Archive of Our Own

After graduating, moving to Naha made many things possible. It offered little perks: the possibility to hop on to monorail and travel as far as you liked; strolling around narrow alleys without the risk to stumble upon someone you knew; or if you felt experimental, you could spend your money in a hedgehog café in the middle of the night. Worth it—no one could claim hedgehogs weren’t cute.

But there still is a major flaw: the expenses in the capital are huge compared to the little town of Uruma. Fortunately, there’s a solution: to split the costs with a roommate.

Not with any random roommate—your best friend.

On a sunny Friday afternoon, Reki is on his way from work to their apartment—his and Langa’s apartment. Even though by Western standards it’s not any better than a storage room, it’s special to share your everyday life with someone you care deeply about.

Emphasis on deeply.

Reki doesn’t want to think about it too much if it’s normal to know all the little quirks of your friend; to be able to locate all his birthmarks and scars on his body; name his favorite foods by heart; and remind him of the dentist appointments he always forgets.

Without a reference, Reki pretends everyone is like them and there’s nothing unusual in his and Langa’s friendship.

Before his mind starts racing too much, Reki steps into a packed bus. On the first bench, sits an old lady. Because of a little bump the bus makes, Reki almost falls on her. The lady glares under her grey eyelashes. With a deep bow, Reki mumbles apologies.

He proceeds and finally finds a free place. It’s next to a boy who is immersed in playing something colorful, involving puzzles and cats, on his phone.

Reki smiles to himself when he sits down. The boy resembles awfully lot a snarky young skater he knows.

Even though Valentine’s Day isn’t a Japanese thing, the idea of remembering someone special has always fascinated Reki. Still, he hasn’t come up with a gift for Langa. Not that friends normally even exchanged presents and he doesn’t know if Langa would even give a crap—it’s Reki’s stubborn mind that has decided he has to remember him somehow.

Reki opens his phone for ideas. A trip to an onsen, jewelry, happy couples posing in pictures taken from Shutterstock—basic stuff. He keeps browsing until something that gives his cheeks a nice pink tint appears:

“Surprise your loved one with a unique present this year! The comfortable satin of this lingerie pleases your partner and you! Multiple color choices, order now!”

In record time, Reki shuts the phone down and shoves it back into his pocket. He glances next to him and sighs silently in relief: the teenager still tries to solve an impossible Tetris with cats. Reki slumps in his chair. He shakes his head. Lingerie. Jesus. What to give to your best friend who isn’t your…

Boyfriend. Giving a gift seems much easier to your loved one than to your friend.

On a seat in front of him, a discussion starts.

“Did you hear about this new restaurant nearby Shuri Castle?” a woman says to a man next to her.

This catches Reki’s ears. He leans closer but tries to crouch. He isn’t a stalker, for heaven’s sake.

“Dragon Palace?” the man asks.

“Yes, that!” The woman claps her hands together, leans closer to the man. It feels intimate, but Reki can’t resist listening to further.

“They are having a Valentine’s special tonight,” she says with a low voice. “What do you say if we—”

“Hey, e-excuse me!” Reki exclaims too loud, his mouth acting before his rational thinking has a chance to kick in.

The couple turns. The woman furrows her brow which makes her eyes, framed with heavy eyeliner, mean. She resembles a Disney villain.

Shit.

Grown up in this culture, Reki knows it’s not so polite to start talking to random people on a bus—but it’s an urgency. He averts his gaze. “S-sorry, but I happened to hear about some restaurant. Do you… have an address for this place you talked about?”

“You have a phone for that,” the woman bombs back. She turns around, her ponytail swaying. The couple falls silent.

Before Reki starts feeling too bad for interrupting, he types “Dragon Palace, Naha” in the search engine. A fancy website, that doesn’t properly open on mobile, flickers.

Valentine’s special: a three-course meal for two 1000 yen, only tonight!

Inside Reki’s head, a lamp illuminates. Why didn’t he think about this earlier—it’s a brilliant idea.

In the excitement, Reki almost misses his stop. Just before he sees the familiar concrete buildings, he hits the stop button.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” he exclaims to the bus driver. The man in his 50s doesn’t answer, only raises an eyebrow. Perhaps he thinks that modern youth like to consume something else than mere green tea nowadays.

Reki doesn’t mind though. He bounces and whistles a cheerful melody to himself.

But after the five-minute walk, when he is at the door of their apartment building, overthinking kicks in. Yeah, it might be a good idea, but how is he going to suggest this? What if Langa isn’t hungry? Well, to a guy who eats like a whole battalion, that’s out of the question. But… is he even free tonight?

Reki inserts the key to the lock and halts when something nasty appears into his mind:

What if he has a date he hasn’t told anything about?

“Oh, that’s such a cool idea, but I’m already going with [insert an awesome name here who definitely isn’t Reki]. He’s such a nice lad, you guys have to meet someday! He skates too!”

Shivers run down to Reki’s spine. Langa seeing someone... they share so many things that Reki would be the first to know if he had found someone special. Right…?

A knot in Reki’s stomach claims otherwise though: You don’t spend 24 hours with him. How could you possibly know?

Plus, his love life isn’t your business. Only roommates, remember?

Only roommates…

Before this escalates and he chickens out, Reki opens the door. He leaps the stairs. In front of a familiar door, a shining plaque stands out:

Hasegawa & Kyan.

Reki can’t help but smile. He still remembers the day when they admired that name tag of their new apartment— their first apartment. A new, independent life awaited them. Even though they tried so hard to remain cool, Masae and Nanako were in tears that day.

Reki was too—and until this day, he doesn’t know how he pretended he was okay.

“I’m home!” Reki calls when he steps in. He tosses his backpack on a chair. An unorganized set of shoes welcomes him, two different sizes.

A familiar head peeks from the living room. “Oh hi,” Langa says and stands up. “How was work?”

“Same as usual. Customers in supermarkets tend to ask questions so dumb you can’t even imagine.” Reki looks at himself in the mirror, adjusts his crooked headband. “At least, I saw a skater guy today. My boss didn’t notice that we chatted for 45 minutes. The best part of my day. Thank God it’s weekend!”

Blue locks block Langa’s eyes. He blows them away and chuckles. “I can only imagine.”

Reki hates it how his stomach does a kooky flip when he sees Langa so clear now. On purpose or not, Langa has grown his hair longer—Reki doesn’t complain at all. In weak moments, Reki has imagined brushing that incredibly soft-looking hair and making braids while sipping tea on a cozy afternoon.

Sigh. That’s definitely not a roommate thing—but Reki still has his own inner sanctuary where he lets his imagination run free.

And whether he admits it or not, Langa has a lifetime platinum membership to that place.

The tv roars in the living room. Reki and Langa stand in the entryway. Both look like they are about to say something.

Reki scratches the back of his neck. “So…”

His head cocked to the side, Langa’s trademark demure smile breaks on his features. “Yes?”

Why is this so difficult now? On the bus, it sounded like a good idea, but Reki starts doubting himself. “Umm, do you have anything planned for… tonight?” He fumbles with the hem of his shirt, twirling loose threads around his fingers. “You know it’s… Valentine’s and all…”

Langa remains quiet. He glances at the little table in the living room where a bag of potato chips calls him. All dressed flavor—Langa’s favorite he had to order all the way from Canada. A bottle of cold green tea lies next to the bag. “Nothing really besides checking out this new action movie.” He turns back to Reki. “Did you have something in mind?”

Under that gaze, Reki feels like he could melt into a wet puddle and disappear from this existence. He almost wants to say “never mind”. A mindless movie isn’t a bad idea—but they do it almost every evening, so he has to come up with something new.

It’s a special day, after all.

Reki still twirls the loose threads when the suggestion blurts out: “If you don’t have anything in mind how about… checking out a new restaurant with me?” He swallows. “They have a Valentine’s Day special. A three-course meal only for 1000 yen.”

“Wait.” Langa’s eyes turn wide, hungry. Like in some cheesy anime, little stars twinkle around him. “Did you say… 1000 yen?”

With some magic force, Reki forces to look Langa in the eyes. He nods. “I was thinking I could… you know, offer you a meal as my… Valentine’s present.”

At that second when Langa leaps to the living room, the noise of the tv ends. He comes back with his bag and starts lacing his shoes with trembling hands. “It must be crowded tonight then.” He looks up, a genuine, child-like grin on his features. “Let’s go!”

Reki exhales. Why was he so nervous in the first place? The idea seemed to sink in. He hopes the place is decent. Fortunately, Langa isn’t difficult to please when it comes to food.

Even though there’s a bus stop right in front of their apartment complex, they decide to take a stroll. The place is less than 30 minutes away anyway. Good idea to have some fresh air before they’re going to be at a small table, just the two of them, laughing and looking each other in the eyes, and…

Despite the heat, Reki shivers. He needs to shove those thoughts off or the evening is going to be hellish.

It’s difficult though when Langa walks next to him, hands in his pockets, a wide grin sporting on his features—so close their sides almost touch.

Even though Reki isn’t as lousy at navigating as his friend, they turn from the wrong alleys at least three times. A couple passes them and Reki asks for help. In no time, they arrive in front of heavy doors. Two big shisha figures along with red paper lanterns, that have a kanji of a “dragon”, greet them.

“Dragon Palace,” Langa reads out loud and turns to Reki. “Is this the place?”

“Yeah.”

They step in. Langa was right: the place is packed. A quick scan reveals most of the customers are families or couples. Reki tries to ignore that.

Remember: only roommates…

“WELCOME!” an eager waitress greets them behind a counter. A little statue of a cat whose paw moves up and down continues its never-ending journey when she gestures them to the last free place.

In no time, two glasses of sparkling water find their way to their table. Reki thinks he is discreet when he takes a selfish moment to look at his friend over his shield, the glass. Unfortunately, Langa has the same idea. Their eyes lock. Something in Reki’s stomach clenches before Langa rolls his eyes, at the same time looking ridiculous and gorgeous—something only Langa can do.

They both explode into laughter—so badly that sparkling water burns Reki’s nose. What a nice start. When he accidentally snorts, warmth creeps on Reki’s cheeks. His manners are way too loud for the sophisticated ambient of this place.

Langa props on his elbow, eyes dreamy. “Has anyone ever told you how cute you are?”

The statement is so genuine it makes Reki shiver. He is close to choking. At least, he doesn’t drink anymore. With a wave of his hand, Reki tries to lighten the situation, ignores the little jumps his heart makes when he thinks about that word: cute. Did he just call me that? He must be joking. “Ah… Did I ever tell you what nickname the girls in our class gave me in elementary school?”

Langa raises an eyebrow, shifts a bit.

“‘The pink piglet’. They said I was always blushing and I was too loud, like a pig.” Reki swallows. “Not so… appealing for their taste.”

Langa huffs—in Reki’s opinion, way too dramatically—and leans back in his chair. He crosses his arms. The eye contact doesn’t drop. “I strongly disagree,” he says, “because, in my eyes, you’re very appealing.”

When will this torment end? Was there something questionable in the water or what on earth…? Reki wants to say something diminishing about himself, but instead, he blurts out, “Thanks. Well, umm, you… too.”

Reki freezes. Wait.

Did I just call him… appealing?

…out loud?

“You know… all those admirers in our school and S can’t be wrong, heh,” Reki corrects way too late.

Langa blinks, placing his hand on his chest with a little gasp. Reki doesn’t get why Langa looks like that. He was the “snow prince” in their high school, he must be used to the constant stream of compliments, so why does he look so flustered?

Langa clears his throat and leans closer. “Actually… I… have something I’d like to tell you.”

“Oh,” is the only thing Reki can say to his friend’s unusually official tone. He forces a smile. “Whatever it is, spill the beans.”

Langa turns to look away, tapping his long fingers on the table. He licks his lips. His mouth opens and closes a couple of times. “I’m not sure how to… say this…”

Reki watches every move, every detail with such precision. Scared to miss something crucial, Reki leans closer. At the next table, a child bellows, and the parents hush him. Langa nor Reki cares though—there are more important matters.

Oh no. Reki travels to his earlier thoughts and he is now convinced that…

The vulnerability in Langa’s gaze makes Reki gasp unintentionally. Before he realizes it, he puts his hand on Langa’s knuckle. It’s surprisingly cold. “You know… you can always tell me anything.”

Langa nods but doesn’t withdraw from the touch. He exhales. “Okay. Reki, I, umm… I’ve been thinking about some things and I need to… need to tell you that—”

“Sorry for the waiting!”

The startled boys turn to look. As if they had done something illegal, they withdrew their hands into their laps.

Oh yes, a waitress. They still are in a restaurant—a public place. Right. Of course.

They lean back in their chairs—the magic shattered as quickly as it emerged. Reki curses to himself mentally. When they get home, he must ask what was on Langa’s mind. At the same time, he wants to know and wants to pretend the former incident never happened.

Reki swallows a lump in his throat. Langa is seeing somebody. It must be it. What if he wants to move away?

Jesus, he must have found someone and I held his hand.

On a red and white checked cotton table runner, the waitress places a candle. Some of the stearine spills. Immediately, it hardens into lumps.

Similar ones Reki has in his throat now when he keeps overanalyzing.

Like a gargoyle statue, the waitress stands still. A solid smile sports on her face. In turns, she looks at Reki and Langa, squeezing the menus in her arms. A dreamy sigh escapes.

Reki is about to ask if they did something inappropriate before the waitress babbles:

“Ah, always such a joy to see young people blossoming together.” She blinks under thick, fake eyelashes. “I’m happy to see you have chosen our restaurant for your date!” Her voice is high-pitched, screeching like someone announced they are getting married.

A rush of horror climbs up inside Reki’s body. Suddenly, he feels as hot and fluid as the stearine in the candle. “Wait umm…” Two sets of eyes stare at him. Reki chuckles, but it’s strained, stuck in his throat. “I-I’m sorry, but you must have been mistaken.” He coughs. “We aren’t dating. We don’t like each other that way. We are only… roommates.”

It needed to be corrected—if Langa really is seeing somebody, Reki doesn’t want to raise questions. It hurts, but it’s the best solution now.

In silence, Langa leans back in his chair. He doesn’t correct anything: he doesn’t nod and laugh: “Yeah, that’s correct, we aren’t like that. How silly!”

That bothers Reki—it’s almost like Langa was… hurt by his words for some reason.

A minuscule moment of pure awkwardness follows. The face of the waitress resembles a ripe strawberry. “Ahh, s-sorry, I was mistaken… It’s Valentine’s Day, so I assumed… I shouldn’t have.” She tosses two menus in front of them. “Well, anyway, take your time to order. Sorry again!”

Kanjis, hiraganas, and katakanas could be replaced with the Cyrillic alphabet and Reki wouldn’t notice any difference. The hunger that tickled his stomach earlier has vanished into thin air. Over the menu, he peeks at Langa. With a little lopsided smile and a slumped posture, he looks so… melancholic. Reki is tempted to ask what Langa had on mind earlier but he doesn’t dare to. Instead, Reki takes a deep breath, forcing a sunshine smile on his face.

Yet the sunbeams have extinguished. What Reki now has are questions and concerns: What did he do wrong?

Reki claps his hands which makes Langa flinch. “So, what do you want to eat? The offer still is valid, it’s on me tonight!”

Langa puts the menu back on the table. He shrugs. “I’m fine with whatever you’re going to take.”

Before Reki can say something back, the waitress is again next to them. “So, did you two gentlemen decide?” she chirps with a fake customer-service voice.

Reki orders the first meal set he sees: miso soup, various tempura, and zenzai for dessert.

Even though the place is packed, the food comes quickly. It looks delicious. Sadly, it’s impossible to enjoy it tonight. It’s impossible because Langa doesn’t say a damn thing—doesn’t comment anything on the food.

This has never happened before—normally, he’d at least hum contently and praise anything he stuffed into his mouth.

The last shrimp tempura lies on the plate. Reki hesitates, chopsticks in his hand. When they share a meal, there’s a silent rule: Langa can always have the last piece, no matter what.

This time though, Langa sets his chopsticks aside and gestures at the plate. “You can have it. I’m not hungry.”

Reki’s eyes widen. It’s like Langa dropped he suffers from a terminal illness. “Y-you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Reki grabs the last piece. He doesn’t pay attention when he bites the perfectly crisp dough and reveals the subtle taste of the shrimp.

This was a bad idea—and what’s even worse is that Reki doesn’t have the slightest clue, why.

They silently decide to skip the dessert. The waitress is there in no time and asks about the food. Langa doesn’t say anything, Reki flashes a smile but doesn’t register what he answers. He pays for them and on their way they are. On any other night, he’d suggest they’d go somewhere to continue the evening—see a gig or similar—but tonight, they go straight home.

The usual atmosphere isn’t there. Reki fumbles the light switch. Langa still doesn’t say anything when the lights flicker on—he just kicks off his shoes.

Reki wants to say something, but he doesn’t know, what. He doesn’t know anything anymore. It’s not even that late, but they still go to sleep with only little mumbles resembling “goodnight”.

When he’s finally in his bed, thoughts swirl inside Reki’s head. Like butterflies who don’t know their destination, they collide with each other, can’t escape from their prison. Reki keeps shifting. The bedsheets gluing to his back disgust him.

Reki picks up his phone. He has tried to get sleep for an hour already. It’s going nowhere.

With an annoyed grunt, he decides it’s enough—he’s up. Maybe a glass of water and a skating video would help sleep come to him later.

Thank God, it’s Saturday tomorrow and he doesn’t have to wake up at 6 AM.

Tiptoeing to the living room, Reki halts. From a tiny distance, he sees a silhouette in front of a window. Even though he must feel Reki’s presence, his gaze doesn’t move.

Reki takes a step closer. This makes Langa turn. They stare at each other—two aliens who have dropped from some unknown planets to this place.

“Oh.” Reki stands still, one arm holding the other at the elbow. “You’re… awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Langa deadpans, tone undecipherable.

The atmosphere is pregnant with questions. Why is Langa still like that? No matter what, he usually sleeps like a baby. Was there something bad in the food?

Or is Reki only unnecessarily paranoid? Nothing new in this household.

Reki takes a tentative step towards the kitchenette, but something distances him again from that glass of water.

“Have you ever thought about what the waitress said?” Langa asks. “About… dating?”

Boom. That was an unexpected bomb. Maybe a bug flew into Reki’s ear because he must have misheard.

D-A-T-I-N-G. Langa pronounced that word with such precision it must be important.

“E-excuse me?” Reki feels like a stupid parrot at a zoo who only knows simple phrases and swear words.

Langa’s back is still turned. The silhouette is a tad disturbing: tall, toned, broad; perfect in every way.

Of course, Reki has known these facts since they met, but something tonight makes them stand out; makes them more visceral. As if he sees them the first time, in a new light.

He is so handsome it hurts. Especially when he is sad.

“Do you ever wish you’d date someone you liked?” Langa repeats. His tone doesn’t falter the slightest—he could have asked “What’s for dinner?” with no difference.

Reki averts his gaze to the floor. He clenches his hands into fists, his head throbbing with upcoming pain.

In his heart, Reki knows the answer: dating doesn’t sound bad. Quite a pleasant idea, actually.

Reki would lie if he claimed that their disastrous visit to that new restaurant didn’t feel like a date at all. So, was it disgusting, wrong somehow? Absolutely not. Would Reki do it again, but with the official date label? With Langa, his best friend, roommate, his favorite person on this planet?

That’s more complicated.

With a hefty sigh, Langa keeps staring at the window. Reki is sure his dumbness wears his friend’s patience out.

Suddenly, Reki’s throat feels like P40 grit sandpaper. He still can’t command his legs to move—it might be a good idea to call it a night and retreat. Tomorrow is a new day. Maybe magically, all the worries would be solved.

Reki opens his mouth to say something, but what he sees makes his insides freeze like an unexpected Okinawan winter. Langa’s shoulders quiver, mixed with a choked sound.

“Why am I this stupid?” he mumbles in English. “I know you don’t… think… that way, but I can’t…”

The only word Reki gets is “stupid”—that and Langa don’t fit in the same sentence.

Even though it’s awkward, Reki rushes to his friend and entwines his arms around him. “Shh, it’s okay,” he tries to soothe. “It’s okay, I’m sorry. I was a fool and made you feel bad.”

Finally, Langa turns. He buries his head into Reki’s shoulder and exhales.

They stay like that in silence for a while before Reki can’t stand all the thoughts anymore. Tears start to make their way to his eyes as well. “Hey… about what you wanted to say earlier in the restaurant… I want to say I’m… happy for you.” He gulps. “I truly am.”

If not earlier, Langa looks baffled when he raises his head.

Reki sniffles. “You know, if you’re seeing someone… it’s totally okay, I get it.” It’s much harder to force a casual tone than he thought. “I get it. It’s time to move on. I hope we could still be friends.”

Langa halts and sniffles. “Wait… what on earth are you talking about?”

“Well, you wanted to say something in the restaurant and that lady interrupted us and…” Reki inhales—he senses that nervous babbling is about to come to the surface. For a minuscule moment he ponders if he misunderstood, but his anxiety-filled mind is stubborn.

“…you thought I wanted to tell you… I’m… seeing someone?” Langa asks straightforwardly.

Reki smiles lopsidedly and nods. “Yeah. And I wanted to say it’s—”

“Reki,” Langa cuts out his words harshly. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Oh.”

“What I wanted to tell you was that… I had Valentine’s Day present for you.”

Another, higher-pitched, “oh” leaves Reki.

If Reki’s eyes aren’t betraying him, he is sure Langa’s hands have a slight tremor when he hands out something. “This is… what I wanted to give.”

Reki is so stunned he doesn’t take the gift—instead, he keeps standing, his hands pressed at his sides. In turn, he looks at Langa and the object in his hands. Reki’s stomach clenches when his fuzzy brain forms a clearer image of it: what Langa holds is a heart-shaped box.

He doesn’t dare to think what it could contain.

All the signs are there, right in front of his eyes, yet Reki’s mind refuses to believe any of this. This must be a fever dream.

Langa almost retreats before Reki yanks the gift unnecessarily harshly. “S-sorry.” He swallows. His hands sweat so excessively he is sure the box is going to drop soon, shatter into pieces.

He doesn’t want to hurt Langa anymore.

“I was planning to give you this earlier, but there wasn’t a suitable moment.” Langa’s mouth snaps shut. He looks at his hands—those sinewy hands Reki has imagined so many times on his skin. Vulnerable like this, it’s like Reki stands in front of someone unknown. This is not the same person who jumped into a beef even though he had never even seen a skateboard in real life before; or who accepted a race against the creepiest pervert of Okinawa and won.

The box burns in Reki’s hands as if Langa’s very soul is trapped inside. The bright red color mirrors what Reki’s cheeks must look like. Gently, Reki starts untying a small bow.

“Did you… make this yourself?” Reki asks.

Langa shrugs, but their eyes don’t meet. “I had some help, but yeah… I tried my best, but my crafting skills aren’t as superb as yours.”

“It’s really pretty.”

When Reki dares to open the lid he sees something glimmering inside. He takes a chain in his hand, lets his fingers slide on the pattern. When he looks down, he sees another silver necklace.

It takes a few seconds for Reki to register it: they are a matching pair, a sun and a moon.

At this point, Langa looks like he has shrunk down into a miniature collector’s figure.

Wow.Rarely, Reki is left speechless. It’s hard to imagine Langa in a jewel shop, searching for different alternatives. Did he ask for help from the shopkeeper? If so, what did he say? The necklaces aren’t random kitsch from Kokusai Dori shopping street—Langa clearly has put effort and time into choosing them.

Even the idea that Langa had thought about him makes something at the bottom of Reki’s belly dance frenetic salsa.

“Langa…,” Reki manages to say in a hoarse voice, “I…”

Langa nods, smiling lopsidedly. “There still is… something else if you look at the bottom.”

Reki raises an eyebrow before he takes another look. On the soft, black velvet, lies a folded piece of paper.

Carefully, Reki opens it. The words are shaky, but there is some serious effort in the writing.

Something must have gotten in his eyes—Reki can’t believe this. What he just read, was it really…

…a confession letter?

The paper burns Reki’s sweaty hands. By accident, it wrinkles.

“You…,” Reki stammers and looks at Langa and the letter in turns, “wrote this?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in Langa’s steely tone. “And I mean every single word.”

Wow.

Slow down.

This could be a historical moment if Reki wasn’t so shocked, his legs as wobbly as wax under the sun. This isn’t how he supposed his Valentine’s Day to go—he was so sure Langa stored words like these for someone else. For someone more clever, more handsome, more everything than dumb little Reki Kyan who no one ever considered cool.

Reki has no clue what to say—everything that comes to his mind feels so flat compared to what Langa revealed only in those couple of sentences. There’s no crash course on how to react properly. Reki senses how Langa’s eyes follow his every move. Reki folds the letter back to its place and carefully lets the two necklaces rest on top of it.

And now, to the trickiest part: the answer.

It’s obvious—Reki knows it as well as his own pockets but no coherent words come out when the moment is here. Langa has made it quite clear what his thoughts are, so what happens next is in Reki’s hands.

Langa waits, looking so adorable that Reki can’t stand it anymore. He has to do something—quickly.

The next idea that comes to Reki’s mind is the most awkward thing he has ever done. Even the thought of it makes him sweat excessively. Still, in his heart, he knows it’s the only correct reply—powerful enough in this situation.

Reki stands on his toes, meeting Langa’s eye level. He is sure he will pass out if he sinks into those eyes for too long, so Reki places his hand on Langa’s hot cheek. Their breaths hitch.

How is this supposed to be done correctly? Reki has no clue. Damn, it always looks so easy in movies. Instead of trying to browse some mental guidebook on kissing, Reki lets his unconscious mind do the magic.

He leans closer and it doesn’t take long for their lips to lock. It’s only a little brush but they both let a noise that resembles a surprised gasp. Reki tries to be as confident as he can, wants to cue Langa in: he places his hand on the back of Langa’s neck, pulling him closer.

Now, he senses Langa’s lips properly. God, I never realized before how good he smells. Such a nice little detail—Reki hopes it isn’t going to be the last. And that taste, so exquisite… does this mean he is hooked now?

With blurred minds, they retreat. Reki doesn’t dare to open his eyes for a while. When he does that though, he sees a very hazy-looking Langa whose cheeks are flustered in various shades of magenta.

Reki always appreciates quality pieces of art, but that image beats everything—and then a thought appears:

That was way too good. I want to do that again.

At the same time, he knows he has to wait. Not all the goodies can be consumed immediately. Besides, Langa looks like he has something to say.

Langa licks his lips as if he also tries to comprehend whether this is the truth or some pseudo-reality. He takes deep breaths.

“I-I was thinking,” Langa says, his voice croaky, “I’d like to see how that necklace looks on you.”

That’s a good distraction from Reki’s kissing-craving mind. “S-sure.”

In the entryway, they have a huge mirror that is perfect for an occasion like this. Reki watches when Langa’s hands do their work: a little shaky, but gentle, precise. The chain is cool against his skin.

Langa stays behind Reki. His hands rest on Reki’s shoulders, squeezing them gently. “Well, what do you… think?”

The lighting is dim but enough to see the silver and the little red jewel inside the sun. “It’s… perfect.” Reki releases a deep, slow breath he was holding all this time. “I still can’t believe you actually thought about…” He touches the necklace. “Us.”

Consciously or not, Langa massaged Reki’s shoulders during their little talk. He halts. “Okay, a little confession.” Langa chuckles. “Cherry helped me with everything. Quite a lot, to be honest.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Both break into a nervous burst of laughter. After they manage to calm down, they clear their throats and look at each other in the mirror.

“I wanted to ask help from Cherry because…” Langa hesitates, chews his lower lip. “Because you deserve only the best gifts. Not something awkward I would have come up with by myself. I knew it needed to be something special .”

Reki turns around and places his hand on Langa’s chest. “Don’t worry. As I said, it’s perfect. A surprise I’d never have imagined, so… thank you.”

Langa entwines his arms around Reki’s waist. “Thank you, Reki. For being so awesome.”

They hug for a while before Reki says, “Sorry, I was such a dumbass earlier today.” His voice is timid. “I… don’t know, I was so confused and everything and I really thought you… ah, the whole thing was so weird and then there was this creepy waitress that got me off guard.” As always when he is nervous, Reki’s mind starts going off on a tangent.

Langa lets his head rest on Reki’s shoulder. He exhales, eyes half-closed.

Reki exhales as well, lets his stiff body relax into the touch. So many thoughts swirl inside his head, but maybe now it’s finally time to let go and admit what happened.

This means that Reki has to reverse his earlier words: they aren’t roommates anymore. Hell, he doesn’t know what they are, but he prefers this.

They withdraw a little but refuse to let go completely from each other. Langa looks at Reki with such new fondness.

“I can’t blame you because yeah, you were partly correct,” Langa says with an unusually wide smile for him. “I wanted to date someone. But not just anyone.” He fumbles with Reki’s new necklace. A burst of shivering elicits that Reki doesn’t manage to inhibit.

“The only one I ever wanted…” Langa stops his hand on Reki’s chest. He savors the heartbeat. “…is here .”

Reki gasps. He can’t take it anymore: he leans in, asking for another kiss. Their lips are frantic, clumsy, but it still feels so, so good.

From now on, Reki must admit he might have a new favorite holiday.