Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Reki was a vivid dreamer. 

Which could be a good or bad thing, depending on how you looked at it. He didn’t sleep much as it was- couldn’t afford to when there was always something better he could be doing. But whatever dreams he did manage to have ended up leaving some sort of impact. 

Sometimes, he dreamed that his skateboard had wings or scales, and he would skate out into the sky or along the ocean’s floor- dreams like those were always good inspiration for board designs. Other times, he was being chased by muddy monsters down a steep, deserted path. Or he was dressed in a ball gown, fleeing from “S” cause the clock had struck midnight. 

It was always something unexpected, always something new and weird. So he didn’t think anything of it when he had a super, duper realistic one. It felt so solid, so distinct, from the light sheets that were tangled over him to the whispering cold of the unfamiliar bedroom he was in. And when he reached an arm out in front of him, it was long and pale, morning sunlight dipping between each flexed finger of his nearly translucent hand. It was blinding. Quiet. The room gray. And a phone face up on a nearby nightstand had dates and notifications in an entirely different language. Although faintly, faintly familiar. 

Then Reki woke up- and promptly forgot it all.

***

If allowed to, Langa could sleep the whole day away. 

For him, sleeping just helped him... get away. It was oftentimes the only thing that could comfort him after a long day at school followed by a shift at Donald’s, the fast-food restaurant he worked at. He knew his mother was concerned about his being tired all the time and not going out much. But as far as he was concerned, that was the norm for him. For the most part.

Langa’s dreams were simple. He dreamt of snowboarding- usually with his dad. And of setting sail on vacation to some sort of hot spring. Occasionally, he’d dream of being dressed all in white and coming across a glass skateboard that made pathways of ice. But nothing too unusual. Nothing notable, anyways. 

One night, he dreamt of something different from the blurred settings and the rehashed memories. It was incredibly realistic, too, from the large red bangs obstructing his view to the wooden coziness that made up an unfamiliar room, skateboards lined up along a shelf, and skating posters scattered on the walls. And when he sat up, slowly, he felt an ache in his left arm and held it up, tanned and muscled, to discover that his forearm was wrapped in bandages. It was… strange. And it was loud. Wherever he was, it was lively, the hollering of young girls coming from somewhere outside the room. As he strained to listen, he thought of his mother when he realized it was Japanese that he could faintly hear.

Then Langa woke up- and didn’t remember a thing.

Chapter Text

A few weeks later, Reki dreamt of it again. 

He sat up slowly this time, using his long, pale arms to peel the sheets from his legs and shuddering when they met brisk air. It was super, duper realistic too, the way he swung his legs, also long and pale, over the side of the bed and could curl his toes against the rough, off-white rug. 

Reki was actually shocked at how much control he had over his body. Usually, his dreams were full of unstable thrills and ended when his ability to fly, or even run, started slipping, like his body was giving up on him. But in this dream, he could stretch his arms over his head as he yawned. And when he rubbed his eyes, he saw the typical colorful dots and splotches that sprung from the darkness behind his eyelids. 

Figuring that this dream was some sort of maze he had to escape, Reki clambered to his feet and put his hands on his hips. He looked around some, his gaze shifting incessantly from the gray walls to the desk, to the nightstand until it snagged to the right- and his jaw dropped. 

Across the small space was a bookshelf leaning against the wall, but only the bottom half contained any actual books. The top half was filled with dusted trophies, the flipping golden figures covered in specks and lint atop their blue, sparkling pillars. Hanging above them was an assortment of medals, gold, silver, and bronze, just as rusted but still catching the morning light that poured through the window. 

It was like a… heavenly altar or something. 

“Awesome,” Reki breathed. 

So… apparently, he was some sort of famous champion in this dream? Oh man, would there be a crowd of screaming fans outside waiting for him? He grinned. Only one way to find out. Curiosity and a tinge of giddiness spurring him onward, he toed across the hardwood floor and peeked out of the room. Before him, a narrow path stretched to another gray wall, doorways circling around from the left while a stairway in the center of them led to the right and down below.

Just then, a shifting clatter rang from somewhere on the lower level and Reki yelped, practically jumping out of his skin.

“Langa? ” A voice called. "Is everything okay?”

The voice was sweet and warm. Concerned, even. But Reki had no idea who they were or what they just said. For all he knew, whoever was down there could have the voice of an angel and still be some monster ready to slay him or- or eat him alive.

And Reki didn’t feel like participating in either of those activities. 

Steeling himself, he straightened. “Alright, alright, I can do this, I can do this,” he muttered. 

Holding his breath, Reki gingerly stepped out into the hall, shoulders hunched as he slowly closed the door behind him and winced at every creaking sound it made. Once completely shut, he heaved in relief, then pressed his back into the wall, slinking along it like a poorly trained spy. After a few more awkward, shuffling steps, he reached the door that stood directly in front of the stairwell. Whatever was on the other side would surely be something like a portal to another dimension. Or maybe a cliff that he’d have to make sure he didn’t fall over. Well. Something to get him out of here.  

“Langa?” The voice called again.

Reki jumped- because the voice was closer now. Too close. 

Sinking with dread, he slowly pivoted to find a middle-aged woman standing at the bottom of the steps. She had chestnut brown hair tossed over one shoulder and she was gazing up at him curiously with caring brown eyes. From the way she hugged her pink cardigan around herself and tilted her head in confusion, Reki figured she looked harmless enough. Just like any other middle-aged woman- 

No! 

That’s exactly what they want you to think! 

Reki went stiff, blinking stupidly back at her. He had enough common sense to know that she could shed her disguise at any second and pounce, tearing him limb from limb. And he would really like to avoid that if he could. So on that thought alone, he whirled back around, shoved open the door, and tumbled inside before slamming it behind him.

“Langa, sweetheart, are you alright?" 

She was saying something he couldn’t understand again. And her footsteps were slow in their approach, a haunting, hesitant climb up the steps- heading straight for him. 

Reki pressed flat against the door, heart leaping to his throat as he realized that this was way worse than a chasing dream. At least in those he usually had his skateboard and a fighting chance to get away. Now he was just stuck here. Trapped.

Light headed with panic, his eyes darted around for an escape- from the cool tiled floors to the curtain on his right, to the mirror on his left, to- 

The mirror on his left???

He stumbled forward. “What the hell??”

A rapping came at the door- the woman, again, prodding gently, “Langa, are you okay in there?"

Reki said nothing. He was too busy staring at his reflection. 

Because staring right back at him was a boy he’d never seen before in his life. 

In this dream, Reki was… handsome. Snowy blue hair fell past his ears, sticking up in some areas and yet- he reached up to paw through the strands- it was incredibly soft. From underneath short, thick lashes, a set of sharp, aqua blue eyes blinked back, widening and squinting whenever he did. His build was a little taller and he could tell by the way his wrinkled t-shirt hung from his body that his shoulders were broader, too. When he reached out to touch the cool glass, one pale, lanky arm reached out at the same time. And when he pinched his pale cheeks, squishing his face between each hand, he actually felt the pressure of it, the skin turning pink from his touch. 

“Goofy,” he said under his breath. This was one weird dream. 

“Honey?” 

Reki flinched. 

That woman was still outside the door, her voice muffled, unintelligible except for the few English words Reki could finally pick out- but couldn’t piece together. “I know things have still been tough lately.” A long pause ensued with hesitant shuffling. “But if you need anything, I want you to know you can talk to me.” She almost sounded… sad, pausing heavily once more before her footsteps padded away. 

Reki didn’t know what she said, had no idea, really, what role she had in this dream of his, but the dejected tone in her voice made him wilt with sympathy. Sure, there was a 50/50 chance that she was a monster zipped up in the body of a woman, waiting to pounce and chase him till he woke up- but Reki figured that was a chance he would have to take.

Gingerly, he wrapped his fingers around the doorknob, breathing out a slow steady breath. 

At least if she chased him he’d wake up soon.

The thought as reassuring as it could be, Reki yanked the door open and stepped out. 

***

A few weeks had passed until Langa had that dream again.

For a while, he simply lay there, squeezing his eyes shut and flashing them open again, all in an attempt to will himself awake. Searing hot sunlight was gushing over him, nearly red behind his eyelids. That- coupled with the thick blanket he was suffocating under- finally had him sitting up to wrench the covers off. Langa’s feet sank to meet the soft tatami mats below, and, anchoring himself over the bedding to stand, he was actually glad to see the lack of bandages on his tanned forearm. Then he noticed the increased number of band-aids wrapped around almost every single finger and sighed.  

In this dream… Langa must’ve been some sort of tough, hardened jock. And all the scars on his hands must’ve been from, like, cold-blooded fights or something.

Which was an incredibly ill-fitting role for someone like himself, but a dream was a dream.

Langa hummed thoughtfully and looked around, from the bookshelves crammed full of art supplies to the wooden desk facing the sun-lit window. A sketchbook was lying on it face up, morning light showering over its flipped open pages. But before he could step closer for a better look, the door to his right was slamming open- causing him to jump in surprise. 

“Reki,” a girl called out in exasperation. “Mom told me to tell you that you’re late for school, again.” 

Langa only blinked at her, completely lost. He’d often had dreams where others spoke in Japanese, and sometimes in those dreams, he was as good a speaker as his mother. But he couldn’t remember ever dreaming up any actual names or unfamiliar faces. The girl looked to be younger than him, dressed in a raspberry-colored pajama set with muted red pigtails swinging from either side of her head. Yet the way she stared right back at him, flat and unamused, made it clear she was not to be treated as such- or he would clearly suffer the consequences.

After a dragging silence, the girl eventually sang, “Don’t blame me when you’re la-ate.” With that, she slammed the door shut.

Langa released a heavy sigh. He wasn’t particularly interested in the direction this dream was going. Then again… he glanced back to the bed. If he couldn’t wake up by just laying there, he’d have to do something else to make it out of here. Tripping over the strewn clothes in his path and groaning, Langa shuffled to the door and slid it open. A path of wooden floorboards led off to his right with the same strange-looking sliding doors on either side. Somewhere beyond was the sound of young girls- giggling and hollering and scurrying around. Langa followed that sound until he turned into a larger space- perhaps a living room of sorts. Instead of the tan beige-yellow color from the bedroom, the tatami mats here were a faint green, lined with elegant floral designs. On them sat two low-rising tables, the larger one resting before a low hanging T.V. 

Langa tilted his head curiously. Low tables… low T.V. Why was everything here so… low?

“Reki?”

Langa jolted and whirled to face the kitchen. There, a chubby, middle-aged woman stood with her hands on her hips- while two identical-looking little girls hollered for "Cake, cake, cake!" and ran around her legs. The woman had a sort of cozy air about her, from her short, unstyled hair to her oversized sweater that probably felt as fluffy as it looked. Her gaze, however, was set entirely on him and Langa could sense he might be in for it.

“What did I tell you about staying up late?” She asked, pouting slightly with a playful strictness to her tone. It was playful enough so Langa knew he’d gotten off the hook, but strict enough that he knew he shouldn’t let it happen again- and he found himself feeling apologetic despite himself.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, then realizing his mistake, quickly corrected himself in Japanese. “ I mean - sorry.”

She put a hand to her cheek, continuing cheerily, “Well, better late than never. Now, hurry up and get changed- and don’t forget your bento!”

Blinking at her a bit before nodding in confirmation, Langa hurried back to the bedroom. He figured he may as well play along until he woke up. Besides, a typical dream about getting to school on time wasn’t exactly new, even if he was stuck in a completely different house. Langa found the school uniform hanging up in the closet and changed quickly, fumbling some with how uncomfortably foreign his limbs felt- shorter, tan, and not his at all. But nevertheless, he powered through it. Luckily, he also found a plain t-shirt to wear beneath it instead of having to resort to one of the colorful hoodies that took up most of the closet space. 

Grabbing up the bookbag that rested by the deks, Langa returned to the kitchen. Just as the woman had said, a bento box was waiting for him on the counter. He gingerly picked it up, knowing he should quickly pack it up and be on his way but… 

“A bento box,” he breathed, completely in awe. He slipped the top off and stared at how perfectly packed it was with separate little sections, murmuring “Pretty" in his entrancement.

He’d heard about them occasionally from his mother and how she looked forward to her parents packing her one for school each day. This dream felt so real- and smelled so real, Langa found his mouth-watering. He could eat this right now, right? Would he be able to taste it, too? 

“Reki’s acting weird, again.” The pigtailed girl from before had reappeared, now pointing her toothbrush at him in annoyance. “You should start getting up with Dad if you wanna make it to school on time.”

Getting up with Dad... 

As her words slowly sunk in, Langa’s attention was torn from his bento box, his chest taking a heart-wrenching dip.

“With… Dad?” he asked weakly. 

From the way the girl looked at him curiously, Langa knew he was more taken aback than he should be- as if the man they called father was perfectly fine. 

“Yes, with Dad,” the girl scoffed. “And if you don’t get your headband from the bathroom, I’m throwing it out.”

Right. Of course. Shoving all his worried, wilting despair away as best he could, Langa nodded with determination. This was just a dream where he had to make it to school on time. Nothing else. He could at least handle that. Turning to go, he was suddenly struck with realization and pivoted back around to face her.

“Ah, where’s the bathroom?”

She frowned.

“The bathroom,” he pressed. “Where is it?”

“Are you stupid?”

Should he answer that? Did he have an answer to that? Langa shrugged. His unwavering gaze must’ve been convincing enough because the girl, dumfounded, eventually pointed behind her down the hall she’d entered from.

“Uh, thank you.” Langa nodded to her politely.

Not waiting for a response, he hurried down the wooden hallway and slid open the door at the end. The bathroom was fitted with shorter, darker floorboards, while the walls were a tinted, muted green, a glass door sealed and leading off to somewhere else. Langa didn’t have time to investigate, though, as he searched the counter and found a dark blue band with a strange white design. Headband… right? He raised it over his head to put it on, turning to face the small square mirror that hovered above the sink- and froze. 

In this dream… Langa looked completely and utterly different.

Wild, red hair was spiked up around his head, so unmanageable-looking that he lowered the headband, knowing for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to fit it over correctly. Big amber eyes gazed at him under incredibly long lashes- so long they brushed his tanned cheeks with every time his eyes fluttered closed, then popped wide open. He was a little shorter and his build a little smaller. When he raised an eyebrow, the boy in the mirror raised one back. And when he twisted from side to side and put a hesitant, calloused hand to his cheek, the boy twisted around and raised a hand, too.

This was... He was... 

“I’m-” he reached up to the mirror, band-aids puckering as he touched the cool glass- right where his fingertips stopped and the striking image began. What was that name they kept calling him? Ray… Reh... 

He tilted his head and exhaled softly.

“Reki?”

Chapter Text

Anddddd the dreams kept on happening. 

Reki did his best to get used to the new surroundings. He often stuck his tongue out at mirrors whenever he passed them (or struck a pose, or made a face) and cracked a wide grin, still in disbelief that the handsome boy looking back at him copied every move.  

When getting ready in the morning, Reki wore a white button-up beneath a formal beige jacket and a red and black tie that he couldn’t fix up quite right. It was crooked and loose but after struggling for a while, the middle-aged woman always came over to help and teased that it was one of those days again.

It was comforting to know she wasn’t a monster zipped up in a woman’s body. He figured if she was, she probably would’ve attacked or eaten him by now.

Despite having come to terms with most things, Reki still couldn’t help but feel weird not having anything in his hair, especially when he had those two strands that fell in around his eyes while the rest framed his face- long, blue, and soft like snowfall. So he searched the bathroom drawers until he found one, this one thinner and completely black, and threaded it through until his hair was mostly pulled back, a stray strand still falling down across his cheek which he brushed to the side. 

Then he flashed finger guns at himself before heading out. 

At school, Reki’s head spun, dizzy and overwhelmed because just about everyone spoke English. Which was the class he was barely passing. This also made it pretty hard to read whatever notes he found in his locker. Notes that just kept on coming. Geez.

So… he was popular? Or something like that? Reki couldn’t really tell. He assumed he might be somewhat well known since that heavenly altar back in the bedroom was full of snowboarding trophies- and c’mon that was so freakin cool it had to count for something. But while everyone greeted him in the halls and girls giggled when he walked past them, he felt sort of… isolated. There was no one who seemed to know him well enough to actually approach him. It reminded him of that bursting ache he got in his chest when he had a new board idea that he wished he could ramble about to someone despite the guys at his school not wanting much to do with it. But even so, this- this was different. There was concern in the eyes of his teachers whenever they flitted over him. And there was a certain way they repeatedly ignored his obliviousness when all he did was doodle in his notebook and occasionally look around in mild confusion. 

Luckily, in one of his classes, there was Ema, a pretty, black-haired girl who sat by Reki and was fluent in Japanese. She was also his co-worker at Donald’s- the fast-food restaurant he spent an unreasonable amount of time at. From the fast-paced ordering and food wrapping and serving, Reki would’ve been fired if it weren’t for her translating instructions and helping with nearly every task. Being the absolute genius that he was, he’d come up with the excuse that he was practicing his Japanese all the time… just cause…? And she readily went along with it as if it were their own little game. They had a good thing going. And there was obviously some sort of unspoken attraction between them by the way she kept gazing at him. It was cute. 

That’s just how it went. School. Work. Ema? And the woman, Nanako, asking strange questions Reki wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. 

***

Langa just couldn’t get the hang of this. 

He got teased by some guys at school for looking completely different even though he was wearing the same school uniform as them. Though he figured the rest of their dumbfoundedness was fair when he said he got lost on the way to school and had to ask for directions. Never mind the fact that he walked instead of… taking a skateboard... ? Which was something else they pointed out before proceeding to ask if he was okay. 

To make matters more complicated, he worked part-time at... Dope Sketch? Yet another place filled with skateboards beside his bedroom. Luckily, the manager, Oka, seemed to notice that he was out of it and said that he could just stick to the register and clean up. Langa found some peace in being able to quickly and quietly ring people up like back at his own job, or keep to himself as he swept the floors. 

Unfortunately, that peace was quickly interrupted on the nights they visited “S.” An abandoned mine just for skateboarding... yeah, Langa didn't really get it. But no matter how often they went, it was hard not to stare at nearly everything and everyone who crossed his path. Including a young, green-eyed boy who always called him "Slime" and told him to pick his jaw up off the ground. But when Langa asked with genuine concern where his parents were, that seemed to make things worse. Langa also couldn’t help staring at two other skaters who repeatedly stole the show and were always accompanied by screams of adoration. Cherry, a pink-haired man who called his skateboard ‘Carla.’ And Joe, a tan, buff, green-haired man who was always bickering with him. 

Langa watched it all with wide-eyed curiosity. Skateboarding must’ve been... his life. From the doodles in his sketchbook to the shop in his garage to the entire layout of his room to Dope Sketch and “S”. It was everywhere- everything. And everyone seemed to know it, too. 

It was sort of thrilling. 

Thrilling in a way where it reminded him of how snowboarding used to make him feel.

***

“I DID WHAT!?”

Reki stood behind the counter at Dope Sketch, staring at Miya with his mouth hanging open. It was a sunny afternoon when Miya had showed up at his job, asking pretty rudely what the freak accident of last night was. But Reki couldn’t remember a thing- not last night, nor how he’d gotten a freshly broken arm. 

“I tried to stop you,” Miya said pointedly. “But you just HAD to duct tape your feet to the board.”

Reki blinked dumbly before croaking in disbelief, “And that’s how I broke my arm?”

“No, that’s why you looked ridiculous,” Miya retorted. “You broke your arm because you tried that huge flip at the end and landed right on it.” He snickered. “I mean, did you even hear yourself?”

Reki huffed, not sure if he wanted to know but knowing he had to. “What did I say?” he groaned.

“Something like ‘i’m not used to this body,” Miya said with a snort. “And then you asked for directions back to your house so Joe had to drive you home. Honestly, you’re such a slime it’s hard to watch sometimes.”

Choosing to ignore that slime bit since there were bigger things to worry about, Reki just scoffed. “Yeah, ok, man” he muttered. “Sure, I did.”

So maybe he had no explanation for his now broken arm that had literally just healed, but duct taping his feet to the board? Reki wouldn’t even dream of doing that. Still, he did find it weird that the guys at school were teasing him about forgetting his skateboard- as if Reki would ever, ever do such a thing. And for looking completely out of it the entire school day while lacking his signature headband- something else Reki would never, ever forget. 

And boy, did Koyomi rag on him. 

“You’ve been acting like a real idiot lately,” she said matter of factly. “Don’t get me wrong, you act like an idiot every day, but how do you forget where the bathroom is? And sometimes you act like you’ve never seen a bento before in your entire life.” She sniffed and walked away. “Weirdo.”

Reki could only offer up helpless shrugs and clueless head shakes as everyone continued to pile on about his strange behavior. It got to a point where Reki, himself, was getting frustrated, so when he sat down with a huff at his desk, whipping through his sketchbook, he nearly missed the note that was scrawled there.

Nearly.

Reki quickly flipped back and stared, wide-eyed, at the terrible, practically illegible handwriting sprawled across a single page: 

‘Who are you?’

The next day at “S” he pulled Miya aside for a serious talk.

“Dude, did you write this in my notebook?” He held it up, the page with the terrible handwriting on display. 

Miya looked at him flatly. “Is this some sort of prank?”

“No, no, that’s MY line,” Reki hissed, shoving the notebook forward into Miya’s face which Miya swatted away. “I asked my sisters and my mom and the guys at school but…” he shrugged in defeat. “No one knows.” 

And it was seriously starting to freak him out.

Looking him up and down and perhaps realizing that he was serious, Miya sighed. “First of all, I’m insulted that you’d assume that was me when my handwriting looks way better than that. And second of all-” -he pointed right at Reki, eyes flashing with certainty. “It was probably you.”

Reki paused to process. Then pointed to himself. “Me?!”

Miya shrugged. “Everyone knows how you’ve been acting super weird lately. Like on the days where you don’t wear your headband, it’s like you’re sleepwalking or something. So you probably wrote it and forgot you did.”

Realization finally setting in, Reki dropped his notebook and went rigid with fear as his eyes grew wider and wider.

“No,” he whispered. “No way, it can’t be.”

Miya wrinkled his nose. “It can’t be what?”

Reki seized Miya by the shoulder with his one good hand. “Don’t you get it?” he cried. “I’m being POSSESSED by a GHOST.”

And Miya stared at him for so long before walking away that Reki was sure he was right. 

***

“It looked like this.”  

Sitting on the couch, Langa had flipped open a small photo book filled with snapshots of his mother’s childhood home. While the house was completely different from the one in his dream, the pictures contained similar-looking low-rise tables. 

“I keep having dreams that I’m in Japan,” he explained. “It looks just like this. Well. Mostly.”

“I see…” Nanako said faintly, leaning over his shoulder. “And you’re sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Because some days you act a little… ” She straightened, fidgeting with some of her hair. 

Langa looked up at her blankly. “A little what?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She put a hand to her cheek with a warm smile. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. And I’m surprised you’re so adamant about practicing your Japanese.”

Langa frowned. “I… am? ”

She laughed. “You were insistent that we speak only Japanese to each other so you could practice.”  

“I- what?”  

He had no idea what she was talking about. Not that he didn’t want to practice. But he was better at speaking English. And he certainly didn’t remember telling her anything about only speaking one or the other.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Nanako reassured. “Don’t worry about it.” She leaned down and kissed him on the head, murmuring softly, “It just made me very happy, that’s all.”

Langa watched her walk away, brows scrunched in confusion. She’d been making strange remarks as of late, teasing him that on days he wore a headband and forgot how to tie his tie, he was completely different. 

Even more strange was the black-haired girl from work and school being in on the Japanese practice thing. And she kept side-eyeing him with strange looks, blushing and mentioning that she enjoyed hanging out with him and Langa only nodded in response. If she considered work and school hanging out, then sure. Okay then.

But perhaps the strangest thing of all was when he tried to take notes in class and found page after page covered in doodles- of, what, skulls, and ocean waves, and skateboard measurements and designs? How was he supposed to focus with all of this? And more importantly, who could’ve done it? No one at school, that was for sure. And his mother definitely wouldn’t. 

There was only one explanation. Thinking back to the art supplies in that skateboard theme bedroom- it had to be the redhead from his dreams.  

So he wrote a note in his notebook on a fresh, new page where he was sure the redhead would see: 

‘Who are you? My name is Langa and I think we’re switching places a few times each week. I’m not sure what causes it, but I’m pretty sure we only switch when we sleep. Or at least I do. What do you think?'

To which the redhead did not respond. Instead, he drew doodles and question marks all over that page. So Langa tried again, this time double-checking with some help on google translate to make sure it was understandable: 

‘We are switching places.’

Luckily, this finally garnered a response: 

‘Dear Ghost, please stop possessing my body.’

Unamused, Langa wrote back:

‘I am not a ghost. And you are possessing my body, too. Are you a ghost?’

After some reasoning, Langa managed to convince the redhead that neither of them were, in fact, ghosts. And after some complaining about his handwriting, Langa agreed they would type their notes to one another on their phones so they could easily translate back and forth. There, they would leave reports or messages about their switches, working together to keep their lives intact. 

And, getting increasingly frustrated with one another, they laid out some rules, the redhead with his own:

• Don’t be late to Dope Sketch!!
• No duct taping your feet to my skateboard are you out of your mind???
• If you’re gonna skate at all, at least learn how before you break my other arm

And Langa had his own as well:

• No doodling all over my stuff
• Don’t make me get fired from Donald’s
• No hair accessories they make me look weird

And thus, the switches continued...

Neither boy completely sure what they were getting into, but both entirely unaware of what was to come.

Chapter Text

For Langa, the biggest change was getting used to how often they interacted. 

With this… situation… it was the most messages he’d ever sent and received back and forth. Constantly, too. Sure, he had text conversations with his mom, but they never dragged on for too long since they could just speak in person the next time they saw each other. And he’d certainly never texted anyone else that much, except for the occasional group project for class or from a relative sending happy birthday wishes. 

Now, he was switching bodies with some boy in Okinawa, Japan. Which meant he was waking up each morning, checking to see if the hand stretched out in front of him was his own, or one that was tanned and riddled with every color of band aids imaginable. It also meant that, when he eventually did wake up in his own body, he was quickly reaching for his phone and scrolling back through his dated notes, checking to see how badly the redhead had messed up this time. 

Reki - Great day today!! I went to school and I remembered where most of your classes were! Ema offered to walk me to all of them, though, which was super sweet of her. And get this- she said she misses the headband!! Dude!!! You should definitely wear it now that’s two against one. 

Also!! I only got yelled at at work TWICE today. Which, you’ve gotta admit, is definitely an improvement. Don’t worry, your job is safe with me!! XD

Somehow… Langa really, really doubted that. 

Even so, he made sure to leave updates in a somewhat similar manner- noting the details and other important stuff. 

Langa - Went to school. Ate lunch. It was really good. 

Went to Dope Sketch and went home. Then I ate dinner. It was really good. 

I like your mom’s cooking.

And no, I am not wearing a headband. I told you they make me look weird. 

And so on and so forth. 

The boys soon fell into a sort of rhythm, a back and forth of the day’s and events and such.

They still had their slip ups here or there:

Reki - I’M SO SORRY I OVERSLEPT TODAY AND I WAS KINDA LATE

Langa - That’s ok. I oversleep all the time.

Reki - YOU OVERSLEEP AND YOU DON’T TELL ME?!?

Langa - Do you… want to know about those kinds of things?

Reki - YES.

Langa - Ok.

I overslept today. 

But they managed for the most part. 

Reki was… interesting. At first, Langa was a little startled by him- his whole lifestyle actually. The way he ate, slept, and breathed for skateboarding. The way he still doodled in Langa’s notebooks and Langa would search for the new sketches and designs during class. And the way Reki used all those exclamation points and smiling faces in his notes. It was like his vibrant personality couldn’t possibly be dampened even in written conversation. 

And it was… different. Talking to someone like this. Or- messaging them? Langa didn’t really know the technicalities of it. But, in the mornings, instead of lying there wishing he could will himself back to sleep, he was instead grabbing up his phone and checking his dated notes- because at least it was something. 

Something he could do- something to look forward to. 

And sometimes- just sometimes- he found himself smiling faintly as he read over Reki’s humorous endeavours. 

Reki - Today was cool! I got called on in class, but Ema covered for me. Man your teachers are actually pretty chill compared to mine. I always get slapped upside the head whenever I zone out or do, like, anything :/

Oh and I think I’m starting to get the hang of this Donald’s place!! I can wrap a burger like nobody’s business :D

Actually, I’m probably better than you at this point ;)

Langa slowly sat up in bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, still wearing that faint smile. Although initially worried that his job had been on the line, he found that Reki was tenacious in his efforts to improve. He’d somehow made a game out of it, but he’d gotten better at it, too. And it took Langa by surprise. In a good way. 

Yawning and squinting against the streaming morning sunlight, he scrolled further to read the rest. But his faint smile quickly receded when he did.

Reki - So I’ve been thinking… it’s been, what, a month or so since we started switching, right? Who do you think we should tell?? I’d say maybe I tell Miya on my side and see how it goes and then you tell whoever you want on your side and BOOM everything is a thousand times easier! Great idea, right???

Frowning, Langa typed his response:

Langa - What. No. That’s a terrible idea. We shouldn’t tell anyone. Getting more people involved always makes things worse. 

… And… who is Miya???

However, Reki was not to be deterred. 

Reki - Dude. The kid with the bad attitude? Always calling you ‘slime’?? That’s Miya.

But why not tell someone???? Like yeah sure we’re getting the hang of things, but it’d still be nice to have someone on either side who gets it. I can’t talk at school cause I suck at English. And when I had to ask your mom for directions back to your house, she freaked out cause she thought I had amnesia or something. No joke. She almost took me to the hospital. Don’t you think it’d be easier if she just knew?? 

Yeah right.

Langa - No. No way. I’m not telling my mom about this. She would lose it. Like she would really really lose it. Imagine her freaking out over amnesia, but like ten times that. Besides, would you tell your mom?

Reki - Hell no. 

Okay. 

I see what you mean. 

But still!! It doesn’t have to be our moms, I would just tell Miya instead. It might take some convincing and he’ll probably whine and complain when you ask for his help, but it’d be better than nothing. Miya can definitely cover for you whenever you need help :D

And be honest!! How many times have you gotten lost or had to ask about something that should’ve been super obvious??

Langa - … Well… one of the first times we switched, I asked your sister where the bathroom was. 

Reki - OH YEAH haha I figured that one. She wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. 

But don’t worry, the first time we switched, I actually thought your mom was a monster trying to eat me XD

Langa - …

Why would you think that…  

Does she look like a monster to you?

Reki - NO OF COURSE NOT I JUST THOUGHT IT WAS A DREAM. You didn’t think it was a dream in the beginning?!!??!

Langa had. So- fair enough. 

Reki - Ok. Next switch, we tell our respective people and catch them up to speed. I tell Miya and you tell Ema since she could probably guess anyway.  

Commencing Operation Body Swap Allies!!! XD

Here, Langa hesitated- wanted to interject once more. He knew Reki had good intentions and had likely thought a majority of things through, but… this was different. This wasn’t just any old “secret.” They were… swapping bodies. Something like that wasn’t exactly gonna go over well- if at all. As far as he knew, body swapping was something left strictly to fairy tales and old school movies. Not in real life. Not between some random person in Canada and someone all the way over in Japan. 

Still, Langa didn’t really have it in him to say no to “operation body swap allies.” And though he wasn’t even remotely close to Ema, the proximity of her being a family friend was better than nothing. 

So it looked like they were actually doing this. 

Which meant he probably shouldn’t have been all that surprised when Miya sidled up to him upon their next swap, Langa standing idly by and watching the skaters at ‘S’ before realizing he was being watched rather closely.

“Let me guess,” Miya said, looking him up and down. “Today, your name is Langa.”

Langa startled at this, having gotten used to being called ‘Reki’ in this setting, then turned to look the boy up and down in return. Folded arms, unamused gaze, and a half smirk that said ‘humor me if you dare.’

Kid with the bad attitude…?

“You must be… Miya.”

“Oh my god. So you’re both dumb.”

Langa only stared before his eyebrows slowly inched up in surprise. Both? “Wait, you- you believe him?” He asked tentatively. “Or- us?” 

“Hmm- believe is a strong word. Let’s just say I wouldn’t rule it out entirely.”

“What… do you mean?”

Miya sighed and leaned against the rocky wall behind them, ticking off each item with his finger. “First of all, Reki’s too much of an idiot to be able to pull off such a consistent, long term prank. He’s such a slime he’d slip up eventually. Second, there’s no way he could’ve skated like that in the race when you broke his arm at the end. And third, there’s no way he would’ve forgotten everything there is to know about skateboarding.”

Oh yeah. That. Tilting his head, Langa recalled the several times he’d been asked about skateboards back at Dope Sketch and the way he’d simply shrugged in response. He didn’t have a clue about designs or different board types, much less how to make one himself, and he’d gotten used to the frustrated huffs people gave whenever he stared back blankly- until Oka came rushing over. 

So that was a fair point.

“Plus, there’s forgetting how to get back to your own house,” Miya added. “And the way you guys walk, talk, and dress is completely different. I don’t think I’ve seen Reki wear anything besides those ridiculous rainbow hoodies. So yeah. I wouldn't rule it out.”

Langa looked down at himself, plain t-shirt and school uniform pants, shorter, tanned arms resting at his sides- it still felt a bit dream-like despite how real he knew it all was. 

“You’re right,” Langa reasoned- more so to himself if anything. He figured if he knew how Reki acted in person, it probably wouldn’t have been so obvious. Then maybe he could’ve tried to at least act the part. But unfortunately, any assumptions about Reki’s behaviour were contained to the notes he received from him and the accusatory comments others made when he wasn’t acting… ‘Reki’ enough. Which he probably wouldn’t anytime soon, so he refocused back on Miya. 

“So you’ll… cover for me then?” Langa asked. Or at least that’s how Reki put it. He wasn’t even really sure how this was supposed to go.

Miya scoffed. “I make no promises. It’s bad enough I have to deal with the slime, himself. And now I have to deal with you in the slime’s body? I’m still a minor, you know, and that’s a full time job- which is hardly legal.”

Taking that as a probable yes, Langa hummed and leaned back against the wall to mull it all over.

But- slime? That was the nickname Miya kept using. Which meant that Reki was what exactly? Langa wasn’t too good with the Japanese language. Was it actually an insult? Or a specific kind of compliment? A term of endearment or maybe an inside joke?

Wanting answers despite himself, Langa let out a hesitant breath before the next words came tumbling out. “Are you and Reki- ah- friends?”

At this, Miya paused before scoffing again. “He’s a slime. I’m just damage control.”

“Then is that… a no?”

“Oh my god-" Miya was a little pink in the face now as he glared at Langa, as if trying to size him up and shut him up in the same breath. "Yeah, sure, we’re friends," he snapped. "Do you have any more dumb questions?”

Langa nodded. “How did you guys meet?”

And, clearly not expecting such a straight forward response, Miya dropped the judgmental look and sputtered for a good few seconds before regaining his composure. And when he did, he sighed rather dramatically, looking off to the side as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

When he finally spoke up, his voice had less bite to it, sounding probably the softest Langa had ever heard of it since they met. “It's not that big of a deal.” Miya shrugged. “I guess I was kinda… skating alone at the time… and skating it wasn’t really… fun either. But then, Reki came along and just kind of…” he gave another mild shrug, gesturing out in front of him before returning his hand to his pocket. And although the movement was vague, Langa felt he somehow understood- at least partly. How Reki just ‘came along’ in a way that was hard to describe.

“And yeah,” Miya concluded. “He said he’d never… disappear from my sight. I guess. And so… that was that.”

It was a small story, really, just the smallest of an explanation, but it sounded comforting the way Miya talked about it. And when Langa turned to study him, he found a soft, faraway look in the boy's eye as Miya gazed at the ground, along with a small smile that was gentle and fond- definitely in contrast to his typical sharp words. It was probably the first smile Langa had seen of him, too. 

So… Reki must’ve meant a lot to him. And that vibrant personality that couldn’t be dampened, that’s probably what had Miya talking so warmly about it. Like, his friendship with Reki was comforting, and also precious, but perhaps in an unexpected way, too. Where Reki just ‘came along’ and yet… it was still sort of hard to believe that he had.

“I think I get it.” Langa nodded and managed a smile. “That’s really cool, Miya.”

Miya quickly snapped up to look at him, startled and even more pink in the face, before he scowled and looked away, tugging at his cat-eared hoodie as if trying to hide behind it. “Geez- do you even get how weird it is looking at Reki's face even though I’m talking to someone else? Cut me some slack, will you?”

“Oh," Langa said, though not sure how he could fix that sort of thing. "Sorry.”

“God- you guys are both so stupid, it’s no wonder you’re switching bodies. You’re practically made for each other.”

And well- not nearly as prepared for such a remark as he should've been (should he have been?) Langa found himself choking on his own words. He coughed and then coughed again, flushing because that was a weird thing to say, wasn’t it? Something so blunt and unprovoked and- and completely out of nowhere. “No, we’re-” He swallowed. “No, we’re not.”

Recovering from his own pink-flushed embarrassment and perhaps latching onto his, Miya side eyed him. “Oh, are you sure?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Positive?”

“Yeah..”

“Well whatever.” Miya pulled a gaming switch out of his large hoodie pockets, focusing all his attention on that. “None of my business, anyway." He perked up. "Oh! And speaking of... "

"Yeah?"

"I’ll run you over with my skateboard if you tell Reki I said any of that stuff earlier. You got that?”

At this, Langa stiffened. Cause even though he didn't know much about him, Miya really struck him as the kinda kid who said stuff and meant it.

So Langa faced forward, suddenly sweaty, and nodded. “Got it.” 

Langa - Today was good. I got to class on time. 

We had a test, though, and I definitely failed. 

Then I went to Dope Sketch. And weird guy with a painted face came looking for me so I hid in the back. 

Then I went to ‘S’ and talked to Miya. And he agreed to cover for me. I think. 

Reki - Aha!! So Operation Body Swap Allies was a success!! 

What did Miya say? He didn’t give you too much of a hard time, did he??? I’ll get on him about it if he did. Miya talks tough but he means well.

Langa - Nope. He didn’t say a thing. Not a word. 

And thus, they continued with their swapping, Langa now with Miya by his side. And though he did whine and complain as Reki had warned, Miya also leapt into conversation when Joe and Cherry questioned him too much, showed Langa where he could find the best poutine, and explained that the man with the painted face was actually named Shadow, a fellow skater and not some sort of murderous stalker. 

And with each swap, Langa found himself looking forward to getting back to his own life more and more. Just so he could read over Reki’s updates and flip through his school notebooks, searching for the new doodles and designs and drawing his own mini stars by his favorite ones. Which turned out to be all of them since Reki was an incredible artist. 

As it turned out, Reki had just… come along. And maybe it wasn’t the same because, instead of meeting him like normal, they’d met each other pretty- unnaturally. Forced rather harshly into each other's lives and flailing around, struggling to adapt. But now they’d pretty much adapted.

And now Nanako was asking what Langa was smiling at when he stared too long at his phone upon reading a new update from Reki. Now, his mother gave him more kisses on the forehead and conversation between them flowed more easily because she was glad that he felt better and Langa, well... he actually did feel a little better. Better than he had in months.

And now, Langa found himself studying the kanji that prefaced each of Reki’s messages, then flipping to the very back of his own notebook and writing Reki’s name over and over - for practice of course. Because Langa's handwriting in Japanese was terrible, so why not practice it with Reki’s name?

Lately, Langa found himself saying why not to a lot of things. 

Reki - YO did you paint my nails??? 

I’m not judging, it’s cool and everything!! I was just wondering cause I was so confused when I woke up and found them all painted XD

But hey you should paint your own nails too! Like if you ever wore.....  oh I don’t know a HEADBAND or something…  then you could paint your nails the same colors to match. That’d look awesome ;D

It was another bright and early morning when Langa was still laying in bed, studying Reki’s message, smiling and not even knowing that he was. His thumbs hovered above his phone screen before typing out what had actually happened. 

Langa - No, I didn’t paint your nails. Your sisters just gave me a makeover, they put stuff in my hair and painted my nails. Or- your nails. And I forgot to wash it off. 

But then Langa stared at it some more, brow creasing, before he found himself deleting it all. Because... Reki had to know, right? That the messy nail-painting job had actually been his younger sisters and not him. So was Reki just... choosing to ignore it? And what did that even mean if he was?? 

Or- was Langa being an idiot and reading too much into this?

Probably.

Either way, he typed out a new message, and set his phone down rather quickly, not quite sure why it sent jitters through his body, why he squeezed his pillow to his chest, imagining what the response could be upon their next swap. 

Not that it mattered- but he couldn’t help looking forward to it all the same. 

A headband… right? What was the harm in that?

Langa - Okay.

What color?

Chapter Text

Reki’s experience with getting adjusted was… a little different from what he imagined Langa’s experience was. 

Perhaps because, instead of soaking in the world around him, Reki felt like he was grasping at the fragments that made up Langa’s life. Little shards of glass that he was slowly collecting, all laid out in the palm of his hand but still drifting, disconnected in his mind. It was only recently that Langa had changed a bit of his tune, though, talking about more than just food in his notes and finally agreeing to get a headband that matched his nails- which had delighted Reki more than it probably should’ve. Still, it meant he was getting somewhere. Which only made him all the more motivated to fit those pieces together. 

Plus, although previously terrified out of his mind due to a certain ghostly misconception, Reki eventually became excitable about the whole body swapping thing. Could you really blame him? It’s not every day he got to wake up as someone else- that someone being a super handsome, popular-but-not popular, Canadian snowboarding champion Prince.  

And sure, maybe Reki didn’t know the logic of it, or the science, or the fancy fantastical reasons behind their situation- but he wasn’t gonna let that stop him from living his life to the fullest. Or- his and Langa’s life? Their lives??? Whatever- all he had to do was make sure that both their livelihoods stayed somewhat intact. 

Which- at the moment- meant finding a better form of communication. As it turns out, typing up notes on each other’s phones was pretty inefficient since it could take a whole week just to have one conversation. And that became especially unhelpful when there were things like last-minute questions and events that popped up out of the blue.

Of course, Reki had already figured all this out and made a plan of sorts. Miya, however, still managed to get on his ass about it- as Miya typically did.

It was another evening before ‘S’ when Shadow begrudgingly agreed to take them out for fast food (thanks to another one of Miya’s threats). And now, with Shadow in the bathroom, Reki had to deal with the boy’s sharp tongue himself. 

 “So.” Miya poked around in his salad- because of course, he got salad at a fast food place. “What I’m hearing is- you don’t have his phone number?”

Great. This again. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” 

“No, actually, I feel like you don’t know.”

“Look, I was gonna ask, alright?” Reki fiddled with a fry between his fingers, anxiety twisting around in his stomach and thus sapping his appetite. “I just don’t wanna… y’know… ” He waved his hand around.  

Miya scoffed. “You don’t wanna what?”

“I don’t wanna make it weird!”

Miya gave this response a generous pause, staring a hole through Reki as he did so. Then he finally spoke up, slow and even and sounding incredulous as ever. “You’re swapping bodies with someone and you’re worried about exchanging phone numbers being the weird part? You’re kidding, right?”

“Well, when you say it like that it sounds dumb!” 

“Oh, really? Does it? I wonder why.”

“Fine, fine, I get it already!” Reki waved him off. He knew he'd gotten worked up and anxious over nothing, but it kinda made him feel funny, the thought of being able to talk to Langa in a more consistent way. It made his face sort of tight and warm and hard to control, like the grin that sprung there. Well, hey, maybe Miya was right. Reki rubbed at the back of his head and looked off to the side, feeling a little warmer. “I mean, I know it’s more reasonable, too,” he continued,  laughing lightly, a bit relieved. “So, if you say it’s not weird then…”  

Miya hummed thoughtfully, looking him up and down, then up and down again. “Nevermind,” he said. “It’s weird.”

Reki snapped back to him. “What?!”

“You’re making it weird.”

“How?!”

“You’re making a weird face, therefore, making it weird.” Miya pointed his chopsticks at him. “Maybe fix your face and then we can talk.”

“Oh, shut up!” Reki reached across the table and pinched at Miya’s cheeks, squishing them so his lips puckered out- then he gave an evil laugh. “Ha-HA, who’s making a weird face now?” Miya could only hiss and swat at him.

So, Reki supposed he couldn’t completely blame Miya for picking up on that- if the funny feeling was showing up on his face. But could Miya blame him? Langa was a cool guy. Aloof and sorta blunt and with his own personal brand of weirdness, sure, but still- interesting. He’d broken Reki’s arm, yeah, but Reki had seen the footage. Langa was a beast at skating. So it was only natural that Reki didn’t wanna seem uninteresting or uncool in return. 

With that, he gave Miya’s cheeks one final pinch, then ducked out of the way before he could get clawed to shreds.

Then he proceeded to get Langa’s number. 

And he texted Langa first. Just to get things rolling.

And he texted it at a reasonable time, too, he would say. Around noon. 

Then he waited. For the rest of the day. Wondering if he should’ve phrased “yo, this is Reki” differently, or if Langa even understood what “yo, this is Reki” meant, or if the message had come off as just a statement and not something he actually wanted a response to.

By that night, Reki was just about ready to chuck his phone out the window and run over it with his skateboard as he swore off text conversations with any other human being ever- until the screen finally lit up with a message.

Well then.

Reki made a face in the dark to no one but himself, then sighed and set his phone down on his desk. Maybe it was too soon to swear off texting completely.

One thing was for sure- this was definitely gonna take some getting used to. 

In the beginning, things were far from perfect. And unfortunately, any hopes Reki previously had of maybe holding a longer-er-ish conversation with Langa quickly dissipated, seeing as it always took him hours to respond. Not that the guy couldn’t be busy or have a schedule of his own. Hell, Reki was Langa half the time- he pretty much knew Langa’s schedule like the back of his skateboard. And sure Langa kept his activities relatively close together, school and then unreasonably long work shifts, but it wasn’t like downtime was a foreign concept. 

So maybe Langa just didn’t keep his phone around all the time. Maybe he didn’t have his notifications on. Maybe he was the super forgetful ‘I saw this but forgot to respond’ type. Or maybe, oh that’s right, Langa hated him. 

An idea that Miya quickly dismissed. Because time zones were a thing. As Reki had forgotten in his panic. 

And time zones would actually explain why the both of them “slept in” so often, waking up in each other’s bodies sometimes mid-day, always being super late, and napping to catch Z’s whenever they could as a result. Which ultimately meant that they swapped bodies whenever they slept at all. Not just at night. Reki bristled at the thought of falling asleep in class and waking up in Langa’s bed while Langa continued the rest of the school day as him. He didn’t know if that’d be hilarious or its own sort of mini-disaster. Probably both. 

Luckily, with that misunderstanding out of the way, Reki knew to keep his phone on him and prepared to text or be texted at the worst possible times. Which didn’t deter him in the slightest. Now, with the right timing and confirmation that Langa maybe probably hopefully didn’t hate his guts, they could text freely.

One morning when Reki was waiting for class to start, sketching and tuning out the chatter of his classmates, he found himself pulling out his phone and opening his chat with Langa, figuring he’d ask a question that’d been on his mind for a while.

Langa’s response came relatively quick. Over in Canada, it had to be sometime shortly after dinner, so he must’ve been studying or cleaning up around the house. Downtime- if you could call it that.

Which wasn’t a bad reason, obviously, but there had to be more to it than that, so Reki waited for further elaboration, leaning his elbows on his desk and bouncing his knee absently. When the gray ellipses didn’t reappear, he frowned.

And because he couldn’t physically or emotionally see himself working anywhere else. The gray ellipses reappeared and Reki looked around briefly for any signs of the teacher before turning his attention back to it.

Different how, though? Before Reki could ask what that even meant, his teacher was striding in and calling for everyone’s attention, so he hurriedly stuffed his phone in his pocket.

For the rest of class, he doodled bits of Dope Sketches interior- his favorite stickers that decorated the walls, and specific skateboard designs he’d taken a liking to. He wished he had some colored pencils on him. Dope Sketch had blended into the typical palette that made up Reki’s life, still exciting of course, but one he was used to by now. So he liked the idea of it being new and vibrant to Langa. 

Now, Reki sort of wanted to see what the shop was like through Langa’s eyes- witness that same breathless rush he’d gotten the first time he stepped inside. And now, he sorta wished he’d had the opportunity to show Langa around himself so he could point out everything that made the place so special- the best way to line up the boards and stack the hats so nothing fell over, the importance of the neon, color-clashing rugs that sometimes needed to he swept twice over, the creak of the wooden stools in front of the counter that made a sound with every movement when you sat, the way you had to lean your shoulder into the back door just to get it open. 

Maybe Reki could’ve shown him to the backroom where he tinkered with boards and did some of his best work. And maybe Langa would’ve gone on about how cool it looked. How fun it seemed. How bright and colorful it all was. 

Reki sorta wished he could. Sorta wished Langa would tell him more.

He just smiled to himself as he tilted his head and carved a wildly striped skateboard into the lines of his notebook. Bright and colorful, huh? Either way- he sure liked the sound of that. 

***

Swapping and texting was great. 

Efficient. Effective. And… a little strange. Turns out, a combination of such activities meant that it would often be the other person’s body- and phone- that you were texting from. So it was a bit jarring when Reki saw a notification of his own name flashing on Langa’s screen.

It was early morning when he sat up in Langa’s bed, the last thing he could remember being that he went straight home after his shift and promptly passed out. Yeah, his new sleep cycle- whatever it was- was something he still had to get used to as well. Because, at least for now, it looked like the naps were here to stay. Inconvenient as they were. 

Squinting against the screen’s brightness, Reki swiped open the notification to read Langa’s message.

Hm.

A straightforward answer was definitely what he was looking for.

A straightforward answer was also not something Reki could supply. 

Knowing an opportunity when he saw one, he fumbled a bit with long pale fingers, the nails now painted black- which only made him grin wider- and texted back.

Setting Langa’s phone down with a satisfied smile, Reki returned to snuggling under the covers. Some five minutes later, though, he was reaching for the phone again upon another notification.

Reki could only stare at the message for one dumbfounded second before he had to turn and press his face into the pillow, shoulders trembling as he burst into muffled laughter.

***

As time went on, part of Reki kept telling himself to chill out. 

That he had no reason to grin so stupidly every time Langa texted him a random question. That he should just go to bed instead of staying up to explain why Langa bringing poutine to Reki’s school would absolutely blow their cover. That there was no reason to feel so especially pleased at how Langa’s Japanese had gotten better, even if it was just over text. 

But some things were simply out of Reki’s control. Like that giddy, funny feeling. Which probably came from the fact that it’d been a while since he’d done this. Just texted like this with someone. And sure it was obligatory because of their situation, and sure Langa was only ever texting him out of necessity, but that was fine. It was something. 

And it was fun. 

Leaning back against a rocky wall, it was late night at ‘S’ when Reki was taking a small break from skating and, having just gained some interesting information from Miya, decided to share.

Grinning, Reki gave a fond shake of his head, seeing as teasing Langa had become one of his favorite pastimes. He tried not to push it though, just in case Langa got tired of him or sick of him or something. It’d probably be in his best interest not to annoy the guy he was swapping bodies with. And to not ruin whatever maybe-friendship this was turning out to be.

But Reki knew not to get his hopes up. 

Figuring he should reconvene with the others, he went to tuck his phone back in his pocket- until it buzzed again.

Huh. A question he wasn’t really expecting. Reki squinted at the screen, though, biting back a smile that eventually broke free anyway. What, so Langa actually wanted to know about stuff like that? He didn’t really think Langa would be the type to care about something so trivial. And besides, Reki was pretty sure he’d made it abundantly clear the first time.

Jeez, pushy much? Reki snorted, shifting his weight against the wall, rolling his neck some cause it wasn’t exactly comfortable staring down at his phone like this for so long. Not that he minded when he was texting Langa, thumbs hovering over the screen before he decided on his answer.

Well “Canadian snowboarding champion Prince” was actually the more accurate term.

But Reki decided to leave that part out. 

And so they continued like that.

Texting and asking questions, filling out the finer details of each other’s lives. And Reki was slowly assembling those little pieces of glass- Langa’s life- fragments dazzling in the way they were often so small and simple. In the way Langa wasn’t a picture-taking kinda guy and said he found it hard to capture moments like that. In the way he’d always help with dinner and had time specifically set aside for chores. In the way he'd go for runs on the weekends and would stop by the pastry shop on the corner to get something for him and Nanako. In the way he apparently didn’t have a music taste of his own, and he would listen to whatever songs Reki sent and, for some reason, had said he liked them all. 

And in that time, Reki would admire every bit, every tiny piece of Langa that he’d learned about because it’d been so long. So long since he could do that with someone. So long since someone had let him. And maybe one day he’d get too close and get cut, all sharp beautiful edges and regret, but at least for now, he figured he could let himself have this. Have fun. 

Yet even with everything he’d heard, and everything he knew now, sometimes Reki wondered if there was something he was missing.

It was around seven in the morning when he was in his garage, sitting on a stool and fiddling around with a board. The typical morning sunshine was dampened by a thick layer of fog, so Reki had the overhead lights turned on as he worked. Not really with any sort of goal in mind, but more so absently, because fiddling with boards and keeping his hands busy was soothing in its own way. 

It might’ve been a dumb choice to be up at seven considering his sleeping routine was screwed to hell and he should really try to get any rest that he could. But he couldn’t help being an early riser, considering mornings were one of the few quiet moments he could afford in his household. Downtime- if you could call it that. 

As Reki pulled out his sketchbook, however, his mind drifted back to swapping and Langa and Canada- and how Canada was nice and all, but would be so much better- wayyy better- if Reki had a board he could get around on. 

Then, like one of the overhanging light fixtures, an idea popped into his head. A genius idea. One he hadn’t even considered and he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t.

It must’ve been some time before dinner in Canada, or maybe he was making dinner now? Either way, Langa replied only a minute after.

Cause not only would that be the coolest thing ever, it’d also be wayyy more efficient. Reki leaned his elbows on the table with hunched shoulders, grinning as he began to imagine it. The logistics of it would need some working out. Langa could probably use one of his spare boards until he built a new one- which he most definitely would. Of course, he’d build a new skateboard for Langa, that was, like, a given.

But Reki’s excitement was quickly stuffed with a frown upon reading what came next. 

Reki hummed, brows pinching with confusion. This was sort of… unexpected. Or at least he thought so. Not that Langa couldn’t be the type of “humble” that was downplaying one’s own talents. But it just didn’t seem… him.

Okay, well, now Reki sort of felt like banging his head against the wall.

“But why?!” Reki muttered, holding his phone a little tighter. Sometimes, texting Langa was like pulling teeth. It’s like he only ever texted half of what he wanted to say. Or half of what he really should say so Reki could make some goddamn sense out of it. Like come on! He wouldn’t even be so frustrated right now if Langa would just tell him what he meant from the-

It took a moment to process. A very silent, confusing moment. All Reki could really do was stare at the message. That’s what this was about? Someone as reckless and talented as Langa didn’t want to skate again. Just because of that.

Good god. Reki let out a low sigh that shuddered a little at the end. And his leg was bouncing now. Nerves. So he sighed again, this one a little steadier, sitting up straighter as he did so. Okay. Well. For one thing, this sorta felt like deja vu. Because Langa had definitely apologized before. But somehow… this time felt a little different. Not that Langa didn’t mean it when he apologized the first time. But with him bringing it up again- and going as far as refusing to skate- it almost had this… tinge of concern to it. Something like... care.

Or something like Reki psychoanalyzing the hell out of a single text. 

Yeah, he should probably get back to bed. 

Reki stood abruptly, stool rattling behind him, not bothering to clear off the table as he reached upwards. He missed the light. Twice. His heart was definitely not in his throat. And when he finally pulled the cord to turn the light off, he yanked so hard he thought it might break off into his hand. God. That funny feeling was back and Reki didn’t really know what to do with it. 

But- respond. He should at least respond. Yeah. That. He could do that. 

Reki focused back on his phone, completely in the dark now except for the flashing screen and the pale fogged light from the windows before him, his thumbs hovering and fiddling in the air until he finally texted back.

His chest kinda hurt. This was weird, wasn’t it? Reki’s fingers moved quickly again before Langa could respond and interrupt him.

Langa’s response was so fast, Reki almost laughed, all nerves dissipating at his clear eagerness.

Of course. Reki sort of felt like he was flying. Cause- that? Langa skating? Wanting to skate? That was practically music to his ears.

Or- art to his eyes or whatever. 

Feeling a little better, he went back to grab his sketchbook, then made his way out the garage, traipsing through dew-kissed grass before letting himself back into the house. Luckily, his mother seemed to be dealing with the twins in their bedroom and Koyomi was nowhere in sight, so he was able to quietly make it back to his own room and shut the door behind him. Where he promptly flopped onto his bed and sighed as loud as he could. 

That whole conversation felt like a narrowly missed train wreck somehow. He’d never really been so uncertain or caught off guard texting Langa. Frustrated, sure. Confused to all hell, definitely. But not that. And it wasn’t like that anything Langa had said just now was specifically shocking or whatever. But still. 

It felt like some other little glass piece he’d hardly seen coming. One that fit in among all the other pieces yet didn’t quite make it all whole. 

Something was still missing. And for the life of him, Reki couldn’t figure out what. 

Sprawled out on his back and staring at the ceiling, Reki was turning those tiny bits and shards over in his mind, hardly laying there for a minute before his phone buzzed and he was hurriedly pulling it out of his pocket.

Well, Langa was especially talkative today. Which Reki didn’t mind at all. He tried to keep that funny feeling under control this time as he quickly texted back.

This time those gray ellipses faded in and out for a while.

Reki hummed thoughtfully, rolling onto his stomach and propping up on his elbows as he thought it over. He’d never really given it much thought besides a few dangling questions here and there. Questions that really just ended up as background noise while trying to actually keep up with the whole thing.

As far as he knew, there wasn’t much explanation for it.

Those gray ellipses faded in and out and in and out again, like Langa’s uncertainty was edging up, right through the screen.

Reki tapped his fingers lightly on the sides of his phone, thinking and thinking and searching for something to say. He was curious about it, sure, but apparently not as much as Langa. But if Langa wanted all this to mean something, that was fine. Fun was Reki’s reasoning behind everything and besides, that’s what really kept him going. Kept him together. Maybe Langa needed something like that.

Reki was grinning again, a little bright-eyed, and a little warm all over as he texted quickly after that.

Reki couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He was definitely coming up with a name either way. Maybe run some ideas by Miya and see how long he could go without getting insulted into oblivion- as Miya often could do.

Ahh, things really were coming together, weren’t they? That only left one more thing.

Reki scoffed and rolled his eyes, though his smile gave it all away.

Flopping flat on his back, Reki didn’t know how long he waited, anticipation buzzing through his whole body. Maybe he waited a minute. Maybe several minutes. Maybe a goddamn eternity. He didn’t have to be so excited, honestly, should he really be this excited? His chest felt kinda light. Airy. Like he was breathing but he kept having to sigh it all out just so he could weigh himself down and not float away. It was only a picture. Anyone could take a picture. How long had it been? How long did he wait for?

In the end, it didn’t really matter. Cause when his phone finally buzzed, Reki was rolling over and snatching it right up as if to recover all lost time. And he was already grinning again, scrunching his nose and holding the phone closer to his face when he finally clicked on the photo so it filled the screen. 

It was a selfie. A mirror selfie. The bathroom lights were flashing dots along the top of the photo while the rest of the image only showed Langa’s upper half before the counter cut in.

And standing in the middle of it all was Langa himself, holding up his phone and looking as adorably awkward as ever. 

While one hand held the phone, the other was raised in a tentative peace sign as if he was doing so out of god-forsaken habit and not active intent. He had on that long white sleeve shirt with the thick black lining on the sleeves, one of Reki’s favorites and god Reki couldn’t help but laugh, breathless, in pure delight cause Langa’s nails were still all black, and that thin headband had a majority of his hair pushed back, save for those two front strands.

But perhaps the most amusing thing of all was Langa’s expression. His head was cocked a little to the side, gaze lingering on his phone and his lips were slightly parted like he might say something, yet one of his brows was sort of pinched inward- like he wasn’t sure if he was doing this right. Even so, his cheeks were dusted pink, pretty and faint, and there was a whisper of amusement ghosting across his face- a faint rise in his cheekbones- as if there was a smile hidden somewhere in there and Reki would just have to work harder to bring it out. 

God.

“Ahh man, so this is you,” Reki said softly, his smile even softer, face all warm, and his tongue lilting over the word- “ Langa .” He was holding his phone and laying out on his stomach as he looked and looked- well, he was probably staring. Observing, really, but still. Staring. How could he not? Reki had only ever seen Langa when he was Langa. When he was the one fixing up Langa’s hair or straightening his tie or picking out a casual outfit for the day, finger guns flashed at the mirror with a grin that was still his own.

He’d never seen Langa as Langa. Not until now. Not until Langa was standing there awkwardly and holding up the shyest peace sign Reki had ever seen, with a maybe-there smile, maybe hopefully maybe. And now more than anything- Reki wanted to see that smile for himself. 

Even with everything, he’d heard, and everything he knew now, Reki had wondered, sometimes, if there was something he was missing. Some sort of glass piece that he’d somehow missed over and over again. But as soon as he saw that picture, it all sort of clicked. Not all at once. And certainly not all there was to it. 

But with this picture of Langa, it felt like all those little glass pieces had melded and filled out into a stained-glass window. Catching the light like some sort of glimmer of the truth that this was real life. Real-life pouring through every delicate shard, snowy blue and sharp aqua and pretty coral pink. The very mixing of a wild ocean and the soft, open sky. Perhaps the mystery of the horizon in between. Or maybe- just maybe…  it was a little more than that... A little more bright. And a little more colorful.

A little more Langa.