Renga Oneshots

Snowboarding

Reki swore he wasn't afraid of heights.

He really wasn't. He could drop into a halfpipe without blinking. He could race down a hill so steep it made Miya whistle under his breath. He could even stand on top of the old S tower and look down without his knees shaking too much.

But airplanes?

Yeah. That was a different story.

The hum of the engines vibrated through his chest, the cramped seat squeezed his knees, and the tiny oval window showed nothing but clouds that looked way too close.

"This is fine," Reki muttered to himself, gripping the armrest so hard his glove squeaked. "Totally, absolutely fine."

Beside him, Langa was staring out the window with the relaxed serenity of a kid watching a snowflake fall. "It's really pretty from up here," he said softly.

Reki turned his head—slowly, so the turbulence he imagined in his mind didn't tip the plane over.

Langa's forehead was resting against the window, blue eyes reflecting the white sea of clouds below. His hair fell softly around his face, and he looked peaceful. Happy.

And Reki couldn't help it—his chest loosened just a little.

"...Glad one of us is enjoying this," Reki murmured.

Langa blinked and turned toward him. "Are you nervous?"

"No."
He was absolutely nervous.

"Reki." Langa leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. "You're holding the armrest like it owes you money."

Reki glanced down. His knuckles had gone pale. "It's... a comfortable armrest."

"Mm," Langa hummed, unconvinced. "Do you want to switch seats? I don't mind sitting by the aisle."

"No way!" Reki blurted. "I—I want you to have the window. I know you like seeing the sky and stuff. It's... your thing."

Langa smiled—softly, gratefully. "Thanks."

Reki tried not to melt into his seat. He succeeded. Barely.

A flight attendant passed by offering snacks. Reki reached for them just to have something to do, but the plane shuddered slightly as she walked away.

Reki went rigid.

Langa noticed instantly.

The autopilot calmness on his face shifted into something concerned. "Hey," he said quietly, "you okay?"

"Yep!" Reki squeaked. "Just turbulence. Normal. Super normal."

Langa tilted his head. "Do you want to hold my hand?"

Reki short-circuited.

A soft pop rang in his ears. His heart practically did a kickflip.

"Wh—wh—what?!"

Langa didn't seem embarrassed. He just offered his hand, palm up, warm and steady. "It might help. My mom used to hold my hand when I was scared to fly."

Reki stared.

Then stared more.

His brain was gone. Empty. The flight attendant could've walked by handing out free skateboards and he wouldn't have noticed.

"Only if you want," Langa added, voice gentle and a little nervous. "I don't mind."

Reki swallowed. Hard.

"...Okay," he whispered.

He placed his hand in Langa's, and—

Oh.