Chapter Text
The first time it happened was the hardest for Akira.
"Don't go. Please."
Akira rolled over on his futon. It took him a minute, in his half-sleep, to remember that Shindou was sleeping over– was in his room with him.
"Please, don't leave."
Hikaru's voice was quiet and ragged at the edges.
"Shindou," he called gently. "Shindou, wake up."
"No, please. I'll let you play."
In a combination of exasperation and sympathy, Akira crawled across the floor and hovered over his rival. Hikaru's face was furrowed in anguish.
"Shindou. Wake up, you're having a nightmare."
"Sai," Hikaru cried, tears falling down his cheeks. Akira's heart caught in his throat at the word, suddenly realizing he was witnessing something very private, something he should not be witness to unless he could bear betraying Hikaru's confidence.
"Sai, come back. I'll let you…"
Akira put his hand on Hikaru's chest. Didn't know if he was doing it to free himself of the obligation of knowing about something he wasn't supposed to know, or to relieve Hikaru's intense suffering. But he did, for whatever reason, shake his rival gently and urgently.
"Shindou! Wake up."
It was enough, and Hikaru's hands were on Akira, wet eyes wide, chest heaving. Staring at his rival, his friend. Light from a full moon painting Akira's skin with a comforting glow. For just a moment, he thought those almond shaped eyes and powder-blue, moonwashed skin might have been Sai's.
"Touya…?"
"You were having a nightmare, Shindou," he said, sternness hiding the relief creeping into his voice.
"I– I'm–" he said, stuttering as he sat up, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. Suddenly looking like he was twelve again.
"It's okay," Akira said, putting his hand on Hikaru's arm. "Don't worry about it."
Hikaru looked Akira in the eyes for a few beats, saw him looking beautiful and gentle in a way he never looked by daylight. Closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead on Akira's shoulder.
"You–" Akira began, surprised.
"Just for a second," Hikaru whispered, voice still hoarse. "I need to– Just for a little while. Please."
So Akira let Hikaru relax into him, running his hand up and down Hikaru's arm a few times, gentle and platonic, while Hikaru's breath returned to a normal rhythm. He patted his hand in a nervous, friendly way on Hikaru's before giving in and tilting his head over to rest on his rival’s.
They sat like that for a long minute, until Hikaru considered himself recovered, mumbled an embarrassed thank you and turned away from Akira's loose embrace.
Akira didn't stand up right away, gaze lingering over his rival, his friend. And Hikaru didn't want to look, knew what he would find if he did, but he could only stand being stared at for so long. So he rolled over and lifted his head, and found Akira gazing away from him, into the darkness of the room, looking as though he had taken some of Hikaru's depthless loneliness onto himself.
Akira never demanded answers, Hikaru had long realized, in the nine years since he'd promised to tell Akira the truth. There were moments, usually when the topic of Shusaku came up, or when Hikaru got that particular sad look on his face, that he saw the desire for answers light up behind Akira's eyes. But Akira always kept his mouth closed. Always waited. Was so very patient, for a man who'd spent half his life chasing all of the other things he'd wanted so relentlessly.
Hikaru appreciated this. Moreso now, since he kept having nightmares and Akira kept being there, rousing him from the recurring terror of being left by Sai, being there for him to hold on to until the violent loneliness melted away and the reality of things, that Akira was there and that he was not alone at all, came back to him.
Hikaru was sure he had shouted Sai's name in his sleep. More than once. Knew it was cruel, it was practically taunting Akira, and yet Akira never asked questions. Martyred himself, caring for Hikaru so unconditionally while Hikaru subconsciously obsessed over someone else. Holding Akira’s hand while he shouted another man's name.
Sai had always been between them in some capacity or another, bringing them closer and closer together, but always keeping them an arm's length apart.