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“I’m serious, Reki. Hit me. Fucking hit me.”
And that’s something the Langa of four months ago would’ve never imagined saying. Especially not in the context of huffing stuff to get high, numb and dumb, anyway.
Reki does as asked, pulls the computer duster can away from his lips and drops it in his lap to then lean forward and land a hard slap to the side of Langa’s waiting face.
“Oh my god! I can’t feel anything.” He exclaims through a giggly huff - uncharacteristically - words slurring as his body jolts backwards slightly when the effects of Reki’s harsh contact sets in. Just under the surface of the slapped skin arises a light tingling sensation - not nearly as painful as it would be if he was sober - which only works to make Langa’s high feel all the more sensational.
They’d read about huffing computer duster to get high online somewhere as Reki was unable to get a hold of any dealer - all the plugs he’d been set up with not returning sneaky calls in school hallways or suspiciously coded emails and text messages from a burner phone - and, thus, didn’t have anything on him.
Langa had actually been the one to suggest computer duster - had heard through the grapevine at school about how great being high really feels. That’s when Reki’s casual weed usage came into play. But at the news of him having absolutely nothing, they decided a quick google search would answer their desperate needs.
Because, obviously, without access to weed or anything alike, they had to be smart about it. Surely there were everyday items you could get high from - Langa had thought. As long as the chemicals wouldn’t be toxic enough to kill the both of them, anything like a cleaning product would surely work. And he wasn’t wrong, because that’s how they found out exactly what they did about computer duster.
They’re both antsy - rocking back and forth as Reki inhales more of the duster - tan fingers pressing desperately into the red button. He passes it over to Langa again, but Langa doesn’t put it to his lips like he had been, instead dropping it into his lap like Reki originally had and leaning forward slightly. “Again. Do it harder.” Langa begs through his high, pupils incredibly dilated by now. His lips turn up into a smile. “Don’t be a pussy.”
Reki obeys once more with a half-assed smirk on his face. He brings the same hand up and hits it hard against his best friend just like before. Langa jolts more than he did beforehand, causing him to almost go flying backwards - hard, though not hard enough, making it so he was just able to avoid hitting the wall behind his bed.
“Oh shit.” Reki passes a comment, seemingly caring, though less-so when you remember they’re high. He reaches over into Langa’s lap, fingers quickly moving to curl over one of his exposed, pale calves before grabbing the computer duster all over again. He brings it up, almost to himself, but quickly changes his mind. Instead, he maneuvers himself in a way that allows him to press the nozzle to a recovering Langa’s lips, wet with saliva. “Open wide.” He commands through a giggle, extending vowels no thanks to his drug-induced slurring.
Langa does as he’s told, knows what to expect, yet still shudders when Reki’s spraying it into his mouth. His throat burns. His lungs burn.
He feels like his brain is going to explode.
“My head. I can- like- hear popping.” Langa’s words are still slurring, though worse by the time Reki is pulling the can away from his lips and straight to his own, inhaling even more. The can makes noises, slightly loud, but so much louder considering everything else is completely silent, save for the light sounds of the TV playing in the front room. Langa’s mom is home. They know they have to be careful with their volume. Langa’s mother trusts him though - knows he’s a good kid - but he can only feel slightly guilty that he’s betraying her in such a way. And, oh, his dad. What would his father think about this?
He’s snapped out of his thoughts very quickly, however, when Reki is finally letting the can drop into his lap and he jolts at the feeling of cold metal against his shins. His eyes move to gaze around the room, pupils uncontrollably darting between the teenage-typical decor before finding their way back to Reki. “Pop. Pop. Pop.”
Reki, after a desperate show of hogging the can, ends up bursting out laughing at the realisation. “You- you know what that means, right?”
“It’s- my brain cells.”
“So long, ‘honours student Langa’.” Reki replies before laughing once more, Langa quick to follow suit as both boys fall into one another: foreheads touching, knees pressing together.
They pull back just as quick as they moved into one another, however, with Reki retrieving the can he’d only just dropped and inhaling even more duster.
“Don’t- don’t inhale too much, you’ll die.”
“Shh- just-” Reki’s speech is breaking up, brain unable to articulate what he wants as well as it was able to not even an hour ago. “Do it.”
And so, Langa does - brings a hand up to Reki’s face and slams it against his cheek, doing it once more when Reki begs. It hurts – undeniably. Reki takes longer to settle than Langa does, but that’s because Langa’s more used to it than he is. The redhead brings his own hand up to his face and holds it there until he’s able to turn back around to face his best friend again.
Langa reaches for the duster all over again - inhales more - and then insists Reki hits him. Again. But even harder. “Punch me.”
Reki doesn’t even hesitate, just goes for it. He balls his fist up and smacks it directly into the side of Langa’s face, hitting against his cheek bone. Langa makes a small noise of assumed discomfort as it happens, but the shock really sets in when Langa is finally sent flying, though not backwards this time. He is, instead, launched head first into his bedside table, his face slamming gruelingly against the wooden surface. His lip splits as a result and because of this, he takes longer to sit up, instead bringing a finger to his lip just to touch where he feels a burning sensation arise. He pulls it back to see a puddle of crimson red against the pad.
“L- Langa?” Reki actually sounds concerned, launching himself forward and gripping at the material of Langa’s jeans, though that concern is very short-lived when Langa finally turns his head so his hair falls past his shoulders, allowing for Reki to see his face, laughing at the other with the back of his head still rested against the table.
“I’m not- I’m not that weak.”
“But- Pain? You’re bleeding.”
“Mmh. I guess- it does hurt. A little.” But it doesn’t hurt as much as it probably should. Maybe his nerve cells are being killed, too. He’s too far gone to give a shit though.
Reki moves in to touch it when Langa finally does sit up, feeling the blood warm against his finger tip, even more so when he’s pressing the finger harder into this gash. Langa mewls, shudders, though settles when Reki gives him a short break, instead tracing his finger over the seam of where Langa’s mouth is closed. The blood that covers the tip of the aforementioned finger seeps into his mouth. The taste of his own blood is a little gross, he must admit.
Langa can see it out of the corner of his eyes, his main focus being Reki himself. He’s pretty - Langa’s unsure of how he’s never noticed that before. His eyes are a pretty amber colour though the colour in question is now obscured due to how dilated his pupils are, they’re glossed over, a little red, puffy as if he’s been crying; his lips are turned up into a mischievous smile, though teeth occasionally visible as if he’s fighting back a subconscious grimace; his skin is slightly tanned, a gorgeous colour, though probably less tan than it could be considering they’re now in such a cold climate compared to Reki’s hometown (from what Langa has heard, anyway). It’s probably just his drugged-up daze making him think such things. But Langa can’t say he hates it. And, well, he does have the opportunity to taste the other. Sure, maybe it’s his fingers, but a taste is a taste at the end of the day.
So, like a sudden impulse, Langa opens up for Reki and, fortunately for Langa, Reki does not hesitate to stick that same finger into his friend’s mouth. Langa cradles Reki’s finger with his tongue - swirls it around until it’s over.
Reki’s fingers are drenched when he pulls them out, and so, he decides to have a taste for himself. It’s like he’d been reading Langa’s every thought. Those fingers that had just been in Langa’s mouth are soon in Reki’s mouth, and he’s lapping at them like a hungry kitten.
He’s not thinking straight. Neither of them are thinking straight, so when Reki is straddling Langa, Langa doesn’t protest. He just lets it happen. Reki reaches behind the both of them to grab for the computer duster and presses it to Langa’s lips just like earlier, though forces the nozzle in, wondering if it’ll get him even higher, even faster, because there will be no way for any of the duster to escape now. But, when he presses the trigger, Langa’s choking. And so, he’s quick to take it out and throw it behind the both of them again.
“Shit, sorry.”
Langa doesn’t reply though, instead holds one hand against the back of Reki’s head and forces him down, just enough so the tips of their noses are touching. Reki leans in, pokes his tongue out and licks at the bloody mess of Langa’s split lip. Langa shudders, even more so when Reki’s pulling up and allowing him to see the dark red that’s colouring the tip of his tongue, contrasting that of the soft pink. He sucks it into his mouth after a few seconds and Langa feels his stomach doing kickflips. Kickflips, just like Reki had taught him to do on the board not even a few days ago. Then, he’s leaning down and pressing an incredibly quick peck to his lips before pulling back up all in the same second, smirk very visible on his face.
But before anything further can happen, Reki climbs off and is back to sitting cross legged across from the other.
The all-too-familiar sight of Reki’s lips pressed against the nozzle returns just as quickly as it’d left.
“Ok-okay-“ Reki starts before he can even bring himself to pull the can away, rushing a little as he readjusts his position. “Punch me. Hard. Really hard.”
Langa seems to hesitate, unsure of tainting something so beautiful by making it so bloody, but does when Reki shouts. “Do it!”
The punch ends up hitting him in a way that launches him off of the bed, forehead slamming straight into the vinyl flooring as he falls. Langa yelps - worried for the other as he can only watch as Reki tumbles.
It takes him a minute to process everything, and it’s only when his mom is yelling “Dinners ready!” that he scurries off of his bed to cradle Reki’s partially-unconscious body.
“Reki.”
“Reki.”
“Reki!”
Langa wraps his arms under Reki’s own and starts pulling him up, hoping it’ll wake him up at least slightly. “Reki, please.”
His eyes flutter open after a few minutes of shaking, and when Langa notices, they’re both rushing around his room in a drugged daze, trying to find things to cover up their gashes with.
“That was awesome.”