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“Why did you convince me to accept the beef?” Reki punctuated his question with the snap of his wheels against the concrete. He had nothing more than a simple ollie in him, but that was fine. The minimal amount of focus it took to properly time the slide of his foot with the jump was enough to keep his eyes on the road ahead. “Seriously, what were you thinking?”
Langa drifted closer, but Reki couldn’t offer him more than a glance. He had to pay attention to the shallow bend of his knees, the rumble of his wheels, the sparse traffic. Anything but the destination at the end of what should have been a fun cruise through the city.
“I didn’t tell you to accept the beef.” Langa’s half-grunt half-huff was underlined with irritation, but coated with sympathy. It was also the truth.
“Yeah, well,” Reki stammered through a few words that could open a rebuttal with absolutely no idea what could have followed the nonsense. “You could have told me not to.”
It was a stupid argument, especially considering the two participants of the conversation knew Reki too well. He wasn’t one to turn down a challenge when his honour was on the line.
“I told you you didn’t have to,” Langa pointed out just before the pair split, each veering to one side of an oncoming car and probably scaring the hell out of the driver by cutting it so close. They drifted back together once they were certain the coast was clear, and Langa picked up where he’d left off before Reki could attempt to spew any more groundless arguments. “It was entirely your choice.”
“Yeah…” Reki couldn’t defend that one. Not as they rounded the last corner and their destination came into view, complete with the winner of the beef perched proudly on the railing that separated the sidewalk from the shop. The taunting grin perfectly showed off Miya’s fangs. So much so that Reki could nearly feel them scraping across his skin, pulling goosebumps to life in their wake at the mere thought of what was to come.
“‘Sup, slimes?” Miya practically purred, but somehow with malice at the forefront of the smooth sound of his voice.
“Yeah, yeah.” Reki slammed the tail of his board to the ground, relishing in the vibration under his foot and the familiar sound of wood scraping against concrete that brought him to a halt.
Langa’s powerslide brought him to a stop much more gracefully, but Reki cringed at the sound of wheels being worn down unevenly. Not that shaving the tail of his board off layer by layer was much better. Neither of those things mattered when Reki’s shed was fully stocked with everything needed to repair their boards. But mostly Langa’s board. Often.
Despite his insistence, Langa still couldn’t figure out that snowboards and skateboards weren’t the same thing. Or that they didn’t hold up in the same ways. Seriously, was it so hard to understand that snow and concrete were composed of completely different materials? That wheels and trucks and screws and bearings and pins couldn’t handle the same type of beatings as a piece of fiberglass? And honestly-
“Earth to Reki!”
The sharp snap of Miya’s hands meeting mere centimeters from Reki’s nose was somehow barely dampened by the gloves that must have been fused to his fingers by that point. Reki couldn’t recall ever seeing Miya without them. Well, maybe when they were at Miyako-jima. Had Miya worn his gloves to the beach? Surely not. But-
“Reki?”
Langa’s voice and the gentle nudge of his shoulder knocked the spiraling thoughts aside and unstuck Reki’s tongue from the roof of his mouth. He finally managed to take his leading foot off of his board and let the nose drop before stomping on the tail once more, effectively popping it into his waiting hand.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Reki didn’t mean to grumble as he shouldered past Langa and refrained from shoving Miya off the railing he was still perched upon. But apparently, his grumbling was hilarious, if the laughter that chased him through the door of the shop was anything to go by.
“You still butthurt about losing?” Miya’s taunts were followed by footsteps that had Reki completely ignoring the warm welcome offered to them by the cashier behind the desk at the front of the store. He breezed right past her with Miya on his heels and Langa probably not far behind.
Reki somehow managed not to throw his hands up in defense as he spun. His finger, however, had a mind of its own and settled mere centimeters from the tip of Miya’s nose. What pointing at him would do, Reki wasn't sure, but it felt like the position was supplying emphasis to back up his claims that, “You only beat me by half a second!”
Only part of Miya’s snide grin was blocked out by Reki’s hand between them. “More like half an hour.”
“You’re both exaggerating.” Langa’s tired sigh interrupted them before the bickering could reach Cherry and Joe levels of intensity. He appeared by Reki’s side, pushing his pointing hand back down to his side and shoving Miya back a few paces. “But Reki less so. It was three seconds.”
“Whatever.” Miya’s eyes rolled but his smirk didn’t waver. “Either way, I won. Now, let’s find you something to wear on Halloween night.”
Reki’s feet only followed Miya’s path once Langa’s insistent hand gave him a gentle shove forward, deeper into the store. A proper costume store, overflowing with makeup, masks, head-to-toe outfits, accessories, anything one might need to party in Shinjuku on Halloween night.
Or attend the costume party on Crazy Rock that was going down the same day, as Reki was planning to do.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Reki breathed as he followed Miya at a safe distance. The wall was covered from floor to ceiling in photos of complete costumes, from pirates to zombies to teddy bear onesies. Nothing Reki was too against wearing.
Langa’s shrug was audible, and it didn’t sound confident. “Maybe he’ll be nice.”
“Miya?” Reki scoffed, but quietly. Though, he wasn’t really sure why he was keeping the volume down when Miya knew he was a little shit. The conniving smirk that lived on his face was proof enough. “Nice? Really?”
Langa took a silent second to consider, but he didn’t need much more than that before agreeing. “Okay, maybe not.”
“Yeah, definitely not.”
There wasn’t much more to say as they came to the end of the first aisle and watched Miya continue to wander. There was no reason to follow him, really. It wasn’t like Reki would get a say in the area of the store they were searching. The stakes he’d agreed to said as much: winner picks the loser’s costume. So Reki and Langa lingered in the back corner, near a display of headbands, masks, gloves, and other fun things to try on while attempting to ignore the feeling of dread that came with knowing what Miya was capable of.
Reki and Langa wasted a few minutes doing just that, screwing around with the accessories and taking photos. The best one by far was Langa in a halo headband with white wings strapped to his shoulders that were definitely not on correctly, and Reki wearing sparkly red horns and a tail clipped to the back of his joggers.
“The horns look like they're part of your head,” Langa chuckled as he swiped through the photos. “Your hair totally covers the band.”
Reki zoomed in on Langa’s head in one of the pictures. “Well, the halo really suits you.”
“Yeah?” The swish of Langa’s hair sent a gentle breeze across Reki’s cheek. He turned his head to see Langa had done the same, putting their noses much too close together. Warmth spread across Reki’s cheeks as he realized what he’d said, how it could be taken. His feet stumbled back a few steps as cold rushed through his chest and his stomach lilted.
“I-” Great, as if he didn’t have enough things to be anxious about already. “I just mean that blue and silver go well together. Blue halo, silver hair. I- nope, that’s wrong.”
Langa nodded, just a slow dip of his chin that made his already small smile disappear entirely. For some reason. “Oh.”
“Oi! Slimes!” The voice of the person Reki had all but forgotten about pulled his attention from the nearly awkward banter with Langa. He followed the sound a few aisles down and found Miya’s glare. “Are you done playing dress-up?”
“We’re in a costume store!” Reki countered but ripped his headband off, suddenly feeling a bit silly about wearing devil horns in public. “What else are we supposed to do?”
“Well get over here, I found what I was looking for!” Miya beckoned along with his call then disappeared down an aisle.
A sigh dragged itself up through Reki’s chest, leaving his insides to clench in its wake, anticipating the worst. Fumbling fingers found the clasp and removed it from his waistband, leaving the barbed tail to swing lifelessly once back on the rack. It took some amount of effort to free Langa from the tangled elastic loops that made up the straps of the wings, but they managed with teamwork. Between the two of them, they somehow managed to completely forget about Langa’s halo until they were halfway across the store, leaving Langa to circle back to return it to its spot on the shelf.
Reki’s sneakers dragged him in the direction Miya had gone, which was infinitely more difficult without Langa at his side, urging him along. Trudging into the unknown had never been his favourite thing to do, especially when younger siblings were at the helm of whatever shipwreck he was going to stumble upon.
In that moment, Reki would have traded his surrogate brother out for any of his sisters. Seeing Miya’s head down an aisle of fluff and frills, hoop skirts, puffy sleeves, and lace made Reki itch. He brought his board in front of him, propping the deck against his thighs with the trucks towards him. His hands rested comfortably on the grip tape, allowing his thumbs to run along it in a steady pattern that gave him something to focus on apart from the burning desire to crawl inside his oversized hoodie and only come out when he’d been transported somewhere else. Anywhere else.
“What colour should we put you in?” Miya mused, running his hands along the rainbow of flouncy fabric as he wandered down the narrow aisle. “Pink? Purple? Or maybe we could go classy; black and white?”
Miya’s fingers latched around a hanger and he pulled a dress off the rack into view. It resembled something a server at a maid cafe would wear: a black poofy dress with white cuffed sleeves and layers upon layers of white tulle under the skirt. The top was textured with ruffles meant to emphasize a female chest and give the illusion of more bust. Of course there was a lacy apron with a tie to cinch the waist and a delicate white bow at the neck to keep things from being too scandalous.
Hideous.
Wrong.
So wrong.
“Just put the thing on and get out here, we have tables to serve!”
“It’s not that big a deal, and hey, the top makes your boobs look way bigger!”
“Come on, stop hiding away from the customers. They love you!”
“You look so pretty, why are you acting so shy?”
“No, you can’t work in the kitchen, you’re a server, go!”
“Reki? What’s wrong?”
Among the phantom voices echoing in his mind, Reki could just barely latch onto Langa’s. The world refocused just enough for him to recognize he was in the costume shop, standing down the aisle from Miya, who was still holding the maid dress.
“I-” The single syllable hitched in his throat, lending Reki the knowledge that he was unable to breathe. Maybe because the walls were closing in. Shoving the racks of clothing together, creating one chaotic mass of fabric and metal that Reki didn’t want to imagine being trapped in, let alone experience.
But it felt like he already was. The air was thick and heavy around him, suffocating. Maybe it had turned to water, maybe that was why he couldn’t breathe. Maybe that was why everything was blurry. Maybe… maybe…
Maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the beef.
No, that was a definite. He definitely should not have accepted the beef.
But now he was there, drowning in a store filled with frilly dresses and walls that moved and why wasn’t anyone else freaking out about the fact that the walls were moving and the store was flooded over their heads and-
“Reki.”
Langa’s hand on his shoulder was what put him over the edge. The tiniest bit of weight that exceeded the limit. Everything within him crumbled, yet he remained standing.
“I have to…” That was all that would come out, strangled and squeaking and probably too quiet for anyone’s ears but his own.
But telling the others that he had to leave was redundant anyway when they could plainly see him running for the door. The door that was morphing, twisting, would he even be able to leave through it? There was no time to consider his plan for finding the doorknob that seemed to be blinking in and out of existence before Reki crashed into the solid slab of wood. His fingers didn’t locate the knob, let alone turn it, but the building spit him out onto the sidewalk all the same. Maybe the latch had disappeared along with the doorknob.
But there was no time to consider the semantics behind his escape, he just needed to get away.
The alleyway between the costume shop and the next-door cafe was good enough. Quiet, save for the low hum of the condenser unit attached to one of the buildings. It was good white noise, and the concrete was comfortable enough to collapse upon. He spent enough time on cold hard ground after bailing out of tricks that he was used to it. It almost felt like it had some give, like an abnormally stiff tatami mat.
“It’s fine, you’re fine,” Reki managed in a not-at-all-convincing tone of voice after a gratingly painful inhale. “It’s just a dress. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“We have this fight every morning, can you just put the skirt on and go to school?”
“I really don’t see why you hate the uniform so much, every girl has to wear it.”
“You aren’t special. You don’t get to wear different clothes because you don’t want to.”
“You think all the other girls want to wear skirts every day? Probably not. Put it on.”
“The hell do you mean you don’t feel like a girl? You are one. Plain and simple.”
“I will not stand for this idiocy in my house. Stop bringing it up.”
“I TOLD YOU THAT’S NOT POSSIBLE! YOU ARE NOT A BOY AND THAT IS FINAL!”
“Reki,” Langa’s voice cut through the screaming, but not with ease, leaving the memories with jagged edges that seemed prepared to knit themselves back together at a moment's notice. “Reki, I need you to breathe.”
He was trying. Probably. He certainly wasn’t hiccuping and gasping and doing all of those painful things for fun. He wanted more than anything to take a deep, controlled breath and calm his lungs from their thumping frenzy.
“Can you even hear me?” Langa’s voice lowered, sounding somewhat panicked.
Reki could hear, he definitely could. Focusing on Langa’s voice was pulling the fragments of his memories apart, forcing them to tear further, to unwind, to relinquish their hold and turn mute. But he couldn’t predict the completely irregular pattern of his breath enough to attempt to reply.
“Okay,” A shuffle accompanied Langa’s quick breath and pressure appeared around Reki’s wrist. Slender fingers that had saved him from falling off of his board countless times were immediately recognizable. They turned his hand over before threading themselves between his curled, clenched fingers. Reki did his best to unfurl them, to properly hold Langa’s hand as Langa was his. He wasn’t sure how much progress he made in that department, but he tried. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”
It took all of his effort, but Reki followed Langa’s instruction. Not well, but well enough that Langa got the memo.
“Good, can you do it one more time so I know it’s not a fluke?”
Another squeeze, a bit longer and a bit harder, somehow easier.
“Good job. Okay, I know it’s hard, but I need you to try and take a deep breath for me.”
As if Reki wouldn’t have been doing that if he could. But still, he focused his energy into Langa’s wish and attempted to control his lungs.
But of course, he completely failed.
Three times his breath hitched, as though his lungs were stuttering, sputtering, trying to turn over and bring themselves to life.
Yet Langa praised him anyway. “Good, that was such a good try. Try again.”
The same song and dance was repeated for a length of time Reki couldn’t discern. How could he count the seconds, minutes, or hours when the only thing keeping him tethered to the present was Langa? The moment his mind wandered even a millimeter from the dulcet tones caressing his ears and the even pressure weighing down his hand, Reki slipped further down the impossibly steep embankment he was fighting to scramble up.
“You’re doing amazing, Reki, just keep going like that.”
Was he really? The fire in his chest did seem to be dying down, though the pressure wouldn’t leave. But that was to be expected. His muscles were trembling, but now from exhaustion rather than tension. His mind was quiet, or as quiet as it could be. His breath was smooth, flowing in and out as intended, with no hitches or skips or chokes, just the sting that would linger for a while after a breakdown of that calibre.
Maybe he was doing well.
But how was he supposed to open his eyes and face Langa after such a dramatic show? What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain what had just-?
“Hey, hey, keep breathing, it’s okay, you’re safe.”
Safe. Yes, Reki was safe. He was safe with Langa. Langa was a safe person. Someone Reki could be himself with. Someone he could tell anything.
Yet he’d still kept such a massive secret. One he wasn’t sure he was ready to reveal.
Maybe Langa wouldn’t ask. Maybe he would let Reki get up and walk away without a word. Maybe he wouldn’t question it if he never saw Reki again.
No.
No that definitely wouldn’t happen.
Was he ready?
No.
But Reki supposed he had to be.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was tired too. Crackly and creaky and thick feeling as the words made their way out.
“Why?” Reki could picture the tilt of Langa’s head, the confused glimmer in his eyes. Or he could see it, if he just opened his own.
“Because.” Reki took one final deep breath before pulling his hand from Langa’s and forcing himself to sit up. But he didn’t really need to see Langa’s expression. He knew it well enough. So he left his head to hang. “I totally just freaked out.”
Laughing it off didn’t work as Reki had hoped. Mostly because he didn’t laugh. Which was kind of integral to laughing something off.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“No.” That was the truth. But Reki found himself taking a stabilizing breath either way. Formulating a coherent thought wasn’t going to happen, but the words were rushing up his throat regardless and his tongue was defenseless to restrain them. “I can’t wear that dress. Any dress. But mostly that one. I can’t.”
Langa hummed in the slight pause caused by a shaky breath. “I mean, yeah it’ll be a bit embarrassing, but it’s just for a few hours. I’m sure-”
“No, I can’t.” The sting was spreading, up his throat, into his mind, poking at the backs of his eyes. Oh god, he was going to start crying, wasn’t he? Pathetic. Everything about him was pathetic. He was too emotional, too sensitive, too soft. A real man wouldn’t-
“Hey, keep breathing.” Only with Langa’s gentle reminder did Reki recognize that his chest was beginning to cave in once more. Maybe it would be better if his lungs were crushed by his ribs, unable to expand at all. If he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t talk, couldn’t make a fool of himself, couldn’t push everyone he loved away, couldn’t be abandoned. “Reki.”
Langa’s hands found Reki’s cheeks, tilting his head back to force eye contact. His fingers were cool against the flush that had certainly made a home for itself beneath Reki’s skin. It felt nice, the cold pressure of calloused hands holding him steady.
But seeing Langa’s face pinched with concern sent him over the edge. Guilt and shame raced to the forefront of everything, intensifying the burn, choking him, dissolving the already withering hold he’d had on his tears, sending them to soak Langa’s kind hands.
“I can’t wear anything like that again, I don’t want to.” The words were quiet, strangled, entirely unplanned. But with each one that worked its way out, the weight pressing down on him from every angle seemed to lessen, if just the tiniest bit. “In my last year of junior high, my class did a maid cafe for a festival and I had to wear a dress like that. And I had to wear the skirt uniform for so long and I hated it. I hated it so much and my dad just didn’t understand why and he made me wear it and he made me wear dresses and skirts and told me I would never be a man and I’m not one, I know I’m not but I feel like one and I don’t feel like a girl and I hate that I was born wrong but I can’t change it and I just-”
Only a gasp for air could stop the disjointed train of thought, and Langa took his chance.
“Slow down,” he almost cooed as his thumbs took up a pattern of gliding back and forth across Reki’s tear-stained cheeks. “Take a breath.”
“I can’t.” The shake of Reki’s head was reduced to something that probably looked like a tremble, the movement almost completely cut off by Langa’s hands. “I can’t do it. I can’t and I don’t want to and I won’t. I can’t go back to dressing like that. Not even for a night. Not even for a joke. I’m not a girl. I was never a girl. I don’t want to be a girl. And I know that that’s weird and stupid and doesn’t make sense and I get it if you don’t want to be around me because who would? Who would want to be-?”
At first, Reki thought that what cut him off was one of Langa’s hands over his mouth. But his hands couldn’t be so soft, not after countless bails onto concrete. A couple of blinks cleared Reki’s vision just enough to see blue. Blurry, beautiful, familiar blue. The blue Reki had seen every day for over a year with very few exceptions. The blue that matched the sky and the ocean and never failed to make him smile. Langa blue. His favourite shade.
The fact that that shade was filling his vision in that moment meant Langa was close. Too close to see anything clearly. Closer than they’d ever been before. And only when distance was added, when Langa was pulling away and the warmth and pressure were leaving his lips, did Reki’s brain finally catch up.
“You kissed me.”
Langa’s face receded enough that he was in focus by the time those pitiful words left Reki in a quiet huff. The slightest of smirks tugged at the corner of Langa’s lips, the lips that had just been pressed against Reki’s.
What the hell?
“I needed you to stop talking for a second,” Langa explained, his hands still holding Reki’s face hostage. “I need you to listen to me.”
Even if Reki had a comeback, it wouldn’t have come out. His mind was too frozen, too stuck on the fact that his best friend had just kissed him.
“You were talking really fast so I didn’t get everything. But I think you were trying to tell me you’re trans. Is that right?”
Something like a nod occurred, but it was far less smooth than the usual dip of Reki’s chin tended to be.
“And people haven’t respected you for it in the past.”
Somehow, the shake of his head was easier.
“I’m sorry you felt like you had to tell me before you were ready. And I’m so sorry people can be so cruel. Especially your dad. People are awful. But I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I love you for you, Reki. I love you for who you are, not what your body looks like. You’re incredible, and that doesn’t change because I found out that some assumptions I had were wrong. Those assumptions weren't important anyway. They don’t have anything to do with who you are as a person. My favourite person.”
“Did…?” If Reki’s mind had been frozen before, now it was on fire. Short-circuiting, sparks popping, was there smoke coming out of his ears? “Did you just say you love me?”
“I did.” Langa nodded, confident and calm. “I do. I have for a long time.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” A halfhearted punch to Langa’s sternum and a disgustingly wet chuckle accented Reki’s demand.
A chuckle that Langa matched, but much more attractively. Like all things Langa ever did. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because!” Reki finally tugged his head out of Langa’s grasp and crossed his arms. He wasn’t pouting, but he was close. “Why would you ever like me? You’re all pretty and perfect, Prince Hasegawa. And you know… the whole… not being a real guy thing…”
“You are a real guy.” Langa’s assurance came with more touch, but that time, it was just a gentle finger to pick up Reki’s drooping chin. “Your body doesn’t mean anything.”
Pressure. More pressure. But from the inside. Reki’s heart felt as though it was swelling, stuffed full of Langa’s words and assurances, straining against its seams from the warmth. “You mean that?”
“I do.” The eye contact that came with the reply meant it was the truth. “Trans men are men. Trans women are women. Non-binary people exist. People who say otherwise are assholes. That’s what I was always taught.”
The prospect of being taught such tolerant views piqued Reki’s interest. “Is it different in Canada?”
Langa’s head bobbled in consideration. “Somewhat. There are protective laws and stuff, and I think gender-affirming medical care might be more accessible? But people can still be awful. Nowhere is perfect.”
“But you were taught about trans stuff?”
“One of my cousins transitioned when I was young. But old enough to remember her before her name was Lily. I was confused, so my parents taught me. And then I took a gender studies class in high school and learned more. I don’t really know what it’s like here, but I know I don’t see a lot of representation day to day.”
“I found out what trans meant on the internet.” Reki pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to ignore the feeling of his binder cutting into his shoulders as they hunched up in their protective stance. “I had weird feelings my whole life. I hated wearing skirts to school, I hated my long hair, I hated being compared to the other girls, or being compared to the boys in my classes.
“Things got really bad when I was a teenager. I hated my chest, I still do, more than anything. I started googling things because whenever I brought it up to my parents, my dad would get mad. My mom didn’t get it, and she would try and tell me that all teenage girls feel weird when their bodies change. So I went online and found some forums where trans people talked about their experiences. I related to all of them. Did some more research and figured out that was what I was feeling.
“I told my parents about it and my dad completely blew up, telling me it wasn’t possible, that I would always be a girl, a whole bunch of other gross things. My mom didn’t say anything at the time, but came to me later and told me it was better I didn’t bring things like that up.
“When she finally divorced him, she did her own research. She helped me learn about safe binding, and even got me on testosterone. She explained everything to the girls so I wouldn’t have to, and they caught on so quick. Things are okay now, but at the beginning… they just weren’t.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Your dad sounds like a horrible person.”
Reki couldn’t help but laugh at the bluntness of Langa’s statement. “He wasn’t always, but yeah, I don’t miss him.”
“I’m glad.”
The conversation died there. Silence overtook the minimal space between them, and Reki felt his cheeks growing warmer, somehow.
“I uh- I guess we need to go back in there at some point.” After running away as dramatically as he had, Reki wanted to do nothing less than face Miya in the aisle of hellish frills and fluff, but he'd lost track of his board in all the chaos. It was probably still inside the shop. With Miya.
“I guess so.” Langa sighed his agreement. “What do you want to tell Miya?”
“Preferably nothing. But that’s not really an option, is it?”
“Probably not.” Langa shook his head with a soft smile. A beautiful soft smile. One Reki would have loved to kiss again. But that would be weird, wouldn’t it? “We can tell him to pick anything but a dress. Just because the stakes were him picking your Halloween costume doesn’t mean you can’t have boundaries.”
“Yeah, but that’s not really how beefs work,” Reki huffed and hauled himself to his feet to shake out the jittery tension that was still settled over his body. “Shadow set my board on fire one time after I lost to him.”
Langa looked nothing short of horrified when he rose to meet Reki. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Reki’s smirk was forced, but not completely fabricated. “As long as it’s not the maid dress, I can deal with it. Like you said, it’s only a few hours. I just got freaked out. It’ll suck, but it’s fine.”
Langa caught Reki’s hand before he could turn and exit the alley. “Are you sure?”
“No,” Reki admitted with a shake of his head. “I’m definitely going to lose my dignity when I go in there and beg him not to put me in the maid dress. But even if he does, I’ve dealt with worse. And besides, I want to get this over with so we can talk about other things.”
“Other things?”
“The fact that we’ve apparently been in love for ‘a long time’ but neither of us said anything until now?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
“I think so. Let’s go.”
When Reki turned that time, Langa just followed. Their hands were still connected by the time they reached the shop’s door, but Reki gave into his uncertainty and pulled away as they stepped over the threshold.
The store was entirely as it had been when they first walked in: not flooded, no moving walls, nothing out of place. Of course. He must have been panicking hard, to convince himself that any of those things had been true.
“You’re back,” Miya called from a nearby aisle, a different one that didn't look to house any clothes a lolita model might be interested in. He was waving happily but with some restraint. The mischief was completely gone from his smirk, and there was a seriousness to his eyes that Reki rarely saw. But that didn’t stop his taunting. “I have your boards, since you decided to just leave them in here!”
“Okay, look,” Reki started with no idea of where his words would take him as he approached Miya. “I know you won. I know I said you could pick whatever you wanted. But please, not the maid dress. Literally anything else but that.”
“Oh shut up.” Miya waved him off with one hand, keeping the other firmly behind his back. “You don’t have to beg.”
“Huh?” Reki felt his head flinch back with the force of his surprise. “That was suspiciously easy.”
“Well.” Miya’s smirk crept back onto his face, the one that told Reki he was up to no good. “While you two were gone, I found something even better.”
“Oh god…” Reki groaned and fell back into Langa, who caught him easily despite the lack of warning.
“Don’t be like that,” Miya spat with distaste as Langa forced Reki back up to his feet. “I’m not that evil. If you don’t want to wear a dress, fine. But we’re racing again on Halloween night. And you’re going to wear this.”
From behind his back, Miya produced a box. For a moment, Reki just stared at it, attempting to comprehend exactly what he was looking at. But once it sunk in, a laugh bubbled up through his chest, popping at the top of his throat and tugging a grin out of his confused features.
“Oh, you are so on!”
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
“Wow…” Joe very obviously had to stifle his laughter as he skated up to Reki, seeing his costume in person for the first time. “Looking good, kid!”
“Thank you!” Reki struck a pose, grinning despite the fact that he was almost certain nobody could see his face through the pitiful excuse for a window. The nylon of the costume was loud as he moved, but not nearly as annoying as the fan that was constantly pumping air, keeping the T-rex suit inflated around him. “I think it suits me.”
“I think so too.” Langa’s quiet voice somehow fought its way through the layers of noise and his face became somewhat visible through the little window Reki was trying not to fog up. “But I do miss seeing your face.”
One thing Reki was grateful for was the fact that his constant blushing was hidden. Langa seemed to know exactly what to say to turn him red, and also seemed to really enjoy it. “You can see it after I win this beef.”
“I’d better.”
Kissing through the vinyl window was definitely not preferable, but it earned a swoon from Joe and a sound of disgust from Shadow, who Reki hadn’t yet seen, but he knew that gag anywhere.
“You two are so cute.” Joe made a big enough show of wiping away what was probably a fake tear so that Reki could make it out through his distorted vision.
“Nobody wants to see the PDA,” Shadow grumbled, but stayed out of Reki’s field of view.
“You’re sure it's safe to race dressed like that?” Cherry was somewhere too, apparently. Man, the costume really made it hard to see people. Especially in the dark. “Your vision will be severely impacted.”
“I know this course like the back of my hand,” Reki held his nose in the air, hoping the floppy head of the T-rex was doing the same. “I could skate it blindfolded.”
“Don’t give me any ideas.” Miya’s voice chimed from somewhere behind Reki. He spun, locating his opponent quickly due to the bright green of his favourite hoodie. Of course he wouldn’t even wear a costume. “I might just change the stakes if you’re too confident.”
“Go for it!” Reki crossed his arms as best he could, but the short sleeves and air circulation certainly made it a challenge. “Blindfolded beef sounds like it could catch on.”
“Don’t get too cocky,” Langa chuckled. “I don’t want any of our dates to take place in a hospital.”
“But that could be romantic,” Reki defended, with absolutely no idea how he would back up the claim.
Luckily, he didn’t have to. A voice crackled to life over the PA system, announcing that Reki and Miya’s race was to start in two minutes.
“Good luck, you two!” Joe called and the sound of many sets of wheels hitting the ground followed. “We’ll see you at the finish line!”
“Good luck,” Langa wrapped an arm around Reki’s shoulders and might have attempted to place a kiss on his temple, but all Reki felt was the nylon of his costume being pressed into the side of his face. “See you soon.”
Miya dropped his own board and kicked off in the direction of the start line. “Let’s go, slime!”
Reki took a second to find his board, but managed to get it flipped over and under his feet with ease. “Bring it!”