Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction ❯ The Extent of Denial ❯ Personal Space ( Chapter 9 )

Waya stretched, flopping back down on Isumi's couch like a brick. “So what did you rent?” he asked curiously around a hastily acquired mouthful of popcorn.

 

“Hmm…it's called `Absolute Confidence'. It's supposed to be the heart-warming story of two friends that are inseparable, even through war and changes in their lives. They recommended it at the video store.”

 

Waya perked up, interested. “That sounds good. Put it in and sit down. Come on, stop doing your fussy little straightening-the-house act and get over here. I want to watch it.”

 

Isumi laughed and complied. “And why is it that we're always at my place?”

 

He rolled his eyes and said in unison with Isumi, “'Because Waya's place is always a mess.' Yes, I know. I rarely clean, and it's a terrible sin.”

 

Isumi put in the movie, still smiling, and sat down next to Waya.

 

As the movie played, Waya couldn't help but notice that the two main characters gave off the same kind of vibe that he picked up from Hikaru and Touya. He tried to ignore it in favor of finishing the movie and not disappointing Isumi.

 

His suspicions were confirmed in the middle of the movie, when one dragged the other close in the middle of a heated argument and suddenly kissed him.

 

“Wow, they didn't say anything about this,” Isumi muttered, sounding a little embarrassed.

 

Waya just stared at the screen. It was not a fake kiss. It was most definitely a sincerely executed intimate kiss. He could not avert his eyes as they began taking off each other's clothes, and had to force himself to keep breathing. He was already blushing, but as the taller man murmured intimate, loving things to his smaller companion wrapped tightly in his arms, Waya felt himself turn purple.

 

He managed to sit there through several more tender kisses and their caressing of each other, but when their naked bodies stretched out on the bed, tangling with each other, he couldn't take it anymore.

 

Waya shot up, frantic. “I need air.” He bolted out of the door of Isumi's apartment, leaning against the wall outside.

 

His heart was beating too quickly, and he was disturbed to notice that he was actually somewhat aroused by what he had just fled from. There were days that he cursed his own strange beliefs. He did not believe in self-pleasure. He thought it an embarrassing thing, as sex was something that he would have access to as soon as he found the right person. As a consequence, his hormones seemed to be slightly out of control, especially if he was reacting to something like that.

 

The door opened, startling him. Isumi closed the door behind him and drew close, quietly examining Waya with dark blue eyes. Waya stared back, wide-eyed.

 

“Waya, we need to talk about your strange issue with homosexuality.” Isumi placed a hand against the wall on either side of Waya's head, effectively trapping him.

 

“No, we don't.” He moved to duck under Isumi's arm, and found himself pressed against the wall by a suddenly much closer Isumi. Panicked by the proximity and the closeness of his friend's face to his, he reacted instinctively and shoved the other boy with all of his strength.

 

Isumi staggered back, arms windmilling - and hit the railing, starting to tip over.

 

Waya's heart stopped in his throat, and everything seemed to freeze and speed up all at the same time. If Isumi fell from the 2nd floor -

 

He darted forward, grabbing handfuls of the other boy's shirt, and wrenched Isumi back toward him, arms closing tightly around the taller boy to secure him. He was pinned against the wall again, but this time he made no move whatsoever. This was much better than a hurt or possibly even dead Isumi. His friend was so much more important than his issues.

 

Isumi's hands came up to grab his shoulders firmly and pushed him slightly away. “We need to talk. Now. You almost hurt me, Waya!”

 

“I know!” he cried, staring up into Isumi's eyes, his own wide and panicked. “I'm so sorry. So sorry!” His fists remained clenched in the other boy's shirt, determined not to let him go, or let him fall.

 

Isumi took his hand, pulling him back inside the apartment. Waya could feel that the other boy was shaking.

 

The dark-haired pro pushed him down to sit on the bed, taking the computer chair beside it. Facing Waya, Isumi said, “Talk. You have always had this extreme personal space issue, but this is the only time it has almost hurt me.”

 

Waya didn't want to talk about it, and said as much.

 

“You don't have a choice,” Isumi replied darkly, scowling intently at him.

 

“I…”

 

“Perhaps we need to start desensitizing you to touching other people. It's not the headlocks or slaps that bother you, oddly enough. It's things like this.” Isumi leaned forward, touching his fingers lightly to Waya's arm.

 

Despite his best intentions, Waya jumped and leapt backwards.

 

Isumi raised his brows, then moved over to the bed to sit beside Waya. “Waya, we've been friends for so long. Can't you trust even me? What are you afraid of? I'm not going to hurt you.” Isumi raised a hand and lightly ran a finger over the side of Waya's neck.

 

Waya flinched away.

 

“And then there's your attitude towards Hikaru and Touya. You truly are obsessed with their interaction.”

 

“It's bad…” Waya whispered to the depths of those blue eyes, imagining against his will Touya and Hikaru doing the same sort of thing as the two men in the movie. As if that wasn't objectionable enough, he and Isumi suddenly replaced the other two in his head, making him grip his head in his hands.

 

“No!” Waya breathed harshly, closing his eyes tightly to shut out the sight of the real live Isumi looking at him. It just fueled the terrible vision.

 

What had made him shove Isumi away so dangerously? In that moment, it had reminded him of another time when his friend had been thrown against him in a train - and he had reacted in exactly the same way, sending the taller boy sprawling into the other passengers. They had never really talked about it, but he knew it had hurt Isumi's feelings.

 

It was the closeness - Isumi's face close to his, almost as if the other boy meant to kiss him. Seeing those blue eyes so close…was alarming. Intensely disturbing.

 

“Let's try just sitting close to each other on the couch. Come on.”

 

“Do we have to?” he asked plaintively.

 

“Waya! It is not a fate worse than death to be close to someone else.”

 

Whenever Isumi slipped into this stern mode, he tried to do whatever the other boy wanted. He was intimidated by stern Isumi.

 

He meekly followed Isumi to the couch and sat quietly beside the other boy, aware of the warmth of his body close at hand.

 

Tense as he was, when Isumi started chatting with him about amusing and irrelevant things, he relaxed and felt that he might be a little tired. He attempted to keep up his end of the conversation, but soon found his thoughts drifting…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hikaru slowly turned his head towards his cell phone as it began ringing from its resting place beside him on the bed, staring vacantly into its blue glow.

 

As soon as he had gotten home, he had run upstairs to lay on his bed in the dark. He refused to acknowledge that tears were still running down his face.

 

He forced his eyes to focus on the screen. It read `caller unknown'. He picked it up languidly and hit the green button. “Hello?” Silence. He tried again. “Hello?” His voice sounded husky and exactly as if he'd been crying like a girl.

 

There was a long silence on the other end, and he could feel someone there. There was the slightest sound of someone's hitching breath, and then the click of a disconnection. Hikaru gave his phone a disappointed glare. It had most likely been a wrong number.

 

No sooner than he had put it down than it began ringing again. It was Amari. “Yeah?” he answered, trying to sound a little more manly.

 

“Are you home? If so, I'd like to come over.” She sounded coy. Sweet.

 

He didn't care. “Sure, whatever.” His chest felt empty and barren, as if everything had been torn out, and all he could see were Akira's fierce eyes telling him that he had gone too far.

 

“Really?? I'll be over in a few minutes!”

 

Hikaru thought she sounded much too cheerful.

 

No doubt his mother would happily escort her in at any time, whether it be 8 P.M. or midnight. She seemed to like Amari - or any girl that he brought home - way too much.

 

She had seen him when he tried to race up the stairs, and with that sense that most mothers have, she had known instantly that something was wrong. She had asked him if he was crying, asked him what had happened. Refusing to answer, he had bolted into his room and locked the door behind him.

 

He hardly felt like himself anymore, what with all this anguish and anxiety he'd been feeling lately.

 

After what seemed like two seconds (and much too soon), a gentle knock came at his door. Hikaru struggled up to unlock the door, then turned back and collapsed right back onto the bed.

 

Amari let herself in tentatively, as if expecting an attack. When nothing happened, she eased the door shut behind her. “Hikaru…why are you in the dark?”

 

“No reason,” he mumbled into the duvet.

 

Her weight settled onto the bed beside him and vague alarms went off in his head. This might lead to a repeat of the last incident. He hoped not, as she'd had her work cut out for her in getting him sufficiently aroused last time.

 

“Hikaru, I truly love you, you know.” Her voice sounded dry, but gentle.

 

He felt a stab of guilt. “Mmm,” he responded into the bed.

 

“I'd really like you to do something for me…to me.”

 

Hikaru opened his eyes wide, turning to look at her. Did she not notice that he wasn't really in that sort of mood?

 

Coy and guileful, she captured one of his hands and pressed it over her breast. “Surely you're interested!”

 

Surely he wasn't. “A-amari. I'm not really—“

 

She pushed his hand down and slipped it under her skirt, watching him closely as he tensed. “Are you a real boy or not, Hikaru?”

 

His fingers wanted to recoil from the feel of her panties, from the warmth against them. His mind was desperately looking for an excuse to end this, and he damned himself for being apathetic enough to allow her over at a time like this.

 

“How do I answer that?” he whispered, forcing a smile that felt as though it must reflect the growing sickness inside of him.

 

“Like this,” she murmured, moving to slip his hand into her panties.

 

As soon as he touched the flesh there, the humid warmth, he yelped and jerked away as if burned. Almost unconsciously, he wiped his hand on the duvet, huddling into the bed. “I can't!”

 

Blazing aqua eyes.

 

Amari was silent for a long time, then with a sneer in her voice said, “Would it be better if I were Touya? Would you be able to perform then, Hikaru?”

 

He gasped, jerking his head up to stare at her. “A-amari! How can you say something like that?!”

 

She gave him a knowing look and leaned over him, pinning him to the bed. “I'm not completely blind, you know. Why don't you just pretend I'm your Touya?”

 

Hikaru shuddered, closing his eyes. “He's not - we're not - it's nothing like that!”

 

“You're right, because he'll never love you,” Amari replied in a hard tone.

 

He bit his lip, bringing his arm up to cover his eyes, and tried to quell the sting of fresh tears.

 

“And you've been crying. Did he hurt your feelings? Did he find someone suitable, say, a nice girl?”

 

Hikaru wanted to hurt her. His fists were clenched. “I wouldn't know,” he ground out in a low voice, eyes squeezed shut as tightly as they would go.

 

She slid a leg between his as she said, “Imagine Touya doing this.” “And this.” She ran a hand down his stomach.

 

He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, trying not to imagine any such thing, but the kiss wouldn't leave him alone, and the way the curve of Akira's hip had fit so nicely into his hand, body fitting with his, mouths sealing perfectly. To perhaps kiss him again…

 

“You're very predictable, Hikaru. Your body responds right away when you think about him, whether it be a blush on your face or a reaction in certain other areas. You're aroused, just…like…that. Who would have thought that a cute boy like you would be a faggot?”

 

Hikaru gasped, pulling his arm away to glare up at her. “I am not gay!”

 

Amari gave him a pitying look that had a touch of calculation behind it. “You can't bear to touch me. You can't become aroused enough for sex. You never initiate anything. Yet you react like a virgin girl with her first crush whenever Touya is around. How can you say you aren't gay, or that you don't want him?”

 

He closed his eyes again, trying not to show his emotions as expressions. “I'm just shy. Touya and I are best friends. I'm just used to him.” There was something desperate in him, panicking at the stretched and thin line that he was having to walk.

 

“Hikaru, it's not normal. This is pitiful. You're in such obvious denial. I could be very useful to you, you know. Assist your career, keep you on the straight and narrow. We could get married…and if you don't like that idea, why I could always share your preferences and feelings with the Go community…and with Touya. And Touya would be ruined, too, naturally.”

 

Hikaru choked, pushing her off of him and snarling. “How could you! Leave Akira alone!”

 

She seemed amused by his aggression. “Or what?”

 

He felt something cold and sharp rise within him. “Don't challenge me, Amari.”

 

“If your Akira is so important to you, you'd best change your attitude.”

 

He sat up, enraged. “Get out of my room! Leave my house right now!”

 

“Don't forget…if you bar me from entering when I come back, I'll just go right to the Go community. You want me on your side, Hikaru. Be kind to me.”

 

Hikaru was only a moment away from throwing a heavy object at her when she departed from his room. He lay back down on the bed, even more miserable than before.

 

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, sadly still somewhat aroused. If he tried very hard, he could imagine that Amari had excited him.

 

He would go looking for Akira tomorrow to make things right.