Langa was nervous about going back to school. He kept picturing those girls coming to stand by Reki's desk, laughing at his drawings, and it made his hands all sweaty while he waited outside of Reki's house, wobbling back and forth on his skateboard. The day was warm, and when Reki came bounding out of his front door, he was wearing a tie-dye shirt and an orange headband.
"Langa!" he called, and Langa held out his fist for their knuckle-bump, but Reki crashed right past that, throwing his arms around Langa's body, and Langa nearly toppled off the skateboard. He put his hands on Reki's back, trying to steady himself, trying to shove his heart down from where it had leapt into his throat. Underneath his fingertips, he could feel the bumps of Reki's spine, and when Reki pulled away, Langa couldn't see anything but his red hair and orange headband and big smile.
"Good morning," said Langa, a bit stupidly, and Reki laughed, his hands squeezing Langa's sides before letting go. Langa felt dizzy, maybe from the heat, or maybe from the way Reki's hands had left warm imprints on Langa's torso, which was already starting to sweat.
"I thought of an idea for our date!" Reki said, hopping onto his own board, kicking off so Langa had to scramble to keep up. His heart was still racing as their boards bounced over the cobblestones of the street, Reki's hair waving wildly in the wind, his shirt so colorful that it was impossible to look away.
"What is it?" asked Langa, when he had caught his breath.
"It's a secret!" said Reki, sounding absolutely thrilled at the prospect, and Langa frowned, their boards bumping over a crack in the street.
"That's not fair," he said. "Tell me?"
"Nope!" said Reki, grinning, his arms outstretched, and he looked so happy and free that Langa's heart thumped in his chest. "Well, not yet. I have to wait to make sure we can pull it off. But you're going to love it! Oh boy, I'm excited." He jumped over the curb, and hastily Langa did, too, wobbling a little, holding his arms out for balance. When he got into the zone of skateboarding, he forgot all about needing to balance, but somehow when he and Reki were just riding around like this, Langa kept getting distracted by how bright and colorful Reki was, how loud and excited his voice got. It usually ended in him wiping out on some street corner while Reki laughed his ass off before helping him up.
But today Langa managed to stay upright as they raced through the sidewalks, under the shop signs and the fluttering flags. "Give me a hint," Langa said, as they whipped around a corner, Reki's hand catching briefly on his shoulder.
"Okay," said Reki. "Let me think. Oh, it will be competitive! Well, there's gonna be a competitive part of it. I feel like—a date should have high stakes, you know? And nothing gets your blood pumping like some good ol' competition."
He grinned at Langa, and Langa made a face, because he already knew his blood would be pumping on his date with Reki, god, his date with Reki. The words still felt surreal. Reki had been texting him all night about the date, all the things he wanted to practice (holding hands in public, paying the check for each other, thinking of romantic compliments) and Langa had kept his face buried in his pillow to stop himself from screaming.
If Reki seriously tried to practice paying him a romantic compliment, Langa's blood was going to start pumping right out of his body.
They hopped off the boards at the school gates, Reki's shoulder knocking against his affectionately, and Langa wracked his brain for a date idea that Reki would consider competitive. Maybe they were going bowling, he thought, or maybe Reki was just going to bring him to S and claim it was romantic. That would be okay, even if it wasn't particularly date-like, because Langa would go anywhere with Reki, and he liked going to S. Anywhere they went could be like a date, if only Reki wanted it to be, but of course he didn't, so Langa tried to shove those thoughts down.
Reki bumped into some of his friends on the steps, and as they shoved each other around and joked about the upcoming math test, Langa took out his phone and looked at the list of date ideas he had written down, trying to figure out if any of them were competitive enough. One of them was go snowboarding and try not to get Reki killed, but that didn't seem feasible...unless—
"What're you doing?" Reki asked, throwing his arm over Langa's shoulders, and Langa jumped, nearly dropping the phone. Reki leaned over his arm, and before Langa could fumble to close the window, Reki had taken his phone right out of his hands.
Shit, Langa thought, frantically, because he had put embarrassing stuff on that list, including try to cut each other's hair and see who looks better and search houses for sale and skate past them to decide which ones we would want to buy and eat chocolate in bed without shirts on. Reki's friends were still pushing each other around the stairwell, laughing loudly, and when Reki looked up at Langa, he was grinning, and Langa's heart pounded against his ribs.
But Reki just said, "Were you trying to guess what my idea is? It's not any of these," and he passed the phone back to Langa, elbowing him. "Do you really think I would let you cut my hair? Well, scratch that. You're great at hair, I forgot. But you shouldn't trust me with a pair of scissors for more than two seconds flat."
"I," Langa began, but thankfully Reki got distracted again before he had to think up a believable excuse, and then the bell rang, and Langa followed Reki quietly into class. His fingers itched on the phone, still embarrassed. He needed to get better at paying attention to his surroundings, he thought. Reki could have caught him looking at the folder of photos he had of Reki sleeping, or the shopping cart of presents he wanted to buy Reki for Valentines if he ever got up the courage, or the playlist he had titled songs for when you're thinking about your best friend who you're in love with (reki edition).
Now that he thought about it, he should probably put a password on his phone.
At lunch, Langa got another confession.
It was a horribly awkward affair. The girl was a first-year, and she was clutching an envelope with hearts on the front and bouncing nervously, and she reminded him so much of Reki, with her wild hair and big, pleading eyes. But of course Langa had to say, "Um, no, thank you," and when he did, she started crying, trying to stifle the sounds with her uniform sleeves, and Langa's palms sweat so much that his pockets were damp from rubbing his hands against them.
Finally he escaped. He hoped Reki wouldn't be jealous or upset, the way he sometimes got when watching Langa get confession after confession, especially after Saturday night. But when Langa rounded the corner, he saw Reki sitting on the bottom of the stairs with Yua, and he froze.
Oh no, he thought, his palms starting to sweat again, because what if she was saying something terrible to him? If she hurt him—but then Reki threw his head back and Langa heard him laughing, and when he got closer he could hear Reki saying, "—is a really good idea!" Langa paused a few feet in front of them, unsure if he should interrupt, but Reki caught sight of him and began waving erratically, and Yua scrambled to her feet.
"Langa-kun," she said, sounding a little flustered. "I'll let you guys be alone! See you in class, Reki!"
"Okay!" said Reki. He scrambled up, too, grabbing Langa's arm, his grin so wide that Langa's heart thumped, because, god. They were standing so close and Reki looked so happy to see him and Langa was not going to be able to handle this level of affection much longer. His heart was too fragile, and his brain was already deciding that this was exactly the way Reki would greet him if they really were dating.
"Was she being rude to you?" was the first thing that came out of Langa's mouth, and he winced at himself, because why had he thought that would be a good thing to say? Reki didn't want to think about the girls' rudeness. Langa shouldn't remind him.
But Reki just shook his head, hair flopping around, and said, "She was giving me advice for our date!"
Langa's brain paused. "What?"
"She was giving me—"
"You told her about the date?"
"Well, yeah," said Reki. "Don't worry, I didn't say it was with you! She just asked me about if I was dating anybody, and I told her not really but that I was planning this really exciting date. And she seemed interested, so I told her about it, and she had lots of great ideas!"
Langa stared at him, his mind spinning. Reki tugged him toward the stairs, chattering at a mile a minute about the preparation they needed to do for the date, but Langa couldn't focus on anything he was saying. If this date was just practice for the dates Reki would go on with girls, why was he telling the girls about it? At this rate everybody was going to think Reki was taken. And wasn't Langa supposed to be the one giving Reki dating advice? Wasn't that the whole point of the practicing thing?
Langa stumbled up the last couple of steps onto the roof, and Reki plopped down in their usual spot, dumping his food out onto his skateboard like it was a table. "So what do you think?" he asked, and Langa shook his head, trying to clear his mind.
"What?"
"Were you not listening to me?"
"Um." Langa didn't want to admit that his mind had been wandering, but he was a terrible liar. "Can you repeat it?"
Reki grinned at him, pressing their shoulders together as Langa sat down, the line of his body warm against Langa's sleeve. "Of course, man," he said. "I was just saying, we should go to the mall this week, so we can buy new clothes for the date. Yua was saying, like, you wanna look your best on the first date, and it would be good to figure out what stuff looks good on us so we can be prepared in the future!"
Langa watched his feet balance against the edge of the skateboard, his fries wobbling precariously. "Oh," was all he could think to say, trying not to think about all the people Reki wanted to look good for—people he would eventually bring on real first dates. "I've never been to the mall. Is it close?"
"We'll have to take the train," said Reki. "But it's not too far! And there's tons of cool stuff. I love buying stuff, but my mom says it's not a good idea to go shopping very often, except this time it'll be okay because it's a special occasion, you know? We have to find out what colors look good on us and stuff. Yua said that's super important."
Langa hesitated. He wanted to say that he thought Reki looked good in every color, but then he thought about getting to walk around a mall with Reki and watch him point to every single thing that Langa would never have noticed on his own. He nodded. "Okay," he said. "I don't know anything about clothes, but I'll go with you."
"I'll help you!" said Reki. "I'm great at buying clothes. You can find the craziest stuff and then just wear it, it's awesome."
Langa watched him dig into his lunch. Reki always wore all the brightest colors together, sunset orange and electric blue and neon pink, and it always looked good to Langa, the way he could find Reki in a crowd more quickly than anyone else. With Reki, it didn't matter if Langa was bad at remembering people's faces, because everything else about Reki was memorable.
Reki pushed the skateboard toward him, making a sound through his food like he was offering Langa the fries, and Langa was careful only to take a few, and not all of them. As they ate, Reki talked about all the different stores they could visit, and Langa thought about Reki trying on clothes for him, soft sweatshirts and patterned button-downs and thin t-shirts, and he flushed warm, hands fumbling on his chopsticks.
What if Reki wanted to practice holding hands in public when they went to the mall? God. This was like — like a practice date for the practice date, how had they gotten in so deep?
"Ask your mom if we can go after school on Wednesday," Reki said, through a mouthful of fries, and Langa nodded, his mind already spinning ahead to thoughts of riding the train with Reki, of exploring a new place with him, of Reki's hand sliding into his own, their palms pressed together as they walked through racks of brightly-colored clothing. Reki would hold onto him the whole day, like an anchor, like a safety belt, never letting him go.
Sometime between now and Wednesday Langa needed to do something about his sweaty fucking hands.
On Tuesday night, Langa had a nightmare. In the dream his body was frozen. He couldn't move. He was standing by the bleachers behind his school in Canada and there was the blurry shape of a boy in front of him, but no matter how much Langa blinked, the stinging snow wouldn't clear away, and he couldn't see. I'm sorry, he was trying to say, but the words kept fading, getting lost among the snow. I'm sorry. I—I misunderstood.
You're always misunderstanding, Langa, the boy said.
His voice was sharp and cold when he repeated it, you're always misunderstanding, but those words, too, began to fade away, because the boy turned his back and disappeared into the whiteness. Langa's body wouldn't move, he was frozen. He tried to cry out, but he couldn't, he had no words, and he couldn't move, and he was alone, he was alone, he was alone and around him, the world blurred to nothing.
Langa cried out, sitting up, his room spinning around him. There was a scuffling sound somewhere in the apartment, and then his mother opened the door, her hair awry, her dressing gown thrown on hastily. "Baby?"
Langa blinked and blinked and blinked, opening his mouth like a fish, but no sound would come out. His mother closed the door behind herself and settled down on the corner of the mattress, and when she put a hand on his knee, Langa felt his eyes stinging.
"Are you okay?" she whispered. When Langa didn't respond ( couldn't respond), her voice lowered, sadly. "It's about...it's about him, isn't it?"
She meant Langa's dad, but Langa struggled for his breath and nodded because even though the nightmare hadn't been about his dad, everything came back to him anyway—if his dad was still here then Langa would never be alone. His mom squeezed his knee.
"Baby," she said, softly, and Langa choked out,
"It's okay,"
because he couldn't tell her about the boy in Canada, he just couldn't. His body burned with the embarrassment of just thinking about it. The words echoed in his mind, harsher and harsher each time: You're always misunderstanding, Langa, you're always misunderstanding, you're always misunderstanding god why do you misunderstand everything?
"Come here," said his mom, opening her arms like she was going to hug him, and then she hesitated, like she thought maybe Langa wouldn't want to. But Langa did want to, his body was burning up, his throat aching, and it was the middle of the night and he was too wound up to feel awkward hugging his mother.
When he leaned forward, she took him into his arms, stroking his hair, whispering softly to him, simple things like it's going to be okay and Langa trembled against her, trying to breathe, until finally the warmth of the touch bled into his bones enough to allow him to relax.
He remembered something, then, as she rubbed his scalp, her voice soothing in his ear. "Can I go to the mall with Reki tomorrow?" he mumbled, and she stopped murmuring for a moment, quiet in the darkness. Then she chuckled, softly, against him.
"That's what's on your mind?"
He was too tired to think. "Reki's always on my mind."
She laughed again, squeezing him. "Okay," she said. "Tell him you can go. But you need to sleep first, alright?"
"Uh-huh."
She pulled away, fluffing his pillows a little, and Langa lay down, his eyes aching, but even though it was dark he could see his mother's face. She kissed his forehead, and Langa breathed out, trying to push down the voices in his head, the voices telling him he always misunderstood, that no matter what, he would always misunderstand.
His mother closed the bedroom door quietly behind herself. Langa fumbled for the phone on his bedside table, opening his texts, eyes blurring a little over the bright lines of type. He had fallen asleep in the middle of watching a skating video Reki had sent him, and below the video were twelve more texts he had missed.
did you see that heelflip??? absolute madness
hey langa do u think u could do that but off one of those pipes behind dopesketch
langaaaa
have you finished watching yet
text me when you finish
langa did you fall asleep again????
i guess you were pretty tired earlier
i could see your eyes drooping in english class today, i really wanted to poke you with my pencil but i thought you needed the sleep
you can thank me tomorrow
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 sweet dreams
langa!!!1!!1 don't forget to ask your mom about tomorrow
<3
Langa rubbed his eyes, but he was too tired to keep them open, so clumsily he typed, I asked and she said Yes.
And then, just before he fell asleep, he remembered to type,
<3
Langa's hands were sweaty all the way to the train station the next day. It was a hot day, so Reki had his hoodie knotted around his waist, and his arms flew around while he talked, coasting next to Langa on the sidewalk. Langa tried not to look at his arms. They were just arms, he told himself, but Reki had gotten a sunburn the other day and so the tops of his arms were red, the dark hair standing out against the burn and Langa couldn't stop swallowing at all the skin. The sunburn must be warm to the touch; Langa just knew it was.
His shirt stuck uncomfortably under his armpits as they balanced on their boards outside the station, waiting for the train. "Are you zoning out again?" Reki asked, elbowing him, and Langa jumped. "You're probably still tired, aren't you? You texted me at five a.m. last night."
Langa cleared his throat. "I, um. I woke up."
"Bad dream?" said Reki, knowingly, and Langa shifted, pulling his shirt away from his chest to try to get some air. Reki could always read him so easily, he thought, even though Langa had never told him about the nightmares. He was about to nod, but then Reki elbowed him again, digging into Langa's side, and said, snickering, "Or was it a good dream?"
It took Langa's brain a moment to catch up, and his face burned. "I—no!"
"I knew it!" said Reki, hopping away when Langa tried clumsily to elbow him back. "I knew it. Of course you were thinking about dirty stuff in your sleep, you big perv."
"I wasn't!"
"Don't deny it!" said Reki, laughing, as Langa tried to grab his shirt, his fingers fumbling over warm fabric as Reki dodged him. "We're all guys here! You can tell me stuff."
"I didn't—"
"Did your mom walk in?" Reki grabbed his hand to stop Langa from punching him in the stomach, and Langa's whole body flushed hot with the way their palms pressed together, sweat sliding down his back. Reki must have seen the flush, because he grinned, his voice rising gleefully. "Oh my god, she did! Langa! Dude! That's so embarrassing, why didn't you tell me?"
"That didn't happen!" Langa said, trying to wrench his hand away, but Reki just laughed, his hair wild in the sun, his cheeks and his nose burned red, and Langa flushed even hotter. God. Reki was thinking about him—no, Jesus, he couldn't think about that right now, they were in public. He probably would have gone up in flames from the embarrassment, he thought, if the train hadn't pulled into the station right then, whistle blaring.
Reki dropped his hand and scrambled through the sliding doors, and Langa followed him, trying to catch his breath, still pulling at the front of his shirt, which was sticking to his chest now. Reki found them a seat near the back of the train car, by the windows, but the rest of the car was mostly empty, just a single elderly lady with a newspaper by the doors.
Langa slid carefully into the seat. It was small, and the only way to sit comfortably was with their legs pressed together, their boards crammed under their feet. He swallowed, looking at their knees. Reki had pressed a band-aid over one of Langa's knee scrapes the other day, and the red and orange stood out against his pale skin, so close to Reki's bony leg. Reki's body hair was a lot thicker than his, Langa realized, and for some reason the thought made his throat feel dry and hollow. How had he never noticed before?
"You want some water?" Reki asked, digging into his backpack, and Langa nodded hastily, tearing his eyes away from the way their bare skin touched below the hems of their shorts. He gulped down half the water bottle in one go, crunching the plastic, and Reki laughed. "Trying to cool off from thoughts of your dream," he started, and Langa kicked at his ankles, flushing all over again.
"Stop," he said, rubbing his mouth, screwing the lid back onto the bottle. The train began rumbling down the tracks, and he glanced out the window, watching the trees roll by. "How far is it again?"
"About an hour," Reki said, and Langa made a face, his blood thumping through his veins at just the thought of being pressed so close to Reki's body for an hour. He could feel every time that Reki shifted against him, shuffling his feet around, and every bump of Reki's arm as he collected the water bottles and stuffed them back into the backpack.
For a while Langa just watched the scenery go by, listening to Reki ramble on about his sisters, and tried not to think about the touching, except when he felt Reki's shin press against his own for a solid two minutes while Reki bent down to tie his shoes. The only thing he could think for those two minutes was holy shit he's sweating oh my god I'm sweating fuck he can probably feel it, and then Reki sat up and scratched his elbow and Langa caught a flash of neon orange.
He grabbed Reki's hand before he could drop it, and for a moment they both stared down at Reki's fingers, the bright orange polish chipped along his nails. "Oh," said Reki, and flexed his hand, spreading out his fingers so Langa could see. "Tsukihi wanted to play salon last night. She's been insisting that she's serious about becoming a beautician, but you know her, every two weeks she has a new dream job that she's sooo serious about."
"Yeah," said Langa, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the nail polish, the way it made Reki's hands look brighter, somehow, more vibrant. The polish was chipped particularly badly on Reki's thumb, the nail he always chewed in class, and for some reason it made Langa's stomach feel ragged. He wanted to touch the nails, but suddenly he realized he had been holding Reki's hand for way too long, and he dropped it quickly.
Reki was watching him. "It's a little weird," he said, and his laugh was rueful, self-conscious, as he rubbed his hands on his yellow shorts. "I told Tsukihi—"
"No," said Langa, hastily, his palms itching to grab onto Reki again. "No, it's—I think it looks cool."
"Yeah?" Reki flexed his fingers again, looking down at them, and there was a break in the trees behind him, the afternoon sun shining on his hair, and he said, sort of awkwardly, "My dad didn't like it. We always had to do it behind his back, like, at night and stuff."
Langa looked at him, his throat dry again, but in a different way than before. His voice was quieter than he expected when he said, "Really?"
Reki nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck, shifting in the seat so he could prop one foot against the seat back in front of them. "Sometimes he caught us. He always made me go wash it off 'cause he said it made me look like a girl."
Langa swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said. "He shouldn't have..."
"Yeah," said Reki, when Langa trailed off. He shifted in the seat again, his knee knocking against Langa's, and then said, "He was sort of a piece of a shit. I don't know. I don't really like talking about it, you know? That's why I never told you."
Langa nodded, pressing his own hands into his lap so he wouldn't try to reach out and lace their fingers together. "Where did he...where did he go?"
"One day when I was twelve he just bounced," said Reki, shrugging. "He took all our cash, and then we changed the locks on the doors, so we never saw him again, you know? But good riddance, I think. I mean, we're better off now."
Langa nodded again. Reki turned his hands over, looking at the band-aids taped to his left palm, and Langa said, awkwardly, "I'm glad he left, then." Reki glanced up at him, and hastily Langa amended, "I mean—I'm not glad. I mean—I mean I am glad? Am I supposed to be glad?"
Reki grinned slowly, bumping his shoulder against Langa's, the warm press of his skin making Langa's heart clench. "Yeah," he said. "You're supposed to be glad. I know what you mean, man."
He stayed there, their sides touching everywhere from elbow to hip to thigh, and Langa could feel a bead of sweat roll down his neck, but he didn't want to move away. Reki had trusted him enough to tell him this, he thought, and even though Langa had probably said the wrong thing, Reki understood what he meant. Reki always understood him. Well, almost always. It was probably best that he didn't understand what Langa thought about when he lay awake in Reki's bed, listening to the sound of Reki's snoring. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of what Reki's dad would have said if he had caught them.
"After your dad..." said Reki, quietly, and then he hesitated. The train rolled into another station, and slowly the elderly woman gathered herself off the seat, leaning heavily on the handrail as she left the train. "I mean, was it lonely in Canada?"
Langa nodded, and Reki sort of leaned against him, for comfort maybe, and Langa's heart clenched again. "Yeah," he said, hesitating, because he wanted to say it was still lonely now, in his empty apartment while his mom was at work, but instead he said, "I didn't go to school for a while. But I don't think anyone really missed me."
"What?" Reki sat up a little, looking at him, and Langa pressed his hands between his thighs. "What about your friends? Didn't they, like, try to take your mind off it and stuff?"
"Not...really," Langa said, averting his eyes, but he could still feel Reki watching him. Reki put his hand on Langa's thigh, and Langa jolted, his heart in his throat, and Reki quickly took his hand away.
"Sorry," he said, but the imprint of his warm fingers was already branded onto Langa's leg, and he struggled to calm his heart down again. God. He was so sweaty, and Reki was so close, and if he kept asking about Canada then Langa was going to blurt out something he never wanted Reki to know.
"They sound like shitty friends," Reki said, "if they didn't even stick with you while you were going through that. You deserved better."
Langa swallowed, struggling to find a way to explain, but there seemed to be no answer except the truth. "I, um," he said. "I didn't really have that many friends in Canada. They all sort of...drifted away, I guess. When I was growing up."
"Really?" Reki was still staring at him, and Langa felt his cheeks prickle, sort of ashamed. He squeezed his hands together.
"I had one friend," he said, even though his heart was picking up pace, telling him this was a bad idea, a bad idea, a bad idea. "His name was Miguel. But he kind of...stopped liking me."
"What?" Reki sounded as if the idea was completely incomprehensible. "Why?"
"It was..." Langa struggled. "It was a misunderstanding."
Reki kept watching him, but Langa just picked at a loose thread on his shorts, so after a moment Reki flopped back against the seat. "Man, that sucks," he said. "He sure missed out. Well, you have me now. Is it bad that I'm kinda glad I don't have to compete with anybody?"
Langa looked sideways at him. Reki's nose was scrunched up, and Langa could see the sunburn on his forehead underneath his hair. "It's okay to be glad," he said, quietly. He wanted to tell Reki that he was the best friend he'd ever had—that before Reki, he hadn't truly understood what a friend was, a real friend, one who cared about you no matter what. He wanted to tell Reki that his heart still stuttered in surprise every time Reki texted him good morning, or waited for him after school, or told Langa sincerely that he was amazing. But Langa's throat was too full to say any of those things, so gingerly he leaned against Reki's shoulder instead, a bit afraid Reki would move away, but Reki allowed it.
They sat for a while in the rumbling train, but Langa wasn't watching the window anymore, he was just gazing down at Reki's hand. It was lying on the edge of his shorts, his fingers slightly bent, the chipped nail polish peeling off his thumb. His hand was so close, Langa couldn't help thinking, if he just moved it over a couple of inches their fingers would brush. Did the nail polish feel smooth? Was it distracting to wear? If Langa asked, would Reki show him how to put it on?
"Hey," said Reki, suddenly, sticking his other foot up on the seat back in front of them. "We have the whole train car to ourselves."
Langa glanced up, his eyes a bit dazed from focusing so long on Reki's hand, and Reki raised his eyebrows at him. For a moment Langa struggled to figure out what he had said, and Reki must have noticed, because he sat up a little and said,
"Nobody's around. Can I try something?"
"Wh—" Langa's voice cracked, and he winced. "What kind of thing?"
Reki shifted in the seat, pulling one knee up awkwardly so he was sort of facing Langa, and Langa's heart began to pound again, his shirt getting caught around his chest. Reki put his hand on Langa's shoulder, and the warm weight of it was enough to make Langa shiver, and then Reki said, "Well, we're sort of in public, but not, you know?"
"Uh—" It was taking all of Langa's willpower not to glance down at Reki's hand, his fingers curling over Langa's shoulder. Reki's eyes were amber in the light. He was so pretty, Langa though distractedly, his heart thumping, no one should have the right to be that pretty.
"I just mean," Reki said, and hesitated. "Well, it's a good way to work ourselves up, you know? I mean someday we're gonna have to kiss in public, probably, so we should learn how to...how to not be nervous, you know?"
Langa swallowed. "But I am nervous," he croaked.
"I know, man," said Reki, and he squeezed Langa's shoulder. "It's okay, we don't have to, if you don't want to? Sorry. I didn't mean to, like, freak you out or..."
Langa swallowed again. He glanced around the train, and Reki followed his eyes.
"There's nobody around," said Reki, "but I understand if you..."
"When's the next stop?"
Reki hesitated. "Fifteen minutes, maybe? It's our stop. But we don't have to...I mean, it can be quick."
Langa could feel his heart thumping in his throat. He had never kissed anybody in public before. Maybe somebody would come into the train car and look at them funny, or maybe his hands would get so sweaty that he would leave damp spots on Reki's shirt. Langa swallowed one more time. "I...we can," he said.
"Are you sure?"
Langa nodded, because even though he was nervous, once he glanced down at Reki's mouth he couldn't look away. Reki's lips were chapped, a bright red line on the corner where the skin had torn, but Langa wanted to know what his chapped mouth felt like, what it would be like to kiss Reki here, outside of their homes, with their bodies crammed together in this tiny moving train.
"Okay," said Reki, and he fumbled a little with his position on the seat, his knee pressing to Langa's thigh now. Langa caught a flash of his orange nail polish when Reki put a hand on his chin, tilting his face, and his throat was dry when he closed his eyes. Reki's mouth bumped against the corner of his own, nervous, and Reki mumbled, "Sorry." Langa's heart thumped, because Reki had never missed his mouth before, and for some reason it made his entire body squeeze tightly.
And then Reki's mouth found his, and Langa could feel the hesitance in the way Reki brushed their lips together, kissing him briefly, pulling away only a centimeter to breathe,
"Okay?"
and Langa nodded. Reki hesitated again, and so Langa leaned forward himself, pressing their mouths back together, and even though his heart was hammering in his chest, he could feel Reki relax slightly, against him. They shared several soft kisses in the quiet of the empty train, the seat rumbling underneath them, and Langa thought his heart would beat right out of his body.
"You have hair in my face," Reki mumbled, pulling away again, using his fingers to brush Langa's hair off his cheek. The band-aid on his palm brushed against Langa's skin, and Langa's face tingled, warm and sensitive. Reki tucked his hair behind his ear, but it slipped back into his face right away, and Reki made this frustrated sound that made Langa's toes curl tightly in his sneakers. Then Reki shoved his fingers into Langa's hair, cradling the side of his head, and this time Langa didn't see the kiss coming until Reki's mouth was firm against his.
Langa choked a little, his cheeks burning, because Reki was holding him so tightly, his fingers tugging the slightest bit on Langa's hair, his mouth hot and dry. Langa could feel the broken skin of Reki's bottom lip when Reki tilted his head, and it was enough to make his stomach clench, hot, his hands tightening on his thighs.
For a moment Langa forgot they were in public; he forgot the train, he forgot the nightmares and their fathers and the practice date. He could only think about Reki, about the way Reki kissed him fiercely, with determination, as if each time was the last time, as if he only had one chance to get it just right.
When Reki pulled away again, he didn't let go of Langa's hair, he just slid his thumb down the line of Langa's neck, and Langa shuddered again, the feeling going all the way down his spine. "Hang on," Reki whispered, frowning slightly, using his other hand to thumb at Langa's bottom lip, and Langa opened his mouth just a little, his heart pressing against his ribs so hard it was almost painful because god, god. Reki took his hand away, his pretty fucking hand with those pretty fucking fingernails, and said, "Don't freak out, but I think I got blood on you."
"Wh—at?"
"It's not bad," said Reki, and Langa's eyes darted to his mouth, where the cut on Reki's lip had opened slightly. "Here, I'll..."
He leaned in again, and Langa felt the wet touch of Reki's tongue against his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding in his chest, in his ribs, in his tingling hands. God. Reki just....so easily...and Reki pulled away again, puffed air on Langa's face, and then leaned back in.
This time the kiss was wetter, and Reki slid his tongue along the seam of Langa's mouth until Langa felt like whimpering into the quiet. Reki's hand was still in his hair, tugging unintentionally, and when Langa shifted in the seat, the hem of his shorts crumpled against Reki's knee, pressing to the bare skin there. Langa knew his breathing was heavy and hot, and Reki pulled away again, pressing brief, quick kisses to his mouth, as if he couldn't leave all at once, and he whispered, "You breathe all funny when we kiss, you know?"
Langa struggled for words—for air. He could feel the blood pounding in his cheeks, and he squeezed his eyes more tightly closed, as if he could somehow disappear into the seat back. "Sorry," he said, in an embarrassingly scratchy voice, and Reki murmured,
"No, no—girls'll think it's cute," and Langa's heart only beat harder at the word, cute, nobody had ever called him that before, and he could feel Reki's free hand pressed gently to his chest, to the damp fabric right over his heart, where he was all flushed and sweaty and oh god oh god. "See," Reki said, so softly, "your heart is beating so fast."
"Ah—" Langa couldn't get his throat around any words, fuck, it didn't matter the language. "I—"
"Are you nervous?" said Reki, taking his hand away, and Langa's shirt stuck to his skin in the warm place Reki had left behind, and he almost couldn't bear to squint his eyes open. Almost, but when he did, he could see the red of Reki's cheeks and hair swimming in his vision and his heart clenched. This was how he was going to die, Langa thought, with his hair clutched in Reki's clumsy fingers.
"Uh—"
"It's okay," said Reki. "Maybe I—I got too caught up." Finally he detangled his hand from Langa's hair, letting it brush against his shoulder before he dropped it into his lap, glancing around the train car. "I forgot we were in public," he said, with a kind of breathless laugh.
"Uh," Langa managed again, because his brain was still stuck on the way Reki had pressed his hand over his chest. Reki had felt Langa's pounding heart. The flush was so warm Langa thought it must be permanent—Reki had broken him somehow, he was going to feel this way forever: sweaty and tight-chested and like his clothes had shrunk too small to fit him.
"We're almost there," said Reki, still sounding embarrassed as he pulled his backpack into his lap, hunting around. He pressed the water bottle back into Langa's hand. "Here, I saved this for you, I thought you might need it."
Langa could barely croak a "thank you" as he unscrewed the water and gulped it so quickly he nearly choked. It would never be enough, his body was too warm and itchy and Reki had felt how fast Langa's heart was pounding, Reki knew, he knew the exact pace and feeling of Langa's pulse. Langa rubbed his mouth and crumpled the water bottle in his fist. Reki was gathering their things together now, and his lips were no longer chapped, and Langa swallowed hard at the bashful sort of smile Reki gave him as they stood up.
He would not misunderstand this, Langa told himself, over and over as they waited for the train to pull into the station. He would not.
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