[Taia]
by penguin474
The Only Thing Missing
Shindou Hikaru and Touya Akira: eight years of rivalry and friendship. They’ve defeated each other, taken titles from each other, shouted and fought and laughed. The only thing that’s missing between them, Akira thinks, is a kiss.
*
There’s one thing Akira will never be able to Shindou to: age. Three months before Akira, Shindou turns twenty.
There's tea and cake in the break room at the Institute before a good number of pros move to a nearby bar to continue the celebrations. Akira goes; of course he does. There's no way he'll miss spending an entire evening in Shindou's presence.
Ogata in his designer suit is leaning against the bar, amusing himself with attempts to get Shindou drunk but Shindou is holding his own, not being overly fond of alcohol. Ogata himself isn't drinking, which probably means he's driving. With growing dismay, Akira watches Ogata get more and more openly flirty with Shindou, holding his gaze, smiling at him, smoothing his fingers up and down the neck of his misty bottle of non-alcoholic beer, standing so close to Shindou that their shoulders touch.
There are more people than Ogata who want to buy Shindou a drink, and he accepts at least some of the offers. When it's Akira's turn Shindou just wants a Coke and they stand close together at the bar, chatting about things outside the Go world for a change. Akira allows his eyes to roam Shindou's face, the beautiful eyes, the pretty nose that makes Akira's hands tremble, the small, soft shadow below the bottom lip. I have to do something about this, he thinks dizzily. The thought of kissing Shindou makes him close his eyes for a moment. They talk about nothing in particular but keep looking into each other's eyes, and Akira's blood pounds as he sees something flicker in the depths of Shindou's eyes. Maybe he is still special to Shindou. Maybe this is the evening when he can make it happen at last.
Even if Shindou laughingly declines most offers of drinks, he is more than halfway to being drunk after a few hours in the bar. Ogata doggedly stays irritatingly close, always returning to Shindou's side, and throughout the evening Shindou spends more time talking to Ogata than to anyone else. He seems flattered by the attention and returns Ogata's smiles in a way that makes Akira's stomach clench.
When Shindou needs to support himself against the wall on his way from the bathroom, he grins at himself and announces to no one in particular that he is going home. Ogata pounces on the opportunity like he has spotted a long awaited opening in his opponent's play.
"I'll give you a ride," he says smoothly, his eyes resting on Shindou's pretty face. His smile is far too intimate for a public place and underlines the double-entendre.
"Thank you," Shindou says with an intoxicated grin that still manages to be blinding, and Ogata guides him gently towards the door with a hand at the small of Shindou's back.
Akira watches them with wide eyes, flooded with horror, but when he opens his mouth to protest or at least say something, they're already at the door. His body is so tense he is literally shaking and he wants to throw himself after them, scream and beat at them with his fists like an enraged child. Around him people are chatting and laughing. Waya is drawing kifu on a crumbling napkin, trying to convince Honda of the brilliance of his latest game. Akira sits back down at the table, breathing hard and trying to push down the panic rising in his chest.
Heaven only knows what Ogata might do, and to make matters worse, much worse, Shindou didn't look averse to the idea of Ogata doing things to him. Akira chokes. He wants - has always wanted - for Shindou to be his and only his, to wait for him like he has waited for Shindou, and he realises now that he has absolutely no idea whether Shindou is a virgin or not. Up to now, he has more or less taken it for granted that Shindou has ventured no further into the land of sex than himself - and for Akira's part that only means some kissing and clumsy groping with a few pretty fangirls, not because he really fancied them but because they were there and it seemed to be what you were supposed to do.
But there's never been any question about who he really wants. Shindou has always been the only one, and for years Akira has believed himself to hold the same unthreatened position in Shindou's life. There are absolutely no guarantees for that, he begins to realise, and lately there hasn't really been any signs of it, like there was when they were younger. Akira has always thought that one day, one day it will happen, and earlier tonight at the bar he had dizzily thought the day might have arrived. But maybe Shindou is tired of waiting. Maybe he never wanted it.
Akira is suddenly nauseous and tears are burning his eyelids. When he turns his stinging eyes away from the door at last, they meet Isumi's. He knows then that Isumi has seen the whole thing, everything from Ogata flirting with Shindou and his hand at the small of Shindou's back to Akira's own rage, misery and helplessness. Isumi is kind and far too perceptive, and his eyes are brimming with sympathy. Akira stares at him wordlessly, wanting to say help me, tell me what to do.
And then, suddenly, he can't stand it any more. It's too agonising, staying here while his imagination creates horrible scenarios in his mind. It's always better to know.
"I'm leaving," he says to Isumi.
Isumi puts a hand on his shoulder and says quietly, so only Akira can hear it under the noise: "Touya, I'm sure it's okay."
Akira is not at all sure, knowing Ogata only too well, so he weaves his way out of the crowded bar and hails a taxi in the street. He knows Shindou's address even if he's never been to the flat, and he sits stiffly in the back of the taxi willing the driver to go at the same reckless speed Ogata always does. Shops and restaurants, houses and trees melt into a blur and Akira bites his nails. The ride seems to take forever and he begins to wonder what he really meant to do when it ends.
The taxi pulls up in front of an anonymous-looking apartment complex in a tree-lined street, and the first thing Akira sees is Ogata's red car parked right outside the building - demonstratively, or so it seems to Akira. Like it's laughing him in the face. Getting out of the taxi he stares at the red car with hatred, quenching an urge to find a rock and smash the windscreen.
Isn't love supposed to be a noble feeling? Isn't it supposed to be warm and luminous, deep and red, gentle and generous? What Akira feels is violent and destructive and his heart is dark with fury.
But this isn’t love, the reasonable part of him says. This is raging jealousy, and desperation has no beauty.
The taxi drives off and Akira stands in the relative silence of the city night, staring up at Shindou's building with dry eyes, hands clenched and heart pounding, wondering what on earth he's doing there. He rarely does things without thinking them through to the end. It's like his moves on the board. Shindou is the only person who ever makes him behave like this, without either sense or dignity; acting on headless, stupid impulse.
So what will he do? Stand by Ogata's car all night, staring at the entrance to the building? The thought makes him feel physically sick - imagining Ogata with Shindou, and himself in this utterly ridiculous, humiliating situation. Or just slink away home, defeated?
While he ponders his miserable options, the door opens and Ogata exits the building. He slows his steps when he spots Akira on the pavement and they eye each other like hostile dogs.
Ogata shoves his hands in his pockets and approaches Akira slowly. Akira's body goes rigid, preparing for fight, but when Ogata speaks he sounds disdainful and a little tired.
"You disappoint me," he says, his voice hard and his eyes hidden behind glasses made opaque by the glare of the street lamp. "Did you really think it was necessary to come here? Did you really believe I'd take advantage of a drunk kid?"
Yes, Akira wants to say because yes, that's exactly what he believes - what else could anyone think, the way Ogata behaved all evening? But maybe he hasn't been thinking all that clearly, and Ogata's wooden face and stiff demeanour tells him how unfair he's been. To everyone, really. Misery aches in his chest. All evening he's done the wrong things and felt the wrong things and now he doesn't know what to do except glare at Ogata like it's his fault Akira is an idiot.
"Are you going up?" Ogata asks, indicating the building. His voice still hard.
Akira mutely shakes his head.
Ogata looks at him for a long moment, then shrugs and begins to walk towards his car. "I have no idea why I'm doing this," he says over his shoulder, "god knows you don't deserve it, but get in. I'll take you home."
Akira gets into the car without a word, inhaling the familiar scent of expensive leather and the less pleasant reek of Ogata's eternal cigarettes. The radio goes on but Ogata turns it off, not wanting anything to soften the atmosphere. His face is eerily lit from below by the glow of the instrument panel.
"You flirted with Shindou all evening." The muttered accusation sounds childish even to Akira himself.
Ogata looks straight ahead as he turns the corner into the main street. "I didn't see you come to his rescue," he replies quietly.
Fresh anger begins to simmer in Akira's chest. "You mean you just did it to provoke a reaction from me? I can't believe it. I can't believe you."
Ogata shrugs, his face expressionless and his hands calm on the wheel.
"Well, you succeeded, didn't you," says Akira bitterly. "Aren't you pleased? I must have made your day, running after you like that."
There's no reply and Akira tells himself to shut up, for god's sake, and not get in any deeper. There's no accounting for Ogata's actions but he should be able to control his own. The street lights make light and shadow flit across their faces at regular intervals and Akira suddenly wants to put his head on his arms on the dashboard and cry. Ogata drives in silence while Akira stares ahead of him, the beginnings of a headache throbbing in his temples.
"I'm so in love with him," he hears himself say, and it sounds exactly like what it is; a startled, anguished confession. His heart is beating hard enough to make his voice tremble. There's a moment of agonising silence before Ogata replies.
"I can see that," he says simply.
Akira squeezes his eyes shut, tears oozing out under his eyelids. Ogata is such an unlikely confidant and this may not have been very wise, but it's out now and there's no taking it back.
"What are you going to do about it?" Ogata asks, throwing him a quick glance. "It's not like you to leave difficult situations unresolved. You usually attack. And with finesse."
It sounded like he's just been paid a compliment, and Ogata's generosity makes him both relax and feel guilty, even worse than before.
"I'm sorry," he says when his voice is under control again. "I misjudged you, Ogata-san, and I apologise."
Ogata makes a sound that could mean anything and they sit in silence until they're outside Akira's house. The windows are dark and unwelcoming but tonight Akira is very glad to have his parents in China.
"Thank you," he says as he gets out of the car, and Ogata just nods without looking at him, taking off at his usual breakneck speed.
I’m so in love with him. Whatever made him blurt that out? But it's true of course, and if Ogata has seen it, and Isumi, it's likely that other people have as well. Has everyone seen it except himself? Has Shindou? he wonders. That thought has never worried him before, but now he feels a sickening twinge in his stomach.
As he goes to bed and turns out the light his headache is getting worse, and he desperately wishes for an industrial-strength sleeping pill to knock him out cold.
*
For the first time in his life, Hikaru wakes up with a hangover.
It’s a sunny morning and the top of the trees outside his bedroom window are beginning to turn gold, bright against the blue sky. Yellow is Hikaru's favourite colour and autumn his favourite season, but today he doesn’t want to see any of it; he just groans and clamps the pillow over his head.
He has a headache and his body feels strangely sluggish, but he’ll survive. The emotional hangover, though…
Ogata. Touya!
He groans again, miserably. What the hell was wrong with me last night? What was I thinking?
Most of the evening had been pretty nice. A lot of people had wanted to chat to him, buy him drinks and wish him well for the future. Even Morishita-sensei had turned up at the bar for about fifteen minutes, placed a heavy hand on Hikaru's shoulder and growled at him to get a move on and grab a title before Touya Akira did. Kadowaki had bought him a beer and praised his play and his game-reading - he always praises Hikaru and it never fails to make Hikaru embarrassed, but he likes Kadowaki.
Still, the best part of the evening was standing at the bar with Touya, so close they could talk in low voices sort of underneath the noise around them, with the intensity of Touya’s eyes directed at Hikaru and only Hikaru. Whenever that happens, everything falls in place. Everyone else fades into the background, even Sai in Hikaru’s mind, and Hikaru is completely present. For eight years now he's chased Touya for that look in his eyes, and last night at the bar, he’d had it. It was just like it is when they're playing - nothing else exists, there are only the two of them in some kind of Touya-Shindou bubble. But last night there was no Go board and no stones, only a few inches of smoke-filled air between them, and there was a softness in Touya's eyes that smoothed out the intensity into something beautiful, and Touya looked like he…
Hikaru turns on his back and pushes the pillow back under his head, closes his eyes against the too-bright light from the window and tries to analyse the look on Touya's face. It was like he wanted to say something other than the small talk they were sharing, like his mouth was saying one thing and his eyes were saying another.
There are some spectacularly good-looking people among Hikaru’s friends. He can understand why girls giggle around Waya and stare in starry-eyed awe at Isumi, but for Hikaru, no one even comes close to Touya. The straight nose and pointy chin, the soft mouth and the incredible intensity and focus of the dark eyes... no one has ever caught Hikaru's attention like Touya; no one makes everyone else seem trite the way Touya does.
Hikaru is amazed that the fascination doesn't go away, but it hasn't for a minute in the eight years they've known each other; it's only getting stronger. Lately it has shifted to a new kind of focus - from Touya's go, Touya's spectacular play and deep game analysis to Touya himself. His hands, the curve of his neck, his fingers holding the stones, the way his hair falls forward when he focuses on the board… and last night, Touya's soft, smooth lower lip so close. Hikaru wants to be physically close to Touya, wants to touch the white skin above the neckline of his jumper or the inside of his wrists, wants to take the earlobe that's sometimes visible underneath the straight dark hair between his teeth, gently, to make Touya shiver.
The thought makes Hikaru groan and move restlessly, turning over to press himself into the mattress. It's not strange, not really surprising, that this is where his complete focus on Touya has taken him. Does Touya feel it, too, or is it just Hikaru? Are they going to chase each other around for this as well, desperately trying to reach the same level so they can finally meet as equals, like they've done with their Go?
Touya's eyes last night… maybe they were telling him something similar to what he feels. Maybe. He's good at reading some of Touya’s reactions, ridiculously good at predicting and provoking some of them, but others he really has no idea about.
Once he's got started thinking about Touya this way, there's no stopping it. His mind whirls and burns with images, real or fantasised, as he moves his hand between his legs. The tip of Touya's tongue coming out to catch a stray drop of tea on his lower lip, the small shadow in the hollow between the points of collarbone, the thought of unbuttoning Touya's shirt slowly to touch the pale, smooth skin, first with his fingers and then with his tongue, moving down…
Hikaru groans again and comes messily, thinking he must be insane and that he just made his headache worse. He crawls out of bed to clean himself up, downs three glasses of water and a painkiller and goes back to bed, lying there with his arms under his head, continuing to think of last night.
Because after those wonderful minutes in the Touya-Shindou bubble, Ogata happened.
Ever since Ogata stopped pestering Hikaru about Sai he's been really nice, even if he still makes Hikaru nervous with the way he always looks like he's plotting something or knows a big secret he's going to spring on Hikaru any minute.
But last night, he was flirting. There's no other word for it. He acted like he was at the bar for Hikaru only, not bothering to talk to anyone else much, always returning to Hikaru. And Hikaru was flattered by it, and as the evening passed, increasingly excited. By the suggestive way Ogata's fingers closed around the neck of the beer bottle, slid slowly upwards and then back down. By the way Ogata's shoulder touched his own, carefully casually. By the way Ogata looked at his mouth.
It was exciting in a completely different way than with Touya. Ogata is nice-looking even if he is much older, and the fact that he is older is flattering in itself. There are none of the insecurities of Hikaru's feelings for Touya or the doubts about whether they're returned. This is physical and immediate, a tiny bit frightening and all the more exciting for it. With Touya there's only guessing; with Ogata there's no doubt.
Then there was the closeness in the dark interior of the car with Ogata's sidelong glances and small smiles, the indecently suggestive grip on the gear shift... And the overwhelming presence of Ogata in Hikaru's tiny hall when the door closed behind them, nervous anticipation making Hikaru tremble and breathe faster.
Hikaru squeezes his eyes closed and puts the pillow over his face again. I can’t believe myself! He blushes under the pillow. Because from then on, it hadn't been Ogata making the moves any more; it had been Hikaru. It had been Hikaru who had placed his hands on Ogataäs shoulders and reached up to kiss him clumsily, Ogata taking his time about responding, parting his lips indulgently to Hikaru's eager, inexpert tongue, his hands touching bare skin at Hikaru's midriff as though humouring him, making Hikaru draw a sharp breath... and just as he had ventured to grind against Ogata, the older man had pushed him away - gently, but still pushing him away. He had held Hikaru at arms-length, looked at him and said… and said…
Hikaru flings the pillow on the floor and sits up. That had been the second worst moment of the evening, the worst being the look in Touya's eyes as Hikaru left the bar with Ogata. The disbelief in them, the disappointment.
Why did I do it? Why?
If Touya hates him now… Hikaru can't even finish the thought. He realises he won't be able to go back to sleep, so he takes a shower and manages to make some kind of breakfast. His cupboards don't yield up much; they usually don't unless his mum's been there to stock them up for him.
Hikaru wonders what to do with his day, how to get rid of the uneasiness sitting heavily at the back of his mind, and he ends up just going to the park around the corner, where he sits on a bench looking up at the sky through the trees. He has always liked parks. He uses them to calm himself, like that time when he wanted to get to the pro exam preliminaries at the very last minute to avoid running into Tsubaki. Or to pull himself together when Sai had disappeared.
Hikaru blinks at the bright sky, not wanting to think about Sai, wondering if the pain will ever go away. There's nothing he can do to have Sai back, but there must be something he can do about his guilt towards Touya. He can't just leave it to fester. Touya is much too important and Hikaru can’t bear the thought of losing him, too.
A fan-shaped gingko leaf dances through the air and lands in his lap as he sits up straight, gets out his phone and dials Touya's number.
*
Akira has just boarded the train and settled down with a sheaf of kifu when his phone vibrates in his pocket, and his heart jumps to his throat as he stares at the name Shindou on the display. For a moment he considers not answering, as if Shindou would ever let himself be ignored.
Shindou wants them to meet at the Go salon in the afternoon, like nothing happened last night. And maybe it didn't, for him.
"I can't," Akira replies, and he can hear the coldness in his own voice. "I'm on my way to Nagoya."
There's silence at the other end. Akira hears a car passing by and children laughing in the background before Shindou says "Okay" in a small, un-Shindou-like voice. "I really… I really wanted to play you," he adds.
Akira doesn't know how to respond to that, because of course he wants to play Shindou too - always - but Shindou sounds like he means something else, like it's code for something that Akira can't decipher.
"I'll be back on Monday," he offers. "We could meet then."
"I'm going to Kyoto on Monday." Still this defeated tone. Apologetic, almost.
"Oh."
"Touya?"
"Yes?"
"I really do want to play you."
And then Shindou hangs up, leaving Touya to stare stupidly at the phone. It slips a little in his hand.
*
It's probably the five hundredth time they've talked on the phone, but Touya's slightly husky voice never used to get to him like this. Hikaru shivers from head to toe despite the warm sun and his hands are shaking so much he can barely end the call. He slumps against the back of the bench, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry about yesterday" was what he had really wanted to say, and "I want to play you" was what came out of his mouth. At least Touya had sounded less distant at the end of the call, and he had suggested they'd meet on Monday.
Hikaru heaves a sigh and clenches his hands into fist. Damn Nagoya, damn Kyoto, damn everything that keeps him apart from Touya.
I can't allow it.
And suddenly he knows what he needs to do. It's like finding an opening on the Go board and realising exactly where to go to let your stones live. Hikaru opens his eyes to the blue sky, jumps up from the bench and runs.
*
All through the game, a strange kind of weariness seems to sit in Akira's bones. It makes him play listlessly but he does win, just. In the lift up to his hotel room he leans against the wall and turns his face away from the pale image in the mirror.
When he turns the corner he nearly trips over Shindou’s outstretched legs. He is sitting on the floor, leaning against Akira's door. Akira's cheeks floods with heat and he takes a step back.
"Touya." Shindou scrambles to his feet. They're face to face and Shindou's eyes are dark, his pupils wide like those of a cat. "Touya, last night... I should have... I shouldn't have..."
“I have no idea what you're talking about," says Akira stiffly.
Shindou leans forward, doesn't let him get away. "Touya," he says again, "I only came here because... I wanted to... I'm sorry.”
"I have no idea what you're talking about." It's almost a whisper. Akira pulls his room key out of his pocket to have something to do, to try to save his dignity, but Shindou's hand is on his arm, stopping him.
"Yes, you do. You know exactly what I'm talking about. And I'm sorry."
For a second they stare at each other, both of them breathing fast. Then Akira opens the door and they tumble into the room, tripping over each other's feet as if they can't get in fast enough. The door falls shut after them and Shindou's back is pressed against the wall, Akira's fingers closing around his wrists.
Words are fighting for space in Akira's mouth. "Don't ever," he says, "don't ever do that again."
"I'm not likely to," Shindou murmurs, his gaze dropping to Akira's mouth.
"You're mine," Akira gasps, throwing his dignity to the wind, "you're mine and I can't... I won't let you..."
Shindou is beginning to smile. "I know," he says. “But there's one thing I'm pretty sure you'll let me do."
"W-what?"
"This," Shindou whispers. "You'll let me do this."
And then he moves under Akira's hands, moves forward at last, leaning in to silence Akira with his mouth.
The Only Thing Missing
Shindou Hikaru and Touya Akira: eight years of rivalry and friendship. They’ve defeated each other, taken titles from each other, shouted and fought and laughed. The only thing that’s missing between them, Akira thinks, is a kiss.
*
There’s one thing Akira will never be able to Shindou to: age. Three months before Akira, Shindou turns twenty.
There's tea and cake in the break room at the Institute before a good number of pros move to a nearby bar to continue the celebrations. Akira goes; of course he does. There's no way he'll miss spending an entire evening in Shindou's presence.
Ogata in his designer suit is leaning against the bar, amusing himself with attempts to get Shindou drunk but Shindou is holding his own, not being overly fond of alcohol. Ogata himself isn't drinking, which probably means he's driving. With growing dismay, Akira watches Ogata get more and more openly flirty with Shindou, holding his gaze, smiling at him, smoothing his fingers up and down the neck of his misty bottle of non-alcoholic beer, standing so close to Shindou that their shoulders touch.
There are more people than Ogata who want to buy Shindou a drink, and he accepts at least some of the offers. When it's Akira's turn Shindou just wants a Coke and they stand close together at the bar, chatting about things outside the Go world for a change. Akira allows his eyes to roam Shindou's face, the beautiful eyes, the pretty nose that makes Akira's hands tremble, the small, soft shadow below the bottom lip. I have to do something about this, he thinks dizzily. The thought of kissing Shindou makes him close his eyes for a moment. They talk about nothing in particular but keep looking into each other's eyes, and Akira's blood pounds as he sees something flicker in the depths of Shindou's eyes. Maybe he is still special to Shindou. Maybe this is the evening when he can make it happen at last.
Even if Shindou laughingly declines most offers of drinks, he is more than halfway to being drunk after a few hours in the bar. Ogata doggedly stays irritatingly close, always returning to Shindou's side, and throughout the evening Shindou spends more time talking to Ogata than to anyone else. He seems flattered by the attention and returns Ogata's smiles in a way that makes Akira's stomach clench.
When Shindou needs to support himself against the wall on his way from the bathroom, he grins at himself and announces to no one in particular that he is going home. Ogata pounces on the opportunity like he has spotted a long awaited opening in his opponent's play.
"I'll give you a ride," he says smoothly, his eyes resting on Shindou's pretty face. His smile is far too intimate for a public place and underlines the double-entendre.
"Thank you," Shindou says with an intoxicated grin that still manages to be blinding, and Ogata guides him gently towards the door with a hand at the small of Shindou's back.
Akira watches them with wide eyes, flooded with horror, but when he opens his mouth to protest or at least say something, they're already at the door. His body is so tense he is literally shaking and he wants to throw himself after them, scream and beat at them with his fists like an enraged child. Around him people are chatting and laughing. Waya is drawing kifu on a crumbling napkin, trying to convince Honda of the brilliance of his latest game. Akira sits back down at the table, breathing hard and trying to push down the panic rising in his chest.
Heaven only knows what Ogata might do, and to make matters worse, much worse, Shindou didn't look averse to the idea of Ogata doing things to him. Akira chokes. He wants - has always wanted - for Shindou to be his and only his, to wait for him like he has waited for Shindou, and he realises now that he has absolutely no idea whether Shindou is a virgin or not. Up to now, he has more or less taken it for granted that Shindou has ventured no further into the land of sex than himself - and for Akira's part that only means some kissing and clumsy groping with a few pretty fangirls, not because he really fancied them but because they were there and it seemed to be what you were supposed to do.
But there's never been any question about who he really wants. Shindou has always been the only one, and for years Akira has believed himself to hold the same unthreatened position in Shindou's life. There are absolutely no guarantees for that, he begins to realise, and lately there hasn't really been any signs of it, like there was when they were younger. Akira has always thought that one day, one day it will happen, and earlier tonight at the bar he had dizzily thought the day might have arrived. But maybe Shindou is tired of waiting. Maybe he never wanted it.
Akira is suddenly nauseous and tears are burning his eyelids. When he turns his stinging eyes away from the door at last, they meet Isumi's. He knows then that Isumi has seen the whole thing, everything from Ogata flirting with Shindou and his hand at the small of Shindou's back to Akira's own rage, misery and helplessness. Isumi is kind and far too perceptive, and his eyes are brimming with sympathy. Akira stares at him wordlessly, wanting to say help me, tell me what to do.
And then, suddenly, he can't stand it any more. It's too agonising, staying here while his imagination creates horrible scenarios in his mind. It's always better to know.
"I'm leaving," he says to Isumi.
Isumi puts a hand on his shoulder and says quietly, so only Akira can hear it under the noise: "Touya, I'm sure it's okay."
Akira is not at all sure, knowing Ogata only too well, so he weaves his way out of the crowded bar and hails a taxi in the street. He knows Shindou's address even if he's never been to the flat, and he sits stiffly in the back of the taxi willing the driver to go at the same reckless speed Ogata always does. Shops and restaurants, houses and trees melt into a blur and Akira bites his nails. The ride seems to take forever and he begins to wonder what he really meant to do when it ends.
The taxi pulls up in front of an anonymous-looking apartment complex in a tree-lined street, and the first thing Akira sees is Ogata's red car parked right outside the building - demonstratively, or so it seems to Akira. Like it's laughing him in the face. Getting out of the taxi he stares at the red car with hatred, quenching an urge to find a rock and smash the windscreen.
Isn't love supposed to be a noble feeling? Isn't it supposed to be warm and luminous, deep and red, gentle and generous? What Akira feels is violent and destructive and his heart is dark with fury.
But this isn’t love, the reasonable part of him says. This is raging jealousy, and desperation has no beauty.
The taxi drives off and Akira stands in the relative silence of the city night, staring up at Shindou's building with dry eyes, hands clenched and heart pounding, wondering what on earth he's doing there. He rarely does things without thinking them through to the end. It's like his moves on the board. Shindou is the only person who ever makes him behave like this, without either sense or dignity; acting on headless, stupid impulse.
So what will he do? Stand by Ogata's car all night, staring at the entrance to the building? The thought makes him feel physically sick - imagining Ogata with Shindou, and himself in this utterly ridiculous, humiliating situation. Or just slink away home, defeated?
While he ponders his miserable options, the door opens and Ogata exits the building. He slows his steps when he spots Akira on the pavement and they eye each other like hostile dogs.
Ogata shoves his hands in his pockets and approaches Akira slowly. Akira's body goes rigid, preparing for fight, but when Ogata speaks he sounds disdainful and a little tired.
"You disappoint me," he says, his voice hard and his eyes hidden behind glasses made opaque by the glare of the street lamp. "Did you really think it was necessary to come here? Did you really believe I'd take advantage of a drunk kid?"
Yes, Akira wants to say because yes, that's exactly what he believes - what else could anyone think, the way Ogata behaved all evening? But maybe he hasn't been thinking all that clearly, and Ogata's wooden face and stiff demeanour tells him how unfair he's been. To everyone, really. Misery aches in his chest. All evening he's done the wrong things and felt the wrong things and now he doesn't know what to do except glare at Ogata like it's his fault Akira is an idiot.
"Are you going up?" Ogata asks, indicating the building. His voice still hard.
Akira mutely shakes his head.
Ogata looks at him for a long moment, then shrugs and begins to walk towards his car. "I have no idea why I'm doing this," he says over his shoulder, "god knows you don't deserve it, but get in. I'll take you home."
Akira gets into the car without a word, inhaling the familiar scent of expensive leather and the less pleasant reek of Ogata's eternal cigarettes. The radio goes on but Ogata turns it off, not wanting anything to soften the atmosphere. His face is eerily lit from below by the glow of the instrument panel.
"You flirted with Shindou all evening." The muttered accusation sounds childish even to Akira himself.
Ogata looks straight ahead as he turns the corner into the main street. "I didn't see you come to his rescue," he replies quietly.
Fresh anger begins to simmer in Akira's chest. "You mean you just did it to provoke a reaction from me? I can't believe it. I can't believe you."
Ogata shrugs, his face expressionless and his hands calm on the wheel.
"Well, you succeeded, didn't you," says Akira bitterly. "Aren't you pleased? I must have made your day, running after you like that."
There's no reply and Akira tells himself to shut up, for god's sake, and not get in any deeper. There's no accounting for Ogata's actions but he should be able to control his own. The street lights make light and shadow flit across their faces at regular intervals and Akira suddenly wants to put his head on his arms on the dashboard and cry. Ogata drives in silence while Akira stares ahead of him, the beginnings of a headache throbbing in his temples.
"I'm so in love with him," he hears himself say, and it sounds exactly like what it is; a startled, anguished confession. His heart is beating hard enough to make his voice tremble. There's a moment of agonising silence before Ogata replies.
"I can see that," he says simply.
Akira squeezes his eyes shut, tears oozing out under his eyelids. Ogata is such an unlikely confidant and this may not have been very wise, but it's out now and there's no taking it back.
"What are you going to do about it?" Ogata asks, throwing him a quick glance. "It's not like you to leave difficult situations unresolved. You usually attack. And with finesse."
It sounded like he's just been paid a compliment, and Ogata's generosity makes him both relax and feel guilty, even worse than before.
"I'm sorry," he says when his voice is under control again. "I misjudged you, Ogata-san, and I apologise."
Ogata makes a sound that could mean anything and they sit in silence until they're outside Akira's house. The windows are dark and unwelcoming but tonight Akira is very glad to have his parents in China.
"Thank you," he says as he gets out of the car, and Ogata just nods without looking at him, taking off at his usual breakneck speed.
I’m so in love with him. Whatever made him blurt that out? But it's true of course, and if Ogata has seen it, and Isumi, it's likely that other people have as well. Has everyone seen it except himself? Has Shindou? he wonders. That thought has never worried him before, but now he feels a sickening twinge in his stomach.
As he goes to bed and turns out the light his headache is getting worse, and he desperately wishes for an industrial-strength sleeping pill to knock him out cold.
*
For the first time in his life, Hikaru wakes up with a hangover.
It’s a sunny morning and the top of the trees outside his bedroom window are beginning to turn gold, bright against the blue sky. Yellow is Hikaru's favourite colour and autumn his favourite season, but today he doesn’t want to see any of it; he just groans and clamps the pillow over his head.
He has a headache and his body feels strangely sluggish, but he’ll survive. The emotional hangover, though…
Ogata. Touya!
He groans again, miserably. What the hell was wrong with me last night? What was I thinking?
Most of the evening had been pretty nice. A lot of people had wanted to chat to him, buy him drinks and wish him well for the future. Even Morishita-sensei had turned up at the bar for about fifteen minutes, placed a heavy hand on Hikaru's shoulder and growled at him to get a move on and grab a title before Touya Akira did. Kadowaki had bought him a beer and praised his play and his game-reading - he always praises Hikaru and it never fails to make Hikaru embarrassed, but he likes Kadowaki.
Still, the best part of the evening was standing at the bar with Touya, so close they could talk in low voices sort of underneath the noise around them, with the intensity of Touya’s eyes directed at Hikaru and only Hikaru. Whenever that happens, everything falls in place. Everyone else fades into the background, even Sai in Hikaru’s mind, and Hikaru is completely present. For eight years now he's chased Touya for that look in his eyes, and last night at the bar, he’d had it. It was just like it is when they're playing - nothing else exists, there are only the two of them in some kind of Touya-Shindou bubble. But last night there was no Go board and no stones, only a few inches of smoke-filled air between them, and there was a softness in Touya's eyes that smoothed out the intensity into something beautiful, and Touya looked like he…
Hikaru turns on his back and pushes the pillow back under his head, closes his eyes against the too-bright light from the window and tries to analyse the look on Touya's face. It was like he wanted to say something other than the small talk they were sharing, like his mouth was saying one thing and his eyes were saying another.
There are some spectacularly good-looking people among Hikaru’s friends. He can understand why girls giggle around Waya and stare in starry-eyed awe at Isumi, but for Hikaru, no one even comes close to Touya. The straight nose and pointy chin, the soft mouth and the incredible intensity and focus of the dark eyes... no one has ever caught Hikaru's attention like Touya; no one makes everyone else seem trite the way Touya does.
Hikaru is amazed that the fascination doesn't go away, but it hasn't for a minute in the eight years they've known each other; it's only getting stronger. Lately it has shifted to a new kind of focus - from Touya's go, Touya's spectacular play and deep game analysis to Touya himself. His hands, the curve of his neck, his fingers holding the stones, the way his hair falls forward when he focuses on the board… and last night, Touya's soft, smooth lower lip so close. Hikaru wants to be physically close to Touya, wants to touch the white skin above the neckline of his jumper or the inside of his wrists, wants to take the earlobe that's sometimes visible underneath the straight dark hair between his teeth, gently, to make Touya shiver.
The thought makes Hikaru groan and move restlessly, turning over to press himself into the mattress. It's not strange, not really surprising, that this is where his complete focus on Touya has taken him. Does Touya feel it, too, or is it just Hikaru? Are they going to chase each other around for this as well, desperately trying to reach the same level so they can finally meet as equals, like they've done with their Go?
Touya's eyes last night… maybe they were telling him something similar to what he feels. Maybe. He's good at reading some of Touya’s reactions, ridiculously good at predicting and provoking some of them, but others he really has no idea about.
Once he's got started thinking about Touya this way, there's no stopping it. His mind whirls and burns with images, real or fantasised, as he moves his hand between his legs. The tip of Touya's tongue coming out to catch a stray drop of tea on his lower lip, the small shadow in the hollow between the points of collarbone, the thought of unbuttoning Touya's shirt slowly to touch the pale, smooth skin, first with his fingers and then with his tongue, moving down…
Hikaru groans again and comes messily, thinking he must be insane and that he just made his headache worse. He crawls out of bed to clean himself up, downs three glasses of water and a painkiller and goes back to bed, lying there with his arms under his head, continuing to think of last night.
Because after those wonderful minutes in the Touya-Shindou bubble, Ogata happened.
Ever since Ogata stopped pestering Hikaru about Sai he's been really nice, even if he still makes Hikaru nervous with the way he always looks like he's plotting something or knows a big secret he's going to spring on Hikaru any minute.
But last night, he was flirting. There's no other word for it. He acted like he was at the bar for Hikaru only, not bothering to talk to anyone else much, always returning to Hikaru. And Hikaru was flattered by it, and as the evening passed, increasingly excited. By the suggestive way Ogata's fingers closed around the neck of the beer bottle, slid slowly upwards and then back down. By the way Ogata's shoulder touched his own, carefully casually. By the way Ogata looked at his mouth.
It was exciting in a completely different way than with Touya. Ogata is nice-looking even if he is much older, and the fact that he is older is flattering in itself. There are none of the insecurities of Hikaru's feelings for Touya or the doubts about whether they're returned. This is physical and immediate, a tiny bit frightening and all the more exciting for it. With Touya there's only guessing; with Ogata there's no doubt.
Then there was the closeness in the dark interior of the car with Ogata's sidelong glances and small smiles, the indecently suggestive grip on the gear shift... And the overwhelming presence of Ogata in Hikaru's tiny hall when the door closed behind them, nervous anticipation making Hikaru tremble and breathe faster.
Hikaru squeezes his eyes closed and puts the pillow over his face again. I can’t believe myself! He blushes under the pillow. Because from then on, it hadn't been Ogata making the moves any more; it had been Hikaru. It had been Hikaru who had placed his hands on Ogataäs shoulders and reached up to kiss him clumsily, Ogata taking his time about responding, parting his lips indulgently to Hikaru's eager, inexpert tongue, his hands touching bare skin at Hikaru's midriff as though humouring him, making Hikaru draw a sharp breath... and just as he had ventured to grind against Ogata, the older man had pushed him away - gently, but still pushing him away. He had held Hikaru at arms-length, looked at him and said… and said…
Hikaru flings the pillow on the floor and sits up. That had been the second worst moment of the evening, the worst being the look in Touya's eyes as Hikaru left the bar with Ogata. The disbelief in them, the disappointment.
Why did I do it? Why?
If Touya hates him now… Hikaru can't even finish the thought. He realises he won't be able to go back to sleep, so he takes a shower and manages to make some kind of breakfast. His cupboards don't yield up much; they usually don't unless his mum's been there to stock them up for him.
Hikaru wonders what to do with his day, how to get rid of the uneasiness sitting heavily at the back of his mind, and he ends up just going to the park around the corner, where he sits on a bench looking up at the sky through the trees. He has always liked parks. He uses them to calm himself, like that time when he wanted to get to the pro exam preliminaries at the very last minute to avoid running into Tsubaki. Or to pull himself together when Sai had disappeared.
Hikaru blinks at the bright sky, not wanting to think about Sai, wondering if the pain will ever go away. There's nothing he can do to have Sai back, but there must be something he can do about his guilt towards Touya. He can't just leave it to fester. Touya is much too important and Hikaru can’t bear the thought of losing him, too.
A fan-shaped gingko leaf dances through the air and lands in his lap as he sits up straight, gets out his phone and dials Touya's number.
*
Akira has just boarded the train and settled down with a sheaf of kifu when his phone vibrates in his pocket, and his heart jumps to his throat as he stares at the name Shindou on the display. For a moment he considers not answering, as if Shindou would ever let himself be ignored.
Shindou wants them to meet at the Go salon in the afternoon, like nothing happened last night. And maybe it didn't, for him.
"I can't," Akira replies, and he can hear the coldness in his own voice. "I'm on my way to Nagoya."
There's silence at the other end. Akira hears a car passing by and children laughing in the background before Shindou says "Okay" in a small, un-Shindou-like voice. "I really… I really wanted to play you," he adds.
Akira doesn't know how to respond to that, because of course he wants to play Shindou too - always - but Shindou sounds like he means something else, like it's code for something that Akira can't decipher.
"I'll be back on Monday," he offers. "We could meet then."
"I'm going to Kyoto on Monday." Still this defeated tone. Apologetic, almost.
"Oh."
"Touya?"
"Yes?"
"I really do want to play you."
And then Shindou hangs up, leaving Touya to stare stupidly at the phone. It slips a little in his hand.
*
It's probably the five hundredth time they've talked on the phone, but Touya's slightly husky voice never used to get to him like this. Hikaru shivers from head to toe despite the warm sun and his hands are shaking so much he can barely end the call. He slumps against the back of the bench, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry about yesterday" was what he had really wanted to say, and "I want to play you" was what came out of his mouth. At least Touya had sounded less distant at the end of the call, and he had suggested they'd meet on Monday.
Hikaru heaves a sigh and clenches his hands into fist. Damn Nagoya, damn Kyoto, damn everything that keeps him apart from Touya.
I can't allow it.
And suddenly he knows what he needs to do. It's like finding an opening on the Go board and realising exactly where to go to let your stones live. Hikaru opens his eyes to the blue sky, jumps up from the bench and runs.
*
All through the game, a strange kind of weariness seems to sit in Akira's bones. It makes him play listlessly but he does win, just. In the lift up to his hotel room he leans against the wall and turns his face away from the pale image in the mirror.
When he turns the corner he nearly trips over Shindou’s outstretched legs. He is sitting on the floor, leaning against Akira's door. Akira's cheeks floods with heat and he takes a step back.
"Touya." Shindou scrambles to his feet. They're face to face and Shindou's eyes are dark, his pupils wide like those of a cat. "Touya, last night... I should have... I shouldn't have..."
“I have no idea what you're talking about," says Akira stiffly.
Shindou leans forward, doesn't let him get away. "Touya," he says again, "I only came here because... I wanted to... I'm sorry.”
"I have no idea what you're talking about." It's almost a whisper. Akira pulls his room key out of his pocket to have something to do, to try to save his dignity, but Shindou's hand is on his arm, stopping him.
"Yes, you do. You know exactly what I'm talking about. And I'm sorry."
For a second they stare at each other, both of them breathing fast. Then Akira opens the door and they tumble into the room, tripping over each other's feet as if they can't get in fast enough. The door falls shut after them and Shindou's back is pressed against the wall, Akira's fingers closing around his wrists.
Words are fighting for space in Akira's mouth. "Don't ever," he says, "don't ever do that again."
"I'm not likely to," Shindou murmurs, his gaze dropping to Akira's mouth.
"You're mine," Akira gasps, throwing his dignity to the wind, "you're mine and I can't... I won't let you..."
Shindou is beginning to smile. "I know," he says. “But there's one thing I'm pretty sure you'll let me do."
"W-what?"
"This," Shindou whispers. "You'll let me do this."
And then he moves under Akira's hands, moves forward at last, leaning in to silence Akira with his mouth.