Chapter Text
It’s impossible not to be aware of Langa Hasegawa.
Not because he tries to stand out. If anything, he barely seems to notice the attention. It just follows him anyway.
His body is lithe, all lean muscle beneath clothes that carry the unmistakable air of somewhere else. His voice is honeyed, each word softened by an accent that curls around every syllable, and his hair is a shade unlike any other in the room. With his height and effortless grace, he stands apart from everyone around him.
Since the day he transferred to Rekis small university, he’s been all anyone can talk about.
“Are you sure?”
Reki tilts his head to the side and lets his eyes slip shut. They feel heavy, sluggish beneath the haze of alcohol humming through his head. Behind his eyelids, light pulses in murky washes of color against the darkness. The music is loud enough to swallow everything else, leaving only a steady buzz ringing in his ears.
Somehow, the girl next to him manages to be heard by her friend.
"Wait, I thought he doesn't go to frat parties. How do you know?"
The voice is high, nearly as loud as the music, and reeks of alcohol. Reki winces and tilts his head further into his shoulder. How he managed to be sandwiched between these two girls, he doesn't know.
Well, maybe he does.
The other girl snorts. She sits on his left, perched steadily on the arm of the couch. When Reki had met her earlier that evening, the first thing he'd noticed was the way she balanced her weight between both legs, uncomfortable and antsy. He had wondered if she had been pulled here in the same way he had. But now that she's a few drinks in, he realizes he was wrong.
“Didn’t you see the group chat this morning? Yuki can’t stop talking about it. She’s been eyeing him since he transferred.”
The girl on his right scoffs and presses her side to Reki, “Of course she has.”
The shape of her body is one he knows well. He’s slept with her a handful of times before. In fact, he’ll probably end up sleeping with her tonight. And once again, he’ll avoid learning her name. He makes sure not to ask, and she never pushes him to know it.
He likes the darkness of her features—the way she lines her eyes in black, the way silver pins catch in her hair. He likes the way she cups his face and runs her hands over his body as if she's genuinely appreciating every part of him. If he could, he thinks he would date her.
“Can’t blame her, but I doubt she can pull him. Langa wouldn’t give her the time of day.”
Reki’s eyes peel open to glance down at his hands. The room is dark, but he watches as the liquid in his cup swirls with color. Red, blue, pink, orange, then it strobes and Reki twists his wrist. He watches it race along the rim and thinks about how much better things would be if he were skating at S right now instead.
In fact, anything would be better than third wheeling a conversation about Langa Hasegawa.
Sure, Langa is attractive. Even Reki can admit that much. He's caught himself staring more than once—they have biology together, after all. And sure, the lecture has over 100 people in it, but like he said before, it’s impossible not to be aware of Langa Hasegawa.
With pale features softened by an easy smile and a kind of effortless grace, Langa could have just about any woman he wanted. But he doesn't and, somehow, that makes him all the more desirable to them. Of course, his countless rejections do nothing to stop the rumors about his escapades in bed.
From what Rekis heard, Langa fucks like a rabbit.
He’s a man who has all the more allure because of his disinterest in relationships. For Reki, there’s something maddening about watching them gravitate toward someone who doesn’t seem to seek them out. Reki has spent the past three years doing the opposite. Over time, he’s learned exactly how to touch without pressuring for anything more. It gets him warm bodies, but never anything more.
He tries not to let it bother him.
“I heard he fucks good. I wonder if I should try my luck too.”
He definitely tries not to let it bother him that the girl he’s had a fling with for weeks wants Langa too.
He glances at her. At her dark features and cat-like eyes. Her lips are painted the same shade they were the night she'd first pressed them to his neck, trailing slow kisses down his body. He looks away from the bloody, crimson shade and a bitter swell of bile climbs his throat. It tastes like stale beer and something uglier.
Whether it's meant for himself, Langa, or her, he isn't sure.
Of course Langa would fuck good, because why wouldn't he? Reki considers himself a decent lay, but who knows how a normal guy like him would compare to a high ruling, foreign prince like Langa.
The girl touches her hand to Rekis thigh to get his attention, but then it happens — a breath catches in her throat, followed by a subtle shift beside him. Both women move at once, pulled with the quiet certainty of there he is, and Reki can’t stop himself from looking up.
And of course there he is.
The room is dark, swallowed by bodies that pulse in and out with the rhythm of the music. Every corner is occupied by drunken college students that spill into one another. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, perfume, and sweat, all of it clinging to the walls as bass rattles through the floorboards. Colored lights flicker across faces, catching on flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes before disappearing again into the darkness. The entire room feels suspended in a strange in-between. Too loud to think, too crowded to breathe, and too temporary to mean anything.
Langa is the exception. His hair is a brilliant blue that nearly blinds when lasers dance across it, and his face is difficult to make out through the crowd. Yet Reki still catches it when his brows pull together. There's a faint crease of confusion — or maybe discomfort that settles. People find him the moment he steps through the door. They gravitate toward Langa without hesitation, drunkenly leaning against his body, tugging at his arms, and pulling him toward the dance floor.
He looks overwhelmed by the attention, offering an apologetic shake of his head before accepting the red solo cup someone extends toward him. It's a quiet attempt to soften the rejection but it works, and the people part to leave him.
It's when Langa’s alone that Reki notices his eyes begin to roam. He wonders to himself why he’s even still looking at Langa.
Some sort of morbid, self-hatred fueled curiosity probably.
“He’s here.” The girl on his left breathes, sliding from the arm of the couch.
Langa’s gaze moves across the room, pausing absently on each person who acknowledges him. He offers them a small, close-lipped smile.
The girl with red lipstick claps a hand on Reki’s shoulder. He startles, and feels beer wet his thigh as it splashes from his cup. He moves to turn towards her, but before he can get out a what the fuck? he locks eyes with Langa across the house.
There's something magnetic to the pull of his gaze, something that makes Reki's blood burn hot and cold, fast and slow all at once. Instead of a tight lipped smile from across the living room, Langa glances away. His eyes dart past Reki and land on the woman to his side. Reki feels his blood settle on a heated simmer now. It’s hot and oily, serpentine in the way it slithers down his spine and fills his veins.
Who does this guy think he is?
“He’s looking,” Her fingers tighten on Reki’s shoulder, “Reki Reki,” she shakes him excitedly, “Get him to come over.”
Seriously?
Reki glances at her and watches a deep blush bloom across her cheeks. She hadn’t been this red, even when his tongue had drug down her thighs. Even when he had bit into her skin and watched her squirm. He can’t even remember her name and doesn’t care to, but for some reason, her reaction bothers him.
“What do you want me to do?” His voice is swallowed by the music almost immediately. It doesn’t seem to matter though, because her friend turns towards them and mouths: he’s coming.
These girls seriously act like he's a prince or something.
Against his will, Reki finds his eyes sliding up again. Sure enough, Langa moves through the throng of bodies towards them. He seems uncomfortable beneath the press of skin and noise, shifting whenever someone brushes him. Reki finds his gaze peeling back each layer of Langa in a futile, last ditch effort to understand what makes him so beautiful. Maybe it’s jealousy, or hatred, or just plain intrigue, but he considers these three things in rapid succession:
First; Langas waist is narrow, bending with an easy fluidity that pulls at the fabric of his white dress shirt.
Second; his arms are lean, muscle shifting beneath his skin whenever he moves. There's a subtle definition at the lines of his biceps.
Third; his skin is pale beneath the lights, a faint sheen of sweat catching whenever the lasers sweep across him.
And then, horribly, Reki wonders which of the girls surrounding him will be the first to touch all of that. To know what it’s like when someone as impossibly composed as Langa Hasegawa is warm, flustered, and undone. How would he look? Small waist and pale skin trapped underneath reaching hands. Cool face contorting when the heat grows too high and he can’t maintain his composure any longer.
They say he fucks well, so Reki assumes that he must lose control easily.
Honestly, it’s hard for Reki to believe. Not with the way Langa's mouth is pressed into a composed grimace right now. It probably takes a lot to make him crack.
Reki shakes his head and brings his cup up to his mouth in a deep swig. He chugs the rest, and staunches his runaway thoughts.
Must be the alcohol.
“Langa!” The girl on his left reaches out in a wave, “What are you doing here?”
Langa's eyes dart over Reki and flick between the two girls. Reki slumps back and crosses his arms because now it's not a coincidence. Irritation burns at the back of his throat, chasing the bitter taste of beer. He keeps his eyes fixed on Langa's profile, watching color creep into his cheeks and his throat bob as he swallows.
Langa is usually so soft spoken that hearing him yell over the music is almost jarring. “Yeah, these kinda things aren’t usually for me.”
The girl Reki sleeps with leans forward. He feels the couch dip beneath her weight as she shifts closer. Her voice drips with a honeyed sweetness that she'd never once reserved for him, not even when he'd had her beneath him. “What’s changed?”
That's when Reki meets Langa's eyes. Up close, they're a sharper, brighter blue than he'd expected. He’s never locked eyes with Langa, despite the days they’ve spent attending the same lectures. Now, they ensnare Reki like a tide pulling at the shore.
The moment lasts only a heartbeat before Langa looks back to the girl and shifts on his feet. “A few people from my lecture drug me out.”
The girl laughs, louder than necessary to compete with the music. It's so close that it rings in Reki's ear. "And here we were thinking you came here for a special someone."
Langa blinks and then shrugs, “Whatever happens, happens. I’m not really familiar with anyone here.”
"We can introduce you to some people." A grin splits her face, reaching all the way to her cat eyes. "I know a few who'd love to get to know you. I’m Lily,” She nods toward her friend, “My friend’s Mina.”
So that’s her name; Lily. It’s fitting.
Had she offered it to Reki before? Probably the first time they’d met. He thinks.
Langa smiles back, but Reki can't shake the feeling that it's forced. He squints, studying the exchange, convinced Langa can feel his eyes on him and is deliberately pretending not to notice out of politeness.
What a perfect prince.
“Sure. Let me grab a drink to loosen up first?” It’s almost hopeful. He shifts his foot to turn away, but then Mina sways and places a hand on his shoulder, “No, no! Let us grab you something.”
Lily nods and stands, leaving the spot beside Reki on the couch empty. She pats the cushion, her perfume lingering in the air as she moves aside to make room for Langa.
"Sit! I warmed it up for you."
Langa looks to the spot and unconsciously recoils. It's slight, but Reki notices it. He feels the alcohol curdle in his stomach like milk.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s my first time I— I gotta—“
Her hands clap together and she bounces on the heels of her feet. “Exactly! It’s your first time. Please let us.”
Langa pauses, suspended for a moment before he clears his throat and graciously takes the offer. Although he definitely looks like he wants to do anything but sit next to Reki in a dimly lit house party clogged with bodies.
Lily turns to Reki, polite in the face of his majesty Langa Hasegawa. “Do you want anything?”
He glances down at the red solo cup clutched between his hands and offers it to her, “Please and thanks.”
She takes it mutely before turning away with her friend. They give a quick we’ll be back before heading towards the kitchen. Then Reki is left alone with Langa—the man who seems to captivate every conversation and catch the eye of every woman in the room.
Reki fights the ridiculous urge to smell himself, just to make sure he doesn't reek. Meanwhile, Langa is warm beside him, his cologne a soft contrast to the suffocating air of the party. It’s light and clean, carrying the scent of cedar and fresh snow. It’s the kind of cold, crisp scent that makes you forget you were ever trapped inside a room full of stale bodies like this. In his tipsy state, Reki has to fight the overwhelming urge to lean into him and inhale.
Does Langa usually smell like this in class?
Maybe Reki understands the appeal, just on this one thing.
When was the last time Reki had even gone shopping for cologne?
Reki tilts his head to the side, cushioning his cheek against the fabric of his hoodie. Langas hands catch his attention, clenching and unclenching in his lap. His fingers bleach white with pressure before unfurling, the color returning to them in faint shades of pink that look darker under the dim. They curl around his knees for a moment before tapping in time with the music. He’s restless, anxious even.
He practically drums through the entire song before Reki has enough.
Clearing his throat so his voice carries over the music, Reki asks, "They don't have parties where you're from?"
Langa shifts in surprise before his hands still. Reki watches his side profile — the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the faint flutter of his eyelashes. Langa's gaze drops to his hands as though he hadn't even realized he'd been fidgeting.
His eyelashes are long too. Of course they are.
Fuck this guy.
For a moment, Reki feels like Langa may be too dignified to offer him a response before he says a tentative, “They do.”
Langa speaks in a normal volume, not attempting to compete with the music. To compensate, he leans a fraction closer. Rekis face burns with an unwelcome heat. He feels it bleed beneath his skin and bloom until it creeps down his neck and pools through his chest.
They’re both guys. Reki talks to guys every day. He bumps shoulders with them every day too. Just because Langa’s beautiful, that fact doesn’t change. It's probably just because he’s a campus celebrity. Or maybe it's because Reki's three beers deep and he hates this guy.
“Then relax dude.” Reki shifts toward the arm of the couch, subtly readjusting the distance between them. “It’s all the same.”
“I’m from Canada.” Langa replies.
Reki catches Langa's sidelong glance but doesn't respond. He's not sure he really cares where this guy is from... or for small talk, for that matter.
Langa quickly amends, “The girls there aren’t the same.”
Ah, Reki thinks. It makes sense.
Langa is a shiny new toy from a foreign country, of course he’d be treated differently here than he had been at home.
“Yeah. The ones here are a little persistent.” Reki snorts, “They’re not shy about you.”
Langa looks down at his hands, which fight the urge to drum along with the song playing. His hair falls forward, obscuring his profile, and he shifts just enough to glance at Reki with one blue eye.
"It's a little overbearing."
Reki sucks in a breath, lungs shallowly filling with air saturated in smoke. In that moment with Langas lidded gaze focused on him, Reki really gets it. Langa is so beautiful that Reki wonders how anyone must be able to stand looking at him face to face. Up close, his skin is porcelain and flawless, his lashes sweep light against his cheeks, and his eyes catch the illumination of the party lights.
Langa offers a small smile, and Reki finds it impossible not to look at the curve of his mouth before he clears his throat and offers the ghost of one in return.
“Is it? One man's trash is another man’s treasure, I guess.”
Langa hums lowly into the music, “Is it a treasure to never be alone? I’m not sure.”
Somehow, despite his thoughts seconds ago, Reki finds him a little less abhorrent in this moment. With his shoulders hunched and his face obscured, Langa looks like anything but a Casanova. Maybe a misunderstood, tragic heartthrob. Something like that.
“Right, right. All trash then.” Is all Reki says in response.
They don't say anything afterwards, content to simply watch drunk partygoers meander back and forth, weaving through the crowd as the song changes from something slow to something more upbeat. The alcohol urges him to sing along. He doesn't, instead settling on tapping his foot against the floor to the rhythm. Then, he spots Langa's fingers following the same beat and realizes they are both off time with the music.
The alcohol is truly taking hold now because he really, really wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all—at the situation he's somehow found himself in, at how ridiculous the entire night has become.
It’s then that Langa leans closer, warm breath skimming the surface of Reki’s neck, “You’re Reki right?”
The uncomfortable, baseless heat returns. His name blanketed in the accented tone of Langa's tongue makes him itch. “Yup.”
“We have a Biology Lab together.”
“Yup.”
Reki scratches the back of his neck. God, could these girls take any longer grabbing their drinks?
“And Social Psychology.”
This catches Reki by surprise, “We do?”
Langa laughs, and Reki almost regrets that the sound is swallowed by the music. He’s never heard Langa laugh before, and the alcohol pushes the question of what it sounds like—what it would sound like without the noise of the party—straight to the forefront of his mind.
“I'm pretty sure. Unless you’re a different Reki.”
The fact that Langa Hasegawa not only knows his name but remembers which classes they share has Rekis mind buzzing. He can't believe it. Langa exists in a completely different social league.
“Do you...” Langa shifts, “do you know my name?”
He can’t be serious.
The absurdity of it draws Rekis voice immediately. “Do I what? How could I not?”
Langas shoulders rise, and if Reki didn’t know any better, he’d think he was embarrassed. There’s something almost shy about him as he reaches up to tuck his hair behind his ear. Reki realizes there's silver jewelry adorning Langas ear as he fiddles with one of the hoops in his cartilage. It catches the light with every movement and reflects the blue of his hair.
Eventually, Langa musters, “So the girls tend to be shy about you, then?”
It takes Reki a moment to even remember what Langa is referencing.
Then, Reki stares.
And stares.
Then it clicks and he laughs.
It’s loud enough that a few people turn and look. The three beers jeering through his system force the words to spill out, breathless and bubbly, “The girls don’t tend to be anything about me.”
Despite the fact that Langa must be making fun of him, he still seems a little taken aback, “Who were the two you were with then?”
“We were just people at a party.”
Reki's words bite a little, causing a moment of silence to pass. He almost expects Langa to excuse himself out of pity alone, maybe he's realized there's nothing interesting left to ask. But then Langa admits— “That’s hard for me to believe. I’m… I guess you could describe me as a fan.” He shifts and this time Reki is sure Langa is at least a little nervous to continue, “Of yours. I’m a fan of yours.”
Reki wonders if he heard him wrong over the music and blanches.
Is this guy serious?
“You’re a what?”
Langa’s eyes implore Reki, cool and honest when they drink his shock in. “Is that not the right word? Sorry, this isn’t my first language and the music is too loud, I can’t think.”
“No, no. I think it’s the right word but— I just… What?”
“Oh, I mean that I see you skating on campus all the time.”
Reki goes completely still. There is no reality in which Langa Hasegawa—the same Langa Hasegawa that everyone can't stop talking about—has noticed him. And yet, here he is, casually admitting that he's noticed Reki enough to become a fan of his skating. That he knows what classes they share and, most unbelievably of all, that he remembers Rekis name.
Langa turns just a little nearer, voice earnest, “You’re incredibly talented, Reki.”
Reki opens his mouth to reply, but suddenly a voice shouts behind them—“Did we keep you waiting?”
Something bumps against the top of Reki's head, and he looks up to find Lily holding a cup of beer above him. He reaches up to take it with a grateful nod, but the moment he does, he feels a pair of eyes burning into his profile. He tries to ignore the way Langa's gaze and words linger, but he's certain his face is bright red beneath the cover of the dim lighting.
Both girls shuffle to stand in front of the couch, their carefully put-together figures glinting with jewelry beneath the party lights. They're beautiful, and beside them stands another equally beautiful girl, eyes painted purple and dark hair cropped short. As Langa turns his attention away from Reki and toward her, she lifts a hand to rub the back of her neck.
“We got caught up with our friend Yuki.” Lily’s friend, Mina, explains.
Yuki gives a small wave before holding out a cup of beer for Langa. When he reaches to take it, she doesn't let go right away. Her fingers linger around the cup as she smiles down at him and their fingertips brush.
“It’s nice to meet you, Langa.”
Reki takes a sip from his cup and watches. The disdain he'd felt for Langa has all but disappeared. Now, all he feels is sympathy for the girl.
“You too.” All of the mirth in Langa’s voice from earlier is gone, he sounds almost dismissive. Are girls into this sort of thing? Is it an act he puts on to get them under his spell?
“Would you—... would you wanna play beer pong? After you finish your drink.”
“You’re shameless Yuki, wasting no time.” Lily gripes, hands finding her hips defensively. “Mina and I are gonna go to the bathroom. I can't watch this.”
Yuki doesn’t acknowledge her friends as both of them walk away, instead she allows her hand to drop, eyes brimming hopefully. Langa pulls the drink to his mouth and remarks, “Sorry. I’m not very good at games like that.”
“Totally. Yeah… Yeah. How about dancing, then?”
“I don’t have the stamina right now.” He confesses.
It's almost painful to watch now. Reki winces, shrinking into himself as he lifts his cup to his lips and nurses the beer. He can't possibly witness something like this without another drink.
She laughs, but it’s tight now. Her hand playfully lands on his shoulder, and she bends down until they are eye to eye. “I don’t believe you. Aren’t you an athlete?”
An athlete? It's the first time Reki has ever heard that about Langa. Usually, the rumors are about another fuck or confession, another girl he'd turned down. Never once has anyone talked about who Langa Hasegawa actually is and the realization catches Reki off guard. The few words they exchanged has made him realize that he truly doesn't know anything about Langa beyond what other people have telephoned.
A flicker of guilt settles in his chest.
He'd judged Langa long before giving him the chance to be anything more than rumors.
That guilt is quickly snuffed, however, when Langa points his thumb at Reki and offers, “This guy's a talented skateboarder though. I’m sure he could run circles around you.”
Yuki looks over and seems to notice Reki for the first time. Her eyes cut between the two of them before settling. He can't tell whether the invitation is begrudging or if he's simply imagining it when she asks, "Sure… Then— wanna dance?"
Reki pauses mid sip and feels the lukewarm beer carve a path down his throat. Then, he swallows.
Fuck it.
Anything is better than burning up next to Langa. Besides, he had just been bitching about never meeting anyone.
Reki sets down his cup and claps Langa on the shoulder in what he hopes conveys a silent thank you before standing to take Yuki's hand. It's warm and slightly damp in his own, and she leads him through the crowd until they reach the makeshift dance floor—nothing more than a smoke-filled living room packed with people moving to the music.
The air is stifling now. Reki has to shake out his arms more than once in an effort to loosen the tension that's settled deep into his body. He'd been sitting in the same spot since his first drink at the party, after all.
He wonders if Langa can still see them, then he berates himself because why would Langa be looking?
His hands fall to Yuki’s hips, barely holding on with the tips of his fingers. Her touch ghosts over him, disappearing with the shifting lights and returning with every sway of her body. He becomes acutely aware of her shape, the movement of her figure and the warmth of her against him. She slowly blurs into the crowd and, for a moment, she’s nothing more than short, dark hair moving through the rainbow cacophony of the crowd. Then she comes back into focus. Brown eyes dusted in purple watch his reaction when her arms loop around his neck.
The music changes to something slow. Reki tries to keep distance between their bodies, but she pulls him close by his torso. Her breath is warm across the planes of his face when she leans in, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes when she says, “I wanted it to be him, y’know.”
Reki isn't even given a moment to digest her words before she does the craziest fucking thing—she leans in and kisses him.
Her lips taste like her exhales, familiar with the lingering trace of smoke and alcohol. They move against his with confidence before her hand comes up to bury into the hair at his nape. When she pulls back, her eyes aren't on him, despite the tightening of her fingers. Instead, her head turns toward where Langa sits. Reki follows her gaze and nearly loses his balance because Langa Hasegawa is watching them.
He lifts the red Solo cup to his lips, blue eyes peering over the rim. The moment Reki catches his gaze, Langa looks away.
It's at that moment that Lily finds her place beside him. Her satin dress clings to her figure as she slips into the space next to Langa. Hair falling like a curtain over her lips, she whispers words Reki can't make out.
He wants to watch longer, but hands catch his face and pull his attention forward. Then a mouth is on his, and a tongue slips through the surprise of his parted lips. For a moment, Reki goes still. He doesn't know how to respond, mouth stupidly remaining slack as Yuki presses the side of her nose against his. His eyes drift back to her, and his tongue moves forward on instinct.
She pushes forward, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth. After a moment, he finds his open eyes drifting back to where he knows they shouldn’t. Langa isn't there anymore, but the cushion is dented from his weight.
Lips press to the corner of Reki’s mouth before they drift low, streaking along the sharp line of his jaw and falling down his neck. The feeling of her sucking against his clavicle is jarring enough that Reki finds it in himself to press his palms against her shoulders.
She releases from his skin and smiles a little dopily. “You’re stiff. I was hoping to make my move on him tonight, but he seems hard to catch." Crowding closer, her chest presses to Reki. The lace at her top drags against his hoodie. “You’re the guy that Lily sleeps with, right?”
He grimaces, “I guess you could describe me that way.”
Yuki smiles. She’s tipsy, he knows, but that doesn’t make her words bite any less. “She’s seriously gonna owe me for letting her have Langa.”
Reki blinks, “Have Langa?”
“Didn’t you see them? I’m sure she's already whisked him away.” Her last sentence turns into an irate mumble. “She’s always been the prettiest.”
Its like a bucket of ice water has come down on him. Reki breaks away, slipping from her hold around his middle and stepping backward into the crowd. For some reason, he wants to start a fight. He wants to hit Langa—to berate him for being so effortlessly perfect. For being kind in a way that forces Reki to question every assertion he's come up with in his head.
Embarrassment, shame, and anger surge through him all at once, leaving him unable to separate one feeling from the next.
“Thanks for the dance,” He says, “…and the kiss. I think I’ve drank too much.”
It takes him a moment of pushing through bodies to make it from the throng. He looks to the spot Langa and Lily had been. Now, a new group hog it—three people alone sitting on the armrest.
What even is the point of trying to find Lily and Langa? Does he expect some sort of retribution? A confrontation with Langa where he can say hey man, thats my fuck buddy and you’re so attractive that this is making me crazy. Could you stop? I hate you.
Honestly, what can he do in this situation besides grab another beer?
So that's exactly what he does. He heads to the kitchen, runs into a few classmates along the way, and then fills his cup. The liquid is room temperature as it slides down his throat. Honestly, he’s not nearly drunk enough to forget who he is or why he's so upset, but the pleasant buzzing across his face is a good start.
He leans against the fridge for a few minutes, basking in the solitude of the kitchen. Sure, its open to the rest of the party, but he's the only person in it. Everyone else is too busy fucking and dancing. It's late into the night, after all.
At the reminder, Reki looks down at his phone — 12:42am.
There are a few texts from his friends and one from his mom. He quickly responds to the roommate who drove him to the party, asking when they plan to leave. If he'd agreed to be the designated driver tonight, he would've had his own car and could've left whenever he wanted. Instead, he's stuck waiting around, and he hasn't even had enough to drink for the night to make it feel worth it.
The string of messages he reads makes him groan aloud.
I’m staying the night, sorry
Met a girl
Get a ride from Sayaka
Or call an uber
I can send you money
Angrily, Reki shoves his phone into his pocket and drains the rest of his beer. He supposes his only option now is to head outside and wait for an Uber. Or he could just make the twenty-minute walk of shame back to his apartment and save the money. Either way, he's feeling too self-loathing to spend another minute here. Plus, he's not really in the mood to sleep with anyone tonight.
Just as he throws his cup in the trash, two voices that Reki recognizes sound near the entrance to the kitchen.
It's just his luck. Seriously, he should buy a lottery ticket.
“Im sorry. I told you, I can’t.” The words sound limp.
“Whatever. I’m done trying.” This voice is definitely Lily, sharp and high. She slurs a little bit, but heedlessly sounds angry at the same time. “Aren’t you supposed to be some fucking— I don’t know. Some sex wizard or something.”
Shit, shit, shit.
Langa walks into the kitchen, “I’m not sure what gave you that impression.”
He pauses when he sees Reki standing there. Heat crawls up Reki's neck. He must look ridiculous—standing alone in the middle of the kitchen. Of course it had to be Langa and Lily, two incredibly attractive people that he kind of knows.
“Reki?” Langa asks as Lily files in behind him.
Just how has he managed to end up third wheeling between his friends with benefits and Langa Hasegawa? At least having the other girl there—Mina, he’s sure—broke the ice a little bit.
“—uhm,” Reki moves to step forward, “ I was on my way out. All yours.”
The corner of Langa's mouth is stained crimson. When he notices Reki staring, he hastily wipes at it with the back of his hand. It's a futile effort. All he manages to do is smear the evidence across his cheek.
Lily glowers, “All ours for what? This guy to stand there and do nothing? Rumors aren't shit.” She swats at Reki's side and grabs a water bottle from the fridge when he shifts over. Then, she looks at him in a way that is neither affectionate nor disdainful and says, “If you wanna meet later, I’ll be on the second floor.”
Then she walks out of the kitchen and Reki is left in stunned silence. To have his business with her subtly outed in front of Langa makes his face burn. But when he looks at Langas face, there is not judgement, and hardly even any recognition. Instead, he seems deflated, unsettled as though something has upended.
“Are…” Reki clears his throat, “Are you okay?”
Langa's eyes dart up. “Yeah. Fine. I don’t know—this whole thing has just been never-ending.” He wipes a hand down his face, ”Sorry, I don’t mean to force my bad night on you.”
Reki thinks for a moment. Sure, Langa isn't his friend, but he's not someone Reki finds himself loathing anymore, either. And maybe, in this moment, hearing him out wouldn't be so bad. If anything, he wants to do it just to get Langa to stop looking so dejected. It almost feels wrong to see him like this.
"Don't worry, it's fine."
Langa’s hand reaches up to comb through his hair. He shifts his weight between each leg and considers a moment before saying, "I guess I just feel bad.”
“What happened?” Reki can’t believe he’s asking Langa Hasegawa this—and maybe that’s why his voice comes out softer than he had meant it to be.
Langa leans his tailbone against the counter opposite Reki, hands reaching back to prop himself. “She tried to kiss me. I told her i’m not into that kind of thing, really. Whenever women try… I don’t know. I guess I just freeze up.” He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, “They expect something that I can’t give them.”
Reki feels a little bad for him, which is surprising considering the sentiment he had started the night with. “Listen, you really shouldn’t feel bad. She’ll end up getting a lay tonight regardless.”
Langa looks like he’s debating his next words, chewing on them before he manages to string them together in one rush, “Will that be you? Her next lay, I mean.”
Reki shrugs, “Who knows? Probably not. I’m out of a ride and don’t really feel like screwing in a guest room and walking home at 4am.”
Langa raises an eyebrow, “4am?”
He’s starting to look a little less upset, so Reki tries his hand at a weak joke, “We’ll probably start at 3:55.”
Langa laughs then, it’s low and airy and so smooth that Reki feels it spread to his lower stomach. He shifts to disperse the feeling, but it only grows stronger when Langa says a breathless and dejected — “You’re funny, Reki.”
Reki steers the subject back, shaking the strange sensation away. Tonight has been so weird. “We’ve fucked around together a few times but it’s nothing serious. I try to avoid her sometimes. I don’t know how she always manages to find me.”
“…She’s not good then? In… In bed?”
Reki is a little taken aback because Langa doesn't seem like the type to ask something like that. His gaze latches onto Reki and holds, hungry for an answer.
“Nah, she’s fine I guess. It's just that I’m not really into the whole friends with benefits thing.” He runs a hand through his hair and fiddles with his headband. Langa’s eyes follow the motion.
“I see.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
He’s not sure why he asks it. It’s probably the alcohol buzzing in his stomach and pulling the words from his throat. But for some reason, he wants to know the answer. There has to be a reason a guy like Langa has been rejecting every girl in university.
“I haven’t really thought about it… Haven’t had much time for relationships since I moved here.”
“What about in Canada? Did you have a girlfriend?”
Langa laughs smally, but it lacks humor and Reki winces. "I definitely didn’t have a girlfriend back home.”
Reki remembers Lily’s words, her harsh tone and judgement.
Have you ever even been with anyone?
He wants to ask it. So, so bad, but instead he says, “You’ll have plenty to choose from here.”
“Sure. Like Lily? You saw how that ended. I don’t have the experience that college girls want from a guy.”
Theres no way Langa is being honest. A guy like him? With rumors like those? They can't all be fabricated. Langa has practically been transformed into a pornographic figure head.
He wants to ask. The question pulses and pulses against his temple until it finally slips and he hears his voice say — “Have you never been with a girl?”
Langa glances away, cheeks filling with color. “Despite what you might've heard. I haven’t.”
How is that possible?
How is Langa standing in front of Reki, in the kitchen of some random house party, admitting he has no experience? How is he dismantling every opinion Reki has ever formed of him just on a whim?
“Not even a kiss?”
“Not even a kiss.”
“Dude, I’m sorry but— what?"
“Dunno.” Langa’s arms push against the fabric of his shirt as he leans further back. “I don’t know how to do much of anything. And then when people come to me… I don't have the confidence to try, I guess. I think it’s a me thing.”
Is Langa just a guy who can’t seem to separate what he wants from what others want?
The music thumps. It urges Reki to be stupid, pounding in tempo through his blood.
Reki has had a lot of idiotic ideas tonight. Maybe it's the alcohol humming through his veins, or the flash of Langa's eyes beneath pale lashes, but suddenly he wants to say it.
And sure, Langa's a guy. But he's also the prettiest guy Reki has ever met, and somehow that makes the idea seem almost reasonable.
The words leave him before he can decide whether they belong in his mouth.
"Wanna practice with me?"