when is the right time for anything? who knows? living is an art, not a science.

[protential]

[Usually, washing a bunch of Go stones is one of the most soothing, heart-settling things Hikaru can do. It's very slow, repetitive, and gentle all around, because he's trying hard not to chip the edges or anything. The water is set to a tepid warmth, too, like a stretch of bathwater he could fall asleep in. And the mild detergent he's using is just that: mild, inoffensive, generally pleasant to the senses. Usually, Hikaru can enter a sort of trance when he's doing this sort of thing, transferring the stones from bowls to the water to the line of drying containers. Washing away a week's worth of oil and germs from the salon patrons isn't as gross as it sounds. It's relaxing. Or, it's supposed to be relaxing. It's why he volunteered to do this over the weekend, and it's even better to have Touya here with him, helping him out. He really needs the chance to relax after being told he has to go through the team qualifiers all over again. He's still pretty pissed off about that, about his official record not speaking for itself, but that's less of an issue than, uh...

Touya has been in such a good mood all week. Literally, all week. It's making Hikaru kind of jealous, honestly, at this point. Touya has no idea that the wheels of fate have been set in motion, that certain deadlines loom large over everything--he has no fucking idea. Earlier, he was smiling when he mentioned offhandedly--obliviously, more like--that his parents were leaving the country again rather soon, so Hikaru would be able to come over and stay with him again. He went on to say, still smiling, that his father said to remind Hikaru that he agreed to play him again before they had to leave. And Hikaru almost protested--he didn't agree to anything--before realizing what that actually meant. The next game is the end of the line, bright red and uncompromising. Touya's dad is expecting to hear some results, sooner rather than later; he wants these loose ends tied up before he jets off to wherever the hell. God damn it, Hikaru thinks, why can't anyone see the amount of stress he's under right now? Why can't this wait until after the Hokuto Cup is over?! The qualifiers, at the very least...

Hikaru bites his bottom lip and glances over Touya, whose elbow just nudged against his own--then he looks back down into the soapy, soupy mixture he has his hands sunk into. As far as utility closets go, this one is much more spacious than not, so they don't need to be standing as close together as they are right now. In the last week, he's really noticed how much Touya tends to gravitate toward him, no matter what's going on. He doesn't mind it. He likes it, even. And he'd be content to let orbital gravity proceed at its own pace, if not for this intractable deadline.]

Hey, Touya...

[There's something we have to talk about. He rehearsed it several times this morning, trying to find the right balance between speed, pitch, cadence, and so on. He doesn't want to freak Touya out before he gets to the point, so...

...

...

..............]

So, I was thinking, that, uh...

[ffffuuuuuck]

Comments

[ashlar]

[It just feels nice. With Akira's hands breaching comfortable water, finding smooth stones, sifting through them with his fingers—the polishing motions of his thumbs—the shifting of his own clothing, and the shifting of Shindou's, too—one brush, another brush, contact more than incidental and wonderfully allowed to be. The light in the utility closet is a clinical glare, and it buzzes from above, but Akira has still found soft air in here. There's the tickle of soap suds at Akira's wrists, up toward his forearms, and the tickle of his hair against his chin while he tilts his head forward to focus on his task. There's the tickle in the back of his throat for something eager, like he's waiting for a certain moment to arrive, and there's also the tickle somewhere around his sternum when he thinks about his father, and about Shindou, and about his father respecting Shindou enough to request his presence across a goban. It just feels nice. Nearness, sharing air inside this room, and his father's acknowledgement of Shindou's potential. This is well in ways Akira had not even known he'd wanted.

The sway in Shindou's voice is, for now, taken as no more than what aligns with the rippling water they share. The next stone Akira takes is one from beneath Shindou's hand. He says,] Mmhmm? [It's mild, like the detergent, maybe uncommonly so... the melt of his voice is a bit beyond tepid, even if it flows around like this water. But Shindou's voice comes back more haltingly, and Akira looks up from the familiar, soft clinking of stones meeting stones.]

What is it?

[He doesn't ask like even wondering is giving him a headache. No pulse rushing hard in his ears, it seems, if the softness from his throat is any gentle indication. In fact, he dips his head to the side, lips in a lovely, quiet curve, left full, no pinch to them, and he bumps his shoulder against Shindou's, playful about it.] What's up? Shindou, if you're going to be ridiculous, just do it. I'm used to that much.

[That's fondness. It has to be. Akira sounds like he's grateful to be used to that. Like he's comforted by it. He palms some more stones, but simply shifts them from hand to hand, beneath the water, while he keeps that smile aimed at Shindou. Shindou, with him, near him, toward him, coming back to him time and time again. No hiding, and no holing up away from outreach. They've met at the salon most days this past week. A few times, they've gone elsewhere afterward. Akira visited Shindou's house again, on one of those days. On another, they actually met up beforehand, and came to the salon together. That was the day Ichikawa-san couldn't stop sighing great sighs that seemed laden with some sort of sympathy. Maybe something had happened with a friend, or a TV drama she kept up with, or... he hadn't stayed to ask. He and Shindou went to buy soft pretzels, because Akira had wanted to visit a shop that had recently opened.

Come to think of it, a cafe Akira likes is supposed to be bringing out some new blends of coffee. He wonders which one he should tell Shindou to try with him, and the thought makes him press his lips together, still smiling, for how he looks forward to it.]