Renga Oneshots

Shattered Wheels and Shattered Hearts

The sound of wheels on concrete had never sounded so hollow. Reki leaned against the cold metal of the half-pipe, arms wrapped around his knees, and stared at the streaks of light that the neon lamps cast across the ramp. Every mark on the surface felt like a scar, a reminder of the race that had just ended—and of the argument that had followed.

It was supposed to be a victory. Adam had challenged him and Langa, and they had both pushed themselves to the limit. But victory had felt empty. Reki had lost—by a hair, by a fraction—and Langa's quiet disappointment had cut sharper than any rival could.

"Reki..." Langa's voice broke the silence. He stepped closer, but the words hung in the air, tentative and heavy. "Are you okay?"

Reki flinched, turning his gaze to the floor. The board beneath him felt like a burden. "Yeah," he muttered, but it was hollow. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his shirt, mind racing faster than any skateboard could carry him.

Langa's brows furrowed. He knew Reki better than anyone. He could see it—the storm behind his friend's eyes, the tremor in his hands. But he also knew that Reki hated being pitied. So he stayed silent, waiting.

The truth was, Reki wasn't okay. He hadn't been okay since the race began. Adam's calculated cruelty had gnawed at him. The whispers of doubt, the sneers, the way every fall felt amplified in his mind—it all stacked into a pressure he couldn't shake. And now, looking at Langa, he felt guilty. Guilty for being weak, guilty for letting the loss get under his skin, guilty for the argument that had erupted in the locker room afterward.

"I—" Reki began, but the words stuck. Langa had crossed his arms, looking both worried and frustrated. "You let him get to you. You... you pushed too hard, and then—" Langa's voice cracked slightly, "you didn't even talk to me afterward!"

Reki swallowed hard, chest tight. "I... I didn't mean to..." His voice broke. "I just... I needed to be alone, okay?"

Langa's jaw tightened. "Alone? That's your answer for everything now? You can't just shut me out, Reki. Not after everything!"

The words hit Reki like a punch to the gut. His vision blurred, and he looked away, eyes stinging. He wanted to explain, to tell Langa about the storm inside him—the shame, the anxiety, the anger he couldn't release—but the words wouldn't come. He felt trapped inside himself, a cage made of fear and frustration.

"I... I can't... I can't do this," he whispered instead, the sentence barely audible. His hands shook, and for a moment, it felt like the world was tilting.

Langa stepped closer, reaching out, but Reki flinched back. "Reki..." he said softly, voice trembling. But even that small gesture felt too close, too much. Reki turned and ran, leaving the sound of Langa's stunned call echoing behind him.

Hours passed. Days passed. Reki didn't answer texts, didn't pick up calls. He skated alone at night, racing down empty streets, chasing some illusion of release, but the darkness followed him. Every trick, every fall, every push against the asphalt was a reminder of his failures. He started skipping meals, skipping sleep, ignoring the world that kept pressing in. Langa's voice haunted him, not because of anger, but because of disappointment—and Reki couldn't bear it.

Finally, Langa showed up at the warehouse where Reki usually skated. The night was cold, the kind that cut through jackets and skin, but Langa didn't care. He found Reki crouched at the top of the ramp, board at his feet, staring at the shadows.

"Reki..." Langa's voice was soft but firm. "Please... talk to me."

Reki shook his head, tears threatening to spill. "I don't... I can't."

"You're not okay," Langa said, more statement than question. "I can see it. And hiding from me—or everyone—isn't going to fix it."

Reki laughed, but it was hollow, broken. "Maybe I don't deserve to be fixed," he muttered, voice cracking. "Maybe... maybe I'm just... too much."

The words hit Langa harder than anything else could. He took a step closer, heart aching. "Reki... you're not too much. You're... you're human. And I—" He stopped, swallowing hard. "I care about you. So much. But you have to let me in. You can't just push me away every time things get hard."

Reki's hands trembled. He wanted to believe him, desperately, but the fear inside him was a roaring tide. He couldn't let Langa see how fragile he felt. Not when he felt like he was crumbling from the inside.

"I... I can't," he whispered again. "I thought... I thought if I left, maybe... maybe it'd be easier for you. Easier for both of us."

Langa's heart broke. "Reki... leaving isn't the answer. We're supposed to be in this together. You and me. We fight, we fall, we get back up. That's... that's what we are."

But Reki shook his head, tears streaking his face. "I'm... not the same anymore. After the race... after Adam... I'm... I'm not good for you. Not for anyone."

And in that moment, Langa knew. He had always hoped, always believed they could face everything together—but Reki's walls were too high, the storm inside him too fierce.

"Then... I guess this is goodbye," Langa said quietly, his own tears slipping free. He turned, leaving Reki on the ramp, alone with his pain. The echo of his footsteps was deafening.

Reki stayed there long after Langa left, knees pressed to his chest, board clutched tightly. The city around him felt distant, the world muted. He wanted to call out, to beg Langa to stay, to tell him he was wrong—but the words wouldn't come. All he felt was emptiness, and the gnawing sense that he had destroyed the one person who truly saw him.

That night, Reki skated harder than ever before. Faster. Riskier. Every trick a desperate plea for release, every fall a punishment he felt he deserved. But the more he pushed, the more the emptiness inside him grew. And by the time the first light of dawn touched the city, Reki was exhausted, broken—not from the board, but from the weight of his own mind, and the love he had driven away.

He didn't know if he'd ever forgive himself.

And he didn't know if Langa would ever forgive him either.