Chapter Text
Langa had only been back in Canada a few months before an interesting opportunity fell into his lap.
If he was honest, he didn’t particularly know why he came back to Canada in the first place. In fact, he felt a little guilty for doing so, as he had to leave his mother behind back in Japan where she had them uproot their lives just a few years ago. After he graduated high school, he felt lost. He tried taking a gap year, which turned into two. He fell into a depression, and he hated the way his mom looked at him when he was in a slump like that. So, he started applying, and managed to get accepted into a university in Vancouver.
Langa never wanted to leave Canada at all. It was all he knew, and where all of his memories with his father were. Despite his passing away when Langa was 13, Langa’s father was still at the forefront of so many of his cherished memories. He could still recall the endless snowboard races, snowball fights, cups of hot cocoa piled a mile high with whipped cream and marshmallows that his dad always made perfectly; everything he loved about Canada, his dad was there.
And then one day, he wasn’t.
So of course he couldn’t blame his mom for wanting to leave Canada. She only moved there for Oliver, and everything around them was just a constant reminder of who they had lost. It was a pain that, even after moving halfway across the world, still lingered around them both.
Don’t get Langa wrong; Okinawa was a truly beautiful place. But it was warm, it was on a beach, and it was a tropical paradise. Such an incredibly stark difference from where he grew up. Langa missed the snow and the cold, even the annoying parts like having to shovel the driveway.
He missed his dad.
Nanako tried to put up a fight initially when Langa made the suggestion of going back. After all, it wasn’t the easiest feat being able to move them to Japan, and it was going to be a process for Langa to be able to go back. And on top of that, he would only be 18, and his only family would be 16 hours ahead of his time zone.
But when Langa explained his reasons, she couldn’t reject his puppy dog eyes. She knew it was wishful thinking that Langa would’ve preferred Japan over Canada anyway. He always was his father’s son.
So, here he was, back in Canada after almost 6 years of being away. This time, all alone, and enrolled in university.
University wasn’t so bad. He was always a very isolated and introverted kid, and even at 20 years old, that hadn’t changed. Before his dad died, he was already a bit of a hermitted child, mainly sticking to doing things with his parents. They worried, but truthfully, they didn’t mind. After his dad died, he became even more of a recluse. Moving to Japan didn’t exactly help. He was beloved by his female classmates, though he could never figure out why. That, coupled with his introvertedness and language barrier, didn’t exactly make him popular with the guys. And even the girls seemed to figure out what a weirdo he was after a couple years, because he found that by the time he graduated high school, he was completely alone.
Now, in Canada, he found that that stayed the same. Which he didn’t mind, honestly; he wasn’t the biggest fan of change. He liked his quiet bubble. He had a quiet roommate in his dorm who was almost always gone, and he found an easy routine in attending his classes and going straight to his dorm. If he was feeling particularly adventurous, he might even do homework at a nearby cafe— not very often, though.
So, he was a little surprised and maybe even a little bothered when one day he got a call from an unknown number. He usually would ignore it, assuming it was a spam call, but he made the mistake of answering it one Monday morning.
“Hello?” Langa asked into the phone.
”Hey! This is Langa, right?” A voice asked. The man on the phone didn’t sound much older than him, and strangely, it sounded familiar.
“Who is this?” Langa asked, ignoring the question.
”It’s Liam! Um— Liam Jackson. Do you remember me? We were friends before you moved in 9th grade,” The boy, Liam, explained. ”Sorry to call out of the blue. I heard you were back in town, and I got your number from your mom.”
Langa bit back a groan, but he wasn’t surprised by his mom’s actions. She was always worrying about Langa not finding any friends, so he should’ve expected this to come eventually.
He actually wasn’t too annoyed by Liam’s call. Liam was the kid of his parents’ friends, which meant that he was one of the kids that Langa’s mom always tried to set up play dates with. Even when they were far too old for “play dates”, both of their parents encouraged them to hang out and be friends. He was never particularly close with Liam, but he considered him a friend from school at the least. He was nice.
“Oh, yeah, I remember. Hi,” Langa replied. “It’s been a few years. I didn’t know if you were still here,”
”Yeah it has… um, look man, I’m really sorry for what happened and never reaching out. I didn’t really think you’d want anyone to reach out, and uh, I couldn’t really figure out the whole calling Japan from Canada thing,” Liam apologized, sounding remorseful.
Honestly, Langa was never bothered by it in the least. He thought the whole ‘sorry for your loss’ conversation was always awkward and never sounded genuine. It felt like it was more for the person saying it than the one hearing it.
“Uh, no no, don’t worry about it. I never took it that way,” langa assured him.
”Oh, that’s good to hear,” he replied with a sigh of relief. He cleared his throat, clearly trying to move past the awkward energy. ”Um— actually, I wanted to ask you. Do you still play?”
The question threw Langa off, and he felt his body grow cold. He knew immediately what Liam was referring to— guitar. The instrument his dad taught him, what he used to do almost every night after their activities out in the snow or after school. It was one of the things that Langa cherished most with his dad. He learned with him, and every time he managed to perfect another song, he would play it for his dad and revel in the praise he gave him.
The guitar now was buried in the back of a closet somewhere. His mom convinced him to bring it with to Canada, but he couldn’t bear to play it since his dad’s passing.
Langa spoke softly. “No, not really anymore.”
”Oh really? That’s such a bummer, dude. I remember always being so jealous of your skills and seeing you play with your dad,” He chuckled. Langa didn’t reply. ”Well, did you want to play again? My friends and I started a band a couple years back and uhh— well, our bassist kinda just left us high and dry. We have a gig next weekend and y’know… we’re a bit screwed if we don’t get someone.”
Langa frowned. “Bassist? I’ve never even touched a bass before though,”
”Well, I’m sure you know that guitar translates well to bass. I mean, we’ll probably be able to find a decent enough bass player in time— but truthfully, I’ve never met someone who plays like you.” Liam admitted. ”Honestly uhh, our lead guitarist and singer is pretty hotheaded. He keeps driving our bassists away because he wants someone better. And well, when I heard you were in town again, I just figured I’d ask.”
“Oh,” Langa blinked, surprised by the admission.
”Look, I’m sure it’s been difficult to play considering… you know… but if you’re up for it, maybe this weekend you could come over and just try a sesh with the band. If you don’t like it, you can walk away forever. But I mean, if everything goes well…” Liam trailed off. ”Hey, no pressure, Langa. If it’s uncomfortable, I understand, no hard feelings. But please consider it,”
Langa bit his lip. If he was honest, he really missed playing guitar, but it was really painful for him to play. Maybe bass wouldn’t be so bad? Maybe like something not entirely new, but different enough.
“Ugh. Okay, let me think about it,” Langa told him.
”Nice! Thank you, Langa!" Liam cheered.
The boys hung up then, and Langa sighed as he forced himself up off his bed. What the hell did he just agree to?
At least it wouldn’t be guitar. He trudged his way to his closet, gripping the door handle tightly like it might just get up and run away. He opened the door slowly– delicately, even. He grimaced at the sight he saw, almost forgetting the state he left his dad’s acoustic in.
The memories came flooding back then, despite his inner protests, as he shut his eyes tightly.
”No! No.. you can’t make me get rid of it.” Langa cried to his mom, tears threatening to fall from his eyes as he hugged the guitar to his chest. He was scooched all the way in the corner of his bed, putting the most space between him and his mom, hoping she wouldn't be able to snatch it from his arms.
”Honey… I was not trying to say get rid of it. I was only suggesting that maybe we leave this one behind, and you and me can pick out a new one once we’re in Canada,” Nanako explained gently. Her eyes looked sad. “We can figure out a way to ship it to Japan if you are wanting to keep it.”
”How can you even say that?” Langa demanded. He didn’t usually get so worked up; even at his dad’s funeral he didn’t shed a tear. “It’s like you’re saying to get rid of dad!”
Nanako's eyes got wide at that, and Langa almost felt bad for saying it when it seemed to make her look even sadder than she already did.
”Of course I don’t want to get rid of dad, sweetheart. But keeping dad’s memory doesn’t mean keeping everything he owned. Even if we lost everything tomorrow, he’s still right here.” She explained, pointing to her chest. “He’s always with us, Langa.”
”No!” Langa refused, his grip tightening even more. He had never felt so angry, and desperate, and just totally alone. “He used this to–to teach me! If.. if the guitar is gone, then—”
Langa was cut off by snaps, a horrible, awful sound in Langa’s ears. He watched in terror as the tension in the strings from his grip ripped them apart, and two strings snapped in half.
Tears really did fall from his eyes then.
”It’s broken! It’s broken!” Langa wailed. “I killed it!”
Nanako swiftly pulled him close, soothing him as she rubbed his back gently. “You didn’t kill anything, Langa. It’s okay. We can fix the strings, honey.”
”It’s gone,” Langa protested weakly.
Langa shook himself out of the memory as he opened his eyes. That was the last time he could recall ever feeling something so intensely. It felt like, ever since his dad died, he’s kept his emotions at an arm’s length. He didn’t want to feel like that ever again.
The guitar was still sitting there, two strings broken, just the way they have been since that day. His dad was always the one that did the mechanical stuff, like tightening or changing the strings, and he honestly couldn’t take the thought of learning about guitar from someone who was not his dad.
He quickly shut the door, not wanting to look at the guitar for too long. Even when he grabbed clothes from his closet, he made sure to look straight ahead, avoiding the instrument on the top shelf.
This idea is so stupid. I don’t even have a bass. Langa thought to himself. But still, something inside of him longed to play again. No matter the hurt he knew he was going to feel after playing a song, there was something deep within that was pushing for him to do it anyway.
And honestly, joining a band couldn’t be that bad, right?