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Ding had never felt this much pressure in his life before.
Head in hand, he stared at the lost position on the board after the bishop trade as the realization hit him like a wave. A wave that would wash away his world chess champion title with him, along with his mental stability. He scratched his head for what felt like the hundredth time.
The world was watching him, commentators were going crazy, and his opponent was probably….
Eighteen-year-old Gukesh was pacing around the room, eyeing at him like a hawk. As if Ding was a prey, and he was the predator. The tension was strong in the room, or the fish tank, as commentators liked to call. And Ding was most definitely going to drown.
Not so hopefully, he played Ke3 to which Gukesh immediately replied with a soul-crushing Ke5 as the whole world collapsed onto Ding. He knew he was lost. He knew he couldn’t do anything anymore except resign.
He couldn’t bring himself to. Not yet.
Ding took a sip of water, trying to calm himself down with no success. He knew it was over. He knew he was done for. The black and white squares blended together in his mind, as the chess pieces blurred and swirled around. He almost wanted to break down crying right then and there on the board. Deep inside him, he knew he was ruined, he knew he was destroyed. It would’ve been either his heart or his passion for chess, who knows?
Trembling slightly, he held out his hand in defeat, to which Gukesh immediately hurried over and took. His hands were sweating slightly, probably from excitement, a stark contrast to Ding’s ice cold ones.
It was over.
The next few moments were a blur. Ding could almost hear the whole world cheering for Gukesh, who’s now the youngest world champion. Surely, he should be proud of him, right?
But as Ding signed the score sheet, the urge to jump off a cliff just increased more. From his peripheral vision, he could see the eighteen-year-old in tears but grinning ever so happily. Fuck, Ding was the complete opposite last year when he won the championship.
Trying to hold back tears himself, for a completely different reason from the kid, he took his jacket from the seat as he hurriedly exited the room. Right now, anywhere was better than that room. That fish tank which had drained the life out of him. Anyone would be a better sight than Gukesh winning.
Unfortunately for Ding, he still had the press conference to attend. He hated those with all his heart. But it was the very last one, he told himself. He didn’t even bother fixing his hair or his attire as he was ushered into the conference room by his mother and some other guards. He sat there, zoned out, pouting slightly, as everyone got ready.
The whole thing was a blur. Since he had always been taught to be polite by his mother no matter the circumstances, he smiled and answered questions by Maurice who he wasn’t really fond of. He felt like dying inside.
Then it was all over. The whole room erupted into applause as he unwillingly shook the new world champion’s hands and quickly left the room. That was when he saw his second, his lifeline, his everything, Richard Rapport. The Hungarian man stood in the lobby as he chatted with Ding’s mother. He was wearing a jacket with one of his usual weird-looking, graphic t-shirts underneath it. Even in Ding’s exhausted mind, he still found him rather charming.
As those gentle blue eyes turned to look at him sympathetically, he somehow recalled flashbacks of last night.
"I'm scared." Ding whispered into the quietness of the hotel room. He wondered if Richard even heard him as the Hungarian was silent for a few moments.
Just when Ding was about to shrug it off and return to analyzing a tricky position on the board, he felt a warm hand on his, a soothing gesture which brought a slight tint to his cheeks. He looked at Richard, who was just closing his laptop shut. That was when their eyes met, deep blue eyes connecting with dark brown ones. Suddenly, the room felt too warm for Ding. He was just about to get lost in those soft ocean blue eyes when the Hungarian gave a light squeeze to his hand. That was the closest he had come to his heart almost exploding.
"It’s okay," The blond-haired man reassured him in a tone which made Ding want to leave everything behind and run off into the sunset with this man.
"You'll do great." He felt Richard give a light squeeze to his hand again before letting go. Ding almost chased the touch desperately.
And after the whole interaction, they were back at chess again. As Ding glanced over at the Hungarian who was busy looking over opening lines on the laptop, he wondered if it was just his exhaustion imagining things. Imagining moments of having something unnamable between them.
Ding looked away.
Before Ding knew it, an arm was around his shoulder, and another around his waist. He was suddenly caught in an awkward side-hug, Richard’s chin resting on the side of his head. He leaned into his touch, too exhausted to even resist as he let out a long sigh. He thought he would just break down crying right then and there, but maintained his composure. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to communicate to know how Ding was feeling. He still gave his mom a small smile, declining her kind offer of a water bottle.
They stayed like that for a few moments, before fans and paparazzi started gathering in the hall and Ding's mom hurriedly gestured to follow her to the car back to the hotel.
"Are you sure you’ll be okay all by yourself?" Richard insisted for the third time since he accompanied Ding to his hotel room, placing his hand on the door before he could slam it shut. Of course, he didn't want him to leave. But the match was over, and wouldn’t it be weird to have your second in your hotel room when you're not even going to talk about chess?
Ding hesitated for maybe a little too long, because Richard was already pushing his way into the room when he returned to his senses. He stared as the blond man closed the door shut behind him. Alright then, everything would be fine unless some nosy paparazzi caught sight of Richard Rapport forcing his way into Ding Liren's hotel room in the middle of the night which would add spice to the already scandalized chess world.
Once Richard was inside, he cleared his throat, adding more awkwardness into the air. Perhaps he was guilty about invading Ding's privacy, and it was already too late to turn back. Ding, honestly, didn’t mind at all.
He tried to be cool about it, shrug it off, act nonchalant, as he went over to sit on his bed. He tried not to stare too much at the Hungarian who followed and sat next to him. Together, they stared out at the lively city which was glowing with car lights and street lamps. Above it all was the night sky itself, with tiny specks of stars littered everywhere.
Just like that, the blond man's arm was around Ding's shoulders again as he rubbed his arm up and down. It was a soothing gesture, Ding thought, as he leaned onto Richard's shoulder with a content sigh and tried his best not to purr. Having a human version of a golden retriever by your side wasn't so bad after all.
Ding had almost fallen asleep when he heard shifting noises beside him and the warmth of Richard’s hand disappeared from his arm. Embarrassingly, he almost whined.
“I…well, I think you deserve some alone time now.” The Hungarian said softly, looking down at the floor. Ding barely heard his words and stared at him instead. He noticed his soft yet defining features basked in moonlight, his shoulder-length blond hair falling over his face. Ding had the sudden urge to tuck a strand behind his ear.
“You know, um, recover from today’s game, get cleaned, go to sleep, yeah?” Richard continued, finally looking at Ding. The latter kept staring numbly, unable to gather the thoughts racing in his mind.
The Hungarian finally sighed and stood up, patting Ding on his shoulder as he did so. That was when Ding finally broke out of his trance, grabbing Richard’s hand when he walked away towards the door. Why he stopped his second from leaving his hotel room in the dead of night, he did not know. But in the moment, his heart was beating loud in his own ears, and he suddenly felt ridiculous under the gaze of the blond-haired man. He desperately wanted him to stay. Bask in this comfort.
“Yes?” Richard spoke, and Ding finally broke free from his thoughts. He felt his cheeks burn slightly.
“Um…can you please stay? Only if you want to, of course.” Ding said in a rush, mustering up the best puppy eyes he possibly could. The Hungarian’s gaze softened noticeably.
“Of course.”
Ding wasn’t sure how they ended up like this.
One moment, they were having a casual small talk on the bed, and the other, both of them were only in their boxers as they stood in the shower, Richard behind Ding as he washed his short, dark hair in lazy motions. Ding would’ve denied it and called it inappropriate if he had been told a week ago that he would be in this situation, but, well, here they were now. Ding’s mom would not have approved of this behaviour from him, but he couldn’t care less at this moment. His mood was significantly better compared to the moment when he lost the championship.
“You have to take care of your hair, you know.” Richard began, rubbing slow, smooth circles on Ding’s head. “You’re rich already, why not use some expensive conditioners?”
Ding laughed softly at that, leaning into his touch. “I would, if I had long, gorgeous hair like yours.” He replied without really thinking, although it was quite true.
Richard’s hands paused on Ding’s hotel shampoo-covered hair, then continued threading through it after a moment. Ding heard a chuckle behind him. It was one of the most pleasant sounds he’d ever heard and had grown accustomed to.
“Your hair’s as good as it is,” The Hungarian replied, now washing away the shampoo. “You just need to treat it nicely.”
Ding nodded, half listening and half dozing off. He would’ve been asleep by now if they hadn’t been constantly chatting or if his legs weren’t tired from standing so long. His eyelids drooped slightly, and his head hung low.
He was rudely broken out of his pleasant sensation by the gentle tug of a hand pulling on his wet hair.
“Careful,” Richard spoke softly. “Don’t fall asleep yet, I don’t want to carry you out of here and take care of you like you’re a small toddler.”
Ding pouted, letting Richard throw a towel on his head and wrap a larger one around his small frame. “But you’re already treating me like one.”
The Hungarian gave a toothy grin as he wrapped a bathrobe around himself and exited the shower.
Richard didn’t know what had gotten into him.
As he laid in bed with Ding, he couldn’t help but stare at the Chinese whom he had grown to care for. It was just about chess at first, when the man had requested Richard to be his second for the 2023 Championship, to which he accepted immediately. It quickly spiraled into something deeper between the two of them, which somehow brought them even closer together.
They were almost like lovers, or at least Richard wished they were, from the way they always got each other. They understood each other in a way no one ever thought they would. In fact, Richard had never been this touchy with anyone before he got to know Ding. Heck, they sometimes even sleep together like they’re doing now.
At the moment, the latter was sleeping, or at least he thought he was. Ding’s eyes were closed, his expression so peaceful Richard wanted to drown in it. He looked so graceful even in his sleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically in a soothing way. The Chinese man’s hair had dried quickly thanks to the short length.
Richard sighed dreamily, scooting closer towards Ding’s small frame. He wrapped his arm around the man’s waist, pressing against him. It was only sometimes when he couldn’t resist the temptations to hold him. Anywhere. Sure, physical touch had always been his love language, but it was different when it came to Ding. Around him, Richard always behaved like a starving man. Even in public, with cameras and people, his hands were always over Ding’s body. On the shoulder, around the waist, ruffling his hair, holding hands- everywhere. The issue only increased behind closed doors, as he could have Ding all to himself.
Richard hesitantly pressed his forehead against Ding’s, breathing in the faint scent of mint shampoo from his hair. Calm and steady breaths from the Chinese fanned Richard’s face, and it somehow drove him to kiss the man’s small button nose. He placed his lips for a long moment there, before pulling back.
He wanted to get lost in this moment forever, Richard thought as he slowly drifted off to sleep himself.