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When Reki moved apartments in search of a quieter roommate, this is not quite what he had in mind.
Sure, he doesn’t have to spend the nights awake and angry anymore, pressing his pillow onto his ears to muffle the squeaking sounds from the room next door, which is great. He doesn’t have to do all the house chores or constantly tidy up after others, which is even greater, and what a relief it is not to arrive home after a tiring day and be received by an unexpected, chaotic party his roommate decided to throw last minute without any warning – a party that will leave litter Reki will have to clean up the next day.
So, in that regard, his new roommate has been great. Amazing, even.
The only problem is – he’s just a tad too quiet.
They’ve been roommates for almost a month now and they’ve barely exchanged more than a few sentences. The few times Reki has gotten him to speak – the few times he has seen him – Langa always gave him one-word sentences and short, cut off words, his ice-dewy eyes carrying more blues than just the color, thin lips downturned, eyes forlorn and castaway.
At first Reki thought Langa simply didn’t like him – which is a weird sentiment because all his life Reki has been told how likable he is, with his high-voltage grin and cheery voice and impossibly soft yet fiery eyes, like flickering candles in the dark. So it’s a little weird he and Langa wouldn’t get along. Reki got along even with his noisy, pain-in-the-ass former roommate, so why would Langa be different?
Turns out Langa is not just quiet with his voice, but with his presence too, as if he’s so afraid to be in the world he doesn’t dare make a single harsher sound. Like he hates how much space he’s taking up in the house, like he’s trying to make himself so invisible no one will ever notice him.
But Reki does.
And he worries.
Worries about how much time Langa spends holed up in his room, how it must always be dark inside because Reki rarely catches a sliver of light coming from the closed door, hates the dark circles and the red-rimmed eyes he sees in him the few times he catches him in the kitchen, as if Langa has cried so much the blue in his eyes has faded against the red sting of tears.
Most of all, he hates the soft cries he hears in the times he wakes up in the middle of the night, so gentle Reki sometimes thinks he’s imagined them, so gentle he’s sure Langa is pressing his face down on the pillow so Reki won’t hear his anguish.
They don’t really know each other, and yet it breaks Reki’s heart into so many pieces he doubts he’ll ever be able to find them all and piece them back together.
It gnaws at him, that he doesn’t know what’s going on or how to help. He doesn’t know how to probe and clearly Langa doesn’t want to tell him, probably doesn’t know how to ask for help either, but that doesn’t stop Reki from going out of his way and doing what he can.
When he notices Langa has been skipping meals, Reki starts ordering more take-away or, on the rare occasions he does have some time to spare on the kitchen, cooking for two and leaving trays at Langa’s door. He never quite catches when Langa opens the door, but in the morning the plates are usually empty, and Reki can only hope it’s because Langa enjoyed the food.
Still, Reki wishes he could do more, and it’s with much relief that one day he opens the apartment door to Langa’s mom, who came to visit her son but stays to have a talk with Reki afterwards.
“Thank you for what you’ve been doing for Langa,” Nanako says, a worry-wrinkled frown settling above her gentle brown eyes as she gazes at Langa’s closed door.
Reki blinks. “I haven’t done… much.”
“Oh, you have. Langa told me a lot about you.” She gives him a warm smile that doesn’t reach her downturned eyes, still stuck to the door. Reki feels a pang slash through his heart. How much must she be hurting, to see her child like this? “He said you always make sure he eats and leave meals at his door, and that you put chill songs on and hum softly to them. He said that helps him calm down and makes him feel less lonely. He likes your voice, you know. I think you’re the only thing that’s been making him smile lately.”
For some stupid reason, Reki blushes, so much his cheeks must be the same blazing red of his hair.
“I… I wish I could do more. Maybe…” He pauses, afraid he’s overstepping boundaries or sticking his nose into a business that is none of his concern. Except it kind of is, isn’t it? Because even if Reki hasn’t seen much of Langa, he’s come to care for him. Every time he’s gotten a glimpse of his cyan eyes and pearly skin, his heart skyrockets like a firework popping out of his chest. And every time those eyes are teary, every time Langa goes back to his room and stays locked there, every time Reki hears his muffled sobs, his heart falls back down like colors fading out from the sky. “Maybe if I knew what’s going on?”
Nanako sighs and wrings her hands together, voice low and eyes flitting back to Reki for a second before darting back to the door.
“Langa is… depressed.”
Depressed. That’s not a word Reki is very familiar with. Sure, he’s heard of it, in news that didn’t end well or in flyers that tell you what depression is but are condescendingly full of smiles as if that could make it all better. It’s not a word Reki has ever felt, so here, in front of a mother who looks like she’s grieving both husband and son, he feels like a fish out of water, plucked away from his comfort zone much too suddenly.
Still, he wants to help. If there’s a way to make it better somehow, he will.
“Did something prompt it?” Reki ends up asking, hoping he’s not sounding too rude or ignorant. He knows there doesn’t have to be a reason; life is valid enough.
Nanako’s eyes soften, and she keeps them on Reki this time.
“It started after my husband died… Langa took it pretty hard. They were so close, him and his dad. So when he died, I fear a part of Langa went with him. For days after he barely ate and just wanted to be in his room. I couldn’t get him to talk or sleep, and when he did sleep, it was fitful and nightmare-filled. I got so worried I decided to move back to Okinawa, thought a change of air could do him good. But I don’t think it has helped much. I fear the abrupt change might have worsened it, actually. He’s been skipping classes and therapy and sometimes I don’t even know if he’s alive, as I don’t hear back from him for days. Which is why I was so happy when he moved here and started texting me more about this boy with the thousand-watt smile and spiky red hair.”
Reki’s head droops low. It’s not pity he feels, more like… a need to protect. A sense of wanting to make the pain a little easier to carry.
Nanako must notice his sadness, because her voice is gentle as she says, “Just now he told me every time you leave food for him he wants to leave a little thank you note but he thinks that’s too corny. Most of all he wants to thank you properly but he says he still can’t bring himself to, not just yet. He asked me to ask you if you could sing a little louder, so he can hear you better.”
“I…” One hand scratching at the back of his neck and the other fiddling with the strings of his yellow hoodie, Reki looks down, at his white-blue shoes. They just remind him of Langa. He sighs and looks back up. He had no idea Langa had noticed him this much, that he was so aware of his presence. That he liked his voice. “Sure, of course, I can totally do that. And I can give you my number and keep you updated on Langa if you ever fail to reach him.”
“Oh that would be wonderful, thank you! I should have come here sooner but work…” Nanako sighs, regret making creases burrow deep on her otherwise smooth-looking face. She chews on her bottom lip as she hands Reki her phone. To appease her a bit, and because he thinks everyone needs something to smile about once in a while, he adds a cute smiley emoji to his name and gives her the phone back. Nanako chuckles when she notices it, the corner of her lips and eyes lifting a bit. “I feel better knowing he has you. I feel like I should apologize for the trouble—”
“Oh no, please don’t!” Reki shakes his head until his neck cracks, hands aimlessly flailing around. “It’s no trouble at all, I’m happy to help and I’ll do my best so Langa can keep being comfortable here. Is there anything in particular he likes? Like a dish or a videogame?”
“Hm, he loves poutine.”
Right. Reki has seen those in foreign TV shows. But where the hell is he going to find poutine in Okinawa?
“Hm… could you maybe give me the recipe? I can try to make some for him though it probably won’t be as good as the one he had in Canada…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll send you the recipe.” Nanako’s smile falters as her brows knit over her nose. “Hm… the thing he loves most is snowboarding, though. I fear I might have taken him away from it too soon, but he did say he’d never snowboard again, not without his father. He was the one who taught him, you know? They spent hours and hours out in the snow together.”
“Oh…” Reki rubs the palm of his hand over his nape. It rarely ever snows in Okinawa, and it’s not like he can just buy artificial snow online, can he? Maybe he can, he’ll look up into it. And into snowboarding videogames. Maybe Langa will like those. Or maybe they’ll remind him too much of his dad and will just make him cry harder. Reki doesn’t want Langa to cry. Granted, he’s pretty even if he cries, but Reki thinks his smiles must be so much prettier and how he wishes he could see one of those someday and—
“Reki, you there?” Nanako waves a hand in front of his face, calling him back to Earth and away from his Langa-related reveries. “I have to go now, but I’ll try to come here more often. Thank you for everything and please call me if something happens, alright?”
Reki nods. He’s never been one for future plans or thinking too much ahead. He likes to go with the flow, follow wherever the wind takes him. But for the first time in a long while, he tingles with the force and intensity of one single goal: to make Langa smile.
*
It happens when he’s coming back from the convenience store one day. He takes a different route and suddenly he sees it: a skateboarding shop, accepting workers. Reki’s amber eyes glint like fireflies when he sees all the skateboards inside and his heart soars well above his chest and into the clouds.
Skateboarding is a little like snowboarding, right? Sure, many of the mechanics and techniques are different, but the feeling must be the same. The thrill of speed, the adrenaline rush, the wind on his face… Reki thinks this is something Langa would like, so he decides there and then he will learn how to skate. He thinks applying for the job at the shop might be a good first step, since he will learn and be in contact with experienced skaters, so he does just that.
He makes up for his lack of experience with his cheerful enthusiasm, and Reki whistles the rest of the way home with the signed contract in his hands.
*
Turns out, learning how to skate hurts. Reki falls more times than he stands, his body a map of purple bruises and red scratches, and yet it’s worth it for those brief seconds he gets to fly on the board.
Days pass, and he falls and falls but always gets back up. Knees bruise and muscles sore but Reki keeps going until he can not only stand but actually push himself forward and speed up. He learns how to turn, how to ollie, how to flip, how to fall.
He can’t wait to get Langa onboard, so he practices harder, staying at the skate park until late and learning as much as he can from the seasoned skaters there.
One night when he gets home, Langa is splayed out on the living room’s couch, savoring a plate of poutine Reki made him earlier that day, one fry suspended midair as Reki opens the door and shrieks when he sees him.
He clutches hard at his chest. Goddamn. It should be illegal how good Langa looks in the dimly lit room, slivers of moonlight filtering through the window and making his blue hair sparkle silver in the night.
“Langa!” He says, just because his name tastes so good on his tongue. “What… whataya doing here?”
Which is the stupidest thing to say, considering they share this apartment and that Reki is beyond happy to see Langa out of his room for once.
Luckily, Langa doesn’t seem to take offense in the question. Instead, he plops the plate down on the coffee table and tilts his head, clear-crystal eyes scanning Reki’s face, then dipping down towards his body and back to his eyes.
“I was waiting for you,” he says, as if it’s simple, normal, easy. “You’ve been getting home later and later these days.”
“Shoot, sorry, I didn’t know—”
“I noticed? Yeah…” Langa blinks, long lashes fanning his snow-white cheekbones. “I don’t notice a lot of things, I admit, but I do notice you, Reki. Always have.”
“I… uhm…” Reki fidgets, sweat beading at his nape as he grips at the collar of his hoodie and tugs it away from his heated neck. Why is it so hot all of a sudden? “How’s the poutine?”
“Good.” Ranga licks the sauce off a finger slowly and oh boy, that does not help Reki’s situation at all. “Not as good as Canada’s, but almost.”
“I’ll take that,” Reki chuckles, trying to calm his heart down. The last thing he wants is to scare Langa off. But he still can’t believe he’s really here! In the living room, eating Reki’s food! Talking to him! And maybe… checking him out?
Reki’s brain shuts down at that, mouth falling open as he notices Langa’s eyes rake over his body again. His nose scrunches up, brows knit together. Ok, so maybe he doesn’t particularly like what he sees. That’s fine, no big deal, Reki can live with that. Right? Then why is his mouth so dry and his throat so tight?
All at once, Langa gets up, but instead of darting off to his room, he treads carefully towards Reki.
“You’re hurt.”
Oh.
Wait, does that mean…? Does that mean Langa is not disgusted with him, rather worried about him? That he was… waiting for Reki to come home to make sure he was alright? That means he still has a chance, right? Of what? Reki doesn’t know, but he also doesn’t want to blow it before he can find out.
“Reki, what do you keep doing that you come home all bruised lately?” Langa asks, concerned eyes flitting all over Reki’s blushing face. A second later, and Langa’s fingers are on his skin, carefully touching the fresh bruise below his brow. “Has anyone been bothering you?”
“N-no!” Reki clears his throat, heart hammering so loud in his chest it’s impossible only he can hear it. Langa’s fingertips are soft against his face as they trail over to his forehead and push some of his sweaty bangs away. “I’ve just been… learning.”
“Learning what, exactly?” Langa frowns and good Lord, he’s even prettier when he’s a little mad and Reki doesn’t think that should be allowed. It’s not good for his poor, racing heart. “Kickboxing?”
“N-no, it’s.. you’ll see! I’ll show you soon. Promise,” Reki mumbles, lips jutting out in a pout as he looks at Langa with his best starry, puppy-dog eyes, trying to will his worry away. He wants it to be a surprise, which is why he left the skateboard hidden in the bushes outside. “What about you?”
“Hm?” Langa blinks, dropping his hand as he seems to notice he was still combing Reki’s hair. Reki tries not to feel bad, but the lack of his touch is like facing the winter with no proper coat on.
“I mean… you’re hurt too.” He bites hard on his lips, regretting the words. Maybe it’s too much, too sudden, too soon.
Langa surprises him with the ghost of a smile, the corner of his lips pulled up ever so slightly. Reki itches for more.
“Yeah, but… I’m not so hurt anymore. Because of you. I’ve been meaning to thank you for everything you’ve been doing for me.” He wrings his fingers together like his mother had done – his gaze on Reki is as soft and translucent as a snowflake. “The food and the music and videogames and for… respecting me and my space. I really appreciate you not being all over me, giving me time and privacy.”
Reki would very much like to be all over Langa, but not in the way he’s referring to, so he keeps his mouth shut, blush spreading up to the tips of his ears and down to his neck.
“It’s no big deal.” He shrugs, trying not to squirm or faint. Langa’s stare is intense, and strange. Like a calm lake at surface but simmering deep beneath, a stormy sea. “It’s the least I can do, really. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“I’d feel better if you didn’t have those bruises all over you,” Langa says, curt and stoic, like it didn’t just send Reki’s heart into a frenzy and his mind to short-circuit. “Can’t you try to be more careful, with whatever it is you’re doing?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good. Now come, let’s take care of those wounds.”
With a determined look on his face, Langa slips his hand into Reki’s and leads him into the bathroom. He’s as bossy and firm demanding Reki to take his shirt off as he is gentle and tender tending to his wounds, his cold fingers on Reki’s heated skin sending shivers down his spine and warmth all over his belly.
It always feels good to be taken care of, but it feels almost too good when it’s Langa. He could get used to this – to them in tight spaces, sharing the same breaths, the heat between them like a physical thing, Langa’s careful hands on his careless body.
To them making their rented apartment a lived in home, eating poutine off the same dish and bickering over who washes and who cleans the dishes. Langa putting band-aids over his wounds while opening a larger one in his heart when he softly wishes him goodnight, not moving until he’s sure Reki has safely gotten into his bedroom.
Needless to say, Reki doesn’t sleep at all that night, dreaming awake of ocean eyes and hands so soft and tender it’s like his body was made to be held by them.
*
When he feels like he will probably not make a fool of himself, Reki decides to start skating on their street, just below Langa’s window to get his attention. He still doesn’t know how to properly approach him, how to ask him if he’d be interested in skating with him, because a rejection would hurt too much. Not so much because of all the effort and time Reki has put into it but because skateboarding is actually something he’s come to love quickly, and he’d love to share the fun with Langa.
Spring is changing into summer the day Langa sees it.
Reki glides down the street with steady speed and jumps in the middle of a new flip trick he’s recently learned when Langa shoves the window open and calls out his name.
“Reki! Oh my God… skateboarding?” His eyes shimmer with the late afternoon sun, soft silky strands fluttering with the light breeze. Reki is sure he’s an angel, sent down to earth to make the lives of mere mortals like him a little more bearable. “Is that what you’ve been learning?”
Reki falls perfectly back onto his board, beaming up at him. “Yeah! Whataya think? Was I any good?”
“Yeah! It… it looks really fun.” Langa’s expression gets pensive, faraway, probably thinking of snowcapped mountains and sliding down slopes.
This is Reki’s chance, and he’s going to take it.
“It is! Wanna try?” He asks, with a grin so big his cheeks hurt. “I have another board and well, I think it’d be much more fun with us two!”
Langa chews on his lip, hopeful gaze darting from Reki to his board and to Reki again.
“Yeah… I think so too! Wait for me, I’ll be right there!”
The first thing Reki sees when Langa runs to him is his dazzling, moonlit, happy smile.