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Reki wanted to love the beach. He used to when he was younger. He used to love the salt and the sand and the sun, even when they clung to his skin and he had to spend half the night in the shower getting every last grain out of his hair.
But that was when he’d been able to wear a regular swimsuit without a care. When he was a kid, mostly oblivious to his dichotomic body, the differences between him and any other child out there minimal enough that he could ignore the weird, confusing feelings he sometimes got when the other students looked at him funny for volunteering when the teacher would ask for “big strong boys” to get boxes from the supply closet or being asked why he never wore a skirt to school like most of the other little girls did.
Back then, the beach always meant hours of fun and sandy bentos and sunburns and a really good night's sleep. It meant freedom and laughter and games and happiness.
Now though, as he sat by himself under one of the umbrellas he and the rest of the newly established S crew had claimed, he found himself thinking that the only good part about their day at the beach was seeing Langa so happy. Seeing him enjoy the crystal blue water that matched his eyes almost perfectly had been enough to pull out a genuine grin from Reki for most of the afternoon as the pair swam and built sandcastles and generally acted foolish, as Cherry had told them. Seeing Langa smile so much was great.
Seeing him shirtless on the other hand…
Reki didn’t want to be jealous. He wanted so badly to be happy for Langa. He wanted to cheer him on and compliment his confidence in advertising his journey in the form of the thin pink scars decorating his chest. He wanted to be proud of Langa for muscling through his hardships and coming out on top in a body he felt comfortable showing off.
But he couldn’t.
Because he was stuck wearing his binder under an irritatingly clingy rashguard. He couldn’t tell if it was salt or sand or both stuck between his skin and the elastic, it itched either way. He’d have a rash when he got home, he always did after swimming in the damn thing. He could already feel the chafing, concentrated under the thick seams that ran up his sides.
He was small-chested enough that he could probably get away with just the rashguard, his mom had tried to convince him of that fact many times, but the way the nylon hugged his unwanted curves when it got wet made him ill.
He’d take the physical discomfort over the visible reminders any day.
“Heads up!” Reki’s focus was torn from Langa’s beautiful scars by Joe’s voice, but his attention wasn’t grabbed quickly enough to keep the flying water bottle from hitting him in the shoulder and falling into the sand beside him. He just stared down at it for a moment, blinking, while Joe jogged closer with an apology on his tongue. “Sorry, kid! Thought you’d catch that.”
“It’s fine.” Reki shook his head at the realization that he was expected to drink the water and toweled the outside of the bottle off before cracking the seal and taking a sip. “Thanks.”
“‘Course.” Joe plopped down on the towel next to his, the one Langa had been occupying for a while before heading back out into the ocean, just outside of the shade of the umbrella now thanks to the tilting sun. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah.” Reki’s eyes had found themselves back on Langa, now floating on the inner tube they’d gotten from… somewhere… Reki wasn’t actually sure where it had come from, it had just kind of appeared. The top of Langa’s head was facing the shore, blue hair splayed over the side of the tube, ends just barely brushing the calm surface of the sparkling water. He couldn’t see Langa’s chest now, which loosened his own. Just a touch.
“You sure? You’ve been kinda quiet.” Joe pushed and for a moment, Reki considered responding with the truth. Langa had his scars on display and nobody had said anything. As far as he knew, Langa hadn’t told anyone else. Hell, he’d only told Reki because he’d caught him sleeping in his binder once when they’d gone to Langa’s apartment after S. Damn his tossing and turning and newly discovered inability to keep his shirt properly on in his sleep. That had been a lecture and a half… a well-deserved one, though. Langa had thought coming out help Reki feel more comfortable with the idea of removing his binder, and he was right, to an extent.
Langa showing off his scars for proof of his claims had been bitter-sweet. The relief that had ravaged his system at the sight was entirely unexplainable. The addition of someone who truly understood him to his miniscule support system had him ecstatic, soaring.
But it wasn't enough to push aside the waves upon waves of jealousy incessantly crashing against the rocky shores of dysphoria. He'd taken the thing off - Langa didn't really give him a choice, probably would have physically taken it off of Reki himself if he'd had to - and spent the entirety of the day at Langa's apartment failing to unravel his tangled string of emotions, stuck in a state of hyper-awareness, all of his attention on his chest and the lack of compression.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Reki flashed Joe a grin before a chorus of yells, splashing, and laughter brought the pair’s eyes back to the ocean. Shadow had appeared out of nowhere and flipped Langa out of the inner tube, apparently with some force considering Langa was resurfacing about five meters away from the man who was now climbing into the stolen inflatable. Langa just shook his head with crossed arms and a pout and headed for shore, his eyes set on Miya and Cherry under the other umbrella a little ways down the beach. Reki’s eyes locked onto Langa’s scars again as he stood up in hip-deep water, the pretty pink lines standing out so nicely against ridiculously pale skin. Had Langa ever been outside before he moved to Japan? Seriously. He was whiter than the sand he was walking on. And the few clouds that were floating by.
“It’s Langa’s scars…” Reki had not planned to say that. He smacked his hand over his mouth with an audible sound of impact and whirled around to face Joe, who just tilted his head, brows drawn close, mouth downturned in thought.
“Do they make you uncomfortable?” He asked, carefully. Why carefully?
Oh.
Oh god.
That sounded bad.
Really bad.
“No!” Reki denied before his hand even pulled itself away from his mouth. “No. Well. Actually,” his eyes ran from Joe’s gentle gaze, back towards the edge of the water, “yeah. But not like that.” He felt his face warming, burning really, and not due to the sun. He was entirely protected, cast in shade from the colourful umbrella, so he had no excuse for his sudden change in colouring. Joe wasn’t saying anything. Reki couldn’t really blame him, this was probably a very confusing conversation for the older man.
Wait.
Did he even know what Langa’s scars were from?
No, he couldn’t.
He probably thought Langa had been in some horrible accident. He probably thought Reki just thought the scars were an eyesore.
He was freaking out for absolutely no reason at all.
Probably.
He just needed to take a breath and-
“I… I want to look like that…” Oh god. What he really needed was to shut up before he ended up buried well beneath the sand. He brought his hand back up and placed the second knuckle of his bent index finger between his teeth rather than covering his mouth, for some reason.
“Oh…” Joe let out a couple of huffs next to him and Reki turned with a raised eyebrow to see him smirking. “I get you. You’re pre-op?”
“What?” He somehow exclaimed around the finger between his teeth and yelped when he unintentionally bit down on the digit. “How do you-?” He couldn’t finish his question, too busy shaking out his hand and trying to sort out just how the hell Joe knew. Reki had never seen another guy with top surgery scars in Japan. Trans issues weren’t spoken about in media, mainstream or otherwise. Reki himself hadn’t even had words to put to his feelings until his mother had tried to help him figure it out. So how? How did Joe know?
“Because,” Joe leaned back on his elbows, leaving Reki to flounder for a few more seconds while he got comfortable, “I got mine done when I was studying in Italy.”
What?
“What?” Reki froze, the hand that had been flapping stilled, and his jaw relaxed entirely at Joe’s words.
“Yep, they’re pretty faded, but the scars are still there.” He gestured to his chest and Reki scrambled onto his knees, hovering over Joe’s torso to get a closer look, to make sure he was telling the truth. Sure enough, hiding in the shadows just below his toned pecs, there were scars. The same ones Langa had. “I was so jealous of Kaoru when he got his done. He got keyhole so you can hardly see his scars at all. Lucky bastard.”
“I… You guys…” Reki couldn’t collect his thoughts as he sat back on his heels, entirely dumbfounded at Joe casually outing himself and Cherry. Even more casually than when Langa had taken off his shirt to show Reki he wasn’t lying a few weeks ago. “Cherry too?”
“Yep.” Joe nodded with a smirk and sat back up. Had he stretched out like that just so Reki could see? Just to show him?
“You all… all three of you…” Reki couldn’t tell what his face was doing. It felt like it was flashing, a montage of emotions and feelings and thoughts flying across his face quicker than the thoughts swirling in his head.
“My point in telling you is,” Joe placed a hand on Reki’s shoulder, catching his attention and dragging him into the eye of the storm, “it’s completely normal to feel jealous. Or envious. However you want to define it. You want that,” Reki followed Joe’s pointed finger over his shoulder to Langa, who was drying his hair out with a towel while entirely ignoring whatever Miya was trying to tell him about the game he was playing. He caught Reki’s eye, sent him a wave and a smile, his raised arm pulling the pretty scar up with it. Reki’s stomach clenched, his entire being yearning for the flat chest, the decoration. Hell, he was even looking forward to the zombifying surgery itself and the really boring-sounding healing process. “And you’ll have it. Some day.”
“My doctor is a bigot.” Reki huffed after returning Langa’s wave with a grin of his own. His hands slipped under his rash guard, unrolling and readjusting the elastic garment beneath quickly. He wanted nothing more than to never wear the thing again. “My mom and I are trying to find a new one who will actually listen to me instead of threatening to send me to a mental hospital any time either of us brings up referrals.”
“Ah geez…” Joe heaved a sigh and his smirk melted away with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, kid. Doctors are… well… let’s just say there’s a reason I got mine done abroad.”
“Langa had his done before he moved here.” Reki mused and propped his chin in his hand with an elbow resting on his knee. “Where did Cherry get his done?”
“Here. Well, on the mainland. He went to the Gender Center in Okayama over the summer break of our junior year.”
“Yeah, can’t afford that.” Reki chuckled, with only a little bit of resentment behind it. “If money wasn’t an issue I’d be off to the clinic Langa went to in Canada by now.”
“You guys talked about that?” Joe’s smirk came back and so did Reki’s blush, though with less intensity this time. Just a slight warming of his cheeks rather than his entire face bursting into flames. A colour he could blame on the sun, if he chose to.
“Well, he told me about it. I asked. And we looked into the prices just for fun. It’s pretty reasonable, cheaper than here, actually. Only problem is getting there, and you know, being there. And getting home. That’s what makes it expensive. And then there’s all the consultations and stuff beforehand that would be kind of difficult with the time difference… I don’t know. It’s probably not possible.”
“Well, you never know.” Joe shrugged. “Maybe you’ll win the lottery.”
“I’ve never bought tickets.” Reki scoffed. With his luck, he’d be fated to gamble all of his money away.
“Well, maybe I’ll win the lottery and if you’re nice to me I’ll give you some of my pot. Oh, and kid? Just because you don't look like us right now, it doesn't mean you're any less, okay?”
Reki grinned at that, and Joe reached out to mess up his already hopelessly chaotic hair.
“Thanks, Joe.” Reki was still chuckling as he tried - futilely - to smooth out his damp strands.
“Oh come on, you don’t like my styling technique?”
“No, I mean,” Reki gave up on wrestling with his hair and dropped his hands to his lap, “thanks. For… talking.”
“Oh, any time, kid.” Joe’s smile stretched all the way across his face that time. “If you ever need anything, I’m here. Cherry too.”
At that particular mention of Cherry, Reki’s heart stuttered. His binder tightened, or so it felt, and his spine snapped to perfect posture. “Cherry. You totally outed Cherry. Is he going to be okay with you telling me that stuff?”
“Oh, he'll be fine.” Joe waved his hand dismissively but Reki just felt his heart pick up the pace.
“No, Joe, seriously, you shouldn't have told me that. Not without his permission. I mean-”
“Kid, kid, calm down, it's okay.” All the playfulness left Joe’s expression. “Seriously, it's fine. He'll understand. He doesn't mind if people know, especially not family. I promise he won't be mad.”
“Who won't be mad about what?” Reki’s soul vacated his body at the sound of Cherry’s distinctly irritated voice behind him and he spun around to see him and Langa a few steps away. Before he could conjure up a (probably very half-assed) excuse, Joe was getting to his feet and delivering the explanation.
“You won't be mad that I told Reki you got top surgery on the mainland when you were his age.” Joe said it so easily and Reki scrambled to his feet, ready to flee, or at least take a step back and observe, once the arguing started.
“How did that topic come up?” Again, Reki’s jaw came loose when Cherry’s apathetic expression didn't change. His arms did, however, fold across his chest, but loosely, not defensive or angry or any of the things he should have been.
“Oh, uh,” Joe stammered and looked to Reki, suddenly sheepish, for some reason.
Oh.
Because if he explained he would be outing Reki.
Well.
If Cherry judged him, it would be awfully hypocritical.
“Because I haven't had top surgery yet.” Reki shrugged with a grin. His hands were shaking, but his heart slowed at the sight of Langa's soft smile and Cherry’s brief flash of surprise. “I had… questions.”
“I see.” Cherry nodded and the smallest of smirks found a home on his lips and a familiar gleam shone across his eyes. “Well, the gorilla is correct. I have no issues with him disclosing my history. Oh, and if you would like proper answers to your questions, I’m available to talk anytime.”
“Seriously?” Joe stepped forward and Reki and Langa both hopped aside. “You think I can't answer questions about my own surgery?”
“You were unconscious, how could you possibly answer his questions, you dimwit?”
“He wasn’t asking about the actual procedure, he was asking about other things! And you were unconscious too, pinky!”
“Hey.” Langa knocked his shoulder into Reki’s to get his attention, he reluctantly peeled his gaze away from the bickering men in front of him and was met with a signature soft smile when he looked up at Langa. “You good?”
Reki glanced back at the argument, just in time to see Joe toss Cherry over his shoulder and run for the shoreline, the pink-haired man kicking and sputtering while Joe just laughed. Reki looked back to Langa, down at his chest, at his scars, and warmth spread over his heart. His chest would look like that. One day.
“Yeah.” Reki looked back up into Langa’s eyes as he nodded, then back out at the water, in time to see Joe toss Cherry and Cherry grab a fist full of Joe’s hair, dragging him into the surf along with him. Reki laughed out loud at the sight of Joe recovering first and throwing Cherry again, this time sending him directly into Shadow’s lap and capsizing both of them, then attempting to run away but quickly getting caught and tackled under by both of the others. “Think we’ll still get along like they do when we’re older?”
“I hope so.” Langa laughed too, louder than Reki had ever heard him, and he glanced back to see the grin on his face.
“What the hell are they fighting about?” Miya appeared beside them with an amused expression and his arms crossed over his chest.
“Hey, Langa?” Reki nudged his head in Miya’s direction as the younger boy stood oblivious, watching the wrestling match in the waist-deep waters. Langa nodded, a gleam in his eye that Reki was sure matched his own.
“What the hell, slimes?!” Miya yelled as the two older boys picked him up like a battering ram and sprinted for the water. Consequences be damned, they were having fun.
Maybe the beach wasn’t so bad.