Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction ❯ The Extent of Denial ❯ Way Too Many Drinks! ( Chapter 3 )

“Man, Hikaru, what's up with you?” Waya was eyeing him warily.

 

He finished the last of his rum and coke before answering. “What do you mean, what's up with me? Nothing is up with me. Life sucks, Waya.”

 

“That. You, Shindou Hikaru, are usually bouncing off of the walls and generally high on life, sickening the rest of us that are actually normal people. To see you like this is just disturbing!”

 

“That's why I called you. At least Isumi is always around to cheer you up, but I don't have anyone but you, Waya.”

 

“Aw, thanks,” the other boy muttered, giving him a dark look.

 

“You know what I mean!” Hikaru snapped.

 

“Well, we are at a bar. Make more friends.”

 

Hikaru gave a disparaging glance around the dark, dingy room, not the least bit impressed with its patrons. “I don't want those kinds of friends!”

 

Waya sat there quietly, just watching him.

 

Hikaru slipped the palm pilot out of his pocket, holding it carefully as he examined it. It was sleek, slim and shiny, rather like its owner. There were no identifying tags or stickers on it to say that it belonged to Touya.

 

What else was on the hard drive aside from those games? He began investigating random files, finding one with his phone number - suddenly Waya's hand entered his field of vision, reaching for the palm pilot.

 

“Hey!!” Hikaru exclaimed, hiding it against his chest and curling up slightly.

 

“I just wanted to see what you were doing! Is that yours?”

 

“No.”

 

“Whose is it, then, and why do you have it?” Waya was giving him the `what have you done this time??' look.

 

“I can't say, but I need more alcohol. This is not working, Waya. You are failing me!”

 

 

2 hours later:

 

“Noooo!” Hikaru howled, pulling against Waya.

 

“C,mon, `Karu, you need decoration! Besides, we're in the springtime of our youth! Now is the time for such things!” Waya was pulling on Hikaru's arm and reeling. Together, they managed to stagger into the tattoo shop.

 

“You suck, Waya! SUCK!” Hikaru whined, stumbling against the counter.

 

“You're bitchin' and depressed out your head. I don't know what to do with this Hikaru. C'mon, suck it up.”

 

Hikaru sighed as someone came out of the back, glancing back and forth between them. “Fine, I'll do it. This `s stupid.”

 

“So are you. Go for it.”

 

The tattoo artist put his hands on his hips. “So, which of you will it be? Or are you both getting tattoos?”

 

“Both,” Waya assured the man.

 

“I'll take your friend back, and someone else will be out in a minute for you.”

 

Hikaru followed the man to the back, focusing on not tripping, stumbling or crashing into anything.

 

“What do you want for your tattoo?”

 

He was staring at the floor, not really hearing the artist. “Stupid Akira…” he muttered. “Touya…Akira. He can…can kiss my ass.”

 

“What's that? `Akira'? So where should it go?”

 

“Yes, Akira…bastard!” he exclaimed. Hikaru lapsed into unintelligible muttering once more. “…dunno what his problem is…pain in the ass!”

 

The tattoo artist shrugged, shaking his head. “Yeah, probably. But okay, buddy, it's your body.”

 

“He is…” Hikaru agreed, thinking the tattoo artist was in agreement with his opinion of Akira.

 

“You're going to have to take off your clothes, though.”

 

“Suuuure….clothes…” Hikaru struggled out of his jeans, almost falling over and killing himself.

 

The tattoo artist sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “This is going to be a long night. God help me. I never pegged you for getting something like that. I must be losing my touch.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hikaru groaned into his pillow, feeling bad. Very bad. Nauseous, with a pounding, raging headache. “The hell?” he mumbled, trying to sit up.

 

He winced and cursed at the immediate and throbbing pain in the vicinity of his bum. “What did--?? Waya!” He had only the vaguest of memories of anything after the bar.

 

Hikaru rolled over and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand, flipping it open and calling Waya. He waited patiently, holding it slightly away from his ear, but not so far that he couldn't hear it when his friend picked up.

 

“What?!” snarled a familiar voice from the other end.

 

“Geez, Waya, and you say I'm bitchy! I want to ask you something.”

 

“It's fuckin'…11:00 A.M., Hikaru! We didn't come back `til late…mrph…” Waya trailed off, sounding as if he were going back to sleep.

 

“What…what happened after the bar? I really don't remember.” Hikaru hated the tentative and cautious tone he felt compelled to use when Waya was like this.

 

“We got tats…don't you remember?”

 

“'Tats'?”

 

“Tattoos!! Damn, Hikaru…”

 

“Tattoos?? I got a tattoo??”

 

Waya sighed explosively. “Yes! At least, I hope you did, since you were back there so long with that guy. When you came out, your shirt was on backwards. I don't want to know what that means.”

 

“What did I get?” Hikaru asked softly, afraid of the answer.

 

“How the hell should I know! You didn't tell me!”

 

“What did you get?”

 

“I'm not telling! That's personal.”

 

Hikaru laughed, kicking his feet into the bed. “Are you serious? It has to be worth seeing!”

 

“Whatever!” Waya growled. “Call me later at some reasonable time, you little punk bitch!”

 

Hikaru heard a click and pulled his cell away, looking at the screen in disbelief. Waya really had hung up on him. He didn't envy Isumi his position as Waya's best friend.

 

Best friend. He and Touya were supposed to be best friends, but they weren't even on a first name basis. Hikaru let his hand fall, staring dispiritedly at the cell phone where it lay beside him on the bed.

 

He wanted to see Touya. He wanted to understand what was happening, what was in the other pro's mind. Even though Touya had been the one in the wrong, he wasn't sure he cared whether or not he received an apology anymore, so long as Touya was still his friend.

 

Well, there was nothing to be done about that at the moment, so he might as well go look at his tattoo.

 

He forced himself to get up and go to the bathroom, pulling out one of his mother's make-up mirrors from under his sink. (Hey, how was a boy supposed to see himself properly otherwise?)

 

Carefully peeling his jeans and underwear down and cursing vividly, he revealed a huge gauze patch on his right buttock. Feeling his eyes widen, he also pulled away the gauze, holding the mirror steady.

 

Hikaru stared mutely at the tattoo revealed on his backside, mouth hanging open for long moments. Then, “Oh, fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?!” He leaned against the sink, closing his eyes. “Thank god it's somewhere no one will ever see it…well, at least not any time soon.”

 

He finished peeling off his clothing and got into the shower, wincing and hissing as the warm water washed over his tattoo. Belatedly, he realized that he needed to check on Touya's palm pilot and make certain that it was still in one piece after last night, especially since he almost wasn't!

 

“Waya, you little bastard!” Hikaru muttered. Weren't friends supposed to look out for each other? Waya had failed him, allowing him to get a tattoo like that!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Akira laid his pen down, glancing at the clock. It was just past 4:00 on a Friday afternoon, and he was copying kifu out of one of his father's more advanced books.

 

He'd played a match yesterday with one of his father's friends, but it just hadn't been enough to capture his interest. He'd kept waiting for one of those insane and nonsensical moves that Shindou would have made, but naturally the man had never made one. Only Shindou played like that, determined green eyes shining and intense.

 

Shindou. He hadn't seen him for a week, mostly due to his own avoidance of the other boy. It wasn't that Shindou had done anything wrong. He just didn't feel able to face him after what he'd said, after having made the other pro cry like that.

 

But in truly typical Shindou-fashion, the bleach-banged boy had stolen his palm pilot, which would force a confrontation sooner or later. There were personal things on there that he'd rather the other boy not see, especially as some of them concerned him, and he had no doubt that Shindou would start looking soon.

 

The one thing that had no apparent reason or motive was that his coffee cup had been empty when he'd returned to his table. He couldn't imagine Shindou doing something as bizarre as drinking his coffee, but what stranger would do such a thing? It disturbed him. What was the purpose? What would the point be in doing such a thing?

 

Akira glanced out of his open window, watching the breeze stir the curtains with slightly unfocused eyes. Perhaps he should call Shindou and apologize again so that he wouldn't have to avoid him anymore. It would be the correct thing to do. And then…perhaps he could spend a little time with the other boy, even if it was on one of those horrible outings.

 

He picked up the phone from its cradle on his desk and slowly dialed Shindou's cell number, which he had taken pains to memorize. Tensely, Akira waited, uncertain of what his reception would be. He was aware that his avoidance had likely made things worse. A click made him flinch, aware that Shindou had answered, but the line was silent for a long moment.

 

“….Touya…” a quiet, flat voice finally said.

 

Akira swallowed, his anxiety ratcheting up ten notches. “Ah…S-shindou…”

 

Silence.

 

“I…I wanted to say…”

 

“You mean there was something that you didn't say that night?” Shindou growled.

 

Akira winced, clenching the phone in both of his cold hands. He had to do this. “I apologize again, Shindou. I am aware that I said some very unkind and inappropriate things to you.”

 

Another long pause, then, “That doesn't tell me anything about whether or not you meant those things that you said, Touya. Your apology doesn't mean anything if you truly feel those things.”

 

Akira bit his lip, feeling trapped. How was he to rectify this? What path would be successful in restoring things to normal? He had never seen this side of Shindou before. He would attempt to explain himself. “I was raised in a rather…motivated household, Shindou. By the standards of said household, those things would be accurate, but…you were raised differently, and…that's fine. People are supposed to be different, aren't they?”

 

Shindou sighed loudly. “Then why did you say what you did?”

 

“Because…I was angry that you were attacking my father. That you seemed to be disapproving of my way of life.”

 

“Well, I'm not. I was just worried about you. That's a lot of pressure. But I won't make that mistake again, ok? I won't involve myself anymore, I'll just stand back and let Touya Akira do his own thing. I won't offer my stupid opinions.”

 

“Shindou! Don't be like that. I apologize for hurting your feelings. I was insensitive and hurtful. I'm not skilled at friendship, or interacting with other people. You have made that painfully clear to me over the years that we've known each other. It's so effortless for you. Sometimes I wish that I could be more like that.”

 

Akira forced himself to release his death grip on the phone, using one hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. He had closed his eyes in order to focus even more on Shindou's voice.

 

“Who said you hurt my feelings?” Shindou muttered.

 

Akira knew that it would not be wise to pursue such a statement. “Well, I just meant that if I did…I wanted to apologize. I was wrong. Stay just the way you are, Shindou. I like you…the way you are.”

 

There was a faint noise from the other end. “Th-thank you…Touya…” Shindou's voice was soft and almost choked-sounding.

 

If he didn't know better, he'd say that Shindou Hikaru had been moved to tears, but…he was probably just misinterpreting things again.

 

“Of course…Shindou.”

 

“Touya, do you want to - to go somewhere tonight? Waya and Isumi will be going, too.”

 

Akira frowned, stifling a sigh. This could be his penance, he supposed. “I will consent to going somewhere with you. What time will you be by?”

 

“Great! How's 8:00 P.M. sound?” Shindou sounded as if he'd resumed normal Shindou operation - chirpy and energetic.

 

Akira smiled slightly, greatly relieved. His tactic had been successful. He and Shindou were friends again. The torment of this evening was worth that. “That's rather late, but I suppose that's fine.”

 

“I'll bet you go to bed way early, don't you, Touya!?” Shindou sounded very amused.

 

“Hmph, of course. My father likes to rise early and have the family break their fast together, but I'm certain that there won't be a problem with my missing it every once in a while.”

 

“'Break their fast'?? Who says that?” Shindou burst into laughter.

 

Akira pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning. “Shindou, stop taunting me over my proper way of speaking! I cannot help that I am civilized, unlike you!”

 

This only earned him more laughter. “See…see you…” Shindou gasped out between gales of laughter.

 

“Indeed,” Akira replied, gently replacing the receiver in its cradle. “Shindou, you silly little fool.”

 

Despite himself, Akira smiled.