Engaged?

For two years, Reki had worn the ring Langa gave him, thinking of it as nothing more than a sentimental farewell gift—a symbol of their friendship before Langa left for Canada.
Unlucky for him, the rest of the world saw it differently.
Everyone thought he was married.
-
Or; Reki doesn't know he's engaged.

Work Text:

Reki had never really thought about the ring.

Okay, that was a lie.

He thought about it a lot. More than he probably should. But it wasn’t like that—he wasn’t some lovesick idiot clinging to a piece of jewelry for sentimental reasons. It was just… a cool-looking ring. A simple silver band, nothing too flashy, but solid and well-worn. And, yeah, maybe he liked the weight of it against his skin. Maybe he liked the way it felt when he spun it absentmindedly with his thumb. Maybe he liked the memory of how it ended up on his finger in the first place.

Langa had given it to him two years ago, right before leaving for Canada. It had been one of those weirdly emotional moments where everything felt too big, too final, and Langa—stoic, deadpan, perpetually unreadable Langa—had pressed it into Reki’s palm with an almost sheepish look, mumbling something about always finding their way back to each other.

Reki had barely been able to process it at the time, too busy trying to keep his face from crumpling like a kicked puppy. So, instead of thinking too hard about what it meant, he’d just shoved the ring onto his left ring finger—because that was the one it fit best on—and called it a day.

Fast forward two years, and he was sitting on his dorm bed, staring at his roommate in utter horror as the consequences of that decision came crashing down around him.

"You seriously didn't know?" Kenta asked, looking at him with the kind of expression one usually reserved for dumbasses who didn’t know how to use Google.

"How the hell was I supposed to know?!" Reki shrieked, holding up his left hand like the offending ring had just personally ruined his life. "I thought people just—just didn’t like me!"

Kenta snorted. "Dude. Everyone thinks you're married. Like, devoted, childhood-sweetheart, waiting-for-your-husband-to-return-from-war married."

Reki's stomach dropped. "That doesn’t even make sense!" he groaned, throwing himself back against his pillows.

Kenta just smirked, leaning back in his chair like this was the funniest thing he'd ever witnessed. "Yeah? Then why do you wear it on your ring finger?"

"Because—!" Reki started,

Oh.

Oh shit.

His gaze snapped to his hand, to the familiar silver band that had been there for years.

He’d been wearing it on his ring finger.

This whole time.

Like some guy pining for his long-lost fiancé.

"Fuuuuck."

Memories started hitting Reki like a truck.

The way his coworkers had never once asked if he was single. The way that cute girl from his English class had immediately backed off the moment he’d casually mentioned, "Oh yeah, my best friend gave me this before he moved away." The way literally no one had ever flirted with him, asked him out, or even tried.

Because they all thought he was taken.

Because of this stupid fucking ring.

"Oh my god," Reki breathed, sitting up so fast his head spun. He grabbed fistfuls of his own hair, tugging as if that would somehow undo the last two years of his life. "This is why I’ve been a fucking virgin this whole time."

Kenta, meanwhile, lost all sense of dignity and absolutely howled with laughter. He clutched his stomach, wheezing, his chair creaking with how violently he rocked back. "Damn, bro. You cockblocked yourself for two years."

"Two years," Reki groaned, flopping back against his pillows like his soul had just left his body. "Two fucking years! I thought—I genuinely thought—I was just unfuckable!"

Kenta swiped at his eyes, still grinning. "Dude, you are fuckable," he reassured him. "People just thought you were off-limits. That, or they assumed you were one of those guys who’s, like, creepily obsessed with his husband and refuses to even look at anyone else."

"I don’t even have a husband!"

Kenta shrugged. "Well, you do now. Who's the lucky guy?"

Reki flopped back down with a groan, dragging his hands down his face. His voice was muffled when he muttered, "Langa."

Kenta blinked. "Wait. The Canadian dude?"

Reki lifted his left hand and wiggled his fingers in the air. "The Canadian dude."

Kenta’s eyebrows shot up. "Okay, but, like… have you even talked to him since he left?"

Reki opened his mouth. Closed it. "Uh… yeah." He cleared his throat. "I mean. The first year. Then life got busy, and I figured, y'know. He moved on."

Kenta stared at him for a long moment, then let out a low whistle. "So you’re telling me… you’ve been accidentally wearing a fake engagement ring for two years… while not even being in contact with the dude who gave it to you?"

"Kill me," Reki groaned, flinging an arm over his eyes.

"Nah, this is too good," Kenta said, grinning. "You should tell him."

"Tell him what?" Reki scoffed, peeking at him from under his arm. "Hey, Langa, remember that friendship ring you gave me? Turns out it cockblocked me for two years, and now I'm a virgin because of you?"

Kenta wiped at the tears in his eyes. "Yes, actually. You should text him that. I’d pay to see his reaction."

Reki rolled his eyes, but the idea stuck in his head like an annoying splinter. Langa had probably forgotten about the ring by now. It’s not like it had meant anything.

Right?

Still…

He chewed on his lip before grabbing his phone, scrolling down through old messages he hadn’t looked at in months. Finally, he pulled up their old thread and typed:

Reki: yo, random question. this ring u gave me before u left. u meant it as a friendship thing, right?

He sent it.

And waited.

His heart thumped harder than it had any right to.

Three dots appeared.

Then they vanished.

Then they came back.

Then—

Langa: ...you thought it was a friendship ring?

Reki frowned.

Reki: uh. yeah??? what else would it be

A long pause.

Then—

Langa: Reki. It’s on your ring finger.

Reki stared.

His stomach plummeted.

No.

No way.

He reread the message once.

Then twice.

Then a third time, before he yeeted his phone onto the bed like it had just grown fangs.

Kenta, watching the whole thing, perked up. "What? What happened?"

Reki turned, his face pale, eyes wide as saucers. His voice dropped to a horrified whisper.

"I think I accidentally got engaged two years ago."

Reki was having a full-blown mental breakdown.

His fingers hovered over the call button, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. His brain was running at a breakneck pace, spiraling into a freefall from which there was no return. His entire life had been a lie.

Two years.

Two whole years of thinking he was just tragically unlucky in love—when in reality, everyone around him had assumed he was some devoted, long-distance married man, patiently waiting for his husband to return from overseas.

And worse? The supposed husband in question was none other than Hasegawa Langa.

Langa, who had given him this ring before leaving for Canada.
Langa, who had apparently meant it as a proposal.
Langa, who had thought Reki knew they were engaged this whole fucking time.

What the actual fuck.

Reki swallowed hard, stomach twisting itself into a sailor’s knot. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His body was hot and cold all at once, a nuclear reactor teetering on the edge of meltdown.

His hand trembled as he finally, finally pressed the call button.

The phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three ti—

"Reki."

Reki froze.

His breath hitched. His heart stopped.

He hadn’t heard Langa’s voice in years. And yet, here it was—smooth, steady, familiar in a way that made something deep inside him ache. Langa had said his name like nothing had changed, like Reki hadn’t just had his entire worldview annihilated in the last five minutes.

For a second, Reki couldn’t speak. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, his throat too tight. But then—

"Langa," he managed, and oh god, his voice was dangerously close to hysterical. "I need you to tell me, right now, if you thought we were engaged."

A pause.

A long, long pause.

Then, completely serious—"Yeah. Obviously."

Reki screamed.

"Dude."

Langa sounded almost bored, like this wasn’t the most batshit insane conversation of Reki’s entire life. "What else would it have meant?"

"I DON’T KNOW," Reki screeched, feeling like he was rapidly unraveling at the seams. "FRIENDSHIP?! A COOL SYMBOLIC THING?! SOMETHING LESS INSANE THAN A TWO-YEAR ENGAGEMENT I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT?!"

Langa let out a slow, long-suffering sigh—like he was the one having to deal with Reki’s stupidity, not the other way around. "Reki. I gave you a ring. You put it on your ring finger. You wore it for two years. How did you not know?"

"BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING!"

"I didn’t think I needed to," Langa replied, in the same calm, matter-of-fact tone that made Reki want to tear his own hair out. "I figured you understood."

"I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND SHIT, LANGA!"

"Clearly."

Reki groaned and flopped onto his bed, throwing an arm dramatically over his face like a man in the throes of an existential crisis. His entire life had been a goddamn joke.

"Oh my god," he mumbled, voice muffled into his sleeve. "I—I could’ve been dating. I could’ve been—" He suddenly gasped, shooting upright, eyes wild. "I COULD’VE BEEN HAVING SEX!"

For the first time since answering the phone, Langa actually laughed. It was a quiet, breathy chuckle, but it somehow managed to sound both amused and smug, which only made Reki’s rage intensify.

"You sound really upset about that part," Langa mused.

"BECAUSE I AM!" Reki shouted, waving his arms like an actual lunatic. "I THOUGHT I WAS JUST UNATTRACTIVE! I THOUGHT GIRLS JUST DIDN’T LIKE ME!"

"Nope," Langa said, unbothered. "They just thought you were married."

"I WASN’T MARRIED!"

"You were engaged."

"I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS ENGAGED!"

There was a pause. Then, in the smuggest voice Reki had ever heard, Langa asked, "Whose fault is that?"

"YOURS!"

Langa made a soft, unconvinced hum. "Mmm… I don’t think so."

Reki nearly launched his phone across the room. "OH MY GOD."

Langa, just waited, like he knew Reki needed a minute to process his own monumental levels of idiocy.

Then, finally—casual as ever, like he wasn’t responsible for the most embarrassing revelation of Reki’s life—he asked, "So… are you mad?"

"YES, I’M MAD!" Reki exploded, sitting up so fast that his vision blurred for a second. "I’ve been a virgin for TWO YEARS because of you!"

Langa, completely unaffected, simply replied, "That’s not my fault. You could’ve asked me anytime."

"ASKED YOU WHAT?!" Reki screeched, feeling his blood pressure skyrocket. "‘HEY LANGA, ARE WE ENGAGED?’"

"Yeah."

Reki groaned, dragging both hands down his face in utter despair. "Langa. Dude. What do we even do about this?"

Langa was silent for a beat, and for a brief moment, Reki let himself believe that maybe—maybe—Langa was finally understanding the absolute absurdity of this situation.

Then, calmly, like he was discussing the weather—"I mean… do you want to break off the engagement?"

Reki choked. "THAT IMPLIES IT WAS REAL IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

Langa didn’t even hesitate. "It was real to me."

Reki stopped breathing.

His mind flatlined. His stomach twisted itself into something sharp and painful, and suddenly, the air in his dorm room felt too thick.

Because Langa had said it so casually. So easily. Like it was just… fact. Like it was obvious.

Like he had never questioned it.

Reki, on the other hand, was losing his goddamn mind. "You seriously thought we were engaged this whole time?"

"Yeah."

"And you never thought to check if I knew?!"

"I just assumed you did."

"LANGA."

"Reki."

Reki let out a long, pained groan and flopped backward onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers to his unraveling existence. "I need to lie down."

"You already are."

"Shut up."

Langa chuckled—soft, amused, fond.

And despite his ongoing meltdown, despite the fact that his entire worldview had just been obliterated, Reki felt something warm bloom in his chest.

Because Langa had never moved on.

Because Langa had been waiting.

Because, somehow, despite everything, Langa had just known that Reki would always be his.

Reki had reached the peak of his existential crisis.

No—this wasn’t just a crisis. This was the crisis. The crisis to end all crises. The moment where his brain, his heart, and his entire fucking existence collapsed in on itself like a dying star.

Because not only had he been unknowingly engaged for two goddamn years—he was also still a virgin.

And Langa?

Langa was probably out there in Canada, drowning in girls, living the absolute dream, while Reki sat here like a pathetic loser, crying into his hands over his accidental celibacy.

"It’s not fair," Reki sobbed into his palms, voice muffled with despair. "You’re probably out there getting mad pussy in Canada, and I—I—" His voice cracked, humiliatingly high-pitched. "I haven’t even been kissed!"

Silence.

Then, after a pause—

"…Reki."

Reki sniffled aggressively. "What?!"

"I don’t want ‘mad pussy,’" Langa said, so matter-of-factly that Reki’s brain lagged. "I just want you."

Reki froze.

His heart skipped.

His breath caught in his throat.

His fingers tightened around his phone as his entire system blue-screened.

"Wh—" He wiped at his eyes aggressively, his voice cracking even harder. "WHAT?!"

Langa sighed, voice infuriatingly calm, like Reki wasn’t having a complete meltdown over here. "I’ve only ever wanted you, dumbass."

Reki stared at the ceiling, vision still blurry from his breakdown. "You can’t just—just say that like it’s normal!"

"It is normal," Langa replied smoothly. "We’re engaged."

"I DIDN’T KNOW WE WERE ENGAGED!"

"Yeah." Langa sounded entirely unfazed. "We’ve established that."

"OH MY GOD."

Langa chuckled, and Reki could hear the amusement in his voice—like this was just some minor misunderstanding instead of the most life-ruining realization Reki had ever had.

And then—

"If you’re really that upset about being a virgin," Langa continued, still so goddamn casual, "I can get on the next flight and fix that."

Reki choked.

"LANGA."

"What?"

"WHAT?!"

"You’re upset, right?" Langa asked, in that same infuriatingly calm voice, like he wasn’t absolutely destroying Reki’s brain in real time. "So I’ll come fix it."

"YOU CAN’T JUST SAY STUFF LIKE THAT!"

"Why not?" Langa asked, genuinely confused. "We’re engaged."

"STOP SAYING THAT!"

"But we are."

"WE AREN’T—!" Reki cut himself off, because technically—technically—they were. Technically, Langa had given him a ring. Technically, he had worn it.

For two fucking years.

"Oh my god," Reki whispered, because the full weight of reality was finally crashing down on him. "I’ve been engaged since I was a teenager."

"Yeah," Langa said simply. "I thought you knew."

Reki pressed his palm over his eyes, exhaling so sharply his lungs ached. "You’re insane."

"You love me, though."

"I—" Reki stopped.

Because oh fuck.

He did.

And he had this whole time.

"…Shit," Reki muttered, voice weak.

Langa chuckled again, and this time, it wasn’t smug—it was soft. Fond.

Like he knew.

Like he had always known.

"So," Langa said, "should I book that flight?"

Reki, despite everything—despite his ongoing breakdown, despite the sheer stupidity of years leading up to this moment—

He actually laughed.

"Yeah, man," he said, wiping his face. "Get over here already."

Reki had barely processed the fact that Langa was actually flying in.

One moment, they were having the most deranged, life-altering phone call of all time, and the next, his phone buzzed with a text that nearly knocked the air out of his lungs.

Langa: Landed. Be there soon.

Reki was not prepared for that.

Hell, he wasn’t prepared for any of this. He had spent the last two years thinking he was some hopelessly single loser, when in reality, he had been unknowingly engaged and accidentally celibate the whole time.

And now, somehow, that had resulted in his long-lost fiancé flying across the actual fucking world to come fix his virginity problem.

This was the dumbest, most ridiculous, most Langa-and-Reki thing that could have possibly happened.

And yet—

Here he was.

Pacing his dorm room. Heart pounding. Hands shaking. Every possible scenario flashing through his head like a movie in fast-forward.

What was he supposed to say when he saw Langa? Hey, bro, welcome back, thanks for coming all this way to devirginize me?

Oh my god, I’m going to die.

A sharp knock at the door shattered his spiraling thoughts.

Reki jumped.

Froze.

Swallowed against the sheer terror bubbling in his throat.

Then, before he could think—before he could breathe—he was moving.

Hand on the doorknob.

Twisting.

Pulling open.

And—

Langa.

Standing there, looking exactly the same—and yet—somehow better.

Messy blue hair, longer than Reki remembered, falling into those cool, unreadable eyes. That infuriatingly calm expression, like he knew everything, like he had been waiting for this exact moment. His stupid perfect face. His hands shoved in his hoodie pockets like he hadn’t just flown across the entire goddamn world for Reki.

And then—before Reki could even form a single rational thought—

Langa was kissing him.

Soft. Sure. Like he had been waiting to do this since the moment he put that ring on Reki’s finger.

Reki froze.

Then melted.

His hands—completely acting on their own—fisted into Langa’s hoodie, pulling him closer, gasping against his lips like he was trying to breathe him in.

Langa made a quiet, pleased sound—low in his throat, like he had expected this reaction all along. Like he knew Reki would never push him away.

And fuck—he was right.

Reki felt everything at once. The warmth of Langa’s lips. The steady, grounding weight of his hands as they slid up to cup Reki’s face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks with an almost obscene tenderness.

His heart pounded.

This was happening.

This was really happening.

And suddenly—every missed call, every unanswered text, every moment of stupid, blissful obliviousness—

None of it mattered.

Because Langa was here.

And Reki was kissing him back like he had been waiting just as long.

Reki had no idea how they ended up inside his dorm room.

One moment, Langa was kissing him in the doorway—soft and sure—and the next, Reki was stumbling backward, Langa guiding him inside, the door clicking shut behind them with a quiet finality.

It felt like stepping into a different world. One where nothing else existed except the warmth of Langa’s hands and the dizzying way he kissed him—deeper this time, more certain, more needing.

Reki barely had time to think before Langa was on him again, pressing him back, lips insistent, hands sliding down to grip his waist, pulling him closer like he never intended to let go.

And Reki—

Reki couldn’t breathe.

Not in a bad way.

In a Langa is kissing me and I can’t believe this is real way.

In a holy shit, I’ve been waiting for this my whole life without realizing it way.

His fingers clenched into Langa’s hoodie, holding on like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His mind was a complete blank as Langa backed him up—slow, unhurried—until the backs of Reki’s knees hit the edge of his bed.

He gasped as he fell onto the mattress, blinking up at Langa—breathless, flushed, utterly wrecked—and Langa was staring at him.

Like he was the only thing in the world.

Like he was something precious.

Reki swallowed, his throat tight. "Langa," he managed, voice barely more than a breath.

Langa leaned down, their noses brushing, his hands framing Reki’s face with unbearable gentleness. "You okay?" he asked softly, careful, checking in.

The warmth in his voice made Reki’s chest ache.

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I—God, yeah."

Langa smiled. The smallest, softest thing.

Then he kissed him again. Not on the lips this time—not yet. First, his forehead. Then his temple. His cheek. Each one slow and reverent, like Reki was something to be cherished. Like he was making up for every lost second, every missed touch, every moment they had spent apart.

And Reki—

Reki felt wanted.

Cherished.

Like Langa had never seen anyone but him.

Like Langa had been waiting just as long as Reki had.

And when Langa finally pressed their lips together again—slow and deep—whispering, "I’ve only ever wanted you," against his mouth—

Reki believed him.

Reki was floating.

He wasn’t sure if it was from the lingering warmth of Langa’s touch, the way their bodies fit so perfectly together, or the simple, mind-shattering fact that his brain had yet to fully process everything that had just happened.