Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction ❯ Concerning him ❯ Concerning him ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

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Concerning him
by Stray
13. 10. 2003
rating: R

Disclaimers: not mine, only fussing around.
Warnings: bad English, angst, heavy OOCness, yaoi hints, pairing: HxA, IxW

Note: I found some errors, so this is a corrected version
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It was a Sunday evening he rang on my door.

I was having one of those "parties" at that time with Waya, Isumi and some girls they brought to my apartment for that night. I cannot remember their names nor their faces anymore, but then again I hardly can remember any of the chicks ever attended those "parties". I only know that they were wearing those adhesive miniskirts and tight tops I always found ridiculous to wear in the cold autumn weather though they surely thought that they look enticing and perhaps even tantalizing in them. They were for one night only. Didn’t last and didn’t even want more. On these "parties" at some time two of them after getting _slightly_ illuminated would leave alongside my two friends and one would stay with me to warm my bed till the next morning.

This time though it wasn’t bound to happen that way. Because of _his_ arrival.

I wasn’t expecting to see him when I opened the door; thinking of who could it be at that time and light-heartedly swearing under the influence of alcohol contained by various beverages mutually consumed earlier that night. However in the very moment I saw him all the lightness and cheerful mood caused by said alcohol evaporated from my mind.

It weren’t the bruises on his face nor the torn and disheveled condition of his clothes that caused my sudden sobering. It were his eyes; that vulnerable and already wounded look in them that I have seen a few times only but I haven’t had pretty memories from those occasions. No in fact they were really bad times for him - and for me because of him.

I urged him hurriedly in and led him into the bath directing him to keep the door closed till I get rid of the people currently enjoying themselves in my living room. I couldn’t let him be seen like that, not even by my two closest friends though it didn’t occur to him to feel shame about his condition yet but I knew it occurred him later on and he would be annoyed if I allowed it to happen.

So I quickly arranged us to be left alone effectively ignoring the questioning looks from my friends and the obtuse chattering of the females. Of course they heard the ringing and wanted to know who is the person I let in and want to be privately with. But they understood my intention not to sate their curiosity at that time.

After five long minutes of impatient negotiating from my side and stupid joking on theirs I achieved at least to shut the door behind the noisy bunch, and leaning my back against it I waited for them to leave the floor and be certain myself that they wouldn’t come back.

Then I closed the distance between my front door and the bath in two large leaps and lifted my hand intended to knock.

"Shindo?" I heard my shakily uttered name from the inside and it caused me to abandon all my politeness and open the door without answering. He sat on the floor not even bothering its coldness; arms clasping his raised knees in tight embrace and his entire body rocking back and forth trying to comfort himself and failing miserably.

It was then that I couldn’t bear his sight anymore and had to pull him up from the ground to hold him close. His arms clutched on my ribcage so hard that I almost cried out in pain but I managed to stay still, emanating only a silent gasp of surprise. Seconds later I got accustomed to it and it didn’t hurt anymore physically. But my pain came from seeing him like that and knowing I cannot make his wounds go away only render them a little less painful. Likewise my anguish they weren’t of physical origin either. The bruises and lacerations on his flesh would go away after some time and come back by his own deeds again after a time.

"So, you did it again..." I whispered in his ear stroking the usually silky now damp, stuck-together strains on his head that lay on my shoulder. It wasn’t a question but a statement. He wasn’t even starting to deny the fact I knew happened earlier this evening. It was obvious since he reeked of a strong male odor alien of his own faint scent, and clearly the mixture of that of several men - mingled in the smell of alcohol and the unmistakable stain of muddy little alleys just in the back of highly illuminated busy main streets with countless clubs, discos and movie theatres.

He is taller than me, only five centimeters but that difference made my comforting him slightly awkward as he leaned on me. He didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to do so. It wasn’t my function in his eyes to listen to his "adventures" recited on a trembling voice and then scold him because of things he did know anyway were bad for him; but to be there in silent understanding.

I couldn’t bear that ugly stank on him anymore so I reached out to start the bath and let him gently slide down to a sitting position onto the rim of the tub. As we listened to the soothing gush of the water filling it I divested him quickly of the ragged clothes he wore (that, I bet, weren’t ragged a few hours before). His body was like marble from cold and I wasn’t surprised to find bruises everywhere already beginning to turn blue, and blood - on his underpants mainly. So _they_ were not the tender kind of guys again. I couldn’t suppress a disapproving growl and he threw a started glimpse on me then guided his eyes to the garment I was busy with to strip him out form. I saw his cheeks redden in humiliation he yet only started to feel; and heard a soft, low-pitched cry emanating from his throat. But he remained silent further on.

The water was ready, so I let him slide in the tub. His body was slim and had virtually no weight on that night. Narrow shoulders, no visible muscles on his arms and legs, slender waist that continued in an equally tenuous hip and slightly rounded bottom. His belly was flat, almost hollow; I think he didn’t eat much in the past few days. Fine, rare hair was growing underneath, beginning at his belly button, sliding down in a straight line to his groin. His features were those of a girl - so unlike his strong, commanding appearance beside the Go table. Not many people knew his current face that he showed only me - and those bastards responsible for him being in this state.

Why...? I asked him that many times in the past mainly on occasions like this one, but his answer didn’t satisfy me. Why did he have to go and let himself be screwed by unknown, dirty, uncaring people? He didn’t know. He didn’t even want that when he was in his normal state of mind. He knew, once it were discovered, it could cost his reputation, his carrier as a professional go player - holder of several titles, the respect of the society and his parents, and all the little things one holds certain in his life. But at times he felt lonely and abandoned from all people he didn’t think about those things, he only got up and went out into the night not really expecting anything, only to satisfy the longing in him for some kind of company and usually ended up at the worst of it. It was like an alternate form of drug addiction, he knew its bad after-effects but he went on despite this knowledge and ruined himself like this every bloody time.

Why he couldn’t have a normal relationship with a normal guy who respected him and cared for him, may even loved him, I don’t know. No it isn’t true. I knew of his fear of his homosexuality being exposed that he thought was a dirty and unworthy aspect of the noble go player that he was carving for to become. His family pride and the narrow-mindedness of his father didn’t help the situation either. So he couldn’t be like Waya and Isumi who were openly living together though for the public they were housemates - two young men who liked the rushing lifestyle of the bachelors driving sport of women, parties and stuff. I let myself drag into it by attending those parties they held once in a month - frequently enough to fool publicity. They didn’t even mind sleeping occasionally with those women. And no one caught a word of how actually things were going.

But not with Touya. It wasn’t his style and maybe he really couldn’t change even if he tried. No, he couldn’t even think of trying and I knew it was partly my fault. He couldn’t just go out and find a guy for a serious relationship, because once he was rejected by someone he really loved - and most likely, does so to this very day. He said, he could try to find a substitute, but knowing him, and the intensity of his feelings, I think, it wouldn’t last long. Maybe it would help him to forget that particular one if he weren’t to see him and talk to him every second day. And that’s the point where my conscience kicks in...

Because I was the one who rejected him.

I don’t know if I ever could leave him on his own, leave Go and our friendship that lasted more than ten years up to this day. He is my friend and I need him to be there as my rival. It’s egoistic and I cannot excuse myself by saying that he needs me on equal terms just about the same, and who would be the one he could turn to when he gets ravaged again?

Then why have I rejected him? Because I am not gay? I don’t have anyone either, I sleep with girls now and then brought to my apartment by Waya and Isumi, but without the parties I don’t think I would bother to search for that kind of distraction. They are good only to one thing and it isn’t something I couldn’t live without. Of course I have female friends, mainly women who are connected to Go, and of course Akari, my childhood friend. We meet once or twice in a month, usually by accident, and then chat a while about ridiculous, impersonal things on my side, and about her family, husband and daughter on hers. We speak neither of Go nor her job. But she asks a lot of our old, mutual friends. And she suspects some things about Touya and me. Usually if it comes up, always accidentally, she switches to demure whispering and tries to divert from the topic.

I observed him as he leaned back and ducked a little more into the hot water, not bothering to clean up himself. His eyes were closed and his cheeks began to gather some color from the hot water. I sighed and went about to do the washing for him. With a soft sponge I scrubbed all the dirt and the bad smelling body fluids of his pale skin not really troubled by the sounds of pain when I rubbed a little harder at some places. Hell, he was the one doing this to his own body; he should learn to bear the consequences! When I was about to wash his butt, he took the sponge out of my hands and started to clean his most aching part of body with a mixture of pain and shame written on his face. It didn’t escape my attention that the water went a hue of pink betraying the evidence of more blood flowing from a certain location. I gauged if he would need professional medical treatment but I knew he didn’t want other people to witness his shame by seeing him like this, not even a doctor who was bound to secrecy by his profession. I calmed down myself as I saw that the water wouldn’t get any redder, so the bleeding must have been stopped already.

He finished and stood up nearly slipping but I grabbed his arm and held him steady. He muttered a weak 'Thanks' and leaped out of the bathtub on the carpet. I began to dry his body with a fluffy towel - one that my mom bought me last Christmas - and then wiggled him in it. I opened the door to guide him into the bedroom but he was weak, nearly collapsed only after taking a few steps. So I lifted him into my arms - light as he was - and then after pacing into said room put him down on the one and only bed. He knew what was bound to come; I quickly dressed him up in a pair of fresh pajamas and pulled the blanket over him.

"Don’t leave me!" he tried to protest weakly. I turned and observed his pleading face a while. "I only want to take a shower. Won’t last long, promise." I said and did so.

I came back after ten minutes dressed in some boxers because I couldn’t find any more clean pajamas. I saw he wasn’t asleep yet, despite his weakness, he was waiting for me to return. I was almost moved by his effort and tried to smile at him reassuringly, regardless of what I really felt at his sight. I couldn’t let him think I would despise him because of what happened. He only would break more. I had already broken him enough.

I slid under the blanket next to him and tried to settle myself for the night comfortably. I only had one bed but it was big enough for the two of us to sleep in. At the first occurrence he had been protesting, "If I wasn’t like _that_..." but now it was the umpteenth time and the previous schedule turned somehow into a sad routine. When I finished moving he felt his time came and awkwardly carefully lifted his body part by part and slowly, as if ashamed of it, snuggled himself to my side. As I felt my patience come to an end I reached under his middle and pulled him close letting my arm slowly slide down to his hip. He nested his head into the hollow of my shoulder, lifted his knees up - one on top of my legs, one next to it, bending backwards - to compensate our height-difference that came out more enhanced by this position. His foot felt cold despite that he just came out of hot water, but I knew it would warm up in no time, just like his icy fingers laid on my bare chest, slightly stroking my skin. I pretended not to notice that.

I let out a sigh and felt his neck bending a bit upwards to look at me questioning what that was for; but he couldn’t see my face in that darkness anyway. So I turned my head down a little coming up to him so our temples touched. I had come upon a decision. I tightened my grip with my arm that held him, pressed his body closer to myself and said:

"Akira..." I never ever have called him on his given name before. I held my breath but he didn’t protest like I expected him to do, so I continued my speech. "... Please, don’t do that ever again! I don’t like to see you ruin yourself that way... If you are in need of something, come to me! I will do whatever you want; will be whatever you want! I only ask you this one thing in return."

He stayed silent and placed his head back to his previous position. I didn’t even hear his breathing; he must have held it back. Then he spoke, and to my astonishment, his voice was not a weak, shaking, but the strong, authoritative one he always spoke on when under people. I couldn’t erase his picture coming up in my mind that was belonging to that firm voice, his expression when he played go in earnest: fiery eyes, thin line of a mouth... surely he had to look like that at that moment.

"You find me that pitiful?" he asked. What he said was true, but I was eager to deny it, because I knew he didn’t like it. However, I didn’t have the opportunity to do so. "I do not want your pity!" he spat. I felt the anger coming up in my throat. "Then do not commit things to deserve it!" I wasn’t exactly shouting, more like whispering in a hard tone.

That hit. I felt something warm and wet on my skin where his lashes touched my throat and couldn’t hold my hand back from touching that wetness on his face. He shuddered back from my touch then leaned his cheek into my palm. "You say it, and I will do anything!" I offered renewed. I stroke him gently up and down as I concentrated on the words I knew he would say next.

"Then can you love me?" he asked in a different voice. I sort of expected him to say that. And I knew my answer would be a ’Yes’. It wouldn’t be the first time I slept with a guy, not even the first time with this particular guy... However he continued his speech before I could agree. "I mean not with your body. That isn’t the only thing I want. I mean with your heart, your mind, your soul!"

I froze in that moment. The answer, a determined ’Yes’, was already on my tongue. But I just couldn’t say it. I couldn’t lie bluntly. Not to him. And if I considered his question in earnest, even then I couldn’t know if I would be able to fulfill his wish.

It seemed he wasn’t really expecting me to answer. He found his answer in the silence. After a while he placed his head back to the hollow of my shoulder and ten minutes later I heard his even breathing. I don’t know how long I stayed awake that night, thinking about it, him, us...

I only know about how I placed my hand previously stroking his face on his fist clasped tightly; and unbound his fingers with mines.

-the end- -or maybe not-
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