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Saturday nights after Joe closes up shop are when the stairs leading to the little apartment above Sia La Luce see the most foot traffic. Conveniently color-coded skaters clomp their way up the stairs and plop down on the worn couches for the ultimate showdown:
Game night.
Every week is different; rock, paper, scissors and whoever wins gets to bring any game of their choice. In theory, curfew is Miya’s bedtime, but that’s never stopped rematches dragging long into the night.
Game nights only have two rules: no maiming, and absolutely no Monopoly.
Naturally, Saturday mornings are for cleaning up broken dishware, dealing with last night’s noise complaints, apologies, and even returning a dog that one time.
If there’s one thing that Reki can swear on (besides his mom and Langa’s appetite), it’s that game night is beloved.
Game night is feared.
Game night is inevitable.
Today’s Saturday is a reminder that spring is ending; the heavy air waits to hold the muggy summer heat and the sun has taken its time dragging itself into the ocean.
Reki taps his foot at a staccato rhythm. His legs are squished up against Langa and Miya on the couch as the three intently watch Cherry hunched over the Jenga tower.
“Carla, calculate how much force is needed to remove the left brick on the twelfth row.”
“Ok, that is obviously cheating,” complains Joe, nudging Cherry off balance from his half-squat.
“Anything goes!” crows Reki, who’s on Cherry’s team this round.
“This isn’t S!” complains Miya, who is not.
Reki sticks his tongue out at him and smiles when Miya wrinkles his nose. He lunges and ruffles his hair, laughing at the squawk he gets for it. For an only child, the little rat is a model little brother.
Cherry regains his balance and glares at Joe, “Not all of us have the raw animalistic strength necessary to karate chop the blocks out of place, gorilla.”
“I haven’t missed yet, have I princess?”
“You mean other than last round?”
Reki raises his eyebrows as the two bicker. And to think they’re convinced they’re so subtle. Even their separate fangirl groups have called a truce and merged to make some sort of strange symbiotic cult. Sometimes Reki sees them swapping keychains and hand-drawn comics.
“Dad and Papa are flirting again,” deadpans Langa, and Reki chokes on a laugh.
“It is not flirting,” says Joe, turning to Langa with an accusatory finger pointing at him, “it is honoring the sacred laws of Jenga–”
“It’s jealousy,” says Cherry, holding the extracted brick in his hand.
“It’s going to be a lot more in a second if you don’t put that brick back.”
“Always such a brute, Kojiro.”
“Only if you insist, Kaoru.”
Reki wrinkles his nose as Miya makes an impressively accurate impression of a cat hacking up a hairball, causing Reki, of course, to burst out laughing and attempt his own rendition of the sound, which sounds more like a faulty ignition.
Shadow scoffs from the armchair he’s slouched down in, drinking in the chaos.
“Hopeless,” he grumbles.
“Like that hairline?” asks Cherry, smoothly.
“Oi!”
“It’s your turn anyways,” he continues. He turns up his nose, “And remember, the object of the game is to keep the tower standing .”
Shadow’s eye twitches.
Contrary to popular belief, the best shit-talker at S is not Shadow, or even Adam. Rather, the man deserving of the title takes a more composed and passive aggressive approach, ensuring maximum brutality.
Shadow stands up and puffs his chest. As Reki watches him split into an evil grin, a shiver runs down his spine.
“Um, Shadow?” Reki says, already backing up on the couch, pulling Langa with him by the arm.
He can’t help a little flutter in his stomach when Langa gives him a confused look and puts a hand over the one he’s pushing against his arm.
Very cute, but not now when in a potential blast radius!
“I’ll show you who's standing,” Shadow says menacingly, reaching into his pocket. His firecracker pocket.
“That makes no sense,” Miya points out helpfully.
“HAEMANTHUS BOMB!”
“Oh shi-”
—
After the smoldering wreck of the Jenga tower is cleared away and Miya has stopped hissing, the group stares at the, slightly (very) scorched, coffee table in silence.
“Whew! I did not miss that feeling!” says Reki before it gets too awkward.
Cherry flicks out his fan and chases away the lingering smoky smell, “I’m sure my poor Jenga blocks didn’t appreciate it either.”
“Sounds like something a loser would say,” says Shadow with a smirk.
“Who says we lost!?” protests Reki, “You can’t win the game by blowing up the board!”
“Anything goes, right kid?”
“We’re not at S!”
“Even if we were, it’s not really much of a skate technique to throw bombs at people,” says Miya haughtily.
“Whose side are you on, kid?” sneers Shadow. “Besides, It’s not like I’m jumping off and hitting people in the face with my board.”
“Hey,” Joe warns, but Cherry just rolls his eyes.
“Pipe down, white knight.” He lets out an amused huff, “It was rather crude, wasn’t it.”
Reki’s smile fades. He wasn’t there that night, too caught up in self loathing and loneliness. He heard later that Cherry had a moderate concussion, broken arm and sprained ankle. What was Reki doing? Mourning a friendship he was trying to throw away.
“He must be compensating for something,” says Cherry casually, yanking Reki out of his spiral.
Everyone’s startled into laughter, Shadow’s bellow filling the room and– oh great, Joe’s looking at Cherry again like he could never get tired of looking at him. Reki catches Miya’s eye and they share an obligatory look of disgust, but privately Reki pushes down the instinct to smile. Those two are sweet, really. Reki is so happy for them.
It just happens to be more fun inventing increasingly ridiculous vomiting noises.
“Even his actual skating isn’t that interesting,” says Langa as the group quiets down. “‘Love hug’ isn’t really about technique, it’s just sabotage.”
“He’s probably not even that good,” says Miya, making Joe snort into his cup (Cherry thumps him on the back), “He’s just the most violent.”
Reki’s eyes light up. Opportunity! He’s been meaning to tell this story for ages .
He grins and leans back, “Nah, he’s not the most violent.”
“Is too!” protests Miya.
“Not even close,” Reki dismisses. “It’s definitely Snake.”
Joe furrows his eyebrows, “Snake? He’s more of an avoidant skater than a violent one.”
Reki keeps his answer vague and joking to get them asking more questions, an anglerfish luring in his audience.
“He’s super violent! He knocked me out!” he says, holding up an open hand and exaggeratedly punching it away, “Bam!”
Joe smiles like he understands the game, “Knocked you out? Like, out of a race?” He asks, playing along.
Reki waves him off, flailing dramatically to add to his story.
“No, no of course not! He knocked me unconscious!”
“Unconscious!” exclaims Joe, with an unserious smile, “He bust you up, kid? Threw a couple of punches?”
“Hit you with his board?” asks Miya, making Joe ruffle his hair.
Reki tries to play it cool, fighting down a grin
“Nah,” he says casually, “he hit me with his car.”
A quiet round of chuckles fill the room. Joe scoffs at him good naturedly and Reki does his best to keep a straight face.
“Isn’t that defamation?”
“I’m not joking.”
The laughter dies. Reki loses against his grin and smiles, relishing in the wreckage of the bombshell he’s dropped.
“You’re talking out your ass,” accuses Shadow, but he looks unsure.
Reki’s grin gets wider as he leans back, dropping the act, “I’m actually not, he really did run me over!”
He giggles as he drinks in the shocked looks on everyone's faces. He can’t wait to turn and see Langa’s reaction–
“He. . . hit you. With a car .” says Cherry in disbelief.
Reki nods enthusiastically before holding up his hands in concession.
“Ok, ok, technically it was outside of S. But I feel like he wins! Adam’s never hit anyone with a car before. That we know of.”
Shadow raises an eyebrow, “Isn’t Snake an adult with a job? Why the hell have you seen him outside of S?”
“Well, first I saw his car–”
Reki feels a hand gripping his shoulder and turns to see Langa staring him dead in the eye.
“Where?” he asks, strangely intense.
“I, uh. . .” Reki trails off.
There’s an upset curve to his lip that isn’t as funny as Reki pictured it being. Not to mention he forgot that this was right after their big fight when Reki was avoiding him and suddenly it’s hard to meet his Langa’s gaze. Reki settles for looking somewhere past his left ear.
“I went to visit Shadow in the hospital and I. . . I kind of chickened out and ran outside. I didn’t really look both ways.”
“You came to visit me?” he hears Shadow ask quietly.
Reki turns to him and smiles, “Of course man! I needed to make sure you were in fighting shape for our next beef! I got myself flattened just to even the odds a little.”
Since he’s hilarious Reki laughs and looks around to watch everyone else crack up.
But they’re still just staring at him.
Shadow’s face seems carefully blank and a glance at Joe and Cherry reveals matching appalled expressions. Langa is looking at him with that strange light in his eyes, a determined set to his jaw.
Reki is forced to hear his laughter taper awkwardly off into silence. Maybe he just needs to say it again for it to be funny. That always works.
“I mean he really mowed me down, you know? Full-on Bambi’s mom in headlights!”
Joe makes a strangled choking sound.
"Hehe. . ." Reki chuckles nervously. Whoops, that didn’t sound like a ‘haha funny’ choke.
Eyes darting around the room, Reki catches a glimpse of Miya and it stops him dead.
The kid’s still as a statue, shoulders dropped and gaze unwavering. Reki’s only seen that look on his face twice; once after Reki’s first race with Adam, all banged up and wincing through a grin, and twice shoving past him on an elevator when he was running away from Langa.
And to think both happened at the same hospital, thinks Reki. Must be something cursed about that place. Oh shit, are those tears!? Reki panics.
“Um,” he says, feeling all the eyes on him, “Just kidding?”
Langa stands up abruptly, making him jump. Reki blinks up at him.
“Langa?”
Langa looks down at him, an unreadable expression pulling at his brows. Is he hungry again? He’s probably hungry again.
Langa opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but instead he turns to Miya.
“Miya,” he starts, voice serene, “I am going to set that man’s house on fire.”
Reki sputters, “Langa!”
The last words he expected to come out of Langa’s mouth! More concerning than his words is the fact that he kind of doesn’t seem to be joking? This isn’t Langa’s joking voice or attitude?
“I found his address,” says Miya, already tapping at his phone, “I got his work too, if you want.”
“Miya!”
“Good,” says Langa, “Shadow, I’m going to need your car.”
Shadow protests but Langa is already walking over to the counter and, good god, he’s putting the skating gloves on. Gloves go on, shit hits the fan. Next thing you know, you’re watching your best friend topple a decade-long skating empire.
“Hey, maybe think about this?” Reki tries weakly.
Sometimes, Reki forgets that Langa is the kind of guy that will duct tape his feet to board and jump off of a cliff on a whim. Joe sighs and stands from his spot on the couch. He spreads his hands, projecting an air of authority.
“Langa, calm down,” he says. “Give Shadow back his keys.”
Langa sulkily gives Shadow his keys back. Shadow pats the pocket where they were supposed to be the entire time and gives Langa an impressed and vaguely frightened look. Reki watches him go through a few seconds of open-mouthed gaping before putting his head in his hands. He hears him mutter something about heart palpitations.
Joe rubs at his temples and takes a breath now that the imminent threat of Langa-induced arson has been contained. For once, Reki is glad to be hearing a voice of reason.
“Carla, call the police.”
Too much reason!
“Why are you calling the police?” Reki says, panicking again, “You literally run an illegal skateboarding operation!”
“Reki’s right!” says Miya, surprising Reki.
“Can’t we just go with Langa’s plan?” Miya continues, taking a crusty BIC lighter out of his pocket and flicking it on with an evil grin.
Reki is no longer surprised. Instead he’s kind of grossed out because that lighter looks like it used to be blue instead of brown.
“Skateboarding aside, Reki is the victim of a violent crime, and we must report it,” says Joe, “And give me that thing, you’re going to burn yourself.”
Violent crime? It didn’t even hurt that bad after a few days! Reki groans, pulling his headband over his eyes in mortification, “Oh my god, it was an accident,” he tries to explain.
“So we’ll press charges for manslaughter instead of attempted murder. Carla, I said call the– Kaoru, where is your damn HAL?!”
Cherry gives Joe a look from where he’s been standing silently, “You put her in the other room so I wouldn’t ‘cheat’ anymore.”
“. . . And I’d do it again!”
Reki snaps back to attention because he had kind of forgotten about Cherry up until this point. The man has stood silently in contemplation ever since Reki opened his big fat mouth and started this whole mess.
Reki doesn’t think he’s going to like what Cherry has to say when he gets done thinking so he tries to wrestle the situation back under control.
“Look I appreciate the concern, but I mean,” he fumbles a bit with his words, everyone’s attention making him awkward, “Snake and I are cool now, so. . .” He rubs the back of his neck self consciously, “Bygones be bygones?”
Shadow’s head shoots up from where it was in his hands, "Bygones be– He hit you with a car !"
"Well, yeah but he helped too! While I was unconscious, he took me to a love hotel."
Oh that was the wrong thing to say. That was the worst thing to say. The silence this time is very obviously sharp and biting.
Luckily, Langa doesn’t seem angry anymore, he just looks kind of confused. It’s an unfairly good look on him. As most things are. No! Focus!
"What exactly is a love hotel?” asks Langa, “I remember you mentioning it before, but I never found out.”
Reki actually feels himself break into a cold sweat, “Ha ha, I mean, it’s just a hotel, y’know? Where people, uh, sleep. And stuff.”
“And have sex!” bursts out Miya, pointing at him, “He took you to the sex hotel!”
Very helpful Miya. He really is a model little brother.
Reki makes the mistake of meeting Langa’s eyes again and shivers when he sees the blizzard brewing behind them.
“What.” says Langa, deadly calm.
A second wave of chills rolls down Reki’s spine, "Okay that sounds bad out of context–"
"How the hell is there any context that makes that okay?!" yells Shadow.
"Well I wasn't looking where I was going when I was leaving the hospital and Snake hit me a little, but– " he quickly adds, watching Joe's brows furrow,
"He was nice enough to take me to a hotel. Which happened to be a love hotel. And then he left me alone! He literally just left me! Okay maybe that still sounds kind of bad-"
“Yes! It does! Because it is in fact very bad! Langa get back here,” orders Joe.
Reki blushes red as he sees Langa trying to sneak out the door with a poorly hidden baseball bat under his shirt. It probably shouldn’t be hot that Langa goes a little crazy when he gets protective. But it is. Maybe he should get hit by cars more often.
“Drop the bat, Langa.” says Joe, unimpressed.
Langa doesn’t even blink, “What bat?”
“Langa. . .” Reki says softly.
Langa turns to the sound of his voice immediately. At the look on Reki’s face, Langa’s jaw unclenches and his shoulders visibly relax; the gloom surrounding him dissipates. He doesn’t drop the bat though.
Reki gives him a smile that he hopes comes off as comforting. If he’s still a little red, it’s because of the embarrassment and nothing else, he tells himself.
“Really, just let it go, man,” he says.
“Just one hit?” pleads Langa, and, oh god, he’s doing that thing with his lower lip that Reki can’t ever, ever say no to and brow is turned up like a sad puppy. . .
. . . one little hit with a baseball bat isn’t too bad, right? It’s Langa, after all!
Reki tugs at his headband, downright bashful, “Well, I mean, I guess. . .”
“No vigilante justice,” says Cherry and the room goes quiet, all eyes turning to him.
Reki swallows nervously. It seems Cherry has finally decided what he’s going to say.
Reki takes a breath and forces himself to look at Cherry. His mouth is in a severe line, but a slight pinch to his brow seems more worried than angry.
Somehow that is not better, thinks Reki, stomach heavy with guilt.
Cherry surveys him, one hand up the sleeve where he keeps his fan, probably fidgeting with it.
He takes a moment to adjust his glasses before returning his attention.
“Reki,” he says. “Are you okay?”
His voice is soft; nothing like the detached tone he likes to take on when skating or the biting cadence he adopts when fighting with Joe. It’s throwing Reki off, making him shift his weight from side to side to compensate for his unbalance.
“Yeah, m’fine,” he mumbles. “He wasn’t actually going too fast. I think I even remember him saying that he was only doing, like, 20 miles per hour.”
Shadow makes a noise of disbelief, “That is not an insignificant speed. And if it was enough to knock you out. . .”
“It really is fine,” insists Reki, “I mean, I’ve probably gotten more banged up skateboarding.”
“He hurt you, Reki,” says Langa, and his voice sounds almost pained, “He could have hit you hard enough that you didn’t get back up. What would I do then?”
This is not how this was supposed to go. Reki was supposed to tell his funny story where he got a little run over and everyone would laugh. But now he’s got all his friends standing around him like some sort of intervention.
“What would any of us do?” adds Joe. “You’re family, kid.”
Reki hopes no one notices his lips tremble at Joe’s words. He thinks Langa might because his friend crosses the room and gathers him in a hug.
Langa’s lanky arms hold him so easily. It’s just as easy for Reki to prop his chin on his shoulder and rest a hand on his back.
“Really, I’m okay,” he insists weakly. Langa just tightens his hold.
It’s nice.
Reki still wants to be launched into the sun.
He lets out a soft oof as an impact wraps around his middle. He looks down and sees Miya’s unkempt little mullet and neon green hoodie. Why this kid insists on dressing like a sour patch gummy Reki will never understand.
“Stupid slime,” mutters Miya.
“It’s not like I tried to get hit,” says Reki, flicking at a strand of his hair. Miya bats away the hand on instinct and pulls back from the hug.
Miya looks like he did when Langa beat him for the first time. His fists are balled like he needs to fight and his eyes are down like he’s surrendered. It’s not easy to look at.
“We know you didn’t try to get hit,” says Cherry. “We’re not mad at you Reki.”
Cherry approaches and Langa releases Reki from his hug, but he keeps an arm around his shoulders.
Cherry, in a very un-Cherry like manner, reaches up and ruffles Reki’s hair. Reki’s so shocked he forgets about being nonchalant. Cherry seems to notice and smiles a little before speaking.
“We’re worried,” he says, “because we learned something bad happened to you and it took us so long to find out. We’re angry for you. We want to help. But it must feel unnecessary since you’re already over it. And so it feels like we’re wronging you instead.”
The awkward pit in Reki’s stomach starts to loosen. Maybe a lifetime in calligraphy does wonders for your speaking abilities too. A wave hits him all at once and Reki tiredly leans into Langa. As a bonus, Langa makes a happy sound and hugs him tighter.
“Hearing that does. . . make me feel better,” Reki admits. He laughs a little, “Geez, how are you so good at this?”
Cherry’s eyes dart almost imperceptibly sideways to Joe.
“Practice,” he says.
Reki feels the warm span of Langa’s palm around his arm and the pressure of his fingertips.
“Yeah?” he asks, hopeful.
“Yes.” says Cherry.
The silence in the room isn’t sharp anymore. There’s a smile tugging at Cherry’s mouth and Langa has rested his head against Reki’s. Miya is still frowning, but it looks like more of an ‘ew feelings’ pout than anything serious. Shadow is grumbling to himself without malice and Joe is smiling.
“We care about you Reki,” Cherry says simply.
“Speak for yourself,” says Shadow.
“No thanks.”
Reki laughs as Shadow lets out an outrageously exaggerated sigh.
“We’re still banning Snake from S, though,” says Cherry and Reki hears an audible record scratch in his mind.
“What!?” He squeaks, “But you said–!”
“You might be over it,” says Langa, squeezing Reki’s shoulder, “But we are not,” like he’s some sort of avenging angel.
Or an avenging snow angel, Reki thinks, mentally fistbumping himself. Then he remembers that this is not funny. A man's skateboarding is at stake.
“Exactly,” says Cherry.
Reki tries to wiggle out from Langa’s grip but he holds firm, “Come on! A little injury doesn’t mean a lifetime ban!”
“We banned the guy who beat up Shadow,” reminds Cherry.
“But that was on purpose,” protests Reki, not sure why he’s fighting so hard, “Snake didn’t mean to hit me.”
“But he did on-purpose take you to a love hotel, kid,” says Joe, “And that is extremely concerning.”
Langa, either consciously or unconsciously pulls him closer and Reki blushes again. He sighs in embarrassment. This conversation is going in circles.
“He didn’t, like, do anything weird. It was probably the closest thing to us!”
“No, the closest thing to you was the hospital he hit you in front of,” says Shadow and Reki can’t really argue with that.
Wait!
“Actually he needed us alone so he could try to bribe my silence!”
“Do you even hear yourself,” asks Shadow, sounding extremely tired. “Everytime you open your mouth it gets worse.”
“Did you take the money?” asks Miya.
Reki sighs. “No, because he said I’d have to give up skateboarding.”
“Then you should have lied, idiot!”
“I wasn’t thinking straight! I’d just been knocked out!”
“Oh yeah.”
Cherry sighs, “What’s final is final. Snake will not be allowed back at S.”
Reki bites at his lip nervously, “ Do you really think. . . Adam will allow that?”
He’s expecting at least a moment of hesitation, but instead Cherry just hmphs and flicks out his fan.
“I don’t give a damn.”
Joe laughs and takes his place next to Cherry, “Seconded!” He rests a hand on his partner’s shoulder, “I’ll let security know tonight we got an update to the banned list.”
“But don’t they work for Adam? Why would they agree to banning their boss’s boyfriend?” insists Reki, feeling insane.
Cherry and Joe are weirdly determined on this whole ban thing, when really it would just invite more trouble than it’s worth. Last thing any of them need is a jilted Adam showing up and hitting on more children. Cherry remains unfazed.
“Adam hasn’t run anything about S for years,” he says, rolling his eyes, “He just pops up like a deadbeat every once in a while, hospitalizes someone, and then prances back to his eyesore of a mansion.”
“But–” starts Reki, and then trails off because he’s run out of arguments.
“Just let them do this for you, kid,” says Shadow from his chair, “they won’t quit until you agree.”
“Or, we could deal with it off the books,” suggests Langa in a tone that promises great violence.
Unfortunately, he’s still close enough for Reki to feel the hum of his voice in his bones and his heartrate starts increasing dramatically. He turns to Cherry expecting him to admonish Langa again for illegal plotting.
“Well if it comes to that. . .” Cherry says instead, giving Reki a heart attack.
“What do you mean ‘if it comes to that’?!” Reki yells as Langa exchanges a nod of understanding with Cherry, “Okay fine! Ban him! Whatever!”
Cherry nods, “I’m glad we could come to an agreement,” he says with a gentle smile and a shark’s eyes because he is a scary, scary man.
Langa lets out a puff of air that tickles the fine hairs around Reki’s ear. Reki cranes his head and sees Langa looks mildly disappointed. He chuckles weakly.
“I’m sure you’ll get’em next time,” he says half-heartedly, patting Langa’s hand.
“I’m sure I will.” says Langa, a shadow of the blizzard passes over his eyes before his face melts into a dreamy smile Reki’s used to seeing, “Can we go get burgers?”
Reki sighs, “Langa, it’s–” he checks his watch and almost chokes, “It’s three in the morning!?”
Miya grumbles and yawns, “I guess that means I gotta leave.”
The tiny child stumbles over to Reki and gives him one last hug around the waist, maybe a little too tired to fully process his actions. The stress of the evening Reki’s been holding in his shoulders loosens as he puts a hand on the little green back.
“Idiot,” says Miya sleepily.
Reki smiles and ruffles his hair again, “Short-stack.”
Miya bats his hand away as usual and gives him another glare, but the effect is severely undercut by how he’s swaying slightly in place.
“Don’t die,” he says to Reki. It’s a plea.
“Not on your life,” reassures Reki. “Go to bed.”
Miya scoffs, but gives a half-smile of satisfaction.
“See you slimes later,” he says, picking up his board and walking down the stairs.
Shadow heaves himself off the chair after him, “Hold on you little roach, I’m your ride home, remember? You don’t even know where the car is.”
Shadow’s voice fades as he descends the stairs. Eventually the ring of a bell is heard and the door shuts, cutting him off.
Reki, Langa, Joe and Cherry are left standing in the quiet apartment.
Reki shifts on his feet, eyes wandering to the empty couch and the random piles of books and knick knacks scattered about. He catches Langa’s eye and sees a flicker of understanding. Langa turns to Joe and Cherry.
“We should probably get going as well,” he says, slightly slipping into politeness as he tends to do. It makes Reki smile.
“We probably should,” he agrees, reluctantly shaking Langa off his shoulder.
Langa slides off his side like grumpy butter in a cold pan and the two make their way to the stairs. Reki tries not to think about Joe and Cherry’s footsteps behind them as they descend into the restaurant. All the attention has worn him out a little.
The four make their way to the glass door and just as both he and Langa have picked up their boards:
“Reki,” says Cherry.
Reki turns to look at the older skater.
He’s standing next to Joe, the two naturally gravitating to each other’s sides in any room they’re in. His hair is tied and loose across his left shoulder and it shifts as he pushes his glasses up.
“Nothing you ever want to share with us is unimportant,” says Cherry, Joe giving a half-nod of agreement.
Ah.
Reki’s throat tightens a little and he wobbles out a crooked smile.
“Noted,” he says weakly, “Next time I get hit by a car, you’ll be the first to know about it.”
“Please no next time,” says Joe, rubbing his temples for the nth time tonight. He gives Reki and Langa an exasperated look as they drift closer to the door, “Get home safe, you two.”
“We will,” says Langa, sparing Reki from speaking further.
Reki turns and walks out the door, the ring of the shop bell follows him. The events of the night replay in his mind like stray oil splash from a pan: fleeting and burning, but fading. The lump in his throat and his stomach sticks, though, even as he and Langa walk in silence to the top of the hill.
The two stop at the rounded precipice. The street slopes down the way home and the storefronts are vacant. Dark splotches of trees swallow patches of landscape where the horizon meets the half-moon sky.
“Reki.”
Reki snaps out of his thoughts to turn to Langa.
Even under dull streetlamp lightning he shines , thinks Reki, aching a little. Whether it’s under the slapdash lighting of S, or the natural full moon light, or the faint glow of Reki’s bedside alarm clock, light is drawn to Langa, reflecting with the opulence of a silver mirror.
“You’re one of the best things in the world,” says Langa, with no warning.
Reki has slowly been getting used to getting blindsided by abrupt affection, and he only sighs as the heat rushes back to his cheeks.
“And you–” he says and stops. Because how could he possibly choose how to end that sentence only one way? “–Need to warn me before saying that stuff.”
“What stuff?” asks Langa, far too innocently.
Reki smiles and bumps him with his shoulder, “Stuff that’s all– y’know–”
“Honest?” offers Langa.
Reki just gets redder and laughs, “Shut up!”
“I do mean it. When I say those things,” says Langa quietly. Reki stops laughing and falls back into longing.
“I know,” he admits. God, he knows.
Langa smiles at him, as if Reki just acknowledging his heartfelt declarations are enough, but it isn’t enough. It’s not enough for Reki because Langa should also hear all of the wonderful things that Reki gets to hear every single day.
His gut churns but he forces himself to speak before he loses his nerve, “You– you make me feel like, out of everywhere in the entire world, I’m exactly where I need to be. With you. A-and it’s only because you’re so. . .”
The problem with speaking before your fear can catch up to you is that your train of thought can’t catch up either.
Reki fumbles with his words, struggling to find a combination that’s right; cramming sentences into nervous bouquets to find the correct arrangement that will let him say what Langa always says so easily.
“I think I could love you,” he blurts like a fool.
Before Langa even has the chance to respond, Reki’s already on damage control, “Not that I don’t love you! Like as a friend! But sometimes. . .”
Reki risks a look at Langa, and oh, he’s waiting patiently for him. Not just patient, but attentive; on the edge of his seat like he has something to hope for. Reki pushes past his clumsy tongue.
“Not sometimes. Often. Actually, I can’t stop thinking about how you make everything better. Skating, weekends, work. . . You make being alive. . . special. Something to look forward to. If that makes any sense. . .”
Reki takes a breath, “What I mean is, I really like you Langa. I already love you as a friend, but. . . I think I’m already on the way to more than that.”
“More than. . . friends?” Langa asks cautiously, and Reki doesn’t dare let himself believe he hears excitement in his voice.
Reki screws up the last of his exhausted courage one last time to look Langa in the eyes.
“Yes.”
He gets to watch as Langa’s face lights up, beaming with the same look he gets when it’s just the two of them at sunset rolling around the skate park. The look he gets when he wraps an arm around Reki’s waist when Reki comes off the half-pipe a little unsteady. The smile that Reki always sees when they close the infinity in their handshake.
Giddy air fills Reki’s chest and mixes with his nerves, lighting them up like a spiderweb of circuits blowing. Why was he so worried? Everything he has been wanting has already been here: evidence in a thousand moments of every day they have ever been friends.
But Langa still hasn’t said anything. And while it is comforting to be stared at like you’re the arm that raises the sun every morning, Reki can’t help a nervous, “Langa?” slip out.
He doesn’t have to worry too much in the end.
Langa doesn’t wait a second longer to step forward and softly tilt his face downwards to press their lips together.
I should get hit by cars more often, Reki thinks, before he wraps his arms around Langa’s shoulders and closes his eyes into the kiss.