Renga Oneshots

trans reki

Reki's POV

Langa and I were sprawled out on his bed, the glow of his phone screen illuminating our faces in the dimly lit room. A skate video played on the screen, the sound of wheels scraping against pavement filling the comfortable silence between us. We'd been like this for a while—just existing together, wrapped up in the world of skating.

But then, as I glanced at the time—8:00 PM—an all-too-familiar pressure settled in my chest. Not just figuratively, but literally.

I needed to take off my binder.

The realization hit hard, making my stomach twist with anxiety. I swallowed, trying to push down the panic that threatened to creep up my throat.

I hesitated before speaking. "Heyyy," I said, voice softer than usual. "I wanna go change, is that okay?"

Langa, still focused on the video, hummed in acknowledgment before taking the phone from my hands. "Of course," he said easily, barely looking up as he kept watching. He didn't question it—why would he? He trusted me, just like I trusted him.

I grabbed my bag and stood up, my heart already beating faster as I made my way down the hall to the bathroom. My pace quickened the closer I got, my need to relieve the discomfort outweighing everything else.

As soon as I stepped inside, I locked the door behind me, exhaling in relief.

I knelt down and dug through my bag.

Nothing.

I froze. My breath hitched. I checked again, frantically pushing things aside.

Still nothing.

My sports bra was on my bed. At home. Miles away.

Panic surged through my veins like ice water. What am I going to do? What do I say? The idea of putting my binder back on made my chest feel even tighter, but what other option did I have?

I can't go back out there without something.

My hands were shaking as I slipped the binder over my head again, wincing at the feeling of it compressing against my ribs. It was already too tight from wearing it all day. My body was begging for relief, but my mind refused to let me go out there unprepared.

I stood in front of the mirror, gripping the edges of the sink, my own reflection staring back at me.

Langa didn't know. Not yet. And suddenly, it wasn't just about tonight—it was about everything.

Would he understand? Would he see me the same way?

Would he still love me?

I sucked in a shaky breath, rubbing at my face to push down the emotions rising in my chest.

I have to tell him.

With my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, I forced my legs to move, walking back to Langa's room. My hands trembled as I reached for the door handle, pushing it open.

Langa glanced up at me from the bed, immediately sensing something was off. I wasn't sure if it was the stiffness in my movements or the way I hesitated before stepping inside, but his expression softened.

"Hey," I started, voice barely above a whisper. "We... we need to talk about something. It's important."

Langa sat up straighter, his blue eyes locked onto mine with quiet concern. "Alright," he said, patting the space next to him. "Come here."

I put my bag down and sat beside him, my fingers instinctively reaching for his hand. He squeezed back, gentle and reassuring, but it didn't stop my nerves from making my whole body tense.

"So, um... how do I even start this?" My voice cracked slightly, and I forced a laugh, but it felt hollow. Langa's grip on my hand tightened just a little, his silent way of telling me I could take my time.

I looked down at my lap, inhaling deeply before finally speaking the words that had been trapped inside me for so long.

"I'm transgender."

The second the words left my mouth, my hands clenched into fists. I rushed to add, "Like—female to male. I mean, I—" My throat closed up, and my breath came out shaky. "I just... I need you to know that. Because it's important."

I couldn't bring myself to look at him. My eyes burned, tears threatening to fall before I could even register them. My heart was hammering in my chest, terrified of whatever was about to come next.

For a moment, Langa didn't say anything.

Then—

"Reki," his voice was soft, careful, full of something I couldn't quite place.

I braced myself for the worst.

"I'm really glad you told me."

My breath hitched.

"I fully support you," he continued, his grip on my hand never loosening. "I love you so much. And I don't care what you were 'biologically.' You're you. And that's all that matters to me."

I finally looked up at him, my vision slightly blurred, and I found him staring at me with so much warmth, so much certainty, that it knocked the air from my lungs.

I let out a watery laugh, rubbing my eyes. "You mean that?"

Langa's lips quirked up. "Of course I do." Then his expression shifted slightly, tilting his head. "But... why tell me now?"

I let out an awkward, shaky chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. "Uh, well... let's just say I forgot my sports bra at home, and I really need to take off my binder. And I didn't want you to be surprised when I walked back in."

Langa blinked, then let out a small ohhh of understanding before smiling. "That makes sense." He squeezed my hand once more before gently nudging me. "Go change, then. You shouldn't be uncomfortable."

I let out a relieved breath, feeling a weight lift off my chest—figuratively, for now. "Yeah. Thanks, Snow."

I grabbed my bag and hurried back to the bathroom, slipping into my usual yellow hoodie and black sweats. As soon as I was dressed, I took a moment to breathe, staring at myself in the mirror again.

This time, I felt lighter.

When I returned to Langa's room, he was already looking at me with a knowing expression.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, voice full of warmth. "Why is your face red?"

I chuckled, flopping onto the bed beside him. "Oh, nothing. I think I started tearing up 'cause I was so happy."

Langa hummed, wrapping an arm around me as I curled up against his chest. His fingers threaded through my hair, his touch slow and comforting.

"You are happy, right?" he murmured, as if making sure.

I pressed my face against his hoodie, nodding. "Yeah," I whispered. "I've never felt more loved."

Langa didn't say anything, but I could feel the way he held me just a little tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before whispering softly, "Good. You deserve that."

And for the first time in a long time, I believed it.