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It started with a fall.
Nothing dramatic. No explosion of sparks or slow-mo wipeout. Just a sharp turn Reki misjudged, wheels catching the corner too hard. His board shot out from under him, and he went down. Elbow first, then ribs. Pain flared bright, but he didn’t cry out. Just gritted his teeth and laughed it off like it was nothing.
“Dude,” someone from the crowd called, “you good?”
“Yeah!” Reki shouted, pushing himself up. His arm ached like hell, but he forced a grin. “Just warming up.”
Langa wasn’t there that night. He was supposed to be, they’d talked about hitting the S together, but Langa had some late family dinner. Reki went anyway. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal.
That was lie number one.
By the time he got home, his elbow was swollen and purple. Probably not broken, but definitely wrecked. He didn’t tell anyone.
The next morning, he wrapped it tight, threw on a hoodie, and skated to school like nothing happened. His arm throbbed every time he pushed off, but he told himself he could deal.
That was lie number two.
“You sure you’re okay?” Langa asked three days later.
They were hanging out behind the school after class, boards resting at their feet. Langa sat beside him on the curb, eyes narrowed, like he was reading something Reki wasn’t saying.
Reki shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re skating weird.”
“I am not skating weird.”
“You are,” Langa said, annoyingly calm. “You’re not using your right arm to balance when you land tricks.”
Reki barked a laugh. “Okay, detective. Maybe I’m trying something new.”
Langa didn’t smile.
“Seriously,” Reki said, more defensive than he meant to be. “It’s not a big deal.”
That was lie number three.
The thing about hurting yourself and not resting? You get worse.
A week later, his arm was shot. His balance was off. His tricks were sloppy. And every time he bailed, which was more and more often, his frustration lit up like a fuse.
He stopped texting Langa back as fast. Started skating late at night again, alone. Even when he was exhausted. Even when it felt like his bones were turning to sand.
He couldn’t stop.
If he stopped, the thoughts caught up.
You’re falling behind.
He’s better than you.
You’re not enough.
Not even close.
One night, he came home bleeding.
He’d tried to grind a rail he had no business attempting, and the landing ate him alive. He limped back to his house just past midnight, limping, hoodie ripped, palms raw and bloody. The adrenaline had long since worn off. He dropped his board at the door and stared at his reflection in the hallway mirror.
Red-eyed. Filthy. Broken.
He looked like someone who’d given up. He hated it.
He didn’t cry.
But he wanted to.
“Reki.”
He froze.
Langa stood in the dark hallway, wearing pajama pants and a horrified expression. His hair was rumpled, eyes wide.
Reki’s heart dropped into his stomach. “What- what are you doing here?”
“Your mom let me in,” Langa said, voice low. “She said you weren’t answering your phone. That you’ve been… off.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not fine,” Langa said, stepping closer. “What happened to you?”
Reki turned away. “Skated too hard. Whatever. I’m going to bed.”
“You’re hurt.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Then why are you lying to me?”
The words hit harder than the fall did. Reki’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Langa’s voice stayed quiet, but it cracked a little. “You think I don’t notice when you pull away? When you stop talking to me? I’m not stupid, Reki.”
“I never said you were.”
“You don’t have to,” Langa said. “You just… act like you don’t need anyone.”
That stung. Because it wasn’t true. Not even a little.
He needed Langa like gravity. Like air.
That’s why it hurt so much to feel like he was losing him again, like he was messing up the one thing that mattered.
“I’m trying,” Reki said, his voice barely holding together. “I’m trying to be better. Stronger. So I don’t drag you down again.”
“You never dragged me down.”
“You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Reki’s shoulders shook.
He didn’t mean to. He wasn’t trying to make a scene. But the weight of everything, the pain, the pressure, the fear. It was too much.
He sank down to the floor, back against the wall, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. His breath hitched.
“I’m scared,” he said.
Langa sat down beside him.
“Of what?” he asked gently.
Reki didn’t look at him. “Of not being enough. Of being the reason everything breaks. Of not being able to keep up. I thought if I just worked harder, I could fix it. Be good again. Be… worth it.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Langa said, “You already are.”
Reki looked over, eyes shining.
“You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove anything to me,” Langa said. “I like skating with you. Because it’s you. Not because you land the best tricks.”
Reki blinked hard. “That’s really cheesy, man.”
“I don’t care,” Langa said, smiling faintly. “It’s true.”
Langa didn’t leave.
He stayed right there on the floor with Reki, legs crossed, back against the same wall. They didn’t talk for a while. Reki’s heart was still racing, like his body hadn’t gotten the memo that the fall was over, the crash done.
And Langa… Langa just existed next to him. Calm. Unshaken.
He was always like that, wasn’t he? Snow-blue eyes, steady hands, soft voice that never rose unless something really mattered. It used to make Reki jealous, how composed he seemed. Now it just made him feel safe.
“I’m sorry,” Reki mumbled.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
“That’s too big,” Langa said. “Pick something smaller.”
Reki huffed a dry laugh. “Fine. Sorry I lied about being okay.”
Langa nodded. “Better.”
They sat in silence again.
“Also,” Reki said after a beat, “sorry I ghosted you.”
“That sucked.”
“Yeah.”
“But I forgive you.”
Reki blinked. “That easy?”
“You’re not easy to give up on.”
Reki didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. His throat was tight again, and he was sick of crying, so he just nodded.
Langa helped him bandage his hands.
He insisted on it, actually. Went to Reki’s tiny bathroom, rummaged through the first aid box like he knew exactly where everything was (he probably did, he’d been over a hundred times), then came back and sat on the edge of the bed with the gauze in his lap.
“Give me your hands.”
“They’re gross.”
“So?”
Reki held them out.
Langa worked in silence, gentle but sure. He cleaned the gravel out with saline, dabbed on ointment, then wrapped the raw skin with practiced care. His fingers brushed Reki’s wrists, warm and steady, and Reki swore his heartbeat jumped every time.
“You do this a lot, huh?” Reki asked, trying to sound casual.
“Mom taught me,” Langa said. “I fell a lot when I was learning. Snowboarding, I mean.”
“You’re like, weirdly good at this.”
“I practice on myself.”
Reki smiled, tired but real. “You’re such a nerd.”
“You’re worse.”
Reki snorted. “Fair.”
When Langa finished, he didn’t pull away right away. His hands lingered around Reki’s, thumbs brushing lightly over the bandages. The air shifted. Not awkward, just… full. Like something unsaid was sitting between them, loud and obvious.
“Reki.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t scare me like that again.”
Reki’s eyes dropped. “I’ll try not to.”
“No. Don’t.”
Reki looked up.
Langa’s face wasn’t angry, just serious. Too serious for someone who usually talked like every sentence was a question.
“I know you want to get better,” Langa said. “But hurting yourself isn’t the way.”
Reki swallowed. “It felt like the only way.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is?”
Langa paused. “Letting me help.”
Reki hated how much that hit. Like, deep down hit. Because he wanted that. He wanted someone who wouldn’t just skate ahead, but stop and turn back and wait. Someone who didn’t see him as a project, or a rival, but a person worth standing next to, even when he was falling apart.
And that’s what Langa was doing. Again. Still.
Reki felt his eyes sting. “Why do you care so much?”
Langa tilted his head, like it was the dumbest question in the world. “Because I-”
He stopped.
Reki blinked. “Because you what?”
Langa bit his lip. His fingers twitched where they were still resting over Reki’s hands.
“Because I like you,” he said. Quiet. Sure. No drama.
Reki’s brain short-circuited.
“You- wait—like, like like?”
Langa’s ears turned red. “Yeah.”
Reki opened his mouth. Closed it. Reopened it.
“Okay, well, uh. That’s—cool. Um.”
“I didn’t say it so you’d freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out.”
“You’re freaking out.”
Reki groaned and covered his face. “I just- why now?”
“Because I thought maybe you needed to hear it.”
Reki peeked through his fingers. “You’re such a sap.”
“I am not,” Langa said, visibly offended.
“You are literally the sappiest sap to ever-”
Langa tackled him with a pillow. Reki yelped, wrestled him back, and for a second the weight of everything lifted. The pressure, the fear, the self-hate. It didn’t vanish, not magically. But it got quieter.
Because Langa was still there.
Still in his corner.
Still not giving up.
Later, after things calmed down and the lights were low, Reki lay on his side, head propped on his arm. Langa sat next to him, fiddling with a tech deck on Reki’s desk.
“You ever get scared?” Reki asked suddenly.
Langa didn’t look up. “Of what?”
“Being bad at something. Not good enough.”
Langa set the toy down. “Yeah.”
Reki waited.
“When I started skating,” Langa said. “I didn’t know how to fall right. It hurt. A lot. And I thought… maybe I’d never get it. Maybe I’d just suck forever.”
Reki snorted. “You did not suck.”
“I did,” Langa said, smiling. “At first. You just didn’t see it.”
Reki raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying I inspired you?”
“You taught me,” Langa said. “More than anyone.”
That shut Reki up real fast.
“You’re the reason I love skating,” Langa added, soft. “So no matter how many times you fall, or how much it hurts… I’m not going anywhere.”
Reki didn’t sleep much that night. Not because he couldn’t, but because Langa stayed.
He’d thought maybe Langa would leave after the whole emotional rollercoaster they just crashed off of. But instead, he just kicked off his slippers, climbed onto the bed like it was the most normal thing in the world, and flopped onto his back with a sigh.
Reki stared.
“You?- you’re staying?”
Langa looked at him. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No, I—” Reki tugged at his hoodie strings. “Just didn’t think you’d wanna hang out with someone who had a meltdown in the hallway.”
“You’re my favorite person,” Langa said like it was just a fact. “You could meltdown on me every hallway and I’d still wanna hang out.”
Reki’s brain promptly short-circuited again.
They laid there in the dark, shoulder to shoulder. Neither of them said much. Every so often Reki would glance over, and Langa would already be looking at him, like they were tuned into the same unspoken frequency.
And eventually, Reki whispered, “You meant it, right?”
Langa shifted. “Meant what?”
“That you… like me.”
Langa turned to face him fully. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Cool. Just checking.”
Reki bit his lip. His cheeks were burning. He could feel it in his chest, this buzzing, fluttery thing trying to break out.
“You don’t have to say anything back,” Langa added softly.
“I want to,” Reki said. “I just… suck at it.”
“Try anyway.”
Reki hesitated. Then sat up, hair a mess, voice a little shaky.
“I like you too, alright?” he mumbled. “Like… a lot. Like I think about you way too much, and I maybe almost threw my phone in a river once when you didn’t text me back for like three hours.”
Langa smiled. “Was I in class?”
“Yeah, but still.”
Langa sat up beside him, face warm and glowing even in the low light. He looked at Reki like he’d just won something.
“I’m glad,” he said.
Reki rubbed the back of his neck. “God, this is so embarrassing.”
“It’s really not.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re good at this stuff.”
“I’m really not.”
“You so are-”
Langa leaned in.
Reki blinked.
Langa leaned in more.
Reki’s heart did an Olympic-level somersault.
“You gonna kiss me or just stare?” he blurted out, immediately regretting it.
But Langa laughed, quiet and soft and kissed him like he’d been waiting to forever.
It wasn’t wild or dramatic or fireworks-in-the-sky. Just lips pressed together, warm and nervous and real. Reki’s hand found Langa’s hoodie sleeve and curled around it. Langa’s thumb brushed under his jaw like he’d done it a hundred times in his head before ever doing it out loud.
They pulled back and stared at each other.
Reki was grinning like an idiot. “Okay,” he said breathlessly. “Okay yeah. That was… yeah.”
Langa rested his forehead against Reki’s and whispered, “You’re worth everything.”
Reki melted. Just fully disintegrated on the spot.
Eventually, they laid back down, tangled in each other like it was second nature. Reki’s head ended up on Langa’s chest, ear pressed over his heartbeat, fingers tracing little shapes on his shirt.
“Hey,” Langa murmured.
“Mmh?”
“Next time you feel like skating alone at 2 a.m. with a busted arm…”
“I’ll call you,” Reki said immediately. “I promise.”
“Good.”
Reki yawned, suddenly so tired his bones buzzed. But this time, it was the good kind. Not the heavy, crushing tired. Just the kind that comes after surviving something and finally feeling safe.
“Hey, Langa?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re kind of the best.”
“I know.”
Reki elbowed him.
“I’m kidding,” Langa said, laughing. “You’re kind of the best, too.”
Reki drifted off to the sound of Langa’s heartbeat and the feeling of fingers brushing gently through his hair.
No tricks. No proving. No pretending.
Just them.
Together.
And for the first time in a long time, Reki thought… maybe he didn’t have to be afraid of falling.
Because someone would always be there to catch him.
It took a week before Reki could skate properly again.
His elbow healed slowly, like it was mad at him for being dumb. Langa helped wrap it every day again, like it was part of their new routine. Right before school, no complaints.
They didn’t really talk about that night. Not because they were avoiding it, but because they didn’t have to. Something had shifted between them. It was there in the way Langa bumped his shoulder in the hallways. In the way Reki let himself lean on him, literally and otherwise.
Things weren’t perfect. But they were better.
And that was everything.
“So,” Langa said one evening, holding his board with both hands. “You ready?”
Reki raised an eyebrow. “You sure you wanna go out skating with a fragile, emotionally unstable dumbass who can barely land a kickflip right now?”
Langa gave him the look. “You’re not fragile.”
“You literally watched me cry into a carpet.”
“And I’d do it again.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
Reki groaned but smiled. “Fine, fine. Let’s go.”
They hit the usual spot, that wide street under the overpass, the one that always caught the light just right at golden hour. The air was cool but not cold. Warm enough to forget it was still early spring.
Reki kicked off first, taking it slow. His body felt stiff, rusty. But for once, he didn’t push himself to be perfect. He just let himself ride.
Langa followed, smooth and steady, eyes on Reki more than the road. Like always.
“I missed this,” Reki said quietly.
“Me too.”
“I mean skating with you. Not the whole falling-on-my-face part.”
Langa smiled. “You’re allowed to fall.”
Reki looked over at him, rolling to a stop. “Yeah. I know that now.”
They stood there for a second, boards still, wind in their hair. Langa reached over and gently tugged Reki’s sleeve.
“You wanna try something?”
“What, like a trick?”
“No. Just come here.”
Reki stepped closer, curious and then Langa leaned in and kissed him again, soft and easy, right under the golden sky.
This one wasn’t nervous. It was warm. Secure. Reki kissed back without hesitation, arms winding around Langa’s hoodie, his heart calm for once.
They broke apart with identical grins.
“You’re such a sap,” Reki muttered.
“You keep kissing me though.”
“Shut up.”
Langa just laughed.
Later, they skated side-by-side again. Not racing. Not trying to outdo each other. Just riding, laughing, nudging, looping back when one fell behind.
And Reki realized something, as the city blurred past in flashes of light and color:
He wasn’t chasing anymore.
Not himself. Not Langa. Not some impossible idea of what he should be.
He was just moving forward.
With someone who chose him.
When they finally called it, sweaty and breathless and happy, Langa held out a fist.
Reki bumped it without hesitation.
“No one skates alone, right?” Langa said.
Reki smiled. “Right.”