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Seeing Reki so battered after a race should be a sight Langa was used to by now—and in normal circumstances, he was. But seeing how brutal Adam had been on a screen was wildly different compared to seeing the actual repercussions face-to-face. If Langa had thought the damage was bad from a distance, it made his stomach twist to realize it was so, so much worse up close.
"Reki, you should really let us get you to a hospital," Langa insisted softly, gently squeezing the hand he had thrown over his shoulders in order to help the former stand.
He'd barely even gotten the words out before Reki was shaking his head—which couldn't be a good idea, considering how many times he'd been hit there. "Nah, it's fine. I feel fine!" If he didn't know any better, Langa might've actually fallen for the bright grin Reki flashed as he spoke. If he couldn't see the blood caking on his skin and the shredded mess the cliffside had made of the back of his clothes—and the skin underneath, if the red seeping through the torn fabric was any indication—Langa might've actually been inclined to believe that Reki was fine, if a little scraped up.
But Langa did know better. He'd seen how brutal Adam had been during that race; he'd seen the way Adam had carelessly tossed Reki around as if he were just a ragdoll, the way he'd shoved him up against the uneven rock wall and just— just held him there, even when he'd started screaming, for no reason other than the fact it had caused Reki pain and Adam seemed to revel in that.
"That's the adrenaline talking, kid," Joe cautioned, still hovering protectively close by after Adam had given up his attempt to hassle Reki even though the race had already concluded with him as the winner. "Once that starts wearing down, everything's gonna start hurting pretty quick."
"And don't be an idiot about this!" Miya added on furiously. From where he stood a few paces behind Reki and Langa, Langa assumed the younger skater had a disturbingly clear view of just how messed up Reki's back was.
Despite clearly being outnumbered in his decision, Reki still resolutely shook his head; Langa's heart practically jumped into his throat at the way the action had seemed to make the other dizzy enough to stagger slightly. If not for Langa practically holding his entire body weight up at this point, Reki would've definitely gone crashing to the floor. "Guys, 's fine. I can patch myself up back at home, so it's not like… I'll let everything go untreated. Even I can tell how banged up I am right now, adrenaline or no," the redheaded skater attempted to argue. The slight pause for breath in between his words had been an alarming indicator that Reki's adrenaline crash was fast approaching.
Langa frowned, equally worried and frustrated for his stubborn friend. "Reki—"
"If he doesn't want to be checked out at a hospital, we can hardly force him to do so," Cherry interrupted. He'd been so quiet, just staring intently at Reki's slumped figure, that Langa had nearly forgotten he was still there.
"Kaoru," Joe began slowly, "you and I both know it's not a good idea to just send him home like this."
"Correct. Which is why I'm offering an ultimatum: Reki can go to a hospital, or he lets one of us handle his injuries so he's not left by himself." Cherry's tone offered no room for argument, and his expression was even more severe.
Reki, being Reki, of course tried anyway. "I don't need a babysitter, you know. I'm perfectly capable of dealing with this myself," he insisted petulantly; Langa was almost tempted to point out that Reki wasn't even supporting his own weight anymore, so treating himself would be out of the question regardless.
Fortunately, Miya had decided so Langa wouldn't have to. "You can't even stand up right now! Langa might as well be carrying you at this point," he accused, fists clenched tightly at his sides. He sounded angry, but anyone who spent enough time around Miya gradually came to understand that he simply exhibited his care in unorthodox ways—such as being confrontational.
Like a petulant child, Reki pointedly didn't acknowledge Miya's very accurate observation.
Langa'd about reached his limit. "If you won't go to a hospital, then I'm bringing you to my house." When he received a few quizzical stares in response, Langa added, "My mom's a nurse and generally works night shifts. We should have enough stuff at home to make sure even your worst injuries are properly tended." When Reki opened his mouth to—most likely—argue some more, Langa managed to silence him with a glare. He was going to let Langa take care of him whether he wanted it or not, damn it.
When Reki let out a frustrated huff and allowed his head to drop onto Langa's shoulder, he knew he'd gotten through. "My house it is, then."
"Here, sit down…"
Getting back to Langa's house with a half-conscious and injured Reki in tow was. Well. It was certainly an experience. Joe had offered to circle back to help after he'd managed to drop Miya and Cherry off, but from the way Reki had gone rigid at the suggestion, Langa knew he didn't want anyone else to see how battered he really was; rejecting the offer had earned a displeased frown from Joe and an angry look from Miya, but they hadn't fought the decision.
Now, Reki was perched delicately on Langa's mattress, despite his feeble protests that he didn't want to get his bed dirty since his clothes were all muddy (and bloody, Langa recalled with a wince), but he'd refused to hear anything of it; while Reki begrudgingly got himself situated, Langa retrieved the first-aid kit his mom kept well-stocked in the bathroom along with a few damp cloths. Upon returning to his room, Langa noticed Reki holding up the hem of his hoodie as he tried to look down at the damage on his front. Aside from the skin being scraped red and raw, it didn't seem too bad. Langa felt relieved that it wasn't worse.
Reki hadn't noticed Langa's return right away, but once he did he immediately dropped the bunched fabric as though it had burned him, his face flushing slightly with embarrassment. "Sorry," Reki mumbled, "I just thought if I could see how bad it was, you wouldn't need to worry as much."
"It's fine, Reki," Langa promised as he crossed the room and set the necessary items down on the bed. "But, uh. You'll need to… take your shirt off. So I can see the damage!" Seeing Reki's face get even redder had Langa practically stumbling in his rush to get the words out, feeling heat creeping up across his own cheeks. "I can look away, or something… If that'd be better," he offered awkwardly.
To Langa's surprise, Reki just shook his head. "You'll have to look to see what you're doing anyway," he pointed out, though he was notably looking anywhere but directly at the former. "It's just… I might. Need some help. I can't really lift my arm up very high right now." Langa recalled with a sympathetic wince just how many times Adam had grabbed and swung Reki around by his wrist during their beef. No wonder his arm was too sore to raise it much.
"Y-Yeah, sure. Of course," Langa offered quickly, hoping for Reki's sake and his own that they could get through all of this quickly without too much lasting embarrassment. With a bit of awkward shuffling, it wasn't as hard as Langa had been expecting to get Reki's tattered hoodie off. He tried not to wince too noticeably at the amount of red staining the yellow fabric, but Reki seemed to be watching him too closely to let it pass unaddressed.
"You really… don't have to do this, Langa," Reki insisted quietly, "I patch myself up all the time. I know you don't like blood, especially when there's… a lot of it." Despite his assurances, it didn't take a genius to see that Reki's energy was rapidly fizzling out. Great.
Langa simply shot Reki a look, lips pressed in a firm, disapproving line. As he set the article of clothing aside, Langa hesitantly settled down on the bed behind Reki, steeling himself for a cursory glance at the source of most of the blood—Reki's back.
If the multiple layers of clothing had saved Reki from the worst of the damage, it almost made Langa ill to imagine what 'worse' would've even looked like. Because what he saw in front of him was bad enough.
Several patches of skin had been scraped raw, as to be expected from something like being dragged against a rough surface, but the worst of it seemed to be centered around Reki's shoulderblades and the space in between; Langa recalled with disturbing clarity how Adam had not only slammed Reki against the cliffside, but had also seemingly applied most of the pressure to his upper back as he'd pulled him along. It looked painful enough, but it must've felt even worse. Langa couldn't properly assess the damage from how much blood was caked across the other's skin and how much was still freshly oozing from what seemed to be deeper gashes than Langa had been expecting. Jesus, just how much force had Adam been using?
He must've been silent for too long, because he could see Reki's telltale nervous fidgeting even before he'd started speaking. "Must not look too pretty back there, huh…?" It was clear he'd been trying to lighten the mood, but the clear strain in his voice—from exhaustion or pain, Langa couldn't be sure—made sure that intention had fallen flat.
Langa clenched a fist on his lap while his other hand hovered nervously over Reki's torn skin; he could feel the heat radiating from the injured flesh, which was unsettling enough. Not for the first time, he felt a strong desire to make Adam pay for being so willing to inflict such brutality on who Langa would almost dare to consider the sun's very personification. "Reki… It's. Bad. Like, really bad," he warned the redhead hesitantly. "I don't think you could fix this yourself even if you wanted to. He was trying to kill you out there." The words left a foul taste in his mouth, but Langa was more than certain of the statement's validity, considering the sight before him now.
"I wouldn't really say kill, that's a little overboard even for him," Reki argued with a nervous attempt at a chuckle. How he could consider laughing at his own expense, Langa couldn't begin to understand. "But he sure did do a number on me! Jokes on him, though; nothing keeps Reki Kyan down for long, right?"
"Stop."
Langa hadn't meant for the plea to come out so harshly, and he felt a flash of guilt when he noticed Reki's flinch. But he couldn't take hearing how little Reki valued his own safety; of course he was thrilled Reki had had fun even during such a harrowing race, but at what point did 'fun' cross the line into being downright reckless? Reki could've easily died tonight, by Adam's hand or even his own when he'd leapt off that cliff to pull off Langa's snowboarding move (which Langa was still so proud of him for performing, but those few seconds Reki had been airborne were definitely not good for his heart, damn it), and he didn't seem to mind or even care at all! It was worrying, for more than one reason. "Just… Stop, Reki. Please."
Reki stiffened and obediently went silent. Langa didn't need to see his face to know the guilty expression the former was likely wearing; Reki wasn't stupid, he knew how concerning his view of himself was to others. He knew how much they worried about him being so willing to put himself at risk, again and again, simply because he'd yet to be knocked down by something he couldn't stand back up from afterwards.
"I'll…" Langa hesitated, gaze roving over Reki's various wounds to determine the best place to start. "I need to clean you up a bit first so I can see what I'm dealing with. Try to stay still, alright? I'll be as gentle as I can but the blood that's already dried'll probably still pull at the skin a bit." He dropped his eyes to his lap. "…I'm really sorry, Reki."
Reki made a quizzical noise in his throat. "Huh? What for?"
"This. All of it." Langa knew the other couldn't see his vague gesturing with his back to him, but waving his hands around made getting the words out a little easier anyway. With a damp cloth, he began to gently scrub away the blood that had already crusted on Reki's scraped-raw skin, wincing in sympathy whenever the other would stiffen or hiss quietly at the uncomfortable sensation. "If I'd just stayed away from Adam like you told me to in the beginning, you wouldn't've been dragged into this. He was so…" It was hard to find the right words, but for Reki he could try. "…There were some parts where it seemed like he didn't even care about winning. He just wanted to hurt you."
He tensed as Reki tried to arch slightly away from the feel of the cloth dragging over his raw and vulnerable skin, gently resting his hand on Reki's right shoulder—he was certain that one had taken the least amount of battering between the two—in order to urge him to keep still. Reki was quiet for so long that Langa had begun to worry he'd said something wrong and managed to upset him again.
Then Reki laughed. Not a shy, uncertain chuckle. A full-on laugh. Despite the circumstances, Langa couldn't say the sound didn't bring a smile to his face. But the laughter meant Reki's shoulders were shaking way too much and Langa was going to end up prodding him rather harshly in the back if he didn't sit still. "Hey! I don't know what I said that was so funny, but you need to stop moving around or I could hurt you more," he grumbled.
"Aha… Sorry, sorry," Reki apologized, reaching up to wipe away some tears from the corner of his eyes, from what Langa could tell. "It's just… You know I accepted that invitation of my own volition, right?" Langa gave an affirmative hum that prompted the redhead to continue, "So how is my impulsiveness your fault? Langa, I wanted to do it. I was… I hated how much power he still had over me, even after our first beef. I hated how his creepy little… obsession put such a strain between us. I wanted to race him again so I wouldn't be so scared of him anymore." Langa realized he'd stopped moving the cloth at some point while Reki was speaking. He'd never…
Reki had never really… talked about the emotional side of things from his and Adam's first beef. He'd brushed off his head injury and broken arm as simple collateral, but considering he never particularly talked about the beef afterwards, the others had assumed he just wanted to put it behind him. Maybe he did want to, but clearly it had still been bothering him this whole time. There'd even been signs, now that Langa thought back on it. Reki's borderline desperation that Langa stay far away from Adam; the way his shoulders would subtly tense and hunch inwards somewhat protectively whenever someone even so much as mentioned the man's name; the way that whenever Adam made an appearance at 'S' afterwards, Reki would suddenly turn jittery and want to leave, citing a plethora of reasons Langa now knew to be empty excuses. How had no one noticed? How had Langa not noticed?
'Afraid' wasn't a word that Langa would ever think to attribute to Reki, especially when he was in his element either on a skateboard or designing one. With skating, he had a special sort of confidence that never manifested in anything else he did—even other things he was good at, like drawing. It had simply never once occurred to Langa that Reki could ever feel afraid while he was on a board. And yet, as he made himself look back on it… Reki had looked utterly terrified during that race, when there'd been mere inches between his head and the ground, Adam's glove planted so close to his face that sparks had been flying and stinging his skin. Of course he would've been afraid. Adam had only been toying with him then, and he'd still gone way too far and had come far too close to doing worse than just breaking Reki's arm and leaving him with a slight concussion. Now that Langa pondered it in detail, he realized with a cold shiver of dread that Adam could've very easily killed Reki in that first race, if the latter hadn't been so quick to use his hand so his head wouldn't hit the ground. He'd not only been banged up pretty badly by the ordeal, he'd also been left with an impression of fear that came with having one's life on the line in such a casual display. Adam hadn't even really been trying, and he'd still almost done irreversible damage just because he was bored.
And Reki never said a word about any of it.
Langa felt… nauseous, actually. Had Reki assumed no one would've listened or taken his concerns seriously? It made sense he wouldn't have confided in Miya, as angry as the younger skater would be to find out something so important had been kept secret from him, because Reki had only been in that race for Miya's sake in the first place. Joe and Cherry were co-founders of 'S' and old friends of Adam; Reki was too considerate to even think about complaining to them about their own friend. Shadow… He didn't have a very gentle approach to, well, anything, so to Reki, telling him would've been completely out of the question; he most likely would've made light of the whole situation and boiled it down to Reki just being a coward—a thought that made Langa want to shake the older man, just a bit. But he could've at least talked to Langa, couldn't he? Reki had said himself that they were best friends, and surely best friends trusted each other with sensitive topics like that?
Langa was suddenly unpleasantly reminded of that argument out in the rain. He knew something had been upsetting Reki back then, something more than just a simple broken promise, but all of the pieces hadn't clicked into place until just now. Langa had ignored his friend's obvious distress in order to chase the thrill from a dangerous skater who'd put Reki in the hospital. Who could've—and seemed disturbingly close to actually doing so—killed him, and Langa had been too preoccupied with the adrenaline that came with the idea of challenging such an experienced and talented skater to stop and realize the effect that would've had on Reki. Of course Reki wouldn't have seen him as a viable option to get things off his chest, not if he was convinced Langa idolized the man enough to skate against him despite the danger. How badly had Langa let it all spiral before it had finally clicked that something was wrong?
How could Reki have forgiven him so easily afterwards, still trust him enough to let Langa tend his wounds in the middle of the night without the slightest concern that he could possibly hurt him more instead?
It was the sound of Reki awkwardly clearing his throat that brought Langa back into the present moment; the moment that had him and Reki sitting on his bed while he tried to gently scrub the blood from the worst of Reki's injuries in order to clean them properly. "You, uh, alright, man?" Reki asked with a layer of masked concern. "Seemed like you kinda spaced out there a bit. Was it something I said?"
Actually, yes. 'I wanted to race him again so I wouldn't be so scared of him anymore.' Reki had said it so matter-of-factly, like it'd been common knowledge. But Langa had never even considered it as a possibility.
"You…" Langa trailed off as he resumed his careful scrubbing, unsure how to even begin unpacking such a heavy situation, "you never told me. That he'd scared you so badly." He hated how petulant he sounded, like a pouting child who hadn't gotten what they wanted. Hadn't it been his own fault that Reki never considered telling him? What was he feeling so bothered for?
Reki's heavy sigh contained no judgment whatsoever, just sheer exhaustion. Langa watched him lazily wave a hand around as he said, "It wouldn't have mattered, dude. Wouldn't have changed anything, I mean. Besides, I'm hardly the first person to get in over their head after challenging Adam—he's the King of 'S' for a reason. If anything, I should've known better."
"You weren't 'in over your head,'" Langa immediately denied, perhaps focusing on the wrong part of the conversation. But he needed Reki to understand that even though he'd come up short before, Langa would be there now. He needed Reki to know that he was listening. That he cared. "You just wanted him to apologize for insulting our friend. It was honestly incredible how little you needed to think about it, even though you'd basically idolized him only a few minutes before. Most people… They wouldn't do something that selfless with such minimal hesitation like you."
Reki laughed again, but this one was decidedly less genuine and much more strained. It wasn't a laugh Langa particularly liked hearing. "Laying it on a little thick, there, buddy," Reki joked, brittle as his tone was, "it's not like I didn't have something to gain from racing him—I got to actually see him in action, which was, like, huge, y'know? So it wasn't a total knight in shining armor moment like you're describing it. Just an impulsive kid making an impulsive decision and then paying the price for it, that's all."
Langa hated when Reki used that nonchalant tone when talking about himself. It was like he was totally oblivious to just how incredible he really was. Taking a measured breath, he retorted with, "But you still said yes to racing a second time." When Reki inhaled like he was about to argue, Langa made a point to steamroll ahead, "You said yourself that you were scared, but you still agreed to race him, Reki. Do you have any idea how awesome you looked out there? Adam might've barely beaten you, but everyone who watched that race knows who the real winner was."
He felt Reki tense underneath his hands as he rubbed with a little more force than usual to scrub away not just dried blood, but some dirt as well. He was about to apologize for being rough when Reki decided he was ready to respond. "Okay, yeah, that was pretty awesome. Did he look stupid flopping around in the mud?" Even without seeing his face, Langa could tell from Reki's tone that he was grinning, probably the same way he had after crossing the finish line. He seemed to be bouncing back to himself, but. They could talk about that later; for now Langa just wanted to keep that expression on Reki's face and that mischievous undertone in his voice.
"He looked absolutely ridiculous," Langa promised, which earned a short laugh that Reki was quick to get under control so as to not hinder Langa's work. He'd moved on to using antiseptic to properly clean the wounds, so keeping Reki engaged in a conversation was probably the best course of action at that point. "And you looked awesome, by the way. I mean, letting him catch your jacket so he wouldn't see you sliding underneath? It was absolutely brilliant."
"See, I— ah, ouch— told you I had some tricks up my sleeve!" Reki boasted, despite his perhaps slightly dramatic reaction to the antiseptic.
"I never doubted it for a second. Even after your wheel broke, I really thought you were going to win."
Reki's next words were more solemn; softer, even. "In a way, it kinda feels like I did," he confessed quietly, gradually relaxing back into Langa's touch as he moved on to putting gauze over the worst of Reki's scrapes and cuts. "I mean… That whole race was so fun! And totally worth the soreness, by the way. Plus, now that I've got an image of Adam covered in mud, soaked to the bone, and looking like a put out toddler in my head, he doesn't feel nearly as intimidating anymore. You're gonna kick his ass for me, right?"
Langa didn't even need to think about it. "Of course. He's more than earned it by now."
"Ha! Good. I can't wait to see the look on his face when you win." Though Langa would've preferred Reki sound that confident about his own skills, he couldn't deny how nice it felt to have the unwavering support of someone so incredible.
He still wanted to properly discuss, well, everything: Reki's fear, his lack of confidence in himself despite his obvious talent, all of it. But of course, that would come later. They had plenty of time.
They'd promised each other infinity, after all.