Disclaimer: I own nothing. Especially not HikaGo. I do get OWNED when I attempt to play go, however. I don't think that counts. ^^;;
R&R appreciated. Flames will be ignored. Thoughts are in italics.
Akira turns restlessly in the double bed, turning his back on his lover and tugging a pillow over his head in a futile effort to block out the noise. The cool, smooth fabric of the sheet slides along his bare hip as he continues to burrow under the plump cushion as if, through sheer effort, he can dig into the mattress itself and finally get some sleep.
He's probably sleeping on his back. He only snores when he does that. If I reach over and nudge him a little, maybe he'll roll over?
Akira considers this as he breathes shallowly into the pillowcase, one arm awkwardly draped over the top, pressing the pillow against his ear. It doesn't help.
But he has a match tomorrow, and he'll be cranky if I disturb his sleep, and the last thing I want is an argument at 3AM again!
Akira remembers the last time he and Hikaru argued in the middle of the night, as well as the energetic "making up" that had followed the disagreement. He hadn't been able to look Mrs. Suzuhara in the eyes for weeks afterward, his ears burning every time he passed her door across the hall as she lounged against it in her bathrobe, smoking a cigarette and smirking at the young pro.
Why do I put up with this?
Just then, Hikaru rolls over, pressing his bare chest against Akira's back and draping one arm over his waist, nuzzling against the back of his neck and murmuring a soft "I love you" before subsiding into sleep once more, this time without the chainsaw sound-effects.
Oh. That's why.