[An easy victory? Huh? What? There's no such thing as an easy victory, no matter the alcoholic content, not when it comes to Akira--Touya, he thinks, then, correcting himself like he failed to before. Touya is Touya; Touya is so good, so perfect, so fucking beautiful; they'll probably never be close enough to call each other by their given names. Just when he thinks he's getting close enough, Touya always moves on ahead of him, at double the speed, as quick as any rabbit in front of a racing greyhound. When Hikaru was a stupid, snotty kid, more painfully ignorant than he is now, he swore to himself he'd catch up to and surpass Touya in order to prove his worth. Right now, he can admit the chase could go on forever and he wouldn't be unhappy with that. Touya's never so far ahead that it would be impossible to catch him by the sleeve.
It's right around now that Hikaru identifies his peaceful, magnanimous feelings as a gift given to him, because Touya is pushing his fingers through his hair, again and again. Belatedly, Hikaru makes a weakened noise of pleasure, then a lower one that's glottal, nearly drifting off to sleep right then and there. Something about the way Touya's doing this to him is like he's been wanting to do this longer than he'd ever admit. Maybe that's a weird thing to think, but that's pretty much what it feels like to Hikaru. He has his own insight into how Touya thinks of things--if Touya knows him best, then Hikaru knows him right back--so he can tell what he's thinking by how he's moving his fingers. That reminds Hikaru of something all over again--something funny--but he doesn't grasp the memory any firmer than before.]
Mmm... s'fine if I lose, though, or if I win, as long as you're the one playing me. [The stressed-out, career-oriented part of his brain very much doesn't want to lose, but that isn't what's speaking to Touya. He's mercury dripping through long fingers, born of the earth, primordial, all purest love for Go and the reason he's even still playing this game after losing almost everything. The simple act of placing the stones is satisfying on a deep, deep level, win or lose, in victory or defeat. Especially when he's responding to moves from his rival (his beautiful, intelligent, courageous, impressive, infinitely more deserving rival). What he's feeling now just gets buried under the day-to-day agonies of qualifiers, or the next Oteai, or whatever, whatever the hell. He spends too much time worrying about whether or not Touya likes his Go, whether or not Touya thinks his Go is essential, when they could be playing each other.] But I'm not getting up either, [he declares, his whole body unfurling like flower petals left in the sun. The last person to stroke his hair, with more of a motherly intention, was Sai himself.] So you've gotta go and get your own orange to peel from the kitchen. But, I do have... right here, right, somewhere...
[He wriggles around sloppily, no better than a fish on dry land, until he can reach behind himself and dig into the back pocket of his jeans. From there, he pulls out a small traveling Go board that's folded in half, its magnetic pieces safely tucked within. He has no idea if he can manage the coordination to move such tiny pieces, but he tosses the board onto the coffee table anyway.] Let's play, [he says, whining again, even though he has no idea if he can sit up properly, either. His spine is doing an incredible impression of a cooked strand of spaghetti and now he wishes he had some ramen to eat up.
For the third time, he remembers what was so damn funny, so drop-dead hilarious, and this time he doesn't forget the gist of it within a few seconds. He giggles helplessly, covering his reddened face, too humid by half.]
Oh my god, there's... Touya, you just made me think of some... some something I did... it's so stupid, but it's great, and it's too stupid to tell you, though...
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It's right around now that Hikaru identifies his peaceful, magnanimous feelings as a gift given to him, because Touya is pushing his fingers through his hair, again and again. Belatedly, Hikaru makes a weakened noise of pleasure, then a lower one that's glottal, nearly drifting off to sleep right then and there. Something about the way Touya's doing this to him is like he's been wanting to do this longer than he'd ever admit. Maybe that's a weird thing to think, but that's pretty much what it feels like to Hikaru. He has his own insight into how Touya thinks of things--if Touya knows him best, then Hikaru knows him right back--so he can tell what he's thinking by how he's moving his fingers. That reminds Hikaru of something all over again--something funny--but he doesn't grasp the memory any firmer than before.]
Mmm... s'fine if I lose, though, or if I win, as long as you're the one playing me. [The stressed-out, career-oriented part of his brain very much doesn't want to lose, but that isn't what's speaking to Touya. He's mercury dripping through long fingers, born of the earth, primordial, all purest love for Go and the reason he's even still playing this game after losing almost everything. The simple act of placing the stones is satisfying on a deep, deep level, win or lose, in victory or defeat. Especially when he's responding to moves from his rival (his beautiful, intelligent, courageous, impressive, infinitely more deserving rival). What he's feeling now just gets buried under the day-to-day agonies of qualifiers, or the next Oteai, or whatever, whatever the hell. He spends too much time worrying about whether or not Touya likes his Go, whether or not Touya thinks his Go is essential, when they could be playing each other.] But I'm not getting up either, [he declares, his whole body unfurling like flower petals left in the sun. The last person to stroke his hair, with more of a motherly intention, was Sai himself.] So you've gotta go and get your own orange to peel from the kitchen. But, I do have... right here, right, somewhere...
[He wriggles around sloppily, no better than a fish on dry land, until he can reach behind himself and dig into the back pocket of his jeans. From there, he pulls out a small traveling Go board that's folded in half, its magnetic pieces safely tucked within. He has no idea if he can manage the coordination to move such tiny pieces, but he tosses the board onto the coffee table anyway.] Let's play, [he says, whining again, even though he has no idea if he can sit up properly, either. His spine is doing an incredible impression of a cooked strand of spaghetti and now he wishes he had some ramen to eat up.
For the third time, he remembers what was so damn funny, so drop-dead hilarious, and this time he doesn't forget the gist of it within a few seconds. He giggles helplessly, covering his reddened face, too humid by half.]
Oh my god, there's... Touya, you just made me think of some... some something I did... it's so stupid, but it's great, and it's too stupid to tell you, though...