Renga Oneshots

Camping

The idea started as a joke—chucked out there by Miya, who didn't think anyone would actually take it seriously.

"We should totally have a sleepover at S sometime," he'd said, kicking at the ramp edge with his board. "Like, an actual one. Tents, snacks, ghost stories. All that stuff."

But then Cherry caught wind of it, Joe got a hold of a portable grill, and before anyone knew it, they were doing it. Half a dozen skaters and a cooler full of sodas, all sprawled across the concrete terrain of S under a wide, starlit sky.

Reki was buzzing with excitement, all energy and light as he helped set up the cheap string lights Cherry insisted on bringing. Langa, quieter as usual, followed behind him like a shadow, occasionally stealing glances at Reki's grin when he thought no one was looking.

The night rolled in fast.

Laughter echoed through the empty park. Miya scared himself half to death with his own ghost story. Cherry and Joe argued over whose portable stove was more "aesthetically pleasing." At some point, someone played music off a cracked speaker and everyone danced like idiots for five minutes straight before collapsing in a tangled mess of limbs and wheezy laughter.

By midnight, most of the crew had retreated to their tents or makeshift sleeping bags, worn out by the sugar, the skating, and the general chaos of being teenagers with no bedtime.

Reki and Langa, though, stayed awake.

They sat on the highest ramp in the park, legs dangling, boards resting at their sides. A blanket was draped over their shoulders, borrowed from Reki's bag.

It was quiet now—just the two of them, city lights flickering in the distance, and the sound of the wind brushing past the rails.

Langa tilted his head back, eyes tracing constellations. "I've never slept outside like this before."

Reki looked over. "Really?"

He nodded. "In Canada, we had camping trips, but... I didn't go to many. My dad and I used to skate in the snow, though. Not really the same."

Reki smiled, a little softer than usual. "I think this counts."

They sat in silence for a while, the kind that didn't feel awkward. Just... easy.

Reki shifted beside him, pulling the blanket tighter around their shoulders. "Hey, Langa?"

"Mm?"

"Do you ever think about... what we'll be doing next year? Or, like, five years from now?"

Langa turned to him. "You mean, with skating?"

"With skating. With life. With us."

There was a pause—one of those moments where the air feels heavier, like it's holding its breath.

"I think about it," Langa said quietly. "I think about skating. And I think about you."

Reki blinked. His heart did something weird and fluttery in his chest.

"Oh," he breathed.

Langa rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, I don't know what will happen. But when I think about the future, it always has you in it. Is that weird?"

"No," Reki said, voice barely above a whisper. "It's not."

Another beat of silence passed between them.

Then Langa looked away, down at the park, the rail glinting under moonlight. "I didn't really have anyone like this in Canada. Someone who made things feel... less scary."

Reki swallowed. "You do that for me, too."

They turned to face each other at the same time, and for a split second, it felt like the entire world had narrowed to this one quiet moment on the ramp. Just them. Just this.

"I'm glad we met, Reki," Langa said.

Reki smiled. "Me too."

And then, without really thinking, Reki leaned his head against Langa's shoulder. Langa froze for half a second, then carefully shifted so they were both comfortable, resting against each other under the stars.

Neither of them said anything else.

They didn't need to.

The morning came gently.

Reki woke up first, stiff from the concrete but weirdly at peace. Langa was still leaning against him, eyes closed, his breath soft and even. The blanket had half-fallen off them during the night, but Reki didn't care.

He looked at Langa's sleeping face—his messy blue hair, the relaxed curve of his lips—and smiled.

Yeah, he thought, tucking the blanket back over them both.

This might've started as a joke.

But it was one of the best nights of his life.