[Tan]
by degrees
A Certain Kind of Sadness
Akira was happy.
He couldn't remember a time when he had been so overfull with happiness. He was in his room, and laying beside him was a very naked, very sated Shindou Hikaru. His muscles were all overtired, and they both covered in a light sheen of sweat from the exertion of sex coupled with the heat of the humid early August night.
Sex.
With Shindou.
Akira almost couldn't believe that those two things were able to be put into the same sentence, and it wouldn't be a dream. He brought a hand up to his face to rake his hair away from his eyes as a way to hide the wide, elated smile that blossomed on his face, though he was fairly sure Shindou was already asleep and wouldn't see. It wasn't as if that night was the first night they had been together, but it still felt a little surreal. Some days, he woke up wondering if he had hallucinated their confession of mutual attraction, if a fever had made him go temporarily insane and he was actually still unconscious.
But then his phone would ring, and Shindou's voice on the other end, low and a little rough with embarrassment, would tell him how much he wanted to see him, and Akira would want to die with happiness.
As Shindou gently snored, his bangs falling into eyes that fluttered with the movement that told Akira he was dreaming, he stared at the person who had taken over so many of his thoughts since he was twelve years old. Even when they had been younger, and he had resolved to not think of Shindou after that disappointment of a game at the middle school tournament, the act of studiously not thinking of Shindou was a way of thinking about him. Akira worried his lower lip between his teeth, still kiss-swollen and tender from their earlier activities, and felt his heart skip a beat.
This was definitely not a position he thought they would end up in, but he couldn't imagine the two of them any other way. So much of who he had become was due in part to the person sleeping next to him. He didn't know what would have happened if he had never met the enigmatic Shindou Hikaru, but he knew that his life probably wouldn't have felt quite so fulfilling without the bright, eager, energetic rival-cum-lover he had found.
With a tiny, hesitant smile, Akira reached a hand toward Hikaru's shoulder, a stray moonbeam from the window reflecting off the smooth skin laid bare before him. Millimeters before his fingertips touched him, he pulled himself back, feeling as though it were something not allowed. They had been together only a handful of times, and yet he still held himself back though he wanted to throw everything he was, and everything he would become at Shindou. He knew for certain that he wouldn't love anyone as deeply or as intensely as he loved his rival.
Knowing his heart could practically be heard throughout the room, Akira swallowed thickly, the overwhelming emotions feeling as if they would spill forth at any moment and he would be powerless to stop them. He didn't know what Shindou felt, if he felt anything close to the love Akira did, and he was content to wait until Shindou felt ready to tell him in his own words, rather than forcing his hand. He didn't want to scare him away, or make him feel as though he were obligated to return any sentiment that he vocalized.
But there was one thing he wanted to do, one thing to solidify this insubstantial feeling of the two of them together, the impossibility of it almost making him think it all had been a beautiful, heartrending dream. Shifting, the blankets covering their naked forms rustling softly in the darkness, Akira moved himself closer. Doing his best to not disturb Shindou from sleep, he takes an unsteady breath and brings his face close to Shindou's head, spooning him from behind. His nose nuzzles whisper-soft against Shindou's dark hair, and he smells the products he uses in addition to an undercurrent of the sweat of their exertions. Being so close, he allowed himself to touch the shoulder he hadn't let himself touch a few moment before. Cupping it with his palm, he smoothed his hand down toward Shindou's elbow as he closed his eyes.
"Hikaru," he breathed, barely a whisper, giving voice to a name he had only murmured in his most private thoughts. Apparently, it was enough to stir Shindou, who started from sleep with a soft groan and brought a hand up to rub at his eyes tiredly. Akira's cheeks flamed at having been caught, and he opened his mouth to explain himself. "Shin--"
Shindou preempted his explanation, however, with a sleep-roughened voice. "'m sleeping, Sai; we'll play tomorrow." Burying his face in his pillow, Shindou sighed and fell back asleep almost as quickly as he had been roused from it.
It was funny how a few offhand words spoken at an inopportune time could send Akira spiraling from a place of so much tentative happiness to one where it had felt like the bottom had dropped out from beneath his stomach. Pushing himself away from Shindou, Touya stared at him in the darkness, wanting to shake him awake and demand to know what he had just said. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the shadowy ceiling his head swimming with questions he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers to.
Akira lay like that the rest of the night, unable to get his mind to quiet down enough to sleep. He spent hour upon hour until the first kiss of dawn crept along the walls trying to convince himself that he'd misheard Shindou, that he was being paranoid and finding a way to sabotage his own happiness. But the more he thought about it, the less he was able fool himself into thinking it was a mistake.
As the reality of the situation sank in, he found himself trying to think of reasons Shindou would have said that name, rather than 'Akira', or even a simple 'Touya', trying to justify it, to make it all right. Perhaps that's the person who taught him to play," he thought, trying to grasp at an innocent situation. It would explain so much if it were the truth. Turning onto his side, Akira let his eyes slide shut as he brought his knees up to his chest. Such a simple explanation was exactly that: too simple. In his limited experience in the world, Akira had come to realize that truth resisted simplicity with few exceptions.
The clock crept forward as Akira's mind fell to imagining increasingly intimate scenes, chewing on his knuckle as each flashed before his vision.
Shindou, covered in a slip of a sheet but only just, his skin a stark, pale contrast to the darkness of the room. A shadowy figure across the goban, the silvery moonlight highlighting the game between them. Shindou's hair shining almost ethereally as he shared a secret smile with his opponent. The atmosphere between the two close; the intrusion of an outsider would be unwelcome.
Akira opened his eyes, sitting up as he took several gulps of air. He couldn't lay there any more, and let his imagination torture him. He needed to get out, to clear his head. Carefully, he slipped out of the futon and gathered his clothing, carrying them to the bathroom so he could change without disturbing his still-snoring bed mate. Staring into the mirror as he buttoned his shirt, he saw the dark circles lining his eyes and frowned. Bringing a hand up to cover his face, he slumped over the sink, his usually impeccable posture brought to a slouch from the weight of his thoughts.
"I'm being ridiculous," he murmured to the empty room, the echo of his voice amplified in the silence. "I am sure there is a logical explanation. I just have to ask for it." The words were firm, more of an order than a statement of fact. Rubbing at his eyes, Akira straightened up, determined to put it from his mind. Nothing good would come from dwelling on it. He would just ask Shindou when he got the chance. With somewhat steadier hands, he finished dressing himself, emerging from the bathroom and checking that Shindou was still sleeping.
Even with his newfound resolution, he wasn't quite ready to face things yet. After some air, he told himself, as he wrote Shindou a quick note to place beside him.
Shindou-
I had an early tutoring session I had to leave for. Feel free to eat anything in the kitchen when you wake. I left a key to the house on the dining room table, please lock up when you leave. You can drop the key in the mail box on your way out.
-Touya
There was no tutoring session, and he felt bad about the lie, but Touya couldn't leave without an explanation, and "You said someone else's name while in bed with me, so I can't face you right now," just didn't seem like something one would say in a short note. That would almost be like cheating, letting the confrontation happen without being present for it.
If there was one thing Akira wasn't, it was a cheater. He would do this the right way, even if it wasn't immediate. A few hours would help smooth his frayed nerves and sudden doubts, he was sure. No matter what the niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach was telling him. Leaving the note on the pillow next to Shindou's head, he grabbed his wallet and phone, departing the house into the grey early-morning light.
Akira spent the morning walking. He wasn't headed anywhere in particular, but eventually found himself in the neighborhood of the Go Association. By that time it had been several hours since he had left Shindou in his room, and he had yet to come to any sort of reconciliation with himself about what he had heard. His head was at war with his heart, and his bruised heart was winning. No matter how much he told himself that Shindou was with him, was his, had chosen him over everyone else he could have chosen, his heart kept whispering that if that had been true, the name on Shindou's lips that night would have been his.
Pausing in the middle of the sidewalk, Akira closed his eyes and willed the thought away. It didn't mean anything. He would have told me about something like that, wouldn't he?
His thoughts were interrupted by a vibration in his pocket. He pulled his phone out and glanced at the caller ID display. Shindou. Biting his lower lip hesitantly, he pressed a button that shut the vibration off, letting the call go to voice mail. He didn't think he could handle hearing Shindou's voice at that moment, it would have been too much. He felt like he would fly apart at the seams if he didn't get answers, but it was preferable to the heartbreak he wasn't ready for.
So many what ifs demanding answers, yet lacking the courage to pursue them. He was disappointed in himself.
Another vibration told Akira that Shindou had left him a message. Flipping the phone open with his thumb, he accessed his voice mail and pressed the phone to his ear.
Hey Touya. Why didn't you tell me you had to get up early? You should have woken me or something, it was kind of weird waking up alone in your bed. Ah heh, I mean, not bad weird though. It was sort of nice, but it would have been nicer if you were still there. Anyway, I left your key where you told me to. If you have some time later, we should get together and do something. Maybe dinner or something. If you want. Call me and let me know. Bye.
The words made his heart race and stomach clench, and he listened to the message a second time before disconnecting from his voice mail and shoving his phone decisively into his pocket. He would call Shindou later.
But later turned into several days, and when he received a text message from Shindou the following Wednesday, he almost couldn't bring himself to read it. Steeling himself, he pulled it up. It was fairly innocuous, even caring. That almost hurt more than silence would have.
From: Shindou
Date: 13/08/20xx 09:14
Subj: [none]
Hey Touya. You never called me, so I was wondering what was going on. Everything okay?
To: Shindou
Date: 13/08/20xx 17:49
Subj: RE: [none]
Everything is fine. I am just busy, getting ready for my next match and the Go festival in Hokkaido next week.
From: Shindou
Date: 13/08/20xx 17:52
Subj: Re: RE: [none]
Oh you're going to the thing in Hokkaido? I didn't know you were on the schedule for that. I'm not, so I guess I'll have to live without you for a while.
To: Shindou
Date: 14/08/20xx 11:20
Subj: RE: Re: RE: [none]
It was a last minute request.
From: Shindou
Date: 14/08/20xx 11:33
Subj: Re: RE: Re: RE: [none]
Oh, awesome. You sure you can't take a bit of time off to see me? We haven't gotten to play in almost a week.
To: Shindou
Date: 14/08/20xx 20:01
Subj: RE: Re: RE: Re: RE: [none]
I can't really spare the time.
From: Shindou
Date: 14/08/20xx 20:07
Subj: It was getting long
Oh, well. If you change your mind let me know. I'd like to see you.
The more Akira thought about that night, the worse he felt. It was a circle of despair he was powerless to stop. The only escape would be to put his doubts to rest, but that would mean confronting Shindou. He had resolved to do so, many times, but each time he glanced at his phone to call his rival, the thought of, One more day, perhaps everything will just fix itself if I give it one more day, kept him from phoning him. But with each day that passed the sick feeling only increased, along with his avoidance Shindou.
Several weeks went by that way, with Akira giving increasingly flimsy excuses for not seeing Shindou. As the excuses piled up, so did the scenarios he had been collecting, many of which were so implausible as to be impossible. The internet go player sai would probably not have kept Shindou as a Go-playing slave, and yet much of his free time was spent imagining situation, and coming up with even more nonsensical fictional explanations.
The only solace Akira could find was during his official matches. He could turn off the part of himself concerned with Shindou, and focus wholeheartedly on the game. It was a relief after so much agonizing, and the hours he spent before the goban with his opponents were the most peaceful.
Occasionally, though, he would play a move that would make him wonder how Shindou would respond, and just the act of thinking of his rival would bring everything flooding back. It was difficult to regain his game-calm if that happened, and more than one mistake could be attributed to him thinking too much about Shindou and not enough about the game at hand. It was never enough to cause a decisive defeat, but it came too close for comfort for him once or twice. Something was going to have to give, and soon.
It was nearly a month later when Shindou finally cornered him in his father's salon. Akira had been playing a game of shidougo with one of the regulars, nearing endgame, when a commotion at the entrance drew his attention.
"Touya!" The familiar boisterous voice made his heart sink. He knew he couldn't avoid him forever, but he just wasn't ready to see him yet. He didn't know if he'd ever be ready.
"Shindou, be quiet!" Ichikawa scolded as she held her hand out to take Shindou's bag. Akira couldn't hear what Shindou grumbled, but as he handed over his bag he was more subdued than when he had burst in.
"We're almost done anyway," the customer, whose name he could not recall for the life of him through the haze of panic, said kindly. "You can go play your rival."
Akira murmured a faint, "Thank you," as he bowed and thanked him for the game. Clearing the stones away took less time than he would have liked, and all too soon he was making his way toward the table at the back, where Shindou was waiting for him. He could feel his rival's eyes studying him as he picked a path between the chairs and tables, and he fought to keep an embarrassed blush from rising to his cheeks.
"Shindou, you look well," he said softly as he finally sat in the chair opposite Shindou.
"Yeah I'm good. But more importantly, what the heck is going on with you? It's like you've been avoiding me or something." Shindou demanded immediately in a low voice, ignoring the board and stones before them. Akira wished he could have a game to distract him, but left his hands resting in his lap rather than reaching for the goke. "I feel like you fell off the face of the earth. I haven't seen you in ages!"
"I've been busy," Akira protested lamely, knowing the excuse was flimsy at best.
"Sure, so have I. But we've always found time for each other before. What's going on? You don't seem too busy today. You could have called me or something and we could have played." Shindou gave me an accusing glare, but Akira refused to meet his eyes. "I missed you," he murmured in an embarrassed-sounding whisper, making Akira's heart skip a beat.
No matter how hurt he was, Shindou still had the power to turn his world sideways.
"I... I apologize for that," he said, twisting his fingers together in his lap, staring resolutely at the lines of the goban between them. If this were a game, he'd know exactly where to play, how to make sense of the battlefield in front of him, how to avoid the traps and pitfalls. A hane here, a keima there, capture a stone, avoid a ko fight that had no merit.
Here, he was powerless, and without a strategy.
"Apolo-- Touya, seriously what's wrong? You're kind of worrying me."
The blood rushed through his ears loudly as his heart attempted to pound itself out of his chest. He took several deep breaths to try and calm himself, but it didn't work as well as he had hoped. After several seconds of silence, Akira finally opened his mouth to try and offer an explanation, a reason, anything.
What fell out instead, was, "Tell me about sai. I need to know what he is to you." His heart rate increased even more as he realized what he had said, and he looked up to see a flabbergasted Shindou staring at him.
The only response he received was a dumbfounded, "What?"
"I have to know, it's killing me," he admitted in low tones, his voice sounding a little weak to his own ears. He hated that he sounded that way, that another person could make him sound that way.
"What is this all of a sudden?" Shindou asked, tilting his head to the side with a look Akira didn't know how to read. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, and from the stubborn set of Shindou's chin he knew getting answers wasn't going to be easy. He had known that all along, but somewhere in the back of his mind he'd always thought the conversation would happen naturally. "I told you I would tell you someday, when I'm ready."
"It's something I need to know," Akira answered softly. It wasn't much of an answer, but it was all he had to offer. His stomach twisted, the anxious butterflies occupying it for the last month fluttering even more as he schooled his features into a mask of calm. It was easy, even with the tumultuous emotions brewing beneath the surface. He did it every time he had an official match, it was almost second nature.
Silence stretched out between them until Akira thought Shindou was going to simply sit there and stare at him for the rest of the afternoon and evening. When he finally spoke, it was what he had somehow known would be said.
"Touya, I don't know what to tell you. I'm just not ready to talk about it yet."
Akira paused, his eyes raking over Shindou's face; the way he avoided his gaze and stared down at his hands. It made his stomach twist, much the same as it had that night when instead of his own name, he heard the name of an internet go player on the lips of his lover.
"I like to think I'm a patient person," Akira said softly, his voice a little distant in his anxiety. "but it's been so long already. If not now, then when?" Even as the words formed, Akira wished he could take them back. For as long as he wanted to know about Hikaru's connection with sai, about the mysteriousness of his go, about the other person that existed in his game... he wasn't sure if he could handle it now. Not when he knew that Shindou's -- Hikaru's, -- first thought at hearing his name spoken in the dead of night was not of him, but of someone else. Someone who was so like a ghost: there, but not.
"Touya..." Hikaru murmured, drawing his name out in confusion, and suddenly it was too much for Akira to take. Clenching his hands into fists as they rested on his knees, he tucked his chin in to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Say something, anything. Lie to me. I don't care, just stop leaving me hanging like this." He knew he sounded unreasonable, irrational even. But as he tried to calm his thundering heart, he knew also that this confrontation would have come sooner or later. Better to have it out and done with, right?
"What's gotten into you, Touya?" Hikaru asked, his confused voice gaining a note of irritated concern.
And that, Touya thought, took the cake. Of course Shindou wouldn't remember something like that. Something so small; so small and yet so utterly world-shattering as saying someone else's name while they were in bed together. His head swam and his ears rang as vertigo took hold for several seconds. He heard himself laughing softly, then stood abruptly.
"Nothing, forget it. Just forget all of it. I need to go." Without waiting for an answer, he spun on his heel and walked out of the room, his eyes firmly planted on the ground in front of him. He needed to get away, to clear his head, to cleanse himself of the sickening jealousy that had curled its icy fingers around his heart.
Akira felt like a coward, running from the confrontation the way he was, but Go wasn't like real life, and a fight on the board or the path determining the life and death of stones wasn't nearly as difficult to face as the ugliness and irrationality of emotions and relationships. Give me a goban any day, he thought as he walked out into the fading sun of the late afternoon.
"Touya wait!" Shindou called out behind him, and Akira fought the urge to run like a scared rabbit, if only because Shindou could outrun him any day of the week. He didn't slow his pace, however, and he definitely didn't do as he was asked. He could hear Shindou's pounding footsteps approaching, and as much as he wished he could ignore the hurricane that was Shindou Hikaru's presence, he knew he would always be drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
Perhaps much like the moth, to his own destruction.
Shindou grabbed his elbow, tugging him backwards to try and stop him, and Akira made a cursory attempt to jerk his arm away from Shindou's grasp.
"I would prefer to be alone right now, Shindou," Akira stated, his clipped tones icy and unwelcoming. As usual, though, Shindou ignored all unspoken but clear warnings and plowed straight ahead. It was one of the things Akira both loved and hated about him in equal measure.
"What is the matter with you?" Shindou practically yelled, drawing the stares of pedestrians and passersby, and causing color to rise to Akira's cheeks. He jerked his elbow once more, breaking the hold Shindou had over his body.
If only it could be so easy to break the grasp over everything else of his Shindou had a hold on.
That isn't fair, he thought, even as he wished he could go back to the innocent days where the two of them were simply rivals in the game they both loved, and not entangled so messily in feelings extraneous to the game. It isn't his fault I feel like this, not really. He's not an object I can be the sole owner of.
His rationality lost in the wake of his aching heart, though, and he glared tiredly at Shindou. "I would rather not have an audience for this," he said with a longsuffering sigh, without adding that he would rather not be present for it either. He had spent so much emotion in the last several weeks, that he was tired. Emotionally tired, soul tired.
It's funny, he mentally laughed without any humor, how I know how to have a rival in Go; that I thrive on rivalry with my game, but when a rival in love comes along I don't know what to do with myself. Wearily Akira began walking again toward the subway so he could get himself home and begin to lick his wounds, hoping Shindou would finally get the hint. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky. It was just his lot in life to have chased the most singleminded person in Tokyo; he knew firsthand how when Shindou put his mind to something, he would make it happen come hell or high water.
It was infuriatingly endearing, and endlessly frustrating.
"Hey wait, don't go yet!" Shindou demanded, his hand gripping at the fabric of the sweater Akira was wearing. "You need to tell me what happened to bring this on," he continued, seemingly oblivious to everything but his need to pursue answers. "Come on, since you're so worried about causing a scene, come back to my house."
"Shindou," Akira said, leveling a glare at him that would have intimidated anyone but him. He knew it was futile to try and get out of the situation, much as he wanted to. "I am going to be honest with you right now. Your house is the last place I would like to be at the moment."
Akira knew what the reaction was going to be, even before it happened. "What are you saying, there's nothing wrong with my house!"
Holding up a hand to stop the oncoming diatribe about the virtues of the place he lived, Akira resisted the urge to rub his temples as he felt a headache coming on. The exasperation was almost enough to override the sick feeling that had been following him for weeks.
"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it," he clarified testily. "Just that it's the last place I want to be right now." Shindou gave him a baffled look, but Akira refused to clarify any further. He wasn't about to tell him that there were too many conflicting memories associated with that room, now, since it was the first place they had ever had sex. It was definitely not something he needed to be reminded of.
I wonder if sai has seen Shindou's room, his mind asked cruelly. Akira knew it was futile to torture himself this way, that someone having seen his room wasn't necessarily something to be jealous of. Especially since it was obvious sai had, seeing as Shindou had murmured in his sleep to the enigmatic player as if it had been a regular occurrence for him at one point.
He even knew that if Shindou had had sex before, it wasn't necessarily something he had a need -- or a right -- to be jealous over. But the sound of 'I... haven't ever done anything like this before,' rolled through his mind traitorously, making Akira wonder if he was going to question every conversation they'd had, and the veracity of every confession Shindou had made to him.
"Fine," Shindou said sulkily, making Akira roll his eyes at the childishness of his tone. "There's a park around here, right? Shouldn't be too many kids around since it's gonna be dark soon."
Akira thought for a moment, before nodding. A park would be sufficiently public that it was a neutral area for the two of them, and sufficiently private that any scenes that might happen wouldn't be witnessed by the general public. "There's a park a few minutes from here."
The two of them walked in near-silence, a distance between them where before they would be close enough for their hands to brush each other. Whether or not it was purposeful on Shindou's part was something Akira had not been able to figure out, but it had been enjoyable. Now, it was as if an invisible wall had been erected between the two of them, keeping them apart. He was sure to everyone around them it seemed normal, even proper, but to him it was just another show of how distant the two of them had become because of his own insecurities.
The entrance to the park came into view, and Akira's stomach clenched. He could hear the voices of several kids playing, but it was a lot quieter than it would have been during the day. They made their way toward the jungle gym, seeing it deserted in the fading light of the day.
"Let's sit here," Shindou said, pointing to a set of benches on a slope by the play set, before heading in the direction he was pointing. Akira followed him, sitting at the far end of one of the benches and staring straight ahead, unwilling to be the one to bring the subject up again.
Shindou fidgeted next to him, before the silence apparently became too much and he started talking. "Touya, you're being so strange today. I thought you understood that I would definitely tell you but I have to be ready. There's just so much that I have to work out, and it needs some more time. You understand, right?"
Under other circumstance, Akira would have just nodded, and reassured him. But things being what they were, it wasn't good enough for him. He was tired of the jealousy he felt, tired of overthinking everything, tired of losing sleep. Shaking his head, he looked over at Shindou sadly.
"You know, I don't even know if we're dating," Akira said in a conversational tone. "We've never really talked about it. All we really do is play Go. We've only slept together four times."
"Of course we're dating, what else would this--" Shindou started to protest, but Akira cut him off with a look as he finally came to a decision.
"I really think that it would be a good idea for us to break up," he finally murmured, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He had said it, actually spoke it out loud. It was real, and he couldn't take it back. It was both the best and the worst thing he had ever felt.
Akira saw Shindou's eyes widen, and his heart clenched in response. It almost felt unfair of him to do this, but he simply clenched his hands into fists and stood his ground. It was no way to have a relationship, being jealous of someone who hadn't even manifested himself physically in front of him. For all he knew, sai was a person in Shindou's past, never to come into his life again. But then again the opposite could be true. He may not be there at the moment, but who knew what the future would bring.
The second the thought crossed his mind, Akira knew it was foolish. Hikaru wouldn't be with him on a whim, to fill the time until somebody better came along. He wouldn't have chased him -- and caught him, in a manner of speaking -- if he intended on just letting him go like that. But Akira knew he couldn't be with Shindou as long as his thoughts continued to dwell on that night together, and the memory of the murmured name that wasn't his own.
"What are you talking about?!" Shindou yelped, standing with an abrupt, jerky movement and facing Akira with wild eyes. "I don't even know what I did wrong, and you're breaking up with me? Don't I even get a chance to explain myself? Come on, stop thinking fifty moves ahead. This is one place where I can't keep up with you. I can't fix something if I don't know how or why it broke!"
Frustrated, Akira looked down at the ground, studiously avoiding Shindou's upset gaze. He regretted bringing his concerns up in the first place, but he knew prolonging the conversation would only make things worse for both of them. "I will never live up to him," he ground out, squeezing his eyes shut against the negative emotions he felt as he remembered that night they were together. It was almost as vivid in his mind as when it had happened.
"'m sleeping, Sai; we'll play tomorrow."
"Live up to 'him'?" Shindou asked, his voice tilting up in confusion. "Live up to who? What are you talking about, Touya? You're making no sense at all today." He sighed, in exasperation, or annoyance, or frustration, Touya couldn't tell. "I can't read your mind, you have to tell me."
The words made Akira want to laugh cynically. It was a good thing Shindou wasn't a mind reader, since his thoughts were in such a jumble that it would only confuse Shindou more than he already was.
Akira eased his eyes open and leaned back against the bench, tilting his head back to look up at the sky, on fire with the orange and red hues of sunset. He could feel the ends of his hair brushing against the weatherworn wood of the bench. He could feel Shindou's eyes on him, studying him, but he ignored it in favor of watching a bird fly across his line of sight. He wished he could be that bird, free to come and go as he pleased, unencumbered by the social mores and emotional ties that bound him.
His tongue darted out, moistening his lips as he took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the sky above. "sai. I will never live up to sai. I don't know what exactly he is to you, but he's more important to you than I am." Involuntarily, Akira's hands crumpled the fabric of his slacks as he said the name, the handle of the genius Go player who had beaten him. The genius Go player he had once burned to have a rematch with. The genius Go player that he now burned in jealousy of instead.
"What? Sai? What the hell are you talking about, Touya?" Hikaru demanded vehemently, drawing Akira's eyes to him. He was looking at him as if he couldn't believe what Akira had said, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion or consternation. "That isn't the least bit true!"
"Isn't it?" Akira shot back, his voice low and intense. He straightened up, giving Shindou his full attention, the pain his face naked for his rival to see. "Then why won't you tell me about him, or anything?"
"You don't understand what you're saying, Touya. Sai... you just don't understand." Shindou stumbled over his words, and Akira turned his face away when it became clear no explanation would be forthcoming. His hair brushed against his cheek before settling, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he struggled to keep his tumultuous emotions in check.
"You're not making it any easier on me, you realize," he said curtly, in the voice he had before reserved for unwelcome social conversations.
"Whatever you're thinking right now, it's definitely wrong. Please believe me." The note of desperation in Shindou's voice startled Akira, and he glanced back to find him with an expression he had no idea how to read. Shindou was usually an open book when it came to his emotions with very few exceptions, and Akira didn't know what to think. He knew what he was thinking was probably wrong, but without an explanation to clear things up there was nothing keeping him from concocting scenarios of ever-increasing improbability that for all he knew were true.
Whether or not they were true, it wasn't fair to either of them to continue on, Akira knew. Relationships meant to last were founded on trust and communication, and at that moment they had neither. He just wished Shindou would understand that, and let it be.
"I wish I could," he answered honestly. "I do, but... all I know right now is that the last time we were together, in my room," Akira paused, swallowing thickly before continuing on, "that night, I said your given name. For the first time, I said it out loud." He laughed, a short, deprecating staccato. "And when it woke you, the first thing you said wasn't my name. You didn't even think of me. You thought it was sai."
Shindou stared wide-eyed at him, his mouth hanging open as the silence between them grew in the wake of the proclamation. Akira could tell he was trying to process the information, but knew that the time was long past for explanations. If there were any to be had, it would have been offered by then. There was only one thing left for him to do.
Akira stood up, his hands slowly opening to release the fabric of his slacks. The smile he gifted Shindou with didn't feel like much of a smile, it felt like a physical manifestation of his heartbreak, a way to show Shindou how much he was hurting without words. "You are always going to be my rival, my eternal rival," he said in a voice steadier than he felt. "Nothing is going to change that. We are bound together by our games. But right now, I can't be your lover. Please understand." He looked down at his hand, studying the lines etched into the palm, before closing it into a loose fist and gathering his conviction.
He closed his eyes, feeling the setting sun's rays warming his face as he turned westward, toward the park's entrance. His hands were shaking, but he felt a steadfast calm in his decision. It may have been painful, and he knew that in the future their interactions were going to be awkward. But he would face them with a clear head and a calm heart; he would have to. Akira wouldn't run away any more.
"Goodbye, Shindou," he murmured, his eyes opening to witness the sun dipping beneath the level of the cityscape, bathing the park in a chill enhanced by a breeze that whispered through the trees. Silence greeted his proclamation, but he didn't look back to see the expression Shindou was making. He knew it would only make his determination waver. Akira felt for Shindou, but he knew for himself his rival's resilience. He would get over this, may even become stronger because of it. They both would move on.
His shoes shuffled against the dirt, the sound deafening in the pervasive silence that surrounded them. One step, then another, each taking him further from his eternal rival. One breath, then another; one second, then another. He almost thought Shindou would follow him, would demand that this couldn't be it, but as he reached the entrance, and the sounds of everyday life enveloped him, it was with both regret and relief that he found he was alone.
Tomorrow, they would begin anew. Perhaps one day they could go back to being casual acquaintances, even friends. But for now, they would go their own ways.
A Certain Kind of Sadness
Akira was happy.
He couldn't remember a time when he had been so overfull with happiness. He was in his room, and laying beside him was a very naked, very sated Shindou Hikaru. His muscles were all overtired, and they both covered in a light sheen of sweat from the exertion of sex coupled with the heat of the humid early August night.
Sex.
With Shindou.
Akira almost couldn't believe that those two things were able to be put into the same sentence, and it wouldn't be a dream. He brought a hand up to his face to rake his hair away from his eyes as a way to hide the wide, elated smile that blossomed on his face, though he was fairly sure Shindou was already asleep and wouldn't see. It wasn't as if that night was the first night they had been together, but it still felt a little surreal. Some days, he woke up wondering if he had hallucinated their confession of mutual attraction, if a fever had made him go temporarily insane and he was actually still unconscious.
But then his phone would ring, and Shindou's voice on the other end, low and a little rough with embarrassment, would tell him how much he wanted to see him, and Akira would want to die with happiness.
As Shindou gently snored, his bangs falling into eyes that fluttered with the movement that told Akira he was dreaming, he stared at the person who had taken over so many of his thoughts since he was twelve years old. Even when they had been younger, and he had resolved to not think of Shindou after that disappointment of a game at the middle school tournament, the act of studiously not thinking of Shindou was a way of thinking about him. Akira worried his lower lip between his teeth, still kiss-swollen and tender from their earlier activities, and felt his heart skip a beat.
This was definitely not a position he thought they would end up in, but he couldn't imagine the two of them any other way. So much of who he had become was due in part to the person sleeping next to him. He didn't know what would have happened if he had never met the enigmatic Shindou Hikaru, but he knew that his life probably wouldn't have felt quite so fulfilling without the bright, eager, energetic rival-cum-lover he had found.
With a tiny, hesitant smile, Akira reached a hand toward Hikaru's shoulder, a stray moonbeam from the window reflecting off the smooth skin laid bare before him. Millimeters before his fingertips touched him, he pulled himself back, feeling as though it were something not allowed. They had been together only a handful of times, and yet he still held himself back though he wanted to throw everything he was, and everything he would become at Shindou. He knew for certain that he wouldn't love anyone as deeply or as intensely as he loved his rival.
Knowing his heart could practically be heard throughout the room, Akira swallowed thickly, the overwhelming emotions feeling as if they would spill forth at any moment and he would be powerless to stop them. He didn't know what Shindou felt, if he felt anything close to the love Akira did, and he was content to wait until Shindou felt ready to tell him in his own words, rather than forcing his hand. He didn't want to scare him away, or make him feel as though he were obligated to return any sentiment that he vocalized.
But there was one thing he wanted to do, one thing to solidify this insubstantial feeling of the two of them together, the impossibility of it almost making him think it all had been a beautiful, heartrending dream. Shifting, the blankets covering their naked forms rustling softly in the darkness, Akira moved himself closer. Doing his best to not disturb Shindou from sleep, he takes an unsteady breath and brings his face close to Shindou's head, spooning him from behind. His nose nuzzles whisper-soft against Shindou's dark hair, and he smells the products he uses in addition to an undercurrent of the sweat of their exertions. Being so close, he allowed himself to touch the shoulder he hadn't let himself touch a few moment before. Cupping it with his palm, he smoothed his hand down toward Shindou's elbow as he closed his eyes.
"Hikaru," he breathed, barely a whisper, giving voice to a name he had only murmured in his most private thoughts. Apparently, it was enough to stir Shindou, who started from sleep with a soft groan and brought a hand up to rub at his eyes tiredly. Akira's cheeks flamed at having been caught, and he opened his mouth to explain himself. "Shin--"
Shindou preempted his explanation, however, with a sleep-roughened voice. "'m sleeping, Sai; we'll play tomorrow." Burying his face in his pillow, Shindou sighed and fell back asleep almost as quickly as he had been roused from it.
It was funny how a few offhand words spoken at an inopportune time could send Akira spiraling from a place of so much tentative happiness to one where it had felt like the bottom had dropped out from beneath his stomach. Pushing himself away from Shindou, Touya stared at him in the darkness, wanting to shake him awake and demand to know what he had just said. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the shadowy ceiling his head swimming with questions he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers to.
Akira lay like that the rest of the night, unable to get his mind to quiet down enough to sleep. He spent hour upon hour until the first kiss of dawn crept along the walls trying to convince himself that he'd misheard Shindou, that he was being paranoid and finding a way to sabotage his own happiness. But the more he thought about it, the less he was able fool himself into thinking it was a mistake.
As the reality of the situation sank in, he found himself trying to think of reasons Shindou would have said that name, rather than 'Akira', or even a simple 'Touya', trying to justify it, to make it all right. Perhaps that's the person who taught him to play," he thought, trying to grasp at an innocent situation. It would explain so much if it were the truth. Turning onto his side, Akira let his eyes slide shut as he brought his knees up to his chest. Such a simple explanation was exactly that: too simple. In his limited experience in the world, Akira had come to realize that truth resisted simplicity with few exceptions.
The clock crept forward as Akira's mind fell to imagining increasingly intimate scenes, chewing on his knuckle as each flashed before his vision.
Shindou, covered in a slip of a sheet but only just, his skin a stark, pale contrast to the darkness of the room. A shadowy figure across the goban, the silvery moonlight highlighting the game between them. Shindou's hair shining almost ethereally as he shared a secret smile with his opponent. The atmosphere between the two close; the intrusion of an outsider would be unwelcome.
Akira opened his eyes, sitting up as he took several gulps of air. He couldn't lay there any more, and let his imagination torture him. He needed to get out, to clear his head. Carefully, he slipped out of the futon and gathered his clothing, carrying them to the bathroom so he could change without disturbing his still-snoring bed mate. Staring into the mirror as he buttoned his shirt, he saw the dark circles lining his eyes and frowned. Bringing a hand up to cover his face, he slumped over the sink, his usually impeccable posture brought to a slouch from the weight of his thoughts.
"I'm being ridiculous," he murmured to the empty room, the echo of his voice amplified in the silence. "I am sure there is a logical explanation. I just have to ask for it." The words were firm, more of an order than a statement of fact. Rubbing at his eyes, Akira straightened up, determined to put it from his mind. Nothing good would come from dwelling on it. He would just ask Shindou when he got the chance. With somewhat steadier hands, he finished dressing himself, emerging from the bathroom and checking that Shindou was still sleeping.
Even with his newfound resolution, he wasn't quite ready to face things yet. After some air, he told himself, as he wrote Shindou a quick note to place beside him.
Shindou-
I had an early tutoring session I had to leave for. Feel free to eat anything in the kitchen when you wake. I left a key to the house on the dining room table, please lock up when you leave. You can drop the key in the mail box on your way out.
-Touya
There was no tutoring session, and he felt bad about the lie, but Touya couldn't leave without an explanation, and "You said someone else's name while in bed with me, so I can't face you right now," just didn't seem like something one would say in a short note. That would almost be like cheating, letting the confrontation happen without being present for it.
If there was one thing Akira wasn't, it was a cheater. He would do this the right way, even if it wasn't immediate. A few hours would help smooth his frayed nerves and sudden doubts, he was sure. No matter what the niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach was telling him. Leaving the note on the pillow next to Shindou's head, he grabbed his wallet and phone, departing the house into the grey early-morning light.
Akira spent the morning walking. He wasn't headed anywhere in particular, but eventually found himself in the neighborhood of the Go Association. By that time it had been several hours since he had left Shindou in his room, and he had yet to come to any sort of reconciliation with himself about what he had heard. His head was at war with his heart, and his bruised heart was winning. No matter how much he told himself that Shindou was with him, was his, had chosen him over everyone else he could have chosen, his heart kept whispering that if that had been true, the name on Shindou's lips that night would have been his.
Pausing in the middle of the sidewalk, Akira closed his eyes and willed the thought away. It didn't mean anything. He would have told me about something like that, wouldn't he?
His thoughts were interrupted by a vibration in his pocket. He pulled his phone out and glanced at the caller ID display. Shindou. Biting his lower lip hesitantly, he pressed a button that shut the vibration off, letting the call go to voice mail. He didn't think he could handle hearing Shindou's voice at that moment, it would have been too much. He felt like he would fly apart at the seams if he didn't get answers, but it was preferable to the heartbreak he wasn't ready for.
So many what ifs demanding answers, yet lacking the courage to pursue them. He was disappointed in himself.
Another vibration told Akira that Shindou had left him a message. Flipping the phone open with his thumb, he accessed his voice mail and pressed the phone to his ear.
Hey Touya. Why didn't you tell me you had to get up early? You should have woken me or something, it was kind of weird waking up alone in your bed. Ah heh, I mean, not bad weird though. It was sort of nice, but it would have been nicer if you were still there. Anyway, I left your key where you told me to. If you have some time later, we should get together and do something. Maybe dinner or something. If you want. Call me and let me know. Bye.
The words made his heart race and stomach clench, and he listened to the message a second time before disconnecting from his voice mail and shoving his phone decisively into his pocket. He would call Shindou later.
But later turned into several days, and when he received a text message from Shindou the following Wednesday, he almost couldn't bring himself to read it. Steeling himself, he pulled it up. It was fairly innocuous, even caring. That almost hurt more than silence would have.
From: Shindou
Date: 13/08/20xx 09:14
Subj: [none]
Hey Touya. You never called me, so I was wondering what was going on. Everything okay?
To: Shindou
Date: 13/08/20xx 17:49
Subj: RE: [none]
Everything is fine. I am just busy, getting ready for my next match and the Go festival in Hokkaido next week.
From: Shindou
Date: 13/08/20xx 17:52
Subj: Re: RE: [none]
Oh you're going to the thing in Hokkaido? I didn't know you were on the schedule for that. I'm not, so I guess I'll have to live without you for a while.
To: Shindou
Date: 14/08/20xx 11:20
Subj: RE: Re: RE: [none]
It was a last minute request.
From: Shindou
Date: 14/08/20xx 11:33
Subj: Re: RE: Re: RE: [none]
Oh, awesome. You sure you can't take a bit of time off to see me? We haven't gotten to play in almost a week.
To: Shindou
Date: 14/08/20xx 20:01
Subj: RE: Re: RE: Re: RE: [none]
I can't really spare the time.
From: Shindou
Date: 14/08/20xx 20:07
Subj: It was getting long
Oh, well. If you change your mind let me know. I'd like to see you.
The more Akira thought about that night, the worse he felt. It was a circle of despair he was powerless to stop. The only escape would be to put his doubts to rest, but that would mean confronting Shindou. He had resolved to do so, many times, but each time he glanced at his phone to call his rival, the thought of, One more day, perhaps everything will just fix itself if I give it one more day, kept him from phoning him. But with each day that passed the sick feeling only increased, along with his avoidance Shindou.
Several weeks went by that way, with Akira giving increasingly flimsy excuses for not seeing Shindou. As the excuses piled up, so did the scenarios he had been collecting, many of which were so implausible as to be impossible. The internet go player sai would probably not have kept Shindou as a Go-playing slave, and yet much of his free time was spent imagining situation, and coming up with even more nonsensical fictional explanations.
The only solace Akira could find was during his official matches. He could turn off the part of himself concerned with Shindou, and focus wholeheartedly on the game. It was a relief after so much agonizing, and the hours he spent before the goban with his opponents were the most peaceful.
Occasionally, though, he would play a move that would make him wonder how Shindou would respond, and just the act of thinking of his rival would bring everything flooding back. It was difficult to regain his game-calm if that happened, and more than one mistake could be attributed to him thinking too much about Shindou and not enough about the game at hand. It was never enough to cause a decisive defeat, but it came too close for comfort for him once or twice. Something was going to have to give, and soon.
It was nearly a month later when Shindou finally cornered him in his father's salon. Akira had been playing a game of shidougo with one of the regulars, nearing endgame, when a commotion at the entrance drew his attention.
"Touya!" The familiar boisterous voice made his heart sink. He knew he couldn't avoid him forever, but he just wasn't ready to see him yet. He didn't know if he'd ever be ready.
"Shindou, be quiet!" Ichikawa scolded as she held her hand out to take Shindou's bag. Akira couldn't hear what Shindou grumbled, but as he handed over his bag he was more subdued than when he had burst in.
"We're almost done anyway," the customer, whose name he could not recall for the life of him through the haze of panic, said kindly. "You can go play your rival."
Akira murmured a faint, "Thank you," as he bowed and thanked him for the game. Clearing the stones away took less time than he would have liked, and all too soon he was making his way toward the table at the back, where Shindou was waiting for him. He could feel his rival's eyes studying him as he picked a path between the chairs and tables, and he fought to keep an embarrassed blush from rising to his cheeks.
"Shindou, you look well," he said softly as he finally sat in the chair opposite Shindou.
"Yeah I'm good. But more importantly, what the heck is going on with you? It's like you've been avoiding me or something." Shindou demanded immediately in a low voice, ignoring the board and stones before them. Akira wished he could have a game to distract him, but left his hands resting in his lap rather than reaching for the goke. "I feel like you fell off the face of the earth. I haven't seen you in ages!"
"I've been busy," Akira protested lamely, knowing the excuse was flimsy at best.
"Sure, so have I. But we've always found time for each other before. What's going on? You don't seem too busy today. You could have called me or something and we could have played." Shindou gave me an accusing glare, but Akira refused to meet his eyes. "I missed you," he murmured in an embarrassed-sounding whisper, making Akira's heart skip a beat.
No matter how hurt he was, Shindou still had the power to turn his world sideways.
"I... I apologize for that," he said, twisting his fingers together in his lap, staring resolutely at the lines of the goban between them. If this were a game, he'd know exactly where to play, how to make sense of the battlefield in front of him, how to avoid the traps and pitfalls. A hane here, a keima there, capture a stone, avoid a ko fight that had no merit.
Here, he was powerless, and without a strategy.
"Apolo-- Touya, seriously what's wrong? You're kind of worrying me."
The blood rushed through his ears loudly as his heart attempted to pound itself out of his chest. He took several deep breaths to try and calm himself, but it didn't work as well as he had hoped. After several seconds of silence, Akira finally opened his mouth to try and offer an explanation, a reason, anything.
What fell out instead, was, "Tell me about sai. I need to know what he is to you." His heart rate increased even more as he realized what he had said, and he looked up to see a flabbergasted Shindou staring at him.
The only response he received was a dumbfounded, "What?"
"I have to know, it's killing me," he admitted in low tones, his voice sounding a little weak to his own ears. He hated that he sounded that way, that another person could make him sound that way.
"What is this all of a sudden?" Shindou asked, tilting his head to the side with a look Akira didn't know how to read. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, and from the stubborn set of Shindou's chin he knew getting answers wasn't going to be easy. He had known that all along, but somewhere in the back of his mind he'd always thought the conversation would happen naturally. "I told you I would tell you someday, when I'm ready."
"It's something I need to know," Akira answered softly. It wasn't much of an answer, but it was all he had to offer. His stomach twisted, the anxious butterflies occupying it for the last month fluttering even more as he schooled his features into a mask of calm. It was easy, even with the tumultuous emotions brewing beneath the surface. He did it every time he had an official match, it was almost second nature.
Silence stretched out between them until Akira thought Shindou was going to simply sit there and stare at him for the rest of the afternoon and evening. When he finally spoke, it was what he had somehow known would be said.
"Touya, I don't know what to tell you. I'm just not ready to talk about it yet."
Akira paused, his eyes raking over Shindou's face; the way he avoided his gaze and stared down at his hands. It made his stomach twist, much the same as it had that night when instead of his own name, he heard the name of an internet go player on the lips of his lover.
"I like to think I'm a patient person," Akira said softly, his voice a little distant in his anxiety. "but it's been so long already. If not now, then when?" Even as the words formed, Akira wished he could take them back. For as long as he wanted to know about Hikaru's connection with sai, about the mysteriousness of his go, about the other person that existed in his game... he wasn't sure if he could handle it now. Not when he knew that Shindou's -- Hikaru's, -- first thought at hearing his name spoken in the dead of night was not of him, but of someone else. Someone who was so like a ghost: there, but not.
"Touya..." Hikaru murmured, drawing his name out in confusion, and suddenly it was too much for Akira to take. Clenching his hands into fists as they rested on his knees, he tucked his chin in to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Say something, anything. Lie to me. I don't care, just stop leaving me hanging like this." He knew he sounded unreasonable, irrational even. But as he tried to calm his thundering heart, he knew also that this confrontation would have come sooner or later. Better to have it out and done with, right?
"What's gotten into you, Touya?" Hikaru asked, his confused voice gaining a note of irritated concern.
And that, Touya thought, took the cake. Of course Shindou wouldn't remember something like that. Something so small; so small and yet so utterly world-shattering as saying someone else's name while they were in bed together. His head swam and his ears rang as vertigo took hold for several seconds. He heard himself laughing softly, then stood abruptly.
"Nothing, forget it. Just forget all of it. I need to go." Without waiting for an answer, he spun on his heel and walked out of the room, his eyes firmly planted on the ground in front of him. He needed to get away, to clear his head, to cleanse himself of the sickening jealousy that had curled its icy fingers around his heart.
Akira felt like a coward, running from the confrontation the way he was, but Go wasn't like real life, and a fight on the board or the path determining the life and death of stones wasn't nearly as difficult to face as the ugliness and irrationality of emotions and relationships. Give me a goban any day, he thought as he walked out into the fading sun of the late afternoon.
"Touya wait!" Shindou called out behind him, and Akira fought the urge to run like a scared rabbit, if only because Shindou could outrun him any day of the week. He didn't slow his pace, however, and he definitely didn't do as he was asked. He could hear Shindou's pounding footsteps approaching, and as much as he wished he could ignore the hurricane that was Shindou Hikaru's presence, he knew he would always be drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
Perhaps much like the moth, to his own destruction.
Shindou grabbed his elbow, tugging him backwards to try and stop him, and Akira made a cursory attempt to jerk his arm away from Shindou's grasp.
"I would prefer to be alone right now, Shindou," Akira stated, his clipped tones icy and unwelcoming. As usual, though, Shindou ignored all unspoken but clear warnings and plowed straight ahead. It was one of the things Akira both loved and hated about him in equal measure.
"What is the matter with you?" Shindou practically yelled, drawing the stares of pedestrians and passersby, and causing color to rise to Akira's cheeks. He jerked his elbow once more, breaking the hold Shindou had over his body.
If only it could be so easy to break the grasp over everything else of his Shindou had a hold on.
That isn't fair, he thought, even as he wished he could go back to the innocent days where the two of them were simply rivals in the game they both loved, and not entangled so messily in feelings extraneous to the game. It isn't his fault I feel like this, not really. He's not an object I can be the sole owner of.
His rationality lost in the wake of his aching heart, though, and he glared tiredly at Shindou. "I would rather not have an audience for this," he said with a longsuffering sigh, without adding that he would rather not be present for it either. He had spent so much emotion in the last several weeks, that he was tired. Emotionally tired, soul tired.
It's funny, he mentally laughed without any humor, how I know how to have a rival in Go; that I thrive on rivalry with my game, but when a rival in love comes along I don't know what to do with myself. Wearily Akira began walking again toward the subway so he could get himself home and begin to lick his wounds, hoping Shindou would finally get the hint. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky. It was just his lot in life to have chased the most singleminded person in Tokyo; he knew firsthand how when Shindou put his mind to something, he would make it happen come hell or high water.
It was infuriatingly endearing, and endlessly frustrating.
"Hey wait, don't go yet!" Shindou demanded, his hand gripping at the fabric of the sweater Akira was wearing. "You need to tell me what happened to bring this on," he continued, seemingly oblivious to everything but his need to pursue answers. "Come on, since you're so worried about causing a scene, come back to my house."
"Shindou," Akira said, leveling a glare at him that would have intimidated anyone but him. He knew it was futile to try and get out of the situation, much as he wanted to. "I am going to be honest with you right now. Your house is the last place I would like to be at the moment."
Akira knew what the reaction was going to be, even before it happened. "What are you saying, there's nothing wrong with my house!"
Holding up a hand to stop the oncoming diatribe about the virtues of the place he lived, Akira resisted the urge to rub his temples as he felt a headache coming on. The exasperation was almost enough to override the sick feeling that had been following him for weeks.
"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it," he clarified testily. "Just that it's the last place I want to be right now." Shindou gave him a baffled look, but Akira refused to clarify any further. He wasn't about to tell him that there were too many conflicting memories associated with that room, now, since it was the first place they had ever had sex. It was definitely not something he needed to be reminded of.
I wonder if sai has seen Shindou's room, his mind asked cruelly. Akira knew it was futile to torture himself this way, that someone having seen his room wasn't necessarily something to be jealous of. Especially since it was obvious sai had, seeing as Shindou had murmured in his sleep to the enigmatic player as if it had been a regular occurrence for him at one point.
He even knew that if Shindou had had sex before, it wasn't necessarily something he had a need -- or a right -- to be jealous over. But the sound of 'I... haven't ever done anything like this before,' rolled through his mind traitorously, making Akira wonder if he was going to question every conversation they'd had, and the veracity of every confession Shindou had made to him.
"Fine," Shindou said sulkily, making Akira roll his eyes at the childishness of his tone. "There's a park around here, right? Shouldn't be too many kids around since it's gonna be dark soon."
Akira thought for a moment, before nodding. A park would be sufficiently public that it was a neutral area for the two of them, and sufficiently private that any scenes that might happen wouldn't be witnessed by the general public. "There's a park a few minutes from here."
The two of them walked in near-silence, a distance between them where before they would be close enough for their hands to brush each other. Whether or not it was purposeful on Shindou's part was something Akira had not been able to figure out, but it had been enjoyable. Now, it was as if an invisible wall had been erected between the two of them, keeping them apart. He was sure to everyone around them it seemed normal, even proper, but to him it was just another show of how distant the two of them had become because of his own insecurities.
The entrance to the park came into view, and Akira's stomach clenched. He could hear the voices of several kids playing, but it was a lot quieter than it would have been during the day. They made their way toward the jungle gym, seeing it deserted in the fading light of the day.
"Let's sit here," Shindou said, pointing to a set of benches on a slope by the play set, before heading in the direction he was pointing. Akira followed him, sitting at the far end of one of the benches and staring straight ahead, unwilling to be the one to bring the subject up again.
Shindou fidgeted next to him, before the silence apparently became too much and he started talking. "Touya, you're being so strange today. I thought you understood that I would definitely tell you but I have to be ready. There's just so much that I have to work out, and it needs some more time. You understand, right?"
Under other circumstance, Akira would have just nodded, and reassured him. But things being what they were, it wasn't good enough for him. He was tired of the jealousy he felt, tired of overthinking everything, tired of losing sleep. Shaking his head, he looked over at Shindou sadly.
"You know, I don't even know if we're dating," Akira said in a conversational tone. "We've never really talked about it. All we really do is play Go. We've only slept together four times."
"Of course we're dating, what else would this--" Shindou started to protest, but Akira cut him off with a look as he finally came to a decision.
"I really think that it would be a good idea for us to break up," he finally murmured, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He had said it, actually spoke it out loud. It was real, and he couldn't take it back. It was both the best and the worst thing he had ever felt.
Akira saw Shindou's eyes widen, and his heart clenched in response. It almost felt unfair of him to do this, but he simply clenched his hands into fists and stood his ground. It was no way to have a relationship, being jealous of someone who hadn't even manifested himself physically in front of him. For all he knew, sai was a person in Shindou's past, never to come into his life again. But then again the opposite could be true. He may not be there at the moment, but who knew what the future would bring.
The second the thought crossed his mind, Akira knew it was foolish. Hikaru wouldn't be with him on a whim, to fill the time until somebody better came along. He wouldn't have chased him -- and caught him, in a manner of speaking -- if he intended on just letting him go like that. But Akira knew he couldn't be with Shindou as long as his thoughts continued to dwell on that night together, and the memory of the murmured name that wasn't his own.
"What are you talking about?!" Shindou yelped, standing with an abrupt, jerky movement and facing Akira with wild eyes. "I don't even know what I did wrong, and you're breaking up with me? Don't I even get a chance to explain myself? Come on, stop thinking fifty moves ahead. This is one place where I can't keep up with you. I can't fix something if I don't know how or why it broke!"
Frustrated, Akira looked down at the ground, studiously avoiding Shindou's upset gaze. He regretted bringing his concerns up in the first place, but he knew prolonging the conversation would only make things worse for both of them. "I will never live up to him," he ground out, squeezing his eyes shut against the negative emotions he felt as he remembered that night they were together. It was almost as vivid in his mind as when it had happened.
"'m sleeping, Sai; we'll play tomorrow."
"Live up to 'him'?" Shindou asked, his voice tilting up in confusion. "Live up to who? What are you talking about, Touya? You're making no sense at all today." He sighed, in exasperation, or annoyance, or frustration, Touya couldn't tell. "I can't read your mind, you have to tell me."
The words made Akira want to laugh cynically. It was a good thing Shindou wasn't a mind reader, since his thoughts were in such a jumble that it would only confuse Shindou more than he already was.
Akira eased his eyes open and leaned back against the bench, tilting his head back to look up at the sky, on fire with the orange and red hues of sunset. He could feel the ends of his hair brushing against the weatherworn wood of the bench. He could feel Shindou's eyes on him, studying him, but he ignored it in favor of watching a bird fly across his line of sight. He wished he could be that bird, free to come and go as he pleased, unencumbered by the social mores and emotional ties that bound him.
His tongue darted out, moistening his lips as he took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the sky above. "sai. I will never live up to sai. I don't know what exactly he is to you, but he's more important to you than I am." Involuntarily, Akira's hands crumpled the fabric of his slacks as he said the name, the handle of the genius Go player who had beaten him. The genius Go player he had once burned to have a rematch with. The genius Go player that he now burned in jealousy of instead.
"What? Sai? What the hell are you talking about, Touya?" Hikaru demanded vehemently, drawing Akira's eyes to him. He was looking at him as if he couldn't believe what Akira had said, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion or consternation. "That isn't the least bit true!"
"Isn't it?" Akira shot back, his voice low and intense. He straightened up, giving Shindou his full attention, the pain his face naked for his rival to see. "Then why won't you tell me about him, or anything?"
"You don't understand what you're saying, Touya. Sai... you just don't understand." Shindou stumbled over his words, and Akira turned his face away when it became clear no explanation would be forthcoming. His hair brushed against his cheek before settling, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he struggled to keep his tumultuous emotions in check.
"You're not making it any easier on me, you realize," he said curtly, in the voice he had before reserved for unwelcome social conversations.
"Whatever you're thinking right now, it's definitely wrong. Please believe me." The note of desperation in Shindou's voice startled Akira, and he glanced back to find him with an expression he had no idea how to read. Shindou was usually an open book when it came to his emotions with very few exceptions, and Akira didn't know what to think. He knew what he was thinking was probably wrong, but without an explanation to clear things up there was nothing keeping him from concocting scenarios of ever-increasing improbability that for all he knew were true.
Whether or not they were true, it wasn't fair to either of them to continue on, Akira knew. Relationships meant to last were founded on trust and communication, and at that moment they had neither. He just wished Shindou would understand that, and let it be.
"I wish I could," he answered honestly. "I do, but... all I know right now is that the last time we were together, in my room," Akira paused, swallowing thickly before continuing on, "that night, I said your given name. For the first time, I said it out loud." He laughed, a short, deprecating staccato. "And when it woke you, the first thing you said wasn't my name. You didn't even think of me. You thought it was sai."
Shindou stared wide-eyed at him, his mouth hanging open as the silence between them grew in the wake of the proclamation. Akira could tell he was trying to process the information, but knew that the time was long past for explanations. If there were any to be had, it would have been offered by then. There was only one thing left for him to do.
Akira stood up, his hands slowly opening to release the fabric of his slacks. The smile he gifted Shindou with didn't feel like much of a smile, it felt like a physical manifestation of his heartbreak, a way to show Shindou how much he was hurting without words. "You are always going to be my rival, my eternal rival," he said in a voice steadier than he felt. "Nothing is going to change that. We are bound together by our games. But right now, I can't be your lover. Please understand." He looked down at his hand, studying the lines etched into the palm, before closing it into a loose fist and gathering his conviction.
He closed his eyes, feeling the setting sun's rays warming his face as he turned westward, toward the park's entrance. His hands were shaking, but he felt a steadfast calm in his decision. It may have been painful, and he knew that in the future their interactions were going to be awkward. But he would face them with a clear head and a calm heart; he would have to. Akira wouldn't run away any more.
"Goodbye, Shindou," he murmured, his eyes opening to witness the sun dipping beneath the level of the cityscape, bathing the park in a chill enhanced by a breeze that whispered through the trees. Silence greeted his proclamation, but he didn't look back to see the expression Shindou was making. He knew it would only make his determination waver. Akira felt for Shindou, but he knew for himself his rival's resilience. He would get over this, may even become stronger because of it. They both would move on.
His shoes shuffled against the dirt, the sound deafening in the pervasive silence that surrounded them. One step, then another, each taking him further from his eternal rival. One breath, then another; one second, then another. He almost thought Shindou would follow him, would demand that this couldn't be it, but as he reached the entrance, and the sounds of everyday life enveloped him, it was with both regret and relief that he found he was alone.
Tomorrow, they would begin anew. Perhaps one day they could go back to being casual acquaintances, even friends. But for now, they would go their own ways.