#reki and i learn a lot about love languages and what works best for one another thru it all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reki-of-the-valley · 3 years

Text

You Are My Sunshine

It’s here! The fanfic based of off this post of mine

Find it on AO3 here

1 - Langa

Langa wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping. His room is plunged in darkness, only the faint glow of streetlamps outside his window filtering through his blinds. In a daze, he reaches for his phone, blinding himself as he opens it to check the time. 3:28 am. There’s school in the morning, Langa knows this, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to fall back asleep. The dream is starting to fade, the once sharp images starting to blur together, but it keeps him awake. Or rather, one image sticks with him, keeping his eyes wide open: Reki’s bright smile. Langa had been dreaming of Reki.

It isn’t uncommon for Reki to pop up in Langa’s dreams – all of his friends would pop up from time to time – but this time, it was different. It was just Reki and nothing seemed to have been really happening. Nothing Langa could remember, at least. But Reki had been there, smiling as he always did. He had been smiling so bright, like the sun. Sunshine, Langa thought at the mental image of his best friend’s grin. Reki with his crooked front teeth, smiling so big. Sunshine, as he smiled at Langa. A smile all for Langa, only for Langa.

Langa lies there, staring at his ceiling. Sunshine, Reki is my Sunshine. That alone has Langa smiling in the darkness of his room. He tries biting the smile back, but he can’t help it. Anyway, no one is there to see him smiling like a fool to himself.

Snippets of the dream come back to him before vanishing once more: the warm wind in his hair, the swirls of pinks and purples and reds in the sky behind the pair, the feel of Reki’s calloused fingers tightening around his own, the brightest smile Langa’s ever seen. They come and go like waves crashing against a beach. The beach. Sunshine.

Langa shakes his head before flipping onto his stomach and burying his face into his pillow. He needs to get the mental image out of his head. He can’t keep thinking of Reki like this. His heart can’t take it; his head is screaming. If he had known that he would end up dreaming of Reki like this, dreaming of his smile, dreaming of his mouth, dreaming of his lips, Langa would have shut down the possibility of Reki liking him back ages ago. But here he is at 3:37 am, thinking of Reki, thinking of how his dream would have ended. The last thing Langa remembers is Reki’s fingers against his burning skin, their bodies so close. Sunshine. It’s all Langa can think of. My beautiful Sunshine.

Langa needs to sleep, but he can’t bring himself to close his eyes. Whenever he does, he sees Reki, Reki so close, and he dreams of what it would be like to kiss his best friend. Would Reki be kind to him, kissing him gently under the setting sun? Would Reki hold him when Langa would inevitably tense, afraid of having messed up? Would Reki smile into the kiss, his beautiful smile pressed to Langa’s lips? Probably not, because Reki wasn’t going to kiss Langa. At least not in real life. In Langa’s fantasies, then maybe his Sunshine would be gentle and kind and loving. In Langa’s fantasies, Reki would love him as much as Langa loves him.

It’s 4:17 am when Langa checks the time again. He still hasn’t managed to fall back asleep. He contemplates texting Reki, but he knows the boy is asleep. And if he isn’t, well, he should be. Unlike Langa, Reki doesn’t need all that much sleep to be functional. He could be bouncing off the walls with only three hours of mediocre sleep – Langa knows he becomes moody if he doesn’t get his 7 hours of sleep. And unlike Langa, Reki refuses to put his phone on silent when he goes to bed which means that, if Langa did decide to text him, his phone would buzz and wake him up. So Langa doesn’t text Reki. He can’t continue thinking of Reki this much. He can’t afford to lose more sleep over this. Aren’t crushes supposed to go away after a few weeks at most?

Langa flips to his side, pulling his blanket over his head. He needs sleep. He needs to stop thinking of Reki. He needs to stop thinking of him as his Sunshine. There’s school in the morning. There are assignments he has to work on. There are new tricks Langa wants to try on his skateboard. There’s the inventory to do at work. Anything but Reki. Anything but his bright grin. Anything but his smile against Langa’s. Work. School. Skateboards. Or nothing. If everything went away, maybe Langa would finally be able to drift back to sleep. If he thinks of nothing… as long as it isn’t Reki… he can sleep… he can dream of a pink and purple and red sky… he can dream of…

—

2 - Nanako

The sun is high in the sky as Langa walks next to his mother. The warm wind is kissing his face, pushing his hair back for him. It’s a nice day to be out. It’s a nice day to spend with his mother; it feels like forever since the last time he accompanied her to the grocery store.

Nanako is walking by his side, asking him about what he wants to eat so she knows what to buy. Langa shrugs. He isn’t picky, anything his mother makes is good with him. She chuckles, saying something about him never changing. Langa doesn’t quite get it, but he simply nods. He never knows what to tell his mother. He never really knows what to tell anyone.

He follows her into the grocery store, a few steps behind her. People are brushing past him, young and old. Langa likes watching people, wondering what their lives are like. Sure, their faces all blur together, and the moment he’s looking away, he forgets about them, but he likes wondering what it’s like being someone else. He likes watching the old couples walking together, going on with their little lives. He likes watching the mothers juggle their children, sometimes giving in and buying the packs of cookies that are presented to them, sometimes scolding their children for taking things they don’t need off the shelves. He likes watching the groups of teenagers counting their coins, making sure they have enough for the snacks they want. Everyone has a different life, a life Langa will never know. Everyone is different and Langa finds that concept fascinating.

Langa watches as his mother picks up a few vegetables. He isn’t sure what the difference is between them, both leafy and green, but his mother seems torn. He points to the ones on the left which seems to satisfy Nanako. She says something about the many ways she can use it and Langa nods. He knows he’ll forget in an hour, but he still listens. He likes learning. He wants to be able to make meals for those he cares about.

They move around the grocery store, Nanako talking, explaining, planning the meals of the week, while Langa listens. It’s often like that, Langa just listening. He knows he should speak up a little more, voice his opinion, answer his mother with more than a curt nod or a shake of the head. He knows he should try to hold a conversation with her, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Something about having to talk, it makes him tense. He never really liked talking all that much. He rather just listen to others. They were always more interesting than him.

“I wish I had made more traditional dishes when you were younger,” Nanako says half in English, half in Japanese as she picks more vegetables from the stand. It’s a bad habit that she and Langa have, mixing the two languages when they talk to each other. “I feel like you missed out on that and now I’m paying for it. I never know what to make, always afraid you won’t like it.”

“I always like what you make.”

“I know you do, but that’s because I always make the same things. And when I do want to make something new, things I used to eat at your age,” Nanako sighs, putting back the package she had picked up. “It never comes out right and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Even when I follow recipes, they’re never quite how I want them.”

Langa doesn’t know what to say. He thinks back to what his mother used to give him back in Canada and he realizes there really weren’t that many traditional Japanese dishes. He remembers eating lots of rice with his meals, but the dishes themselves weren’t Japanese. They weren’t even Asian-inspired most of the time. They were what he had always considered normal, no name associated with them. He remembers when eating shitty Chinese takeout was considered exotic.

“I like what you make. I’m not picky.”

It isn’t a perfect answer, probably not what his mother wanted to hear, but she takes it. She smiles at him, chuckling lightly as she pats his arm.

“I know you aren’t. I’m very lucky that you aren’t.”

“And,” Langa’s voice surprises him, but not quite as much as it surprises Nanako. Still, he finishes his thought. “I could always ask Sunshine’s mom for pointers on how she makes her dishes. I’m sure she would be more than happy to help you.”

Nanako is looking at him, an eyebrow raised and an amused smile playing on her lips. The silence that falls between them is shattered the moment Langa feels his heart pound in his chest and his ears. He can feel the blood rushing to his face as he’s waving his hands around frantically.

“Wait! No! I didn’t mean-! I mean, Reki’s mom! I’m sure she-!”

Langa bites the inside of his cheeks, ducking his head in embarrassment. He can see everyone around looking at him funny, at his English outburst. They quickly return to their lives, completely forgetting about Langa, but he doesn’t forget. Not when his mother is laughing at him, patting his arm affectionately. Not when he still hears his words ringing in his head. Sunshine. Sunshine. Sunshine. He wasn’t supposed to say that.

“We’ll talk about this ‘Sunshine’ when we get home, hm?”

Langa wants to die. He does not want to talk about this ‘Sunshine’ when they get home, but he simply nods, trailing behind his mother like a little kid afraid of getting lost. He’s almost 18, but he feels like he’s 10 again. He feels so small with everyone looking at him. He knows they aren’t, but still, it feels like they’re judging him. Judging him for his loud voice. Judging him for the pet name he had picked. Judging him for calling his totally only platonic best friend Sunshine.

So he makes himself small, refusing to talk unless addressed by his mother. He isn’t sure he would survive if he embarrasses himself another time.

—

3 - Reki

The cold air feels wonderful against Langa’s flushed cheeks. It tangles in his sweat-drenched hair, pushing it out of his equally sweaty face. He’s hot, he’s panting, but he’s high on the thrill of the night. He doesn’t feel the exhaustion, even if he knows his body is ready to give in completely.

Another race won for Langa, not that he cares much for his winning streak. It’s more about going against new challenges for him, rather than actually winning. Not that he doesn’t like the feeling of winning! He loves that thrill, especially when it’s Reki grinning at him, pumping his fist in the air, and screaming that Langa won. But his favorite part really is the novelty of each race, never having the same tricks pulled on him twice. He loves having his mind racing, trying to figure out his opponent’s next move, as the wind hits his face. He loves being kept on his toes, both literally and metaphorically.

Langa’s mind is in a blissfully hazy state as he walks next to Reki, their shoulders bumping, their hands occasionally brushing against each other. Reki is talking – Reki is always talking – his hands waving around as he does. The street is deserted, their neighborhood plunged in darkness and silence, but it still feels lively because Reki is there. Reki is there to brighten everything. Reki and his enthusiasm, going on and on about the way Langa had swerved, the way he had jumped, the way he had won. Reki and his bubbly personality that is just like the sun.

Langa knows they should just go home, maybe both crash in Reki’s room, a sweaty mess of giggles and pants, but he finds himself tugging Reki down another street. Reki doesn’t resist; Reki never resists. Even if they’re both exhausted, muscles aching from all the physical strain of skating, they’re make their way down the street, kicking rocks under half-dead streetlamps. Being outside just feels nice. The cool breeze, the freedom of the night, Langa likes it. And he gets Reki all to himself for just a little longer. Langa likes having Reki all to himself, with no one there to interrupt them.

Langa’s stomach lets out a loud grumble, a pain piercing through him. Hunger. He’s always been a big eater, the perfect stereotypical teenage boy, but his mother has always understood. He was always out and about, burning all his energy on his board. First it had been snowboarding, now it’s skating. And after tonight, it’s understandable. He had given it his all, after all.

Reki nudges him, giggling like a fool. Langa feels his stomach flip when Reki snorts, his hands covering his mouth immediately after. But he’s still giggling, pitchy and breathy, and Langa falls. He falls for this boy, this boy who’s always been insecure about his laugh, this boy who’s always muffled his laughter whenever he felt it get uneven, this boy who trusts him enough to laugh so freely, snorting and giggling. Langa falls even deeper in love with this Sunshine of a boy. Langa loves Reki. Langa loves Reki and Reki doesn’t know this as his fingers tangle with Langa’s, pulling him along as they walk towards the closest open fast-food joint.

Langa isn’t sure of what he’s doing. His mind is hazy, clouded by the feeling of Reki’s calloused fingers against his own. He can feel every scar carved into Reki’s palm, soft and rough and everything in between. All he knows is that Reki is still talking, that he’s still grinning, that he’s pulling Langa along. All Langa knows is that he would follow Reki to the end of the world if it came down to it.

“Are we getting burgers, Sunshine?”

Reki’s eyebrows furrow. He’s staring at Langa with a funny look on his face. But his smile doesn’t falter. Well, maybe it does. His smile is there, but it’s not quite the same. It’s not crooked teeth and laughter. It’s questioning as he stands there, right next to Langa. It’s-

Langa feels his insides flip. Everything squeezes inside of him. Sunshine. His throat dries. It closes up. Sunshine. This isn’t his mom who simply teased him about the name. Sunshine. This isn’t a stranger Langa would forget about within the hour. Sunshine. This isn’t his head or his heart. Sunshine. This is Reki. This is Reki who now knows about Langa’s shameful secret. Sunshine.

Langa couldn’t deny that Reki was a Sunshine because it was the truth. He was bright and happy and warm and essential to Langa’s life. Reki was sunshine, but saying it out loud, saying it to his face, it was truly admitting, fully putting his feelings out there. It was admitting that his feelings were real. It was Langa finally, truly acknowledging that what he felt for Reki was more than puppy love, more than a schoolyard crush. Sunshine had always been Langa’s entryway into love, whether he liked it or not. Sunshine was Langa admitting that he thought a little too often about Reki, a little too intensely, a little more than just platonically.

Pretty laughter breaks from Reki’s lips as he nudges Langa’s shoulder. His hand had slipped away from Langa’s and Langa already misses its heat. He feels cold now in the night air. Reki knows what Langa said. Reki knows that it’s weird. Reki is uncomfortable. Langa messed up again. He always messes up.

“Sure, dude! Man,” Reki bumps his shoulder against Langa’s once more, flashing him a grin, “I’m starved. You payin’ or is it on me tonight? I can’t remember who paid last time.”

Langa blinks a few times as he matches Reki’s pace. Reki isn’t saying anything about the name. He isn’t saying anything about Sunshine. Maybe, somehow, Reki didn’t notice. Maybe he doesn’t find it weird.

“You,” Langa feels his throat clog, but he pushes through his awkwardness. “You don’t mind that I called you Sunshine?”

“Why should I?” Reki’s eyes are big and they glow under the flickering light of the streetlamps. Crooked teeth show again. “I mean, it’s not some weird thing, is it? It’s not an English insult, is it?”

Langa is hit with a wave of relief as he shakes his head. Reki is oblivious to the meaning of the name. Sweet, oblivious Reki. He doesn’t know how much Langa loves him.

“No, no it’s not. It’s just… a nickname? I guess? It’s not mean. It’s a nice thing to be called.”

“Then you can continue calling me that, if you want!”

Sweet, oblivious Reki. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to Langa, but that’s alright. It’s alright as long as he’s still walking by Langa’s side, his warm hand brushing against Langa’s cold one. It’s alright as long as he’s still smiling, bright and beautiful. It’s alright as long as they don’t change. Langa doesn’t want them to change. He loves Reki and that’s alright. He loves Reki in every way possible.

—

4 - Miya

There’s an electric feel fizzling through the air, energizing everyone at S. Langa watches the skaters, the ones that stand on the sidelines, staring at their phones, the ones screaming with their friends, the ones challenging each other. Langa watches all the different dynamics, all the different people he doesn’t know. He knows he has been challenged by a few of these people, he knows a good number look up to him, but he doesn’t know any of these people. He knows none of the people he’s looking at. None except his friends who are standing by the starting line.

Through the noise of the crowd, Langa can hear them loud and clear. All the other noise filters out, only Reki and Miya’s voices standing out as Langa gets closer to the pair. They’re bickering as they always do before a race. Reki is teasing Miya, his bright smile turned something mischievous. Langa loves how Reki treats Miya the same way he treats Koyomi. He teases, poking at the younger boy, but he’s never mean. Reki knows how to get under Miya’s skin, but it’s all fun and games. Miya is never mad at him, even if he does react like he is, crossing his arms, his face scrunching as he spits out insult after insult. And Reki laughs those insults off, patting the boy’s head.

“He’s thirteen; it’s just how they are at that age,” Reki had once said when Langa asked if it bothered him, all the things Miya had said to him. “Koyomi is worse. She really knows where to hit for it to hurt. Like, literally and with words. She’s ruthless.”

So Reki simply stands there, smiling while Miya tells him that he’s going to lose in his smug little voice. And when the boy’s voice cracks on the last word, his whole face flushing, Reki simply chuckles, patting his arm.

“Alright, sure. But don’t be surprised when you have to do my English conjugation homework later. You know, when you lose?”

Miya whips around to face Langa who’s just standing there, quiet and awkward, watching his friends bicker and trash talking each other. The boy’s face is red and scrunched. Langa wonders if he’s actually getting worked up or if it’s just Miya being Miya, a kid learning to deal with his emotions.

“Tell the slime that he’s going down!”

Langa shrugs. Both his friends are amazing skaters. So he says that. Miya doesn’t seem to like that answer, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he huffs, but Reki’s grinning and that’s all that really matters. Because in the end, he knows that the two will have fun, no matter who wins and who loses.

Reki checks his phone. It’s almost time for their race to start. Miya is shifting his weight from side to side. He isn’t nervous, he insists that he isn’t, but Langa knows better. Langa knows that despite what he says, Miya takes these competitions very seriously. Miya likes winning. Miya wants to win. Miya feels good when he wins. It’s the way he calculates if he’s good enough or not. Langa and Reki had tried changing that way of thinking, but it’s harder than it seems. Still, Langa wants Miya to know that it’s not all about winning. That’s why he’s patting the boy’s back, smiling down at him.

“You’re going to be amazing, Miya. You always are. No matter if you win or lose. You’re a great skater.”

Miya ducks his head, his hood hiding half of his face. He’s like Reki when it comes to being praised. He blushes and hides, but he likes them. He likes being reassured. Both of them do, but Reki is harder to praise. Reki won’t hesitate to shut Langa up, his hands clasping over Langa’s mouth for him to stop talking. One day, Langa will get through to him.

“And you,” Langa moves to Reki, squeezing his shoulders as he smiles. It’s easy to smile around Reki. “You’re going to do great. Like always. So good luck out there, Sunshine.”

Reki grins – Reki always grins – as he nods, grip tightening around his board.

“Sunshine?” Miya’s voice is loud and clear and judging. “Really? You…” He scoffs, kicking at the rocks on the ground. Langa doesn’t need to see him to imagine his figure, hands stuffed in his pockets, face pinched and judging. Always judging. “That’s so gross, you slime. Of all the names you could have picked, you go with something as cheesy as Sunshine?” A gag. “Gross. And I can’t believe it!” A voice crack. “You guys could have at least told me that you’re dating each other! How long have you been hiding this from me?”

Langa doesn’t see Miya. Langa doesn’t see anything, actually. He can’t move. Everything freezes. Everything feels distant. His insides twist as the boy keeps talking. His heart stops beating in his chest. His throat clogs up. He feels sick. Langa is going to be sick. Langa is going to be very sick very soon.

Everything possible went wrong. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised at Miya’s reaction. He knows that Miya is pretty fluent in English. He knows Miya spends a lot of time playing video games online, playing with people from all around the world. He knows Miya spends a lot of time on social media. He knows that Miya isn’t a native English speaker, but that he’s somehow better than Langa in English. He knows that Miya understands him whenever he says anything in English.

But Reki doesn’t know. Reki never knows what Langa is saying. Sometimes even when Langa is speaking Japanese, Reki stares at him like he just blurted out 100 digits of Pi or tried explaining the quadratic formula. Actually, no, because Reki understands that. Reki knows math. Reki is amazing at math. But he’s horrible when it comes to languages. Reki is terrible at English because words are hard for him. Letters are weird to him. What’s the difference between a p, a d, a q, and a b? They all look the same to Reki. So Langa can get away with blurting things out in English around him. Reki just accepts that he doesn’t understand and it doesn’t seem to bother him. Because Reki is amazing at math, but he sucks at languages.

“Langa?”

Langa is gasping for air. Everything is blurry. Everything except Reki’s hand on his arm. Reki, the way his fingers are digging into Langa’s skin. Everything is blurry, everything is hazy, everything is choking Langa, everything except Reki. Reki and his warmth. Reki and his kindness.

“Langa, you good, man?”

Reki is crouching next to Langa, steadying him on the uneven ground. He hasn’t let go; he doesn’t seem like he’s ready to let go any time soon. And for that, Langa is grateful, even if his breathing is uneven and difficult. He’s grateful, but guilt twists in his gut. He can see it, he can see the panic in Reki’s beautiful bright amber eyes, the uncertainty, the anxiety. He can see Reki growing anxious, but he can also see how he’s pushing all of that away for Langa. Langa can see Reki pushing away all his own feelings, all his own emotions aside for him. He’s trying his best to be there for Langa as this overwhelming feeling grows, hazing everything around him. Faces blur, Miya’s voice drains out, even Reki’s face starts going fuzzy. One, two, three, Langa tries counting the freckles on Reki’s face. One, two, three, Langa tries calming himself. One, two, three, Langa’s never felt this before. One, two, three, everything is wrong.

He can hear them, the distant voices of Joe, of Cherry, even of Shadow. Langa doesn’t understand what they’re saying, but he can hear them. He can hear Joe, his deep voice rumbling through the air. He can hear Cherry, his dry voice growing nearer. He can hear Shadow’s loud and rough voice, a voice that’s always made him wince ever so slightly. And then there’s Miya. He can hear Miya again. He can hear Miya’s frantic, panicked, defensive words. Words he doesn’t understand. Are they in English? Are they in Japanese? It’s probably Japanese; they are in Japan after all. And then there’s Reki. Reki’s soothing, calming voice snapping as he turns away from Langa. His kind eyes had turned hard as he turned at the young boy. And his voice… Langa had never heard Reki sound like that.

“We’re not dating, so cut it out, Miya!”

They’re not dating. The words ring in Langa’s air. They never will date. Reki doesn’t like him like that. Sweet, beautiful Reki, he doesn’t love Langa the way Langa loves him. He doesn’t even know that Langa loves him so much. Beautiful Reki with his big amber eyes. Beautiful Reki with the prettiest laugh, especially when he snorts. Langa loves him and he doesn’t know because he never will love Langa back. Not like that, at least.

The crowd that had formed around Langa and Reki and Miya starts to thin out. Langa’s vision is starting to come back as his breathing slows. The colors aren’t blurring together as they had been moments prior.

He can see Joe pushing people away. They don’t resist; Joe has that power, people never question him. Shadow is helping him, though he’s more intimidating, scaring people away rather than ushering them away like Joe. And Miya has disappeared, but Langa catches a glimpse of green next to Joe, small against the man’s large frame. It’s probably Miya, but Langa isn’t quite sure. He isn’t quite sure of anything, if he’s being honest.

He catches Cherry glancing at him and Reki. He can’t read the man, he never can, but somehow, it calms him. It calms him to see Cherry standing there, arms crossed, his eyes flickering between the two boys on the ground and the thinning crowd. It’s protective. It’s… nice. Langa isn’t quite used to being cared for, he isn’t quite used to being the one on the ground, he isn’t quite used to being the one needing assistance, but seeing his friends there for him, looking out for him, it feels good.

Reki shifts in front of him, dropping down onto his knees. His head hangs back as he takes a deep, shaky breath. Oh, Reki is shaking. Langa was so fixated on himself that he didn’t notice how much Reki was panicking. He’s shaking like a leaf. He’s- Reki is laughing. Reki is laughing and shifting again, getting as comfortable as he can on the ground. He’s laughing, his eyes bright and big as they meet Langa’s. Reki is laughing while Langa just sits there, awkward, embarrassed, only starting to calm.

“Man,” Reki rubs at his nose, his voice higher than usual from the laughter, “I can’t believe that happened. Like Miya was… Man, I didn’t know what to say.”

“You,” Langa surprises himself, his voice catches him off guard, but he doesn’t stop. “You handled it pretty well.”

“You think?”

Reki’s cheeks are flushed. He’s still rubbing at his nose, a nervous tick of his. But he seems calm. He’s grinning. He looks beautiful like that. He always looks so beautiful.

Langa nods, not trusting his voice. And as he nods, his eyes flicker down. His body burns, his throat clogs up, but it feels different for moments ago. Everything contracts, but it releases just as quickly. Because it feels good. It feels good to have Reki’s hand over his, though Langa isn’t sure when that happened. He hadn’t felt Reki’s hand cover his, but now it’s all he feels.

Langa gulps. Reki’s hand is on his. It’s not the first time – Reki is an extremely physical person, from the small touches like their hands brushing together as they walk side by side to the bigger gestures like hugs – but Langa doesn’t know what to do. It’s not like the other times. Reki doesn’t have a reason to have his hand on Langa’s. But he chose to do so. He voluntarily chose to touch Langa, even after this whole fiasco.

“Hey,” Reki’s eyes flicker to where Chery was standing but has since left before coming back to Langa’s, “you good man?”

Langa nods again – it’s all he can manage to do, especially when Reki is looking at him like that. His deep amber eyes seem hazed with something Langa can’t quite pinpoint. They look softer, somehow. They’re not quite as big as usual, not flickering around excitedly like Langa is used to. They’re fixated on his face, on his eyes. Reki is staring at him, staring as if Langa is all there is to see in this big, wide world.

“You can tell me if something is bothering you, you know that, right?”

Langa’s heart flips in his chest as he straightens out. It was involuntary, Langa swears. He hadn’t meant to stare at Reki’s mouth, his eyes catching on the perfect curve of his lips as he smiled. It was an accident. Everything that happened tonight was an accident.

“I’m sorry,” Langa blurts out, leaning closer to Reki to make sure he hears him. He wants to make sure Reki knows how sorry he is about everything. “I’m sorry about the- about the whole- I shouldn’t have-!”

Langa bites the inside of his cheeks, sinking back into the ground. He just wants to apologize. He just wants to tell Reki that it will never happen again, that he’ll be more careful next time, but the words clog up in his throat. He can’t say it. He can’t say anything. Langa can never say anything.

“Is this about the whole Sunshine thing?”

Langa nods, shame filling him once more. He hates that he even dared allow himself to call Reki Sunshine. It was a name of his fantasies. It was a name given to the boy that could love him back. It was his feelings slipping out, completely out of control. It was Langa falling in love with the impossible.

“S’fine, dude.” Reki is smiling again. He’s shifting closer to Langa. “I really don’t mind. I mean, it’s not mean, so… You’re allowed, dude. It’s okay.”

Everything suddenly feels fuzzy and warm inside of Langa. It’s from the way Reki had gotten closer, their knees bumping and touching. It’s from the way Reki’s thumb is rubbing soothing circles into Langa’s knuckles. It’s from way Reki is looking at him, looking at him as if Langa really is the only person in the world. It’s from the way Reki’s cheeks are dusted with a rosy blush, his every freckle like a little star against a setting sun. Everything feels warm and fuzzy inside of Langa because Reki is there.

Langa never wanted them to change, but something has shifted. Their entire world shifted, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Change isn’t always bad, Langa has to remind himself, because if there wasn’t any change, then he wouldn’t have been here, staring at this beautiful, infinite golden hour that’s playing in Reki’s eyes. He wouldn’t be here, lost in those eyes. He wouldn’t be here, just him and Reki.

Langa had never considered himself a shy or nervous person. He never had a problem saying what was on his mind when he was prompted to speak. He never minded sounding blunt because it meant that he was being honest. Sure, it never hurt being a little less direct, a little softer, but if all he could manage was being blunt, then so be it. So far, it had always worked. Yet, staring Reki, Reki with his big and kind eyes, Langa finds himself tongue-tied. The words clog in the base of his throat, refusing to come out.

It’s now or never, Langa knows that. He has to say something now or he would have to die with his feelings buried deep in his heart. It’s now or he’ll never have another shot at confessing. It’s now or he’ll never get to see this beauty ever again.

His nails dig into the ground as his eyes squeeze shut. He feels hot. He feels like he’s burning from the inside. It’s now or never. Langa has to do this now.

“Reki, I like you.”

The words spill as Langa tenses. He feels his shoulders go stiff. He feels his stomach twist. He waits. He can’t open his eyes yet. He waits. He feels Reki’s thumb freeze against his skin. He waits. He knows the rejection is coming. He waits. He waits for his heart to shatter.

Pretty laughter. A snort. Pitchy giggling. Langa opens one eye, looking up at Reki. His face is completely flushed, his cheeks as red as his hair, but he’s giggle and nodded and grinning. He’s grinning from ear to ear. Langa relaxes, his breath hitching at the sight. Reki doesn’t hate him.

“Yeah, man? For real? You mean it?”

Does Langa mean it? Of course he does. It’s probably the most truthful thing he’s ever said in his life. He nods. Reki laughs excitedly. Nervously. He’s rubbing at his nose again.

“Man, aw, dude! That’s-!” The giggles are breaking up his sentences, not that Reki seems to be able to formulate a single coherent thought right now. His mind is probably racing. “Yeah, okay, yeah, man! I mean- Aw, dude-” more rubbing of the nose, his face flushing even deeper if that’s even possible. “Dude, this is so much harder than I thought… Of course, you somehow manage to make it sound so easy. You’re so good at this stuff, man.” Reki takes a deep breath. It’s a little shaky, but he’s still smiling so wide. “Langa, dude, I like you too!”

They’re both shaking. They’re both shaking and grinning and nodding and laughing. Langa feels breathless, adrenaline fueling him. The feeling, the feeling of Reki saying that he likes him too, the feeling of having Reki smile at him so brightly, looking like literal Sunshine, it’s better than winning any race. It feels a million times better than nailing a difficult trick. It’s… Langa had never felt that until now. He feels light and breathless and happy. So happy. The happiest.

Langa has to bite the inside of his cheek, ducking his head down and resisting the urge to blurt out to Reki that he loves him. He can’t blurt that out, not yet. Maybe next week. Maybe in a month. Maybe tomorrow. But not yet. One step at a time. So he contents himself with a smile that starts hurting his cheeks. He’s never smiled this big before.

Langa isn’t sure what all of this means, if they’re boyfriends or not, but he knows Reki likes him. Reki likes him and they’re holding hands, fingers intertwined as Reki is pulling Langa off the ground. Langa isn’t sure where they stand now, more than friends, not quite in a relationship, but they will talk about that later. They’ll talk about it when it’s just them, in the quiet of their homes. They will talk about them when they’ll be free to giggle like fools, embarrassed and flushed, when there won’t be anyone to interrupt them.

For now, Langa will have to do with this, Reki’s hand in his as he drags Langa back to their friends.

Miya sidesteps behind Joe as soon as he sees Reki and Langa coming up to him. He looks unsure and pouty, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his hood and hair falling over his eyes. It’s in those moments that Langa realizes how young Miya is compared to him. It’s in these moments that he realizes that Miya is barely a teenager and he’s almost an adult. Langa isn’t mad at Miya, but Miya might not know that. Miya might not be old enough to truly, fully realize that he is allowed to mess up from time to time. Especially not when he’s constantly pressured to be the best at everything he does.

Reki’s hand reaches out to the boy, pushing his hood off to ruffle his hair. Langa watches the interaction between the two. He watches Miya’s eyes widen, gapping a little at Reki before pulling his hood back on and huffing. He watches Reki grin at the boy, reminding him of their beef. He watches as Miya relaxes, stepping away from Joe. And he watches Joe and Cherry exchange looks, words that don’t need to be said for them to understand each other. Langa doesn’t understand them, but he knows it’s nothing bad.

Reki bounces from foot to foot, shaking his whole body to relax while Miya stretches his legs and rolls his shoulders back. They both look pumped, ready to take the other down. Their eyes are bright as they look around, watching the people gather around once more. Langa knows this will be a good race. He knows that neither one will go easy on the other.

It takes a few minutes, but the crowd finally gathers around the starting line. It’s almost time to start, electricity fizzling through the air. Reki versus Miya. Two amazing skaters are about to go head-to-head. No one wants to miss that, even if it is a little later than it was supposed to.

Reki bounces up to Langa, his palms sliding down Langa’s arms until they’re flush against his, their fingers locking together. Reki is grinning, bright and warm and sunny. Reki is grinning, crooked front teeth and beautiful. Langa can’t help but smile back at him.

“It’s almost time.”

Langa nods. “You’re going to do amazing, Reki.”

“Hey, Langa?” Langa hums as Reki begins to swing their arms between them, hands still clasped together. Dusty rose colors his cheeks. “Can you say it again? Please?”

Langa furrows his eyebrows, his head tilting ever so slightly. “Say what?”

“You know! You know… the thing?”

Oh. It’s hard not letting the laughter bubbling inside escape from his lips. If he wasn’t already in love, Langa definitely is now. How can he not when Reki is looking like that, chewing on his lip as he glances away, shifting from foot to foot? How can he not be in love with this ray of sunshine?

Langa isn’t sure what prompts him to act the way he does, but he doesn’t regret it. He doesn’t regret tugging Reki closer, causing him to stumble until their bodies are flush against each other. He doesn’t regret pressing a kiss to Reki’s warm cheek. He doesn’t regret the whispers that break from his lips.

“Good luck, Sunshine. Win this one, for me.”

43 notes · View notes

jenanigans1207 · 3 years

Text

Lonely with Me |Renga|

Okay so I binged all 8 eps of Sk8 today. And like, I know ep 8 is already out but if I had started watching last week, this is the fic I would have written to help myself cope with the tragedy that was ep 7. And I decided that I want to write it anyways because I still have a lot of feelings about it. So, I hope you enjoy!

-- x

It wasn’t supposed to rain today, but Reki doesn’t care.

The rain patters to the ground around him, drowning out the sound of his ragged breathing, his broken heartbeats. It trickles down his back, across his face, it feels like tears. It wasn’t supposed to rain, but Reki thinks there’s some sort of ironic humor in the universe, some sort of sick joke that he has to endure as he walks away from his best friend, head bowed as his shattered heart somehow finds a way to break a little more with every step.

At this point, he’s already drenched to the bone anyways, the water sloshing in his shoes with each slowing step. His house is still a few streets away and the lamps are the only light he has to guide him there. And he should be going home, he has every reason to go home, but he finds that his feet stop moving of their own accord. He tries to breathe in the cool air of the rain, tries to feel the dampness against his cheek and think of it as refreshing. It doesn’t work.

Because the only thing he’s actually thinking about is Langa and the way he didn’t follow.

Reki walked away and Langa— Langa just let him go.

Langa, who stopped him from doing reckless things. Langa who tried to nurse him back to health when he was broken. Langa who had never let Reki get too far away, who had always reached out for him, circled back for him, sought him out in a crowd. Langa, who seemed to always hear Reki, even when he wasn’t speaking, who seemed to understand the language of Reki’s soul and managed to read between the lines. Langa, who Reki trusted more than anyone else, who Reki needed in his life, wanted in his life. Langa just let him walk away like he wasn’t just one gentle breeze away from falling apart completely.

Did Langa not see the way he was hurting, not hear the barbs laced into all of his words? For all that Langa had always been good at understanding what Reki really meant, he didn’t seem able to figure it out tonight. He’d just stared wide-eyed at Reki’s back as he’d stomped away through the puddles, his feelings washing away from the space between the two of them, drowned out a little more with every raindrop that seems to punctuate their growing distance.

He tries not to think about it, but his head is an echo chamber, replaying his words over and over again. Replaying Langa’s silence on loop until it drives him absolutely insane. What he needs is to get away from it all, to get home, to lock himself in his room. Reki needs to bury his face in a pillow and block out the rest of the world, not sit outside in the rain and catch his death.

Reki slumps to the ground anyways, pressing his back against the stone wall and dropping his forehead against his knees. He’d been fighting the weight of this for days, watching as Langa got further and further ahead of him. It had been a hard battle but at least then he’d been treading water, managing to somehow stay afloat despite it all. He had been able to put his fear of being left behind away and had been excited for his friend. But now— now he was drowning from it, the weight pulling him straight to the depths of the ocean with no hope of escaping. Reki may be good at skateboarding but it turns out he’s terrible at swimming and even worse at dealing with these feelings. The light of the surface is so far away now, he can’t even see it.

Logic told him that he should be happy for his friend. And he was, of course he was. Langa was brilliant and watching him skate was magical. It had been since the very first time Reki had seen him take on the S. Hell, it had been magical before that. From the first moment Langa stepped foot on Reki’s skateboard, only to fall flat on his back less than a second later, Reki had been enthralled. There was something about the way Langa moved on a skateboard, something about the way he made the sport his own— it was captivating, breathtaking, impossible to look away from. Everyone saw it— Snow had risen to the tip of everyone’s tongue lately, a name thrown around casually as if people knew him.

But they didn’t know him, not the way Reki did. They weren’t used to watching him practice skating, they hadn’t seen him start at the bottom. They had never seen his face as he’d hit the ground after his hundredth failed attempt at a trick, only to watch it harden back into determination as he got up to try it again. They didn’t know what his laugh sounded like, or the way he brushed his hair out of his face, they didn’t know what he looked like at the end of a long night, blinking the sleep away. They knew Snow, but Reki knew Langa. He knew the touch of Langa’s hand around his wrist as he shook his head with finality, cutting off some silly idea before Reki could even finish forming it. He knew the smile that Langa reserved only for when he nailed a new skill he’d been practicing.

He knew what it was like to have Langa nestled inside of his chest, right up against his heart. He was the only person Langa read like an open book, the only one Langa protected. Reki still remembered the look on Langa’s face after his beef with Adam, the way Langa’s expression had switched from worry to fury in such a quick second that Reki would’ve missed it if he’d blinked. He knew Langa as well as he knew himself because Langa was his best friend, his most important person. Langa was the person he shared his passion with, the one who listened to him as he rattled on and on about everything skating related.

Langa was the one he had left behind in the rain. The one who’d done nothing but watch him go.

God. This wasn’t supposed to hurt so bad.

The worst part was that there was nobody to blame. He couldn’t possibly be mad at Langa for being a genius— it wasn’t like Langa had chosen that. It wasn’t even like Langa had purposely wielded it against him. All Langa had been doing this time was having fun, that was clear in the look in his eyes every time he stepped onto his board. He’d been finding his place in this new world that he was suddenly thrust into, finding a way to express himself through all the things he’d been through. He was finding something to be passionate about again, something to give him back a piece of himself that he’d felt like he’d lost. He loved skating as much as he had loved snowboarding and Reki would never take that away from him. It came to Langa as natural as breathing by now and that was something Reki could be jealous of, but he couldn’t blame Langa for it.

He couldn’t blame himself either, though, not really. Because that would make it better. If the fact of the matter was just that he hadn’t tried hard enough, hadn’t put in the hours practicing— if the truth was that he was a coward, that he scared easily and didn’t have the guts for this, well that was something he could face. More than that, it was something he could fix. He could put it more time practicing, he could study the other skaters with more dedication, he could work on facing his fears. If it was his fault, he could do something about it, could manage to close the gap between him and Langa, even if just marginally. But that wasn’t the truth. Reki loved skating, too. Reki had been skating for nearly as long as Langa had been snowboarding, He had put in years, numerous broken bones and a lot of sleepless nights. He had watched video after video online, studied all the top skaters at the S, he’d put in the work and even when he didn’t see progress as fast as he would have liked to, he put in more work.

There wasn’t anything Reki could do that he hadn’t already been doing, There wasn’t anything that would allow him to catch back up to Langa.

And maybe that’s why it actually hurt so bad. Because the fact of the matter, the one Reki had been forced to face jump after jump after jump, that graffiti star an unattainable goal mocking him from just a few feet away, was that he and Langa weren’t the same. They weren’t in the same category, they weren’t the same skill level. And the gap between them was only going to grow wider. Because no matter how many times Reki made that same jump, no matter how many techniques he tried, he simply couldn’t reach any higher. And yet, it seemed like Langa got a little closer to the stars every time his feet touched his deck.

Pretty soon Langa would be so far away that he’d be nothing but a brilliant speck of light for Reki to admire from afar. He’d be nothing but fond memories of a time Reki had found his best friend, the person who fit the edges of his soul with perfect ease. He would watch Langa rise in the ranks and he would think of these months they spent together, learning to speak each other’s language, to meet each other in the middle. He would remember Langa’s laugh, the way he would duck his head as if it could somehow hide the melodic sound. And then he would think about how he’d lost all of that, how it had been just enough to whet his appetite before it had been ripped away from him, forever leaving a Langa-shaped hole in his heart.

And it was true that Langa hadn’t left Reki behind— yet. So far, Langa always came back for Reki, always glanced over his shoulder to make sure Reki was still there. Whenever he accomplished something new, Reki was the first person he showed, the approval he sought. But Reki had seen him skate against Adam, had seen the way he’d effortlessly flipped straight over Adam’s hug, like it was nothing. Like it was the only obvious thing he could have done. He saw the way Langa wanted more, craved for something further ahead of him. And if Reki was behind him already, there was no way he would ever be able to help Langa satisfy that craving.

It was really only a matter of time before Langa left Reki behind.

Or, it was a matter of time before Langa should leave Reki behind if he wanted to keep advancing and growing. Just as these feelings of bitterness had been weighing Reki down, he knew that he was starting to way Langa down. Langa could never get better if he kept skating with Reki, kept trying to match Reki’s pace instead of setting his own. He couldn’t develop his skill any further by Reki’s side and even though that cut, even though it hurt worse than every broken bone that Reki had ever had, stung worse than all of the road rash he’d acquired over the years, he didn’t want to be the reason Langa was stuck. Just like he didn’t want Langa to get hurt because of him, he didn’t want Langa to give up his potential, either. Langa was destined to shine and Reki was casting a shadow over his brilliant light.

So as much as it hurt, as terribly as it sucked— and it did, oh it did— Reki knew that he had to break free from Langa. He knew that he had to put the space between them, to sever the tie that Langa was using to drag him along. Because Langa was— well, he was Langa.

He was quiet, but genuinely interested in everything Reki had to say. He was soft spoken but the things he did say were brilliant. He added great insight. He was protective, fierce—

Reki pulled his knees closer to his chest.

He needed to stop thinking like this. He needed to haul himself off the ground and finish dragging his sorry ass home. He needed to collapse, maybe pretend to be sick tomorrow so he could lay in bed all day. He needed to do something because right now he was sitting in one spot, an easy target for all the emotions he had been trying so desperately to avoid. He didn’t think he could outrun them, not anymore, but he ought to at least try.

Somewhere in the distance, the sound of water starts to shift. It takes Reki a few seconds to realize that he’s hearing more than just raindrops now, he’s hearing a set of footsteps in the puddles. He considers for a moment trying to get up now, but whichever other poor soul is out in this rain has already seen him and really, he still doesn’t have the will to do anything but stay exactly where he is. If he’s lucky, the person will just pass him right on by, biting back whatever questions they have for a young boy sitting in the rain with his head bowed.

“Reki.” The sound of Langa’s voice is almost enough to make Reki jump right out of his skin. “You’re going to get sick if you keep sitting there.”

“So?” Reki manages to mumble, pressing his forehead firmer against his knees.

Langa sighs and Reki refuses to look up at him, refuses to see the way the lights are reflecting in his eyes, the way his longer hair curls gently at the back of his head. Reki refuses to look up and acknowledge that Langa had actually come after him in the end.

He refuses to look at Langa because if he does, he’ll say all the things he doesn’t want Langa to know.

He doesn’t look at Langa, because if he does, he’ll tell Langa that he doesn’t want him to go, that he wants to keep skating with him for as long as Langa will let him. He’ll tell Langa that he misses him, even if he’s only two feet away. He’ll tell Langa all these things that will become a burden on Langa because he’s too gentle to leave Reki behind, even if he needs to. So it’s up to Reki to cut the ties for his sake and he can’t do that if he sees Langa standing over him in the rain.

“Reki.” Langa repeats, but this time it’s so quiet, it’s almost drowned out by the rain entirely. When Reki doesn’t respond, doesn’t shift even a little bit, Langa steps closer, closer, closer and then he’s sitting down next to Reki, pressing his own back against the stone wall, his shoulder brushing Reki’s in the process.

For a moment, they just sit side by side like this, close enough that Reki can just feel the warmth of Langa’s skin despite the rain that still cascades down on them. They sit in the silence of the late night, no other people daring to be out in weather such as this. It’s almost peaceful, honestly, As peaceful as something can be when Reki is trying to nurse the jagged edges of a broken heart so they don’t get the chance to cut him any deeper.

Reki thinks that Langa is leaving it up to him to talk, to start whatever conversation they’re supposed to be having, It’s a fair thing for Langa to do, considering that Reki is the one who walked away, the one who is clearly carrying some burden— a burden that he only allowed Langa to see a glimpse of. It’s only reasonable to assume that Reki would have more to say after that, but he really doesn’t.

And then Langa shifts next to him, turning so that he’s facing Reki. Reki still isn’t looking at him, but he can see Langa’s legs and feet as he moves and then suddenly there’s a warm hand on his shoulder and it’s enough to jolt Reki into at least lifting his head.

He really shouldn’t have because Langa looks just as broken as Reki feels, his wet hair falling limp around his face, the longer edges of his hair kissing his shoulders along with the raindrops. He looks like he’s in pain and Reki’s immediate reaction is to want to fix it, even though he’s the cause of it.

This really became quite the mess.

“I want to skate with you.” Langa says after a moment, the words almost choked, as if he can barely get them out. “I want to beat Adam, but I want to skate with you.”

And there really is a difference there, Reki knows. He can feel it in the way Langa emphasizes the words. Beating Adam, that’s a one time thing. But skating together? That’s— that’s everything. That’s daily, nightly, forever. That’s the exact thing that Reki has unintentionally fallen in love with. Skating together is laughing together, it’s continuing to speak each other’s language. Skating together means more of Langa’s hands as he bandages up Reki’s newest injury, more chances to watch Langa’s eyes light up as he masters something new. Skating together is continuing to bare their souls to each other, meeting each other in the middle.

Langa doesn’t want to compete with Reki, that’s what he’s saying. He wants to share this with Reki, for it to be something they both hold dear. Langa wants to surpass Adam and leave him in the dust, but he wants to keep Reki at his side.

“You’re better than I am.” Reki responds feebly, glancing down to where Langa’s foot is almost touching his. “You should go on ahead.”

For a moment, Langa seems to chew on his response, thinking of how to properly say whatever words are all jumbled up in his mind. Reki has seen him do it before and, apparently, if Langa gets his way, he’ll see him do it again in the future.

“I don’t skate to be good.” Langa finally says. “I skate to have fun. And I have fun skating with you.”

“You have fun skating with Adam, too.” Reki replies. He doesn’t want to say these words, doesn’t want to keep digging the knife deeper into his own heart, but he tries to anyways. “You can keep having fun skating with Adam because he’ll keep challenging you.”

“No.”

It’s all Langa says before there’s a set of arms enveloping Reki, pulling him flush into Langa’s soaking wet body. Reki falls into him, his arms finally letting go of his legs as he allows himself a brief moment to just be held by Langa. And then, after a few seconds tick by, he wraps his own arms back around Langa, his hands fisting in the back of Langa’s shirt as he pulls him closer, pressing his face into Langa’s shoulder.

Langa’s hold is firm and unyielding as he buries his own face in the hair on top of Reki’s head. They don’t speak, not for a long time, but Langa’s always been good at hearing what’s inside Reki’s heart, even if Reki hasn’t tried putting it into words. And the longer he remains in Langa’s embrace, the more he realizes that he, too, can read into the depths of Langa’s heart. He can feel it in the way Langa smooths a hand down his back, the desperation for things to not end here. He can hear it in Langa’s rattling breaths, that he’s going to keep fighting for this, that he’s not going to just let Reki walk away again.

“I’m sorry—“ Reki starts to say, but his apology is cut short by Langa pulling away from him. Not far— not far at all, in fact. He’s so close, his blue eyes sparkling in a way that Reki has never seen before.

Their arms are still wrapped around each other as their gazes lock and there seems to be something filling the air besides the rain suddenly. Reki tries to swallow, to form the rest of his apology, to explain to Langa that he’s just afraid of losing the one thing that matters to him more than anything else. He wants to tell Langa that losing him will hurt worse than losing his friend in the past and that he’s handled it completely the wrong way but his intentions were good and he just wanted Langa to shine—

But before any of the words can find their way past the lump in his throat, Langa is leaning in and Reki can’t do anything but lean in, too, his eyes fluttering as the feeling between them grows to an almost unbearable level. They’re close, so close, painfully close—

The wall of water that drenches them is somehow cold, despite the fact that they were both already dripping wet. Reki makes some sort of startled noise and shoots backwards, trying to brush his hair out of his face. Langa is in the same spot, arms out to the side as he tries to shake some of the extra water off, but there’s a smile on his face. The driver of the car that had drenched them yells some sort of apology out of their window before continuing onwards. Reki, too stunned to have any idea what to do, turns to Langa only to see his shoulders shaking with laughter.

And then suddenly he’s laughing out loud, throwing his head back as he tucks his wet hair behind his ears and Reki finds that he’s laughing too. He’s laughing and his ribs and lungs are burning and it feels good and warm against the cold of the evening, it’s a balm against the storm of emotions that has only just started to be quelled inside of him.

“I’m sorry,” He says to Langa again, after they’ve finally gotten their laughter back under control. He knows Langa doesn’t need an apology, but he deserves one. “I was just— feeling left behind and lonely.”

“Reki, I’ll never leave you behind.” Langa says with the same conviction that he had promised Reki that he wouldn’t give up skateboarding, even if he got seriously injured. He says it with so much feeling that Reki knows it’s more than a promise, it's a guarantee.

Even though he still doesn’t like Langa going up against Adam again, even though he worries for Langa’s safety and still knows that he’s going to have bouts of loneliness as he tries desperately to close this gap between them, as he chases in Langa’s shadow, he knows that he’s going to have Langa by his side through it all. And maybe being lonely isn't terrible if he has someone to be lonely with.

Reki stands up finally, tucking his skateboard under one arm and extending his other hand to Langa. “Whatever you say mister hot shot, Snow.”

Langa takes his hand with a dramatic roll of his eyes and allows Reki to haul him to his feet. “If you act like that, maybe I will leave you behind.”

Or maybe, Reki thinks as Langa falls in step next to him as they head towards his house together, an unspoken agreement to dry off passing between them, he won’t be lonely at all.

8 notes · View notes