Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I feel like I should teach you something, too,” Langa explained. 

Reki frowned, his hair ruffling in the wind. As usual, he had wolfed down his lunch in five seconds flat and was now sitting with his legs crossed, bouncing his knee every few minutes and feeding Langa bites of his bento. “What do you mean?” 

“Because you taught me how to skate,” Langa said. “I should teach you something, too.” The problem was coming up with something he could do that Reki couldn’t. Langa glanced at him. Reki was impressive in so many ways; he was strong and fast and he could mend a skateboard without a owners’ manual and he could cook ten-minute rice in five minutes, and his smile could always make Langa’s heart feel a little lighter, no matter how sad and tired he felt, and okay, okay. 

Langa shook himself a little, to clear his head. He needed to stop thinking about those things all the time. It was becoming a problem. 

“Well,” said Reki, pursing his mouth, and Langa glanced at him and then quickly looked away so he wouldn’t hyperfixate on Reki’s mouth. He was always doing that, lately, especially in class, and then he couldn’t focus on anything else. Then Reki brightened. “I know! You can teach me to speak Canadian!” 

Langa snorted before he could stop himself, covering his mouth. Reki frowned at him. 

“What?” 

“Canadian isn’t a language,” Langa choked out, and Reki sat back, still frowning. 

“What do you mean? Do you guys just mime everything to each other over there?” His headband was slipping over his face, hair adorably messy, and Langa could barely hold himself back from reaching forward and fixing it. He couldn’t do that; he had made a rule for himself, no touching Reki more than necessary, in case Reki started thinking Langa was weird and stopped hanging out with him. 

Before Langa could try to explain how English worked, Reki waved his hand. 

“Ah, it’s just as well,” he said. “I’m no good at learning languages anyway. Let me think.” He stretched his hands in the air, toward the fence behind them, tangling his fingers in the wires and looking toward the sky. Langa allowed himself to look at Reki, just for a minute—well, he promised himself it would only be a minute. Lately even looking at Reki made his cheeks feel warm and his chest feel strangled. It was just that Reki was so expressive, he was always making faces, and seeing his eyebrows furrow or his tongue poke into his cheek did funny things with Langa’s stomach. 

The staring was getting out of hand. So Langa hastily made himself look away again, scolding himself. 

“I know!” said Reki again, dropping his hands and turning to Langa with an excited grin. “You can teach me how to be good with girls!” 

Something cold sank to the bottom of Langa’s stomach. Oh. 

He swallowed. Then he swallowed again, because suddenly his throat felt very dry, the strangled feeling creeping up his chest. He hadn’t known...well, he guessed he should have known, shouldn’t he? Of course Reki liked girls. Of course he did. Reki was grinning, practically vibrating, and of course he would be the type to fix up a fancy sports car just to take pretty girls driving, of course he would be the type to dance with pretty girls in nightclubs, of course he would be the type to declare undying love for a pretty girl on the day he met her. 

Langa should just feel grateful that Reki hadn’t met that pretty girl yet.

He shouldn’t feel like a part of himself was dying inside. 

Langa swallowed a third time. “Oh,” he said, eloquently. “I mean, I’m not very...I don’t know much about...I mean, you know I’ve never had a girlfriend before, don’t you?” 

Reki stared at him, amazed. “Really?” he said, putting his feet on the skateboard in front of them, moving it back and forth. Langa swallowed again, trying not to look at Reki’s bare lower legs. The hair there was thick and it looked soft and Langa knew how strong Reki was and he forced himself to swallow again. The staring again. He had no right to stare. 

“I—of course.” Langa felt all tongue-tied. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for Reki to sit so close, so warm and solid and look so good and then get so excited when asking Langa about girls. It wasn’t fair, but Langa shouldn’t like him anyway, he shouldn’t feel this way, so he took a deep breath and tried to explain, “I’m sort of— I’m kind of—you know, awkward.” His cheeks itched. 

Reki shook his head. “Ah, don’t say that! You’re super smooth. The girls in our class are always looking at you.” 

“No,” Langa tried to say, but Reki talked over him, the way he did sometimes when his mouth moved faster than his brain and he forgot to pay attention to people around him. 

“You totally are, dude. You’re super cool and you smell good, like a clothes store, and you make the uniform look better than anybody else. See, you’re cool! Except when you’re wiping out in the skate park, but there are no girls around then to see you, just me.” 

“Just you,” Langa echoed distantly. 

“Yeah, dude,” said Reki. He patted Langa’s arm, and his hand was so warm that Langa sagged, a little, against the fence. When Reki was done with his patting, he left his hand there, soft and solid, creasing the sleeve of Langa’s uniform. Langa looked at his lap so he wouldn’t stare at Reki’s hand. He liked the way that Reki’s knuckles were knobbly and red and the way he had a Pokemon band-aid wrapped around his thumb because it was all he’d had at home when Langa accidentally rolled his wheel over Reki’s fingers. It was such a nice hand, and Langa felt like crying all over again. He wanted to hold Reki’s hand. He wanted to feel that warm weight against his palm, but he couldn’t, and he needed to get a handle on himself before he had a breakdown right here on the school roof, over something silly. 

“What do you want me to do?” he managed. If Reki wanted Langa to find him a girlfriend—well. Langa wanted to say he wouldn’t do it, but he would. He owed Reki, after all, but it wasn’t just that, it was also, just, god, he wanted Reki to be happy. If having a girlfriend would make Reki’s smiles bigger and his laughter louder, then how could Langa deny the world something so wonderful?

“Lemme think—lemme think,” Reki said, leaning against the fence, letting his hand slide idly down Langa’s arm, and Langa’s body burned with every inch. “Well, have you ever been on a date?”

Langa hesitated. “Once, I...I think?” 

“Okay,” said Reki. “Did you kiss her?” 

Langa flushed. There had been no her, but his tongue was still tied up, and he wasn’t sure how to explain something like that to Reki. Not because Reki would have a problem with it, of course not, he would probably sit up and wave his hands around erratically and apologize profusely for assuming. Reki would make a big deal out of it. But maybe he would take his hand off Langa’s arm, and Langa ached when he thought about Reki taking those touches away. They touched so often, so casually. Langa would cradle those touches against his chest until he died. 

“Sort of,” he admitted, and Reki bounced his feet on the skateboard. 

“So you know how to kiss!” He looked at Langa with a big grin on his face, his pretty eyes all squinted up at the corners, smile lines deep like crow’s feet, and Langa’s stomach went cold and bottomless with the realization of what he was about to say, just as Reki said, “That’s something you can teach me!” 

“How—” Langa sputtered, his mind fragmenting into images of Reki’s mouth, his hair, his hands (his hands on Langa’s face) and god, no, he couldn’t think about kissing Reki, if he thought about that his whole body was going to break out in a cold sweat and then he would have to go to class all sweaty with his mind full of kissing Reki,

but before he could figure out how to emphatically refuse, the warning bell rang, and Reki scrambled to his feet, tilting back and forth on the skateboard. “I owe you one, Langa!” he said. “Well, I guess you owe me first, right?” 

His grin was so bright, the sun behind his hair lighting up his face and Langa’s mind fragmented further, hopelessly, into a million pieces of Reki Reki Reki. Oh no, he thought desperately, oh no. 

It was impossible to pay attention in class. Of course Langa sat right next to Reki, which was normally not a problem, no, they were friends, they were just friends and Langa could handle a little thing like sitting next to Reki and watching him make faces at the board. Except Reki kept doing the thing where he poked his tongue into his cheek, to concentrate, and Langa’s brain got derailed thinking about Reki’s tongue, god, Reki’s tongue touching his own, and no, that should be gross. It should definitely be gross. Why was he sweating? 

“Oi,” Reki whispered across the aisle. “Langa. You’re breathing funny, you good?” 

His tongue was pressed to the top of his teeth when Langa glanced at him, and Langa felt his breath stick traitorously in his throat, and he coughed in his arm. And then he choked for real, and he couldn’t stop coughing, and Reki bounced up out of seat to pat him on the back. 

“Please sit down, Reki,” said their teacher from the board, sounding weary. 

“Sorry, sir!” 

Langa rubbed his mouth, still hunched over his desk, feeling the warm weight of Reki’s hand on his back. God. Jesus. Fuck. He was in trouble. 

“You wanna come over before S?” asked Reki, balanced on his board outside the school gates, as Langa tied his sneakers. He dropped his laces clumsily, on purpose, just to buy himself time, because he was sure the blush was rising in his face. 

All he could see were Reki’s feet, his constantly shifting feet, moving around the board, tilting it one way and another. Reki was always in motion. It was one of the reasons Langa couldn’t stop staring at him all the time. 

“Um...to study?” Langa fumbled with the words. They rarely studied together, they both had miserable grades and Reki always wanted to ditch the books to run outside and skate, and Langa could never deny him anything, god, he was really helpless, wasn’t he? But when he thought about what else they might do at Reki’s house...well, his chest was already getting tight and strangled again and he didn’t need to start coughing his lungs up again. 

“Oh,” said Reki. He cleared his throat. “Well, no. I was thinking...we could, you know, do what we were talking about at lunch.” 

Langa dropped his laces again, staring down into the dirt. God, how could Reki just say things like that? It was like he had no brain-to-mouth filter, and Langa swallowed hard, trying not to think of all the things Reki might say if they actually ended up kissing. That feels good, he would say, shifting in Langa’s lap, tugging absentmindedly on the ends of his hair, I think we should do it some more. You wanna do more, Langa?

Langa stood up abruptly. His chest was a tight, hot ball against his ribcage, and he said, “Sure.” 

Reki chattered for most of the ride home, coasting along next to Langa. He could talk on and on if Langa let him, and Langa usually did, because he didn’t mind listening, in fact he usually liked it. Reki knew so much, mostly about skating but also about the places they passed, small things like dented cafe chairs and bus stop graffiti, and Langa never minded the ways he interrupted his own stories when he spotted something new. 

Today, though, he couldn’t focus. Would Reki really want them to kiss each other? Or would he make Langa practice on one of his pillows? And, god, Reki’s pillows always smelled like him and Langa was going to lose his mind. 

Before he could catch himself, his board ran off the curb and he stumbled, toppling off backward as the board went flying out from under his feet. 

Reki screeched to a stop. “Hey!” he said. “Don’t die on me.” He jumped off his own board and grabbed Langa’s before it rolled down into the street below. Langa straightened up, rubbing at his elbows sheepishly, but Reki just grinned at him. “Did you get a boo-boo? Need me to kiss it better?” 

Langa’s face was burning. “No.” 

“Aw, I’m just kidding. You’re the kissing expert here, not me.”

“Stop,” said Langa, because his tongue was all tied up and he was pretty sure he was going to die, and Reki laughed and punched his shoulder good-naturedly, like a bro, because they were just bros, and he said, 

“We’re almost home anyway. Here. Carry this. I don’t want you going flying into the street again.” 

Langa made a face at him, but he tucked his board under his arm, and he waited until Reki’s back was turned to flip him off, hands still shaking. 

Reki kicked the bedroom door closed behind them, and then cursed to himself when it bounced back open, and Langa flopped onto his back on Reki’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

He listened to Reki moving around the room, throwing their backpacks onto his desk chair, opening the window to the warm summer air, so Langa could hear the sounds from the street outside, bicycle bells jingling and mothers calling to their children. Through Reki’s walls he could also hear his sisters playing, one of them knocking repeatedly against the wall to Reki’s bedroom, and Langa let his eyes sink closed. Reki’s house was always loud, but that was okay. Langa kind of liked the distraction. 

“Hey, so,” said Reki, and the mattress dipped when he sat down next to Langa, his body warm where his thigh fit against Langa’s side. He’d always been so comfortable touching Langa, cuddling up against him when they watched skating videos, and he had even once laid in Langa’s lap. That memory was one of Langa’s most precious memories, and he often lay awake in bed, daydreaming about that afternoon. For a wonderful hour and a half, Langa had been allowed to run his hands through Reki’s soft hair while Reki talked about Shadow and his girlfriend-not-girlfriend. Langa would give almost anymore for another chance to play with Reki’s hair like that. 

The mattress shifted again, and Langa opened his eyes and squinted up at Reki’s, whose hair was a messy halo of red around his face. In the sunlight from the window, his cheeks were pink and the smile lines around his mouth were dimpled and golden, and suddenly, achingly, Langa wanted to kiss him more than anything. 

“You really want to practice,” Langa said, sort of a question, sort of not, trying to keep his voice low so no one would hear, watching Reki’s face as he scrunched his nose up. God. He was adorable. Langa could just...with his hands cupping Reki’s warm sunburnt face...his fingers slipping into the soft cloud of his hair…

“Yeah,” said Reki, but his voice wavered just a little, and he sat back slightly, out of Langa’s direct line of sight. “I mean, not if you’re uncomfortable, dude. I didn’t think about that. Are you uncomfortable? I should’ve asked that to begin with, I didn’t think, huh, I really should’ve…” 

“I’m not uncomfortable,” said Langa, and the words died in Reki’s throat, and he bobbed his head instead, a single nod. Langa swallowed as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, across from Reki, their knees knocking against each other, the sun lighting up the fair hair on Reki’s calves. Langa swallowed again. 

“You sure, dude?” Reki asked. 

“I’m sure,” said Langa. And how could he say no when Reki was giving him a chance to touch him? He had wanted to kiss Reki since the first day he managed an ollie and Reki had leapt to his feet, his enthusiasm bubbling over, his palm warm and rough with callouses when he slapped it against Langa’s. He had stood so close that day, his face creased up in the biggest smile, and Langa had smiled back, thinking, he’s so nice, and then, he looks so pretty, and then, I’d like to kiss that smile, and then, oh no, oh no, oh no. 

Oh no indeed. 

“Okay,” said Reki, fiddling with his sleeves, tugging them down and then up and then making a face. “Can I take off my sweatshirt? Sorry. It’s just. I’m just.” 

“It’s okay,” said Langa, and Reki wrestled with his bulky sweatshirt, and Langa tried to breathe, averting his eyes when Reki dragged the sweatshirt off and his t-shirt rode up over his stomach. He knew that sometimes things like that bothered Reki. They’d be cuddling and Reki would suddenly bounce up and switch positions and explain that his brain felt funny. 

But the stalling didn’t last long, and then Reki was settling in front of him again, closer than before. “Okay,” Reki said again. “So, um. How does this work? What should I...what should I do?” 

Langa took another breath. He tried to think, but his brain felt all clogged up with the way Reki’s hair fell messily over his face, mussed from taking off his hoodie. “Um,” Langa said. “Well, I guess, if you were with a girl you probably wouldn’t kiss until after you went on a first date? So, uh, pretend we were just on a date, I guess.” 

Reki nodded slowly, glancing up toward the ceiling, then toward the window, thinking. “Okay,” he said. “I’d take you to the skate park. And we’d practice for a while, and then get ramen.” 

Langa felt warm all over, even when a breeze blew through the open window, ruffling Reki’s wild hair. “Not me,” he made himself say. “That’s not what I...just pretend I’m a girl, alright?” 

Reki glanced back at him, and for a moment his eyebrows furrowed, and he looked like he was going to ask a question, but then the lines in his face smoothed away. “Okay,” he agreed. “You’re pretty, you know, Langa? I think that’s why all the girls like you so much.” 

The heat in Langa’s face rose, and for a moment he couldn’t work any words around his tongue. God. His cheeks were burning. The way Reki said his name—the way he called Langa pretty, so casually, so honestly. How could he just say things like that casually? Langa had spent one too many nights mourning Reki’s own prettiness with his pillow clutched to his chest, and here was Reki casually complimenting him, as if Langa being pretty were simply a fact, an easy truth. 

“You’re breathing funny again,” Reki observed, reaching forward and tucking some of Langa’s hair behind his ear, and the band-aid around his thumb brushed against Langa’s cheek and Langa swallowed through the lump in his throat. 

“Sorry,” he said, and Reki laughed a little, settling his hands back into his lap, and Langa’s hair fell back into his face again. 

“Don’t be sorry,” said Reki. “I’m the idiot with no experience. Well, that’s why I’m learning! So, okay, tell me what to do.” 

He sat there, hands in his lap, waiting eagerly for Langa’s instruction, completely oblivious to the way Langa’s throat went dry before he could swallow again. Jesus. Reki had no idea what he sounded like. Langa could tell him to do anything, except of course he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, Reki was his friend and Langa was going to be a good friend and he was not going to take advantage of Reki’s innocence by asking him to lay down and let Langa run through his fingers through his hair, over and over and over until he finally satisfied the deep ache in his chest. 

No. Langa swallowed. “Okay, um. I guess you should. You should ask first.” 

“If I can kiss you?” 

“Her,” Langa corrected, his throat dry again. “If you can kiss her.” 

Reki nodded slowly, watching Langa’s face, and Langa saw the way Reki’s eyes dropped to his mouth, and a shiver ran through Langa’s body, so he had to clench his hands in his lap. Reki’s voice was soft when he asked, “Can I kiss you, Langa?” 

Langa shivered again, because Reki had said his name a hundred times but never like that, and he nodded, because he wasn’t sure he had any words for the way Reki’s eyelids went heavy-lidded in front of him. 

Reki leaned forward, and Langa remembered to lift his hand and put it against Reki’s jaw, and god, the weight of Reki’s face settling into his palm—he was so warm. Reki paused and opened his eyes again and glanced down at his own hands. Then Reki put his palm against Langa’s face, too, fumbling a bit with the grip, the band-aid tickling the place where Langa’s jaw met his neck. Reki could probably feel the way Langa swallowed once, twice, three times, 

and then Reki leaned in again and Langa’s brain shut down. 

He vaguely registered the hesitant brush of skin against skin, the three seconds when Reki lingered against him before pulling back, flustered. “Did I do something wrong?” he was asking, before Langa could open his mouth. “You didn’t move.” 

Langa blinked, trying to focus on Reki’s face, his mind still lagging on the feeling of his lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Langa said slowly, watching the way Reki’s eyebrows creased together, his mouth pulling to one side like he was self-conscious, and Langa’s stomach sank as he suddenly understood.

Reki had asked to practice because he didn’t think he was good enough. 

Langa squeezed his eyes shut so he didn’t have to see that look on Reki’s face. Of course Reki probably compared himself to Langa, who got love confessions in his locker every other week, he probably stared at himself in the mirror and wondered if he was doing something wrong. Langa never wanted Reki to feel that way. He wanted Reki to know how wonderful Langa thought he was, but Reki didn’t care about that, he only wanted Langa to help him practice, so he could go on to be wonderful to other people. 

“Do it again,” Langa whispered, a bit hoarse. “It was—it was good.”

Reki made an aborted noise in the back of his throat, and Langa wished his stomach wouldn’t clench at every sound Reki made, and then Reki put his hands carefully on Langa’s face and leaned in again. 

This time the kiss was softer, still hesitant, the lightest touch as if Reki was afraid of putting too much pressure on Langa’s mouth. Langa could feel the tickle of his exhale, and something hot itched in his palms, until he placed them, warm, on Reki’s shoulders. Their knees fumbled against each other as Langa moved closer, Reki’s head tilting, and then their mouths slotted together and Langa’s throat closed up . 

He could feel Reki’s rapid heartbeat through the skin near his neck, and after only ten quick beats Reki pulled back barely an inch to gasp a breath. “Sorry,” he mumbled, leaning in again, their mouths bumping, and Langa squeezed his eyes shut, allowing Reki to fumble with the new kiss while his own stomach clenched and unclenched and clenched in time to Reki’s pulse. 

It felt good. It felt so good that Langa wanted to die, because what if Reki pulled away again and rubbed the kiss off his mouth with his sleeve and said that was enough? Langa held tightly to his shoulders, tilting his head against to deepen the kiss because he might not have another chance. 

This time when Reki pulled away, Langa had to pause to catch his breath, too, and shame began to crawl up the neck of his neck like a flush. God. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? He had wanted too much. Maybe he had made Reki uncomfortable, except, please, please, he just wanted to kiss him again, please. 

Langa squinted his eyes half-open, to gauge Reki’s reaction. If he looked uncomfortable, Langa was going to grab his things and make a hasty escape. But Reki just looked flushed and unsure, touching his lips with his fingers and then quickly shoving his hand in his lap when he saw Langa looking. 

“Was it—” Reki’s voice broke off and he cleared his throat before trying again. “Was it alright?” 

“It was good,” said Langa, and then he flushed, because he sounded too genuine, he sounded too much like he wanted Reki to push him over onto the bed and lie on top of him and kiss him in the dying light until they could taste nothing but each other. “I mean—uh. I think you’re okay. I’m not a kissing expert or anything, but it was—it was enjoyable. I mean. Um.” 

Reki still looked unsure, scratching one wrist, looking out the window and then down at the bed and then back up at Langa. “Is that—” He hesitated. “Is that all there is? I felt like—” He frowned, his mouth working over the words. “I felt like I could be doing more.” 

He sounded determined, a bit worried. Langa’s stomach ached again. He thought about what it would be like to smooth his hands over the creases in Reki’s face, over his wild hair, and whisper that Reki was doing enough—that he was enough. He thought about how Reki would smile against his hand and surge forward to kiss Langa again, more enthusiastic this time, sending them toppling backward, Langa gripping the back of his t-shirt, the both of them laughing against each other’s mouths because Langa would want him no matter what. 

“Well, um.” Langa cleared his throat. His first kiss had been very brief, and it had ended badly, very badly, but Langa quickly put that memory aside. This moment was about Reki. “It depends, um, on what you want, and um, what the girl wants, I guess. You can do whatever you like, I don’t really…”

“What do you like?” Reki interrupted, and Langa swallowed, his throat dry. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Is there something you like when you’re kissing somebody?” 

“I told you,” said Langa, his voice weak, “I’m not some kind of expert, I don’t have—I don’t have very much experience.”

He could tell from the way Reki raised his eyebrows that he didn’t believe that, but Reki still said, “Okay,” and then, scratching his wrist again, “maybe we could try again? And whatever you do, I’ll try to copy it.” 

He brightened up again, like he thought this was a good idea, grinning a bit, and Langa’s stomach twisted, because this was beginning to feel like the way Reki had tried more and more dangerous tricks on his skateboard to try to copy the things Langa did without thinking. But he nodded anyway. There was no way Reki could hurt himself by kissing, at least not with Langa. Langa would make sure he was okay. 

“Okay,” Langa said, “but it’s probably going to be bad, just a fair warning.” 

Reki scoffed, still smiling, and Langa’s stomach eased a bit, at that smile. “Aw, it won’t be bad,” he said. “C’mere.” And he tucked his hand over Langa’s shoulder, the same way he did when they were hanging out together at lunch, and it was the most natural motion he had made since they started this whole mess, and Langa’s heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces Reki pulled him in to kiss him again. 

Because this— the way Reki’s mouth found his own more easily than before, the way he breathed in just before pressing close—this must be how Reki would kiss him if he was doing it just because he wanted to.

Langa swallowed back the lump in his throat as he cupped Reki’s face again, and this time Reki was the one to shift closer, and even that tiny bit of confidence made Langa’s whole body feel weak, his arms sagging as Reki held onto his elbows. Reki’s mouth was warm; the way his thumbs rubbed up and down Langa’s arms was warm, and Langa began to lose himself in the feeling of Reki kissing him, eyes closed and mind swimming, until a breeze blew through his hair and Langa remembered he was supposed to be trying something new. 

He pulled away, just barely, and Reki made a soft noise, chasing his mouth, and Langa squeezed his eyes shut again, his palms hot as their mouths pressed together again. God. Reki was so eager. Langa was going to die, he was going to die, and before he could overthink it, he touched the tip of his tongue to Reki’s bottom lip. 

Reki’s whole body paused. Langa hesitated—he had never done this before, he had only watched videos—but when he slid his tongue over the seam of Reki’s mouth, it felt so good, it felt so good that Langa didn’t want to stop, he wanted to come apart in Reki’s arms, Reki’s hands gripping him so tightly, and then Reki made another soft noise, and Langa’s chest melted. 

Reki’s head tilted, his lips parting slightly when Langa ran his tongue over his bottom lip again, and Reki made a sort of rasping sound and then the tip of his tongue touched Langa’s and Langa’s brain short-circuited, so good so good it felt so good , and Reki did it again, and his tongue was hot and Langa was hot, his whole body alight, burning up, and he could hear himself panting into Reki’s mouth. 

“You good, dude?” Reki whispered, against his lips, rubbing his thumbs over Langa’s arms harder, soothing, almost a massage, and Langa wanted to cry, he wanted to grab the back of Reki’s head and kiss him again and again and again. This had been a mistake. How was he ever going to look at Reki’s mouth again without feeling the touch of his tongue, the burning in his chest? Reki handled him so gently. It made Langa want to collapse. 

“Yeah,” Langa whispered back, shaky, and Reki sat up, so Langa couldn’t feel the warmth of his breath anymore, and it took him a moment to collect himself, to swallow down all the words he wanted to say: don’t go, kiss me again, I never want to stop.   

 “We did good,” Reki said, as if he was reassuring Langa, and Langa swallowed and nodded even though he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, kissing his best friend until his mind went fuzzy, and Reki grinned, and Langa remembered, oh, that’s why. 

“It was—” Langa tried to find a word that wouldn’t give up the way his heart throbbed at the light shining off Reki’s eyes. “You’re right,” he said, instead. “Do you feel, um. Like you learned something?” 

Reki nodded, but then he bit the inside of his cheek and glanced at the window, where the leaves from his tree were waving into the bedroom. “Well,” he said. “Well, maybe we could do it again tomorrow? I feel like I have a lot more to learn, you know, like how to use tongue, and what to do with my hands, and how to use teeth—wait, are you ever supposed to use teeth? Like I know you’re not supposed to, but what if you do, and it feels kinda good, then is it okay?” 

Langa took a deep, careful breath, trying to stop the flush rising to his face. Reki looked at him with the ghost of a grin still hovering around his mouth, waiting for Langa to answer, and Langa’s voice was only a little strangled when he said, “We can, um, we can try, I guess.” 

“You sure?” 

Langa nodded, and Reki paused, so Langa said aloud, “Yes, I’m sure,” and the grin settled back onto Reki’s face, warm and sure and happy, and Langa’s whole body ached. He wanted Reki to look that way always—confident. Maybe Langa could make him feel like that, if only for a little while.