365 Days

5

Reki began grabbing his things from under the counter, gathering them in his backpack. Langa approached behind him and leaned on the counter beside him.

"So, you already clocked out then?" He asked and Reki nodded in response.

"Yeah, I'm gonna hang with Miya." Reki said, fiddling with the black fabric attached to the plastic zipper.

The redhead glanced over at Langa and saw him looking down at his blue sneakers. Reki chewed on the tip of his tongue for a few seconds before nudging Langa's foot wit his own.

"Hey." Reki began.

"Hm?" Langa hummed.

"Don't be mopey. You're the one who asked for the extra shift for the next two months." Reki mocked, jokingly.

Langa let out a halfassed laugh, continuing to look down and gripping his hand onto the edge of the counter as he felt his face getting warm.

"Yeah, I know. I just wanna hang out, you know?"

"Why'd you ask for the extra shift anyways?" Reki said, leaning his body a little bit closer to Langa, putting both of his feet on the sides of the rubber of Langa's shoes.

Langa shrugged as he watched Reki's feet shift and held back a yell as a rough surface softly set itself by his hand.

He carefully raised his head looked at where his hand was placed on the counter and saw Reki's index find barely touching his pinky finger.

Reki hardly ever saw him on the weekends so any interaction was like gold to him, but the moment his finger touched Langa's, it sent an electric rush he'd only felt once before. But this time it was different—special, in more ways than one.

Reki looked back up at Langa and met his eyes.

"So," Reki stopped himself, frightened by his own voice after their silence—which seemed normalized by now—then continued.

"So, are you doing anything next weekend? Since the shop is gonna be closed."

"No, I don't think I have anything planned." Langa shook head as Reki grinned.

"Okay, I've got something for us to do then." Reki let his excitement overtake him and reached his hand over Langa's, interlacing his fingers in the gaps of Langa's pale hand.

Reki's eyes became as wide as saucers as he pulled himself away from Langa all together.

"I'm so...Uh...Listen I..." He stammered. "I should get going, before catboy throws a kitty tantrum." Langa nodded, agreeing, though he wasn't entirely sure that he meant it.

Reki grabbed his backpack and jumped over the counter, rushing outside. As he walked out, he almost ran into a girl with white hair.

"Sorry!" Reki waved, as he ran the other way. She sighed as she continued walking.

She looked to her right and saw Langa wiping the counter from the skate shop. As she walked in, the bell rang, bringing Langa's attention to her.

"Welcome." He smiled, then raising his eyebrows. "Wait, you're that girl."

"I am a girl." She chuckled, walking toward the counter and Langa joined her putting his rag down. "We go to the same school right?"

"Yes, but I'm in a different class." Langa nodded.

"Ah, I see. Well, name is Itsuki Hiroshi." She said, reaching her hand out to him. He hesitated before taking her hand.

"Langa Hasegawa." He said, shaking her hand.

Langa's face slightly dropped as her looked down at her hand, noticing a familiar characteristic about it—Itsuki had soft hands, similar to the fresh snow back home.

"What?" Itsuki asked.

"Nothing, it's just your hand..." He trailed and softly chuckled.

"Oh, yeah. They've always been like that—it's kinda weird huh?" She shrugged.

"No, of course not. It's just different from someone else's hands, is all." Langa muttered, meekly, sliding his hand out of hers. She nodded, continuing to smile at him.

"Are you interested in skating?" Langa asked, shaking his head.

"My brother is. He broke his board a few weeks ago and hasn't been able to get it fixed." Itsuki explained. "And I wanna get him a new one, but I'm not sure what he wants."

"I'm happy to help, if you need it." Langa suggestion.

"Please." Itsuki pled as Langa walked around the counter and led her to the the boards.

"So, how old is he?" Langa asked.

"14."

"Did he have anything on the bottom of the deck?"

"Deck?"

"It's the platform that you stand on." He explained.

"Oh, is that important?" Itsuki asked, confused.

"It's kind of a skater thing?" Langa shrugged. Itsuki filter her head, still in confusion.

"It's like clothes. It expresses the skater, you know?" Langa continued said as she nodded.

"It had clouds." Itsuki blurted. "It was a black background with white clouds.

"Has he been skating long?" He asked.

"Only about three months." She said, covering her mouth with her hand, attempting to hid her laughs.

"Is he really that bad?" Langa chuckled and Itsuki nodded rapidly.

"Well, a friend of mine once told me that you gotta start somewhere." He said, grabbing a deck and walking behind the counter, setting the board next to the rag. "Let's check you out."

She nodded and walked over to the cashier as Langa put numbers into it.

"It'll be 5,000 yen. Do you wanna pay now or when it's done?" Langa looked up at her and she was already pulling out her money and holding it out to him.

"Now is fine." Itsuki smiled. Langa nodded and put it in the machine. He leaned, grabbing a pen and a sticky note.

"Our board maker just clocked out, but is there a number we can call after it's done?" Langa asked.

"Sure, it's 625-555-8041." She said as he nodded, writing down the numbers.

"Okay. We'll call you soon then, Hiroshi-san." Langa said, sticking the note onto the board then handing her the receipt.

"I'll see you then, and just Itsuki works." She took the receipt, walking to the door. "Oh, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Feel free to use that number to call me, non-work related—if you want." She shrugged.

"Oh...Uh...Yeah, I'd like that." Langa chuckled, nervously.

"See you at school." She waved, walking into the street.

As Langa watched her blend into the people of Okinawa, his head began to fill itself with overflowing thoughts.

As he walked to the back room, setting the deck onto a shelf all his senses seemed to disappear as two contrasting colors—red and white—collided, like a never ending internal war.

White was clear and comfortable. It was pure—almost angelic—and made Langa feel grounded and put together.

Red, however, was complex and difficult to figure out. It was hyper-active, reckless, and could have Langa standing still one second and have him defying gravity the next.

Langa walked back to the counter, having his entire energy drained faster than any beef he'd participated in ever managed to.

As the internal war continued, he prayed that no one else would come into the store for the rest of his shift.