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"Hey Langa?" asks Reki, curled up on the sofa. His feet are on Langa's lap as he slumps against the back of the couch, scrolling through skating videos.
"Yeah?"
"We haven't gone on any dates, have we?"
Langa stretches, jostling Reki out of his comfortable position. "We've already gone on a lot, but I don't know if those count, since…"
They've only been dating for four days, and it's been raining nonstop ever since.
"I guess," replies Reki. He groans. "I wish we could go out."
It was already difficult enough for Reki to come over to Langa's in the torrential downpour, let alone for them to go out on actual, honest-to-goodness date. Hell, even his shirt's still drying in Langa's bathroom.
"What would you do, if it wasn't raining?" asks Langa, leaning against the couch again.
It isn't much of a question, is it? "Well, I'd go out on a date with you."
Langa flushes, and Reki grins, pinching his cheek. His heart flutters giddily in his chest as Langa leans into the touch, soft and shy and warm, with the faint smell of laundry detergent that makes Reki more than a little addicted.
Reki has no idea what he could have possibly done properly to deserve Langa, but he'll take it.
God, he's so screwed.
Langa mumbles something unintelligible into Reki's neck.
Reki laughs. "Yeah, I'd definitely go out on a date with you, even if we haven't technically already. Other than skateboarding, too. Like…" He pauses, thinking. "The arcade. Or bowling. Or a water park. That would be really fun!"
"But it's mid-winter…"
"Doesn't matter," cuts in Reki quickly. "I still want to take you out on a date."
Langa blushes even harder.
"Langa, I'm literally going out with you. If I didn't want to date you, then I wouldn't have said yes."
It hadn't been a confession, not really. More like Reki had fallen over from a skating incident, and then Langa was on top of him, and then there were some mumbled things that both of them probably forgot. And then, of course, Langa asked to go out with him, Reki was confused as hell, and Langa had to clarify that he meant it, like, romantically.
That was the gist of it, mostly.
"I know that, it's just…" Langa sighs. "I don't know."
"It's weird to hear it straight out, isn't it?"
"Yeah," sighs Langa. "Guess I'm not used to it."
"Well, you'd better get used to it," mumbles Reki, before pulling Langa closer towards him.
They fall on the couch, Langa on top, pressed against Reki, their legs tangling together. Langa laughs, clear and bright against the sound of dripping water, and Reki cherishes the sound almost as much as Langa himself.
Their lips meet, soft and unpracticed, and Reki smiles into the kiss, leaning into it further—
Drip. Drip. Drip.
What?
Reki blinks his eyes open, glancing around the living room. Where was the sound coming from?
He continues looking until a drop of water hits him squarely on the nose. Oh, shit.
"Langa."
"Wha…" mumbles the boy in question, smushed against Reki.
"I think there's a leak in your house."
"A leak?"
"Uh, yeah. Like, there's water dripping from your ceiling."
The two look up in tandem as a few more drops fall on them. A droplet lands on Langa's forehead with a plink, and Reki wipes it away with his thumb. Langa's breath hitches, then he lets out a breath.
"Reki, I have a leak in my house."
Maybe it's the way in which Langa said it, or maybe the absurdity of the situation finally dawns on them, but they burst out laughing.
Once they quiet down, Reki says, "Let's see what we can do here, I guess? I think we can grab a bucket, or something."
"And a mop," adds Langa, glancing at the ceiling again. Another drop falls, this time on his nose. Reki resists the urge to rub it off. "My mom only gets home in half an hour…"
Which means that they have to slow the sudden leak enough for Langa's mother to arrive and… what, exactly? Reki pushes the thought to the back of his mind; they'll figure it out later. They need to focus on their current problem.
Which is the very worrisome leak in the ceiling of Langa's living room.
"Okay, I'll get a bucket," offers Langa, shoving himself off the sofa. Reki mourns the loss of body warmth before he also gets up, scrambling to find the mop.
It's not too hard to find, mostly because Reki's helped out at the Hasegawa home more times than he can count. He twirls it in his hands, ready to sweep up the small, sodden puddle covering part of the sofa and carpet.
"Let's move the sofa first," says Langa. They each lift up the ends of the sofa, moving it out of harm's way. Although they try their best not to let it scratch the wooden flooring, it still squeaks with every passing movement.
"Okay," says Reki, panting slightly from the exertion, "now all we need is the bucket."
"The bucket." Langa looks around nervously, as if expecting the bucket to suddenly appear before him. "Right."
Finding a bucket turns out to be much, much harder than it appears. They scramble around the apartment, looking for a piece of plastic the size of a small trash can, and fail miserably.
They only have fifteen minutes until Langa's mother arrives, and the water has already soaked through the hastily-placed towels on the floor.
Unless…
"What about that trash can over there?" suggest Reki, and Langa winces, but what choice do they have? So they empty out one of the tiny trash cans, replace it with a new, relatively clean trash bag, and set it directly under the dripping ceiling.
It's stupid, but it works, and that's how Nanako Hasegawa finds them, ten minutes later, with a plastic bag full of water, sodden clothes, and a drenched carpet.
She smiles, setting her jingling keys on a nearby table. "So, had fun on your first date?"