[koyasu]
THIS IS NOT ANOTHER LOVE STORY
by aishuu
Dawn was less than two hours away, and Hikaru knew they should be heading to bed. Akira's wedding was tomorrow, and they needed to be at church by noon. It was Hikaru's responsibility as best man to make sure that Akira showed up on time, which he fully intended to carry out. Waya had informed him that according to western tradition, the best man had to marry the bride if the groom was a no-show. As much as he loved Akari, he definitely didn't want to end up hitched to her. The very idea made him shudder a bit inside.
But even as the clock worked its way forward, he couldn't bring himself to point out how late it was. The game - their third for the night - was only halfway finished, and he didn't want this moment to end. For tonight, it would be him, Akira and the goban.
Akira's eyes had the slumberous look of someone fighting a losing battle with sleep - in another fifteen minutes he would likely keel over from fatigue. It had been a very long day for them both - seeing to the final arrangements for the wedding had taken hours, and the requisite stag night that had served to celebrate Akira's last night of bachelorhood had gone past midnight.
He couldn't help but smirk slightly as he remembered Akira's reaction to the festivities. He knew his best friend well enough to understanding that the traditional night of boozing and risque entertainment wouldn't be enjoyable. While the idea of making Akira squirm held some appeal, Hikaru's rarely seen practical streak had asserted itself. Akira would be organizing his own bachelor party in six months, and it wouldn't be wise to piss him off.
So instead Hikaru had used his own vaunted creativity, and thrown a "funeral" for Akira's freedom. It had been a blast - the guys had gotten into the spirit and delivered eulogies for Akira's bachelorhood, lamenting everything Akira would be giving up. Even Akira's father had gotten into the mood, delivering the coup de grace as he pointed out that Akira's newlywed state would ensure an end to the 3 A.M. Games he played against Hikaru - before adding slyly that Akira would find more enjoyable ways to spend those early morning hours.
The unexpected ribaldry from the well-respected Meijin had sent the already inebriated men into fits of laughter. Akira, bolstered by three shots of sake, had turned a brilliant crimson and lowered his head to try to hide it, triggering another explosion of chuckles. Hikaru, as host, who had stuck to ginger ale to make sure everyone got home safely, found it hard to laugh.
All in all, the party had been a success. Hikaru had elected to hold it at their apartment - the final joint event they would host, and had seen the last of the guests into a taxi before returning to challenge Akira to a game of go to complete the celebration. Akira, of course, had accepted.
That one game had turned into two, and then three. Their go was lazy tonight, a familiar dance that lacked their usual intensity. Hikaru was keyed up, and Akira was exhausted and a bit high from the alcohol he'd consumed. But it was still a comfortable game; their go was as familiar as a pair of well-worn shoes, sliding easily onto tired feet.
As Hikaru laid a stone down on the goban, he felt a slight twinge of resentment toward Akari. He and Akira had shared an apartment for three years, and he'd been enjoying their life together. They'd hang out and play go for hours on end, living in each other's pockets. Seeing Akira first thing in the morning and last thing at night had become something he'd cherished.
And now Akira was going to let that go, in pursuit of a wife and family. It didn't seem fair. Maybe it was Hikaru's fatigue that loosened his tongue. "Are you sure you have to get married tomorrow?"
Akira's eyelids, which had been fluttering at half-mast for the past hour, flew wide open. He sat up straighter, tilting his head to the left as he considered his soon-to-be-ex-roommate. "I think Akari wouldn't like it if I decided to postpone because we got caught up in a game."
Obviously Akira wasn't getting the root of Hikaru's distress. "I mean married at all, you twit," he said grumpily.
"Is there some reason I shouldn't marry Akari?" Akira asked in a very level voice, before laying a white stone in a threatening, bold play. Although his cheeks were still slightly flushed, Hikaru knew Akira's mind was now fully focused on their discussion.
Hikaru tried not to squirm. It was ridiculous; Akira had a certain tone of voice that sounded sickeningly like the one Shindou Masako had once used on her son to good effect. It was the tone that let Hikaru know he was walking a very, very thin line, and saying the wrong thing would land him in a massive about of trouble. "It's very weird to think of you marrying my childhood friend," he said carefully.
"You were the one that introduced us."
"I didn't realize you'd decide to do something silly like fall in love!" As soon as the words crossed his lips, Hikaru hastily slammed his hands over his mouth in a reflective attempt to protect himself.
"Silly? Should I ask Asumi about how silly love is?" Akira sounded more amused than annoyed, a small glimmer of hope that Hikaru might be able to stop digging the grave he'd been shoveling.
"Don't bring her into this."
"It seems fair enough to me that Asumi be informed what her fiance thinks about love. If I tell her tomorrow, you might have enough time to get the wedding deposits back."
Hikaru slammed a slate stone down harder than he should have, even though the goban had seen plenty of play in the past. Thankfully he didn't damage the spruce surface at all. "That's not what I meant!"
Akira leaned back, propping his body up with his hands and ignoring the fact it was his turn to play. "Then what did you mean?"
Hikaru averted his eyes from Akira's inquisitive gaze, lowering his head to hide behind the fringe of his bangs. "I like our life right now. I don't want it to change."
"You don't want to grow up?" Akira asked, and he sounded so blasé that Hikaru couldn't ignore the sarcasm. "I think most people would agree you don't need to worry about that happening any time soon."
"I didn't mean that, jackass. I just meant that I don't see why we have to change a good thing. I mean, don't you like living with me?"
"It's fine, Hikaru, but I love Akari and want her to be my wife." He paused. "There are some benefits to the arrangement that you wouldn't be able to provide."
He knew exactly what Akira was implying. The idea of Akira having sex was kind of scary and so very, very weird that Hikaru felt sick at the thought. But he was too fatigued at that moment to censor any of his thoughts. "You make me wish I was gay," Hikaru said, sounding almost sulky.
Later, when he was more awake, Hikaru would pinpoint that comment as when the conversation went horribly, horribly wrong.
Akira sat up abruptly, not sure what the appropriate response to that declaration was. "I'm glad you're not?" he replied tentatively a moment later.
"I don't mean it like that!" Hikaru protested again, sounding like a broken record.
Akira inched away from the goban, seeming concerned about being too close to Hikaru. This was not a conversation he wanted to be part of - like most men, the very idea of homosexuality made him want to run toward the door. "There's nothing wrong with being gay, Hikaru," he said. "But I'm definitely not, so if you're about to confess your undying love for me, I'm afraid you're going to be greatly disappointed."
"I'm not queer! I like women, older women with nice chests!" Hikaru pounded his fist against the carpeted floor to try to emphasize that he most definitely did not swing that way. "Which you definitely aren't - I swear you're so thin you'd fall through a sidewalk crack. I'm just saying that it would have been nice if we were attracted to each other - then you wouldn't have to move."
"So you're saying you wished we were gay because you want to play go with me," Akira said, giving him a pitying look. "There's something seriously wrong with you, Shindou."
Hikaru wanted to run his head into the wall, or throw Akira out the window, or find a way to rewind time so this horrible conversation never was initiated. Sometimes his stupid mouth just got way ahead of his common sense. "There is not! You're just my favorite person to spend time with, though I'm kind of wondering why right now. I thought you wanted to play go with me more than anything? Go is not sex. It's..." he trailed off.
Akira didn't need to hear the end of the sentence to understand. Go wasn't a hobby - it was a way of life, a game that defined their existence as they sought to expand their games toward the nebulous hand of god. If Akira had an hour to live, he'd want to spend it playing a final match against Hikaru.
"I see," he said neutrally, although his frame was still half-rigid with tension.
Which was really not nice of him, Hikaru thought. "I'm not going to jump you or anything. I already have a cock of my own - I'm not interested in yours."
"Shindou!" Akira snapped, looking sternly disapproving at the very mention of their intimate parts. In ten years, he'd be a carbon-copy of his traditional role model father, so proper and rigid that his back could be used as a ruler. "I'm not interested in talking about your... your... thing with you."
Akira's prudish horror was enough to make Hikaru start to snicker as he realized just how ridiculous this whole discussion was. "I believe you were the one who mentioned what your fiancée could provide. Which, by the way, ew. Akari's like my sister, and I do not want that mental picture."
"You're the one who wished he was gay for me," Akira snapped back. "And I'm not discussing this with you anymore. I think we should forget this ever came up, and go to bed."
"Together? Gee, Akira, I'm sorry but I don't swing that way." Hikaru really needed to learn when to just shut up and let a topic die, but he was unable to resist trying to get the last word.
"You get within three feet of me, and I'm kicking you where it hurts hard enough that you don't move for a week," Akira threatened. "I can always ask Ashiwara to be my best man."
"You value our friendship so little that you'd replace me, just like that?" It should have sounded teasing, but Hikaru was hurt by the idea that Akira would even contemplate asking someone else to fill the role.
It must have been the hour, or maybe his intoxication, because Akira actually deigned to reply seriously to the comment. "I couldn't replace you, Hikaru. You are my best friend."
Hearing Akira say that was a first, and Hikaru didn't know what to say. For so long they had talked about their rivalry, the passion they felt about the games they played together, and their individual commitment to not being left behind. Over the past decade, they had challenged, infuriated, incited, amused and obsessed each other, but they had never actually admitted to friendship. Akira was shy by nature, and Hikaru had never been into the touchy-feely thing.
But it was the last night they would spend together like this, before their worlds changed. Hikaru wasn't stupid enough to think Akira's marriage wouldn't turn their current paradigm upside-down. Their apartment looked barren, with most of Akira's possessions packed up and ready to be moved to his new house, the one he and Akari had selected together. The place didn't feel right anymore, and while Hikaru was looking forward to marrying Asumi himself, he couldn't help but lament what was being lost.
"You're my best friend, too," he admitted. "And I love Asumi, and I want you to be happy with Akari, but I will miss how things have been."
"The only thing constant in this life is change," Akira replied, before smiling slightly. "And since we can't change our gender, we're just going to accept that."
"It's almost too bad. You'd make a really pretty girl," Hikaru said. He cupped his hands in front of his chest and bobbled the air. "Assuming you had a decent set of jugs."
It was a most unfortunate thing for him to say, because he had a hell of a time explaining the black eye to a nearly hysterical Akari the next morning. Akari, freaking out about how the wedding pictures would look like, had stridently demanded that Asumi take care of it.
Hikaru had then be subjected to a crash course in Makeup 101, with his disapproving fiancée layering cover-up all over his face.
Akira had only smiled slightly on seeing the result, the upward curve of his lips only visible because Hikaru was looking for that smirk. "You'd make a very pretty girl - you've already got a head start on the makeup department."
"You already are one. If you weren't wearing that tux, people would be asking who the bride was."
"I thought you wanted to be the bride, Hikaru-chan," Akira said in a deadpan voice.
It was only the intervention of Ashiwara, Ogata and Mitani that kept Akira from having bruises of his own to deal with.
by aishuu
Dawn was less than two hours away, and Hikaru knew they should be heading to bed. Akira's wedding was tomorrow, and they needed to be at church by noon. It was Hikaru's responsibility as best man to make sure that Akira showed up on time, which he fully intended to carry out. Waya had informed him that according to western tradition, the best man had to marry the bride if the groom was a no-show. As much as he loved Akari, he definitely didn't want to end up hitched to her. The very idea made him shudder a bit inside.
But even as the clock worked its way forward, he couldn't bring himself to point out how late it was. The game - their third for the night - was only halfway finished, and he didn't want this moment to end. For tonight, it would be him, Akira and the goban.
Akira's eyes had the slumberous look of someone fighting a losing battle with sleep - in another fifteen minutes he would likely keel over from fatigue. It had been a very long day for them both - seeing to the final arrangements for the wedding had taken hours, and the requisite stag night that had served to celebrate Akira's last night of bachelorhood had gone past midnight.
He couldn't help but smirk slightly as he remembered Akira's reaction to the festivities. He knew his best friend well enough to understanding that the traditional night of boozing and risque entertainment wouldn't be enjoyable. While the idea of making Akira squirm held some appeal, Hikaru's rarely seen practical streak had asserted itself. Akira would be organizing his own bachelor party in six months, and it wouldn't be wise to piss him off.
So instead Hikaru had used his own vaunted creativity, and thrown a "funeral" for Akira's freedom. It had been a blast - the guys had gotten into the spirit and delivered eulogies for Akira's bachelorhood, lamenting everything Akira would be giving up. Even Akira's father had gotten into the mood, delivering the coup de grace as he pointed out that Akira's newlywed state would ensure an end to the 3 A.M. Games he played against Hikaru - before adding slyly that Akira would find more enjoyable ways to spend those early morning hours.
The unexpected ribaldry from the well-respected Meijin had sent the already inebriated men into fits of laughter. Akira, bolstered by three shots of sake, had turned a brilliant crimson and lowered his head to try to hide it, triggering another explosion of chuckles. Hikaru, as host, who had stuck to ginger ale to make sure everyone got home safely, found it hard to laugh.
All in all, the party had been a success. Hikaru had elected to hold it at their apartment - the final joint event they would host, and had seen the last of the guests into a taxi before returning to challenge Akira to a game of go to complete the celebration. Akira, of course, had accepted.
That one game had turned into two, and then three. Their go was lazy tonight, a familiar dance that lacked their usual intensity. Hikaru was keyed up, and Akira was exhausted and a bit high from the alcohol he'd consumed. But it was still a comfortable game; their go was as familiar as a pair of well-worn shoes, sliding easily onto tired feet.
As Hikaru laid a stone down on the goban, he felt a slight twinge of resentment toward Akari. He and Akira had shared an apartment for three years, and he'd been enjoying their life together. They'd hang out and play go for hours on end, living in each other's pockets. Seeing Akira first thing in the morning and last thing at night had become something he'd cherished.
And now Akira was going to let that go, in pursuit of a wife and family. It didn't seem fair. Maybe it was Hikaru's fatigue that loosened his tongue. "Are you sure you have to get married tomorrow?"
Akira's eyelids, which had been fluttering at half-mast for the past hour, flew wide open. He sat up straighter, tilting his head to the left as he considered his soon-to-be-ex-roommate. "I think Akari wouldn't like it if I decided to postpone because we got caught up in a game."
Obviously Akira wasn't getting the root of Hikaru's distress. "I mean married at all, you twit," he said grumpily.
"Is there some reason I shouldn't marry Akari?" Akira asked in a very level voice, before laying a white stone in a threatening, bold play. Although his cheeks were still slightly flushed, Hikaru knew Akira's mind was now fully focused on their discussion.
Hikaru tried not to squirm. It was ridiculous; Akira had a certain tone of voice that sounded sickeningly like the one Shindou Masako had once used on her son to good effect. It was the tone that let Hikaru know he was walking a very, very thin line, and saying the wrong thing would land him in a massive about of trouble. "It's very weird to think of you marrying my childhood friend," he said carefully.
"You were the one that introduced us."
"I didn't realize you'd decide to do something silly like fall in love!" As soon as the words crossed his lips, Hikaru hastily slammed his hands over his mouth in a reflective attempt to protect himself.
"Silly? Should I ask Asumi about how silly love is?" Akira sounded more amused than annoyed, a small glimmer of hope that Hikaru might be able to stop digging the grave he'd been shoveling.
"Don't bring her into this."
"It seems fair enough to me that Asumi be informed what her fiance thinks about love. If I tell her tomorrow, you might have enough time to get the wedding deposits back."
Hikaru slammed a slate stone down harder than he should have, even though the goban had seen plenty of play in the past. Thankfully he didn't damage the spruce surface at all. "That's not what I meant!"
Akira leaned back, propping his body up with his hands and ignoring the fact it was his turn to play. "Then what did you mean?"
Hikaru averted his eyes from Akira's inquisitive gaze, lowering his head to hide behind the fringe of his bangs. "I like our life right now. I don't want it to change."
"You don't want to grow up?" Akira asked, and he sounded so blasé that Hikaru couldn't ignore the sarcasm. "I think most people would agree you don't need to worry about that happening any time soon."
"I didn't mean that, jackass. I just meant that I don't see why we have to change a good thing. I mean, don't you like living with me?"
"It's fine, Hikaru, but I love Akari and want her to be my wife." He paused. "There are some benefits to the arrangement that you wouldn't be able to provide."
He knew exactly what Akira was implying. The idea of Akira having sex was kind of scary and so very, very weird that Hikaru felt sick at the thought. But he was too fatigued at that moment to censor any of his thoughts. "You make me wish I was gay," Hikaru said, sounding almost sulky.
Later, when he was more awake, Hikaru would pinpoint that comment as when the conversation went horribly, horribly wrong.
Akira sat up abruptly, not sure what the appropriate response to that declaration was. "I'm glad you're not?" he replied tentatively a moment later.
"I don't mean it like that!" Hikaru protested again, sounding like a broken record.
Akira inched away from the goban, seeming concerned about being too close to Hikaru. This was not a conversation he wanted to be part of - like most men, the very idea of homosexuality made him want to run toward the door. "There's nothing wrong with being gay, Hikaru," he said. "But I'm definitely not, so if you're about to confess your undying love for me, I'm afraid you're going to be greatly disappointed."
"I'm not queer! I like women, older women with nice chests!" Hikaru pounded his fist against the carpeted floor to try to emphasize that he most definitely did not swing that way. "Which you definitely aren't - I swear you're so thin you'd fall through a sidewalk crack. I'm just saying that it would have been nice if we were attracted to each other - then you wouldn't have to move."
"So you're saying you wished we were gay because you want to play go with me," Akira said, giving him a pitying look. "There's something seriously wrong with you, Shindou."
Hikaru wanted to run his head into the wall, or throw Akira out the window, or find a way to rewind time so this horrible conversation never was initiated. Sometimes his stupid mouth just got way ahead of his common sense. "There is not! You're just my favorite person to spend time with, though I'm kind of wondering why right now. I thought you wanted to play go with me more than anything? Go is not sex. It's..." he trailed off.
Akira didn't need to hear the end of the sentence to understand. Go wasn't a hobby - it was a way of life, a game that defined their existence as they sought to expand their games toward the nebulous hand of god. If Akira had an hour to live, he'd want to spend it playing a final match against Hikaru.
"I see," he said neutrally, although his frame was still half-rigid with tension.
Which was really not nice of him, Hikaru thought. "I'm not going to jump you or anything. I already have a cock of my own - I'm not interested in yours."
"Shindou!" Akira snapped, looking sternly disapproving at the very mention of their intimate parts. In ten years, he'd be a carbon-copy of his traditional role model father, so proper and rigid that his back could be used as a ruler. "I'm not interested in talking about your... your... thing with you."
Akira's prudish horror was enough to make Hikaru start to snicker as he realized just how ridiculous this whole discussion was. "I believe you were the one who mentioned what your fiancée could provide. Which, by the way, ew. Akari's like my sister, and I do not want that mental picture."
"You're the one who wished he was gay for me," Akira snapped back. "And I'm not discussing this with you anymore. I think we should forget this ever came up, and go to bed."
"Together? Gee, Akira, I'm sorry but I don't swing that way." Hikaru really needed to learn when to just shut up and let a topic die, but he was unable to resist trying to get the last word.
"You get within three feet of me, and I'm kicking you where it hurts hard enough that you don't move for a week," Akira threatened. "I can always ask Ashiwara to be my best man."
"You value our friendship so little that you'd replace me, just like that?" It should have sounded teasing, but Hikaru was hurt by the idea that Akira would even contemplate asking someone else to fill the role.
It must have been the hour, or maybe his intoxication, because Akira actually deigned to reply seriously to the comment. "I couldn't replace you, Hikaru. You are my best friend."
Hearing Akira say that was a first, and Hikaru didn't know what to say. For so long they had talked about their rivalry, the passion they felt about the games they played together, and their individual commitment to not being left behind. Over the past decade, they had challenged, infuriated, incited, amused and obsessed each other, but they had never actually admitted to friendship. Akira was shy by nature, and Hikaru had never been into the touchy-feely thing.
But it was the last night they would spend together like this, before their worlds changed. Hikaru wasn't stupid enough to think Akira's marriage wouldn't turn their current paradigm upside-down. Their apartment looked barren, with most of Akira's possessions packed up and ready to be moved to his new house, the one he and Akari had selected together. The place didn't feel right anymore, and while Hikaru was looking forward to marrying Asumi himself, he couldn't help but lament what was being lost.
"You're my best friend, too," he admitted. "And I love Asumi, and I want you to be happy with Akari, but I will miss how things have been."
"The only thing constant in this life is change," Akira replied, before smiling slightly. "And since we can't change our gender, we're just going to accept that."
"It's almost too bad. You'd make a really pretty girl," Hikaru said. He cupped his hands in front of his chest and bobbled the air. "Assuming you had a decent set of jugs."
It was a most unfortunate thing for him to say, because he had a hell of a time explaining the black eye to a nearly hysterical Akari the next morning. Akari, freaking out about how the wedding pictures would look like, had stridently demanded that Asumi take care of it.
Hikaru had then be subjected to a crash course in Makeup 101, with his disapproving fiancée layering cover-up all over his face.
Akira had only smiled slightly on seeing the result, the upward curve of his lips only visible because Hikaru was looking for that smirk. "You'd make a very pretty girl - you've already got a head start on the makeup department."
"You already are one. If you weren't wearing that tux, people would be asking who the bride was."
"I thought you wanted to be the bride, Hikaru-chan," Akira said in a deadpan voice.
It was only the intervention of Ashiwara, Ogata and Mitani that kept Akira from having bruises of his own to deal with.