Awesome! Who?”
“I don’t know her.” It was some random girl Langa had never seen before. But beef is beef, and he would never say no to one.
Reki throws an arm around his shoulders and squeezes. “That’s so you! Accept the challenge from the no-name!” Langa grimaces as Reki tightens his embrace. “An easy win, right?”
“I don’t know,” he chokes out. The boy finally lets him go, and Langa takes a big breath.
“Well, no one’s a real challenge for you. You can literally win with your eyes closed, dude.”
“You can too, Reki.” And there it is, a faint blush. Reki looks away and timidly scratches his head. “Stop. You know it’s not true.”
“It is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It–” Reki presses his hand to Langa’s lips, silencing his next words.
“Are you done being, ugh.” Miya makes a few weird movements with his arms. “Like this?”
“What do you mean?” Reki asks with a raised eyebrow as his hand slides down.
“You’re disgusting, that’s all.”
“Whatever.” Reki only shrugs at Miya’s taunt. “Anyway, can we head back?” he asks Langa. “I’m deadbeat.”
Langa quickly nods. He also has had enough of this night.
“So come on! Bye, Miya!” He grabs Langa’s hand, already dragging him toward the scooter. Langa lets him, of course. Reki’s skin is warm and a little sweaty, but it’s okay. He feels as if someone wrapped him in a thick blanket, and it stays with him all the way to Reki’s house, even when the contact ends.
Langa shifts, trying to find a more comfortable position on the futon. The bedding rustles in the silence of the night, even though he tries to be careful. He hears Reki’s quiet breathing; now and then, a car passes outside the window, and with it, the sound of an engine, but other than that, nothing.
He likes the nights after the ‘S.’ Usually, Kyan’s home is noisy, with screams, loud laughter, and children’s squeals filling every nook and cranny of the house. There is no privacy there either, even in Reki’s room. You feel like someone could barge in at any moment as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Langa isn’t used to something like this. Even when he was still living in Canada, his parents spent a good part of the day at work, so he often stayed alone. As an only child, he didn’t tend to have company outside of them. Also, it’s not like he had too many friends either.
In truth, Reki is his first.
Now that he lives in Japan with just his mom, it’s even worse. She often has night shifts, so they see each other mainly in the mornings. And sometimes, it fills him with gloom, especially when a third person is missing.
So, all in all, he likes being at Reki’s place. Maybe a big family is noisy, but it fills the house with life.
“Langa?” He hears whispering and rustling before Reki’s head pokes out over the edge of his bed. “Are you asleep?”
Langa squints to see his best friend’s silhouette in the darkness. His red hair is striking in the moonlight, his tanned skin illuminated by it. “No,” he whispers back. “What is it?”
“Can I ask you something?” Reki’s tone is serious, maybe even a little nervous. It draws all Langa’s attention, all his senses. “Of course. Always,” he replies.
A quiet chuckle sounds, followed by a hand on Langa’s nose. Reki pokes him, much to his dismay. “Reki!” he hisses.
“What? You’re funny.”
“I’m not,” Langa mutters.
Another giggle before Reki’s hand pulls back. “You are!”
“You wanted to ask me something.” Langa changes the subject, as Reki’s taunts annoy him a tiny bit. Besides, he’s genuinely interested in what Reki wants to share at such a late hour.
“Okay, yeah. Okay.” Reki quickly lets the air out. “Okay. Wait.” And then he scrambles off the bed, not bothering to be quiet. He hits the floor loudly, graceless, and completely unfazed. Langa snorts with laughter at the sight of Reki now crawling on all four limbs like a cat. Finally, he stops next to Langa’s shoulder. “Okay, okay, ugh,” Reki groans. “This is stupid. Really stupid. Promise you won’t laugh.”
“I won’t,” Langa replies quickly as his curiosity peaks.
“Okay.” Reki groans again and runs his hands over his face. They fall into his lap, so close and so far away from Langa’s. Which shouldn’t matter, he really doesn’t know why he thought of it. “Langa.”
“Yes?” He says it almost breathlessly, still not knowing why. This has been happening to him a lot lately. The rapid pulse, the short breaths, the fluttering in his stomach. Sometimes it drives him crazy, all these weird thoughts.
“Be honest, okay?” Langa nods and props his head on his hand to see Reki better.
“Do you think my designs are, I don’t know, cool? Do you like them? You don’t have to lie, okay? Just, I don’t know, I–”
“Reki.” Langa grabs his hand to calm him somehow down. Reki tends to spiral, Langa learned a long time ago. Not in a good way. Their fight showed this perfectly. “Of course, they’re cool. So, so cool. I told you that, remember? They are beautiful. I meant it.”
A light blush appears on Reki’s cheeks, visible even in the moonlight. He quickly turns his head away, but Langa notices it in time. “Langa,” he groans but grasps his hand tighter and squeezes.
“What? It’s true. I love them. Especially the one on my board. It’s awesome.”
Reki’s head falls on Langa’s chest, taking his breath away. It’s not a hard impact, not at all. So... why?
“I hate you,” Reki murmurs. His hair is scattered over Langa’s shirt, a bright red against the white. His hands itch to touch them so he clenches them into fists. This is not a good idea.
And then Reki presses his forehead into the fabric, lets out a warm breath and the overwhelming urge wins out, so Langa weaves his fingers into the red strands. Reki hums quietly under the touch, not pulling away. Langa’s heart swells at this sight, his pulse beating fast and steady. He starts gently massaging his scalp, the soft curls tickling him lightly like butterfly wings.
Reki snuggles in even more, Langa’s touch not pushing him away at all. The opposite, actually, considering how he leans toward Langa’s hand as if he wants more.
Reki’ll be the death of him someday.
“You’ll let it go to my head.”
Langa giggles. “That’s the point.”
One amber eye peeks at him through a tangle of hair. “Yeah?” Langa’s laughter quiets, and a smile breaks out on his lips. “Yeah.”
They stay like this for a while; Langa combing his fingers through red hair and Reki watching him. It’s quiet and peaceful outside, but everything inside Langa is screaming. Heat spreads across his face under Reki’s curious gaze, which should be uncomfortable but isn’t.
Not even a little.
“We should go to sleep,” Reki says.
“We should.” Still, none of them move. At some point, Reki spread out more on the floor, so now he’s basically lying on top of Langa. His heart is beating slowly under Langa’s arm, and his head is resting on his chest, facing him. Reki’s eyes are closed, so Langa isn’t sure if he’s still awake, but he doesn’t have it in him to check.
He breathes slowly, taking in the smell of cut wood and strawberries, and tries to slow his rapid heartbeat.
And though neither of them knows when, they fall asleep.
Langa’s awakened by someone quietly groaning and squirming next to, no, on top of him. He opens his eyes and blinks away the remnants of a nice dream that he sadly can’t remember. For a moment, he wonders where he is but quickly notices Reki, who is now climbing laboriously onto his bed.
Their eyes meet, but neither of them says anything. Reki only smiles softly, so Langa smiles, too. But the moment passes quickly as the boy lies down and turns his back to him, his face disappearing from sight.
And then Langa remembers how Reki lay on top of him, how they fell asleep together, how his hair felt and smelled.
And he thinks in his mind that he’s totally screwed.