Chapter Text
Langa had no way of knowing this would be the last week.
If someone had told him- if the sky had split open, if the wind had whispered it in his ear, if a flock of birds had flown in a perfect X above the street- he still wouldn’t have believed it. Because nothing about this felt final. Nothing about Reki, warm beside him under the weight of his blankets, felt like someone who could just… vanish.
Langa had always loved the world. Not in the poetic, save-the-earth kind of way, but in the way a kid loves things before they know they’re supposed to explain why. He liked how ants moved in perfect lines. He liked the sharp smell of rain on the pavement. He liked birdsong more than music, and the way the wind made trees talk to each other. The sounds, the quiet mechanics of nature- it all made sense to him in a way people sometimes didn’t.
But not Reki. Reki always made sense.
Reki made more sense than anything else in Langa’s life.
He was bright in a way the sun tried to copy. Loud and funny, but never too much- not to Langa. He was kind, the kind of kind that meant attentive, not polite. He knew when to speak and when to shut up. He always bent just slightly toward Langa in public, shielding him from the noise without ever making a show of it. They both skated. They both laughed too hard at dumb cartoons. They both talked with their hands.
In Langa’s eyes, Reki was exactly what a boyfriend should be.
They were buried in blankets now, limbs tangled lazily, heads ducked low as laughter bubbled up between them like a private joke only they understood. The room smelled faintly of clean laundry (courtesy of Langa’s mother, who’d left a folded pile of clothes on his desk chair), and the lava lamp beside his bed casted a soft orange blur across the walls.
The curtains- sheer and cheap, from some homeware store his mom liked- let the moonlight leak in just enough to catch in Reki’s hair.
Posters of wildlife covered the walls: a lynx with alert yellow eyes, a foggy mountaintop with snow, a trio of penguins huddled like close friends. A forgotten glass of water on the side table, wired earphones coiled next to it. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except how close they were.
Reki’s arm was slung loosely around Langa’s shoulders, his other hand splayed against Langa’s palm in front of them, fingers pressed to fingers in a quiet habit they’d done for years. Langa’s hands were longer, more angular.
“Why are your hands so big?” Reki muttered, voice soft and slightly muffled by Langa’s hair. He pushed his hand into Langa’s palm more, playfully. “Like, what for seriously?”
Langa tilted his head slightly, shoulders shifting against Reki’s as he shrugged. “For holding you,” he said, deadpan.
Reki let out a choked laugh, pulling his hand back just to swat him in the chest. “Gross. You’ve been hanging out with me too long.”
“You like it.”
“Hey!” He shot back, but there was hesitation, and a pause. ‘...Okay, maybe I do.”
Langa turned his eyes and watched him. Watched the way the light flickered across Reki’s lashes, how his mouth curved faintly even when he wasn’t talking. He reached up, lightly brushed a lock of hair from Reki’s forehead. It was a gentle thing, thoughtless and practiced.
“I like when things feel like this,” Langa suddenly said.
Reki glanced at him, brow lifting slightly, the expression from before melting into something quieter. Something almost solemn. “Then we’ll keep it that way.”
It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t even a romantic declaration. It was a fact. Something Langa already knew but needed to hear out loud anyway. Reki said it like he’d already built his whole life around making that true.
There was a moment where neither of them spoke. Just the hum of the lava lamp, the distant city outside the cracked window, the soft rise and fall of their breathing.
Reki shifted again, tucking Langa’s head under his chin. “I could stay like this forever,” he whispered.
Langa didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just sunk deeper into the embrace.
He always liked the way things slowed down at night. The world felt easier to hold when it was quieter, when it stopped asking so much of him. And with Reki beside him, laughing against his shoulder, it didn’t just feel manageable- it felt safe.
“... They mate for life,” Langa said suddenly, his voice whispering.
Reki blinked. “Huh?”
“Penguins,” Langa murmured, threading his fingers through Reki’s yet again with quiet ease. His palm always felt steady. “Most of them mate for life. But sometimes… they don’t. Some split up after just one season.”
Reki shifted closer, his smile curling at the corners. “So even penguins can’t make it work sometimes, huh?”
“They try,” Langa said thoughtfully. “Some of them steal pebbles from other nests. To build better ones. To impress their mates.”
Reki laughed, the sound muffled into Langa’s hair again. “God, I’d fall for anyone who brought me a rock.”
“You would,” Langa agreed, eyes soft. “You’d carry it around for weeks and then forget where you put it.”
Reki grinned, pressing his face more into Langa’s blue strands. “Hey, I’m sentimental.”
“I know.” Langa looked up at him again, and Reki’s smile deepened, like he could feel it, the weight of being seen so clearly.
A beat passed. Then Reki exhaled a quiet laugh. “Is this all you think about? Penguins? Random animal facts?”
Langa didn’t answer right away. He shifted, just enough so that their hands fell between them, their palms brushing. Langa tightened his grip slowly, deliberately.
He considered the question.
“No,” he said eventually, with that low, matter-of-fact tone that always made Reki’s stomach flip. “I think about you, as well.”
Reki stared at him for a moment, a look that spoke volumes without a single word.
“Well, I’d hope so,” he said softly.
Langa smiled, then let out a bright, airy laugh.
“What?” Reki asked, grinning as their hands remained intertwined. “Why are you laughing?”
“Nothing,” Langa said through his grins. “You’re just… you. And I like that.”
Reki rolled his eyes. “Okay, that’s sappy.”
“But it’s true,” Langa replied.
They stayed like that for a while, limbs warm under the blankets, chests rising and falling in sync. Every so often, Langa would say something else- about how penguins bow to each other before they mate, or how some species let their chicks ride on their feet to keep warm. And Reki listened, half-asleep, but always smiling.
And when Reki left later that night- after brushing his thumb along Langa’s jaw and kissing him slow at the front door- Langa watched him disappear down the apartment stairs, leaning against the frame, watching him until he was gone from view- already missing him.
… He didn’t know this was the last Sunday.
He didn’t know the week would end with everything quiet in a different way.
But for now, everything was warm. And slow. Just the way he liked it. So it was fine.
-
The morning unfurled slow and pale over the rooftops, all soft golds and quiet blues. Puddles from last night’s rain clung to the gutter edges, their surfaces smooth as mirrors, barely rippling as the neighbourhood stretched awake. A pair of birds skittered along a wire overhead, their feathers fluffed against the chill, and the breeze tugged lazily at the ends of telephone wires and hanging laundry lines.
Langa had been awake since six.
He always was.
There was comfort in routine- something almost sacred in the way his body moved before his thoughts could catch up. Pull the curtains. Fold the blanket neatly. Make his bed even though it would be unmade again in sixteen hours. Toast, jam, juice. Wash the plate. Brush his teeth. Fix his hair- though it never really needed fixing. Double-check the forecast, even if it was the same as yesterday's most of the time. Slip on his hoodie. Grab his board.
He liked this part of the morning best: the quiet hum of everything starting.
Now, he stood outside at the end of Reki’s street with his board resting at his side, shoulder leaning into the pole of a faded street sign. The wind ticked cool against his jaw. Somewhere nearby, a washing machine rattled from a cracked-open window. The world wasn’t quite awake yet- but it was trying.
He watched a bird pick its way along the sidewalk. A Blue Rock Thrush. Its head tilted sharply, then sharply again, like it was questioning something only it understood. The sky above was an even gray-blue, not stormy but not sunny either, like it hadn’t quite decided what kind of day it wanted to be.
Langa liked days like this. The not-sure ones. The in-betweens.
A flick of colour appeared down the street. Reki.
He skated down the street with his usual uneven momentum, one sleeve of his hoodie shoved up to the elbow, hair a windblown mess that made it look like he’d fought a leaf blower and lost. A granola bar was stuffed between his teeth. He waved with his hand, already grinning. “Hey,” Reki said around the granola bar, hopping off his board as he reached him. “You been waiting long?”
Langa shook his head. “Two minutes.”
“Feels like you're always here before me.”
“I am.”
Reki snorted, finally finishing the last of his breakfast.
“Overachiever.”
They set off together down the street, the city slowly waking around them. They didn’t always talk when they skated. Sometimes it was enough just to move. But today, Reki had energy to burn- he pushed off with a little too much force and twisted to glance back over his shoulder.
“Race to school?”
Langa raised an eyebrow. “You want to lose again?”
“That’s not very boyfriend-y of you,” Reki called, already accelerating, his voice carried by the wind.
Langa didn’t chase. Not really. He pushed forward at his own pace, steady and graceful in a way Reki had once called “annoying in a hot kind of way,” and caught up effortlessly at the next intersection, where the crossing signal blinked red.
Reki was breathless. “Okay, yeah, I forgot you were so fast.”
Langa smirked faintly, eyes flicking up to the power lines where a row of more birds (Brown Eared Bulbul’s) had settled. His gaze trailed from them to the treetops- water still clinging to the leaves, early sun caught in delicate threads between branches. Then down again, to the tiny patch of yellow flowers poking through a sidewalk crack. He nudged one with his shoe.
The light changed. They pushed off again.
Down the long street that ran toward the school gates, they weaved through puddles and past morning joggers. The breeze picked up as they gathered speed, tugging at Reki’s hoodie and pushing strands of Langa’s hair back from his face.
For all the years they'd done this- skated this same route, traced the same corners- there was something different in the air now compared to the past. It was the comfort of it. The routine. The fact that being beside each other now felt so normal it had stopped being a question.
They slowed near the school gates, boards gently clacking as they rolled to a stop.
Reki kicked up his board, holding it between his arm and bumped shoulders with Langa again. “If we ever stop doing this,” he said, a little out of breath, “I’ll probably lose my mind.”
Langa was quiet a second longer than usual.
Then, simply he said, “Then we won’t stop.”
Reki blinked at him, caught off guard- but not in a bad way. His smile softened.
“Alright, then. Deal.”
They stepped through the gates together and through the entrance. The tiled hallway still smelled faintly of disinfectant. A few locker doors clanged open and shut around them, echoing off the high ceiling. Langa reached for his, quiet as ever, the sound of keys against his locker as he opened it. Reki’s hand brushed his as he passed, warm and fleeting.
“I’ll be two seconds,” Reki said, flashing a crooked smile before veering off a few feet toward a small group of classmates clustered near the wall.
Langa nodded without looking up. He didn’t mind waiting. He rarely did, especially not for Reki.
The group was mostly familiar faces- Reki’s sort-of friends, the kind you shared snacks with during break or passed scribbled notes to in class. Not close enough for secrets, but friendly enough for jokes. Reki greeted them with easy laughter, his voice already bright with some half-formed impression.
“I’m getting better at math, I swear,” someone was saying. “But if we have another test this week, I might just drop out.”
Reki leaned against the wall dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d been shot. “The principal would be so disappointed. Actually, wait-” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice into a gravelly attempt at the principal’s exact tone. “‘If you abandon your academic potential, you abandon your future.’”
The group burst out laughing. Even Langa huffed a quiet breath, watching from his place near the lockers.
One of the girls swatted Reki’s shoulder, giggling. “That was disturbingly accurate. Do it again.”
“You’re all just jealous I’ve been training for this role my entire life,” Reki declared, puffing out his chest and making a proud face.
And then, casually, someone asked a question- just tossed it out like it wasn’t going to change the whole tone.
“So… how long have you and Langa been dating, again?”
Reki hesitated just half a second, catching up with the change in conversation. “Pftt-“ He waved his hand. “Long enough for him to hate my jokes.” He said with a laugh.
It was light.
Langa, who had just shut his locker, stepped forward into the circle like he belonged there all along besides Reki.
“I don’t hate them-” He said plainly.
“-I like them because they’re from you.”
The space around them shifted. Not in a big way. Just… softened.
His voice wasn’t embarrassed. Wasn’t shy. Just real.
And Reki- who could usually come up with a hundred responses in a second- stood there, cheeks flushing red, grinning like someone had just pulled the floor out from under him.
Someone whistled. Another person murmured something like “cute,” but Langa didn’t break eye contact with Reki, like he hadn’t said it for anyone else to hear.
“You’re such a sap,” Reki muttered, smiling as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to cool the heat in his face.
“Still don’t hate them,” Langa added, barely lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal.
The bell hadn’t rung yet. The hall was still filled with idle chatter and the shuffle of bags. But for a second, it all felt quieter.
Reki cleared his throat, looking away but not moving. “Alright, alright. Let’s not get sentimental in the school hall of all places
Langa’s lips twitched. “Too late.”
They walked to class together, steps naturally in sync.
And behind them, one of Reki’s classmates whispered, “They’re kind of perfect, huh?”
And no one disagreed.
The classroom lights were already on when they stepped inside. Fluorescents, humming faintly overhead in that way no one else ever seemed to notice. Too high-pitched to be a real sound, but still there- buzzing against the back of his head, threading between his temples. Langa blinked against the glare and rubbed the corner of his thumbnail with his index finger, grounding himself as they walked in.
They didn’t speak as they found their seats, but they didn’t have to. Reki slid into the desk just to the left of him like always, dropped his bag with a soft thud, already halfway through rolling up his sleeves again. Langa’s eyes flicked over- Reki’s hoodie today was oversized, his school blazer over the top, sleeves pushed past his elbows, and his hair was a little messier than usual.
He looked nice. Attractive.
Langa sat down, unzipped his bag and reached for his notebook, carefully opening it with the creak of the spine, and arranged his pencils in the usual order at the top of his desk. He tapped them one by one, then tapped again in reverse. One-two-three, three-two-one.
The teacher’s voice started droning from the front of the room as the bell rung. Something about economic reconstruction. Langa began to take notes, neat and quick, handwriting slanted just slightly to the left- it was always messy and he always wrote faster than he meant to. It was like his hand was moving ahead of the words sometimes- and he had to slow down, reset.
He shifted his weight in the chair. One foot bounced gently under the desk, then switched to the other, back and forth in rhythm. His fingers moved too- first tapping the edge of the desk as he wrote, then fidgeted with his pencil when the teacher stopped talking.
He rubbed his tongue lightly along the backs of his teeth. Smooth. Familiar. He did it without thinking, sometimes for minutes at a time. It helped when his brain felt like it was buzzing from too much sound or light or information. He didn’t realize his mouth had opened slightly until he caught a glance from the girl two seats over. Her expression flickered. Just briefly.
He looked down again, not embarrassed exactly, but… aware. He shifted his jaw, closed his mouth, and tapped his pencil once against the paper to reset himself.
He didn’t stop stimming, though. He never did for long.
Beside him, Reki was scribbling something that definitely wasn’t notes. Langa could hear the scratch of pen against paper, quick and light and irregular. Reki’s head was tilted, his whole posture relaxed- leaned back slightly in his chair, lip caught between his teeth like he was concentrating deeply… on absolutely nothing important.
Langa didn’t mind. He liked how Reki worked, even if it wasn’t how he did.
He paused, eyes drifting to the edge of his own page. Without thinking too hard about it, he wrote Reki’s name softly in the bottom corner. Hiragana. The loops of it felt nice to draw. Then, beneath it, a small penguin- a round one with dot eyes and tiny flippers.
He smiled a little at the shape of it. Reki would probably snort if he saw it.
As if summoned by the thought, Reki did glance over. There was a second of quiet, then a stifled laugh- the kind where he was obviously trying to be subtle but completely failing. Langa didn’t look at him, just let the corners of his mouth pull upward slightly.
“Didn’t know I had a penguin fan club,” Reki murmured low.
Still looking down, Langa answered just as quietly. “It’s a very exclusive club.”
Reki ducked his head, smiling, and Langa could feel the warmth of it in the space between them.
The lesson carried on, but the words started fading into background noise again. Langa kept writing anyway, even if he wasn’t really processing it. His pencil traced bullet points mechanically while his foot tapped and the lights kept buzzing.
Outside the window, clouds shifted. A breeze moved a tree branch in slow arcs.
His hand drifted back toward his pencil case, opened it, and ran his fingers along the zipper edge, rough and repetitive. Reki doodled something else and snuck another glance at him- then looked quickly back to his page and began doodling.
Langa didn’t need to know what it was to guess. He just hoped it was a penguin.
-
Five minutes between classes.
It wasn’t much- just long enough for the classroom to empty slightly, for conversations to spill into the hallway and lean across desks. The usual hum of noise filtered in from the half-open door. Backpacks rustled. Chairs scraped. Pens clicked too many times.
Langa stayed in his seat. He always did.
The teacher hadn’t arrived yet for English- his best subject (of course), but he didn’t feel like using the time for anything useful. His pencil tapped lightly against his desk for the millionth time, a steady rhythm. His foot bounced under the desk.
One bulb near the corner of the room had a subtle flicker every few minutes. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to irritate him.
Reki had started talking to the group in front of them. Of course.
“Bet he comes in with the same tie he’s worn since like… the Edo period,” Reki said, slouching halfway over his chair as he leaned forward. “You think he owns more than one? Or is he just recycling history like a true educator?”
Someone snorted. Someone else said, “You’re gonna get us in trouble, man.”
Langa didn’t lean in to join them. He rarely did. But he listened.
Reki's voice always rose a little when he got attention, like he was riding a wave and didn’t want to fall off. He spoke fast. Made ridiculous jokes. Called the new English teacher “Mr. Dust” and acted out an old man shuffle until he nearly tripped over his own bag. Langa watched from the corner of his eye, smiling faintly.
He didn’t need to join in to feel part of it. Not when it was Reki.
He understood Reki. Understood how he looped his thoughts in circles when he was nervous, how his hands moved when he was lying, how his eyes did that sharp little flick when something actually mattered. Langa had memorized the tones of his voice. The difference between a real laugh and a performance. It had taken months, maybe years, but it was worth it. Understanding people was usually exhausting.
But Reki wasn’t exhausting. He was just Reki.
That was the only person Langa ever really tried to figure out.
Langa reached into the pocket of his blazer, fingers brushing the familiar packet, and without looking, he held out the gum.
A beat later, he felt Reki take it- quick and familiar, like clockwork. No words exchanged. They’d done it a hundred times, maybe more.
Reki slumped back into his seat with a satisfied sigh, unwrapping the gum and muttering, “Lifesaver.”
Langa didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
His tongue pressed lightly against his front teeth. Smooth. He liked the shape of them, the uniformity. He ran his tongue back and forth slowly, then paused, realizing his mouth had drifted open again.
He closed it automatically, jaw tightening. The girl at the next desk had looked over. Again.
It happened sometimes- especially when he was tired or zoned out. He never noticed until someone stared. Then he’d feel heat creep up his neck. It didn’t hurt, but it left a weird pit in his stomach. Like he’d broken a rule without knowing what it was.
Reki had never said anything about it. Not once.
Langa liked that about him.
Most people at school kind of… knew. About the autism. No one had ever said it out loud, but they’d pieced it together. Enough years of “he’s just like that” and “he’s not trying to be rude” made it obvious. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, it meant he didn’t have to explain himself constantly. On the other… it still felt like being seen through a window instead of talked to.
But Reki never looked at him like that.
“Hey,” Reki said suddenly, leaning closer, chin propped on one hand. “You think Mr. Dust will give us homework?”
Langa blinked. “Yes.”
Reki groaned loudly and dropped his head to the desk.
Langa smiled again.
-
It had been their spot since first year- long before things had changed, and long after everything else had. Langa wasn’t sure who claimed it first. Maybe Reki had dragged him up there on a whim and Langa had just… followed. He tended to do that.
The sun was high, shining through the windows as they climbed the stairs. When they pushed through the door and stepped outside, the city greeted them: buzzing, distant, alive.
Reki exhaled dramatically like they’d just climbed a mountain. “Ah, freedom. Sweet, temporary freedom.”
Langa didn’t comment. Just followed a few steps behind and dropped his bag near the usual spot by the chain-link fence. The wind tugged gently at their hair as they sat, side by side, lunch boxes on their laps, feet outstretched. The hum of traffic far below blended with the occasional burst of laughter or shout from another building. It was noisy, but in a way that didn’t overwhelm. The rooftop filtered it all out.
Reki immediately opened his box and started eating like he hadn’t eaten in years. Which meant talking with his mouth full.
“So, I was thinking,” he said, bits of rice barely staying in his mouth, “if I ever get rich from skating- which I won’t- but if I do, I’m hiring someone to carry me around so I never have to walk again.”
Langa blinked slowly. “That sounds inefficient.”
“Yeah, but like, think about it. You’d be like- ‘hey where’s Reki?’ and someone would just carry me into the room because I was summoned.”
“That’s… a weird image.”
Reki thought about it for a second, then grinned. “… That’s why I’m the idea guy and not the detail guy.”
He laughed at his own joke, nearly choking on his food. Langa handed him his water wordlessly.
“Thanks,” Reki wheezed, then popped open the bottle. “You’re so good at saving me. I’d be lost easily without you.”
“Easily.”
Reki pointed at him. “Hey. I’m ignoring that.”
Langa opened his own lunch and quietly picked up a fry covered in gravy and began eating.
Reki leaned over to get a look and made a noise like betrayal. “Dude. Again with the poutine?”
“It’s good.”
“You pack it every time. I swear it’s your whole personality.”
“You’re the one who eats those packets of fake spicy chips like it’s a food group.”
Reki gasped like he’d been stabbed. “Take that back.”
Langa didn’t even blink. “You brought two bags today.”
“That’s a tactical choice,” Reki said seriously, “because I knew I’d want one now and one later.”
Langa lifted his arm and wiped a bit of rice from Reki’s mouth. Reki didn’t even stop talking- just kept going about how the school’s vending machine was now somehow rigged- until he felt Langas fingers against his face.
He blinked. “Did I- oh. Right.”
“You’re a messy eater.”
“Oops.”
Langa gave a small shrug, then went back to his food.
After a while, they stopped talking. The sun stretched shadows across the rooftop. A bird flew by. Langa tracked it absently, watching the way it dipped and cut through the air. Reki leaned his head back, eating the last of his lunch, eyes squinting up at the blue.
The chain-link rattled slightly in the wind.
Reki spoke first.
“You think we’ll still be doing this when we’re, like, forty?”
Langa turned to look at him.
Reki wasn’t really asking in the way most people asked questions. It was one of those thoughts he said out loud without thinking, like tossing something into the ocean just to see where it’d go.
“Skating, I mean,” he added. “Hanging out. Lunches. Life stuff.”
Langa considered it. “Of course, I don’t see why not.”
Reki smiled, small and real. “Skating’s gonna be the death of me someday.”
Langa laughed, soft and unthinking. But then-
Reki kept going.
“Like, the way I fell last week? Someday I’m gonna mess up one of those dumb tricks and just boom, lights out. That’s how it ends. That or by the spicy chips.”
Langa’s laugh caught in his throat.
His hands tightened slightly.
He didn’t answer right away.
The silence stretched long enough for Reki to glance over.
“Not funny,” Langa said quietly.
Reki’s grin faded, confusion flickering into guilt.
“Oh- sorry. I was just messing around. I didn’t mean-” He waved a hand like he could erase the words.
Langa nodded once. His jaw was tight. He didn’t look at Reki when he said, “I don’t like jokes like that.”
“I know.” Reki said, softer now. “Sorry.”
They didn’t talk for a moment.
Langa watched the shadow of the fence stretch across the rooftop. Wind tugged again at the hem of his uniform. The moment passed.
Reki leaned his head against Langa’s shoulder, just briefly. A silent apology.
Langa didn’t move away.
Eventually, Reki piped up again.
“Okay, wait, but imagine: forty-year-old us still skating around the neighborhood. Everyone else has cars but we’ve got busted boards and bruised knees.”
“Speak for yourself,” Langa muttered.
“I will. My future knees are gonna hate me.”
“They already do.”
Reki let out a delighted snort. “Was that a joke? From you?”
Langa allowed himself a slight smile. “Maybe.”
“Historic day,” Reki said, “put it in the calendar.”
Langa didn’t need to. He’d remember.
They finished their lunch slowly, swapping snacks and teasing each other until the bell rang again. As they stood, Langa glanced once more over the edge, taking in the view like he always did. Birds, rooftops, clouds stretched thin and bright.
Reki tossed his bag over one shoulder. “Come on, slowpoke. Gotta survive afternoon classes.”
Langa followed.
-
Afternoon always settled different.
The rooftop sunlight lingered on their skin long after they'd gone back inside. Reki had hummed something as they descended the stairs, the last few notes of a song he probably made up. Now he was leaning back in his chair, tapping a mechanical pencil against his cheek and mouthing words Langa couldn’t quite catch.
The teacher at the front was droning about Mathematics, equations scribbled across the board. Langa’s notes were neat, methodical, and he tried his best to keep up with the lesson, Math was never a strong suit but he wasn’t bad at it per se. He kept catching himself drifting- thinking about the way the wind had caught Reki’s hair earlier. How warm his shoulder had felt when they sat against the fence.
Something light touched his elbow.
A folded note.
Langa didn’t look. Just opened it under his desk.
“After school?”
Next to it, a tiny, lopsided drawing of a skateboard with flames. It was awful. Reki had drawn a stick figure doing a kickflip, which looked more like it was falling off.
Langa smiled.
He wrote back:
“Always.”
And passed it over without meeting Reki’s eyes.
He could feel the grin Reki was holding in, even from a seat away.
The rest of the day passed in small pieces- ink smudges on fingers, the drag of chair legs on the tile, the buzz of too-bright lights overhead. Langa chewed the edge of his pen cap, bounced his knee under the desk. He rubbed his tongue along his back teeth yet again.
After the final bell rang, the hallway spilled open with noise- bags zipped, shoes thudded against tile, someone called goodbye down the stairs. Reki waited at the door, shoulder bumping Langa’s as they slipped out together, no words needed.
They didn’t say much on the walk to the back of the school, either. They just went. Past the gym, around the maintenance shed, until they hit the little corner behind the vending machines.
It wasn’t special, not exactly. Just a quiet patch of gravel where the concrete dipped a little and a metal fence kept the wind from blowing too hard. But it was theirs.
It had become theirs in the way routines always do. Slowly, and then all at once.
Reki plopped down first, back against the warm brick wall. He was smiling like he already knew what was going to happen.
Langa crouched beside him. Then leaned in.
The kiss was soft at first. Familiar. The kind where neither of them had to move much- they just leaned in and let it happen. Behind the vending machines, with the faint hum of electricity and the brick wall at their backs, the distance between them vanished entirely.
Reki’s hand slipped up to Langa’s collar, fingers curling into the fabric like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. His thumb grazed Langa’s neck, light and slow, and Langa leaned in deeper, eyes fluttering shut.
He kissed him again. Slower this time. Then again.
It built gradually- soft lips and steady breath, the quiet push-pull of something they'd done before but still hadn’t fully gotten used to. Not really. Not with how new it still felt every time.
Reki shifted, tilting his head, and Langa followed without thinking. His hand came up to cradle the side of Reki’s face, thumb brushing the curve of his cheek. Reki hummed against his mouth- half amusement, half surprise- and kissed him harder.
When they finally parted, Langa felt his heart doing that quiet flutter it always did. Like he’d never fully gotten used to the fact that this was real.
Reki smiled, face fully flushed red, and reached into his bag, pulling out a canned coffee. He didn’t even ask. Just handed it over with one hand while wiping his face with the other.
Langa accepted it silently, popped the tab, and took a sip. It was the exact brand he liked. No sugar, just bitter and cold.
“You always know what I want,” Langa murmured, licking his lips at the lingering taste.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got like two talents. Skateboarding and coffee-based boyfriend intuition.”
Langa huffed a laugh, then gently reached out and tugged Reki’s hand toward him.
He laced their fingers.
They sat like that, palms pressed and fingers tangled, taking sips of coffee, the hum of vending machines buzzing low behind them. The smell of asphalt and old metal mixed with something softer- Reki’s shampoo, probably. Langa couldn’t name it, but he’d know it anywhere.
Langa looked straight ahead, at the golden edge of the afternoon sky.
“This part of school is my favourite,” he said.
Reki made a noise. “The vending machines?”
“No,” Langa replied, quiet but firm. “This part. You.”
Reki turned toward him with his mouth already open to make fun- but then he paused. And Langa watched in real time as his smirk softened into something warmer.
“I know I said it earlier but you’re such a sap,” Reki said, voice teasing.
Langa just gave the tiniest shrug. He didn’t care if it sounded sappy. He meant it.
Reki squeezed his hand tighter.
-
Langa got home just after seven, board under his arm and the smell of outside still clinging faintly to his sleeves. The door creaked open and he stepped out of his shoes, placing them precisely next to each other by the mat.
“Welcome home,” his mother called from the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost done.”
He nodded, not that she saw it. He walked into the kitchen and dropped his backpack quietly near the table, slipping into one of the chairs, hands folding in his lap. The lights overhead were bright- too bright- and the corner bulb buzzed faintly, a high-pitched whine only he seemed to hear.
“The ER was insane today,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel as steam drifted from the stove. “We had a guy come in with a fish hook through his hand. Whole thing caught on his knuckle. Said it was his first time fishing.”
Langa blinked once. “Was it bad?”
“He was fine. More embarrassed than hurt.” She chuckled to herself and picked up two bowls that were already sitting on the counter. “How was school?”
“Fine.”
She set the bowls on the table- hot, fragrant, steaming- and then turned back for chopsticks. The TV murmured low in the background from the living room, some reporter going on about a convenience store robbery. There was footage of a blurred-out man climbing over a checkout counter, the audio clipping awkwardly between static and words.
“What about Reki?” she asked, taking a seat across from him.
Langa smiled faintly. “He’s fine. Scribbled a lot during classes.”
His mom smiled as she picked up her chopsticks. “That sounds like him.”
The air conditioner clicked on, warm air suddenly rushing from the vent and tickling at Langa’s skin like a thousand invisible threads. He tried to ignore it. His sleeves clung too much to his arms. The collar of his blazer scratched a little when he moved. The smell of the food- soy sauce, fish, a little garlic- was strong in his nose, almost too strong, but he didn’t want to mention it. She’d cooked. She was proud of it and he was thankful.
He reached for his bowl. The ceramic was warm beneath his fingers, grounding.
“Learn anything today?” she asked between bites.
“No,” he said, and then, after a pause: “Reki said something about skating at forty.”
“Oh yeah? What did you say to that?”
“I said we wouldn’t stop.”
She gave a quiet, fond hum, and the corner of her mouth tugged upward. The rangehood above the stove was still going, a low mechanical hum that settled beneath everything like an itch in his ears. He’d tuned it out until now, but it was starting to layer with the TV and the aircon, stacking sounds like bricks on bricks.
“Mom,” he said, glancing up from his bowl. “Can you turn that thing off?”
She blinked, chopsticks paused mid-air. “What thing?”
He pointed toward the kitchen behind her. “That thing.”
“... The rangehood?”
Langa just nodded aimlessly.
“Oh- sure.” She stood, wiped her hands again on her pants, and walked over to flip the switch.
The sound cut out immediately.
It helped. A little.
The TV, though, was clearer now. The volume hadn’t changed, but without the drone of the fan to mask it, the announcer’s voice felt too sharp. Langa adjusted in his seat, grounding his foot against the wooden floor.
“This okay?” his mom asked as she sat again.
He nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
They ate for a few more minutes in mostly silence, the clink of chopsticks against bowls filling the space. The meal was good, he noticed- it always was when she had time to cook from scratch. He focused on the warmth of the rice, the texture of the vegetables, and tried to let that steady him.
“You gonna see Reki again tomorrow in class?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“What about after school?”
“Probably.”
She gave another quiet smile and didn’t press more. Langa liked that about her- how she never asked too many questions at once. How she seemed to know when he was at his limit, even if he never said anything out loud.
The TV cut to a new story: something about upcoming weather patterns. Rain possibly. Humidity. He could already feel it in the air.
“Did you wear your earphones on the way home?” she asked gently, halfway through her bowl.
He shook his head. “Forgot them.”
She gave a small, sympathetic sound, not quite a sigh. “Thought so. You’re doing the shoulder thing again.”
Langa hadn’t noticed until then- his right shoulder was shifting back and forth, an unconscious rhythm as if he was trying to find a more comfortable position. Then, catching himself, he forced himself to stop. His mom didn’t comment or press- she never did. She simply returned to her food, treating his movement like just another quiet part of their conversation.
Dinner passed in silence. When they finished, Langa helped clear the bowls, stacking them neatly in the sink. The leftover warmth from the stove still radiated through the tiles beneath his socked feet.
-
Later that night, after the dishes were done and the TV finally clicked off, Langa lay on his stomach in bed, face half-pressed into the edge of his pillow. His lavalamp was the only light in the room still on, casting soft, red light across his face. His phone was charging beside him, screen lighting up every few minutes.
At 9:37 PM, a picture came through.
It was Reki- lying face-down on his bedroom floor, maths textbook open, making a dramatic frown with one hand holding the camera at a skewed angle. His desk chair was slightly in the background, and highlighters were scattered like confetti across the carpet. The message along with it read:
Reki: i’m dying. this is it. this is how i go. buried under trigonometry.
Langa looked at the photo for a long moment before typing back.
Langa: you look like roadkill
The reply came fast- a line of crying emojis, then:
Reki: bro i AM roadkill
Reki: i am now a ghost, the maths killed me. tell my family i loved them.
Reki: except the textbook. it gets nothing.
That joke was different than the one Reki made earlier at lunch. Langa smiled a little, small and quiet, thumbs pausing as he tried to think of what to say.
Langa: your ghost is being dramatic
Reki: my ghost is procrastinating
Reki: also haunting your dms oooooooo
Reki: tragic skateboard boy pls come study with me
Langa: tragic skateboard boy is asleep
Reki: liar
Reki: you’re texting me right now
Reki: you’re literally awake
Another photo arrived. Reki again- this time sitting at his desk, hand in his hair, tongue sticking out slightly. A blurry notebook full of scribbles and half-doodles sat open next to him. In the corner of the frame, his skateboard was propped against the wall.
Langa saved the photo before he even realized he was doing it.
The messages started to slow. Then picked up again. A meme. Then another one. Then a joke Langa didn’t totally get but laughed at anyway because it was Reki and that was enough.
Then, a quieter message:
Reki: today was good
Langa stared at it. He read it a few times, the words sinking in like warm water.
Langa: yeah
Langa: it was
The typing bubble popped up. Then disappeared.
Popped up again.
Gone.
Langa watched the screen. Waited.
Finally, a voice message came through.
He didn’t open it right away. He reached for his earbuds first, plugging them in with slow, careful fingers, then pulled the blanket up to his chin and pressed play.
Reki’s voice came through soft and close, almost like he was whispering directly into Langa’s ear.
“I love you, Langa.”
That was it.
Just that.
Langa’s breath caught in his chest. The audio bar flickered once, then disappeared.
He pressed play again.
“I love you, Langa.”
Again.
And again.
The fourth time, he curled slightly tighter into himself, phone pressed against his chest like he could feel the warmth of the words through the screen.
His thumbs hovered.
Then he typed:
Langa: i listened to it four times
Langa: might do five
The reply was instant:
Reki: ok romcom boy calm down
Then:
Reki: i’m literally smiling so hard rn
Then:
Reki: i meant it
Reki: i mean it
Reki: I always mean it
Langa felt something insanely warm inside him.
He stared at his phone for a few seconds longer, then typed:
Langa: i love you too
Langa: i meant it
Langa: i mean it
Langa: I always mean it
There wasn’t a reply right away.
Then the message got a heart reaction.
A few minutes passed. Then another meme- blurry, weirdly cropped, a cat with its paws over its face and the caption:
Reki: me failing math but winning in love
Langa saved that one too.
After a while, the messages faded out into quiet. Reki sent one last message-
Reki: okay i gotta actually study now
Reki: or pretend to
Reki: g’night tragic skateboard boy <3
Langa: goodnight
Langa: study a little at least
Reki: no promises
Langa tucked the phone beneath his pillow, the earbuds still in. The message replayed one last time in his head- Reki’s voice, soft and certain.
“I love you, Langa.”