WRITING MY FIRST SK8 FIC ON AO3!
Summary: Reki's life is too safe and too boring for his taste. Langa is a little bit accident prone.
The redhead with overflowing good luck finds a change of pace in his day when he runs into an accidental prone boy with stitches and blue hair.
He can't remember the last time something bad happened to him. If ever. His whole life has been one big winning lottery ticket, and he was sick of it.
Where's the excitement? Where's the adventure? Where's the danger? What does a paper cut feel like?? He's never been injured before, and it was just stupid! Even little kids get scraped knees whenever they run around at a playground, so why can't he?! If a four year old can do it, why can't he?? It wasn't fair! He was very much entitled to have scraped knees, too!
Why he even bothers complaining, he has no idea. Just an after thought he ponders after another sickeningly sweet dreamful sleep when his mind regains his conscious after another long, uneventful night.
Was he not allowed to have nightmare either? Seriously!
He guesses he should be used to this by now. There's never been a day where Lady Luck was not by his side. When he woke up, so does the day. Sunlight filters in through his blinds, and the birds chirp happily like they were in some kind of movie.
He had no problems going to the bathroom, as usual. He stares lazily at the reflection of his bright amber gaze with little to no bags or dark circles, despite being up until three A.M. Not even a vestige of exhaustion emerged from the way his tanned skin glowed in the mirror. His wild red hair stuck out in all different directions, just the way he likes it. In some way, he thanks Lady Luck for that, for not having complete control over his untamed appearance.
With a quick wash, he sports his signature blue and white band over his head. His bangs tuck in neatly underneath, just barely poking out from his frame over his eyes. He throws on a loose sweatshirt and baggy shorts, layering his top with another shirt that was a size bigger than his lithe figure.
When he climbs down the stairs into the kitchen, it was almost too much of a disappointment. Nothing was broken. Nothing was missing. He doesn't even counter any fires while making breakfast. A shame, truly. That was even more ridiculous, he barely knows how to cook! All he had to do was watch one YouTube tutorial on how to, and bam! It was like the breakfast just magically makes itself!
Well, maybe not exactly. But Reki still finds it annoying that he manages to always be able to cook something on the first try without even a smidge of mess on him.
He wants to be covered in an explosion of flour! Like in one of those failing cooking shows!
At least that means he doesn't have much to clean up afterwards. This good luck streak really pertains to his lazy streak.
While eating his breakfast, he stares blankly at the infernal wooden board leaning idly against his wall. Its bright yellow and haphazard colors glare back at him mockingly. Why?
"Hey, you," Reki mutters incoherently, his cheeks stuffed with food like a chipmunk. "I love you, so why can't you give me the one thing that I want?"
Expectantly, his question was met with silence.
"How come I never once ate it whenever I ride you down a hill or something?" Reki continues to ask, poking the skateboard's intricate design with his foot. "Gimme scraped knees."
Reki hums considerably. "Then how about scraped hands?"
Reki pouts pleadingly at his skateboard. As if it was going to grant his wish if he gave it puppy dog eyes. At times like these, he was really glad he chose to live alone after high school. Who knows how many embarrassing things he's done that his sisters would have blackmail on.
Beaming with a small grin, Reki pillows his cheek against his fist. He closes his eyes with a sigh, and laughs to himself. "Skateboards can't talk."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
