Archive of Our Own ^beta

Langa Hasegawa has always liked the cold. 

When they meet him, most people think Langa’s going to be cold, probably because he’s pale and kind of lanky, or maybe because he’s so quiet, but the truth is that Langa’s skin has always run warm, which is why he can stay out here on the slopes longer than anyone else. The cold brings the life back into his fingertips, it makes him straighten up with a rush of adrenaline, and he hugs his board under his arm, already planning all the slopes he’s going to run before training today. He’s so focused on the cold and the slopes and the snowboarding that, in typical Langa fashion, he almost misses the shouts of one of his fellow instructors. 

“Hasegawa!” 

Langa startles, glancing over. The guy points to the ski hat pulled over his own head. 

“Where’s your hat, Hasegawa? Saw you wearing it this morning.”

“Oh,” says Langa, distracted, putting his hand up to his head. Sure enough, he can feel the snow flurries caught in his hair, and he frowns a little, trying to think what could have happened to his hat. He was definitely wearing it this morning. His mom handed it to him before he left for the mountain, because it’s a hat she bought him herself, and Langa doesn’t like to lose the things his mom gives him. He must have dropped it in the lodge, he thinks, so he turns around, still frowning to himself as he heads back inside. 

It’s the beginning of the skiing season, and pretty soon the students are going to start trickling into the small, cozy lodge alongside the regulars and the instructors. It’s Langa’s first winter as a snowboarding instructor instead of a regular, and he’s slightly intimidated by the change, mostly because Langa’s not very good at talking to people, so he has no idea how he’s going to explain snowboarding to his students during their lessons. Maybe he can just sort of — show them, he thinks, and the thought comforts him a little as he moves around the crowded couches and the ski counters, searching for his hat. It’s not in the pro room where they do their morning training meetings, and it’s not in the back hallway with the rumbling heaters and spare boards, and it’s not in the cafe area with Langa’s favorite hot cocoa, and it’s not — 

Oh. 

His eyes snag on the familiar pom-pom of the hat, bobbing up and down like a nod from behind the rich wood of the main counter. 

Langa pauses, stopping behind one of the Christmas trees the lodge has been tucking into the corners. What — what’s he supposed to do now? It looks like somebody’s wearing the hat, and Langa’s not really prepared to have  a confrontation right now, even though his mom bought him the hat, and it’s woolen and handmade and pretty warm. But maybe the somebody is nice — Langa hopes so.  His mom has been saying he needs more friends, anyway, so before he can talk himself out of it, Langa tucks his hands into his pockets and squeezes around the counter. 

Somebody is wearing the hat, a redheaded somebody, a laughing somebody with flushed cheeks and a bandaged chin, sitting on the floor surrounded by a pile of lost-and-found coats and the senior ski instructor, and Langa’s stomach gives a sudden flip. 

Oh. That’s — that’s a nice laugh.

“Hasegawa!” says the senior ski instructor, and the redheaded guy chokes on another laugh, his face warm and his eyes bright as he grins up at Langa. He has a nice smile, too, with a gap between his front teeth and deep, deep dimples, and Langa’s stomach gives another flip.

“Hey, man!” says the redheaded guy. “You lose something?” 

He gestures to the coats around him, grinning kind of eagerly like he thinks Langa’s come to the lost-and-found to search through the snow gear with him, and Langa can’t think of anything to say, because for some reason he feels like he’s being swept away by the bright smile sparkling in the guy’s eyes. Nobody’s ever smiled at Langa like that, invitingly, like they’ve known each other for years, and then the senior instructor claps Langa on the shoulder, rattling him back to life. 

“Hasegawa,” the senior instructor says, squeezing his shoulder. “This is your new instructing partner, Reki.” 

Reki brightens up immediately. “Oh! Dude, dude, hi, I had no idea it was you!” He scrambles to his feet, the coats falling in a messy heap around him, and belatedly Langa remembers, oh yeah, he’s supposed to meet his snowboarding partner today, the other newbie who’s going to be teaching with him for his first season here, the person who’s going to share clipboards and a cubby with him and help him out while they try to wrangle their students down the slopes. To be honest, Langa had been trying to put the whole partnership thing out of his mind, because he hasn’t really snowboarded with anyone since his dad, but the worst of his nerves start to melt when Reki grins sheepishly at him, tugging the hat down further over his curls. “Sorry you had to meet me like this, dude, I realized as soon as I got here that I don’t even have all the right winter gear!” he says. “Crazy, right? I knew I was forgetting something important, I just knew it, I was wracking my brain so hard this morning trying to remember, but I couldn’t figure it out so finally I just gave up and headed up here and, well, here I am!” 

He sounds kinda breathless when he’s done, his voice kinda scratchy and clumsy over some of the English syllables, but Langa feels his shoulders relaxing as he nods, because, oh. This guy is a talker. Langa normally doesn’t like talkers that much, but somehow it’s different with this guy, because he doesn’t seem to expect Langa to come up with anything interesting to say in response, he just takes a hasty breath and a grin and launches right back into his rambling.

“It’s my first winter living up here, I’ve visited a couple of times before but I never really stayed for more than a few weeks, and dude! I forgot how cold it gets, y’know? My driveway was totally snowed in this morning, I was breaking my back trying to shovel the whole thing just so I could get the car out of the garage! D’you live around here? Hah, I mean, I guess you must, right? My family and me are on Mountain Loop, right by the town square.”

“I live over there, too,” says Langa, and Reki bounces on the balls of his feet, grinning even more broadly. 

“Really?” he says. “Dude, that’s sweet! Maybe we can carpool or something! Man, it’s like it was meant to be.” 

The senior instructor snorts, heading around the counter in search of somebody else, but Langa can feel himself smiling back at Reki, a little awkwardly, something warm starting to unfurl in his chest. He’s never believed in things like fate before, but Reki’s flushed, grinning face feels like the sting of the cold air when Langa’s rushing down the slopes, kind of exhilarating. “Yeah,” says Langa, and Reki grins, punching his shoulder. 

“How long have you lived up here, man? Long enough to get used to the weather, I guess, huh?”

Langa nods. “My whole life.” 

“By the mountains and everything?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Seriously? That’s sweet, dude!” Reki’s bouncing on the balls of his feet again. “I bet you’ve been snowboarding a long time too, then, right?” 

Langa nods again. “Since I was two.” 

Reki laughs. His whole face lights up when he does that, and he laughs with his whole body, his shoulders shaking so Langa doesn’t have to struggle to read his emotions, the way he sometimes does because he has a hard time with body language. The warm thung unfurls even further when Reki says,

“So you were a child prodigy!” 

and normally Langa would probably deny it because his mom says it’s not polite to brag, but something about Reki makes him pause — something about Reki makes him want to tell the truth. “Something like that,” he admits, and Reki beams at him. 

“Man,” he says, the smile so obvious in his voice even though he’s still fumbling over the language a little. “I landed the best partner in the whole place, huh?” 

Langa’s gotten a lot of compliments in his life, but somehow none of them have ever managed to make him feel warm in the face until now. It’s something about Reki’s earnest sincerity, the way he’s so open and friendly like he has no reservations at all about Langa’s stiff shoulders and short, sometimes awkward sentences, like even if there was a whole lineup of snowboarding instructors to choose from, Reki would still choose Langa. 

They hardly know each other, but Langa thinks he would choose Reki, too. 

And then, because he doesn’t know what else to say, he says, “You’re wearing my hat, Reki.” 

Reki freezes, then scrambles to stand up straighter, grabbing at the pom-pom on top of the hat. His cheeks go kind of red. “I — crap, really?” 

Langa nods, and Reki tugs the hat off his head, looking flustered, his hair sticking up in all directions. It’s even curlier than Langa thought, a realization that makes his stomach do another funny squeeze as Reki tries to smooth down the sweaty curls, clearing his throat. 

“Sorry, dude,” he says, sounding kind of sheepish. “I found it on the ground when I was coming in and I thought it was part of the lost-and-found, y’know? Crap, I’m sorry. You want me to wash it for you?” 

Langa shakes his head. “You can keep it, Reki.” 

Reki’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?” 

Langa nods, shifting his weight, feeling the slightest bit flustered too, for some reason. He’s not really sure why he said that, except that he kind of likes how the hat looks on Reki, because the brown knit of the wool brings out the brown of Reki’s eyes, and the pattern’s the same familiar pattern Nanako always buys, and somehow the maple leaf on the front makes Reki look like he was meant to be a part of Langa’s life all along.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Langa explains, and Reki laughs again, his cheeks still rosy as he tugs the hat back over his tangled, curly hair. 

“Good to know!” he says, and then offers Langa a dap, and when Langa clumsily bumps their fists together, he feels that tingling feeling go through his heart, the same way he feels when he’s balancing at the top of the mountain on his board. Reki grins at him, and his voice is kinda soft when he adds, “Thanks, man. Y’know, I think we’re gonna make a good team.” 

And Langa can’t help smiling back, nodding, because he’s not sure why, but he thinks so, too. 

As it turns out, they do make a good team. 

Reki’s from Okinawa, which Langa figures out on the first day when Reki’s rambling about his life story, telling Langa where he grew up (Naha) and how many sisters he has (three) and why they moved to Canada (his mom’s job). Reki’s twenty-two, like Langa, but he still lives at home, just like Langa, who doesn’t see the point of moving out when he and his mom have a nice, comfortable home on Mountain Loop where they eat dinner together every night. Reki wants to stay and help his mom out, too, he explains, and Langa nods along, feeling more and more at home with Reki with every minute that passes. 

They spend the first couple of days finishing up their training and learning how to work with each other, and those days go by in a blur of Reki, Reki, Reki, Reki who chugs energy drinks in the morning instead of coffee and grins at Langa as he rubs his mouth, Reki who wears Langa’s hat and a too-small, multicolored coat he scavenged from the lost-and-found, Reki who speaks Japanese with Langa and adorably-accented English with everyone else, Reki who does his ollies funny like he’s trying to leap right off the board, Reki who bumps Langa’s arm in the locker room and puts his hands right on Langa’s shoulders, pressing his thumbs into the knots and explaining how Langa should massage the stress out of his muscles more often, Reki who carries around a first-aid kit in his little fanny pack and pokes his tongue out if anyone tries to make fun of him, Reki who skids recklessly down the mountain with a whoop that rivals the adrenaline glowing in Langa’s soul as he races after him, Reki who snuggles with Langa for warmth when they’re listening to the morning snow report in the pro room, Reki who laughs a lot and talks even more, Reki who shows Langa snowboarding videos while he eats his bento at lunch and always, always, always shares his food with Langa. 

They make a good team. 

They make a good team, but Langa’s still kind of nervous on the day they’re thrown headfirst into instructing, because he’s still not sure how well he’s going to handle talking to a group full of strangers. Reki finds him in the locker room a couple minutes before they’re supposed to head out to their lesson, and he must see the stress in Langa’s furrowed forehead, because he plops down next to him and bumps their knees together. 

“We’re gonna do great, partner,” he says, grinning so Langa can see the gap between his teeth, and Langa swallows, partly because he’s anxious and a little sweaty, but also because Reki always says that word in English, partner, and Langa’s not sure he fully understands the implications of it. “Hey, I lost my scarf on the slopes yesterday. You think I have time to run to the lost-and-found before our students arrive?” 

Langa shakes his head, a little tongue-tied, and says, “You can borrow mine, Reki.” 

“Yeah?” 

Langa nods. “I don’t really get cold,” he explains, unraveling his scarf and handing it to Reki, who wraps it around his own neck and grins, poking his tongue between his teeth. 

“Thanks, man,” he says. “I guess it works out, ‘cause I’m cold all the time, y’know? Even in Okinawa I was always wearing all these layers, you shoulda seen me. Okay! Let’s head out there, okay?” 

He stands up, offering Langa his hand, and even though Langa obviously doesn’t need Reki’s help standing up from a locker room bench, he takes his hand anyway. Reki’s palm is also sweaty, which makes Langa feel better about himself, and his stomach gives a warm squeeze at the way Reki tugs the scarf up over his nose and mouth, eyes twinkling so Langa can still see his smile. 

He likes Reki wearing his clothes. 

It’s kind of a weird thought, so Langa tries to shake it off, and then they’re outside and he’s been assaulted by a million different sounds and colors and people anyway, so he forgets all about everything for a while, even his nerves. And it turns out he probably didn’t need to be so nervous, after all, because Reki does almost all of the talking when they’re in front of their students, and after they find their footing in the first couple of lessons, the rest of the week rushes by in a whirlwind of lessons and Reki’s laughter. 

They’re a good team. They’re a good team, because Langa’s better at the actual technical skills of snowboarding, and Reki’s way better at explaining things, so Langa shows the students the tricks and then Reki breaks them down, step-by-step, into words that actually make sense, unlike Langa, who usually just parrots out of the instruction manual if the students ask him questions. And Reki’s hands-on, too — he picks up people’s arms in their puffy coats and moves them into the right positions, and he hurries from person to person, laughing and telling jokes that aren’t really funny in English, and Langa — Langa’s kind of enthralled by him. Sometimes he even feels like one of the students himself, because he just finds what Reki’s saying so interesting, but then Reki’ll hurry back to his side and jostle his shoulder and say, 

“Okay, Langa, show us how it’s done!” 

and Langa will startle and remember he’s not a student at all, he’s Reki’s partner, and this warm glow forms in the base of his chest and stays there, during every lesson for the first couple of weeks. 

“How are you so good at this?” Langa asks one day near the end of November, when they’re pulling off their snowboarding gear in the pro room after the lifts are closed for the day. Reki pops his head up, his hands still holding onto his shoelaces. 

“What? Unlacing my boots?” 

“No,” says Langa, and then he fumbles a little for the words, because he knows what he wants to say, but he’s not sure exactly how to say it. “The…with the students.”

Reki hums in response, running a hand through his damp hair and making the curls stand up all over the place, which makes Langa’s hands feel kind of sweaty for some reason. “You mean teaching?” 

“Yeah,” says Langa, and Reki grins again, bouncing up and kicking out his feet. 

“I just like helping people learn stuff!” he says. “I taught my baby sisters how to skateboard when they were little, they were super fast learners! Well, not at first, ‘cause they were only three, but it was still fun. Have I told you about my baby sisters? They’re seven now, and they keep trying to bug me to buy them their own skis for Christmas, except I don’t know how to ski, and I can’t have my baby sisters being better than me at something, right, so now I have to learn how to ski, and…” 

And Reki keeps rambling as they pack up their stuff, pulling on their street shoes and grabbing their phones off the chargers, and then, before they leave the pro room, he stops his story and nudges Langa’s arm. 

“Hey,” he says, his eyes starting to sparkle again as he grins into Langa’s scarf. “My mom took my sisters on a spa day today, so I’m kinda free for the night. You wanna grab food in town somewhere? I haven’t really had a chance to explore the places around here very much.” 

Langa nods, and as if on cue, his stomach growls. Reki laughs. 

“I guess that’s a yes, huh?” 

“Yes,” says Langa, slightly embarrassed, but not really, because it’s Reki and Reki does way more embarrassing stuff every day, like yelling boo-yah! whenever he tosses anything into the trash. Langa likes him, though, and he likes hanging out with him, and something excited squirms in his stomach at the thought of getting food with him and getting to learn even more about Reki’s life. “Will you finish telling me the story, Reki?” 

Reki laughs again, his cheeks full of color, and nods, and then they’re heading out into the cold, down toward the lights of the ski town below. 

They end up in a cozy sort of piano bar, even though neither of them drink. Reki laughs when he figures out, elbowing Langa after Langa admits that alcohol makes him really sleepy. “I guess it’s kinda pointless for us to be here, huh?” Reki says. “But hey, I hear the food’s good.” 

And they’re already tucked into a booth, coats piled up on the seats next to them, and Reki still has Langa’s scarf draped around his neck, and he looks warm in the candlelight, so Langa nods. He wants to stay. “I like piano music,” he says, and Reki leans forward on his elbows, grinning. 

“Yeah?” 

Langa nods again. “I like that there are no words.” 

Reki laughs again, rubbing his neck. “Really? Huh, I never thought of that. Doesn’t it get kinda boring?” 

Langa shrugs. “I think it’s relaxing.” 

Reki hums to himself, considering. He’s bouncing his knees underneath the table, constantly glancing around them, at the bar, at the piano, up at the ceiling, like he’s taking everything in, and for some reason Langa thinks watching him is relaxing, too. It feels like Reki’s taking stock of everything, planning for whatever social situation’s about to happen, which means Langa doesn’t have to, and he feels that warmth spreading through his chest again, like safety, the way he always feels around Reki. 

“I like when there are words,” Reki admits, which makes sense to Langa, because Reki loves words. He nods. 

“Of course you do.” 

“Hey!” Reki scrambles up, jostling Langa’s feet underneath the table. “Is that a jab about how I talk too much?” 

“No,” says Langa quickly, because he doesn’t think Reki talks too much. If anything, Langa would listen to him talk even more than he already does, because every time Reki drops him off at home and says Goodnight, Langa! Langa always feels this small pang in his chest, like he hasn’t had enough time with Reki, even though they spent the whole day together. Reki always rambles about all the most interesting things, and Langa tries to file the words away so he can remember them even when they’re not together, because he wants to carry at least a small piece of Reki around with him. For some reason that makes him feel sweaty again, and he tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. “I don’t think you talk too much, Reki,” he says, and then, to make sure Reki understands, he adds, “I like it.” 

Reki’s cheeks go kind of red. “I — really? You’re not just saying that?” 

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Langa reminds him, and Reki puffs a breath, rubbing at the side of his neck sheepishly. 

“I guess that’s true!” he says, his knees bouncing underneath the table, boots bumping against Langa’s ankles. “Okay, well, just, if I’m ever talking your ear off feel free to tell me, okay? Like, I won’t be offended, pinky swear.” 

“That will never happen, Reki,” Langa says. “I like hearing what you have to say.” 

Reki huffs a laugh, his cheeks flushing even redder, and he tugs his scarf up to scrub at his face like he’s trying to hide his blush from Langa. Langa watches him, rubbing his own sweaty hands on his jeans as subtly as possible, trying to figure out why Reki gets so embarrassed by compliments. It’s like he doesn’t believe them, but that doesn’t make sense, because Reki is the person most deserving of compliments in the whole world. There’s so much to compliment about him: his laugh, his easygoing nature, his talent for teaching, his smile, his casual Japanese slang, his inviting hey, dude! whenever Langa opens his car door in the frigid mornings, the way he always keeps handmade decals hanging from his rearview mirror and blankets thrown over his leather car seats, the way he always elbows Langa and grins when they’re in team meetings like he’s telling Langa a whole story just with the raise of his eyebrows, his sweaty curls mashed under Langa’s hat, his sparkling eyes, and…

…and for some reason Langa’s heart is starting to pound in his chest, his hands even sweatier than before, because he wants to tell Reki all those things and he’s not sure how, or why, or if he’s even allowed. 

Luckily Reki bounces up again and changes the subject, his cheeks still kind of red, and when the waiter comes around Reki asks what Langa wants and then orders for both of them, which Langa is grateful for. Reki’s so good to him. Wonderful, even. What did Langa ever do without Reki and his laughter and his affectionate nicknames, dude and man and airhead and even sometimes prince Langa, the last one with a grin and an eyeroll because Reki caught one of their blushing students trying to give Langa her number? What did Langa ever do without Reki bundling up in his scarf and hat and nudging his arm, looking like a piece of home that Langa never knew he was missing?

Reki’s halfway through a story about how he almost hit a moose on his first day in Canada because his car started careening on the ice (“and the moose was huge, dude, I swear it was like two whole mooses put into one!”) when their pizza arrives, and as they’re digging in, Langa remembers a question he’s been meaning to ask. “Reki,” he says, with his mouth full, and Reki snickers and kicks him under the table. 

“Finish your food first, dude.” 

Langa swallows and rubs his mouth on his napkin. “You said there’s no snow in Okinawa, right?” 

“Nope!” says Reki. “It doesn’t get cold enough there. That’s why I never learned to drive on the ice and stuff, you gotta give me some credit, dude, I was a good driver in Okinawa, it’s just when I came here I had to relearn everything, y’know?” 

Langa nods. That’s not what he was meaning to ask, even though the way Reki skids around corners in his mom’s beat-up minivan does make Langa think they’re going to die some mornings. He doesn’t really mind, if it means driving to work with Reki. “So how long have you been snowboarding?” 

Reki scrambles to sit up a little straighter, the way he always does when the conversation turns to snowboarding, maybe because he loves it just as much as Langa does. “About nine months! Since we moved here.” 

“Nine — months ?” 

Reki nods, rubbing at one of his cheeks, getting that sheepish smile on his face again. “Yeah, I couldn’t really practice before except on vacations, y’know? C’mon, cut me some slack.” 

Langa shakes his head, shocked. “That’s not what I — Reki, you’re amazing.” 

The piano music picks up, tingling into something festive and warm, and Reki’s face goes red again. “I — I, what?” he stammers.

“You’re amazing,” Langa repeats, his brain still trying to process what Reki just said. Nine months? Nine months is how long some of their students have been snowboarding, and Reki — Reki’s such a natural. He seems so at home on the slopes, pushing up his goggles to grin at Langa, scrambling up every time he bails like he’s tumbled into bushes a million times before, shaking out his limbs at the end of the day with the same satisfied exhaustion Langa feels. “You’re so good, Reki, how — how did you learn everything so quickly?” 

Reki’s face is flushed in the candlelight, but he manages a lopsided grin. “Aw,” he says. “I’m not really that good, I’m just —” 

“You’re incredible,” Langa says fervently, and Reki stumbles to a stop, clearing his throat. 

He still looks embarrassed, a splotchy blush visible underneath his scarf, but he also looks sort of pleased, bumping their boots together underneath the table. “Langa, man,” he says, his voice scratchy but kind of affectionate as he tangles their ankles together. “You don’t have to say all that, dude. I just picked it up kinda quickly ‘cause it’s similar to skateboarding, y’know? The tricks and stuff just made sense in my brain, I guess. I failed my Level 3 certification exam the first time around, though, I had to retake it. That’s why I ended up meeting you a couple days late.” 

Langa wants to say so many things. He wants to tell Reki that he’s impressive, that he’s a genius, that he’s one of the most innovative snowboarders Langa’s ever met and definitely the best instructor, and he wants to tell Reki how happy he is that they met, but somehow the words get tangled up in his throat and all that comes out is, “Really?” 

“Yeah,” says Reki, looking up again with a bashful sort of grin, propping his elbows on the table. He — he looks so good, wearing Langa’s knitted scarf looped around his neck, his skin warm and golden in the candlelight, the pleasant flush making his freckles stand out, and Langa’s heart stutters. “I figured out a lot of stuff about how the mechanics of the sport work, ‘cause I was learning everything so fast, so that’s why I decided to become an instructor. Well, and ‘cause I love teaching people.” He tangles their feet more tightly together and Langa’s heart stutters again, swelling against his ribs, that warm feeling unfurling all the way to his fingertips, and then Reki asks, “How about you? What made you wanna be an instructor?” 

Langa stumbles over his answer a little — he got his instructor certification because it felt like the obvious next step, and it’s hard to think when his head’s so full of Reki, Reki, Reki, so somehow he ends up blurting out, “My dad wanted me to.” 

Reki pauses. “Yeah?” 

Langa nods, trying to wrestle his heart back under control. “I — yeah. He taught me how to snowboard, and then he, um, he — he died, a few years ago, when I was seventeen. And for a while I stopped snowboarding, because I didn’t want to do it alone, and then when I picked it up again, I — I don’t know. I wanted to, um. To carry on his legacy, I guess.” 

Reki’s eyes go soft, and he reaches across the table, fumbling to squeeze Langa’s hand. “Really?” he says, and then clears his throat a little, squeezing again. “That sucks, man. I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” says Langa, and he swallows. “It took a while, but I think, uh. I think I’m really starting to love the sport again.” 

Reki gives him a small, sheepish kind of smile. “Yeah? That’s good.” 

Langa nods, and the piano music jingles into some of his favorite holiday music, this song about cold and snow and falling in love, and his head’s full of snowboarding, snowboarding with Reki, the way Reki laughs with glee every time they’re balanced on top of a ridge at the end of the day after the students go home, the setting sun lighting the ends of his curly hair on fire, his exhilarated grin making Langa’s heart pound just before they push off, the way he shouts Langa! whenever Langa leaps off a ramp, the way the excitement in his voice makes Langa feel alive for the first time in a long time, the way Reki laughs when he crushes him in a hug at the bottom of the slopes, smelling like snow and sweat and Langa’s scarf. 

He’s helping Langa fall in love with snowboarding again. 

“You make it fun,” Langa says, feeling a little raw with the honesty, and Reki’s eyes crinkle up at the corners as he grins, that familiar huge grin that shows off the gap between his front teeth, and he squeezes Langa’s fingers with one hand and tugs on the end of his scarf with the other, and he looks so happy and, and, and, oh. 

Langa’s — Langa’s falling in love with him, too. 

Langa’s falling in love with Reki, his snowboarding partner, his partner who speaks his home language and picks him up for work every morning and wears his clothes, his partner who laughs louder than anyone Langa’s ever met, who gives the best hugs, who says Langa like he can’t keep a smile out of his voice every time. Langa’s falling in love with him, and he swallows again, because everything makes sense now. The sweaty hands, the urge to run his fingers through Reki’s snow-damp hair, the warm feeling spreading through his heart. And then Reki squeezes his hand again and says, 

“You make it fun for me, too, dude,” 

and Langa’s heart stumbles in his chest because oh, he’s — he’s in trouble.

It’s not easy being in love with your snowboarding instruction partner. Langa, in typical Langa fashion, spends the next couple of weeks anguishing, a habit his mom always says he picked up from her. He tries to pine from afar, but it’s impossible, because by now he and Reki spend nearly every waking minute together. When they eat breakfast in the car together, Reki says stuff like, “Hey, you got a li’l something,” and rubs his thumb over the corner of Langa’s mouth, which makes Langa’s brain fuzz out for the rest of the day. When they all cram into the pro room to get their lesson assignments for the day, Reki squeezes into the same chair as Langa and doodles on the back of Langa’s hand, these little snowflakes and chibi figures on snowboards, and above them he writes, Reki+Langa, which makes Langa want to blurt out that he should draw hearts around them, too. When they’re on the slopes with the students one morning and Reki realizes aloud that whoops, he left his gloves on his bathroom counter, Langa tugs off his top layer of mittens and helps Reki pull them on, and even though Reki laughs and rubs his neck and says, “You don’t have to, dude,” Langa helps him anyway because wants to. It makes his heart thump against his ribs, standing there on the icy mountainside and holding Reki’s hands, tugging his own gloves over Reki’s calloused skin, his fingers still covered in pen ink from the doodling this morning. Langa wants to share all his clothes with Reki. Langa wants to kiss Reki. 

He wants to kiss his instructing partner, his best friend. 

So of course Langa feels like he’s going to die, because Reki’s kind of perfect, in a friendly, scrappy sort of way, and he’s also gorgeous, especially when his cheeks are flushed from the cold and he’s hugging his board to his side, his eyes sparkling like the snow. He’s usually wearing bulky winter gear when they’re together, but whenever they go grab food in town or drive around to watch the Christmas lights, Reki tugs off his jacket and hangs out in these soft, colorful hoodies that hug his arms and sometimes ride up when he stretches and laughs, and Langa’s just, he’s suffering . 

He knows Reki’s had crushes on guys before, because Reki’s mentioned it among all his other rambling, so Langa clings to a tiny shred of hope. Sometimes Reki cuddles onto the cafe couches with him during lunch and puts his legs across Langa’s lap and says, “I wanna show you this video!” and Langa tries to control his heart, but the hope settles there anyway, along with the warm thing that always thrums through his veins when he and Reki snuggle that close.

On a particularly cold Friday, after their students leave, Reki asks, “You wanna do a couple runs, just the two of us?” and points to one of the big slopes, Langa’s favorite run. Langa tucks his hands into his pockets and nods, because of course he wants to, Reki’s smile is so eager and infectious and beautiful, and Langa’s heart gives another flip, his face going warm at his own thoughts. 

“You sure you’re not too cold, Reki?” he asks, just in case, because unlike Langa, Reki always runs cold, but Reki just grins and scoffs. 

“For snowboarding with you? Never.” 

And that’s maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever told Langa, so he nods again, cheeks tingling with what’s probably a very obvious blush, and together they hurry over to the ski lift. They cram onboard, hugging the sides of the chair, and Langa can feel himself sweating underneath his coat at how closely Reki’s pressed to his side, their knees nudging together in their ski pants. Reki keeps elbowing him and giving him these grins that look like the sunset itself, his hair blowing around his face as the ski lift climbs higher and higher, and Langa tells himself he’s probably imagining the flush on Reki’s face every time the sides of their gloves accidentally brush together. 

“Dude,” Reki says as soon as they slide out of the ski lift onto the ridge of the mountain, “This is gonna be totally awesome.” 

Langa nods. “Remember the last time we did this run? You wiped out halfway down.” 

“Dude!”  

“No,” says Langa. “I didn’t mean it like that,” but Reki’s already laughing, shoving his shoulder, and Langa shoves back, his heart picking up with the wind, tingling with adrenaline and with the rush of having Reki by his side. Reki never minds if Langa says the wrong thing, because he always grins and shoulders him and understands, once Langa explains himself. “I just meant this is the first time you’ll really get to experience it,” Langa explains this time, as they scoot up to the brink of the ridge, ready to push off. “So it’s special.” 

Reki grins, eyes shining when he glances over at him. “Special, huh?” 

And Langa nods, his throat suddenly a little dry, because of the altitude, but also because of the laugh lines around Reki’s eyes, the way Reki tugs his knitted scarf up over his nose and mouth. That’s Langa’s scarf, and Langa wants to say that every run is special when he’s with Reki, because watching Reki jump off the ramps and wave his hands in midair and whoop with excitement makes Langa fall a little more in love with him every time, but Reki’s already adjusting his goggles and asking, “Ready?” and Langa nods again, and then together they tip their boards over the edge of the mountain and go flying.

There’s nothing like the thrill of snowboarding with Reki. They speed along all the turns shoulder-to-shoulder, and then they take turns leaping off the jumps, doing tricks while the other cheers them on until their throats are both raw with cold air and exhilaration, and when they reach the bottom they scramble to ride up the ski lift one more time before it closes. The second time is even more thrilling than the first, except when Reki takes off for his last jump, his coat snaps open midair and the sides fly out like wings, the zipper broken as he lands hard on his board and careens toward the finish line. 

“Reki!” Langa calls, skidding on his board, turning so he can slide up to Reki’s side at the bottom of the slope, heart in his throat with concern. Reki’s grinning when he turns around, both of them breathless, but Langa doesn’t miss the hint of worry in his eyes, too.

“Guess this old thing carried me as far as it’s gonna go,” Reki says, holding up the broken pieces of the zipper, and now Langa can see that the stitches of the coat are fraying, anyway, and there’s a hole in one of the sleeves. He feels a pang of guilt for not noticing sooner, because of course there’s a reason the coat was abandoned at the lost-and-found, but Reki still runs his hands kind of wistfully over the multicolored fabric. “Bummer, huh? It was a good coat.” 

Langa clears his throat, reaching for Reki’s arm. “I have some extra coats at my house,” he says. “Do you want to come and see if you want any?” 

Reki brightens, glancing up. “Really?” 

Langa nods. “I should have offered sooner,” he admits, “but I didn’t think of it.” 

Reki grins, rubbing his neck. “Dude,” he says. “Don’t apologize, you already gave me your hat and scarf and gloves, like right off your own back.” He laughs a little, nudging Langa’s board with his own. “Pretty soon I’m going to be decked out in all your clothes if this keeps up, huh?” 

Langa nods. His heart does a funny squeezing thing at that, because he kind of likes the idea. He likes the thought of Reki bundling up in one of his sweaters and a pair of woolen socks straight out of the dryer, maybe bringing a cup of cocoa over to Langa’s couch and draping his legs over Langa’s lap so they can cuddle and hang out in front of the TV, maybe stuffing his feet into Langa’s boots to hurry out and check the mail in the morning. There’s something domestic about the thought of Reki wearing his clothes, like they belong to each other, like Langa could tug on the ends of his scarf and Reki would laugh and lean in, pressing their warm mouths together, and Langa’s heart squeezes again, his cheeks going a bit flushed. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh. I don’t mind.” 

Reki grins and elbows him, pulling the broken coat shut around himself as he tries not to shiver in the cold wind. “I don’t mind either,” he says, and then, as they bump shoulders and start heading back to the lodge, he adds, “I like your stuff, Langa,” and more than anything Langa wants to blurt out, I like you. 

Reki’s been to Langa’s house before, but he’s never been inside, and Langa feels the slightest bit nervous as he unlocks the front door, keys jingling as he scuffs the snow off his boots. “Is your mom home?” Reki asks. “Am I gonna get to meet her? Oh, man, do I need to make a good impression? Hang on, lemme fix my hair.” 

“She’s at work right now,” Langa says, and Reki stops halfway through tugging his hat off, one hand already running through his sweaty hair. “She should be home soon, though. I told her you were coming.” 

Reki laughs kind of nervously, jamming the hat back on his head. “Do you think she’s gonna like me?” 

“Of course she will,” says Langa, trying not to overthink why Reki would be so worried about Langa’s mom liking him. It’s just because Reki wants everyone to like him, he’s always flopping onto the locker room benches and groaning, “I think our students hate me!” and sometimes he swaps chores with the other instructors if he gets in his head that they’re ignoring him. Reki’s a good guy, and he wants to be likable, so this has nothing to do with him wanting to make a good impression on Langa’s mom so he can kiss Langa goodbye on the porch later.

Reki kicks his boot on the porch now, as Langa tugs the wooden front door open. “How do you know, dude? What if I mess up and offend her somehow, or knock over one of her family heirlooms, or, or what if I accidentally say shit ?” 

Langa stifles a smile, hand on the doorknob. “She’ll like you anyway,” he says. “Everyone likes you, Reki.”

Reki makes a sputtering sort of sound, and Langa feels a little warm in the face, because he wants to add, I like you, but instead he just puts his hand on the small of Reki’s back and pushes him inside. The front door opens right into their living room, Christmas lights twinkling above the tiny fireplace, one of Langa’s sweaters strewn over the arm of the couch with an abandoned snowboarding magazine lying on top.

“Sorry it’s sort of small,” Langa adds, and Reki straightens up as soon as Langa shuts the door behind them both, shaking his head. 

“No!” Reki says. “No, dude, my house’s the same. I think all the houses on Mountain Loop are small, my mom says it’s part of the infrastructure, like, trying to build places that people can keep warm without burning out their electricity bill every month. I think it’s kinda cozy, y’know?” 

Langa nods, turning on the lights, his nerves easing because Reki always finds a way to put a cheerful spin on everything, a way to make Langa smile. Cozy is definitely one way to put it; he and his mom downsized to a smaller house after his dad passed, and the place on Mountain Loop was what his mom called a “fixer-upper.” They put up their own wallpaper and crammed their secondhand furniture inside, and the bedrooms are so tiny that they spend most of their time on the couch together, or Langa will eat soup and watch TV while his mom hangs out in the adjoining kitchen, but Langa kind of likes the house anyway. Mostly the rooms are full of Langa’s snowboarding gear, and there are snowy boots perched on the heating vents to dry, and there’s a rattling sound coming from the walls as the furnace kicks on, warming them up where they stand. 

“Sorry about that sound,” Langa says, as Reki unwinds his scarf. “We don’t know what’s causing it. My mom says she wants to have repairmen come out, but it’s hard around the holidays.” 

Reki brightens up. “You mean the sound in the heating unit?” 

Langa nods, and Reki bounces on the balls of his feet eagerly, tugging off his hat all the way off this time so his hair flops over his forehead. 

“It kinda sounds like it’s just a loose panel or screw or something,” he says, “but it could also be the duct system connections that are loose! Nothing serious, I could patch up for you easy.” 

Langa pauses. “Really?” 

Reki bobs his head, grinning. “Yeah, no problem!” 

Langa can feel his heart swelling a little, because Reki — Reki’s so good, and Langa wants to kiss him so much. He wants to put his hands on Reki’s cold, tingling cheeks and fumble until their mouths brush, and he wants to know if Reki would make that scratchy sound he sometimes makes when he’s trying to execute a new trick, if maybe Reki would wrap his hands around Langa’s upper arms and squeeze the faint muscle there, like he does when he’s helping Langa out of snowbanks, if maybe Reki would grin into the kiss and make Langa smile, too. It’s all too much to think about, and Langa’s probably going to start blushing if he doesn’t stop, so he swallows and says, “You’re a good guy, Reki.” 

Reki laughs, rubbing his neck. “Aw, it’s nothing!” he says. “It’s the least I can do, y’know, when you keep offering me all these clothes and stuff.”

“My mom’s going to love you,” Langa says, because he’s too embarrassed to say, I think I love you , and Reki laughs again, looking kind of red in the face, and quickly changes the subject. He tugs Langa over to the coat closet tucked in one corner of the living room, and then he plops down on the floor while Langa tugs out bins stuffed full of old winter gear he’s outgrown. He hopes some of the coats will fit — Reki’s shorter than him but more compact, with broader shoulders, but at least Langa can give him hats and scarves and gloves. And the more stuff he pulls out, the more he thinks about Reki wearing his clothes, stuff that Langa wore snowboarding himself, stuff that can keep Reki warm, and Langa’s stomach feels flustered before he even reaches the coats.

“I like this one,” Reki says, when Langa tugs out a red-and-black ski jacket he only wore a few times before finding the one he wears now, and Langa feels a smile pulling at his mouth in spite of himself. 

“I bailed every time I wore this coat,” he says, and Reki punches his shoulder. 

“Shut up, dude!”

And Langa laughs, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand, because he feels that warmth spreading through his body again. Langa never really liked the warmth before he met Reki, but now it feels like something special, something the two of them share, because even in the dead of winter, Reki grins at Langa and makes Langa’s heart warm, and Langa does his best to give Reki coats and scarves and gloves to return the favor. 

The coat fits Reki perfectly when he shrugs it on, and Langa can’t stop smiling even when his stomach squirms, because Reki looks really good, really cool, almost like a pro. The red lining brings out the amber in Reki’s eyes and the bright flush on the tops of his cheekbones when he grins, and he tries on some of Langa’s scarves, too, multiple at once, until Langa’s snorting into his sleeve at how silly Reki looks. The Canadian flag pattern clashes terribly with Langa’s blue-and-white yeti scarf, and then Reki laughs, too, and that’s how Langa’s mom finds them, toppled onto the couch together and giggling together while Reki tries to see how many hats he can fit onto his head at once. 

“Langa!” Nanako exclaims, tugging her coat off, smiling as she switches on another lamp. “You brought a friend.” 

She sounds delighted, probably because she’s always fretting about Langa never bringing anyone home, and Langa feels a little flushed as Reki bounces up off the couch, his inviting smile brighter than any of the Christmas lights strung around the living room. “Hi, Hasegawa-san!” he says. “I was just telling Langa I think I can fix that rattling sound in your furnace, if you guys will let me take a look at it!” 

Nanako looks even more delighted, and her eyes are sparkling when she looks at Langa, and Langa feels the flush spread down his neck when she mouths, where did you find him? 

“This is Reki,” Langa says, struggling a little when he sits up, his wrists sinking into the soft pile of scarves. “My, um, my snowboarding partner.” 

Nanako gets this knowing twinkle in her eyes at that word, partner, and Langa feels sort of embarrassed, even though that’s what Reki always calls them, it’s not like — it’s not like Langa made the word up. And then Nanako says, “Come into the kitchen, Reki, I want to get to know you!” and so they both troop after her into the tiny kitchen, where they perch on the barstools while Reki rambles enthusiastically to Nanako every time she asks him a question. 

The kitchen feels warm, and after dinner Nanako asks them if they’ll help her put the decorations on the Christmas tree, so Langa gets to bump shoulders with Reki while Reki pulls ornaments out of more cardboard boxes, exclaiming over the cool ones and snickering over the paper ones Langa made in preschool. He’s still wearing Langa’s yeti scarf draped over his black hoodie, the sleeves rolled up so Langa can see the freckles all over his soft forearms, golden in the tree lights, and Langa’s stomach keeps squirming when he thinks about kissing those arms, or Reki’s strong hands, or maybe his mouth, because Reki has the prettiest mouth he’s ever seen. He likes Reki’s laugh, and Reki’s smile, and the way Reki grins before he elbows him and says, “Langa,” and when Reki talks, Langa hangs onto his every word, nodding along while Reki instructs him where to put the different ornaments, decorating the tree until it’s glittering and familiar and somehow more beautiful than ever before. 

Probably Reki should go home, Langa thinks sleepily when they settle onto the couch together again, shoulders snug together while Nanako says goodnight before heading to her bedroom. They have work in the morning, but they always head to work together anyway, so maybe they can hang out and cuddle for a little while longer, and…

“I like your mom,” Reki says, his voice kind of hushed, his hoodie warm as he snuggles even deeper into Langa’s side. “Is she this nice to all your friends?” 

Langa wasn’t planning to tell Reki this, but in the gentle glow of the Christmas tree, he feels soft and sort of vulnerable, so he says, “You’re the only one I’ve ever brought home.” 

Reki glances up at him, surprised. “Really?” 

Langa nods. He loves Reki’s scratchy voice so much, the way Reki can be so loud when he’s shouting to Langa out on the slopes, but so quiet here, when he’s got one arm tucked between Langa’s back and the couch cushions so they’re sort of holding each other. “I’ve never really been this close with anybody,” Langa admits, and then clears his throat, his hands warm. “Is that, um. Is that weird? We haven’t known each other for very long.” 

Reki shifts a little, nudging their knees closer together. “It’s not weird,” he says, and then rubs his mouth, sounding kind of embarrassed when he adds, “I’m — I feel the same way.” 

Langa feels something like contentment sinking into his bones, their bodies tucked together on the comfy couch, watching the tree lights flicker on the windowpanes as the snow falls softly outside. He has the two things he loves most, Reki and the snow, and in the morning they’re going to head out to the slopes together, and Langa doesn’t know how he could ever ask for anything more, except maybe if Reki wanted to kiss him, too. He clears his throat again, cheeks slightly flushed. “Really?” 

Reki bobs his head. “Yeah,” he says. “I mean, I’ve hung out with a lot of people before, but none of them really got me, y’know? Like, they never really wanna listen to me talk about stuff I like, and most of them didn’t really understand the whole daredevil thing, like the skateboarding and the snowboarding and everything. And I just — I never felt like anybody understood my jokes, y’know? Until you.” 

Langa smiles. “Your jokes are funny,” he says, and then adds, “Sometimes,” and Reki laughs, elbowing him and snuggling closer. 

“Rude, man.” 

“Sorry,” says Langa, but he can hear the smile in his own voice, his face warm as he tucks his socked toes underneath Reki’s leg. “It’s the same way for me, I mean. Nobody really understood me before you.” 

“Yeah?” 

There’s a note of hope in Reki’s voice, maybe, and Langa feels a little flustered when he thinks too hard about what that might mean, so instead he says, “Yeah.” He finds the ends of Reki’s scarf, tugging on the soft fabric, the familiar pattern he’s worn around his neck a million times before. “I mean, I guess my parents did, most of the time. Sometimes it’s hard to put my thoughts into words, but my parents always figured out what I was trying to say if, like, I stabbed at my broccoli at dinner, or spaced out standing in the middle of the kitchen for too long, or stood still looking at something in the store while we were shopping.” 

Reki grins, nudging Langa with his arm. “I’m pretty good at figuring out that stuff too, huh?” 

And Langa nods, because it’s true, Reki always understands what he means if Langa frowns at the lock on his locker because he forgot the combination, or hesitates before heading over to a student, or stares longingly at an item on the cafe menu. “Yes,” he says, and Reki laughs, snuggling so his toes are tucked under Langa’s thigh, too. 

“I speak Langa,” he says, sounding kind of content, a faint blush on his cheeks again. “I was right, huh? We make good partners.” 

Langa’s heart feels full. He nods again, and he wants to repeat that word, partners, he wants to tell Reki how good he looks wearing Langa’s scarf, he wants to tell Reki how much he likes him, more than he’s ever liked anyone before. But before he gets a chance, Reki’s scrambling up from the couch again, catching Langa’s hand in his own and grinning at Langa with those bright, eager eyes that never fail to set Langa’s heart fluttering. 

“We have a little time before we have to sleep, right?” Reki says. “C’mon, let’s sneak out for a second. I wanna learn how to make snow angels.”

So they sneak out into the snowy yard, and Langa laughs when Reki trips and falls face-first into a snowbank with an oof, and then Reki scrambles up and throws snow at Langa, and he’s laughing, too, and with the Christmas lights reflecting on the white blanketed yard, everything’s glistening and magical and kind of thrilling in the nighttime. Langa throws snow back at Reki, and it gets caught in his hair and eyelashes, and Reki blinks and sputters a little and then Langa’s toppling onto his knees in the snowbank, too, using his mittens to rub the snow off Reki’s face, cupping his cheeks in his palms. Reki grins at him, face flushed in the darkness, and Langa grins, too, his heart thumping because he wants to kiss him, he wants to kiss him, he wants to kiss him. 

Langa wants to kiss him when they flop onto their backs to make snow angels, gazing up at the snowflakes fluttering down from above, and he wants to kiss him when Reki marvels aloud at how cold everything is at night, and he wants to kiss him when they finally scramble up and help each other to their feet, slipping a little on the ice, and he wants to kiss him when Reki says, “We’ll probably have to wake up early to dig my car out of the snow?” and Langa’s heart flutters, and he blurts out, 

“Are you staying over?” 

Reki tugs on one end of his scarf, looking sheepish. “Ah — I mean, uh, is that okay?” 

Langa nods, and then he nods again because of course it’s okay, he wants to spend as much time with Reki as possible, he wants to drag himself out of bed in the early, early morning with him, he wants to kiss him. They hurry inside and drape their wet snow gear over the heating vents to dry, and then Langa stumbles into his bedroom with Reki in tow, only a little self-conscious about the snowboarding posters plastered all over the walls because he knows Reki will think they’re cool, too. 

And then they tumble into bed together, dragging the thick blankets over themselves, and Langa falls asleep to the warm feeling of Reki’s laughter on his skin, and he wakes up to Reki’s arms wrapped snugly around him, and then Reki’s alarm jingles loudly from somewhere in the blankets, and he can hear Reki mumbling “fuck, fuck,” as he fumbles to turn his phone off. “Langa, dude,” he whispers, shaking Langa’s shoulder, and Langa stifles a groan, wrapping his arms tightly around Reki’s waist because he’s so soft and so comfortable and he doesn’t want to get up. 

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles into the front of Reki’s hoodie, and Reki huffs a flustered laugh, petting Langa’s hair with his hands. 

“Okay,” he says, settling down among all the pillows again. “But then we really have to get up.” 

Five minutes turns into ten minutes, which turns into fifteen because neither of them have any self-control, and because Langa feels so good when they’re cuddled up like this, with their arms wrapped around each other and their socked feet tangled together. But finally Langa’s alarm goes off, which means they definitely have to wake up, and with a little more groaning, Reki manages to wrestle Langa out of bed and into the bathroom, where he sticks Langa’s toothbrush into his mouth. 

“Is it, uh, cool if I borrow some clothes, dude?” Reki asks, shuffling his feet with a sheepish grin, and Langa’s brain wakes up a little more as he nods. 

“Anything you want,” he mumbles around his toothbrush, and Reki laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Sweet, thanks,” he says, and he hurries back into the bedroom, where Langa can hear him rummaging around in his stuff. It’s early, but Langa’s heart still starts to thrum as he brushes his teeth, because Reki’s going to wear his clothes, not just his scarf and his hat, and Langa already knows he’s going to look good, so good. When he peers into the bedroom again, he can see that every drawer is open, and Reki’s grinning, decked out in one of Langa’s black turtlenecks with a sweater over top, the front stretched across his broad chest as he tugs on the sleeves. “How do I look, dude?” 

Gorgeous, Langa wants to say, because his throat is dry and he can’t stop staring, but instead he swallows and says, “Good,” and maybe he still sounds a little too honest because Reki laughs again, his cheeks going kind of red. 

“Thanks, dude,” he says, tossing a pillow back toward the headboard. “You better hurry if we wanna get there in time for the morning snow report, okay? Lemme go start the coffee.” 

Langa fumbles to pull on his own layers, his heart still pounding, and he can hardly believe he got so lucky when he comes out into the kitchen and Reki meets him with two steaming mugs of coffee and a grin, the yeti scarf already draped around his neck. 

“Ready to rage?” he asks, pressing one cup into Langa’s hand, and Langa nods, thinking, I love you. 

It’s hard not to love Reki, even when he almost runs them off the road twice on their drive up to the lodge, yelping and scaring Langa both times, and Langa’s heart thumps every time he sees Reki shrug out of his coat so he can glimpse his own turtleneck underneath, every time Reki laughs and pulls Langa’s hat over his curls, every time Reki tug his yeti scarf up over his grin. The scarf clashes horribly with the red and black of his jacket, but when one of the other instructors snaps a photo of them and tacks it up on the bulletin board, Langa can see how the scarf matches perfectly with his own blue coat, like he and Reki are matching, like they’re a team. 

Somehow, over the next couple of weeks, Reki ends up with more and more of Langa’s clothes. Langa gives him more socks and few scarves, and Reki steals another woolen hat out of Langa’s locker and something out of his coat closet every time he comes over, and he always ends up sleeping over, too, and in the mornings he borrows Langa’s turtlenecks and sweaters and walks around the rest of the day smelling like Langa’s shampoo. It makes Langa’s heart pound underneath his snow gear, and then Reki invites him over to his house, too, which is just as small as Langa’s own — Reki shares a bedroom with his elderly grandmother — but bright and bustling and cozy, and Reki’s family is so welcoming at the dinner table that Langa feels like he belongs there, too. 

“You wanna spend Christmas together?” Reki asks the next day, in between snowboarding lessons, when he’s filling up his thermos with hot cocoa. “My mom invited you and your mom over for dinner with our family, if you wanna come!” 

Langa pauses. “Really?” 

“‘Course, dude, I wouldn’t invite you otherwise, would I?” 

“We won’t be intruding?” Langa ventures, but Reki just laughs, shaking his head. 

“Nah,” he says, grinning, sounding affectionate when he adds, “My family wants you to be there! We love you, dude.” 

And those words replay in Langa’s head for the whole day, we love you, we love you, love, love, love. The things Reki says always replay in Langa’s head, even if they’re mundane things about snowboard maintenance or Langa’s rattling furnace, but this one makes Langa’s heart all fluttery, swelling a bit with something like hope. Maybe he’ll have a chance to tell Reki he loves him, too, at some point. He’s thinking about it so much that he flubs a simple trick on the slopes, and Reki pokes his cheeks when they clamber in the car and teases him for concentrating too hard, but when they reach Langa’s house, Reki settles close to him on the sofa and puts his cheek on Langa’s shoulder while he shows him a snowboarding video, and Langa’s heart swells up even more. 

He loves Reki. 

He loves Reki, and by now he’s used to seeing Reki wearing his sweaters around the lodge, calling “Langa!” and waving with one of Langa’s scarves already wrapped around his neck, nudging him while they unlace their boots together in the locker room, sprawling across the carpet in Reki’s bedroom while Reki plans lesson strategies for their students aloud. Langa loves him, and on their day off they go Christmas shopping around town and then to a homey sort of diner to grab food, and it almost feels like a date, especially since Reki’s wearing an old pair of Langa’s jeans, and also because he fumbles to hold Langa’s hand when they’re leaving. They’re both wearing gloves, so Langa can’t feel the rough, comforting edges of Reki’s calluses like he sometimes can when they’re cuddling, but his heart starts fluttering anyway, and then Reki uses their joined hands to point to a display of Christmas lights and says, “It’s kinda romantic, huh?” 

He grins at Langa, his cheeks flushed with the lights reflecting in his eyes, and Langa’s heart thumps, because, oh.

He loves Reki, and maybe, just maybe, maybe Reki could love him, too. 

On their last day of lessons before the holidays, Langa stays behind to help a student who really wants to learn how to land her first ollie. Slowly but surely Langa feels like he’s getting the hang of the whole instructor thing, and when he finally catches up to Reki in the lodge, Reki beams at him with that familiar smile that always makes Langa’s heart flip. 

“You’re good with them, dude,” Reki says, and Langa tries to catch his breath, palms flushed, pressing their shoulders together. 

“Who?” 

“The students,” says Reki. “They like you! Even if sometimes you don’t know what to say when they ask you stuff.”

“You think so?” 

“I know so, dude,” says Reki, grinning and nudging him. He has Langa’s Canadian flag scarf draped over his shoulders, which brings out the pleasant red of his cheeks underneath his freckles, and he hands Langa one of the two cups of cocoa he’s holding. “Here, I got you something to warm you up, okay?” 

Langa already feels warm from the exertion, and from the way Reki’s eyes are sparkling when he tells Langa he did a good job, but he nods anyway, wrapping his hands around the cup. “Thank you, Reki.”

“Aw, it’s nothing,” Reki says, nudging him again. “I gotta take care of my partner, y’know?” 

He sounds kind of teasing but also kind of soft, like he really means it, and Langa nods, his heart squeezing as he takes a sip. He likes how he and Reki take care of each other in their own ways. Reki always buys him food when he’s hungry, and Langa brings him warm clothes and also comfort stuff to keep Reki’s hands busy, like the knitting needles his mom gave him a few years ago. Reki always talks to the students while Langa does the demonstrations, and Langa’s willing to do the same snowboarding trick over and over so Reki can analyze it, understand it more completely so he can teach the move to everyone else, but also so he can figure how to master it himself. They spend so much time together, and Reki always talks so Langa can listen, and Langa always listens so Reki can talk, and it’s just, it’s nice. 

They make a good team. 

“I want to take care of you, too,” Langa says, before he can really think it over, and Reki’s face flushes a beautiful shade of red before he elbows Langa, laughing, and hurries him out into the cold again. 

Reki’s mom needed the car for her own Christmas shopping today, so they have to take the ski shuttle back into town, but Langa doesn’t mind, because the crowd in the shuttle means he gets to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Reki, snug and cozy in the back of the bus. “Think the snow will clear up by tomorrow?” Reki asks, bumping their knees together as he looks past Langa at the snowflakes drifting against the bus windows, and Langa hums a little, trying not to focus too much on the place where their gloved hands keep brushing together. 

“We can still snowboard if it's snowing,” he says, and Reki snickers, elbowing him. 

“Not in a whole blizzard, dude.” 

“We could .” 

“Well, we could if we had a death wish,” says Reki, elbowing him again, “but I can’t have you dying before you have a chance to try my mom’s Christmas dinner, okay?”

Langa thinks about that as the bus rumbles out of the parking lot and down toward the ski town, which is already lit up in the early afternoon. There aren’t many things he loves more than snowboarding with Reki, but when he thinks about squeezing into a seat between Reki and Nanako at the Kyan family dinner table, his stomach feels all warm again, sort of tingly with excitement. The snow report this morning said they would have some heavy weather today but clear skies tomorrow, but Reki wasn’t paying attention to the snow report, because he was curled up on the couch next to Langa, chin on his bouncing knees while he doodled all over Langa’s arm. 

Langa loves him. 

He loves Reki, and it’s impossible to stifle all his feelings, so instead Langa pulls out his phone and shows Reki the weather report, where it says the snow should stop sometime in the middle of the night. “Oh, sweet!” Reki says, bouncing up in the seat. “So maybe we could head to the slopes first thing in the morning, since we don’t have to teach any lessons! You wanna hang out at my place tonight, dude?” 

“You mean — like, sleep over?” 

“Yeah,” says Reki, and he sounds a little embarrassed when he adds, “I sleep better when you’re there, y’know?” 

Langa does know, because he feels the same way, and his hands feel sort of sweaty in his gloves when he nods, because what if Reki…what if Reki feels some of the other things Langa feels when they’re together, the excited thrumming heartbeat, the warm chest, the irresistible pull to be close, the desire to hang on his every word, the feeling like they fit together, like something almost perfect? Probably nobody else would want to wake up and head to the slopes with Langa at the crack of dawn on their first day off in weeks, but Reki wants to, and Langa’s heart feels all tingly and full when he thinks about Reki grinning at him when he shifts the car into reverse, or when he tucks the ends of Langa’s scarf into the coat he borrowed from him, or when he’s saying, “Ready?” before they push off down the slopes, giddy from the sheer joy of being together. 

Langa loves him. 

“I know,” he says, and Reki grins at him, his face kind of flushed, and then he starts rambling about the cookies he promised they would bake with his sisters tonight, and Langa nods, watching him with that full, happy feeling pressed against his chest. He finally has someone he can snowboard with every day, someone he can share clothes and food and the holidays with, and he wants to kiss Reki maybe more than anything he’s ever wanted before, almost as much as he wants to tell him, Reki, I love you. 

It’s still snowing when the shuttle drops them off a couple of blocks away from Reki’s house, but Langa still feels warm inside, partly because his body was sort of built for the cold, but also because Reki keeps bumping his hand against Langa’s as they walk, the snow falling thick and soft along the sidewalks of Mountain Loop. Reki’s still telling stories about his family’s holiday traditions, but he’s also sneaking glances at Langa, brushing their gloves together like maybe he wants to hold hands again like they did at the diner, so Langa takes a chance and fumbles to slide his gloved hand into Reki’s. His heart thumps, and Reki stumbles over his words for a second, but then he clears his throat and tugs his scarf up and squeezes Langa’s hand, and, and, oh. 

Reki looks happy. 

He’s trying to hide his grin in Langa’s Canadian flag scarf, but his eyes are all crinkled up at the corners, and Langa can hear the smile in his voice, and his heart gives a giddy sort of thump as he squeezes Reki’s hand back. “Man, it’s really coming down,” Reki says, gesturing around them at the snow, eyes sparkling when he glances at Langa. “I hope we don’t get snowed in, huh?” 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Langa says honestly. “I mean, not if I was with you, Reki.” 

Reki laughs, cheeks flushed in the cold as he fumbles to squeeze Langa’s hand again, tugging the scarf up. He looks flustered, but he also looks happy , and Langa’s heart is fluttering so much because they’re holding hands, him and Reki, and the snow is falling more heavily around them, and it makes Langa feel alive, the way he feels when he’s snowboarding. Reki’s right, the snow’s really coming down, but their hands are clasped tightly together, and when Reki nudges close to him, Langa somehow feels excited and safe all at once. 

“You really like the snow, huh?” Reki asks, grinning, and Langa nods. 

“It’s exciting.” 

“You adrenaline junkie,” Reki says, affectionately, as if he’s not the exact same way, and he reaches over with his free hand to tug on one end of Langa’s loosely-tied scarf. They turn the corner onto their familiar street, and Langa’s heart thumps again, excited to get home and curl up on the couch with Reki, because maybe they can keep holding hands even after they tug their gloves off, and Langa can feel the calluses on Reki’s palms and rub his thumbs over each one of Reki’s knuckles while they cuddle, and he’s about to ask which slopes Reki wants to snowboard down tomorrow when a gust of wind blows through them, snatching the hat right off Langa’s head and tossing it up into the air. 

Reki yelps, leaping forward to try and catch it, but the hat’s already whirling out into the street. Langa makes a startled sound in his throat, and then they’re both running, their hands still tangled together as they chase the hat down the street, their boots slipping on the ice as they jump over snowbanks and scramble around parked cars, the snow coming down even thicker and heavier than before. The hat whirls into the air again on another gust of wind, and Langa’s heart’s pounding with the adrenaline of it all, and then he’s grinning against the cold, because he’s just, he’s so thrilled and so happy and it’s been so long since anything has gotten his heart racing like this, and then Reki’s laughing, his hand catching and squeezing at Langa’s glove as he lunges forward, barely grabbing the top of the hat before the wind blows it straight into someone’s yard. 

Reki’s breathless when he says, “Got it!” and turns around, grinning, his face flushed and his hair wild as he clutches the hat in his fist. “I guess it’s mine now, huh?”

And Langa’s laughing, too, because Reki has snowflakes caught in his eyelashes and on top of his cheekbones, and he’s so, so beautiful, and then Reki’s laughing, and he fumbles to grab onto Langa’s arms in his thick coat, holding onto him. 

“I’m just teasing,” he says, tongue poking into his cheek as he grins again, his cheeks flushed. “I’ve probably stolen enough of your clothes, huh? Here,” and he reaches up, tugging the hat down over Langa’s hair again, and then he puts his snowy gloves on both sides of Langa’s face and squeezes his cheeks and grins up at him, that familiar boyish, inviting smile that Langa loves so much, and Langa, 

Langa loves him, 

and then Langa’s blurting out, “Can I kiss you?” 

Reki’s eyes go wide, and for a second it feels like even the snow is holding its breath,  and then Reki grins again, his eyes big and excited and sparkling. “Yeah?” he says, sounding kind of eager and kind of flustered. “I mean — I mean, yeah, yes, of course you can, of course, ah, please — please do.” 

Langa’s heart is fluttering, and his hands are so warm in his gloves, because oh, oh, Reki wants to kiss him, too. Clumsily he puts his hands on Reki’s shoulders, and then he ducks down a little, the snow catching on the bridge of his nose just as he shuts his eyes, aiming for Reki’s mouth. And then — oh. Reki’s lips are soft, and he’s smiling into the kiss, and then he laughs a little and squishes Langa’s face and kisses him properly, their warm mouths fumbling together, a little damp from the snow but so, so warm. Reki tastes like hot cocoa and excitement, like snowboarding, and Langa loves him more than he’s ever loved anything else.

“I like you,” he mumbles into the kiss, and Reki laughs and pulls away, kissing the corner of Langa’s mouth, wrapping his arms around Langa’s neck and tugging him forward so their foreheads thump together. 

“I like you too, Langa, dude,” he says, and the smile in his voice sounds flustered and so, so affectionate as he ruffles Langa’s hair underneath his hat. “I like you so much, dude, you have no idea.”

“I think I have some idea,” Langa says, his heart thrumming with love and kiss and Reki, Reki, Reki, and Reki grins, his face flushed, and then he’s leaning in, pressing their mouths together again. Langa lets his eyes flutter shut again, his heart so full as he focuses on the way Reki huffs warm breaths against his lips in between kisses, hugging him tightly, their noses nudging together as Reki tilts his face and tries to get even closer. Reki kisses like he does everything else, enthusiastically and a little uncoordinated, and Langa feels clumsy as he kisses back, but in a good way, the kind of way that always makes Reki laugh. Somehow kissing Reki feels so familiar and so new all at once, and it sends warm shivers all up and down Langa’s spine, because he wants to kiss Reki again and again until he learns everything about him, everything Reki wants to share with him, everything Reki loves. 

“You’re so warm,” Reki says when they pull apart again, huffing a laugh, and he kisses the tip of Langa’s nose. “Well, you’re cold there. And here, I guess,” kissing Langa’s cheek, “and here,” the spot between Langa’s eyebrows that he has to stretch to reach, and then Langa laughs, too, wrapping his arms around Reki’s shoulders and squeezing. 

“Are you going to warm me up?” 

“Maybe,” says Reki, with a cheeky smile, and then he laughs at himself, rubbing his gloved hand over his flushed face. “Man, sorry, I just — I just like you so much, dude, like, so much.” 

“I like you more,” Langa says, kissing his nose, and Reki grins and pushes at his shoulders, before tugging him closer and kissing him on the mouth again. 

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh,” mumbles Langa, and Reki grins into their kiss, tucking Langa’s hair back with his snowy gloves, and his mouth is so soft that Langa closes his eyes again, focusing all his attention on kissing Reki back. 

His heart is still fluttering so much, so full, so excited because he can’t believe he’s allowed to do this, kiss Reki, and touch his cheeks with his gloves hands, and even kiss his cheeks. He feels Reki’s breathless laugh as Langa presses his mouth to the cold, flushed skin there, and then Langa registers the snow caught in Reki’s hair, piling up on the top of his woolen hat, because, oh. It’s still snowing. It’s snowing even more than before, probably, because there’s a storm coming in, so Langa presses one last hasty kiss to Reki’s flushed, pretty mouth before pulling away. 

“Home?” he asks, and Reki’s eyes go all soft around the edges, sparkling and excited as he nods, and he fumbles to hold Langa’s hand again as they head back through the snow. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Home.”

When they finally trample into Reki’s house and stomp out their boots on the welcome mat, they’re breathless and grinning and soaked to the bone, because somehow snow got inside their clothes even through all the layers they’re wearing. Langa doesn’t care, though, because his heart is fluttering and his mouth is still tingling from all the kissing, the kissing, because Reki kissed him, Reki likes him, maybe even as much as Langa likes Reki . 

He barely even notices that he’s dripping snow all over Reki’s foyer until Reki huffs a laugh and reaches for the zipper of his coat. “Langa, dude, you’re spacing out again,” he says, kind of affectionate as he unzips Langa’s coat and helps him shrug it off, and then shakes the wet snow off his hands, grinning up at him. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” 

“You,” says Langa, and Reki starts to grin, his face going kind of red, and he opens his mouth just as his mom pokes her head out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Her face softens into a smile when she sees Langa, the same friendly, inviting smile Reki always has. 

“Reki!” she says, and Reki jumps, twisting around. 

“Yes, mom!” 

“Why were you out in a snowstorm, honey? You’re covered from head to foot.” 

“We had to take the shuttle,” says Reki, “and then we got, uh, kind of — uh, distracted on the way home.” 

His face is definitely red now, and he grabs onto Langa’s arm, tugging him further into the house. Masae raises her eyebrows but doesn’t comment, probably because she’s used to her son getting distracted every three seconds, running around the grocery store as a kid and shouting Mama! Mama! while pointing to everything on the shelves. “Okay, honey,” she says instead, giving Langa another smile. “Let this poor boy shower and get warmed up before dinner, okay? I’m making extra.” 

Langa’s heart gives a little leap at the thought of extra food, and Reki squeezes his arm, tugging him toward the hallway again. “Okay, Mom,” he says, still sounding a little embarrassed, and the way he rubs his thumb over Langa’s bicep makes Langa’s body thrill all over. “C’mere, dude, let’s get you some dry clothes.” 

“Okay,” says Langa, letting Reki pull him through his cozy, crowded home, the wooden walls and rumbling furnace that always make him feel safe, like he’s at his grandparent’s house in Quebec with all his cousins. He can hear Reki’s younger sisters wrapping presents in the living room, listening to their own grandma tell them a story in Japanese, and then Reki tugs him into his bedroom and shuts the door with a soft thump. Langa likes Reki’s bedroom, because it’s so him, the brightly colored tapestries hanging in front of the closet and the fidget toys all over the floor, and even these snowboarding posters that he put up after seeing them in Langa’s room. There’s skateboarding stuff too, of course, and Langa likes that too, because he likes seeing the things Reki rambles about at the lodge come to life. 

“We can take turns showering, okay?” Reki asks, rubbing his thumb over Langa’s arm again as he looks up at him. “And then, uh — cuddle a little more before dinner, if you want. Sound good?”

Langa nods. It sounds amazing, of course it sounds amazing, because Reki always has the best ideas. “And we can kiss again?” he asks, hopefully, and Reki gives an embarrassed sort of laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yeah,” he says. “‘Course we can.” 

Langa’s heart gives another happy, excited leap. He’s only done it once, but kissing Reki is quickly becoming one of his favorite things to do, alongside seeing Reki soar into the air on his snowboard or cramming into a ski lift with him, grinning. “Okay,” he says, putting his hand on the doorknob again so he can head back to the bathroom. “Let’s hurry and shower then.”

Reki laughs again, squeezing his arm. “Okay, okay, hang on, c’mere,” he says, tugging Langa away from the door, further into the room, and pulling open one of his overstuffed drawers. He looks kind of sheepish when he grins up at Langa again. “I sort of have a gift for you,” he says. “I know it’s kinda early for Christmas, but d’you want it now?” 

Langa nods, straightening up, the thoughts of kissing falling away for a second. “What is it?” 

“It’s something I made,” Reki says, rubbing his neck. “I have another present I’m gonna give you on Christmas, like a real one, ‘cause this one’s just, it’s kinda stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid,” says Langa immediately, and Reki huffs a laugh, nudging his shoulder. 

“How do you know, dude? You don’t even know what it is yet.” 

“I just know,” Langa says, and then adds, “Because it’s from you.” 

Reki rubs at his face, grinning, looking kind of flustered but mostly pleased. “Okay, you big sap,” he says, and then he glances over Langa's shoulder to make sure his mom’s not coming in before he leans in and kisses Langa’s cheek. His mouth is warm and a little chapped from being outside, and Langa can feel the scrape on his bottom lip where Reki bashed his mouth into his thermos the other day while laughing, and his cheek tingles when Reki pulls back, because it’s a little flustering and kind of exciting, knowing something so intimate about him. And then Reki says, “Here,” and tugs on Langa’s arm again, rummaging through the drawer until he pulls out a knitted hat and a matching scarf.

Langa feels his heart pause, his eyes going wide. “Oh,” he says dumbly. “For me?” 

Reki snorts a laugh, squeezing Langa’s arm. “Of course, dude, who else is here?” He hands Langa the scarf and hat with a lopsided grin, shuffling his feet like he’s maybe a little nervous. “I figured I should make sure you have some warm stuff, too,” he explains. “Since I’ve been stealing your clothes since the beginning, y’know?” 

Langa nods, unable to tear his eyes away from the soft knitted pattern of the scarf, the fuzzy pom-pom bobbing on top of the hat. They’re obviously handmade, every stitch slightly different, woven together with the bright colors Reki always wears, oranges and reds like his hair, like the sunset. The scarf matches perfectly with the red lining on Reki’s ski jacket, so when Langa wears it looped around his neck, they’ll look like a pair, like a team.

His heart is full, beginning to flutter against his chest again. “Thank you,” he says, and then glances up at Reki, hugging the scarf and hat to his chest. “And I don’t mind — I mean, I like when you steal my clothes.” 

Reki grins. “Yeah?”

Langa nods. “I like seeing you wear them.”

Reki’s face looks all flushed and good, his damp hair curling around his red cheeks, the sweater he stole from Langa still damp from the snow, and Langa can’t help ducking down to kiss his cheek, too. His heart is thrumming happily. He likes when Reki wears his clothes, all casual and easy, the way he slings his arm around Langa’s shoulders, the way Langa steals food out of his bento, the two of them best friends from the start, and now something more, too. Reki gives a flustered sort of laugh as Langa lingers, kissing his nose, and rubs his mouth when Langa finally pulls away. “Thanks, dude,” he says, and then, looking kind of embarrassed that he just thanked Langa for a kiss, he adds, “Here! Lemme grab you some other clothes to change into.”

He finds Langa a big, warm hoodie in his closet, along with some soft flannel pants that look a couple inches too short, and he pushes Langa back out into the hallway after bundling them in his arms. The Kyans only have one bathroom, and it’s a little cramped, but the water runs warm as soon as Langa turns it on, and it feels good to take a hot shower after being on the slopes all day and getting caught in a snowstorm. And after Langa pulls on the warm hoodie, which smells pleasantly like the heater in Reki’s car, he gets to hang out in Reki’s bed and read through his skateboarding magazines while Reki takes his turn in the bathroom. Even through the walls and the other voices filling the house, Langa can hear Reki singing in the shower, and it makes his heart squeeze when he stifles a smile in the collar of the hoodie. Reki has a scratchy, boisterous voice that Langa would recognize from across an entire mountain if Reki was hollering his name, and he hopes he’s going to get to hear Reki singing in the shower many, many more times in the future. 

He flips a page in the magazine, running his finger along the skateboard designs. The boards are cool, not as cool as snowboards maybe, but they’re Reki’s first love, so maybe if they were skating together, Langa would learn to love them too. He’ll ask Reki to show him how when the weather warms up again, Langa decides, and then the door opens and Reki squeezes back into the room, fuzzy legs bare in his shorts, his curly hair rubbed dry with one of his towels. 

His skin is all flushed and golden, and Langa’s heart does a familiar flip in his ribcage because oh, Reki’s gorgeous, and then Reki plops down on the bed with his easy, inviting smile and all Langa’s tingling nerves melt away. “You still wanna cuddle?” Reki asks, grinning, and Langa nods quickly, putting down the magazine and scooting over so fast that his feet get all tangled in the blankets. 

Reki’s scratchy laugh sounds like comfort, like home, as he snuggles into the space next to Langa, tugging a knitted afghan up over their legs. The room is so warm with all of Reki’s colorful decorations, the snow piling up against the windows, one of Reki’s socked feet tucked between Langa’s ankles, and when Reki ducks his head to kiss Langa’s cheek, Langa turns his face for another kiss, kind of hopefully. Reki huffs a fond sort of laugh against his mouth before kissing him there, too, shifting so he can put one sweaty hand on Langa’s face and hold him steady, the way he holds Langa’s arm when Langa’s gearing up for a new trick, brow furrowed in concentration, determination thrumming through both of their veins. 

Langa likes when Reki holds him like this, and he likes kissing Reki even more, slow and soft as the furnace rumbles through the walls. Reki’s mouth is warm and a little wet from the shower, and he kisses kind of adventurously, even swiping his tongue along the seam of Langa’s mouth, and Langa can’t quite stop himself from making a sudden, eager sound in his throat. Reki’s breathing heavier when he pulls away, rubbing his thumb over the spot he just kissed, and Langa’s eyes flutter because oh, the calluses on Reki’s fingers feel good, and then Reki kisses him again, mumbling “Okay?” against his mouth. Langa nods quickly, squeezing his eyes shut again and curling his fingers around the front of Reki’s thick sweater, Langa’s sweater, and Reki presses their mouths together again. He sucks a little on Langa’s bottom lip until Langa whimpers, and then he slides his tongue into Langa’s mouth, and everything is so impossibly soft and warm and Langa feels that fluttering in his heart again, like excitement. It’s a new kind of excitement, though, different from balancing on top of the slopes with the wind whipping through him, a soft, warm sort of adrenaline he’s never felt before, the kind that makes him want to melt into the mattress and tug Reki on top of him and make out with him until dinnertime. 

Reki keeps teaching him new ways to feel exhilarated, and Langa breathes another quiet, happy sound against his lips, and Reki kisses him gently a couple more times before pulling away and snuggling down into his side. 

“I like you a lot, dude,” he says, his voice still scratchy but mostly content, and Langa cuddles down, too, shifting so he can wrap his arm around Reki’s shoulders and hold him close. 

“I like you, too, Reki,” Langa says, and Reki hums a satisfied noise into his shoulder.

“I liked you right away,” he admits, tugging on the front of Langa’s sweater before settling his hand there, his palm over Langa’s heart. “Like, the day we met, the first thing I thought to myself was man, he’s super freakin’ cool, and I wanted to get to know you ‘cause of that. But then the more we got to know each other, the more I realized you’re actually kinda funky and airheaded sometimes, y’know? And you do stupid dangerous stuff and say whatever you’re thinking, and then, y’know, then I liked you even more.” 

Langa feels warm, because it’s nice, being understood, and it’s even nicer that Reki likes him even more now that he understands him. “Really?”

Reki nods, grinning and wrapping his own arm around Langa’s hoodie, squeezing. “Yeah, dude.” 

“I liked you right away, too,” Langa says, and it’s only when the words come out of his mouth that he realizes how true they really are. “I liked your smile, and how you talked to me like we already knew each other. And I liked how happy you looked wearing my hat with the stupid pom-pom.” 

Reki laughs, tugging on the strings of Langa's hoodie, and Langa can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I like when you wear my clothes, too, dude.” 

Langa’s happy. They’re going to have dinner with Reki’s family and then help his sisters bake cookies, and then they’ll get to sneak in some cuddles under Reki’s quilts while his grandma snores peacefully on the other side of the room, and in the morning, the first thing in the morning, they’re going to hit the slopes together. And when he leans in to kiss Reki, both of them smiling into the kiss, Langa finally gets to whisper against Reki’s mouth, “I like you. ”