over the horizon [sk8 the infinity]

hasegawa langa - penguin plasters

- reader is gender neutral

You finish sticking the last band-aid on Langa's finger and give it a little blow, something you used to do when you were children. You find it funny seeing him get flustered despite being used to this for years.

"Finished," you say and stand up.

As you turn around to retrieve your bags from the abandoned slide, Langa inspects your work. He remembers how awful you were with bandaids, not being able to use them on yourself let alone him. They were always wonky and really off centre, but because Langa used to keep up a consistent streak of bruises back in Canada, you learnt how to use bandaids properly and now you're a self-claimed professional.

The only thing Langa didn't (and still doesn't) like about your bandaid abilities is your taste in the theme. Right now, it looks like he's got penguin stickers attached to his hands. He's talked to you about how awful your medical fashion sense is — if that even exists, Langa's sure it does — but you refused to change. You never gave him a reason, but he suspects that it's because penguins live in the Antarctic and it reminds you of snowboarding.

Langa doesn't notice your return and so he flinches when you dump the bags next to him.

"Good?"

The boy nods and attempts to wiggle his fingers, testing the strength of the immaculate plasters.

You squawk and grab his hands. "No! Idiot, don't do that. It'll come undone."

Langa stops and watches you gently smooth your fingers over the creases. It tickles slightly, but he makes sure not to move.

"Don't wag your hands around too much, I don't want to waste bandaids."

"Okay."

You sling your bag over your shoulder. "Come on, I'm staying over yours. You're home alone, right?"

Langa pushes himself up onto his feet and takes his bag from you. "Just today, but you don't have to."

"I insist. Besides, the only thing you can decently make is an omelette."

"What's wrong with an omelette?"

"A growing boy like you needs more than an omelette."

You begin making your way back to Langa's house and he jogs to catch up with your fast walking. It's been weeks since you last slept over and honestly, Langa misses it. He misses how you babbled on about your newest obsession, tried on his clothes and cooked him food. It was so fun when you used to spend your entire week together, but now that you're both older, there's not enough time for that.

"Hey," you call out. "What are you so quiet for?"

"Hm?"

You wave your hand around in front of his face. "Earth to Hasegawa Langa?"

Langa ignores your question, but instead, reaches out for your hand. Your face starts going through a fit of a blushing pink mess as he entwines his fingers with yours.

"Wh— Langa?!"

He looks at you with a casual expression as if asking if there's something wrong. There's absolutely nothing wrong with Langa holding your hand, you think. It's just surprising because PDA isn't Langa's type of beat.

"Langa, you're— you're holding—"

"Your hand? Yeah."

You awkwardly look away, silently berating yourself for acting so weirdly. It's not like you've never held hands with him before, it's the fact that it was Langa who initiated it first.