#and yes. langa does eventually get to show reki what a real french kiss is 😉

[rengadyke]

Posting an excerpt from my phantom of the opera au because I feel like it 😊

Note: tenshi is Japanese for “angel,” so I thought it would make the most sense for Langa to call Adam “tenshi-sama” while he still thinks Adam is an angel sent by his dead father.

——

Langa rushes past the other players, the kuroko, even the managers, to get back to his dressing room as quickly as he can. He hasn’t had a chance to speak to the Angel since the last-minute casting change. All day he’s heard nothing but praise for his unexpected talent. The audience loves him. The cast and crew of the theater love him.

None of them matter.

Langa finally reaches his dressing room and closes the door behind him—only to turn around and see Reki already standing in front of his mirror. Langa jumps. Reki really does seem to turn invisible when dressed in all black. It’s part of what makes him a good stagehand.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Langa shakes his head. “It’s alright, I’m just a little…distracted.”

“That’s understandable. Anyway, I didn’t have time to get you flowers, but I wanted to give you something. I’ve been working on this for a while. I figured tonight was as good a night as any to give it to you.”

Reki holds out a square wrapped in plain brown paper. It takes Langa an awkward moment to realize that it’s a gift. For him.

Langa takes the package and carefully unwraps it. Inside is a painted lacquer box, much like the ones his father used to sell in Paris. Only the image isn’t a Japanese garden, but a scene from the Tuileries. Langa recognizes it from the postcard he keeps on the wall of the room he shares with Reki.

“Did you make this?”

“I guess you can tell it’s not a professional,” Reki says humbly.

“Reki, it’s beautiful.”

“That’s not all! Open the box.”

Langa does as Reki says. As soon as the box is opened it starts to play a slow, metallic melody.

“Remember the old music box we found in that secondhand shop? You said you liked the melody but the box was all moldy and ruined. So I went back and bought it and made a new box.”

Langa suspects the process was more complicated than Reki is letting on. “You’re amazing, Reki.”

“You’re the amazing one! Seriously, how did you learn to perform like that?”

Langa remembers why he came straight to his dressing room. He knows the Angel is waiting for him.

“Someday I’ll tell you,” Langa promises.

Reki chuckles. “What, is it a secret?”

“Yes.”

Reki furrows his brows at Langa’s serious tone. He sighs. “Let me help you change.” He reaches for Langa’s wig—Langa completely forgot he was still wearing it—and places it on its stand. Then he kneels by Langa’s side to help him out of his costume.

“I can do that, Reki.”

“Come on, it’s no trouble. This is my job.”

“I can do it myself.”

“You say that now, but I’m the one who has to fix the costume when you get stuck and tear it.”

“I just need a moment alone,” Langa snaps. He softens his face for Reki. “Sorry, I’m just tired after that performance.”

Reki gives him a kind smile. “Of course you are. Take as long as you need.”

Reki stands, but doesn’t turn for the door. Instead he hesitates, his face inches from Langa’s. Langa considers refusing him, knowing the Angel is watching. But he doesn’t want to arouse Reki’s suspicions any more than he already has.

Langa presents his cheek for Reki to kiss, then his other cheek. It’s adorable, really, how much Reki enjoys giving Langa what he calls a “French kiss.” (Langa decided not to correct him on the name.) Langa never liked the intimacy of the greeting back home, but now he doesn’t mind it so much. He’s not sure why.

Reki is smiling so wide, so full of pride in Langa’s accomplishment. Langa feels guilty sending him away. But he has no choice—the Angel won’t appear unless Langa is completely alone.

“Thank you again for the music box.”

“I’ll try for flowers next time,” Reki promises. He’s still smiling even as he closes the door to Langa’s dressing room.

Alone at last, Langa looks up to the ceiling.“How was I, really?”

The voice, low and melodic as ever, comes through the walls as it always has. “Your performance, my dear, was exquisite.”

Langa finally feels pride swelling in his chest. “Thank you, tenshi-sama. I couldn’t have done it without your teaching.”

“I knew you were ready. All you needed was a little push to spread your wings.”

A little push…Langa assumed it was a coincidence that the role he had been learning with the Angel was the same that he was called upon to play after Miya’s accident.

“Did you—?”

“Don’t feel sorry for Miya, darling. He’ll simply have to start back from the beginning again. Now it’s your turn to fly.”

“But if Miya comes back, won’t the managers give him the role?”

“When it’s your name the audience is shouting? Hardly! The role is yours for the rest of the run. Which means we need to start rehearsing.”

Langa deflates a little. He’s rehearsed with the Angel every night this week. He wants to go back to his crowded little apartment and put off sleep in favor of talking to Reki. But the Angel is right: this is a difficult role, and he knows there are places where he could improve.

“Of course, tenshi-sama. I am your faithful student.”

“Oh, Langa-kun,” the Angel sighs. “Your father is so proud of you. There is no happier soul in Heaven tonight!”

Langa feels his cheeks flush. Tears well up in his eyes. How can he begrudge the Angel a moment of his time when training with Him is the only way he can feel his father’s spirit? His father, who gave him everything in life, is now giving him the ultimate gift in death.

The Angel pulls Langa out of his thoughts. “Now, give me your entrance as Sumizome. I’ll give you your cue.”

——

Let me know if you want to read more! I’m not quite ready to publish, but I do have a lot of the fic planned and excerpts written.

phantom au masterpost