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Langa feels like biting his nails, which is something he never does, but the urge is there. The brisk air of the night cools his reddened cheeks—Langa touches them to see if they still resemble lava. They do.
Oh my god, he's going to need to pray a whole lot tonight for Reki to don't read too much into his reaction. Of course his mom is not helping, either.
It was just an innocent picture, an innocent kiss, just for the fun of the picture. Langa probably shouldn't read too much into it—Reki was most likely just mimicking his mom to tease Langa.
Then why is Langa reacting this way?
He needs to pull himself together or else Reki will notice—like he always does.
Dammit, why is his skin so pale? It's easier to distinguish when he blushes, Miya tells him all the time.
Langa sighs.
All in all, it was a good birthday. The cake was good, his mom was smiling all night, and the fact that she and Reki got along really well made Langa happy—it makes him happy even now that the party is over.
The teasing he's going to suffer once Reki leaves—he's not really looking forward to it.
But for now, Reki is still here.
He's always near, and Langa knows what it feels like when he's not. He doesn't want to feel like that ever again.
The days they spent without talking had Langa feeling hollow, but things are good between them now. Very good, actually, and that fact has Langa's expectations skyrocketing.
He knows he shouldn't get his hopes up—Langa doesn't even know if Reki likes boys, let alone himself. But every time Reki puts an arm around his shoulders, or comes in real close to show Langa some video on his phone—well, how can Langa react any differently?
He huffs despairingly.
If only Okinawa weren't so fucking warm, then he could blame his pink cheeks on the cold weather. Langa turns to the balcony door—the laughter leaking from the living room wraps around his heart so pleasantly. Langa wouldn't mind if that feeling replaced the embarrassment.
His mom is probably going to frame that picture because she's a demon. And if he's being honest, he'll probably ask for a copy. Most definitely.
Wow, if he's having a breakdown about Reki kissing his cheek, then Langa really is being a melodramatic teenager.
"Oh, my fucking God," Langa leans on the railing, cursing in English, and drops his burning face in his hands. "You need to control yourself, Langa. He's going to fucking notice," he mumbles to himself.
"Are you talking to yourself?"
Langa jumps three feet in the air at the sound of that voice. He turns to the door a sees Reki standing there—the light behind him illuminating his red hair like a halo of ardent flames in the darkness of the balcony.
"Man, I really need to learn English just so I can understand your endless mumbling," Reki smiles crookedly at him. It makes Langa's insides sing.
Reki goes to lean on the railing, on Langa's left, exhaling a heavy breath while looking down onto the street below.
"Did you have fun?" he asks.
Langa smiles, forcing himself to look at the sky, because if he keeps looking into those amber eyes his brain might act on impulse alone. "Yeah, I really did."
Reki clears his throat, prompting Langa to look back at him, messing up Langa's plans to avoid his gaze.
"I'm glad," Reki squirms, grabbing the railing and balancing his weight back and forth. "You know, your mom and I—well, except for the balloons, those were a mess—but I guess Miya helped me with that…" he trails off, turning around to lean back against the railing—scratching the back of his neck.
"That's the important thing. I mean, it really would've sucked if you—but I guess you said you did, so… that's—that's good," Langa coughs into his fist—dropping his arms to the sides, then starts playing with the strings of his hoodie.
The silence stretches for a couple of minutes until Reki surprises Langa.
"I actually have a gift for you," Reki says, dropping one of the strings and reaching inside the kangaroo front pocket of his hoodie.
"But you already gave me a gift," Langa frowns at him.
Reki eyes him swiftly.
If the lights and shadows of the night weren't so treacherous, and Langa could clearly see, he'd swear that right now Reki's cheeks are tinted pink.
"Yeah, no. I mean, the board is not just from me, Cherry and Miya helped," his other hand fiddles with his blue headband, "as well as Shadow and Joe. That gift is from all of us."
"Oh."
"Yeah…" Reiki's orange eyes blink slowly—his gaze meeting Langa's half-lidded blue stare, provoking Langa's fists to clench on the railing. He'll never know how to describe those eyes, every word he can think of is just not enough.
"Happy birthday, Langa," Reki pulls out a small light-blue box out of the pocket, offering the gift to Langa with a closed-lip smile, looking so soft that Langa wonders if his knees will give out any second.
Langa takes the tiny box carefully asking, "what is it?" He asks, turning it over delicately in his hands.
"Um, just—something I wanted to give you," Reki fiddles with his headband again. "I've had this for a while, actually… um, remember that day we skated at night? And how we said we wanted to skate for infinity?" He asks, soflty.
Langa notices a hint of nervousness in his tone.
"I remember," Langa answers.
"Well, our fig—that night, in the rain, put a lot of things in perspective for me and…" Reki trails of, switching his weight from foot to foot—playing with the edge of his hoodie.
"I'm sorry," Langa whispers—head low, eyes glued on the blue box. "I never should've—"
"Langa," Reki starts, holding Langa's hands, stopping his trembling fingers. Langa swallows heavily at the difference in skin tone. "Hey, we're past that, don't worry about that anymore," he says, rubbing his calloused fingers over Langa's knuckles.
"Look at me," Reki squeezes his hands. Langa's breath hitches, he orders his heart rate to slow the fuck down but it refuses. Taking a deep breath, Langa raises his head—his blue eyes instantly meeting Reki's.
Whether he wants to or not, Langa displays the full spectrum of his feelings all over his pale features, like a bright giant billboard in the center of a crowded city, just for Reki to notice.
"I told you, we're fine, alright? I was also at fault. I didn't want to be left behind," he admits, breaking his gaze away.
"You're the whole reason why I skate at all," Langa rushes, reassuring him. "Reki, my love… of skateboarding, is because of you," Langa pours his heart out into the sentiment—mentally slapping the shit out of himself for sounding so cheesy.
How can he be so stupid? It would've been less obvious to just kiss Reki. Fuck.
Reki's eyes widen and a glorious shade of pink takes over his cheeks, Langa is sure it's not a trick of the lights this time. He clears his throat again, letting go of Langa's hands—taking off his headband and messing up his hair even more. Langa is incapable of looking away, even if he misses the contact of Reki's hands.
"Well, open it," Reki motions to the box.
"Right," slowly, Langa undoes the small ribbon surrounding the box—hanging it on the railing—and opening the lid.
Langa's breathing stops, he looks at the inside for the longest time—his eyes like saucers and the heat oh his face enhancing with each minute it passes. For anybody else, this wouldn't make sense, but having that conversation so present, and the meaning behind the trinket—that's something Langa instantly understands.
The fact that Reki is gifting him this…
A small disbelieving laugh escapes his lips as Langa gingerly pulls the key chain out of the box. It's heavy but small, definitely custom made.
"I know it's not much but—"
"Reki," Langa's voice doesn't waver. He looks up towards his favorite pair of eyes—smiling so big his face hurts. "I love it, thank you."
Reki laughs, relieved. "Good, I'm glad," he says, biting his lip to stop his smile from growing bigger as Langa's eyes focus on the gift.
"I sure hope Miya doesn't own the matching part," Langa jokes, running his thumb over the horizontal S shape of the key chain—the metallic red color shimmering under the balcony light like a warm torch.
Reki laughs, the sound like a forbidden song not many are fortune enough to appreciate, filling Langa's chest with an intense feeling of adoration for the person standing in front of him. "No, he actually thought it was corny, and ridiculous."
Langa doesn't realize how close they're standing until Reki looks down, looking for his keys in his pocket, and Langa gets a whiff of his shampoo—strawberries and cherries. Langa smiles, it must be their sister's.
Reki straightens, coming closer and presenting the matching key chain. Reki gently grabs his hand, bringing the key chains close together. His S is light blue, metallic as well, looking almost silver glinting under the lights.
They both look up at the same time. The silence stretches, their proximity suffocating Langa in the most satisfying way—he wants to close the gap so badly.
"Langa," Reki starts, positioning the key chains in place, without snapping them together yet. His voice echoing in Langa's ears, not quite whispering but softly enough that forces Langa to lean in closer.
"Yeah?" Langa asks—his insides on fire and praying for his knees to not give out.
"I want to retract myself, about what I said before."
"Before?" Langa's eyebrows furrow at Reki, clearly not following.
Reki's hand twitches. If he can feel that slight movement, then surely Reki can feel how Langa's own hands tremble.
"When we had our fight, I—said that we weren't a good match, anymore… but I didn't mean that," Reki squeezes his hand—Langa's pulse jack-hammering in his ears.
"I know you didn't," Langa forces the reassurance past his dried throat.
"I actually think the opposite," Reki steps impossibly closer, finally snapping the key chains together, forming a bi-colored infinity sign—shining bright into the night. Langa goes back to look into his eyes, not wanting to look anywhere else for the rest of his life.
"I think we're a perfect match," Reki whispers.
Langa's knees tremble dangerously, as well as his fingers. He knows his face is red, but he can't look away.
"I think we're a perfect match, too," Langa whispers back, gaze dropping to the lower part of Reki's face, admiring those tantalizing lips that have haunted his every dream since he met Reki—with the fiery hair, wonderful personality and an unmatched passion for skating.
Said lips stretch into a gentle smile, "Yeah?" Reki asks, his raspy voice sending a chill down Langa's spine.
Langa laughs softly into the darkness of the night, "absolutely."
Licking his lips unconsciously, Langa's own hand hesitantly rises to touch Reki's hair, brushing his bangs away from his handsome face.
"Langa?" Reki asks, a few measly inches away from Langa's own face.
"Yes, Reki?" His blue eyes go back to Reki's mouth, like a moth a the brightest, hottest, biggest flame to ever grace Langa's life.
"Can I kiss you?"
Instead of answering, Langa eagerly yet smoothly closes the gap between them. His own hands going straight to the back of Reki's head, immediately burying his long fingers between soft-red curly hair. Dropping the joint key chains to the floor, Reki's right hand travels to Langa's burning cheek, while the other settles on his hip, squeezing gently.
Reki's thumb brushes his cheekbone back and forth, his lips coaxing Langa's into a slow, maddening pace. The juxtaposition of his heartbeat rivaling the speed of light, and the careful, slow movements of his lips against Reki's, makes Langa think he's actually dead and in heaven—experiencing his wildest dreams for being such a good Christian.
Reki cranes his head, switching their angles and deepening the kiss. His tongue tentatively touching Langa's bottom lip. He gasps, pulling at Reki's hair unintentionally, earning a muffled soft groan from Reki.
Langa's knees almost give out at the sound, which causes Reki to push Langa against the railing, slowly caging him in. With both of Reki's hands on Langa's hips, Langa tightens his arms around Reki's shoulders—opening his mouth for Reki's tongue to meet his.
He's not a very good Christian after all—if his reaction to their positioning is anything to be considered.
Their tongues dance back and forth, Langa moans softly when Reki bites his bottom lip, prompting Reki to move and wrap his arms around Langa's waist, bringing them closer. Chest to chest, Langa is able to feel Reki's heartbeat against his own—fast, just like how it feels when they're skating down the hill together, sharing glances here and there.
God, Langa could live in this moment forever.
They drift apart for air, both they're breathing ragged and deep. Langa admires the way Reki's lips look—swollen, red and debauched. He's probably the same, or worse.
"Shit," Langa can't stop the word from coming out.
"What? Something wrong?" Reki asks, voice rough.
"Yes," Langa says. Reki goes to pull away but Langa stops him firmly, looking into his eyes. "Why are we stopping?"
This time, Reki closes the gap between them, pushing Langa against the railing, kissing him with more fervor. No more careful and slow, this kiss is eager and hot. Langa instantly bringing their tongues together, moaning at the feel of their lips locking in an insatiable embrace. With the velvety feeling of Reki's lips coating in their spit, Langa smooths down his hands towards Reki's arms, interlocking his fingers at Reki's lower back.
Reki interrupts their heated kiss to drop a loud wet kiss on the corner of Langa's mouth. Langa's blush intensifies at the thought of his mom hearing their make-out session.
"I wanted to do that since forever," Reki admits, kissing his cheek and moving to his ear—kissing his way down to the edge of his jaw. "Langa," he sighs heavily, squeezing Langa's waist once again.
Langa is going to drop dead if Reki keeps behaving this way, it might be too much for him to handle.
"You've been driving me crazy this whole time," Reki kisses his neck, his unyielding mouth pulling Langa apart in more ways than one.
"Me? I'm the one holding for dear life here," Langa swallows, draining his neck towards the night sky, giving rely more room to continue his ministrations.
Unfortunately, his English has Reki leaning back to frown at Langa. "What?"
"I mean I feel the same way, about you."
He'll never get used to the way Reki smiles at him. It makes his heart stop—feeling more alive than he has been.
"Thinking back, it seems silly how nervous I was," one of his hands brushes Langa's hair from his face, locking it behind his burning ear, "Cherry kept telling me to stop being a moody teenager and get on with it."
Langa hums, rubbing his hands up and down Reki's back, "He was probably the one who confessed to Joe, then."
"Yeah, that's what Miya said."
Langa sighs pleasantly, hugging Reki tight—his face against Reki's warm chest—inhaling his scent.
"Reki?" Langa mumbles against the hoodie.
Reki hums inquiringly, hugging back and caressing his lower back, fingers running soothingly through Langa's long hair.
"Are you my boyfriend?" Langa's face is scalding.
"Even better," Reki says, motioning Langa to look at him. "We're soulmates."
Langa stays silent for a moment, not straying his eyes away from Reki's, then bursts out laughing. Going back to hide his face in Reki's chest, Langa trembles with laughter, gasping against Reki.
Langa pulls back, both hands on his mouth, trying to stop the giggles. Reki crosses his arms, looking to the side, incapable of suppressing an amused smile.
"Reki, that was so cheesy! Miya will destroy you," Langa laughs, uncrossing Reki's arms.
"What? We are!" He says, a laugh breaking his 'angry' statement. Reki sighs, finally laughing at his words, pulling Langa close with a hug and kissing the side of his head.
"Yes, Langa, I'm your boyfriend."
Langa smiles against Reki's neck, squeezing tighter. "I won't tell Miya."
"Thank you," Reki pinches Langa's waist playfully. "I like you, a lot, Langa."
Langa's head comes up, his hands settling on Reki's face—taking a moment to admire the beautiful and undeniably attractive features of his boyfriend. "I like you too, Reki, more thank you could ever imagine."
"Now who's being cheesy," Reki smirks, laughing softly at Langa.
"Shut up," Langa whispers, and without waiting, he shuts Reki up himself.