The world had returned, of course, when Reki pulled away; but it was a beautiful world, wasn't it? Reki was laughing against his sleep-heavy chest, kissing the corner of Langa's mouth again, and Langa had never woken up smiling as much as today.
"I love you," he said, and Reki laughed again, that breathless catch in his throat, and Langa squirmed closer to him under the blankets, his heart full with the way Reki still laughed almost every time Langa said I love you, always embarrassed by the words. Reki grinned at him, his cheeks flushed, and said,
"I love you too." He leaned in, kissing Langa's chin, then his jaw. "Mm. It's a big day, huh? You ready for it?"
Langa's chest thumped, once, but he nodded. "You're the one who's not ready," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt, and it must have worked, because Reki laughed again, trailing his fingers up Langa's arm and smoothing his thumb over Langa's cheek, tucking his hair carefully behind his ears. He grinned up at Langa, his tongue caught between his teeth, and Langa remembered to breathe, he remembered to breathe out and then carefully in again, and his limbs relaxed, marginally, against the mattress again.
The truth was that he was nervous, just a little. He had spent weeks trying to plan the perfect date for Reki, the way Reki had planned the perfect date for him, the carnival and the ocean and the hotel room, all of the beautiful memories captured in the photobooth pictures. Langa had found an onsen and everything, the most gorgeous place, but only two days ago the place had called him to apologize, saying that the reservation had to be cancelled due to bad weather.
Langa was a bit ashamed of how well he had taken the news—which was to say, not well at all. He had spent at least an hour lying in bed, the blankets dragged over his head, anguishing, before his mother had come in to bring him to therapy, where Langa had sat with his arms hugging himself, refusing to talk about it. "I wanted everything to be perfect," he had finally gotten out, because he had been so anxious about making everything perfect, so wonderful for Reki, who deserved the best date in the whole world.
It had taken a lot of coaxing to talk him down, but Langa had left the office with a couple fewer knots in his chest, and that night Reki had invited him over to play video games and eat cheesy chips, and the knots had relaxed further, at the way Reki laughed and rubbed his orange fingers all over Langa's button-down, staining it. Langa's palms had still been sweaty and a little trembly when he tackled Reki, tickling him in revenge, and Reki had laughed until he accidentally kneed Langa between the legs, and they had both toppled off the couch, yelping. The night had been imperfect and silly and sort of wonderful, and Reki had kissed him for a long time in his bed, his arm slung over Langa's body, fingers still twitching with his excess energy even as Langa drifted off to sleep.
So Langa knew this day would be good, because he was spending it with Reki, bad weather or no weather. The storms would come, and he would have to learn to live with them anyway, no matter how unpredictable they were.
Reki ruffled his hair and kissed him again, before yawning and pushing himself up into a sitting position, stretching. His t-shirt rode up over his stomach, and he scratched his side, grinning lazily down at Langa. "We're still wearing the matching shirts, right?"
Langa swallowed, tearing his eyes away from the crease of Reki's stomach, the place he had kissed now, so many times, always with something hot and tight burning in his chest. "Yes," he said, and Reki gave him a cheeky smile and finger guns, cocking them in the way that always made Langa laugh when he was feeling uncertain, and Langa grinned, rubbing his elbow as he sat up, too.
"It's good," said Reki, "'cause you always look better in the clothes I pick out for you. No offense!" He poked Langa's nose and then scrambled off the bed, hurrying for the closet, and Langa shoved his feet into his slippers and stood up. He hadn't told Reki what they were doing for their date, partly because he still had no idea, himself, but he tried to tell himself it would be okay as he reached for the bedside table, groping for his glasses. The glasses were uncomfortable, and they made him squint, but the doctor said he needed them; apparently only being able to see "big shapes" wasn't considered good vision. When he got anxious he still had trouble seeing clearly, but the glasses did help with the blurriness, and for that, at least, Langa was grateful.
chapter 19: epilogue
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