Archive of Our Own ^beta

“So, what’s it like?”

“What’s ‘what’ like?”

Reki groans in frustration, burying his face in his hands. Langa makes a confused noise, and without even looking, Reki knows that he’s looking at him with his big, blue eyes that are wide and curious. “Dude, I just asked you about this last week. How do you not know what I’m talking about?”

Reki knows that Langa is shifting his feet from where they are propped up on his skateboard, and the quiet creaks ring through the empty skatepark. They’re sitting close, their thighs and sides pressed together in an attempt to stay warm as the cold wind whistles through the park. Actually, Reki thinks that Langa is sitting close to him to keep him warm. Langa never seems to get cold.

Langa shrugs, and Reki can feel it from where they are pressed together. “You ask a lot of questions.”

Reki grumbles under his breath, wrapping his arms tighter around his chest. It’s gotten colder over the past couple of weeks, with winter leaching away the warm summer air and replacing it with a biting wind. He shivers, and Langa presses gingerly into his side, sharing his warmth. Langa hums, even softer than before. “What was the question you wanted to ask me, Reki?”

Reki sighs, looking over at Langa. They’re sitting very close, but Reki doesn’t mind at all. Langa’s nose is pink from the chill in the air, and it’s only a few inches away from his own. It’s not odd for them to sit this close—just close enough that Reki can feel Langa’s warm breath on his face. It does send a jolt through his stomach, but he resolutely ignores that.

“I asked what Canada was like. You hardly ever talk about it.”

Reki watches as Langa looks down at his hands and fidgets with them. “It’s cold.”

Reki snorts. “It’s cold? That’s all you have to say about it?!”

Langa smiles, looking back at Reki. “That’s pretty much it.” He seems to be thinking about it for a second. “It’s different here than it is there.”

“How’s it different?” Reki asks.

“Well,” Langa starts, “the customs are different, the clothing is different, and the people are different. It’s just…different.”

Reki shakes his head fondly. “How verbose of you,” he teases, shoving his shoulder into Langa’s.

Langa grins, one side of his mouth tugging up more than the other, causing his eyes to squint slightly. His cheeks are pink, but Reki can’t tell if that’s from the air or something else. For his own sanity, he decides that it’s from the air.

“What else?” Reki prods.

A gust of wind blows through the skatepark, cutting through Reki’s thin hoodie, and he immediately shivers, leaning harder into Langa. Langa wraps an arm around Reki’s shoulders, and Reki sighs, revealing the greater warmth.

“It’s colder there too,” Langa says.

Reki rolls his eyes. “You said that earlier, and it’s already freezing here. I can’t imagine it being any colder,” Reki mumbles.

Langa laughs loudly, and Reki grins. Langa’s laugh always makes his chest feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“You wouldn't be able to survive a day in Canada,” Langa states, and Reki squawks in offense.

“Yes, I would." Reki pouts.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Langa corrects.

Reki scoffs, stretching a leg out to kick at the skateboard that Langa is resting his feet on. One side of it is pushed down, and it hits the ground with a loud crack. Langa rights it with his feet before it can roll away.

“What do you miss most about it?” Reki asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Langa hums, tilting his head as he thinks. Reki instantly thinks that he looks like a puppy, with his big eyes and the stray pieces of hair that fall in his eyes.

“I miss the snow,” Langa decides. He sounds slightly wistful, and something twists in Reki’s chest. Langa’s lips are tugged down into a frown. Reki quickly tries to rectify it.

“I’ve never seen snow in real life before,” Reki admits, turning to face Langa. “What’s it like?”

“Cold,” Langa says, smirking at the exasperated look on Reki’s face.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Langa bumps his side into Reki's, and Reki returns the action. It’s slightly awkward with Langa’s arm still wrapped around his shoulders, but Reki doesn’t mind at all. He likes being close to Langa and enjoys leaning up against him and talking to him.

Reki can tell that it’s getting late, and he knows that the streetlamps will start to turn on soon, but he can’t stop himself from asking a few more questions. Anything to keep hanging out with Langa for longer.

“Do you miss it?” Reki asks.

Langa’s face sobers, his expression turning more somber. “Yeah, I do. It was home for a long time. It’s kind of weird not being there anymore."

Shit. Way to go, Reki, a voice whispers in his head, and he feels his veins filling with lead. You went and made him all upset. You’re a horrible friend. Oh, gods, he is horrible, isn’t he? He had just been trying to have a fun conversation with Langa, and now he’s gone and made him all upset. He should have never opened his mouth to talk; he should have never brought it up. Langa probably won’t want to be friends with him anymore since he makes him so upset. Gods, he should just apologize and leave now–

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t met you, Reki.”

Reki’s broken out of his spiral to hear Langa’s voice, and it takes a second for the words to be comprehended in his brain. Once he processes the words and the small smile on Langa’s face, he feels a little bit of the anxiety coiling in his gut dissipate, and he grins.

“I’m the one who’s lucky to meet you, dude,” Reki says. Langa’s smile widens, and Reki feels more of that fuzzy warmth build in his chest.

“I miss Canada, but I’m glad I’m here,” Langa states. “Does that make any sense?”

“Kinda,” Reki says, and Langa smiles gratefully at him.

Reki wants to freeze at this moment, with Langa pressed up close to him in the skatepark and his lanky arm resting over his shoulders. They’re so close that they’re basically sharing the same breath. Reki knows that most friends don’t sit this close, but with Langa, it feels right.

Reki is very glad that Langa moved to Japan from Canada, and he feels horrible about that. Langa had to leave his home, the only one that he’d ever known, and move somewhere he had never been before. It must have been very difficult to just leave behind everything that you’ve ever known and know that you are never going to go back, at least not in the same way as before.

Langa digs his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. “It’s getting late. Do you want to start heading back? If we take the bridge, we should be able to get home quicker because it’ll be less busy.”

Reki shakes his head to clear it. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. Are you sleeping over again tonight?” Langa seems to spend more nights at Reki’s house than his own, not that Reki’s complaining.

Langa nods, beginning to stand up and collect their things. “Is that alright with you?”

“You don’t even have to ask anymore, dude,” Reki says, grinning when Langa gives him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Reki,” Langa says. “You are an amazing friend.”

Reki feels his face warm, and he scratches at it, desperately wanting the blush to fade as he plasters on a cheesy smile. “Aw, man, you’re an amazing friend too."

As they begin to pack up their stuff and head back to Reki’s house, Reki starts to think. Langa deserves the world for putting up with Reki and for being such a good friend. He’s always paying attention to his ramblings and never makes fun of him for his odd habits. He even tried out skateboarding because Reki was so passionate about it.

Maybe Reki should try to make his best friend feel more at home here? Langa’s never complained about being homesick before, but Reki knows that if he ever had to leave his home, he would miss it a lot. Langa doesn’t really talk about Canada very often, and when he does, it’s not very detailed.

But what could Reki do to make Langa feel less homesick?

Suddenly, Reki is struck with an idea so amazing that he almost falls off his board. He desperately throws his arms out, tilting backward as he tries to regain his balance. Reki feels a strong hand grab one of his flailing arms and pull him forward and back onto his center of balance. Reki flashes Langa a grateful smile, and Langa frowns.

“Are you okay?” Langa asks, letting go of Reki’s arm once he’s sure that he’s not going to fall again.

Reki nods, his arm tingling from the sudden contact. “Just got distracted.”

Langa rolls his eyes playfully, and Reki sticks out his tongue. “Are you too distracted to race me back?” Langa challenges.

“Never!” Reki shouts, pushing off of the ground hard, propelling himself forward and ahead of Langa.

“Cheater!” Langa yells, and Reki cackles, quickly turning down a different street to find their shortcut. Langa turns sharply behind Reki, using a wall to keep himself from falling as he catches up.

Skating with Langa feels like home. It just feels right. Reki adores every second of it. So, he’s going to do everything that he can to make Langa feel at home too. It’s only fair.

If he can’t bring Langa to Canada, he’s going to bring Canada to Langa.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(1: Paper Snowflakes)

That night, Reki finds himself perched on the top of his bed, his laptop open in front of him with the brightness as far down as it will go.

Langa is asleep, currently curled up on Reki’s bed and buried underneath every spare blanket that Reki could steal from his sisters. He shifts every once in a while, letting out a deep sigh as he readjusts, and Reki has to be extra quiet and not squirm around too much so he doesn’t wake up Langa.

At night, when it’s only the two of them, Reki feels more at peace than he ever has, stuck in the limbo between being asleep and awake, kind of drunk on the feeling of Langa’s legs pressed against his own under the covers and the smell of Langa’s cedar shampoo.

He loves skating with Langa, adores the feeling of his nerves dancing with adrenaline, and the high of seeing his best friend’s wide smile, but it’s here, cuddled together on Reki’s bed in the late hours of the night, that he feels as though he is in a little bubble of comfort. One that only belongs to the two of them.

The only source of light in the room is the blue light from his computer. His eyes burn slightly, and he blinks harshly to refocus on the article he’s reading. He’s been researching Canadian and winter traditions from the moment that Langa fell asleep. Next to him, he has his sketchbook open to a fresh page, trying to remember how many of these customs Langa has talked about before.

He scrolls down on the webpage, looking at pictures of families curled up in front of roaring fires or bundled up with layers of brightly colored scarves and coats. They all look so happy and at home that it makes Reki’s chest ache.

Does Langa miss all of this? Is that where he really feels at home?

He wonders if Langa used to dress up like that, buried under colorful hats and hands covered in wool mittens, and if he used to sit with his family next to a warm fireplace. He wishes he could have seen that—that he could have seen Langa all wrapped up for the cold, his nose tinted pink, and a wide smile on his face.

Reki glances back at his pitiful list, which really only consists of the few random things Langa has mentioned about his old home: snow, snowboarding, and it being cold. He sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair and pulling on the ends.

How is he supposed to bring Canada to Langa when he doesn’t even know where to start?

Langa shifts next to him, pressing even closer to him. Reki feels an arm wrap around his waist and squeeze tight, and Reki lets himself be dragged more into the warmth that is Langa. He grins softly, watching as Langa’s face screws up for a second before relaxing and tucking his face into Reki’s shoulder.

Reki’s chest feels like it's exploding, and his hands shake with all of his nervous energy. He feels so warm and at home right now, with Langa curled up close to his side and tucked into his small bed together.

Langa hums softly, squishing his face in even closer, and something in Reki’s core melts. A few strands of his blue hair slip into his face, fluttering with his breaths, and Reki is overwhelmed with the urge to brush it away and tuck it behind his ear.

He raises his free hand from where it had been poised on his keyboard and hovers it over Langa’s head, freezing with his fingers mere inches above Langa’s hair.

Would Langa want him touching his hair? Would Langa find him weird or strange and then leave him forever?

His heart pounds in his throat with his hand still raised, and he can feel his hand shaking. He breathes out heavily, the whoosh of his breath gently musing up Langa’s hair.

Langa’s face scrunches again, and Reki panics, immediately stilling and feeling his breath catch in his throat. Slowly, Langa’s eyes peel open, and he tilts his head to look up at Reki, whose vision is clearly blurry from sleep.

“Reki?” Langa’s voice is rough, and his accent is even more prominent now. Reki’s fingers shake even harder.

“What’re you…?" He trails off, breaking into a loud yawn that reveals his white, slightly crooked teeth.

Reki laughs nervously, forcing his hovering hand to move from where it was still poised over Langa’s head and up to scratch at the back of his neck. Langa's sleepy eyes follow his hand, his brows slightly furrowed.

“I’m just, uh, messing around, y’know?” Reki whispers, gesturing loosely to his computer. Langa’s gaze slides to it, and he squints his eyes, but Reki knows his best friend struggles a little with reading the Japanese characters, and he smiles softly when Langa’s eyes dart back to him for a translation.

“What’re you looking at?” Langa asks, and Reki’s heart lodges in his throat as Langa lets his head thump back down to rest on Reki’s shoulder.

“Uh…” Reki’s voice isn’t working, not with Langa looking up at him like that, with his blue hair haloed on the pillows underneath him and his wide, icy eyes.

How was he supposed to explain that he was looking for ways to make Langa feel more at home here with Reki so that he wouldn’t leave him? How is he supposed to tell him that he is his favorite person, that just the thought of him makes his insides itch, and that he wants to show him he cares about him? Gods, he is so gone that it’s a serious problem.

Langa raises his eyebrows, a slight concern creasing his forehead. Reki clears his throat and imagines packing all of these traitorous feelings into an itty-bitty box and shoveling it far, far away.

Reki reaches over, grabs his sketchbook, and holds it up for Langa to see. “I was working on new ideas for..." Damnit, what is he supposed to say now? He really needs to think of excuses for his weird actions in the future.

Langa leans forward, eyes roaming over the piece of paper and the stray scribbles and doodles. He tilts his head curiously, and Reki feels him shift to get a better look.

Reki feels panic rise up from his gut as Langa looks at the little snowflakes he’s drawn on the corners and the broken sentences he’s jotted down. Langa’s going to figure out what he’s doing, and he’s going to think he’s strange—too strange to hang out with, be friends with, or skate with forever. He’s going to lose him forever, and he is cursed to be alone for the rest of his life. Gods, he is such a loser, and–

“Are these designs for that new board?”

Reki’s brain screeches to a halt. “Huh?”

“The new board for that customer? The one with the purple hair? Didn’t they want something ‘wintery’?”

Thank the gods for Langa’s cluelessness. Reki seizes on the excuse immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” he rambles. “I couldn’t sleep and wanted to work on it as soon as possible, but I didn’t really know what to do. I wanted to draw something up, but I didn’t know exactly what I was doing cause I wanted it to be super cool, y’know?”

Langa hums, looking at the snowflake sketches on the edges of the paper. “When I was little, we used to draw designs of snowflakes at school. Then, the teachers would help us fold pieces of paper and cut out the designs.” He looks up at Reki and points to the designs again. “You could do something like that.” He flushes, his voice getting much quieter and meeker. “Or, something.”

“You can make snowflakes out of paper?” Reki asks, looking down at his sketchbook. He flips to the back of it. There are plenty of blank pieces of paper there.

Langa hums and nods. “You can fold them and then cut out designs.”

“Can you show me?” Reki asks excitedly.

Langa nods his head up and down, causing his hair to fall in his face, and he sits up next to Reki, pulling away slightly. However, he lets his knee rest against Reki’s leg, so they’re still touching. Reki’s bare knee burns where it’s touching Langa’s bare skin, and he fiddles with his fingers anxiously.

“Do you have scissors? Or paper?"

Reki blinks himself out of his thoughts, immediately handing Langa his sketchbook and scrambling out of bed. He snatches a pair of scissors from his desk and climbs back under the covers.

Langa carefully tears a piece of paper out of the back of the sketchbook and folds it into a square and then into a triangle. He then takes the scissors from Reki and begins to cut small shapes into the folded side.

Reki watches, transfixed, as Langa meticulously carves out little designs into the paper. Langa is focusing so much that his tongue pokes out and his forehead creases. It’s so cute that Reki thinks that his heart is melting into a gooey mess.

He can’t stop the grin that splits his face when Langa looks up at him. He frowns, tilting his head, and Reki’s heart melts even more. “What are you looking at?”

“You.”

Oh shit.

Reki wasn’t supposed to say that. Gods, he definitely wasn’t supposed to say that. Langa’s cheeks are tinted pink, and he stares at Reki, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in shock. He feels his face flood with warmth, and he immediately scrambles to fix the mess he’s created.

“I mean, I was looking at you as in you cutting the paper for the snowflakes, y’know? Cause I don’t know how to do it, so I was thinking about how you’re cutting the paper and stuff. How do you get it to be that easy? How did you learn how to do this?”

Langa just shrugs, twisting the paper so he can cut out another piece. A sliver of paper falls into the bed. Reki will clean it up later, probably. He probably won’t.

"C'mon, man,” Reki whines. “Tell me how.”

A shadow of a smile appears on Langa’s face. “I learned it in school when I was little. I think it was during recess once, when it had been too cold to go outside.” The expression on his face goes a little wistful. “My mom and dad helped me hang up the ones I made all around my room, so it always looked like it was snowing.”

And isn’t that adorable? Reki can imagine a little Langa running up to his parents, arms full of paper snowflakes, begging to hang them up around his room. How the paper would turn yellow from the sun and how some of the cuts would be lopsided from children’s safety scissors.

Reki watches as Langa cuts a few more pieces out of the folded paper, his motions careful and practiced. He’s internally taking notes because wouldn’t it be perfect to make more of these? To make enough to cover the ceiling of Langa’s boring room? Or maybe his own? Reki would love to stick these to his walls and to the roof of his room—to do anything to make Langa feel more at home in Japan.

Langa sets down the scissors and looks up at Reki, quietly asking if Reki is ready, and he nods fervently. He watches with barely contained excitement as Langa gingerly unfolds the paper, opening up the edges, and reveals a perfect little snowflake.

It’s more geometric than the drawings of snowflakes that Reki had done, made up mainly of simple triangles and little squares, but it’s so Langa, with its crisp edges and slightly uneven lines, that it makes Reki grin. It’s the furthest thing from stylistically perfect, but that’s what makes it so special, and Reki pounces forward, snatching the paper creation from Langa’s hands.

“Oh, woah! Dude, this is so freaking cool!” He twists it back and forth, trying to look at it from all angles. He feels Langa shift on the bed next to him, leaning in closer.

“It’s not that cool,” he mumbles, and when Reki turns to look at him, he can see the flush that sits high on his cheeks has returned.

“No, no, this is brilliant!” Reki declares. Langa ducks his head, and Reki’s heart pounds.

“Can I try?” Reki asks, already rooting in the bed for his sketchbook and the scissors.

Langa hums and nods, scooting over to sit across from Reki. He takes the piece of paper that Reki offers him and shows him how to fold it so that the quadrants will all end up the same and which side of the paper to cut on so that it will all match up in the end.

All the while, Reki babbles about how cool and interesting this is and how they never did this in school and how unfair it is that you got to do such fun crafts growing up and we didn’t. Langa just laughs, gently fixing Reki’s hands when he starts to cut on the wrong side.

Eventually, the final product is a slightly wonky paper snowflake that doesn’t look nearly as good as Langa’s, but Langa is grinning at Reki, and Reki’s stomach feels as though it is full of butterflies, and he’s laughing quietly in the dark room with his favorite person in the whole world.

Reki immediately insists that they make more, and so they do. They spend hours designing more snowflakes, ranging from circles to squares to shapes that neither of them can name. Each one is unique and special, and Reki forces Langa to help him hang them all up around his room.

They dangle from almost every elevated surface, covering the colorful room in a blanket of white. They talk, laugh, and work until the sun is peeking through the window and shining through the cuts in the paper snowflakes.

Reki hangs up the last one from his ceiling fan, a simple square with long spikes, and turns to look at where Langa is sitting on the bed, one of Reki’s quilts wrapped around his shoulders. He looks so soft—so ridiculously soft that Reki can’t help the hopeless grin that splits his face. Langa smiles back, just as happy and tired as Reki feels, and Reki jumps down from the chair he is balancing on and plops down right next to Langa.

It’s kind of surreal to look at his room now. Reki had never seen snow in real life before, but sitting here, next to Langa in his room, which was now covered in large white snowflake crafts meant for children, he could imagine how beautiful it must be. He can imagine how Langa fell in love with it so many years ago.

“Thank you, Reki,” Langa breathes. Reki turns his head to look at Langa and freezes. The dappled light from the snowflakes dances across his face, illuminating his eyes and causing his chin to fall into shadow. He’s just so damn pretty that Reki can’t take it.

Reki feels himself blushing. “For what?”

“For this.” Langa gestures widely toward the room.

Reki’s skin itches from the urge to wrap his arms around Langa and never let him go. To just keep him here with Reki, where they can do silly crafts to remind him of his home and cuddle all day, every day. For the rest of infinity.

Before Reki can become totally incapacitated by his own indecision, Langa leans into his shoulder, and Reki quickly wraps his arms around him in a sideways hug. He squeezes him tightly, and Langa hums.

“Of course, dude. Anything for you.”

“Anything?” Langa asks, leaning even more heavily into Reki’s side. His voice is getting slightly slurred, probably from exhaustion, and it’s even easier to hear his accent.

“Anything,” Reki insists. “Anything for you to feel at home here.” Here with me.

Reki hears Langa mutter something in English, but he isn’t sure what he said. In response, Reki just holds him even tighter, and Langa giggles.

Anything for Langa to feel at home here.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(2: Cookies)

Knock! Knock!

Reki spins around, a comically large mixing bowl clasped in his arms and cookie icing coating the front of his shirt in splotches of red, blue, and green.

Shit, Langa’s early.

“Koyomi!” Reki calls, desperately trying to brush some of the flour that’s ended up in his hair into the sink. “Can you get the door? It’s Langa!”

He hears her start to yell some kind of response, but before he can fully understand what she is screaming at him, one of the timers he sent up starts blaring at him. He yelps, almost slipping in his slippers to scramble over to the oven.

In his haste to get to the oven and his potentially burning cookies, he almost drops the bowl he is holding. To right it, he overestimates how much to tilt it, which causes even more sugary icing to spill onto his shirt.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His kitchen looks like a bomb just went off in it. Flour covers every surface like a fine layer of snow. Used measuring tools and dirty dishes are littered on almost every available surface. Stray balls of unused cookie dough are strewn throughout the room. The timer is still screaming behind him.

This is a complete mess.

And Langa is early.

Oh, he is so screwed.

He had been so excited when he invited Langa over this morning. He had stayed up late last night researching other winter traditions and had stumbled on the treat that was Christmas cookies. Even though he doesn’t really celebrate Christmas and isn’t really sure if Langa does or not, he does know that Langa loves sweets. So, by extension, Langa should be familiar with the idea of holiday cookies.

At least, he hopes so. Before he had found a good recipe, he had been tempted to text Ms. Hasegawa to see if she had one. But then he remembered Langa telling him one time that his mother was terrible at baking and always almost set the kitchen on fire whenever she tried.

That particular problem is currently happening to Reki. At least this will make Langa feel at home, Reki hopes.

The recipe that Reki has been following boasts being the easiest cookie recipe ever, and yet, Reki has almost set the kitchen on fire twice, mixed up the sugar and salt three times, and somehow turned a recipe that was supposed to take an hour and a half into something that has taken almost four hours.

He hears the door open, and he panics, whirling on his heel and slamming the bowl down on a dirty countertop. His slippered feet slide across the floor as he dashes to the oven. The kitchen already smells like burnt sugar, and he winces, yanking open the oven door. The cookies inside look like a disaster: the once uniform balls of dough have now melted together to form one formless mass, and the edges are blackening and burning.

Gods, he wants to cry. He had been trying to do something nice for Langa, and now it’s all ruined. He should just give up. Who would want to be friends with him anyway when all he did was mess things up? Really, who could possibly fail this much at making cookies?

Just as he’s about to stick his own head in the oven, he hears the soft tread of footsteps on the kitchen floor.

“Reki? Are you here? Your sister let me in and–”

Reki slowly turns around to face Langa, embarrassment burning his neck and his face. He can’t even raise his eyes to meet Langa’s.

“Hey, man,” Reki sighed, feeling more than defeated. Gods, he feels like such a dumbass.

He twists his hands nervously, almost violently, with how badly he’s shaking. Why is he so nervous? This is so stupid. Langa won’t stop being his friend just because he messed up, right?

He glances up at Langa. He’s looking around the room, eyebrows slightly furrowed, as he takes in the total disaster that Reki created. Reki winces, curling in further upon himself, and Langa’s eyes snap to him. He quickly rips his gaze away, staring at his feet as his face flushes.

There’s a soft hum from Langa, and then the hurried sound of feet shuffling returns. Reki half expects him to just turn around and leave. Reki wouldn’t blame him. He went and made a huge mess when he had only been trying to do something nice for Langa.

A hand rests on his shoulder, and Reki’s head jerks up. Langa is standing right next to him, his eyes worriedly searching his face. “Are you okay?” he asks, concern clear in his voice. “Are you hurt?”

Langa is standing very close to him right now, close enough for Reki to count his eyelashes if he wanted. His concerned stare is making it a little hard to breathe, and Reki feels his palms start to sweat a little.

His stomach feels a little bit floaty, like when he drops in on a tall halfpipe for the first time in a while. Langa’s looking more worried by the second, and Reki starts a little when Langa grabs his hands and starts searching those too.

“Wha…” Reki trails off, watching as Langa carefully wipes away some of the colorful icing with the edge of his shirt, still inspecting his fingers.

“Did you burn yourself?” Langa questions, twisting Reki’s hand over. “It’s all red. It also smells like smoke in here.”

“No, ah, that’s red food coloring.” Reki lets his hand be twisted back over again. “Must’ve accidentally dyed my skin.”

Langa lets out a pent-up breath and looks up at Reki. Reki notices that he doesn’t let go of his hand. He tilts his head, reminding Reki endlessly of a confused puppy, and leans in even closer.

Reki’s breath catches in his throat, and it takes everything in him not to immediately jerk away. “What’re you…?”

Langa’s free hand reaches up, hovering a few centimeters from Reki’s skin. He hesitates, some emotion that Reki can’t name flashing across his face. His eyes flint around Reki’s face, and he feels himself flush. His lips part and then close, and Reki is suddenly struck by how pink and cracked they are.

“You also have–um–frosting? On your nose?” The way Langa phrases it sounds like a question, even though Reki knows for a fact that he has blue icing above his eyebrow and green splattered on his nose.

Langa is so close right now that Reki can’t focus on anything else. Distantly, he wonders if Langa can feel the way that Reki’s heart is beating through their clothes because of how close they are.

He can barely smell the smoke coming from the oven over the scent of Langa’s laundry detergent from his fresh clothes. It smells earthy, yet clean. He knows for a fact that Langa’s mom chose it and not him because Langa always forgets to put soap in his laundry machine when he does it.

The high points of Langa’s cheeks are tinted a pale pink, a little bit darker than his lips, and Reki’s face is so close to Langa’s that he can see the circles that run under Langa’s eyes, slightly darker than the rest of his skin. It would have been unnoticeable if he hadn’t been this close.

Langa’s fingers dip closer and stop, and Reki watches with bated breath as Langa’s jaw sets. The fingers lower even more, and Reki can’t help the little gasp he lets out when his fingers brush against his nose.

They’re cold, almost unbelievably so, and so gentle when they wipe away the green frosting Reki knows is stuck there. When Langa pulls his finger away, it’s stained almost a violent shade of green.

Then, without hesitation, Langa pops his finger in his own mouth. Reki chokes as Langa licks the icing off his finger. His face feels like it's on fire from how hard he’s blushing. All of the blood rushing to his head is making him lightheaded.

Langa pulls his finger out of his mouth and lowers it, but not before Reki can tell that it’s stained his fingertip green. That must mean his nose is stained green too. Damnit.

Langa’s eyes search over him again, and a smile tugs at one side of his lips. Gods, Reki can barely breathe.

“You had frosting there,” Langa says softly.

“Yeah…” Reki breathes, feeling slightly off-kilter. His eyes flicker between Langa’s eyes and mouth almost unconsciously. Langa’s blue eyes follow the motion.

Langa’s smile grows, and he raises his hand again. “You have some more on your face.”

“Do–do I?”

Langa hums, dipping his head just the littlest amount to nod, and raises his hand to wipe at Reki’s face again. Reki holds his breath, waiting for the soft brush of Langa’s cold fingers against his burning skin, and–

Beep! Beep!

Reki and Langa jump, each of them flinching back. The alarm Reki set is ringing again, louder than ever. He whirls away from Langa, sprinting to where he last left his phone to turn off the wretched noise. He slams the off button, shuts off the ringing, and lets out a long breath.

“Sorry about that, dude. I set it for—"

The smell of burning cookies suddenly makes itself painfully known.

“Shit!"

Reki scrambles over to where the oven is all but pouring smoke. He reaches out to grab the cookie sheet, flinching back in pain when he almost burns his fingers because he forgot the oven mitts. He lets out a string of curses that would make the guys at ‘S’ flush and stuffs his burning fingers in the pair of forgotten mitts, pulling the entirely burned cookies out of the oven and dumping them on the countertop.

For a moment, neither Reki nor Langa move. Both of them just stare at the charred abomination in front of them.

Langa leans in a bit, inspecting the burnt mess. Reki wants to cry. “What did you make?”

Reki pulls off the oven mitts and tosses them in frustration. “Cookies. At least, that was the goal. Unfortunately, that happened.”

Langa squints his eyes and tilts his head. It causes his hair to flop on his face.

He then reaches forward to poke at the scorched mess, and Reki watches in despair as a piece of it crumbles and breaks off. He groans, his body going limp as he slumps to the ground.

“It’s ruined,” he whines, burying his face in his dirty hands. He immediately regrets the action when he feels more frosting stick to his face and flour tumbles out of his hair.

“It’s not ruined,” Langa argues, reaching forward to pick up the burnt lump that fell off. More small pieces crumble off of it, and Reki slumps even further into himself.

Reki raises his head, watching Langa. “Wait! No, don’t–”

Langa pops the ruined cookie into his mouth. He bites down on it, and Reki can hear the crunch it makes. He winces. Langa doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he just finishes chewing and swallowing, his face painfully neutral. He then reaches forward and swipes his finger through one of Reki’s many bowls of icing and licks it off his finger. He hums thoughtfully.

“Why would you do that?!” Reki demands, springing up from his position.

Langa shrugs. “I wanted to taste it. You obviously put a lot of work into it. I wanted to have some."

He says it like it’s obvious and like he didn’t just eat one of the most burning and disgusting things to ever exist.

He turns to smile at Reki. The corner of his mouth is stained blue. “The cookie is a little…overcooked. But the icing is really good.” His smile widens. “It reminds me of when my mom tries to bake.”

Reki’s mouth opens and closes uselessly, unable to think of a response. His brain buffers again when Langa reaches forward again to have another taste of the frosting.

“It’s not terrible?”

Langa shakes his head. “It’s not bad. I’ve had worse.” He waves his fingers again, now stained with various shades of red, blue, and green. “The icing is tasty.”

Reki sputters. What?!

“Why were you making cookies?”

“Oh, I, uh, thought you would like them? But it doesn’t matter cause I failed so miserably that it doesn’t even count, and I’m sorry and–”

“You made these for me?”

There’s a certain intensity in Langa’s voice that forces Reki to meet his gaze. He flushes, reaching up to rub nervously at his neck.

“Yeah, man. I remembered you saying something about holiday cookies, and I found a recipe and wanted to make it for you cause–” Oh no. He’s bordering a little too close to the truth now. He backpedals quickly. “Either way, it failed, so it doesn’t even matter, so whatever. It doesn’t really matter anyway.”

“It does matter, Reki.” Langa suddenly grabs one of his hands, and Reki almost flinches at how cold Langa’s hands are. It feels nice compared to how sweaty his palms are currently. “You made me something. Thank you.”

“I tried to make you something,” Reki pouts. “I didn’t succeed in actually making it.”

“You did make something for me,” Langa points out, squeezing Reki’s hand. “Thank you.”

Reki’s face is on fire again, both from the power of his own blush and the soft smile that Langa is giving him. He clears his throat, desperately wanting his blush to go away.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers. Langa grins, and Reki’s traitorous heart pounds.

Langa looks around the ruined kitchen, and Reki feels his embarrassment spike. He hurries to speak. “I’ll clean all of this up, and then we can go do something, okay? Just give me, like, ten minutes?”

“I can help you,” Langa says, squeezing Reki’s hand one more time before dropping it and starting to pull dirty dishes for him to bring to the sink.

“You don’t have to help me,” Reki protests, trying to jump in front of Langa so he can’t reach the sink. He attempts to swipe the dishes out of his grip, but Langa just easily sidesteps him.

“I want to help,” Langa says, dumping the bowls and measuring cups in the sink. His tone leaves no room for argument. Reki slumps, fondness filling his chest as he watches Langa roll up his sleeves and begin to scrub the burnt flour from one of the baking sheets.

He grabs some paper towels, gets them wet, and begins the laborious task of wiping flour off the countertops and off the floor. For a few moments, neither of them spoke; they just focused on cleaning.

“Hey, Reki?” Langa suddenly asks, turning to face Reki from the sink,

“Yeah?"

“Do you think that Joe will let us use his restaurant kitchen to make cookies if we ask nicely?”

Reki grins. “I bet he will if you ask.”

“You’re right.” Langa dries his hands off and pulls out his phone. He types something, and almost immediately there are two quiet dings!

“What’d he say?” Reki asks, standing up and peering over Langa’s shoulder and at his phone.

Six-Pack Joe (Married to Cherry)

me: can reki and i use your kitchen please
(Read 2:35 pm)

Six-Pack Joe (Married to Cherry): No, you two will burn the whole place down.
(Read 2:36 pm)

Six-Pack Joe (Married to Cherry): Langa, I know you’re reading these. I will call the cops if you two break into my restaurant again.
(Read 2:36 pm)

Reki scoffs, pulling back. “We wouldn’t burn anything down.”

He ignores the pointed look Langa gives him.

“Don’t worry,” Reki reassures, “I know where Joe keeps his spare key.”

Langa pockets his phone and turns to where Reki is pulling on his shoes and searching for his coat in the other room. “Where?”

“Underneath that hideous flower pot that Shadow gave him.”

Langa makes a tiny noise of recognition and sits down next to Reki on the small bench, pulling on his shoes too.

As soon as Reki finishes, he races to the door, yanking it open and grabbing his skateboard from the front steps. He hears Langa scrambling behind him, and he laughs, jumping on his board and pushing off against the ground quickly.

“I’ll see you there, Langa!” He calls over his shoulder gleefully.

“That’s not fair!” Langa whines behind him.

Reki just laughs, feeling lighter than ever.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(3: Maple Syrup)

“What’s that?”

“What is 'what?'”

“That,” Reki says, pointing to the small jar on the store’s shelf. Whatever was in it was a light amber color and looked very thick. There was a little red leaf on the front of the jar. “You’ve been staring at it for, like, two minutes.”

Langa reaches up and grabs it, pulling it down from the rickety shelf. It’s so small that it fits perfectly in Langa’s bare palm. Reki reaches forward with his gloved hand to poke the glass container. There’s no Japanese on the outside, just a few lines of what look like English and maybe French. Maybe this is a sign that Reki should have paid more attention in class.

“What’s it say?" Reki asks, looking up at Langa for help.

“It’s maple syrup,” Langa translates.

Reki hums, plucking it out of the other teen’s hands. He tries to twist the cap off, but he can’t with his mittens on. He hands it to Langa, who easily twists the top off and holds it out for Reki to smell.

Almost immediately, he’s hit with a sugary, woody scent. It’s nice, if not a little strong.

“Woah, dude! That smells sweet.”

Langa nods, screwing the lid back on. “It’s almost everywhere in Canada. I haven’t had any since I moved here. They don’t sell it in normal stores here.”

The small store they’re at is a specialty export shop on the complete other side of town. They were sent there with a list of things to get as collateral for almost burning down Joe’s kitchen last week. They managed to convince him not to call the cops and sue if they went, and they helped him collect a few items for his menu.

The store was tiny and slightly cramped, but cozy. It smelled like a million different spices inside and was pleasantly warm compared to the cold winter air outside. The shelves were a little cramped and disorganized, but Reki liked the charm it gave the shop.

“What is it?” Reki asks, watching Langa fiddle with the lid.

“It’s sap from a maple tree. You boil it down and add sugar to it,” Langa explains. “I used to have a maple tree in my backyard.”

“Huh,” Reki says, reaching for the jar again. He turns to look at Langa, who is currently scrolling through the list that Joe sent them, and his breath catches in his throat.

Langa looks so pretty standing in the store, wearing only a thin jacket with his face tucked into his blue scarf. His hair is all wind-tousled from their ride over, revealing his overgrown roots and the shagginess of his last haircut. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, and his nose is slightly pink. His eyebrows are furrowed as he reads the list Joe sent them, causing his forehead to crease adorably. He looks so messy and cute in the warm, artificial light of the shop that it’s almost painful.

Reki’s heart pounds, and something in his chest melts when Langa begins to bite at his lip distractedly. He wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his days with the other teen, to see him every day and laugh and skate, and to just do anything with him. He wants nothing more than to see him smile and laugh and to watch his face turn that beautiful shade of pink that it does whenever Reki smiles.

Reki blinks. What the hell is he doing? Why is he thinking these things right now? He gives himself a little shake to clear his mind.

“Did you ever make maple syrup? Like, yourself?” Reki asks.

“Yeah,” Langa answers. His voice sounds slightly subdued and a little sad. Oh shit. “My dad used to help me make it.”

Damnit. How does Reki always find a way to make Langa sad? All he wants to do is make his best friend feel better and be happy, and he always finds a way to screw it up. Gods, he is such a horrible person. He should just stop trying. Langa would be happier if Reki stopped being his friend.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, dude.”

I’m sorry, dude? What kind of response is that? Oh, just kill him now. Maybe he should have just let Adam finish him off during their last beef.

Before Reki can open his fat mouth and make another mistake, Langa reaches over and plucks the jar out of Reki’s covered hands.

“It’s okay. It just... reminds me of home. Of how long it’s been.”

And something seizes in Reki’s chest. Isn’t he trying to make Langa feel more at home here? Is he trying to bring more of Canada to Japan? This is the perfect opportunity!

He swipes the jar back and sets it in the shopping bag that Langa’s carrying. “I’ll buy it for you!”

Langa sputters. “What? No, you don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Reki insists, already pulling out his spare cash and coins to count how much he has. Maple syrup shouldn’t be that expensive, right? He doesn’t think so. “You said that you haven’t had it in a while, so I’m gonna get it for you.”

“Reki–” Langa tries to plead, but Reki cuts him off.

“I want to. Besides, I can and will fight you, and do you really want to lose to me here in this little shop where the shop owner can see? It’ll be pretty embarrassing.”

Reki catches the barest hint of a smile on Langa’s face as he tucks his face down into his scarf. “Are you sure? It might be expensive.”

“I’m positive! And besides, how expensive can it be?"

Langa chuckles, and Reki flushes, quickly elbowing him in the ribs as he pushes past him to get the rest of the items. After carefully examining the many different types of honeydew melon, smelling pricey jars of spices, and almost dropping a bottle of olive oil, they finally collect everything they need for Joe.

At the checkout counter, the elderly shopkeeper helps them scan and package everything away. When it comes time to pay, Langa pulls out the sleek card Joe had given them to pay for his items with. Reki internally thanks every god that could exist that Joe had given them his card to pay; their salary at DopeSketch could never have even paid for half of these groceries.

Reki waits for Langa to turn his back, gathering up their small bags and tucking them into his backpack, to pull out the tiny jar of amber maple syrup.

“And this too, please,” Reki mumbles, pulling out his wallet again to count his spare change.

The shopkeeper’s eyes crinkle as they smile, and they nod, scanning the item and beginning to package it up.

Reki looks up at the price displayed on the electronic screen and feels his heart sink. He knew that everything in this store was going to be expensive, but he didn’t think that it was going to be that expensive. He looks down at his money again, counting it much more slowly, and feels a mix of dread and disappointment rise in his throat so thick that he can barely breathe.

"Um, I, uh, don’t have enough,” Reki says softly, feeling the tips of his ears burn in embarrassment. He looks over at where Langa is zipping up his bag and starting to head over to where they left their skateboards outside. He turns back to the shopkeeper, fidgeting nervously with his fingers. “Sorry, I can–”

The cashier machine makes a satisfying little ding! and Reki recognizes it as the sound it made when the payment had been finalized. He whips his head up to stare at the electronic display, except this time the total balance needed says zero.

He jerks his head to stare at the shopkeeper in awe. They’re giving him a warm smile, one that stretches their skin and softens their eyes.

“It’s on the house, son,” they say, voice soft and old from age, and Reki feels something in his chest swell.

“Oh, oh, you don’t have to do that,” Reki stutters. He’s so shocked he can't think. Why are they doing this for him? Were they watching the whole time when Reki promised Langa that he would get this for him and how Langa’s face had brightened even more than the sun?

They hum, tilting their head to stare at Langa and then back at Reki. “Is this for that boy?” they ask, and Reki feels his face flush. He nods slowly.

They pick up the maple syrup with one gnarled, wrinkly hand and hold it out to Reki. After a moment, he accepts it, immediately bowing low.

“Thank you, thank you,” he says, feeling his own grin split his face.

When he rises again, the shopkeeper is already waving him off, stepping away from the counter, and going back to wherever they had been before. For a moment, Reki is frozen, shocked to his core by the generosity of someone else. He forces himself not to run as he hurries out the door to Langa.

He plops himself down on the curb next to Langa, immediately holding out the jar of maple syrup. Langa’s eyes go wide, flitting between the syrup and Reki’s smiling face.

“You didn’t have to buy this,” Langa says. Reki presses it into his hand, and he slowly curls his fingers around it.

“Consider it a gift,” Reki hums, practically vibrating from excitement. “Now, open it! I want to know what it tastes like.”

Langa smiles, flashing Reki a bright smile that takes Reki’s breath away. Using his nimble fingers, he unscrews the lid. The bitter wind carries the sweet scent easily, and Reki pulls off one of his gloves.

Langa dips one of his fingers into the thick maple syrup, and Reki follows, quickly popping his finger in his mouth so that it doesn’t drip anywhere.

Immediately, his mouth is overwhelmed with sugary goodness. It tastes vaguely like caramel, with hints of vanilla and something else that Reki can’t name but knows he already loves. It’s sweet, sticky, and so damn good that he laughs and dips two more of his fingers into the jar.

“Gods, this stuff is incredible!” Reki exclaims, licking more maple sugar off of his fingers.

He knows that if his mom were to see him eating with his fingers like this, she would kill him. But sitting here with Langa, who’s pressed close to him and grinning and cradling the glass jar like it’s filled with molten gold, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Thank you, Reki,” Langa whispers, voice thick with some emotion that makes Reki’s stomach squirm. For his rationality, he’s going to assume it’s just filled with sticky syrup and not some other emotion. “Thank you.”

Reki thinks distantly that Langa’s smile is even sweeter than the maple syrup.

“Of course, dude,” Reki replies, grinning brightly and throwing his free arm around Langa’s shoulders. Langa leans into his side, and Reki squeezes tight, pressing his cheek into Langa’s blue hair.

They spend almost an hour just sitting there on the stoop of the small shop, huddled closely together, and eating maple sugar with just their fingers.

Soon, the sun begins to set, staining the sky in shades of light burgundy and rich amber. They grab their bags, and Langa tucks the jar of maple syrup into the front pocket of his backpack. They grab their skateboards and push off, heading over to meet Joe before his dinner rush.

As they roll away from the small corner shop, Reki looks out into the horizon and thinks that the color of the clouds perfectly matches the shade of maple syrup in a tiny glass jar.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(4: Hot Chocolate)

“What’re you doing?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, well, that just made it entirely my business.”

Reki groans as Miya forcibly leans against him, craning his neck in an attempt to look at what Reki is currently reading on his phone. Reki twists his shoulders and hunches forward, cradling his phone to his chest. Miya just elbows him in the gut, and when Reki lets down his guard for a second to gasp, the younger teen swipes the phone away.

“Hey! What is wrong with you?” Reki wheezes, attempting to grab his phone.

Miya just scampers away to the other side of the restaurant dining room, weaving through the tables effortlessly, while Reki crashes into almost every single one.

Damn Joe and his weird, cramped dining room, Reki thinks angrily as his side bumps into another table.

“Give that back!” Reki hisses, making another grab for the back of Miya’s hoodie. Miya just spins around on his heel and sticks his tongue out, quickly ducking behind the bar and dashing into the kitchen.

Reki can feel panic building in his stomach. He had been searching for more things to do to bring Canda to Langa and completely forgot that his current company consisted of a middle-schooler who couldn’t find his own fucking business. And now said middle schooler is definitely going through Reki’s unlocked phone.

Oh, he’s so screwed.

“Miya! Give me my phone back!”

There’s the sound of loud giggles, and then a door slams, and Reki’s heart sinks to his feet.

“No, no, no,” he mutters to himself as he rounds the end of the bar and sprints to the kitchen doors. He grabs the handle and jiggles it, but it won’t budge. The brat locked it. “Miya, open the door!”

“Why should I?” comes the haughty reply, and Reki wiggles the handle even harder.

“Because it’s an invasion of privacy to steal someone’s phone and look through it,” Reki hisses.

Miya’s face pops up in the small circular window on the door, a shit-eating grin on full display, and Reki flashes him the middle finger. Miya just sticks out his tongue and raises Reki’s phone higher and—shit. Reki can still see his phone open and displaying what he had been looking at last.

It was a website that described traditional winter drinks and food, with pictures of happy couples and families smiling scattered throughout the webpage. The tab was bookmarked, and Reki knew for a fact that Miya was going to scroll through his phone and see the little note Reki made in his notes app of all of the things he wanted to do for Langa.

Wait, why was he nervous? Didn’t all friends spend hours searching for the perfect things to do for their best friend just so they can see them smile because it makes their heart flutter to see them happy, and they would do just about anything to make them stay with them forever?

No, friends definitely don’t do that. Or maybe that’s something that best friends do? Reki’s firmly ignoring the little voice in his head that’s saying all of those things might be for something far more than just best friends.

For the sake of Reki’s quickly dwindling sanity, he’s just going to ignore that little voice.

“Miya, if you don’t give me my phone right now, I’ll call Cherry and Joe and get you kicked out of here forever!”

“And how will you call them if you don’t have a phone?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“...just give me my phone back!”

“Hm…no, I don’t think I will.”

Reki just thuds his head against the door. Miya cackles.

Reki groans, hiding his face in his hands as he sinks to the ground. This is it. This is where he dies. Forget that insane race with Adam. He’s going to die here from embarrassment.

The silence is deafening.

Then, the door behind Reki’s back opens suddenly, causing him to fall backward with a yelp. He crashes into the floor’s hard tile, and he groans. Miya is standing over him, his stolen phone in hand and a contemplative look on his face. Reki freezes.

Reki gawks at Miya as he glances between the phone and Reki’s face. What if Miya tells Langa what he’s trying to do? Oh, everything will be ruined. He should just curl up and die right here. He doesn’t deserve friends if he’s this pathetic and

“I think Joe has some hot chocolate in one of his cabinets.”

Reki’s brain screeches to an abrupt stop. “Huh?”

“I said, I think Joe has some hot chocolate in his cabinet.” Miya gestures with the phone toward the tall cabinets across the room. “Are you stupid, slime?”

It’s like Miya is speaking a different language. Reki’s brain can’t comprehend what’s going on. “What?”

Miya sighs dramatically, then spins on his heel and stomps over to where he had pointed. Reki, still lying on the floor, stares blankly at him as he drags a stool over and clambers on top of it, opening the cabinet door and rifling through its contents.

Miya looks back to where Reki is and shoots him a death glare. “Help me look, idiot,” he snaps. Reki breaks out of his shock and rolls his eyes, pulling himself to his feet and stalking over to Miya.

“What’re you doing?” Reki asks, peering into the shelves that Miya is currently destroying in his search.

Miya gives him the dirtiest side-eye Reki has ever seen. “What do you think I’m looking for?”

Reki shrugs, feeling a little lost and very dumb.

Miya pinches the bridge of his nose and gives a long-suffering sigh. “You are so stupid; do you know that?” He gestures to the phone left on the countertop, the screen bright and displaying a cup of hot chocolate. “I’m helping you make that.”

“Oh.” Reki’s never had hot chocolate before; he had only been looking at it because Langa’s mom had said how much Langa used to like it after snowboarding. He had looked for it at the store once but couldn’t find it anywhere. “Why?”

Miya stops and stares at Reki so intensely that Reki fidgets under his gaze. “I’m going to ignore you just said that,” Miya mutters, turning back to the cabinet and shoving another stray box out of the way.

Finally, Miya lets out a little hum of satisfaction, drags out a small blue box, and plops it down on the countertop. Decorating the front are a bunch of white snowflakes, similar to the ones that Reki and Langa made earlier. There’s also a mug brimming with a steaming chocolatey-drink and dotted with tiny marshmallows. Reki picks it up and shakes it, causing the contents to clatter inside.

Swiss Miss: Hot Chocolate Mix is written on the front in bold letters. Reki feels himself start to grin.

“How did you know Joe had this?” Reki questions as he flips the box over. “I couldn’t find it anywhere in town.”

“Joe made it for Cherry once,” Miya says, climbing down from his stool and pulling out his own phone. “I think he got it imported for him or something from America.”

Most of the instructions on the box are in English, but after examining the pictures on the back, Reki thinks he has an idea of how to make the drink.

He glances over to where Miya is still typing. “Who are you texting?”

“Langa,” Miya responds, sliding his phone into his pocket. He completely ignores the look of shock that Reki shoots at him. “I invited him.”

“What?!” Reki yelps. “Why would you do that?”

Miya just shakes his head. “You two are so hopeless. It’s clear that you need some serious help.”

Reki frowns. “What do you mean?”

Miya just turns away, muttering something about mugs and marshmallows and stupid boys.

~~~

Reki’s helping Miya grab more mugs off the top shelf when he hears the back door of the restaurant open and close, hinges squealing, and then the kitchen door swing open.

He spins around and almost drops the mug clutched in his hands. Langa’s standing in the doorway, running his pale fingers through his windswept hair to straighten in. The corners of his mouth are turned down in a slight frown as he stares at his phone, causing his forehead to crease and his eyebrows to pucker. His cheeks are slightly pink, probably from the chilly wind, and his skateboard is tucked underneath his arm.

“Miya, you said to come here immediately because there was an emergency,” Langa says, still looking at his phone. “What happened?”

Langa looks up from his phone, his face still crinkled with concern, and his gaze lands on Reki. His face instantly lights up, all traces of worry melting off his face. One side of his mouth quirks up into a soft little smile, and Reki’s heart just about soars.

“Reki!” Langa exclaims, dropping his board to the ground and immediately hurrying over to where Reki is standing, quickly leaning against him and dropping his head onto his shoulder.

Something warm and bright settles in Reki’s chest, and he grins, wrapping an arm around Langa’s shoulders. “Hey, man! How are you?”

Langa hums. “I’m okay. I was having lunch with my mom when Miya texted me that there was an emergency and that I needed to get here as quickly as possible.” He tilts his head so that he can meet Reki’s eyes. “He didn’t tell me you were here, though,” Langa mumbles, voice soft.

Reki just tightens his hold on Langa’s shoulders, ignoring the way his heart is currently fluttering in his chest. Langa’s small smirk widens. Distantly, Reki really hopes that Langa can’t feel or hear the way his heart is pounding, cause that would be terribly embarrassing.

“Gross.”

Reki’s head whips over to where Miya is staring at them with blatant disgust. Reki flips him off and rolls his eyes, reaching up and dragging another mug down.

“So,” Langa says, looking at the assortment of ingredients arranged in front of them. “What was the emergency?”

Miya picks up the box of hot chocolate mix and thrusts it into Langa’s hands. He fumbles to grab it, and Reki reaches out with his free hand to steady it. Langa’s eyes widen as he reads the front, and he looks up at Miya and then Reki in disbelief.

“Hot chocolate?” he whispers, looking completely shocked. It’s painfully adorable, and Reki’s heart squeezes and his stomach twists. “How did you…?”

“It was Reki’s idea,” Miya says, shrugging.

Reki jolts, his head spinning, as he looks up at Miya. There’s no way that Miya just said that something was Reki’s idea. He would rather die than give credit to someone else. And besides, it wasn’t really Reki’s idea at all. It was pretty much all Miya’s, so why would he be giving Reki credit?

“Really?” Langa asks, voice so soft and heartbreakingly happy.

“Well…I–I mean,” Reki stutters. Langa’s looking up at him with his big, blue eyes. They’re sparkling with some emotion that makes Reki’s insides itch.

Reki glimpses Miya shooting him the nastiest glare he has ever seen in his whole life out of the corner of his eye. It's almost as though Miya is telepathically saying to him, you worthless slime, I’m doing this for you so don’t fuck it up.

Reki flashes Miya a grin and turns back to Langa. “Yeah,” Reki mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was my idea, but Miya helped me with it.”

Langa leans more into Reki’s side, pressing his cold cheek against Reki’s shirt. “Thank you,” he whispers. “You’re amazing, Reki.”

Reki almost chokes on the flush that burns his neck and face. “Don’t–uh–mention it.”

He can hear Miya cackling. Immediately, any bit of appreciation he once held for the younger boy disappears. He scowls at him, and Miya pretends to gag.

“Okay,” Reki says, turning to the different items they have piled up on the counter. “How do we make hot chocolate?”

Langa pulls away from him slowly, and Reki instantly misses the warmth, but it’s quickly replaced with the bright grin Langa shoots at him.

Langa walks them through the steps of making hot chocolate, carefully pulling out the packets of powdered cocoa mix and helping Miya fill up pots of milk to boil. Reki is gently pulled away from the stovetop and can’t find it in himself to be mad as Langa stumbles through an apology while also telling him he doesn’t want the restaurant to burn down. Miya is far less kind about this and sticks his tongue out at Reki any time he even looks at the stove.

Instead, Reki helps Langa dump the packets into three separate mugs and add a copious amount of marshmallows on top. Langa dumps two packets into his mug, and Reki smiles to himself, thinking it's just so perfect that someone as sweet as Langa likes such sweet treats.

Miya forces Reki to stand on the other side of the kitchen when it comes time to pour the boiling milk into the cups. He pouts in the corner until Langa beacons him over again with a bright grin, holding out Reki’s ready hot chocolate.

Before Langa can warn him not to, Reki takes a large gulp. The chocolatey liquid immediately burns his tongue, and he yelps. Even though his mouth is currently on fire, he can tell why Langa loves it so much. It’s sweet and thick and very good, even though it's hotter than hell.

Miya cackles as Langa fusses over him. “’m fine, ’m fine,” Reki insists, sticking his tongue out to stop the burning.

“Ha! You’re such an idiot!” Miya giggles, almost bent in half from laughing so hard.

Langa’s still staring at him in worry. “Are you okay, Reki?”

Langa’s face is very close, close enough for Reki to see the little bit of chocolate on the corner of his mouth and to smell the sweetness on his breath.

“Yeah, yeah, ’m fine,” Reki says, a bit breathless. Gods, how is it fair that Reki has to act normally when Langa is this close to him, making his brain feel all funny?

Langa still doesn’t look convinced, and his frown deepens, making the little bit of chocolate stuck to his lip even more prominent. Acting completely on impulse, Reki reaches up, wipes the chocolate away with his thumb, and pops his thumb in his mouth.

Langa’s face goes so red that Reki is almost concerned. Then what he just did catches up with him. Oh gods, why did he do that?! What is wrong with him? Langa must think he’s absolutely insane, a weirdo, and completely repulsive now.

Reki watches, frozen, as Langa blinks slowly, almost like his brain is buffering too, and his mouth opens and closes without making a sound.

“You had chocolate there,” Reki says dumbly. Gods, and he is dumb, isn’t he?

“Oh,” Langa breathes. His gaze is flickering all over Reki’s face, darting up to his eyes and back down to his lips so fast that it’s making Reki’s brain spin.

Just as Reki’s about to open his mouth again to probably say something even stupider than before, he hears a deep sigh. Both him and Langa’s heads whip around to see Miya staring at them with a deeply unimpressed look.

“You two are so stupid,” he declares. He then blows on his hot chocolate and takes a careful sip.

Langa slowly leans back and picks up his own hot chocolate, and Reki hurries to follow. This time, he is much more mindful of the hot drink and, thankfully, doesn’t burn himself again. He hums happily, grabbing the bag of marshmallows and dumping more in.

Langa smiles at him over his own mug. He holds out his mug, and Reki pours a handful of marshmallows into it too.

“Thank you, Reki,” Langa murmurs. “This is very kind of you.”

“Anything for you, man,” Reki replies softly. He can’t tell if the warmth in his face is from the steam or his blush.

Miya gags into his drink.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(5: Sledding)

“Hey, Reki? Your mom said you’d be in here.”

Reki looks up from where he had been screwing together two skateboard bases to see Langa standing in the doorway to his workshop. He instantly grins, pushing his goggles up into his hair and scooting over so Langa can join him on his workbench.

“Hey, dude! Yeah, I’m just working on a little project.”

Langa hums, sitting down next to Reki and surveying the mess of tools and scrap pieces of wood that Reki has scattered around.

“What’re you making?”

Reki just grins. “It’s a surprise, dude. If I tell you what I’m working on, then it ruins it.”

Langa pouts, and it makes Reki laugh. “Can’t you just tell me what it is? Please?”

“No, no! That’ll ruin the surprise. Do you not have surprises in Canda?” Reki jokes, reaching over and handing Langa his own pair of safety goggles.

Langa sulks but grabs the goggles and puts them on. “Of course we have them in Canada. That doesn’t mean I like them, though.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” Reki declares, picking up his drill again. “At least, I hope you will.”

“I like everything you make, Reki.”

Reki has to take a deep breath to steady the sudden shaking of his hands, something warm and pleasant curling in his gut. He smiles despite his best efforts, and he ducks his face to hide the flush there.

He really does hope that Langa likes this one. He had been researching winter activities for weeks, and the one that popped up the most was sledding, something that Reki had heard of once or twice before but wasn’t entirely familiar with.

However, after reading a few articles about it and watching a video or two about it, it just looked like a really big snowboard with no wheels. And instead of riding on concrete, you ride it down a snowy slope.

So, Reki decided to screw together two unused skateboard bases and make a sled for them to ride on. He wasn’t really sure how they could ride it, but he supposed that they could ride it down a grassy hill or something. It’s not like he could make it snow, anyway.

This was something he was confident he could do. Making stuff like this is what he’s good at, so he’s really hoping it goes well. This is the last idea he has, so he’s got to make it spectacular.

Reki forces himself to pay attention as he drills another screw into the wood. The scent of sawdust fills the workshop; it is warm and comforting. It doesn’t quite cover up the scent of Langa’s shampoo, though. Sitting in his workshop with Langa pressed up against him, the only light being Reki’s work light, makes him feel so at home that it makes his heart ache.

He hopes, deep down, that Langa feels at home here too.

Reki leans in closer to examine the seam between the two boards. He holds out a hand without looking up and hears Langa push a few things around on his desk until a pencil is gently slotted into his fingers.

He uses the pencil to mark the place of the next screw and tucks it behind his ear. He holds out his hand again, and this time a screw is placed in it. He uses his other hand to steady it. When he holds out his hand for the third time, Langa is already pressing his automatic drill into his palm.

He flashes him a smile in thanks and briefly watches as the high points of Langa’s cheeks bloom a rosy color. He feels his own face get hot in response, and he forces his gaze back down to his project.

Maybe Langa thought it was a little hot in here? Come to think of it, Reki was feeling pretty warm, but it only became like that once Langa came in here. Huh, totally weird.

He steadies the screw at an angle and uses the drill to secure the metal in place. Once it’s flush with the wood, he sets down the drill and inspects the potential sled again. He knocks it once with his knuckle and picks it up, flipping it upside down and shaking it.

It doesn’t seem like it’s going to fall apart. Reki grins. Thank the gods. Now comes the real test.

He stands up suddenly, tucking the sled under one arm and grabbing Langa’s bisep with the other. “Come on, man,” he says, dragging him up and toward the door.

Langa stumbles into Reki’s grasp, tripping over his feet as he tries to follow. “Wha–where are you going? What did you make?”

“Just trust me and follow!” Reki says, quickly slipping his shoes on and pulling his hoodie over his head. “We’ve got to test it!”

A piece of his hair had gotten stuck under his headband when he pulled his hoodie on, and he blows at it impatiently. This proves fruitless when it just flops back into his eyes again. He sighs, already trying to shift the sled onto the ground so he can fix his hair.

Cold fingers brush against his skin, and Reki freezes. The fingers are so gentle as they reach up and tuck Reki’s wild hair behind his ear. Reki is stuck staring at pale, narrow fingers.

“Is this okay?” Langa’s voice is quiet and soft, somehow even more gentle than his fingers.

“Yeah…yeah,” Reki breathes. His brain feels scrambled; he’s forgotten everything except for the feeling of Langa’s freezing fingers against his flushed skin.

Langa’s fingers trail along his ear as he finished tucking his hair away. Reki’s throat feels like he’s swallowed sand. He tries to make a sound, a word, literally anything, but all that comes out is a choked hum.

The edge of Langa’s mouth tilts up in amusement. The action breaks Reki out of his stupor, and he frowns, shaking his head to pull himself out of his head.

“Come on,” Reki says, dragging Langa toward the door again.

“Okay, okay,” Langa chuckles, allowing Reki to bodily pull him outside.

Reki tugs them through his backyard and toward the large hill across the street. Once they reach the top, both of them huffing and heaving, Reki drops the sled to the ground. The hill is both tall and steep, covered with plenty of grass and not many obstacles. This is the only real place Reki could think of that’s close enough to try this out, so he’s really hoping this works.

“Okay, okay, I think this will work,” Reki mumbles, examining his homemade sled one more time. The bottom should be smooth enough to glide over the grass, but he won’t know until they try it.

“What will work?” Langa asks, peering over Reki’s shoulder, to look at the hill and at the board. “What’re we doing?”

Reki grins and picks up the board he made. This was it. He knows that Langa used to go sledding back in Canada, so he really can’t mess this up.

“I made a sled!” Reki says, holding up the homemade sled in front of him so Langa can see it. “I know that it’s not really a sled, but I thought it was pretty close, considering how sleds and skateboards are kind of similar. I also know that there’s no snow, but I figured that if we have enough speed on plain grass, then we can still go pretty fast, y’know. But I’m not really sure if it’ll work, so we just gotta test it and–”

“You made this for me?”

Reki blinks at Langa’s answer. “Yeah? Should I not have?” Oh, man. Should he not have done this? Was this a stupid idea? “I–I thought it would be fun, y’know? You’ve talked about sledding before, and I know you can’t really do that here, so I wanted to make the next best thing. Is it not right? Was this a stupid idea?”

Reki can feel himself beginning to panic. Oh, why did he try to do this at all? He shouldn’t have done this. Prying into Langa’s life like this is pretty rude and kinda creepy, now that he thinks about it. Oh shit, he messed up this time.

“You’re amazing, Reki.”

Reki’s brain stops working. It’s becoming a bit of an issue how his brain stops functioning whenever Langa compliments him. “Huh?” he chokes out.

“You’re incredible,” Langa says, a wide smile creasing his bright eyes. He looks excited, and it makes Reki’s head spin. “I mean, you were able to make something for me that you’ve never used before. You’re always making amazing things for me. You’re very talented.”

“Oh, uh, I-uh." Reki’s heart is pounding so loudly that he’s certain that Langa can hear it. His face is on fire, and he raises a hand to block it. “‘s no problem, man.”

Langa shuffles on his feet. “No one has ever done stuff like this for me before,” he admits.

“Really?” Reki bursts out and then quickly covers his mouth again with his hand. How could no one have done stuff like this for him before? Langa is so amazing, funny, and kind; it’s a wonder that he even wants to be friends with Reki at all.

Langa shakes his head. “I didn’t…have many friends back home. I had teammates or colleagues, but not many friends.” His eyes meet Reki’s, and once again, Reki is blown away by how wonderful and unique his best friend’s eyes are. “I’m really lucky to have you as my best friend, Reki.”

And as much as Reki loves hearing those words, a little, horrible part of him wilts. He should be happy with ‘best friends,’ right? That’s all he’s ever wanted, and yet, some terrible part of him screams for something more.

“Yeah, we’re best friends,” Reki says quickly, forcing a smile on his face. He needs to stop being so weird and just be thankful for what he’s got. Langa smiles back, the high points of his cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

Reki clears his throat, holding up the sled again. “Should we test it out?”

Langa nods rapidly and grabs the sled from Reki’s hold. He sets it down at the top of the hill and sits on it. He’s sitting more on the back of the sled, and Reki wonders where he’s supposed to–oh.

“Am I going to…sit in front?” Reki asks. Something in his gut coils and burns red hot at the idea of leaning back against Langa’s chest and being that close to him.

Langa nods, scooting even further back on the sled to make extra room for Reki. He swallows, steeling up his remaining nerve, and sits down stiffly.

Almost immediately, Langa snakes his arms around Reki, and he sighs, melting back into the natural warmth that Langa exudes. It’s odd how warm he is against the biting cold of the wind when he’s normally so cold.

“Okay,” Reki starts, “how do we do this?”

“We gotta scoot up a little closer,” Langa speaks into his ear. His breath is warm on Reki’s neck, and he has to suppress a shiver.

They both awkwardly shuffle the sled up the hill until they are teetering on the top. Reki can already feel the familiar adrenaline rush from ‘S’. It feels like liquid energy has been injected into his veins, turning everything into a shiny, exciting rush. He turns his head to look over his shoulder at Langa and finds him already looking at him, something soft in his gaze.

He shoots him an adrenaline-rush-filled smile, all sharp and bright and energetic. Langa grins back, something crazy and excitable taking over his features.

Together, they push off the edge.

It starts a little slow, but soon the sled is quickly building speed, sending them hurtling down the hill. Reki crows in delight and feels Langa’s arms around his waist tighten in response. The wind whips through their hair as they zip down the hill. It’s like skateboarding, but somehow it's even better because they’re together.

It’s fast—fast enough that if one of them leans the wrong way, it might send them tumbling out of control. There’s a danger to the fun, with how fast they careen down the slope, but that’s what makes it so enticing.

Reki feels drunk on the energy coursing through his body. The wind is cold, biting, and so perfect. He laughs, throwing his hands up high like he’s on a rollercoaster. Behind him, Langa laughs in his ear, a true, loud laugh that sends sparks running through his veins.

It’s so, so perfect.

Suddenly, Reki spots a large rock up ahead. It’s huge—definitely large enough for them to hurt themselves if they crash into it. They’re going so fast that the rest of the world blurs around them. Reki bets that Langa can’t even see the obstacle.

They’re hurtling closer and closer every second, and the adrenaline sparking through his body makes him act. In one fluid motion, Reki grasps Langa’s arms around his waist and throws his weight sideways, pulling both of them off the sled and tumbling across the grass.

They go head-over-heels, the leftover momentum careening them further down the hill. As they roll, limbs crashing into each other, Reki hears the sound of wood crashing against rock, and he winces.

Eventually, they stop. They’re each breathing heavily, sprawled across the tall grass. Reki knows that he must be covered in random bits of grass and dirt. He knows that a few new bruises are already forming on his back and his arms, but he can barely feel them over the rush, still buzzing under his skin.

Then he hears Langa start to laugh.

The sound is so comforting and happy that it makes Reki’s chest bubble with fondness, and he starts to giggle too.

Reki turns his head to see Langa’s long limbs sprawled everywhere. There are grass stains on his clothes and leaves in his hair. There’s mud smeared all over his face, and his hair is all tangled. He’s smiling, though, and that’s all that matters to Reki.

They must look ridiculous, Reki figures, lying in the grass and laughing like little kids. But this is Langa, and Reki knows that he would do anything for him.

“Can we do that again?” Langa asks. He’s still laughing as he tries to speak, which makes it almost impossible to understand what he’s saying.

Reki just laughs even harder.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(+1: Snow)

It’s freezing outside, and Reki is absolutely miserable.

He huffs, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them in a futile attempt to warm them up. He’s wrapped up in his warmest hoodie, and yet the wind cuts through it like it’s nothing and freezes him to his core.

It’s late, late enough that to get out, Reki had to sneak out through his back window so that he wouldn’t wake up any of his family. He’s sitting on the back steps, waiting for Langa to skate by so they can go to the new twenty-four-hour ramen restaurant that Langa’s been begging to go to for days.

Reki couldn’t even dream of telling him no, so here he is, huddled up in his thin hoodie and trying not to freeze to death while he waits for his best friend to hurry the hell up.

The sky is covered in thick, ominous-looking clouds that block out any view of the stars. The only lights are the street lamps, and even those look dim. Another gust of wind whips through the air, and Reki shivers violently.

This has gotta be the coldest night of the year, Reki muses, tugging his headband over his ears. Oh, the things I’ll do for Langa.

And isn’t that so true? He would do pretty much anything for Langa, including freezing his ass off just for some mediocre ramen.

He wonders briefly if Langa is cold. This kind of weather is probably not even close to how cold it gets in Canada. Okinawa has pretty warm weather that stays pretty warm all year, so Reki has to guess that Langa feels even more out of his element here.

Although it’s so freaking cold tonight, Reki wonders if this weather reminds Langa of his old home.

He ducks his head down to avoid another gust of wind and desperately hopes that Langa is close.

He’s run out of ideas for bringing Canda here. He’s done hours of research and scoured his brain for every piece of home that Langa has mentioned, but so far, he’s got nothing, and it’s killing him.

The only other thing he can think of is getting it to snow, but that’s impossible.

He feels the family sense of defeat and disappointment begin to curl in his gut, and he has to physically shake his head to clear his thoughts.

He hears the sound of plastic scraping against concrete and looks up to see Langa skating down the street, phone in hand, and not wearing any jacket or gloves. Reki jumps up and bounds over to meet him, dropping his board to the ground with a loud clatter. Langa glances up at the loud noise, and his face breaks out into a wide grin that makes Reki’s heart flutter.

“Reki!” Langa exclaims, leaning back on his board to skate up close to Reki. He stops just a few inches away from Reki’s board and hops off, immediately getting into Reki’s personal space. His eyes are bright in the streetlamp light, and his face flushes a pretty pink from the cold.

“You don’t have to announce my name every time you see me, buddy,” Reki says, pushing his board back and forth with his foot. “Also, why are you not wearing a coat? It’s freezing out!”

“I like saying your name,” Langa says, shrugging. Reki prom[tly chokes on his spit and attempts to play it off as a cough. “And it’s not that cold out. I’m fine.”

Reki doesn’t doubt this. He knows that Langa could probably stay out here all night without feeling very cold, considering how different the weather is. He probably likes this weather much more than the heat, if Reki’s being honest. Maybe he wishes that he were back home, where it was like this all of the time.

Isn’t it his job, as his best friend, to make Langa feel at home here? Or is that just something Reki made up just to get Langa to stay here with him? Miya never goes out of his way to make anyone comfortable, but that’s just how Miya is. And Cherry and Joe just fight all the time, so that’s not a great point of reference either.

Langa deserves to feel at home, and if Reki can’t do that, then what kind of friend is he?

A gentle tap on his shoulder broke Reki out of his mini spiral. He jolts, glancing over at where Langa is looking at him. Oh, shit. Did he miss something important? Damnit, he was so lost in his head that he didn’t even realize that Langa had been talking to him.

“Sorry,” Reki mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I guess I just spaced out. What did you say?”

He expects Langa to look irritated, or at least a little annoyed, but all Langa does is smile softly. It makes his eyes all squinty, and he tilts his head a little to the side. It makes Reki’s heart do kick-flips in his chest.

“I asked if you were too cold.”

“No, no, I’m fine! Just got a little lost in my head, is all.”

Langa hums, immediately accepting the answer, no matter how many times Reki has said it. Gods, Reki really doesn’t deserve him as a best friend. He’s so lucky that Langa wants to be friends with him.

Just as Langa’s about to push off and start skating down the road, Reki’s hand shoots out and grabs Langa’s arm. Langa stops, turning to look at Reki with a questioning look.

Why did he do that? Oh, why did he do that?!

It’s like his hand reached out without his permission. He just wanted to stay here with Langa for a little longer. Logically, he knows that they’re going to get dinner and hang out all night, but there’s something special about this moment right now. With both of them standing underneath the shitty streetlamps, with Reki shivering from the cold and Langa looking at him with his beautiful blue eyes.

“Are you happy here?” Reki asks in one breath.

Langa’s brow creases in confusion. It’s so cute that Reki feels his lungs stop working. “Yes?”

“Are–are you really?”

“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”

Should he tell him? Should he tell him all the ways that he tried to make him feel at home here so Langa will never leave him?

His throat feels like it’s been filled with glue. “I–uh–just wanted…shit, hold on."

Langa steps off his board fully, reaching out to grab Reki’s fidgeting fingers with steady, cold ones. For some reason, this cold doesn’t bother Reki. It’s a solid presence, one that Reki loves and craves.

“I just…wanted to make sure you feel comfortable here,” Reki whispers.

“Of course I’m comfortable here. I’m with you.”

“No, no. I want to make sure you feel comfortable here. In Okinowa.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Reki feels like pulling his hair out. How does he not get it?!

“I know that this isn’t your home, so I wanted–I want to make sure you feel…”

Langa hums questioningly, leaning even closer to Reki. Gods, he is beautiful, isn’t he?

“Feel what?”

Reki feels like he’s on the edge of a cliff. Like one wrong step will send him careening off into the wild and terrifying unknown. His heart is pounding so hard that he wonders if Langa can hear it. His fingers are sweating and are probably so gross right now, but Langa isn’t letting go of them. If anything, he squeezes tighter.

Some part of him wants to just shut up. To just play it off like a joke and pretend that whatever is happening isn’t happening. To just go back to their normal lives and forget about the treacherous thoughts and feelings that Reki has been ignoring for weeks.

He looks up at Langa’s face. His icy eyes are staring at Reki with such fondness and thinly veiled concern that it makes him squirm. The high points of his cheeks are dusted a rosy pink, bright against his pale skin. His hair is falling into his face, the faded blue brushing against his nose and falling in his eyes.

Reki has so much to say and yet can’t make his mouth move. He’s too busy staring at Langa.

Langa’s eyes roam all over his face, so fond and soft and caring that Reki’s knees feel weak.

“Reki,” he whispers. They’re close enough that Reki can feel Langa’s breath on his face, which is warm and sweet like sugar.

Reki can’t pull his gaze away from his best friend. He wants to drown in his eyes; he wants to break through the ice and live in the warmth that lies beneath for the rest of infinity.

His best friend.

Is it bad that he longs for more?

Reki opens his mouth to finally say something, anything, when he notices something.

A small speck of white drifts from the sky and lands in one of the strands of Langa’s hair. It's pure white and so, so small that Reki almost missed it. His eyes latch onto it and watch as it lands gently and then disappears.

Another white dot floats down and settles on Langa’s nose, immediately melting at the contact.

A few more twirl in the air, dancing and swooping with ease. They scatter, then land on Langa’s face and hair. The ones in his hair last long before disappearing, and without a second thought, Reki reaches up to brush his fingers against them.

The white specks are cold—almost as cold as Langa’s hair—and thick and fluffy. Reki squints his eyes and sees little spikes and designs hidden in the dots. Like the paper snowflakes that now cover Reki’s room. They’re beautiful.

“Is that…”

“Snow,” Langa breathes, his voice full of wonder and awe. He steps back and swivels his head around, almost as if he's trying to see every individual snowflake as it falls.

Reki pulls his gaze away from the snowflakes and looks at Langa. He’s practically glowing; his smile is so wide and bright that it rivals the snowflakes in pure beauty.

“It’s snowing,” Langa whispers again. He looks around, hands shaking where they’re holding Reki’s. “It’s snowing!”

“It’s snowing!” Reki repeats, a grin beginning to split his face at Langa’s reaction.

The world around him is being filled with bits of swirling white. What started out slow is quickly building, and soon the two of them are surrounded by a world of white. Each snowflake is illuminated by the streetlamps, causing the world to sparkle like it’s raining diamonds.

It should be cold, but somehow, standing this close to Langa, it isn’t. It’s warm, wonderful, and so beautiful that Reki feels like he can’t breathe. Langa is laughing, bright, and joyful, and it’s so wonderful that it makes Reki laugh too.

He looks over at Langa and immediately freezes. Langa’s spinning in the whirlwind, arms out, and dancing, looking so happy that it makes Reki’s chest compress. He looks like he’s made of snow—sparkling, bright, and gorgeous. He looks like he was made to be in the snow, like he’s finally found his home.

It’s breathtaking. Langa is breathtaking.

“You’re beautiful,” Reki whispers. It’s just a fact—one that Reki has to say—or the world will come to a crashing halt right here.

Langa whirls to Reki, snow swirling and enveloping him like he’s being spun out of snow. It sticks to his hair and to his clothes, bathing him in white. He’s grinning, and Reki thinks his smile is whiter than the drifting flurries surrounding them.

“What?” Langa asks, breathless and happy.

Reki clears his throat and brushes his hand through his hair. There’s snow in his hair, and it melts under his sweaty palm. Tell him, that treacherous voice in the back of his head whispers. Tell him the truth.

And for once, Reki listens.

“You’re beautiful.”

Langa freezes, his arms falling to his sides. His mouth is open slightly. He looks shocked, all flushed and pretty, and looking so right that it prompts Reki to speak again.

“You look so wonderful,” Reki says, stepping forward. The snow has already accumulated on the ground, and it crunches under Reki’s foot. “Even more beautiful than the snow.”

Langa still hasn’t moved. Reki takes it as a reason to step closer again. They’re just a few inches apart now, and Reki can see the way their puffs of breath intertwine in the cold air.

“I want you to feel at home here. I want you to stay here with me. Forever.” Reki reaches up with a shaking hand to brush some of Langa’s hair away from his face. There’s snow in Langa’s eyelashes, clumped together thickly and perfectly framing his blue eyes. “For the rest of infinity.”

Reki feels one of Langa’s hands slowly cup his jaw, frigid and gentle. His fingers trace Reki’s jawline as he speaks.

“I’ve been trying to make you feel at home here, ‘cause I thought you might miss your old home. I just wanted... I want you to stay with me.”

Langa can probably feel the way that Reki’s heart is thundering in his throat through his fingers. He shifts his hand to cup Langa’s face too, using his thumb to brush away some stray snow.

“That’s why I made the paper snowflakes and–and almost burned down my kitchen trying to bake. The old shopkeeper helped me buy the maple syrup, too. I can make another sled easy peasy if you want me to. Just–anything, I’ll do anything for you, Langa.”

And isn’t that the pure and simple truth? Reki would do anything for Langa. Anything. Everything.

“I really, really like you, Langa,” Reki whispers.

I love you, the voice murmurs. Reki closes his eyes, leaning into Langa’s cold, familiar touch.

“I love you.”

Reki’s eyes fly open. Langa’s staring at him so intently that it makes Reki’s head spin.
“Huh?”

“I love you,” Langa repeats, voice sure and steady and so, so warm.

Reki didn’t expect this to happen. He expected Langa to smile and wave him off, or pretend to not hear him. He didn’t expect…this.

“Wha…what?” he stutters.

Langa smiles, all wonky and sweet, and so Langa that it makes Reki smile too. “I love you,” he mutters. “Can I kiss you?”

Reki is already surging forward, pressing his lips to Langa’s. Something inside of Reki’s core clicks into place because it feels so perfect, like they were just made for each other.

Langa’s hand cups his face tighter and pulls him closer, sliding his mouth against Reki’s in a way that makes his head spin. His hands are so cold, but his mouth is so warm and soft that it makes Reki melt.

Reki tangles his hands in Langa’s hair and kisses even harder. Langa responds the same, soft yet intense. It’s not awkward or full of nervous fumbling. It’s wonderful and beautiful, and Reki is in love.

They part for breath, mist curling between their mouths. Langa’s eyes are practically glowing from how brightly he’s smiling. Reki’s bouncing on his feet from all the adrenaline that’s flowing through his veins.

“I love you, too,” Reki says.

Suddenly, Langa leans forward and kisses the tip of Reki’s nose. Warmth blooms from the spot. When he pulls away, he’s grinning. “You had some snow there,” he says, and Reki laughs.

Langa kisses his cheek, his forehead, his chin, and his eyebrows, everywhere, saying each time that there was snow there. Langa’s lips melt any snow on Reki’s face, and Reki lets him, laughing and leaning into each gentle touch.

When Langa kisses the bridge of Reki’s nose, Reki asks, “Does the snow remind you of home?”

Langa just wraps his arms around Reki, enveloping him in his warmth. The world around them is a blur of swirling white, and it’s magnificent. Reki leans in, wrapping his arms around Langa’s strong core.

“Anywhere that I’m with you is home, Reki.”

Langa kisses him again, and again, and again. He kisses him until the snow begins to turn their fingers numb and their faces red. They stay out there until the wind and the cold force them inside to bury themselves under fluffy blankets and drink mugs of stolen hot chocolate.

Reki knows that the snow won’t last forever, but it’s here now, and he’s going to enjoy it tomorrow with Langa.

Because wherever Langa is, Reki feels right at home.