Langa was allowed to hold Reki's hand all the way down to the water. Reki's fingers were sort of sticky from the ice cream sandwiches he had bought them before they left the pier, and his palm was warm and sweaty, the worn band-aid peeling up at the corner, but Langa held tightly anyway. Everything in his life would be bearable, he thought, if only he could Reki's hand always.
"Man," said Reki, kicking up sand, "It's so much quieter down here. I didn't realize how loud it was with everybody around." He squeezed Langa's hand, looking sideways at him. "Are you sure it wasn't too loud?"
"It was a little too loud," said Langa honestly, squeezing back. His head ached a little, but it was a good ache, like the sunburn on his shoulders, surrounded by the silence of the sand dunes, the soft cawing of birds and the lapping of water. "It's okay now. Really."
"You should've told me," Reki said, but he didn't sound upset, not really. He swung their hands in between them, kicking off his sandals and then scrambling to pick them up, holding them in his free hand. "I like the way the sand feels," he explained, when Langa raised his eyebrows. "You should try it!"
Langa wasn't sure, but Reki's grin was so convincing, the way his dimples were a little lopsided, deeper in his right cheek than in his left, his eyebrows raised behind his hair. So carefully Langa slid out of his sandals, picking them up gingerly, wiggling his toes in the sand.
"It's warm," he said, a bit dumbfounded.
Reki laughed, squeezing his hand with sticky fingers. "Yeah, Einstein," he said. "It's summer."
Ah, Langa thought. Summer. He wiggled his toes again, watching the way the sand spilled over the edges, into little piles. There was something intimate about it, being barefoot together, Reki's sunburnt toes digging into the sand alongside Langa's own.
"Okinawa always feels like summer to me," Langa explained, and Reki made a humming sound, swinging their hands again.
"I guess that's true," he said. "Well — I wouldn't know. I've never even left the country. Man! My life is really boring now that I think about it." He rocked on his feet a little, the sand sliding off his toes. "How many countries have you been to? A bunch, probably, right?"
Langa shook his head. "We went to the United States once," he said. "But that's it."
"Ah," said Reki. "Still! Cooler than me." He tugged on Langa's hand, and Langa shook the sand quickly off his feet and began following him again, over another sand dune and another, until they could see the edge of the water dark against the beach. Langa squeezed Reki's hand, the overwhelming feeling beginning to swell in his chest again—he was going to see the ocean. The actual waves and the seaweed and the shells. Langa had only ever seen the ocean from an airplane seat, far, far away from the water.
"I like Okinawa," Langa said, and Reki laughed again.
"Yeah, but I bet it's not as cool as Canada," he said, and then grinned at Langa, and the overwhelming feeling swelled against Langa's ribs, because, god. The sun had gone down, but even in the dusk, Reki was stunning, the shadows of his collarbones deep and perfect, the dip of his neck dark against the sky, his cheeky smile bright and happy. "Hey, you should bring me to Canada sometime! That can be our next trip."
Langa swallowed, at the way Reki bumped their shoulders together, his sunwarm skin brushing against Langa's. He wanted to go on another trip with Langa. He wanted them to go on trips together, and Langa clung to that thought even as he said, quietly, "Maybe in—in another year or so? I don't know if I'm...if I'm ready to go back yet."
Reki's smile faded a little, his face softening into something else, something that made Langa's chest ache. "Ah," he said, and squeezed Langa's hand. "Okay! Whenever you want. We can go somewhere closer to home for our next trip, then."
