[Hikaru has seen how Touya's face can flush with exertion, or else lose all its color to bare-knuckled outrage, along with pretty much every gradient in between. He's spent dozens of hours just looking at Touya's face for the sake of looking at it. Still, this blush on Touya's face right now is something Hikaru can't recall seeing before. It's too faint to be compared to windburn on a winter's evening, and it's too dark for it to be anything less than embarrassment. It's another reminder that Hikaru is dealing with an actual human being. In the middle of a game, your opponent can become more of an abstract concept, either Black or White, losing many traits beyond a willingness to defend or attack. Touya, though, has always had the color of texture of stained glass, even when they're struggling through a knock-down, drag-out ko fight. He's beautiful to watch, and to look at, and to take in. Other people think he's so cold, if not mechanical and artificial, but Hikaru has always seen him for the dynamic person he really is. He's blessed with knowing how far down the iceberg goes into otherwise opaque water. Even when he tells himself that Go is the only thing that should matter, he can't help but think of Touya's real laughter, on his birthday, their heads aligned together.

Although Hikaru's knees despise any movement, he grits his teeth and pushes himself forward, scooting closer to Touya. Closer, then closer still, until he can finally reach over and place one of his hands on top of one of Touya's, and now they're both atop the yellow binder. He wishes he knew the magic words that would make Touya loosen up and relax like an unspooling thread. In any moment, in every moment, it seems like Touya is expecting the worst possible thing to happen, and Hikaru is largely responsible for that.]

You're too young to have permanently high blood pressure, Touya.

[The first time they were scheduled to play each other, which Touya had to forfeit on, due to his father's health scare... That administrator came up to him and led him out of the playing room, and Hikaru had about twenty seconds where he thought he was about to hear something he wouldn't be able to live with. He could feel his heartbeat ringing in his ears, and his head was full of deep-space static, and his mouth felt like it'd peel away, that's how dry it was. If anything bad happened to Touya, if anything bad were to happen to Touya... how could I possibly survive that? And that's how he felt before he lost Sai, and before he understood what real loss could feel like.

But he can't just come out and said he's afraid Touya will have a four-alarm heart attack before he turns thirty. God. God, this fucking idiot.]

Tomorrow...

[He doesn't want to crease the fresh lines, the fresh numbers, either, so he's very careful when he tugs the kifu out of Touya's hand. He sets it down beside the binder, and now there's nothing in between them anymore. He expects Touya's full attention from now on.]

Tomorrow, [he says, no less soft and serious,] I'll text you as soon as I wake up. Every day, I'll text you when I wake up, or just around that time, so you can know I haven't gone anywhere. Even if I don't feel like going out, you'll know it doesn't mean I'm trying to leave you. And that way... you won't have as much junk to worry about, hopefully. [And maybe having a routine would be good for him on a personal level. His smile is sudden and very soft at the edges, and his eyes are still evergreen.] Does that sound good to you? [he asks, his head tilting in closer, his thumb stroking over Touya's.]