Chapter Text
Reki waited at the starting line at Crazy Rock as Langa skated up. The blue-haired man had changed a little in the ten years they’d known each other. He was still tall and slim but no longer gangly. His face was a bit more chiseled. His hair was now just past shoulder length. He pulled most of it back in a messy bun when he skated, but a few strands always escaped and fluttered around his face. He’d kept his S uniform simple, still wearing plain pants and a white button-down shirt. The one embellishment was his shoes: in a nod to his S name, he’d replaced his old purple high-tops with a new pair covered with pale silver glitter that sparkled like snow as he skated. Beyond that, a few new scars marked his skin, and a few new piercings glinted in his ears, but his flashing ocean-blue eyes were the same as always. Reki thought he was every bit as beautiful as the day they’d met.
As for Reki, he’d never gotten as tall as Langa, but he’d added some muscle through concerted effort—nothing like Joe back when he was skating at S, just a little more solid than he was as a teen. He wore chunky plastic-rimmed glasses at work now, but not when skating, and especially not at S. The main change to his S outfit was that he’d swapped out his custom hoodies for custom t-shirts under blazers, usually with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He hoped it looked a little more grownup but still cool. His red hair was still wild. His exposed skin was still dotted with bandaids, with the addition of a couple of tattoos. In his own opinion, Reki looked fine. Not really better or worse than before, mostly just older.
“Hey, sunshine!” Langa yelled as he approached. His tone was sarcastic and his pretty face twisted into a smirk. “Ready for me to rain on your parade?”
Reki scoffed back at him, “Watch out, snowflake, I’m on fire tonight, so if you’re not careful you’ll melt.”
Along the sidelines, the denizens of S tittered with excitement as they waited for Snow and Reki to kick off their weekly beef. A few members of their respective fan clubs (Reki would never get used to having a self-appointed fan club) were getting in each other’s faces to trash talk, bet on the race, or exchange challenges of their own. But Reki only had eyes for Langa. He fixed the blue-haired man with an insolent grin and boasted, “You’re going down tonight, you skinny yeti.”
As the countdown lights blinked, Langa sniffed disdainfully and replied, “I’ll wipe the floor with you, you overgrown hibiscus.”
And then they were off.
They started out neck and neck. As they approached the first curve, Reki couldn’t resist the urge to hip check Langa, sending the other man unsteadily rolling wide while the redhead hugged the inside of the turn.
“Watch it, you one-man house fire!” Langa snapped.
Reki flashed a cheeky peace sign as he emerged from the turn leading by a few board lengths. “If you can’t take the heat, go back to Canada, Dudley Do-Right!” he snickered.
Langa frowned and crouched down lower on his board, gaining speed. “Whatever, you walking stoplight. You can try to knock me around as much as you like, I’ll beat you with pure technique.”
“Lighten up, man,” Reki called back, weaving back and forth across the track to block Langa from passing. “For such an ice cube, sometimes you have no chill.”
“We can’t all be the court jester of S,” Langa retorted. “I’m just glad I lead most of our races so I don’t have to look at your ridiculous clown hair the whole time.”
As he spoke, Langa sped off the main track, using a slanted rock slab on the side as an impromptu ramp to launch himself right over Reki and take the lead. It was all the redhead could do to avoid colliding with him, swerving to the side and losing speed as Langa started to pull away.
“Call me ridiculous all you want,” Reki laughed bitterly, turning back towards the center of the track and casting around for the best way to regain an edge. “I’m not the one who used to duct tape his feet to his board.”
“I did that one time,” Langa huffed, “and you know I won that race.”
“Sure, sure. And then you replaced the duct tape with toe clips. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who used the skateboard equivalent of training wheels.”
“Which you built and installed for me, toolbox!” Langa sputtered.
“You’re welcome, snow angel!” Reki cooed sarcastically.
Reki had recovered from his wobble after Langa cut him off and had managed to basically keep pace since. They entered the abandoned factory with Langa holding a narrow lead.
“Pfft, who thanked you for your goofy boards, gearhead,” the blue-haired man grumbled as he sped through the entrance.
“Literally goofy for you, southpaw,” Reki shot back. “If you don’t like my boards, why did you ride one in the Olympics?”
Langa scowled. “If your boards are so great, why can’t you beat me when you ride one?”
“I beat you sometimes, you blue sasquatch!” Reki squawked.
“Occasionally,” Langa grumbled. “Using weird tricks.”
“It’s not a weird trick to know the course and skate strategically. Just because your first-choice plan is to ride straight off cliffs like a maniac….”
As he shouted this, Reki deftly skated under some partially collapsed steel beams onto a section of track few skaters ever used. The route was challenging, but Reki knew every pitfall and knew he now had the shorter path to the finish. He allowed himself an exuberant grin as he raced through the factory, the noise of the crowd echoing all around him.
Langa glanced back, realized he’d missed the shortcut, and hissed with annoyance. With a look of determination, he apparently decided to make his own shortcut by launching himself onto another section of the course several meters below.
“Oh, I’m a maniac?” he hollered as he twisted through the air, colored lights glinting off his sleek blue hair and his glittery sneakers. The jump was definitely something only a maniac would attempt, but Reki privately had to admit that it was magnificent. “You’re the one who got hit by a car and abducted to a love hotel, then just skated home afterwards.”
The two men’s routes converged again as they rocketed towards the finish, leaving them face to face, bickering at top volume while skating at top speed.
“Well, you’re the one who raced Adam after he put Cherry in the hospital,” Reki yelled.
“You literally did that too, sunny.”
“Oh yeah.” Reki looked thoughtful for a moment before he went back to shouting. “But I had the sense to be really scared about it! You’re the—oh.” Reki had been readying a choice retort when he realized they’d crossed the finish line.
The finish was too close to call by eye. A video replay might clear it up, but before they could even look at the monitors, Reki and Langa were off their boards, confronting each other at close range and shouting. Reki leaned towards his longtime rival, spouting trash talk because that was what they always did these days. He was hardly even aware of the specific words he was saying, his singular focus on Langa’s face—the pale pink flush on his cheeks from skating and arguing, the way his eyebrows furrowed above his sparkling blue eyes.
“Are you even listening to me, fireball?” Langa grabbed Reki’s collar and hauled him in until their noses almost touched.
So close.
“I’ll listen to you when you have something worthwhile to say, iceburg,” Reki retorted automatically.
Langa’s breath was hot against his face, the blue-haired man still panting with exertion after their race. He wondered if Langa could feel his heart pounding just below where he was gripping Reki’s shirt. Around them, the spectators chattered excitedly.
“Why do Reki and Snow argue so much?” one person asked.
“I hear they used to date but broke up,” someone replied.
I wish, Reki thought, outwardly still going through the motions of bickering with Langa.
“I hear they’re secretly married and just fight for show,” another skater chimed in.
God, I wish. Reki put a hand over Langa’s to dislodge his hold on his collar, but Langa held on tight, leaving Reki sweating and almost trembling, basically holding Langa’s hand, unsure how to back down.
“I hear they’re in love but afraid to admit it, and after pining for years they’re so frustrated that all they can do is fight,” another added.
Half-right, Reki thought. I’m in love, sure, but he’s so far out of my league there was never any point in telling him. And these days we fight so much I wonder how he even stands me.
“They remind me of Cherry Blossom and Joe. Remember those guys?” someone in the crowd asked.
“Oh yeah, I haven’t thought about them in ages! They fought like cats and dogs for years, then finally skated a beef so intense they both got injured and had to retire from racing at S.”
“I wonder if they ever worked things out.”
Gosh, I hope so.
Reki had been so caught up in staring into Langa’s piercing eyes and listening to the raucous buzz of gossip around them that he’d apparently forgotten to argue. He was reminded of this when Langa suddenly, roughly released his hold on his collar.
“No retort?” the blue-haired man demanded, flushed and frowning and still intolerably gorgeous.
Reki’s reply was more half-hearted than usual.
“I can only argue with you so much before I run out of things to say, snowflake,” he muttered.
“I didn’t know anything could make you stop talking, chatterbox. You sick or something?” Langa was still frowning, but his face had softened a little. He looked surprised, maybe even concerned.
“Nah, just worn out by your constant banter. You used to be so nice and quiet.”
“Oh, so you can dish it out but you can’t take it. But fine, since skating against me was clearly too much for you, why don’t you go home and sleep it off,” Langa scoffed. He added, nonchalantly, “I’ll probably see you at your shop this week. If my board needs work.”
“Somehow it always does,” Reki replied with an arched eyebrow. “You can’t just come by after-hours two or three times a week demanding tune-ups, you know. I have work to do for paying customers.”
“Oh, come on, you love it,” Langa called back, already beginning to stride away.
“You wish!” Reki retorted as he watched Langa disappear into the crowd.
I do, he thought.