Chapter Text
“Reki,” a voice jolted Reki where he’d been sitting, minding his own business, messing with his board.
He looked up and blinked rapidly, confused to see the new student standing in front of him. The one who sat next to him in class, the one everyone had gotten obsessed with over the last month since he arrived. Langa.
“You know my name?” Reki asked, saying the first thing that came to mind. His face flared red when he realized what he said.
Langa tilted his head, his eyebrows coming together as he looked down at him. “Yeah, you sit next to me.”
Reki looked around him, looking for people watching or a reason Langa would be talking to him. Surely this had to be some kind of prank? Someone probably set him up to do it. Why would popular Langa, with so many new friends, be talking to him?
When he saw no one, he looked back at Langa cautiously. “What did… what did you need?”
Langa curled his fingers into the straps of his backpack, like he was building up to something, like he was struggling with what to say. Finally, he uttered out, “Can you help me with my Japanese?”
Reki gaped at him, almost dropping his board, and couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”
Langa stared at him and Reki stared back and Reki wanted to die with the incredible awkwardness that was forming between them but finally… Langa ducked his head, kicking at the ground, as he said, “I can’t write well… in Japanese.”
Reki still didn’t get it though. Because why in the world would Langa ask him? He who was mediocre at writing in his own language? Like, shouldn’t there be better people to ask? Smarter people to ask? More interesting people to ask? “What about your friends?” Reki asked. “Or your teammates?” Reki knew Langa had joined the soccer team recently. Everyone was talking about it.
“Huh?” Langa started, frown ever present. “But you sit next to me?”
Ah, there it is. It all made sense now. Reki was a convenience. At this new knowledge, a sense of relief washed over him and he settled back into familiar territory. Breathing out, Reki managed a smile as he told him, “Well, maybe. I guess I can but I’m not sure you’ll want to me to help you, because—”
“No, I want you.”
Reki looked at Langa, then around at the empty side of the school they were on for really anything to clue him in on what was happening, and then back to Langa. The other boy looked so earnest, even a little panicked. Wow, he must be really be bad at Japanese to get this desperate.
Nodding slowly, Reki agreed, “I can help you… if you want.”
Langa’s lips quirked up in something close to a smile and Reki could only stare. “Good,” Langa said, relief evident in his tone. “Can we start now?”
“Like right now this second?” Reki asked, still feeling dazed by this whole conversation.
Langa nodded.
“Well, I didn’t bring anything with me and I think they locked up the doors already,” Reki started, glancing over his shoulder at the door nearest to them. Reki tended to skate outside the school sometimes till late; there was a pretty good railing to slide after the teachers were mostly gone. He wondered what Langa was doing out here so late?
He glanced back at Langa, taking in the boy’s sweaty bangs. Soccer practice, probably.
“Oh,” Langa said, the upwards tick of his lips falling away.
“We can start tomorrow otherwise?” Reki said.
Langa lit up again, adjusting his backpack. “Tomorrow, then.”
Reki wasn’t sure what he got himself into when he agreed to help Langa with Japanese, but he wasn’t expecting Langa to suddenly act so friendly with him.
The next morning, he was leaning over his notebook doodling, when Langa came in. The class immediately started to greet him and Langa responded in the soft way he always did.
What was different was this: “Good morning, Reki.”
Reki’s pencil stopped mid-stroke and he looked up. Langa clearly thought nothing of it, sitting down and taking his notebooks out, but the rest of the class… well, they were staring.
“Hey, Langa,” he mumbled, looking away from their questioning eyes and back at his paper.
“Ready for after school?” Langa asked.
Reki blinked, noticing as more heads turned towards them. “Yes, studying, right,” Reki quickly said loudly, hopefully to quell their curiosity. Unfortunately, though, Reki noticed more people turn to stare.
“What are you studying?” a girl asked.
“Japanese,” Langa said immediately, glancing at Reki.
“Why would you ask him? You should study with me, I love tutoring!” another more qualified student told him. They were top of the class.
Reki looked down at his drawing, hand tensing on his pencil.
“I already asked Reki,” Langa said, eyes turning on him and Reki found himself meeting Langa’s gaze. He was dumbfounded with the warmth he found there.
No wonder people liked Langa.
Reki wasn’t good with words, which was probably not great for teaching someone to write them.
He frowned as he watched Langa draw a stroke on a Kanji character going the wrong direction and he reached over and pointed at it and said, “You’re flicking your pencil the wrong way. You gotta do it the other way and it will kind of look like a bowl but it’s like bigger than you’re doing now. I mean…” He faltered, heating when he realized how bad his explanation was. “Well, maybe I should just show you?”
Langa stared at his page, erased the mark and did it perfectly.
“Oh,” Reki said, surprised. “You already knew it.”
“No, you just told me how to do it.”
Reki glanced up to find Langa already looking at him. How in the hell had he understood his instruction?
“You’re a really good teacher,” Langa continued.
Reki huffed. “Don’t say that, we just started. Just wait and see and you’ll be begging to get rid of me.”
Langa ignored his comment and went to the next one in his English to Japanese work book. “How do I write this one?”
Reki read the English word for cat and turned to his own paper and told him, “Copy me.”
In what felt like an instant, a half hour had flashed by, and Reki jolted when his phone’s alarm went off, meaning Langa had to head to soccer practice. “I guess that’s it for the day,” he said. He started to pack up, shoving things into his bag, eager to ditch the Japanese lesson so he could go skate finally. This is probably more effort than he gave his own homework.
Langa started to pack up just as rapidly, probably excited to get to his practice.
Reki slung his bag over his shoulder and picked up his board, and headed for the door of their empty classroom. “See ya, Langa.”
“Wait!” Langa called out.
Halting, Reki turned back, watching as Langa scrambled to follow him. “Same time tomorrow, right?” he asked, stopping in front of Reki, still zipping up his bag.
“You want to do this every day?” Reki asked with a frown.
“If it doesn’t bother you… I’ll buy you something. What snacks do you like?”
Reki shook his head, moving hair out of his eyes. “It’s okay, Langa. We can keep studying. You don’t need to buy me anything. Same time tomorrow?”
Langa nodded, looking at him oddly.
“Cool,” Reki said. “See ya, Langa.”
The next time they studied together, Langa was distracted. Every time Reki looked up from his explanation of the Kanji, Langa was staring at him, not at what he was writing.
“Dude, do I have something on my face?” Reki asked, putting his pencil down to rub his sleeve against his skin.
Langa blinked, as if out of a daze. “No, sorry, I was listening.”
Reki paused in his rubbing and looked at him accusingly. “You weren’t listening, were you?”
“I was!”
“Then what did I say?”
Langa looked at him guiltily.
“Aha! I knew it!” Reki waved his pencil in Langa’s face. “It’s only the second day of this and you’re already not listening. Look, we don’t need to keep this up if you’re not actually gonna—”
“I’m listening! It’s just—” Langa cut himself, wide eyed.
Reki poked him with his pencil. “It’s what?”
“Your voice,” Langa finished.
“My voice? What’s wrong with it?” Reki gasped in surprise.
“It’s not bad!” Langa rushed to say.
“Not bad?” Reki said, his tone rising. “How can it not be bad if you are so distracted by it?”
Langa looked like a deer caught in headlights, fumbling over his words, “It’s not—that’s not what I—”
Groaning, Reki slapped a hand to his forehead. “Whatever, Langa. Just ignore my crappy voice and watch what I’m doing, okay? Insult me some other time.”
“I really wasn’t—”
“No,” Reki said, pointing at him with his pencil. “Now watch me and copy it.”
He started to write and Langa deflated next to him with a glum, “Okay.”
Serves him right, insulting his voice.
Reki and his sister, Koyomi, were laying side by side in front of the TV, watching the crappy gameshow they always watched on Thursdays. He tapped his fingers on the floor, popsicle stick in his mouth from the long-gone ice cream, thinking of Langa’s insult today. It kinda sucked being the only one in the entire world Langa has probably insulted.
“I can hear you thinking,” Koyomi said, kicking him affectionally in the side.
Reki kicked her back. “Shut up, I’m allowed to think.”
“But you get this stupid look on your face, when you’re doing it.”
Reki realized in horror, maybe Langa thought his face was as ugly as his voice.
“Like that one,” she said.
“Is my voice dumb?” Reki asked.
He caught her look, the protective one she got on her face a lot these days. “Did Hiroto say that?” Her voice was sharp.
“No, I blocked his number,” Reki said, looking down and away. He forced himself not to flinch at the mention of his middle school… friend? Ex? Hard to say what to call him now. “This was someone at school.”
“Tell me their name and I’ll beat some sense into them,” she said sitting up, eyes flaring.
“No way,” Reki laughed. “I would die if my little sister had to beat someone up for me. But seriously, does my voice suck?”
“As a sister, I want to say everything about you sucks. But also, as a sister, it’s fine. It’s a normal voice. That person is just a jerk.”
Reki grinned. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said with another kick to his side.
“Maybe it’s because he’s American,” Reki reasoned.
Koyomi shrugged, eyes back on the TV. “Just watch the show, Reki.”
The next day, as Langa sat down to study with him, Reki asked, “Is it an American thing to hate people’s voices?”
“I don’t—I’m not American, I’m Canadian,” Langa sputtered, apparently caught off guard.
Reki tapped his chin. “So, Canadians hate—”
“I don’t hate your voice, Reki!” Langa huffed. “It’s fine.”
Reki narrowed his eyes at Langa but Langa was avoiding his gaze. “Canadians are weird,” Reki mumbled, turning to look at the workbook page to figure out what Langa was stuck on.
“Hey,” Langa said, catching Reki’s attention again. “Do you want to go get food after? I don’t have practice Fridays and I want to pay you back.”
Reki rolled his eyes. “Langa, I told you to stop trying to pay me back. It’s fine.”
“I want to, though,” Langa insisted. “Otherwise I’ll feel bad. You’re doing so much to help me and you’re getting nothing out of it.”
“Don’t feel bad for me,” Reki said, his defenses rising. “I’m not a charity case.”
“It’s not charity. It’s my treat and I want to.”
Reki clenched his fingers along his pencil as the bitter emotions flooded in: suspicion, paranoia, fear. He swallowed roughly and shook his head. “I’m skating after this, sorry.”
Langa perked up and said quickly, “Maybe you could teach me!”
“No,” Reki shut him down instantly, voice cold. He couldn’t help thinking of Hiroto, lying in that hospital bed…
Langa sat back, eyes wide. “Oh. Sorry.”
Despite himself, Reki felt a rush of guilt, so he sighed and pushed the workbook between them. “Do this next one, Langa.”
He would just get through studying with Langa, until Langa got bored of him. That’s it. Then they wouldn’t need to talk ever again.