Langa managed to avoid the conversation with his mother until Friday, the night before he and Reki were supposed to leave. But then he made the mistake of coming out of his room for a snack after dinner, and she cornered him.
"Langa," she said, crowding him against the cabinets, tugging nervously on her hair. "You know you can tell me about Reki, right? I think he's such a lovely boy. I'm sure he's a perfectly wonderful boyfriend, and—"
"He's not my boyfriend," Langa said hastily, closing the pantry door. He could already feel a traitorous blush rising on his neck, and god, she was never going to believe him when he looked so guilty, was she? "He's just...he's just a friend."
"Baby," she said, and his stomach twisted a little at the way her eyebrows creased together—she looked so worried, and sort of hurt. She must think he was trying to hide this from her, that he didn't want to open up to her, even though they only had each other left, just the two of them in this big world. Langa squeezed his hands to his sides.
"Reki..." How was he supposed to explain? The words felt so tight in his throat, but he managed to say, "He doesn't feel the same about me. I would tell you if we..."
And, god, he couldn't even finish the sentence, there was so much in that if, so much he couldn't say aloud, it was so huge and overwhelming and impossible. If Reki held his hand for a beat longer than he was supposed to, if Reki finally looked at him with those quiet adoring eyes the way he sometimes looked at the sunset, if Reki pressed his mouth to Langa's palm after bandaging the scrapes there, if Reki whispered soft loving words against Langa's mouth when they kissed, all the words Langa wanted so badly to say.
"If we were together," he finally said, lamely.
His mom was still frowning. She lifted her hand like she was going to touch him, but then she hesitated, twisting her hands together instead. Langa's stomach hurt. Ever since his dad died, his mom was so nervous and jumpy when she tried to talk to him or hug him, as if she thought Langa would push her away. Maybe she also had words bottled up, just like him, all this affection she wasn't sure how to show.
"Baby," she said, and then shook her head a little. "Then what's all this...this date stuff? I heard Reki calling it a date yesterday before you two came inside."
Langa flushed again. "He was just messing around," he said, even though he knew it sounded like a lie. "I mean—he was just joking."
She stared at him. Langa's cheeks itched, and he knew she didn't believe him, but he didn't know what else to say, so he blurted out,
"Can I have a snack?"
She paused, and then laughed a little, and this time when she lifted her hand, Langa leaned into the touch. He still felt stiff and awkward, his face warm with embarrassment, but when she squeezed his arm, some of the tension in his body drained away. Maybe, he thought, they would never really be alone, as long as they had each other.
"Okay, baby," his mom said. "Come here."
Langa climbed into a chair by the counter while she made him grilled cheese on the stove, and dutifully he answered all her questions about the trip: yes, they had already made the hotel reservation, yes, they knew how to make their train connections, and yes, Reki had shared his phone's location with his mom.
"And you're not planning on—on being intimate?"
Langa choked on his own tongue. "Don't say it like that!"
His mom flipped over the sandwich. "Well, what do you want me to say?"
Langa was going to die. Just the feeling of Reki's mouth on his neck had made him feel like his skin was going to burn off—Langa would never survive being intimate with him. "We're not going to do—that," he managed, and luckily his mom let the subject drop, although Langa's palms still itched. He had a feeling that she was going to text him multiple safe-sex articles as soon as he went to his room.
