Read on AO3
Rating: Teen+
Pairing: Magnus Carlsen/Hikaru Nakamura
Chapter: 1/1
Word Count: 6048
Add. Tags: Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, Second Chances, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Author Doesn't Know How To Play Chess, No beta we die like the poor mfs who had to compete against hikaru in the lousiana state championship
A/N: guys im new here and i havent written fic in like 6 years idk why i hyperfixated on 2 guys who play chess specifically uhh enjoy
Fic under cut!
Magnus gets up quickly enough for Hikaru not to notice his absence. He walks quietly to the doorway, head resting against the cold frame. He's the perfect distance away, close enough to watch Hikaru’s chest rise and fall, far enough not to whisper something too stupid, or too real. But it's always been that– only just enough. Never to the extent of more, never what he really wanted, only that he was at least getting something. Of course, the sex is good, of course getting to stay the night after drunken chess is good, but it's only enough for Magnus when he’s only ever gotten the most.
The whole last year and a half of mindless sex and the three years of a genuine friendship, he’s never felt so robbed. Robbed of an opportunity to meet him outside of closed doors, pressing a small kiss to his cheek before a game, intertwining their fingers when they sit next to each other at an interview. Even when they weren’t really friends just six years earlier, Magnus’ never-still heart found the constant yearning to be better than this– settling for just enough.
For a while he stands there, watching, waiting for Hikaru to stir awake or call his name as if he knew exactly what he was thinking about. He has to remind himself he doesn’t even want that, that if Hikaru ever figured out what was running through his head all the time he’d recoil in disgust and curse him out of his hotel room. Replace the sheets, change his clothes, wash off every ounce of Magnus until he’s completely clean of him.
Magnus knows that for a fact. Just like he knows many other other facts. He’s memorised a thousand games, , but in every possible end to this he knows that there’s nothing he can do to salvage what they have if Hikaru ever found out how much he really loved him. So he takes a step back, slowly, careful to keep the door slightly ajar until he falls back into the sofa.
He wakes up with a blanket draped over him, and the light of the open drapes shine on his face. He pulls a hand to his eyes, groaning in pain
“Magnus? Are you awake?” Hikaru calls out from the kitchenette where he can hear the soft whir of the coffee machine. “I woke up and you were just shivering out here, is something wrong?”
“No,” Magnus answers quickly, the rasp of his throat making it sound sharp and restless, “I must’ve wandered out and forgotten to go back to bed.”
Hikaru hums, and Magnus knows he doesn’t believe him. That’s fine. He’d rather Hikaru think he’s always lying than tell him just how much his skin burns when they touch or how cold he feels when their lips part.
“We’re free today, you can take the bed to sleep more if you want to,” Hikaru pauses, and from where he’s laying he can almost hear Hikaru’s breath hitch, “or we could go out. You decide.”
Magnus stays quiet, his heart skipping beats. Go out? As a date or as friends or as rivals or as coworkers or as grandmasters? Every label sounds more wrong than the last, like an indecisive opening in a deciding game. He almost laughs at the absurdity, at the panic rising in his chest, but it catches in his throat.
“Not in any way, you know, we could go just to kill time. Or we don’t go, that’s fine too, I’m not attached to any plans, really.” Hikaru says casually, as if Magnus had spiralled aloud.
Before Hikaru can walk back into the room and before Magnus can even think about it, he shoots up, “No. I’d love to go.” He cringes at how desperate he sounds.
Hikaru looks at him, a small smile forming on his face, “There’s a nice park just walking distance from here, might be nice.”
Magnus nods slightly, a little lost in what he said. Once Hikaru turned back into the bedroom he looked to the window– completely overcast. He wonders about rain, about getting sick in time for his match tomorrow, but forgets it altogether at his mental image of him and Hikaru perched under the same umbrella.
–
Magnus keeps the umbrella in a satchel he’s never used before. Along with a mini chess board, wired headphones, and a charger,, essentially nothing all that useful that isn’t already in his pockets. The weather never picks up, if anything the sky is getting clearer. Magnus pretends not to be a little disappointed when the clouds clear up as they stop to get ice cream.
“All I’m saying is that,” Hikaru takes a bite off the ice cream, “if they bothered to score blitz with a slightly higher range elo all these new players wouldn’t care about classical. I don’t know what those commentators were complaining about.”
“But wouldn’t that benefit your fanbase? They’re more likely to engage with online chess in that case.”
“Sure, but I’m not in any need to grow it. This is just for the love of the game, and it's an objective opinion.”
Magnus laughs in a single breath, as he watches Hikaru walk away to throw the container. He can’t help staring, wishing he could just reach out and wrap an arm around him as they walk side by side. Feel the way they lean into each other, inching ever closer.
“I’m really just calling it what it is. Maybe classical isn’t that fun and they need to promote the culture a bit more, but through making it easier? No one plays chess because it's easy.” Hikaru continues on his walk back, head shaking.
“Maybe not easy for you,” Magnus quips back. He hears a far away strike of thunder that makes him shudder a bit. Maybe a little jealous that some two lovers out there are under the same umbrella instead of him. Not that he and Hikaru are lovers, just that for a second he might be able to pretend they are.
Hikaru rolls his eyes, uncaring for the response or the storm behind them, “Right. Because all the money I’ve gotten from the game was because I was struggling a lot more than the next guy.”
Hikaru tilts his head and gestures to continue walking further into the park. “Do you think they care?”
Magnus looks down at him, wondering how fast his mind moves from topic to topic, “Care about what?”
“About what we’re doing.”
Magnus isn’t sure if he means the mindless walk in the park on a free day, or if he means whatever relationship they’re upholding now. “Surely not.” He muses, answering either perspective.
“The internet would go crazy, though. FIDE would make a fuck ton of money from us.”
“They already make a fuck ton of money from us,” Magnus says shallowly, “What I do in my free time shouldn’t be marketable.”
“‘What you do in your free time’, huh?” Hikaru repeats, a small level of snark biting back, “I’m pretty sure I’m the one doing.”
Magnus fights a small blush back and looks up at the brightening sky. Calling out to whatever all-powerful entity up there shows him some pity. He hears Hikaru giggle from his side, elbowing him. Regrettably, he looks down. Hikaru’s smile is back, crinkling the sides of his eyes, shining teeth and all. He calls out again, praying he gets just one chance to kiss his lips in public, or to strike him down right now.
He hears the thunder strike a few ways away, and suddenly it's pouring. He hears children yelling and people rushing under trees. He watches prepared couples take out umbrellas and hold onto one another. He watches all the people in the area vacate completely. But it's just as empty as earlier.
A hand grabs his wrist, pulling him quickly under a small alleyway roof. “Fuck, I forgot my umbrella, we’re already soaked.” Hikaru sighs, shrugging off his thin jacket and taking his phone out of his pockets. “I swear the weather was perfectly fine this morning.”
Weather. Rain. Umbrella. He saw that coming.
“I do.” Magnus responds, not to any question in particular but in a desperate wish to have the vow leave his lips, even out of context.
“Do you what?” Hikaru finally looks up at him, amused.
Magnus digs through his bag– quickly, eagerly. “I thought it might rain today, I forgot I had it.”
“Oh thank God, I think this thing is gonna collapse on us soon.” Hikaru sighs, still staring with soft eyes.
For a second Magnus thinks about getting crushed under the failing structure, how he’d die standing next to Hikaru on a trip he has to remind himself isn’t a date. How he might still have a fraction of a second to grab onto him, before his senses shut off and the last thing he sees is Hikaru smiling around the dreary storm surrounding them.
Magnus pulls up the umbrella in one swift motion, before offering it to Hikaru. He smiles again, brighter this time, and takes Magnus’ hand to lift it up over both of them. It takes a few more dazed steps forward for Magnus to realise how Hikaru’s hand is lightly lying on his forearm, and his body pressed up close to stay under the shade.
They go along that way for a while, in total comfortable silence, only filled with the ambient noise of raindrops falling and the swish of their clothes rubbing against one another. Magnus can’t help but hold his breath, moving gently as if one sudden jerk of the arm would send Hikaru running the opposite direction.
They skip over shallow puddles and stay completely in touch, Magnus more desperate to stay close than anything else. The park stretches onward to nothing but more running ground as they make their way up a walkbridge, overlooking a small flowing stream. Magnus keeps leaning further in, slightly every minute, that maybe at some point they’ll stay this way forever.
“What do you think you’d be doing if you never started playing chess?” It's a fair question that startles Magnus too much. Hikaru adjusts his hand on Magnus, never truly letting go, but doesn’t look right at him.
It isn’t something he’s ever really given thought to before. With all the winning games, all the broken records and getting to see Hikaru every once in a while kept him occupied and content with his own lifestyle that he never bothered wondering who he would be without chess.
“Nothing. I don’t know what I’d even have,” He shrugs. What else could he say? ‘I don’t think I’d exist without chess because it’d mean I’d have to exist without you.’ In all these years of calculated moves,that might be his worst one. .
“You’ve never wondered? The world is… huge, Magnus. Don’t you ever wish you had a life outside 64 squares?”
“Why are you asking me this?” Magnus asks instantly, eyebrows furrowed and a little defensive. It was starting to feel a little too pointed, like being backed into a corner. Forced into a world without the safety of black and white squares, without the opportunity to shake Hikaru’s hand when they face off.
Hikaru lets go of Magnus, back against the wall. He shoves his hands into his pockets. Magnus grips the handle of the umbrella a little tighter to restrain himself from taking Hikaru’s hands back. “I guess,” he pauses, “I think I’m getting kinda tired. Bored. And I’m starting to feel like I’m running out of opportunities. I’m not gonna retire that soon but…”
Hikaru chews on his bottom lip, “Maybe that’s just how I feel. You love chess more than anything.” He smiles as if he’s right.
Magnus can’t stop staring at him, a mix of shock and yearning that's making it harder and harder to stay restrained. Because he doesn’t love chess more than anything. He had to learn that the hard way when Hikaru offered to analyse games in his hotel room with an expensive bottle of champagne the first night they kissed. Magnus stopped loving chess more than anything when he tossed around in the hotel bed, unable to sleep because his heart rate wouldn’t drop for a second. It took him the whole night to not reach toward Hikaru the way he does over a chess board. To shake him awake, grab him by the shoulders and tell him he’s never felt this way before. That this feeling of wanting something so bad had never come to him once, not even when he won his first world championship.
“Not really,” Magnus starts, unable to shut himself up. “I love a lot of things more than chess, but I wouldn’t have any of them without it. I feel like… I feel like I’ve spent my whole life so far using a thousand chess games to play life like a match. Whenever I win, I get another point that bleeds into the rest of my life. I just don’t think I’d ever be happy without it all.”
“You’re happy now?” It's a weird thing for Hikaru to point out, but he’s always been one to see what nobody else could.
The real answer is no. The real answer is that he’s…fine. Neutral, maybe slightly happier when Hikaru touches his skin or kisses him quietly in the hallway where no one can see. But not that happy. Not happier. Only ever enough.
“Sure,” his voice cracks at the end a little, “Aren’t you?” As more and more of his persona falters away, and suddenly Magnus can’t find anything else to say.
“Not as much as I could be.” Hikaru gently reaches for his shoulder, pulling him in until their faces are inches apart. He stares at Magnus, urging. Magus stares back, desperate but unmoving.
He can’t bring himself to lean in, as much as he wants to. His mind flashes quickly, through handshakes, and hickeys, and late nights where he gets just ballsy enough to stay in bed a little longer. He’s longing, constantly, but what after? Once he’s messed up one too many times and Hikaru sees just how much of an asshole he’s truly been all his life, what then? Bitter exes? Sworn rivals? Strangers?
They stay like that until Hikaru gets tired of waiting.“The rain’s stopped, we should head back before it picks up again.”
–
The walk back was nothing less than devastating. Hikaru was two steps ahead, and Magnus couldn't help but drag his feet. It isn’t like he didn’t see it. The way that Hikaru’s shoulders slumped when neither of them moved, or the way that he never stopped looking at his lips, or the way that he wouldn’t look Magnus in the eye after.
But he’d blundered. Frozen in a constant need to lean in. As much as he’d fantasized about it, about sharing a kiss outside of the dark hallways of a hotel at midnight, he’s come to learn the hard way that he doesn’t know how to.
There was no other way to spin it. He lost. He lost the first and only chance he’d get at being something other than a late night fuck or a temporary roomate. He’s lied to himself a thousand times, that whatever this arrangement was, it was perfectly fine. He was getting just enough of Hikaru that he didn’t need to be the one he came home to. But he couldn’t lie this time, he couldn’t say that this is exactly all that they’re meant to be. He’s memorised every opening to their hopeless “romance”, but he never seizes the right one.
Hikaru’s in the bedroom while Magnus sulks in the sofa and they’re right back to where they started that morning. Maybe a little worse. Magnus can’t help but stare at the door, wishing he could just get up and push it open. Apologise for being so stupid, kiss him with all he’s got and tell him he’s never loved anyone or anything more.
Yet, a thousand things keep him seated. Back hunched forward with elbows on his knees, head ducked down. Maybe he’s remembering wrong, that a kiss and a massive declaration of love isn’t even what Hikaru wanted. Maybe he’s failed to read the signs that are telling him to stop staring, stop pining and craving him. Maybe there’s just something he isn’t seeing that's telling him to quit.
Magnus isn’t that stupid. He knows the facts: that he’s hopelessly, totally, obsessively in love with Hikaru; that Hikaru feels, at the very least, something similar and; that he’s absolutely horrified that if they got together now, Hikaru’s gonna wake up sooner rather than later and remember that Magnus isn’t all that special. That he’ll be bored or tired or hateful in a few months, and he’ll never see Magnus again. It’s just not a reality he’s willing to live in.
–
The next time they see each other it’s like nothing had ever happened. In over a year of no contact, their relationship had reset back to only knowing of each other, rather than ever being friends or lovers. Just a brief moment of eye contact across a crowded room of grandmasters and reporters and commentators. Hikaru nods and smiles. Magnus returns the favour, trying desperately not to flinch.
They never play each other in the first few days of the tournament. Never even had games across from one another, as if the organizers knew their history. Magnus keeps winning, and so does Hikaru. Every time Hikaru gets up to leave his table, Magnus stares at the empty space where he once sat, trying to will into his mind a memory of him sitting there. A version of Hikaru that he could still reach out to, say everything he wanted to.
Ask him if he really knew how much Magnus loved him. Ask him if the last year was as torturous for him as it was for Magnus. Ask him if he really meant it last time and if he’d ever want to try again.
Among the interviews and professional banter, he almost does. When Hikaru’s interview is standing just a little too close, he taps him on the shoulder like a nervous child. “Hikaru,” he says, too cold and too professional.
Hikaru, ever the expert at keeping his head down, didn’t even hesitate to smile “Magnus, it’s good to see you here.”
“You too. Are you busy tonight?” What the fuck did he just say? Since when was the goal to invite Hikaru over?
“Not really, just practice,” he laughs, casually, “I forgot how much I actually need to prepare for these things after the hiatus.”
Magnus nods again, stalling to find something else to say. “I could help, if you want. Run a few matches. For a little while.”
Hikaru looks back at him, dumbfounded. Magnus almost takes it back until Hikaru is back to smiling, “sure. I’ll come find you.”
–
Hikaru’s halfway through his second glass by the time he begins to regret not turning Magnus down. Its a new form of torture, sitting on the floor across someone you’d rather be making out with on the couch behind him, playing a game you’re about to lose.
In the year they’ve been separated Hikaru can only name a handful of differences in Magnus: his hair is just slightly too long, his eyes more tired and his hands slightly more calloused. He’s thought about tugging on his hair, looking deep into his eyes and holding his hands far too many times for the few games and total silence they’ve sat through all night.
He spends the whole night watching when Magnus puts his face in his hands, lost in an endgame strategy. Watching as he fidgets with stolen pieces, expertly maneuvering them mindlessly as he’s done a thousand times before. Watching as he’ll look straight at Hikaru patiently waiting for a move, dark eyes intense and unwavering.
The worst part is that he knows the feeling hasn’t gone away, despite having tried to push it down the last 16 months. His heart still races. Every other sentence sounds like a plea. And it’s going exactly how he’s imagined it in late nights of weakness– dimmed lights, a little drunk, all alone together. He’s seen this scene in his head over and over, by now he’s reached out, hand at the back of Magnus’ neck and losing all inhibitions.
But tonight isn’t a fantasy. Tonight he’s swallowing his desperation. Tonight he isn’t pleading. Instead, tonight he sits across Magnus, refills his drink, and plays the game straight.
Hikaru stares at the board but doesn’t see the pieces. Just the hands that move them. He sighs, and puts his head in his hands after a blunder that cost the game. Magnus gives a weak laugh in return, “I’ll get you another drink,” he whispers.
Hikaru peers through his fingers as he watches Magnus drowsily make his way to the sink, occasionally tripping over his own feet in a drunken stupor. “Oh shit,” he can hear Magnus toss a glass into the sink, “we’re out of champagne. I have some terrible canned beer if you want?”
“How terrible?” Hikaru slurs over his words.
“Bad enough you might not finish a whole bottle,” Magnus grins, already working his way into flipping off the cap and handing one to Hikaru. “Cheers, to a terrible hangover.”
Hikaru laughs, throwing his head back, “to a terrible hangover!”
Their fingers brush as they clink glasses, staying in touch for a moment too long before they both take a long swig. Hikaru coughs, almost retching, and laughs, “this is not worth the headache. We won’t have a free day for another week.”
He looks down at his fingers, where he’d touched Magnus just so. The ghost of the warmth reminded him of every bitter night he woke up alone, and every strange morning when Magnus would leave a kiss on his cheek before running off again. He feels his chest tighten, and he closes his eyes again, as if soon he’ll wake back up and stop wondering what could have happened if any of this were real.
“Don’t worry, tomorrow morning I’ll make you this absolutely disgusting hangover cure I learned a few months ago.”
Tomorrow morning. As if Hikaru is going to be staying the night.
Hikaru’s eyes shoot open again only to face Magnus who looks back with an unreadable stare. He can’t pinpoint any feeling of remorse, or shock of accident, if anything it was a look of resignation, one he won’t recover from. He knows it's because it's definitely not an accident.
They look at each other again, as if calculating moves. The silence feels like clock time running ever faster down. They both stand at an equal playing field, and Hikaru knows exactly what he’s trying to say.
And fuck Magnus for not saying that. Fuck Magnus for not even asking Hikaru directly if they’re gonna spend another night together after nearly a year and a half without speaking. Fuck Magnus for expecting Hikaru to go along with it, like a man without dignity. And fuck him for missing just how familiar this feels.
“What do you want from me?” He asks to a dead silent room. He’s frustrated, who wouldn’t be? Yet, Magnus just stares.
“Nothing.”
Hikaru lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He drops his eyes and keeps it together, “Exactly.” He wobbles to his feet, stumbling over collapsing chess pieces and scrambling to pick up his things.
Magnus reaches for the strap of his bag, “No, wait–”
Hikaru turns, slowly losing his cool,“Haven’t we done this before? Aren’t you tired? You want nothing to do with me then act like I’m still…” still yours– “Still someone who’s gonna spend the night.” He stops himself from continuing, from pouring out his devastations and begging Magnus to let him love him or let him leave.
“I’m sorry,” Magnus says, too quickly and too slurred that it almost sounds like nothing. His hand still desperately clings to Hikaru as he looks up at him, expression now totally readable: please.
Hikaru shrugs him off, taking a step back. He doesn’t believe anything he’s seeing at first, Magnus looking up at him from the floor, palms up as if offering all he has. Hikaru squints again, conflicted.
Hikaru takes a deep breath in and asks again, more careful this time:“What do you want from me?”
Magnus, never dropping his gaze, confesses: “As much as you’ll give me.”
Hikaru’s bag drops to the ground and his shoulders slump, finally defeated. Magnus gets up, slow and gentle, as he reaches out for Hikaru. His hand brushes over Hikaru’s face like he can’t believe he’s really there, and leans in, with just enough space between them that Hikaru can feel his shaking breath. Stopping short of any real contact, leaving the heat between them to radiate.
Hikaru closes the gap between them, pressing their lips together in the faintest of touches, but filled completely with emotion and desperation. They pull away just to pull each other closer again, harder this time, hands moving to grasp the other just slightly more.
“Hikaru…” Magnus says against his lips, unmoving as he looks deep into his eyes.
“Everything, Magnus. I’ll give you anything you want.” Hikaru curls his fingers into Magnus’ hair and pulls him in again, deepening the kiss.
Hikaru wakes up warm. He can feel Magnus’ arm shift slightly around him as he breathes steadily, lost to an emotionally exhausting and drunken fatigue. He can feel the touch of Magnus’ skin all over his body, remembering the rest of his clothes abandoned on the sofa outside. Suddenly, Hikaru’s lost all the need to sleep, his eyes no longer hanging heavy as he realises where he is. Wrapped around Magnus’ arms, in a bed they’re sharing tonight. Maybe for many nights after.
Hikaru doesn’t dare move. Part of him is scared he’ll wake some sense into Magnus, reminding him that this is the time he usually takes to run off, remind them both of the real lives they live outside of this, and pretend the next day that none of this even happened. Pretend that they never finally took the time to kiss each other, without leading only with lust for the first time. Pretend that they never finally said something about the years of tension that's haunted the two of them thus far, taking Hikaru into spirals every time he thought about it.
What does any of this even mean, though? He knows something’s shifted, that they’re both more ready than not. That the words left unsaid, translated into promises of “everything” really do mean the hopeless, relentless love he’s felt all this time.
But with what evidence? One soft, shared kiss? Because right after that it was back to a desperate need to touch. Another couple rounds of sex until they were satisfied enough to just fall asleep next to each other. Hikaru can tell himself all he likes of Magnus really loving him the way he does, that this time it’ll be different and they’re playing the right moves. But the real thing? What does he have that isn’t based entirely in anguished fantasy?
He feels Magnus shift from around him, moving everything but keeping as much contact as he comfortably can. It’s jarring, the difference in them after an indirect confession and a year-long separation. “...Hikaru?” He hears Magnus call, “why are you awake?”
There’s something in the words that Hikaru can’t pinpoint. Some bite or agony that had a shared history of leaving in the middle of the night backing it up. Or maybe it was 2AM, and he was overthinking.
Hikaru takes this opportunity to sit up slightly, propping himself up on his elbows and his back against the headboard. Something in his throat itches, words trying to scratch themselves out, “what now?”
Magnus takes the time to tilt his head up, watching Hikaru carefully. He wakes up a little, then, lost in thought. “What do you want?”
“I asked first.”
“I know.”
They pause. Hikaru knows what he wants to hear, “I don’t want this to be something you throw away when you’re over it.”
Magnus keeps his silence, before responding, “I’ve never been over it. I probably never will be. I’ve been… I’ve been obsessed with you since that first night you came over to play a game with me.”
Hikaru stuns at that, “What do you mean.” It isn’t a question, a command if anything.
He looks away, staring down at Hikaru’s hands, “That first night, the way you looked at me, I was… helpless. You were the only person in the world, Hikaru. I had never wanted something so badly that I had no way of getting before.”
Hikaru racks his memory then, “Magnus, that was five years ago.”
Magnus doesn’t dare look back up yet, “No, eight.”
“What are you talking–” and he remembers. Before all the nights together, before they were even really friends. The night after Magnus’ first awful tournament, careless mistake after careless mistake, he’d invited him over. Not a single other intention, just a few games together in the middle of the night, and he’d head home right after.
They really weren’t even friends by then, nothing but colleagues, not even connecting or reaching out after that night. They shared nothing but respectful nods and firm handshakes until 3 years after that first night where they played again and truly tried to be friends. They were young, up and coming kings of the chess world, always reported as having the most potential to rise the ranks. And they played only 4 games before calling it a night.
“Sorry, I know it's stupid. I was just… so caught up with you after then. I didn’t know if you wanted anything to do with me.”
Hikaru continued to stare, dumbfounded. “Magnus, eight years? We didn’t even really know each other then. We were barely even friends–”
“I know how it sounds.”
“We wasted so much time” Hikaru realises quickly, the last word coming out almost as a whimper. He sighs, falling back into the bed and he laughs. He laughs loud and hard to let it all out, nothing to say that could cure the ache in his chest or the regret of time lost to fear. It makes him feel a little stupid.
Magnus sighs, slower now, more tired “I knew there was… something. You made that clear a long time ago. But I just didn’t know if it was too much for me to love you so desperately. It hurts every time, touching you without holding you. It felt worse than missing a move that could have won, you know?”
And of course he does. Like the dozens of times he’s missed the opportunity to have Magnus the way he always wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He waits for Magnus, “I’d rather never tell you than come to lose you. I don’t know what I would’ve done back then, especially in the earlier days. I might’ve quit chess altogether.”
Hikaru knows exactly what he means, and while the fear never dissipates, it feels a lot more worth it now. “So, what changed? Why tell me now? After everything?”
“Because I already did lose you,” He says with finality, a resigned pain coming through in his voice, “Worst year and a half of my life, Hikaru. It made me realise how much I can’t stand waking up without you.”
And Hikaru remembers again. How he’d left in the middle of the night, and never looked back. Finally fed up with the hopelessness of being unrequited, with the constant ache of pretending everything is the same the next morning. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, that last time really was my fault,” he shifts and runs a hand through his hair, “I guess I just didn’t know what would come then. Everything we had back then… I always lied to myself and said it was enough. That I didn’t really need to love you in any other way– just enough and never more.”
Magnus reaches to Hikaru, “It was a blunder. A mistake that’ll haunt me.” He takes Hikaru’s hands and kisses each knuckle just barely. “I’ve sat with the consequences of a life without you.” His voice drops to a whisper, like he doesn’t want Hikaru to hear it, “I’m offering forever, if you want it.”
Tears prick behind Hikaru’s eyes, still drowsy and a little drunk with alcohol and emotion. He gets up just to dive back down, cupping his face and pressing his lips against Magnus’. Magnus hums into the kiss, because that’s all he really needs. “I thought you’d never want this.” Hikaru whispers. Magnus pulls him back in.
Hikaru wakes up first, a throbbing headache greeting him into the sunrise. Far too early to get dressed and ready, far too late to go back to sleep. Magnus’ arms lay heavy around him, just as they had the whole night. Hikaru smiles at the thought, warmth overtaking his body.
He moves slowly, inching Magnus’ arms off him as he tiptoes into the hotel living room. The flash of open light through the drapes making him groan and making his head feel struck with pain. He glances around for the rest of his clothes, pushing past the several abandoned glasses and chess pieces from last night.
He dresses lazily, knowing he’d have to change out in under an hour. “You don’t have to do that,” he hears Magnus tease,voice a little coarse from sleep.
“I’m freezing,” Hikaru lies, still not looking back at him.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have left the bed,” he shrugs back. Hikaru turns to a sight he realises he’s never seen before. Magnus leaning against the doorframe, a wide smile on his face, looking at him like he’s the only thing he can focus on.
Hikaru’s breath stops short for just a second, “I needed a coffee, I’m having the hangover to end all hangovers.”
Magnus keeps smiling at him as he walks to the cupboard and starts pulling out various ingredients, unspeaking. They stay that way, no need to truly fill the silence, Hikaru content with just watching Magnus move.
Magnus hands him a drink in a shotglass, “It will taste like shit but at least you won’t lose later.”
Hikaru mumbles a ‘thanks’ before swallowing and retching. He coughs, “Where did you even learn this?”
“I partied a lot last year, some guy made it in my kitchen.”
Hikaru frowns slightly.
“No need to be so jealous, Hikaru. Most nights were spent missing you.” He says casually, as if that’s something you say to someone after the morning of a desperate confession. “Is this too much?” Magnus asks, as if reading his mind.
Hikaru’s instinctual response is to say yes, saying that they’ve been throwing around confessions all night and are moving too fast despite the context of their history together. But he looks at Magnus again, soft smile on his lips, stray curls falling to his face, head cocked to the side in a way that’s taking everything from Hikaru to not latch onto, and he realises that he doesn’t really care if it is or if it isn’t. Getting what you want will do that to you.
He shakes his head no and leans in again, as they’ve done so many times that night. “I’m so happy you’re here,” Hikaru mumbles between kisses.
Magnus wraps his arms around him again, every bit of contact electric to feel, “So am I.” So Hikaru holds him, like clinging to life.
“Do you think we can skip today?” Magnus laughs.
“Maybe just the first few matches. I don’t think they’ll care if we’re a little late, they’re used to it from you by now.”
Magnus laughs again, and Hikaru feels so helpless at how giddy Magnus is like this. “Do you think it's too suspicious to go together?”
It’s a weighty question that doesn’t scare Hikaru at all. “Let them be. At least they didn’t wait as long as I did.”
if anyone's wondering why i haven't been posting the reason is i got inexplicably entranced by chess again and so i had to go and write a 5k fic about two chess players who are so abnormal about each other that even my mother thinks they're in love.
Compilation of Professional Chess Players X Reader created by chessity_ao3
This fanfiction one-shots are all created by Cheche, any significant or famous person, living or dead are all coincidental and fictional version. This book has been reviewed and making sure that no one will be offended. Read at your own risk. Thank you.
hi there hope you're having a good day.......... your chess rpf fics changed my life......feel free to ignore this ask ofc but do you see any potential in abdusattorov/gukesh as a pairing .......very late to this party but thanks in advance
hiya! it's been so long since i was active in the chess rpf fandom i forgot how it was to be a young guy writing magnus/anish and frantically scanning for any other rpfable moments...
since i haven't been active in the community for years, i'm not sure about nodi/gukesh as a pairing. when i was active they didn't really have many moments together. i would rate pragg/nodi higher on the rpf scale solely bc there was this one interview a couple years ago where pragg was gushing about how much he admired nodi. personally my favoured pairing for the two would be nodi with andrey esipenko (wr masters 2023 anyone) and gukesh with pragg (low-hanging fruit, but i reckon it has equal parts fluff and angst potential).
