Infinity, Taken Literally

Identity 20

Langa is sulking.

He knows that. Anyone who looks at him knows that. If the way that he's pressing himself into the corner, a hand holding his head up dejectedly, wasn't an indication. Then the fact that the wafting smell of food doesn't make him hungry, should be. Not to mention that he's spent the entire week gloomily sighing at the ground. When it wasn't that, it was an expression of such deep thought, that even Miya couldn't bring himself to antagonise the woeful teen.

With something between a sigh and a groan, Miya drops his console on the table defeatedly. The screen flashes red with: 'You Lose!' in large letters, as his character lies dead in the background. "Are you still sulking?" He narrows his eyes at Langa judgementally.

Langa angles his head to the side to avoid the look. "No." His response is muffed by the hand still propped under his chin. Si La Luce has closed for the night, leaving the small group alone as Joe packs up.

"He totally is," Shadow barely spares a glance at Langa's slumped posture.

"Do you think about anything other than Crimson these days?" An indistinguishable noise, probably one of offence, comes from behind the hand and Langa flushes with embarrassment. It's enough of a reaction to satisfy Miya's otherwise rhetorical question.

"I do," He defends weakly.

"Sure, you do." Langa doesn't need to look to know that Miya is rolling his eyes, his sarcasm is thick enough with it.

Originally, Langa had just been curious about the person who, although hiding their identity, confidently walked around S like they could beat everyone there. He hadn't picked up on it until Crimson had approached the start line, late for their beef and a look of bored indifference on his face. Although he hadn't been too annoyed with it, Shadow and Miya had been one step away from joining in on the race to 'wipe that look off his face'.

They'd barely made it a third of the way down the track when it became obvious, not only to him but to everyone watching as well. Crimson has a reason to be as confident as he seems. His technique and skills were miles ahead of almost anyone else Langa had skated against.

For better or worse, Crimson didn't seem to notice the kind of aura that he gave off anyway. By the end of the race, Langa couldn't help but see the confidence as a quiet plea. A refusal to make himself appear weaker for the benefit of those around him, but also a burning desire for someone who can skate with him. Someone who can make skating exciting again by challenging him at the same level he's at.

"I think he's the same age as us," Langa announces to the table. Shadow raises an eyebrow, trying to figure out where that observation came from so suddenly. From their height difference to the brief sound of laughter that Langa had managed to catch during their race, the chances are pretty high.

"Probably." Miya shrugs. "Only someone like you would be stupid enough to pull off that jump without thinking twice." Langa smiles to himself at the memory. Behind him, Miya fake pukes at the doe-eyed expression.

The jump had been the reason behind most of Langa's daydreaming since their race. Watching Crimson soar overhead, the moon brightly shining behind him, left him feeling like the breath had been stolen from his chest. Between staring up at the sight awestruck and Crimson's board hitting the ground again, he had been left reeling. The force behind the sudden urge to know who Crimson is, almost had him taking a step back to brace himself.

By the next morning, Langa's curiosity had evolved into an overzealous determination to find out as much about Crimson as possible. Something about the masked skater tingled the back of his mind with familiarity. Like they'd met before, but he couldn't put his finger on where or why. It's been slowly driving him, and everyone around him, crazy as he tries to figure it out.