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."
Langa nodded, his chest aching again. He wanted to ask Reki to say that word again, home, because for the first time in a long time it felt true, that Langa had found a home, maybe in Okinawa, or maybe in the warm clasp of Reki's sweaty hand. Maybe after this trip, Reki would sleep over in Langa's bed again, with his arms snug around Langa's waist, so that when he left, Langa's bed would smell like home again.
"Wanna jump over the waves?" asked Reki, when they stepped gingerly from dry sand onto dark, damp sand, and Langa stared in wonder at the white edges of the waves rising and receding at his feet.
"Jump?"
"Yeah," said Reki, dropping his sandals onto the sand and sticking his toes into the incoming spray of water. "Me and my sisters used to play it all the time when my d—when my mom would bring us to the ocean." He rubbed at his cheek, laughing a little, and Langa watched him. He wanted to ask if Reki had been about to say my dad, but then Reki said, "Basically, we just stand ankle deep and try to jump over the waves. It makes my sisters crack up, like, so much."
"Okay," Langa agreed, but when they waded into the water, he didn't jump. He just sucked in a breath and paused, staring down. The water was colder than he had imagined, and it felt bright and crisp on his sunburned feet, and Langa let out his breath in a woosh.
"Good?" asked Reki, stopping, looking at him.
Langa nodded. "It feels..." He searched for the word, but he couldn't find it, and maybe there wasn't a word for it, for the wonder of it all, the way the waves lapped at his ankles, the way the sand slid around under his feet, the way he could see his pale toes through the ocean, dark in the fading light. "It's good," he said, instead, and Reki squeezed his hand.
"Man," he said, and Langa could hear the smile in his voice. "This was what I was saying on the train, y'know? About how you get so surprised by the small things. It's like. It's like, when I bring my sisters to the ocean, they just wanna run and scream and have me throw them in the water, like, a million times, but you just like to look at stuff. It's amazing."
"I'm appreciating," said Langa, still watching his toes, watching the sand drift over them, only to be pulled back again by the ebb of the waves. Reki's words felt warm on his skin. It was so nice of Reki to find these tiny things about him and praise them, he thought, it was so nice, and Langa wanted to share all the tiny things he loved about Reki, too. There were so many. Maybe when they got back to the hotel he would have a chance to tell him some of them.
"I know, man," said Reki, his voice still heavy with that affection, and Langa felt even warmer. He liked seeing Reki's feet move closer to his own, their arms brushing again. "I'm appreciating you appreciating. Man, it's like, I never stop and see stuff until I see it with you."
Langa could feel himself smiling. God. God, nobody had ever said anything so nice about him. "I never really think about stuff until you tell me your thoughts about it," he said, and Reki laughed a little, a bit embarrassed, squeezing their hands again. Langa felt good. He felt at home. He felt like maybe he had always had a space beside him meant for Reki, and maybe Reki had had a space meant for him, too, and now they had found each other.
They stood still in the water for a long few moments, just watching the water, and then Reki said, "Hey, man, can I ask you something?"
Langa's heart throbbed, once, in his throat. "Yes?"
Reki rubbed his wrist, without letting go of Langa's hand. "You never talk about...your dad," he said, awkwardly. "I was just wondering, like, what he was like. But you don't have to tell me if—if you're not ready yet or—or if it's too personal, sorry, I'm just being nosy. It's just like, there's this big thing in your life and I don't know anything about it and I guess I'm just being selfish. Sorry. Sorry. Okay. You don't have to answer."
"No," said Langa, grabbing Reki's hand, where he was rubbing vigorously against the sunburn on his wrist. Carefully Langa guided Reki's fingers away from the sensitive skin. "It's okay. I just...I never know what to say."
Did Reki want to know how his dad had died? God, Langa hoped not.
But Reki just rubbed at the sunburn on his nose and said, "Like—like. Like, were you close to him? Did you talk about your feelings and stuff? Or was it just, like...manly stuff, like you just snowboarded together and watched sports on TV?"
Langa watched him, a sudden understanding dawning on him. Reki was asking because he wanted to know what it was like to have a dad—a real dad, not the asshole he had called a father. Langa swallowed and looked down at their joined hands, touching Reki's knuckles gently with his thumb, smoothing down the peeling edge of his band-aid.
"We were close," he said, and then he had to clear his throat, because he was beginning to feel a little choked up. "But we didn't really...we didn't really talk about our feelings all the time. We sort of—had our own language? I don't...I don't know the way to explain in Japanese." He hesitated, rolling the memories over in his mind. He and his dad had always understood each other somehow, without needing to say anything aloud; everything was muscle memory, from all their time on the slopes, from all the nights his dad sat Langa on his knee and pointed out the pictures in children's books. He didn't know how to explain, so he said, "We...I love him so much."
Reki made a sound in his throat, shuffling closer. Langa swallowed, and then he swallowed again, because his throat was full, and for a moment he thought he might cry, but then he swallowed a third time and the moment passed. Birds were still flying over their heads, and Langa could hear the waves crashing gently against the shore, and he squeezed Reki's hand.
"We understood each other," Langa said, and then he hesitated, because he could feel Reki watching him. "I...sometimes I don't understand things. You know?"
"Like because of the language?" asked Reki, quietly.
Langa shook his head. Everything felt big, for some reason: the new feelings of the ocean, the big, big sky overhead, the anxiety that consumed him sometimes, a wrinkle in his brain that he had never had the courage to explain to Reki. "I think it's more than that," he said. "It was that way in Canada, too. Sometimes I just don't understand people, or why they do the stuff they do, like, like when a girl likes me, I never notice until you explain it to me."
Maybe that was a bad example. There were so many things Reki had explained to him, the way tipping worked at restaurants, how to tell if teachers liked you based on how they responded to your emails, the difference between your mom being mad and being disappointed, and why one was worse than the other. Langa could have said one of those, but Reki didn't say anything about the girls, he just squeezed Langa's hand again and shuffled the smallest bit closer.
"You like when I explain stuff?"
Langa caught the note in his voice, not self-consciousness exactly, not desperation, but something in the middle, maybe hope. Langa nodded hastily. "It helps so much," he said, and then the overwhelming feeling of love for Reki swelled in his throat and he tripped over himself to say, "I like it a lot. It's—you have no idea. I like to hear you explain skating and, and, and the way you think there's different leagues of people at school, like how some of them are cooler than the others and so they can't be friends with each other, and, and it's just. I never knew about that stuff before. So, so thank you. Thank you for explaining."
Reki gazed at him, his hair drifting off his forehead in the gust of wind, his mouth twisted up in something like a suppressed smile—like the smile was so big he was afraid to let it show. "Of course, man," he said, and his voice was strained with the emotion, and he squeezed Langa's hand so tightly, so tightly. "Hah, I...I like to explain, y'know? Man, there's nothing I like more than talking." He laughed a little, his face creased and warm, red all over from the sunburn, and Langa's heart throbbed again, but this time with love, with love for Reki.
"I like when you talk," Langa said. "You could never—you could never talk too much for me. Just, just so you know."
Reki's face scrunched up, his eyes squinting with the smile, his neck flushed with color, and he squeezed Langa's hand again. "Aw, man," he said, his voice still strained, and then he tugged Langa forward, so Langa stumbled against his chest, and then Reki's warm, strong arms were tight around his back, clasped between his shoulderblades. Reki's face was hidden, so Langa couldn't see his expression, but he felt Reki's shoulders shudder, maybe with a laugh or a sob or both, somehow, and carefully Langa put his own arms around Reki, too. He buried his mouth in Reki's shoulder, in the thin fabric of his sleeve, and breathed in the way he smelled, the way his chest rose and fell against Langa's. Langa could feel his own heart thundering against his ribs, and he knew Reki could probably feel it, too, but for once it was okay, because Reki was emotional, too, and they were allowed to be emotional together.
Langa loved Reki. He loved everything about him, even the messy parts, even the way he sometimes interrupted people in his eagerness to start talking, even the way he sometimes didn't notice that Langa was drifting off to sleep because he was so caught up in explaining some TV show. Langa squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hands flat to the small of Reki's back, marveling in the feeling of holding his body. He loved Reki so much that he felt a little broken with it, but maybe that was okay, maybe it was alright to be a little broken sometimes, when it was just him and Reki.
Reki pressed his cheek against the sunburn on Langa's shoulder. For a long time all Langa could feel was his breathing, soft and slow.
The sky grew purple around them, and finally Reki stood up straight again, rubbing at his face. "Thanks, man," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Sorry. Crap. Sorry, I just...I needed that."
"Of course," Langa said, holding onto his shoulders and watching his face, the way Reki's sunburn was peeling on his nose, the textured skin on his cheeks, the soft hair on his upper lip as he rubbed at his mouth. Langa wanted to kiss him, but he wanted to hold him more, he wanted to stroke Reki's hair and tell him he was wonderful, that he had changed Langa's life. "Can I say more?" he asked.
Reki laughed a little, a wet sort of sound. "What?"
"Can I say more things I like?"
"About—me?"
Langa nodded, and Reki huffed another laugh, scrunching up his face, his cheeks pushing up into a wobbly smile even as tears swelled up between his clumpy eyelashes. "Ah—ah, I won't— stop you."
Langa tightened his hands around Reki's waist. Finally, he thought, finally he would be able to share the things he had wanted to say for so long. "I like all the different colored clothes you have," he said. "And how you wear them all together. Every day there's a new combination." Reki laughed again, rubbing the tears from his eyes, and Langa wanted to kiss them away, but instead he just smoothed his thumbs over Reki's arms, because this was about Reki, about mending the hole in his heart from all the people who had told him he wasn't good enough. "And I like how you use all these funny words instead of swearing. Because of your little sisters."
"They're not funny," said Reki, laughing again, his eyes drier now, and he kicked at Langa's ankles, sloshing the water up onto Langa's shins. Langa didn't care; he only cared about the brightness of Reki's squinted-up eyes. "I can swear if I want to! I just think it's uncool."
"Uh-huh," said Langa, even though he knew the truth, which was that Reki didn't want to be a bad influence on his baby sisters, and also because in some ways Reki still loved the things from his own childhood, monster truck movies and bandaids with cartoons on them and saying things like crap and freaking. "And also I like the things you doodle on my notebooks. Sometimes I keep them. The drawings."
Reki huffed out another laugh, scrubbing at his face, his foot bumping against Langa's in the cold water. "You don't have to do that," he said. "I know they're kinda shitty."
"No," said Langa. "None of them are shitty."
Reki laughed again, and god, his face was so flushed and pretty and Langa wanted to compliment again and again, until he ran out of things to say, but he knew deep down that he would probably never run out. Sometimes Langa had a hard time talking, but he never had a hard time talking about Reki. "You're a good guy, Langa," Reki said, squeezing his arms. His tank top ruffled in the wind, his hair whipping around his face, his hands warm against Langa's elbows. "The best."
His voice was so heavy with affection that Langa ached. It felt like a confession, even though Langa knew in his heart that it wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't but god he wanted it to be.
"Can we jump?" he asked. His feet were growing cold; he could feel his toes wrinkling. "You never showed me how."
"Ah," said Reki, squeezing his arms one more time before letting go. "Yeah! Of course." He lined himself up next to Langa, tangling their fingers together, watching their feet as the waves rolled over their ankles. "Okay, c'mere, let's go a little deeper."
Langa waded alongside him until the water rose halfway up their shins. The sun had set completely by now, and the air that blew through them made Langa shiver, but Reki's hand was warm and tight in his own hand and Langa would have followed him anywhere. A larger wave rolled in and Reki leapt in the water, splashing the bottoms of Langa's shorts, laughing, and Langa could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You got me wet," he said.
"C'mon!" Reki said, pulling on his arm. "You have to jump too!"
Another wave crested in front of them and Langa jumped when Reki did, still grinning, the sand sliding away from under his feet, the water leaping up and soaking the hems of his shorts, but Langa laughed when Reki did, because it felt like if he didn't laugh, he was going to cry, from all the emotion overflowing in his chest. But he was with Reki and he was laughing, and when the next wave came rolling in, they jumped again and they jumped again and they jumped again and Langa laughed until his chest ached, until his throat burned, and then
he slipped
and then he was falling, and then he was on his ass in the water, another wave catching him around the chest, water splashing up into his mouth, his clothes soaked, and Reki gasped around a laugh, still hanging onto Langa's arm. "Dude!" Reki said, and Langa groaned, lifting his wet arms out of the water, and Reki started laughing again when he saw that Langa was okay, holding his stomach with his free hand, and Langa splashed water up onto Reki's tank top with all the strength he had.
"Stop!" yelped Reki, and when he tried to jump over the next wave, Langa pulled hard on his arm and Reki came toppling down into the water, too, his hands catching on Langa's shoulders, his legs slipping out from under him, sending another wave of water up to Langa's neck, and Langa was laughing harder, grabbing onto Reki's torso in the water as Reki spluttered. "A—asshole!"
"That's not fair," gasped Langa, laughing even as Reki splashed water up onto his face, squeezing his eyes shut against the salt. "You're not allowed to swear!"
"I'll swear if I freakin' want—"
"See!"
"Stop!" Reki splashed him again, but then he started laughing, too, his body shaking under Langa's hands, his forehead bumping against Langa's for a moment as he struggled to get his knees under himself. The water was so cold, everything was cold but the moment felt so vibrant and alive and Langa laughed because he could feel so many things, he could feel the salty burst of each wave, he could feel the rough sand moving beneath him, he could feel the crisp air on his face, in his damp hair. He could feel so many things and god, god, god when was the last time he had felt like this?
I love you, he wanted to gasp, because god it was true, but Reki was splashing him again and then Langa had to splash back and everything was so good and alive and god he didn't want to ruin the moment for anything.
Reki stayed with his knees pressed to Langa's, his body bumping against Langa's in so many places, laughing until his body started to shiver under Langa's hands. Before Langa had a chance to say anything, Reki wiped his eyes and gasped through a laugh, "You're cold, man! You're cold, we should get out."
"You're the one who's cold," Langa said, but Reki smacked his arm, water splashing up onto Langa's neck, and when Langa made a face, Reki squeezed him and said,
"Sorry sorry sorry!" and scrambled to his feet, pulling Langa with him. Langa wobbled a little in the sand and Reki caught him briefly around the waist, and Langa had to swallow back the sudden urge to grab him and kiss him right there, knee-deep in the ocean, with Reki's hand on the curve of his waist and god Langa wanted to kiss him. But then he shivered, violently, in the sudden gust of cold wind that brought another wave splashing against their bare legs, and Reki grabbed his hand and began tugging him toward shore.
"If we get sick," Langa said, tripping after him, trying to stop his teeth from chattering "I'm going to tell my mom it was your fault."
"It was your fault!" Reki said, laughing, his face tilting briefly toward the night sky, and Langa's heart began to thunder against his ribs, just as if he had kissed him. Reki's laugh was so loud and perfect in the open air and his silhouette was so crisp and bright in the moonlight, and god, god Langa had never felt so alive.
Rain blew in after them, and it pattered against the windows of their hotel room, but no storm could drown out the most beautiful sound in the world:
Reki was singing in the shower.
And Langa was suffering.
He lay on his back on the bed, his face flushed warm, burning with the urge to walk over to the bathroom door, where he could hear Reki's shower running. They had been shivering when they checked into the hotel, their soaked clothes dripping onto the floor, and they had run barefoot all the way up to their room in the freezing air conditioning. Reki had insisted that Langa take the first shower, and so he had, soaking the hot water into his skin until he couldn't take it anymore, but now he just had to lay here, a towel wrapped clumsily around his hair, listening to Reki sing.
It wasn't even—Langa wasn't even sure it was a coherent song. It didn't matter. Reki's voice was scratchy and slightly off-tune and he kept trying to do these notes too low for his vocal range, and whenever he did, the notes vibrated so perfectly with the sound of falling water, and they made Langa's brain screech, almost desperate with want. He balled up his hands on the comforter, listening to Reki's voice crack on a word that sounded like baby, and tried not to think about Reki climbing on top of him on the bed, laying his head down on Langa's chest and singing those scratchy words directly into Langa's pounding heart.
God. He rubbed at his face. It was like, it was like every day Langa discovered something new about Reki, and it wasn't fair, because the things were always devastating, somehow, because of how much they made Langa's chest ache. How had he never asked Reki to sing for him before? Could Langa ask him to do it again? Every day? At his wedding, someday?
The water shut off, and Langa almost groaned when Reki's mumbling voice died away, because god, he wanted to listen to Reki sing forever. But then he heard the sound of bottles clattered onto the shower floor and sat up, remembering that now maybe he would be able to touch Reki again. They had held each other's hands for hours and hours. Langa's palms already ached from the loss of it.
He scrambled off the bed and padded across the carpet to the bathroom, and just as he was about to knock, Reki opened the door, steam pouring out around him. Langa blinked, partly because of the steam but mostly because Reki's face was so rosy and warm and bright, a towel around his shoulders, his hair dripping down his neck. Langa swallowed. Reki was dressed in just an oversized t-shirt and his boxers, and he looked so clean and soft and huggable, and god, it was unfair, Langa just wanted to hug him so badly.
"I heard," Langa began, and then stopped himself, because oh what if Reki was self-conscious about his singing, but it was too late to take the words back, so shamefacedly he admitted, "I heard you singing."
"Ah," Reki said, laughing a little, rubbing the towel over his wet hair, his frizzy little flyaways curling up. "Sorry about that. I sorta zoned out."
"It's okay," said Langa, shuffling his feet. Somehow he felt sort of shy, even though there was no reason to, it was just that Reki looked so soft and pretty after his shower and Langa didn't know what to do with all his feelings. He wanted to reach out and touch, he wanted to wrap his fingers in the front of Reki's t-shirt, but he was too embarrassed, so he just said, "You have a...a nice voice, I think."
"You think?" Reki said, teasing, reaching out with his foot to kick lightly at Langa's ankle, and Langa jumped a little, flushing. God, there was no reason to feel shy! But, but the hotel room was just so quiet and softly-lit, and Langa felt a bit embarrassed in his bare feet, in the cold air conditioning, standing here in front of Reki with his hair wrapped in a towel.
"You do," Langa said, and cleared his throat, balling up his hands in the hem of his own t-shirt, which was worn and old from how often he slept in it. "I didn't know you could sing."
"Ah, I can't really," said Reki, and then, before Langa could argue, he bounced on the balls of his feet and gestured to Langa's towel hat. "Do you wanna dry your hair? They have a blowdryer in here, I can help you."
"Ah," said Langa, a bit incoherent, because the collar of Reki's shirt had slipped off one of his shoulders and Langa could see the fresh tanline burned there, from his tank top. He tried to shake himself, letting go of the hem of his shirt. "Okay. I—thank you."
"Of course, man," said Reki, and then he took Langa by the arm, and Langa swallowed because of how warm his palm was, how smooth his skin felt without the bandaid he had been wearing all day. Clumsily Langa followed him into the tiny bathroom, their bodies bumping together as he watched Reki plug in the blow dryer. They had had so many sleepovers, but somehow they had never shared a bathroom like this, and Langa felt warm and shy and a little fragile with the intimacy of it. Reki squeezed his shoulder through his thin sleep shirt and Langa barely suppressed a shudder at the touch.
"Did you put in the conditioner?" Reki asked. "That's very important."
Langa swallowed, and oh, Reki had remembered about the conditioner. Langa had taught him about that, and Reki had remembered, even though the girls had made fun of him for it at that horrible mixer. Langa nodded. "Yeah," he said, and then hesitated. "Did you?"
Reki wrinkled his nose. "Yeah," he said. "I always use it now. Don't make fun of me!" Quickly he hopped up onto the sink, scooting backward, and Langa tried not to think about Reki lathering the conditioner into his hair after every shower, humming to himself, maybe even thinking about Langa. Reki touched his shoulders, and Langa jumped again, flushing anew, and Reki made an amused sort of sound in his throat, carefully turning Langa around.
Langa allowed himself to be maneuvered, his mouth feeling drier than before as Reki parted his legs, his knees bumping against Langa's sides. Reki was so close that Langa could feel the hair on his shins, rubbed soft and fluffy from the hotel towels, and the way Reki fumbled with the towel wrapped around his head. Langa squeezed his eyes shut as the towel fell away and Reki's hands came back to touch him, smoothing the hair carefully off his face, the pads of his fingers gentle and damp.
"Did you hear the storm?" Reki asked. "I'm super glad we didn't try to go home tonight, y'know? The trains would probably be all backed up."
Langa nodded. He was glad, too, not because of the trains, but because he had been dreaming about this night for so long, a chance to hold Reki as they slept between smooth, fresh sheets, a chance to wake up smelling the same and brushing their teeth in the same bathroom, a chance to experience something so new and exciting together.
"I like the rain," Langa said, and Reki made a humming sound of agreement, one of his ankles bumping against Langa's hip, and Langa swallowed. "It's...it's nice."
"That's very you," said Reki, and Langa could hear a smile in his voice, and he flushed a little, even though he didn't know exactly what Reki meant. Then Reki turned on the blowdryer, and Langa kept his eyes closed so he could try to memorize the feeling of Reki's fingers carding through his hair, tilting his head gently one way and the other as he moved the blowdryer around. His knees pressed against Langa's sides, and Langa felt warm on either side, and secure, as if Reki was holding him.
Something swelled up in his throat, and he had to fight to choke it back down, because, god, nobody had ever made him feel cherished the way Reki did. He touched Langa so carefully, stroking over his scalp, lifting the damp hair off of his neck. Nobody had ever treated Langa as if he was precious, and he had never known before how much he needed somebody to.
"Your hair's so soft," Reki mumbled admiringly, tilting Langa's head to the side, and Langa swallowed again, squinting his eyes open again. He could see the sunburn on the tops of Reki's swinging feet, the flip-flop tanlines, and the feeling swelled up in his throat again. Reki was so adorable. Reki was so kind, so sweet, so precious, god he was precious, and Langa wanted to make him feel cherished, too.
Finally Reki turned off the blowdryer, ruffling Langa's hair with both hands, and Langa pressed his hands to his thighs, because it felt so good, Reki's hands in his hair, Reki's thumbs smoothing against the nape of his neck, Reki's legs against his sides. "Thank you," Langa managed, and Reki, god, Reki squeezed him with his knees and Langa nearly let out a whimper.
"Any time, man," Reki said, his hands still tangled in Langa's hair, and Langa swallowed, his face so so so warm, because god it sounded like Reki meant it, as if he would come over and help Langa wash his hair anytime Langa wanted. Finally Reki pulled his hands away, clearing his throat. "Can you help with mine? I mean, you don't have to sit up here, you're tall enough, but I mean, I mean only if you want, like, you don't have to, I don't mean—"
"I want to," said Langa quickly, turning around, and Reki met his eyes, his voice trailing away, and Langa's heart stuttered in his chest. God. Reki's cheeks were so pink from the shower, his hair messy, his pajama shirt rumpled and his posture slouchy and adorable and god, he was so precious, he was so lovable and Langa wanted to hug him so badly. He gazed up at Reki, a little helpless, because for some reason he didn't know how to say how much he wanted to snuggle against Reki's body and let Reki wrap his arms and legs around him, how much he wanted to kiss Reki so sweetly, how much he wanted to whimper against his beautiful mouth, how much he wanted Reki to hold him.
Reki swallowed, his throat bobbing, and slid down onto the floor. He didn't take his eyes off Langa's, and Langa had to swallow, too, because now Reki was standing so close that Langa could see the hairs on his eyebrows that stood up funny, the ones Langa had always wanted to kiss. God. His heart was throbbing against his chest. He should have kissed Reki in the ocean, when he had a chance, because now he wasn't sure he'd ever have the nerve. How had he ever gotten up the courage, before, to kiss someone so pretty?
Langa didn't know. He didn't have the words to explain, so instead he picked up the blowdryer, carefully. "Tell me if it's too hot," he said, and Reki cleared his throat and nodded, turning around.
He turned on the blowdryer, angling it at the back of Reki's head, and then Langa was allowed to touch his hair, too, the way Reki had touched him, smoothing out the unruly curls, the frizzy ends. Instead of coming down in a peak at the nape of his neck, Reki's hair curled into a point under one of his ears, and Langa wanted to kiss it, he wanted to kiss it so badly, but he made himself focus. Reki's hair went brittle and dry in his fingers, and when the collar of his sleep shirt slipped down his back, Langa could see the freckles blooming on his shoulders, and he had to swallow again, and again, to stop himself from touching.
He knew Reki's skin would feel so warm under his fingers.
"Thank you," said Reki, when Langa finally turned off the blowdryer and ran his hands one last time over Reki's frizzy hair, fluffing it up like a cloud without his headband to hold it in place. Langa's face was warm, but when Reki turned around, he gave Langa a soft smile, and the nerves in Langa's stomach melted away. God. He wanted to kiss Reki's smile. "Dude, you're so sunburned."
He reached up and thumbed at Langa's cheek, and Langa could feel himself flushing again, no matter how much he tried to force it down. "You are, too," he managed. "Yours is worse."
Reki made a face and then laughed a little. "Yeah, but I'm used to it," he said. "This happens to me every summer, but you've got, like, delicate skin. You're the prince, remember?" He rubbed Langa's cheek again, tilting his head. "Ah, I feel like I ruined you."
His hand fell away, and Langa swallowed again. His chest shouldn't burn this way, because he knew Reki was probably worried about being a bad influence on him, too, the way he had been worried about people laughing at Langa's nail polish. But Langa liked it anyway. He liked the thought of Reki leaving a mark on him, somehow, the way gravel embedded itself in his palms when he skidded on the concrete after a bad skating fall. Reki made him feel alive, more real, even in the gritty, messy ways.
"You didn't," Langa said, and then, because he probably sounded too vulnerable, he added, "I'm the one who kept forgetting the sunscreen."
Reki laughed again, tucking his hair back, bobbing on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, okay. It's your fault."
Langa flushed. "I take it back."
"Too late!" Reki punched Langa's shoulder, lightly, so lightly, his fist lingering there, and Langa made a face at him to hide the way his heart was hammering. "I'm serious, man, you don't want that to peel. It'll hurt like hell. C'mere, my mom gave me something before he left."
He tugged Langa out of the bathroom, under the blasting air conditioning, and rooted around in their overflowing bags, coming up with a small green bottle and showing it to Langa. Langa tried to read the label aloud, but the words were unfamiliar, and Reki laughed a little, pushing gently on his chest until Langa fell onto the bed.
"It's aloe vera," Reki said. "It'll help with the burn. Hang on." He scrambled onto the bed beside Langa, the mattress dipping, and then uncapped the bottle, squeezing it into his palm. "Can I put it on your face?"
Langa's mouth felt dry. Reki wanted to touch his face? "Uh—" He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Go ahead."
"Cool," said Reki, poking his tongue into his cheek, frowning a little in concentration as he reached out, smoothing his fingers over Langa's cheek. Langa shivered a little, pulling his feet up onto the bed, because the lotion was cold but Reki's fingers were gentle, god the way he touched Langa was so gentle. Carefully Reki spread the aloe vera across Langa's nose and cheeks and even his forehead, where Langa hadn't even realized he was sunburned, and then Reki dropped his eyes to Langa's collar, swallowing.
"What?" asked Langa, feeling his body go even warmer, because god, whenever Reki looked at him that way—eyes glued to Langa's skin, color high in his cheeks, an intense expression on his face—god, it made Langa want to die, and it also made him want to grab Reki and beg him to look at him some more.
"You're sunburned here, too," Reki said, tracing the tanline across Langa's throat, and Langa nearly choked at the way Reki's fingernail scraped against his skin. "And probably..." Reki hesitated. "Probably on your stomach, a little, too? I noticed when we were on the Ferris wheel."
"Oh." Langa's throat was so, so dry. Reki was going to touch him—there? "Okay."
"Do you want to do it yourself?" Reki asked, offering the bottle, but Langa was shaking his head hastily before he fully processed the action.
"No," he said, and, ah, this was embarrassing, wasn't it? He could feel his face flushing all over again. "I mean, uh, do you—do you mind?"
"I don't mind," said Reki, and god, his face looked flushed, too, and Langa didn't know if it was the sunburn or the sound of his own heartbeat pulsing through the room, because surely Reki must feel that, too. "Okay. Um. Hang on." Reki pulled his legs up, crossing them underneath him, and reached to tug Langa's collar away from his neck. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?"
Langa nodded, because now he wasn't sure he could speak, and Reki squeezed the aloe vera onto his fingers again and touched Langa's neck carefully. Langa swallowed, his throat bobbing against Reki's fingers, and Reki made a hoarse sound in his throat, and Langa felt like his face going to burn off. But he didn't say anything, and Reki just cleared his throat, the flush high on his face, working quickly and carefully. When he took his hands away, Langa had to choke back a whine, because he wanted Reki to touch him again, he wanted Reki's arms wrapped around him and Reki's chin buried in his shoulder, he wanted and he wanted and he wanted .
But then Reki hiked up the sleeves of Langa's t-shirt, spreading the aloe vera over his burning shoulders, and Langa had to bite the inside of his mouth again, because god, Reki's hands felt so good. Nobody had ever touched him so gently, so softly, in these simple ways that shouldn't feel good but did, somehow, because it was Reki. It was like Langa's body was burning with nerve endings that he had never known existed, and he shifted on the bed, wanting to press closer to Reki's hands but not sure how.
"Okay," said Reki, and then cleared his throat again, busying himself with the bottle, squeezing it into his hands again. "Can you—lift up your shirt? I won't look, I promise, I mean I won't look more than I need to, I mean, I just mean, hah—"
Langa thought he was going to die, but he managed to swallow down the worst of the blush and nod. "It's okay," he said, and then, because he couldn't help himself, he said, "You can—look. I mean. It's okay to look."
Reki cleared his throat again, and god, his ears looked so red, and Langa swallowed again, flushing, because what if Reki was blushing that way because of him? No, it was too much to hope for, it made his body burn too much, he would never survive if he thought about Reki getting flustered over looking at Langa's stomach. Hesitantly Langa lifted the hem of his t-shirt, too afraid to look down and see if he really was sunburned.
"Is it—bad?" he asked, and Reki glanced at him and then back at his hands, clearing his throat again.
"No," Reki said, his voice scratchy. "It's not—it's not as bad as I thought. Like, it probably won't peel." He rubbed at his face with the back of his hand, shifting on the bed, one of his knees beginning to bounce in the way it did when he was nervous, and Langa swallowed again.
"Okay," he said, and then, because Reki seemed to need the reassurance, he added, "I'm ready."
"Ah." Reki shook himself a little. "Okay!" His voice cracked a little on the word, and Langa's neck flushed, and then—and then Reki put his hands on Langa's stomach, both of them at once, and Langa's stomach jumped, and Reki snatched his hands away. For a moment both of them just breathed heavily into the silence, and then Langa managed,
"Sorry, I was just—I was just surprised,"
and Reki exclaimed, "Sorry! Okay," and reached for Langa's torso again. This time his hands were more hesitant, but Langa still had to suppress a shudder, because, god, the way Reki's fingers spread out, skating over the bottom of his ribs, made him want to shiver all over.
"The sunburn's not bad," Reki repeated, his voice a little strained, swiping his fingers over the bones of Langa's hips and Langa tried to swallow, tried not to make any embarrassing noises. Reki hesitated again, and then traced the edges of Langa's scar, and Langa tried to catch his breath, because he was sure now that his chest was heaving, but Reki just glanced up at his face and asked, "When'd you get surgery?"
"Ah—" Langa knew his face was red. "I, ah. It was a couple of years ago. When I was a freshman."
Reki nodded, clearing his throat, the tips of his ears still flushed. "Was it scary?"
"I—I guess so." It had been an inconvenience more than anything, time off of snowboarding, time away from school. "Ah—when did you get yours?"
Reki glanced at himself, and finally he took his hands off Langa's stomach, and Langa had to swallow heavily, because he wanted to grab Reki's wrists and place his hands back on his skin and, and, and. "It was when I was little," Reki said. "I barely even remember being sick, but my mom said I was such a pain in the butt." He grinned a little, like was remembering, tugging the hem of his shirt up so that Langa caught a glimpse of the faded, puckered scar there, and he swallowed. "But it was kinda exciting to me. I don't know. I got all these balloons and lollipops at the hospital, and I was just like, all proud that I got to be the center of attention for once."
Langa was so flushed and embarrassed, but he could still feel himself smiling, thinking about baby Reki, all puffed up and proud of himself for surviving surgery, fists clasped around way too many Get Well Soon balloons. "That's kind of funny," he said.
"Yeah," said Reki. "I've always been a hoot!"
Langa laughed, and then Reki laughed too, nudging his ankle against Langa on the bed. Reki's face was still rosy and flushed, and he grabbed the aloe vera off the comforter, offering it to Langa again, saying,
"Can you put it on me?"
and Langa choked on the laugh, his face heating up all over again, but he nodded and took the bottle. Reki closed his eyes, the ghost of a smile still lingering around his mouth, and Langa had to swallow several times while he fumbled to get the bottle open. Reki was sitting there so patiently, his knee still bouncing, waiting for Langa to touch him, like he trusted Langa to take care of him, and Langa—Langa wanted to do a good job of it. He carefully touched Reki's face with the gel, and Reki scrunched up his cheeks immediately.
"Cold," he complained, and Langa swallowed.
"Don't be a baby," he said, but there was no bite to it, because really he thought it would be okay if Reki was a baby sometimes, if sometimes Reki allowed Langa to take care of him the way he took care of Langa. Langa tried to hold his hands steady as he smoothed the aloe vera over Reki's rough, textured skin, being extra gentle on his nose, where the peeling edges of the skin looked raw and red. "Does it hurt?"
"Nah," said Reki, keeping his eyes screwed shut, and Langa swallowed, taking his hands away. He couldn't resist looking at Reki's mouth, even though he felt a little guilty, because for once he knew Reki wouldn't catch him staring, and because, because, because. Because the corners of Reki's mouth were dimpled and deep, and his lips were flushed and full, the tiniest dent in the middle of his bottom lip, and god, Langa wanted to touch his tongue to that dent. He shifted on the mattress, hot and embarrassed, and quickly fumbled to squeeze the bottle into his hands again so he could work on Reki's arms.
When he finished, Reki finally opened his eyes again, and Langa's chest felt sort of stifled and hot with how pretty Reki's eyes looked—god, did every part of Reki have to be pretty? God, Langa even liked the flip-flop tanline on Reki's feet, he was absolutely gone for him, and he couldn't think of what to say, but luckily Reki said, "Thanks, man," and grabbed the bottle, scrambling off the bed to tuck it back into the bags.
Langa tried not to stare at him, at the strong lines of his thighs below the hem of his boxers. The moment felt heavy somehow, with anticipation maybe, because what were they supposed to do now? Would Reki just want to go to sleep? And, oh, Langa squeezed his hands between his legs, because he had wanted so badly to be able to kiss, even just a little, he just wanted the feeling of Reki's warm face cradled in his palms, he just wanted the soft press of Reki's mouth against his own. He wished that he had won the competition. He imagined clearing his throat and asking Reki to kiss him, and his chest ached so much with longing that he thought he might cry. How was he supposed to lie next to Reki in the hotel bed and not kiss him? His hands already ached with the effort of holding back. Maybe Reki thought the photo booth kissing had been enough for one day, but maybe he would agree to just one more kiss, just a quick one, because Langa's chest was starting to burn with how much he wanted it, please just one kiss, please.
Reki turned around, kicking the bags up against the TV stand. "What d'you wanna do now?"
Langa swallowed, hoping his face didn't betray how much he wanted to say, come here, please, come here and put your arms around me and let me kiss your mouth, please just once. "Did you really want to order room service?" Langa asked, and Reki made a face, scratching at his elbow.
"I don't know," he said. "I said that because I—ugh. Ugh, I don't know! I thought maybe it would be romantic, y'know? Like isn't that what you're supposed to do when you're at a hotel with somebody, like, order fancy food and champagne and eat it in bed?"
"We're too young to order champagne," said Langa, who had no idea how much that would even cost, probably way too much for them, and Reki made another face.
"I know that!" he said. "Ugh. See? My romantic plan is falling apart, and it was probably crap to begin with anyway." He slumped back down on the bed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling.
"It wasn't crap," Langa tried, and Reki glanced at him, poking his tongue in between his teeth again, and Langa's stomach squirmed as he tried not to look.
"Well," said Reki, and then he sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck, straightening his shoulders. "What do you think...I mean, what do you think would be, like, the romantic thing to do?"
Langa's stomach squirmed again, and he pressed his hands even more tightly between his legs. God. Why was Reki asking that? What would he say if Langa said kissing? Technically that would be the most romantic thing to do, right, touch each other's flushed faces and kiss until they couldn't breathe, until they toppled onto the comforter together, and god, what if Reki wanted Langa to say that?
It was too much to think about—that Reki might like the kissing, that he might want it, too. Langa swallowed. "You mean like...if you were with a girl?"
Reki's cheeks scrunched up. "I—I guess?"
Langa's heart was pounding in his chest, in the flush on his cheeks. What if he...what if he asked for what he really wanted? The worst Reki could do was laugh awkwardly and shove at his shoulders, and then Langa could always play it off like he just meant it hypothetically, even though he knew how much his stomach would burn with the humiliation of being rejected. His tongue was so clumsy he thought he would never be able to say it, but then his mouth was opening and he heard himself say, "Maybe she would want to...to sit in your lap?"
Reki blinked, his eyes going big, and for a moment he just looked at Langa, taking several deep breaths as Langa squeezed his palms together, his neck burning, thinking god please don't laugh, please, please just let me sit in your lap, please I just want you to hold me. Reki swallowed.
"You wanna—" He seemed to be having a hard time working his mouth around the words. "I mean, you'd try that?"
Langa nodded, the flush rising on his face, and he tried to keep his voice level when he said, "Can I? I mean—" and, god, his voice cracked, and he winced, flushing even hotter. "I mean, should—should I?"
Reki's eyes were still huge. Maybe nobody had ever sat in his lap before, and Langa swallowed heavily, because of course nobody ever had. Langa wanted to, very badly. "Okay," said Reki, and his voice cracked, too, and Langa had to rub his hands against his shorts, because they were so sweaty, and Reki's face was so flushed with color and it was so hard not to think that maybe he wanted this, too, maybe he wanted to hold Langa around the waist and bury his face in Langa's neck, breathing him in, and god, god, god.
Langa cleared his throat. "Maybe you should—sit against the pillows?"
Reki glanced at the top of the bed, where nearly a dozen fluffy pillows were piled against the headboard, and then he nodded, scrambling quickly across the mattress. His t-shirt slipped down over his collarbones again, and when he settled against the pillows, his hair fluffy around his face, he looked so good that Langa had to swallow again. God. It should be illegal for somebody to look the way Reki did, skin raw and bright and eyebrows wild, his hands twitching against the comforter, and to be so unaware of it. Reki looked at him, flushed and expectantly and a bit nervous, as if he had no idea how badly Langa wanted to bury his face in Reki's chest and hold onto him forever, and Langa quickly shuffled across the mattress to kneel in front of him.
God. He glanced down at Reki's thighs, pale and scraped up above the tanline around his knees, and then hastily looked at his face. Was Reki really going to allow Langa to be so—so close to him? They would be so much closer than ever before. But Reki reached out his hands, and Langa's heart thumped, and carefully he swung one leg over Reki's knees and settled heavily on top of his thighs.
Langa nearly whimpered when Reki's arms wrapped around his waist, pulling just the smallest bit closer. God—god, it felt so much better than he had ever imagined, the firmness of Reki's legs underneath him, the warmth of Reki's chest only a breath away from his own, the way Langa's knees were squished between pillows and Reki's hips. They were pressed together in so many places, and Langa wanted to cuddle even closer, but he swallowed, pressing his hands to the front of Reki's chest so that he could feel Reki's heartbeat. Reki's t-shirt was soft, and his stomach jumped a little, against Langa's body, and Langa tried to breathe, but he couldn't, because his heart was thundering too loudly, and his face was so flushed and warm and god, god his own shirt was so tight around his chest.
"What—" Reki cleared his throat, sort of strangled. His hands tightened around Langa's waist, and Langa managed not to whimper. "What now?"
"Maybe," Langa tried, with no real idea where he was going with the thought, except that god he wanted to kiss Reki's face, his adorable red cheeks, and maybe his sweet peeling nose or god, his mouth, he wanted to kiss flush against Reki's mouth just to hear the soft, muffled sound Reki might make, he wanted Reki to cuddle his face into Langa's shoulder, warm and blushing. And then he was thinking about Reki blushing and he had another idea, an even better idea and before he could stop himself the words were tumbling out. "Maybe I could say— nice things about you."
Reki stared up at him, his mouth parted just the smallest bit, and Langa could feel his chest rising and falling heavily. "Nice things like—like what?"
God, there were so many, and Langa took a deep breath, bracing his hands against Reki's chest, feeling the fabric rumbling under his palms. Reki's eyes were so big, and Langa wanted to say that the way Reki's eyes shone golden in the sunlight and melted into brown at nighttime was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, but then his eyes dropped to Reki's mouth, the way his tongue pushed against his bottom lips and Langa's stomach went hot, because, oh, god, would he finally be allowed to say it? He had thought about Reki's mouth for months, even before he had gotten the chance to kiss it, and now, god, he melted every time he dreamed about kissing it again, and his voice tripped over itself to say, "Maybe, ah—that you have a pretty mouth?"
Reki's breathing was labored against him, his neck stained red. "Really?" he asked, and his voice cracked, and Langa nodded, he nodded because god he wanted so badly for Reki to believe it, that he was beautiful, that he had the sweetest mouth in the world, that it made the most beautiful sounds and sang so wonderfully and talked in the most perfectly scratchy voice and god, Langa could stare at it forever and die happily. Reki reached for his own face, almost unconsciously, and his fingers brushed the dry skin of his mouth, as if he had never thought about it before, and Langa tried not to squirm in his lap because suddenly he wanted to touch Reki's mouth, too, more than anything.
"It's nice," Langa managed, and Reki swallowed.
"Yours—too," he said, his voice hoarse and strangled, and then, god, then he reached up and touched Langa's mouth, too, and Langa parted his lips instinctively, trying not to whimper. The pads of Reki's fingers felt so good, just the right amount of pressure, and Langa wanted to kiss them clumsily, he wanted to kiss Reki. He was breathing so heavily, and he could feel that Reki was, too, and god, god Langa needed to kiss him or he was pretty sure he was going to die.
And then Reki mumbled, "And—and we should kiss?" and Langa's chest throbbed hard against his ribs.
He was nodding, so fast, before he could even realize it. "Yeah," he said, his heart pounding yes yes please yes I love you, "Yeah, if you—if you want to."
Reki's arms tightened around his waist, and Langa's breath stuck in his throat, his chest burning, at the way Reki's eyes were glued to his mouth. "I want to," Reki said, and his voice cracked on the words, and he let his hand fall away from Langa's mouth, and Langa nearly whined at the loss of touch before Reki surged up and their noses bumped, clumsy, Reki's mouth missing his and kissing the corner of his lips instead.
Langa squeezed his eyes closed. It made his stomach all squirmy and hot, Reki missing his mouth, like he was so eager and, and, and god Langa wanted to kiss him so much, so they fumbled against each other and finally, finally their lips found each other and Reki groaned, muffled, against him and pulled Langa even closer.
Langa's hands scrabbled at Reki's shoulders, trying to hold on, trying to hold himself together enough to kiss back because, because god, Reki's mouth was so warm, and he felt so good, and Langa's head was going fuzzy with the way Reki tilted his head and pressed in like he couldn't get enough, but before his mind completely dissolved, Langa remembered the dent in Reki's bottom lip that he had wanted so badly to kiss. He pulled away just a little, breathing hard, and Reki gave a muffled groan, trying to chase his mouth.
Langa's chest stuttered, because god, Reki's eyes were heavy-lidded and he looked so flushed all the way down to his loose collar, god, he looked so pretty, so soft and warm and good.
"Langa," Reki said, half a groan and half a whine, and Langa's heart stuttered again, because of the way Reki kept trying to chase his mouth, his hands pressing flat against Langa's back to try and haul him in. With some difficulty Langa managed to get his hand to Reki's chin, touching his thumb to the center of Reki's bottom lip, and Reki stopped squirming immediately, his eyes blown wide, his mouth parting easily, and Langa swallowed hard. Reki's mouth was softer, now, from the kissing, and Langa could feel the tiny dent under his thumb and he thought he was going to cry, god, Reki was going to be the death of him.
"Sorry," Langa mumbled, even though he wasn't really sorry, pulling away had been worth it to see Reki's wild eyes, Reki's hair so messy around his face, Reki's cheeks stained so red it was like the color would never fade away. Langa leaned in again, and immediately Reki surged up again, pressing their mouths together, and Langa whimpered at the way Reki touched his tongue to Langa's lips, even though Langa had been about to lick at that dent the way he had wanted to earlier, and, and, and, god. He whined into Reki's mouth when Reki tilted their heads, sliding his tongue over Langa's bottom lip, and Langa's heart was pounding so hard against his chest that it hurt, but he didn't want to stop, god, he didn't want to stop for anything.
He could feel Reki panting against him, his arms snug around Langa's waist, and god Langa felt so good and held and safe, like nothing could ever hurt him as long as he was perched in Reki's lap, making out with him until their mouths were sore. He clung tightly to Reki's shoulders, and when Reki shifted against him, his t-shirt slipped down his arm and Langa nearly choked when his hand pressed to the warm skin there, where Reki's sleeve should be, where Langa had never touched him before, and god, god.
He didn't mean to, but he bumped his teeth against Reki's mouth, and Reki made this rasping sound against him, his hands fumbling on Langa's waist. Langa managed to pull away, gasping against Reki's mouth so he could say, "You—do you like—"
Reki groaned, embarrassed, and Langa swallowed, kissing his mouth again, but he sort of wanted to know about the teeth thing, so maybe he could try more, so he made himself pull away again, ignoring Reki's whine.
"Can I do it again?" he asked, and Reki screwed up his eyes, nodding, his face stained so red and god Langa was going to lose his mind. He squeezed his own eyes shut as he ducked down again, pressing his teeth gently to Reki's bottom lip, and Reki made the rasping sound again. Langa pressed his fingers into Reki's shoulders, holding on for dear life because god Jesus fuck, and then tugged on his lip with his teeth, as carefully as he could and the sound Reki made, god it made Langa feel like his body was on fire.
He let go, kissing the spot, soothing it with his tongue, and Reki's chest was heaving, and god, he must like this, right? The kissing. He must like it, maybe even as much as Langa did, and the thought made Langa's head spin, and he tilted his head and kissed Reki deeply. There was something swelling in his chest again. Reki had trusted him, Reki had let him try something new even though it embarrassed him, Reki was allowing Langa to be the first person to try all these things with him, and he was holding onto Langa so tightly, keeping him close, and Langa pressed their chests together for a moment, as if maybe all the feelings in his heart could bleed directly into Reki's, no words needed.
Finally Reki fell back against the pillows, panting, his hair all over the place, squeezing Langa's waist tightly through his thin t-shirt. "God," Reki rasped, eyes still screwed up. "Of course you're good at—"
Langa flushed hot, even though Reki mumbled the end of the sentence too incoherently to understand, and he reached up to move Reki's hair off his face. God, Reki's skin was hot to the touch, almost feverish, and Langa should probably climb off him, but he didn't want to, he wanted to fall asleep on top of Reki, their bodies snuggled together, and he swallowed hard. Reki lifted his head, looking sort of winded, flushed to the tips of his ears, and leaned in to kiss carefully at Langa's mouth again.
Langa let his eyes sink closed, breathing out, reveling in the softness of Reki's lips, the way he squeezed Langa's sides. God. He was so gentle, even after all of that, and he smelled so good, clean and warm like the hotel shower, and just a little sweaty. Langa wanted to breathe him in forever.
"D'you think this is romantic enough?" Reki mumbled against his mouth, his lips so soft that Langa could cry, and Langa nodded, the feeling swelling up in his chest again, in his throat.
"It's perfect," he said, and Reki made a sound against him, pressing his fingers into Langa's sides, as if his palms would burn right through the fabric, hot against Langa's bare skin.
"M'glad," he said, and kissed Langa again, and Langa felt like he was glowing with how perfect it had been, god, with how perfect Reki was. Reki's head fell back against the pillows again, and for a moment he just gazed up at Langa, something like wonder on his face, his hands cupping Langa's waist gently, and Langa swallowed, the shyness creeping in again, because what if he looked silly, sitting on Reki's lap? They were both so big, and Langa was at least a couple inches taller than him, but Reki just smiled, sort of soft, and Langa's heart squeezed in his chest. "Ah," Reki said, and then laughed a little. "Man, I feel like I'm overheating."
"Oh," said Langa, flushing, and hastily he scrambled off Reki's lap so that Reki could sit up. His chest ached a little, but he also felt sort of hopeful, like maybe they could do that again sometime. Reki hadn't minded, had he? He had seemed to like it, sort of, Langa sitting in his lap, Langa kissing him, even if it was just pretend, but maybe it wasn't all pretend, maybe there was some part of Reki that liked—
"Did we bring any water?" Reki asked, and Langa tried to shake himself back to reality, back to the yellow light of the hotel room.
"Ah—" He glanced at their beach bags. "I think we drank it all. But there's probably an ice machine in the building? And we could just get water from the tap."
Reki nodded, rubbing at his flushed face, and god, Langa's heart throbbed at how cute he looked, so warm and flustered just from kissing Langa. Together they slid off the bed and glanced around for their shoes, before Reki said, "Let's just go barefoot, who's gonna catch us?"
Langa nodded, his chest still swollen with how much he loved him, god he loved him, even though his mom would scold them so much if she caught Langa wandering around a hotel with no shoes on. They found the ice bucket underneath the night stand and crept out of their room carefully, and Langa felt warm all over when he saw the Do Not Disturb sign hanging from their door handle. Had Reki put it there while he was in the shower? Langa definitely hadn't.
"C'mon," said Reki, looping their fingers together, and something tight in Langa's chest relaxed when their palms pressed together. Safe, he thought, and he padded down the hall alongside Reki, each of them searching for a sign for the ice.
There were more people in the halls now, checking into different rooms,and a group of young kids ran by in swimsuits, but Langa stuck close to Reki and nobody tried to separate them. They found the ice machine at the end of a brightly-lit hallway, and Langa stood behind Reki as Reki tried to get it to work, muttering quietly to himself. Langa's heart was so full, and he was already thinking about turning off the lights and burying themselves in blankets when they got back to the room, maybe kissing a little more in the dark. Langa leaned against Reki's back, pressing his cheek to his hair, his arms loose around Reki's waist, and Reki made the softest sound, shuffling against him, and Langa closed his eyes, content and happy and
and
and then, above the chattering of vacationers in the hallway behind them, he heard a voice calling out, a single word that made his whole body go stiff—
"Langa?"