Archive of Our Own ^beta

November 18, 2010

Hikaru didn’t remember how it started. 

“I don’t have anything to prove.” He muttered under his breath, hand furiously tying his shoelaces. His stepfather, sprawled on one of the twin beds, raised an eyebrow before returning to his chess magazine. 

“They called you the next Bobby Fischer again.” He informed Hikaru. It was an inside joke between them, whenever Hikaru achieved something the chess writers would scrabble to compare him to the best American player. But right now, after Hikaru had just lost another game to probably the best player of all time all it did was rub salt into his wounds. It should have been on that podium, he had worked hard, he had amazing results, was leading before the last round before he sat down across from Carlsen. 

An English. Thirty moves of theory, both of them blitzing out the moves. A dead equal middlegame. Opposite color bishops, dead draw. Hikaru was debating when to offer a draw. 

Then Magnus started to bring his king. Okay, the position was still relatively simple. A few more moves. Magnus twirled a pawn, thinking before sliding his rook over, cutting his king off. 

Thump, thump, thump.

Suddenly Hikaru couldn’t focus. All he could hear was the banging of the clocks at the tables next to them. In his peripheral vision, Magnus was still twirling his pawn. He could hear the felt bottom of it hit the table. 

Focus Hikaru focus.

Magnus unscrewed his water bottle and gulped it down. He even had a small smile on his face. That’s when Hikaru knew he was fucked. Magnus expected to win. 

Hikaru glanced at the clock, the numbers steadily ticking down. He didn’t have a clue what to do in this position. This endgame was dead equal- until it wasn’t. Everything he calculated, it all looked bad. He scanned the board, mind racing. What did I do wrong, what did I do wrong, what did I do wrong-

A chair slid back. Magnus stood up and walked off the stage. He had a stupid walk, Hikaru thought. Almost like a saunter. 

And why shouldn’t he, a voice in his head whispered, He’s won already.

Against his better judgment, he looked. Magnus was a few feet off looking at Levon and Anish’s game with a stupid expression on his face. He glanced at Hikaru and Hikaru quickly looked back down at the board, faking calculating something. He even threw in a few facial expressions. 

Everything was a mind game when it came to Magnus. 

After a few more minutes of desperately scanning his position, looking for anything that had even the slightest chance of holding a draw he exhaled heavily. He stopped the clock and blindly thrust his hand forward, already looking down at his scoresheet. As soon as he felt a hand grasp it, he let go. Scribbling a signature on both scoresheets, he grabbed his jacket and almost ran off the stage. Faces blurred past him, other players staring. It was two of the best players in the world, rising talents. Of course, everyone would be looking. On the screen above the stage, the position was broadcasted for everyone to gawk at it, to wonder how Hikaru had lost this. 

It was a comfortable hold, and he blew it. His stepfather met him in the rest room. 

“You didn't make any mistakes.” He tilted the laptop screen around to show his stepson the engine analysis.

He just outplayed you. The thought was left unsaid between them.

It was dead equal for ninety percent of the game. However, somewhere along the endless rook and queen moves and pawn pushes it slowly crept up in his favor. 

0.0, -0.1,- 0.2

Hikaru was always playing one of the top three engine moves. The problem was that Magnus was always playing the first. 

It was always like this. 

“You just can’t beat him.” He fumed to himself, well-aware he was acting like a child. If you play absolutely perfectly you could escape with a draw. Anything less and he would grind you down in a fifty move endgame. 

Afterwards, after the terrible closing ceremony where Hikaru had to stand on the second place podium and fake a smile for the cameras, after he had to gather closer to Magnus for a photo, their podium’s height only adding to the few inches Magnus had on him, after he went out for a few drinks, he got the invitation. 

“Magnus wants to play some blitz games with you in his hotel room.” 

And fuck it, Hikaru thought as he finally managed to get his sneakers on and out the door. Yes, he was a bit drunk and yes his ego was hurt but his reputation was on the line. 

Objectively, he knew this was a bad idea. Knew it like how he felt it in his bones when he was losing. Meeting Magnus on his own territory, Magnus summoning him like he was some fucking king or something. Nothing good could come out of it. But at that moment, Hikaru couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He’d always been praised for his intuition in chess. It never failed him, it was why he was probably the best blitz player. He just knew the correct move, in any position. He just wished his intuition was the same off the board. 

~

On the way up to Magnus’s room, Hikaru had plenty of time to chicken out. Make some excuse. He was tired, he was leaving to fly back to America tomorrow. But they both knew how that would look after just losing to Magnus. He wasn’t scared of him, he wasn't. He was human after all, he had his weaknesses in chess. 

Of course he's in a suite, he thought to himself after he got off the elevator. He won everything at this point, he was probably rich. Don't get it wrong, Hikaru wasn’t in a tight spot financially, he was just smarter with his money. 

The first thing Hikaru noticed after Magnus opened the door was that he had taken off his jacket from earlier. He was in his formal white shirt, his sponsors' logos prominently displayed on the side. His hair was tousled, and his eyes seemed a bit glazed. It appeared that Hikaru hadn't been the only one drinking that night.

“You actually came.” His voice was slightly slurred, Norwegian accent more apparent. Oh. Was the whole thing a joke? 

Hikaru crossed his arms and leaned back. “It sounded interesting.” 

That seemed enough for Magnus who opened the door wider, inviting him in. As he crossed the threshold, two things became apparent to Hikaru.

One: They were not alone.

Magnus's father reclined in one of the chairs positioned in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, with a chess journalist Hikaru vaguely recognized sitting in the other.

So they would have an audience. 

Two: The hotel room was dimly lit, with only a desk lamp casting a warm glow on the room 

There was a makeshift tripod with an iphone propped up against a water bottle in front of the desk. Hikaru's gaze drifted toward the chessboard on top. It called to him like an old friend, a silent reminder of the game that had both defined and haunted him for so long.

“What's with the camera?” Hikaru asked, choosing the seat closer to the door. 

“I wanted to record a little bit of the match,” the chess journalist spoke up. “For personal use only.” 

Hikaru nodded. His brow furrowed as he studied the chessboard, his thoughts snared like a fish in a net. He took a deep breath before reaching out to reset the board. He had never struggled with having an audience, this was his job after all. 

Magnus emerged from the kitchenette area, a shot glass in either hand. Jesus, he never stopped drinking or what? He lifted one to Hikaru, with an almost smirk on his face. 

Hikaru felt he was going to be sick if he drank more, he wasn't a regular drinker at all, but he couldn't turn down a challenge could he? That was why he was here after all?

He took the shot glass and downed it quickly before reaching for the clock. “3+0 or 3+2?”

“3+0. Flagging is fun.” Hikaru ignored the jab, focusing on setting the clock. A few months prior Magnus had flagged him in a winning position in a casual blitz tournament and the pain still lingered. “ At least if we play online, we still know who's better.” Hikaru thought, thinking of his plus score against Magnus on ICC. 

Magnus grabbed the kings off the board and swapped them behind his back before extending two closed fists to Hikaru. 

“Left.” Hikaru coughed, why was he feeling so weird? It was just some blitz games, his specialty. It had been the one thing he had been better than Magnus at ever since they were kids. He had the edge, he did. Magnus opened his fist to the black king. Hikaru kept his expression neutral. Colors didn't matter in blitz, nothing did except good moves fast. 

“Alright, let’s do this.” He sprawled lazily in the other chair, his knee briefly brushing Hikaru’s under the table before Hikaru jerked away. He extended his hand and Hikaru grabbed it for the briefest second before starting the clock. 

The first game was a blur, an exchange Spanish. Hikaru was surprised by the opening choice, but he wasn't phased. Prep didn't mean anything in blitz. The room was silent except for the loud banging of the clocks, particularly as they got into the endgame. With no increment they had to play so fast the pieces were falling down with no time to adjust. In the end just two kings were left on the board. Magnus stuck out his hand but Hikaru ignored it, reaching for the captured pieces. He was not going to shake Magnus’s hand a thousand times, it was stupid. 

Nimzo-Larsen, Dragon, Najdorf, Grand Prix, Ponziani, KID, Nimzo, Scotch, London, English, Scandi, Catalan, Grunfield, Berlin

Magnus kept surprising him by veering into obscure opening variations. Hikaru grappled with finding equilibrium in these unfamiliar openings. He wasn't the type to memorize a multitude of obscure lines like Fabiano Caruana; instead, he leaned heavily on intuition and a deep understanding of chess, akin to Judit Polgar. After the fifth time he flagged because of too much time spent in the opening phase Hikaru sighed and pushed his hair back. He could see the chess journalist he still didn't know the name of writing the score down on a hotel notepad. He had been leading at one point, but steadily, move by move, point by point, Magnus had crept up. They kept trading blows but Magnus was ahead by two points now.

How many hours had slipped away? Hikaru had lost all sense of time amidst the relentless exchange of pieces and the relentless ticking of the clock. At some indeterminate point, Henrik had quietly left. The alcohol was gradually clouding his thoughts; in the last game, he had come dangerously close to blundering a piece. Still, he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not until he had the upper hand.

Meanwhile, Magnus looked as composed as ever, almost calm despite the shots he would down in-between games. He had almost a lazy way of adjusting his pieces before the start of the game that seemed almost disrespectful to Hikaru. 

It was after maybe, five, perhaps ten more games, that the journalist finally left too. He took his iphone with him and Hikaru finally felt he could relax a bit more now. He had been acutely aware of the lens of the camera bearing down on him, especially in losing positions. He had only been able to flag Magnus in a few games. It was like chess came almost easy, almost effortlessly to Magnus. Like he had committed every move to memory. He played chess almost like Stockfish, moves that at first made you confused but gradually dawned on as the best. 

His mind wandered as the board only grew darker with the setting sun outside. The desk lamp was barely enough light, but Hikaru knew he couldn’t complain. Yet with every move Magnus blitzed out, Hikaru could feel the position, the game, the match slipping through his grasp. 

Magnus was totally in control here, he realized with sinking dread. Why had he agreed to come to Magnus's hotel room? Was it merely to amuse his opponent after Hikaru's defeat earlier in the day? Tease him after his loss today? Assert his dominance over the board? He was on the enemy’s territory and losing the battle. 

Magnus still remained confident, even briefly glancing away from the board as though the games had grown tiresome from their predictability. Hikaru couldn’t even hold his attention, much less the position. 

He was getting hustled, he realized. Like he was an 1800-rated kid in Washington Square losing dollar after dollar.

He was tilted. 

And so, for the first time in hours, he shook Magnus’s hand, a clear sign he was admitting defeat. 

“You know,” Magnus spoke in the sudden silence that had enveloped the room. “You had Queen a4 there in the end.”

Hikaru almost physically flinched, mind racing as he recalculated. “No, because knight e-” He didn't even finish before Magnus interjected. 

“Bxe4.” A stupid mating net. A tactic so fucking elementary even seven-year-old Hikaru would have spotted. He had underestimated the extent of his tilt. 

“Jesus.” He shook his head in disgust, watching as Magnus folded up the board. What would Magnus think of him now? After he missed something so basic?

“You played well.” The words hung in the air, a polite but empty offering and both of them knew it. “Do you want another sh-”

“No, I do not.” This time it was Hikaru who interrupted. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white before turning away to get up. 

“I’m leaving now.” He said, after a brief moment of awkwardness. Magnus made no move to stand up and walk him out. His brashness surprised him, making Hikaru hesitant for a moment longer. 

“Wait.” Don't turn around, don’t turn around.

Hikaru turned around. 

Magnus opened his mouth but nothing came out for a few seconds as he seemingly struggled for words. “You played well.” He settled on.

His usual cocky demeanor now softened by the amber glow of the light. It was striking how much Magnus had transformed since the heat of the game. The cockiness lingered, manifested in the casual yet obscene sprawl of his legs beneath the desk and the finger propped under his chin as he almost appeared to challenge Hikaru with his gaze. However, there was a newfound gentleness about him, his eyes slightly hazy, his disheveled hair, and a few undone buttons on his shirt.

“Thank you.” Pleasantries. “I have to go now.” 

“Did you get invited to the London Chess Classic?” What the fuck. Hikaru was not going to disclose his next tournament before the player list was announced so Magnus would have extra time to prep for him. Did Magnus take him to be a fool? 

“I am not going to answer that.” His hand was on the doorknob now. Magnus got up and walked towards him. 

 "Relax, I was just making conversation." He almost caged Hikaru in the small entryway of the hotel room. 

Hikaru couldn't quite shake off the feeling that Magnus had an ulterior motive, but he decided to play it cool. "Well, you know how it is with these invitations," he replied, deliberately vague. "You never know until they officially announce it." 

Magnus nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response. "Fair enough," he conceded, his tone lightening. "Guess we'll both have to wait and see, won't we?"

As the tension between them eased, Hikaru couldn't help but wonder if Magnus was truly just making small talk or if there was more to his question than met the eye. Either way, he was determined to keep his upcoming plans close to his chest until the right moment. He already knew he struggled enough with his openings, he didn't need to face Magnus with fifty moves of theory memorized. 

Another moment of silence enveloped them. This whole meeting, just the two of them in Magnus’s room felt almost taboo to Hikaru. Hikaru couldn't help but imagine the scandalous reactions that would ripple through the chess world if they ever caught wind of him exiting Magnus's hotel room, instead of the usual entourage of admirers he likely attracted. This night was the only transgression Hikaru could afford. If he wanted to achieve his goal of becoming world champion, he shouldn't be playing late-night blitz with someone who was an almost certain future contender himself. This whole thing was a mistake and Hikaru felt like a spider trapped in a web.

There was an expression in Magnus’s eyes that Hikaru couldn't decipher, whether it was due to the dim lighting, the alcohol coursing through his veins, or some combination of both. 

When Magnus didn’t say anything, Hikaru turned and headed towards the door, his heart pounding with a mix of relief and an unrecognizable desire that he couldn't ignore.

When he finally inserted his keycard into his own hotel room, it was all silent. He could hear his stepfather snoring and the distant hoot of an owl in the night. Hikaru made his way to the bathroom, wincing at the sharp lights after so long in dim lighting and splashed water on his face. 

Get it together, Nakamura, he imagined his coach telling him after a painful loss. But what Hikaru had truly lost tonight, he couldn't quite grasp.

When he finally settled beneath the covers of his bed and closed his eyes, all he could see were positions he had lost that night. Each move kept replaying, a puzzle that refused to fade into the

quiet of the night. He fell asleep that night to the chess positions he had fumbled that evening. 

~

The next morning, Hikaru packed his bags, to return home, to his chessboard and training routine. 

He couldn’t keep focusing on last night’s losses, he had big tournaments coming up he needed to prepare for. This tournament had been great but bittersweet as a result of his painful loss to Magnus yesterday and the events that transpired. Hikaru was just glad to finally return to his home, where he could sink back into chess analysis. He wanted to train harder, analyze deeper, come back stronger. 

In short, he felt a renewed want to beat Magnus in London. 

~

It was always like this. 

Sit at board number one, watch as everyone else’s games start, wait in front of all the photographers and fans, as Magnus showed up late. Wait for him to drink water, adjust his pieces, tell himself he wasn’t affected by this off-board psychology. Shake hands, start the clock, watch the relentless countdown on the clock, marking the minutes to his eventual defeat. 

“He’s pretty much dominated by Magnus mentally.” In hindsight, it had been a mistake coming to the hotel bar after the round. But then again, hadn’t his entire chess career been a succession of mistakes? Mistakes that let drawn positions slip, let winning positions flip, lead him here, to a dingy bar. It seemed like his punishment for coming was the gable of spectators standing in front of the counter, laughing to themselves as they discussed the results. 

“I would be too, the way Magnus converts is nothing short of magical.” Another chimed in. Hikaru took another swig. Was it smart, drinking before a double round tomorrow? No. But was Hikaru smart? Another resounding no. 

“Didn’t Magnus have all the capitals of the world memorized by the time he was five?” And he was the type of chess player Hikaru hated, the type that made outsiders assume chess was full of geniuses. He had always been adamant that chess players were not inherently smart, just dedicated in their pursuit of mastery. Did Magnus even have to put in the work? It often seemed he came out of the womb a grandmaster. 

I had once been the rising talent, the prodigy destined to be the next world championship challenger. I had once been the one to control the board, put his opponent’s in a difficult spot mentally. I was supposed to be the next Bobby Fischer. The American hope in chess. 

Now, it was all Magnus, Magnus, Magnus. Magnus on track to overtake Vishy’s elo, he was a favorite to win the next candidates. 

“You didn’t strike me as the drinker type”. And Hikaru couldn’t escape this man—whether in his thoughts, across the chessboard, or atop the ranking lists.

Magnus was casually leaning against the bar’s counter, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. He was still dressed in his tournament outfit but with his collar loosened. 

Hikaru took another sip of his drink, the sharp tang of alcohol temporarily drowning out the thoughts that swirled in his mind.

"No," Hikaru finally replied, his voice tinged with a bitter edge. "I'm not." Let Magnus think he had broken him, broken his ego. 

Yet underneath the surface, there was this simmering rage this cold-hearted meanness in him that came out after a few drinks. The desire to fuck everything up, the desire that lead him to Magnus’ hotel room a few months ago, haunted him. Because what was the point when all he did was fuck up chess positions. He was the fucking US Champion, yet had lost all four of his games today. With another curse, not caring what Magnus thought, he downed the remainder of his drink. It was a bitter concoction, mirroring the bitterness that had taken root in his soul. 

“What the fuck do you want from me?” He stood up from his chair. He was well-aware this wasn’t the place to make a scene but in the heat of it all he couldn’t bring himself to stop. 

There was a glimmer of surprise, maybe in Magnus’s eyes. “I was just making an observation.” He answered. His stupid accent was even more apparent now, was he also drunk? 

Hikaru’s fists remained clenched at his sides but he was well aware of the eyes on him. “Let's take this outside?” And, wow, that was not what he expected to come out of his mouth. But he was known for being a fighter, on the chessboard or in the world in general.  

Magnus, the fighter he was himself, nodded. 

It was cold outside. That was all Hikaru could focus on. The wind nipped at his exposed skin, sobering him up. Now all that filled his veins was anger. Hikaru’s fists remained clenched yet Magnus was still wearing his composed yet slightly curious expression. It seemed like nothing phased this man. 

Hikaru's voice, though still charged with intensity, was now devoid of the piercing background noise from the bar. "You think you've got it all figured out, don't you?" he challenged, his words cutting through the night air. "You waltz into tournaments late, play your moves like it's second nature, and you win,” And he should stop, really, he didn’t need Magnus to see this vulnerable side of him. But he physically couldn’t shut his mouth. “But you don't know what it's like to fight for every inch, to claw your way to the top."

“I-” and Magnus was doing that dumb thing again, where he blinked fast and had his mouth open and paused before speaking. Hikaru had been indifferent to it in the past but now it only further infuriated him. 

“You don’t know, so stop acting like you do.” And Hikaru thought, thought about making it physical. Thought about shoving Magnus into the brick wall of the bar, thought about revenge. He’s making a fool of you on the board. 

“That night….” Again Magnus struggled for words. “You really made me work for it. No one else can lead in a match against me.”

God, he’s so fucking cocky. But then again, why shouldn’t he be?

But his praise struck Hikaru somewhere deep inside, took lodged right in his chest. He knew he was a phenomenal player but hearing it from Magnus Carlsen, arguably the best chess player to ever live was doing something to him.

And in the dim lighting, that lighting that almost took him back to the Night, Hikaru had a million things he wanted to say, and no way of saying them. There was a feeling in his chest that kept growing, kept pressing against his lungs, especially in moments like these. They had sparred on the chessboard countless times. But now, in the darkness of the alley, it was a different kind of confrontation, one that delved into the underlying tension that had simmered between them for so long.

"The chessboard isn't the only place we face-off, Magnus," Hikaru said, his voice still laced with frustration. "It's in everything—the rankings, the spotlight, the money.”

 Magnus regarded Hikaru with a thoughtful gaze. In that alley, away from the chessboard, the rivalry between them took on a different dimension. It was a clash of personalities, of conflicting motivations, of egos that refused to yield.

It was a moment suspended in time, away from the fans, away from the tournament organizers, away from sponsors, away from other grandmasters. Hikaru almost felt like he could do anything here, nobody would know. It was the same dangerous feeling that led him to going Magnus’s hotel room that fateful, leading him to making maybe the biggest mistake of his career so far. 

He had no excuse for what came out his mouth next. 

“Come back to my hotel room. I have a chess set.” 

~

It was always like this. 

Hikaru had been off to a great start, winning two a row. But he couldn't convert the other games, he reached winning positions but Magnus defended like stockfish or something. And then it came down to the clock and Magnus was always that fraction of a second faster than him, his intuition always a notch better. 

Finally, Hikaru had enough. 

They had been battling it out on the small desk in Hikaru's hotel room. However, it was too cramped for both chairs, so Hikaru had perched on the edge of the bed, while Magnus had took the desk chair.

Hikaru's eyes narrowed as he considered his next move. He couldn't afford another draw, or worse a loss due to time. He needed to prove himself, to seize the advantage and hold it until the end. With a sudden burst of determination, Hikaru found an idea, sacrificing a pawn for a powerful attack. His eyes remained locked on the board as he made the move, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. After a few seconds, Hikaru looked up. Magnus was leaning forward, eyes intensely locked on the board. There was a little furrow between his brows. 

Seconds ticked away on the chess clock, and Hikaru could hear his heartbeat with each passing second.

Then Magnus straightened, confidently played a move, and slammed the clock. Hikaru couldn’t help but physically react, putting his head in his hands. The move Magnus had just played was deceptively tricky, catching Hikaru off guard, and it was the one move he had failed to anticipate.

Magnus’s grip was firm as ever as Hikaru resigned. 

“I’m done.” Hikaru reached for the little plastic bags the pieces belonged to. Magnus silently handed him his pieces. The room was thick with tension, and Hikaru could feel the anger still simmering just beneath his skin. The close proximity to Magnus, mere feet away from his own bed, was playing tricks on his mind, blurring the lines between rivalry and something more intimate. It was a confusing mix of business and pleasure. 

Magnus was staring at him. “I didn’t expect you to give up so fast.” His words were always like this, razor-sharp. In that moment, Hikaru couldn't help but question his own choices. Why had he allowed himself to become entangled in this complex dance with Magnus, where the lines between rivalry and something more were constantly shifting and blurred? It was a question that lingered in the air, unanswered and impossible to ignore.

“I only gave up this one match. There will be more.” He finally replied, rolling up the cheap board. He stood up, hoping Magnus would take the hint and leave. However, Magnus stayed where he was, comfortably reclined in Hikaru’s chair. 

“I don’t understand you,” Magnus said, still staring at him. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

“I’m not.” And Hikaru didn’t want to be having this conversation, not after the disastrous chess he played, not ever.

 “Don’t you need to sleep?” He raised an eyebrow. They had more rounds bright and early tomorrow. Don’t you need to prep? It was 5+3, prep could help a bit. And he couldn’t help but add “Or does Mr. Wonder Boy not need prep?”

It didn’t make sense but Hikaru was still red hot after all the bruising his ego got today and maybe, just maybe wanted to share the pain. 

And Magnus was still reclined in his chair, like they were in his hotel room. And Hikaru was still standing above him, staring into his eyes, feeling their heights flipped for the first time. 

“I can’t think about chess right now.” Magnus said softly, his voice carrying a vulnerability that Hikaru had never heard before. It was a departure from their usual banter, a glimpse into a side of Magnus that had remained hidden.

The moment was so still, so quiet. So unlike them, so unlike their chess. Magnus was looking at him cockily, as if there was a challenge hidden under his eyelashes, and Hikaru already had made more mistakes than he could count in one night so what was one more?

(It was a weak excuse, even in his own head.)

So he gripped Magnus’s hair and yanked him forward into a kiss. And he was fucking everything up, all those hours spent training, all the money that his family and federation poured into him, but it felt so right . 

Magnus almost kissed like his chess, lazily but with an undercurrent of aggressiveness. It felt wrong almost, the way he pulled Hikaru into him. Yet Hikaru couldn’t resist the temptation to kiss those lips, those lips had said “good game” to him after countless losses, those lips that had said the names of millions of chess variations, those lips that belonged to the man Hikaru’s career was based on beating.

He had an arm around Hikaru’s waist, pulling him into his chest. Suddenly he broke away from the kiss, “Wait aren't you-” 

“Huh?” Hikaru questioned. He didn’t want them to stop. If they stopped Hikaru might just run out of the room to prevent him from fucking up this badly. 

“Your ring?” And maybe it was the remnants of alcohol in his brain that muddled his thoughts because Hikaru had to think for a few seconds before realizing.

“Oh. Oh no, it's not, it's not uhm, that it's my US Champion ring.” And he pulled it off of his ring finger and showed it. The words ‘US Chess Champion’ were engraved on the gold and they sparkled in the light.

Magnus stared at the ring, an expression Hikaru couldn’t describe in his eyes. He turned back to Hikaru and almost laughed to himself. “Can’t believe I have the US champion in my bed, then.” 

And what the-

But he was kissing Hikaru again, pulling him closer, hands heavy at his hips. 

"You know," Hikaru murmured between breathless gasps, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to Magnus's. He allowed their kiss to linger for a moment longer before pulling away slightly, his voice tinged with playful satisfaction. "Technically, it's my bed."
 

“You never stop talking, huh?” And Hikaru’s back was pressed against the mattress, hands still in Magnus’ hair. He yanked and almost relished in the soft groan of pain. Revenge. It was a sweet feeling. 

It felt so taboo, hands Hikaru had shaken dozens of times, snaked up his body. An almost panicked feeling arose in his chest, one that even Magnus kissing down his neck couldn’t quite quell. 

“Are you drunk?” He whispered into the darkness of the night. He was not going to be another one of Magnus’s trophy prizes, a whore he’d fuck after a victory and then forgot about. 

“No, are you?” He was too close, not close enough. Hikaru could feel his breath on the side of his neck, feel his heart beating under his hand. 

“No.” And that was all Magnus needed to resume kissing down his neck. 

One day I will beat you, Hikaru thought as Magnus undid his belt buckle. This is just a one time thing. 

~

When his phone's alarm clock rang the next morning, Hikaru immediately panicked. Something didn’t feel right. 

Someone groaned into his neck, an arm snaking around his waist to pull him back. He felt a head burrow between his shoulder blades.  

“Turn it off.” 

No. This couldn’t be happening. 

Any lingering remnants of sleep quickly devolved as he jumped out of bed. 

“Get up.” He said, not looking back at Magnus. Where was his goddamn shirt??

Another groan came from behind him and a head finally popped out from under the covers. Magnus, hair a mess and red-lined eyes squinted at him. 

“Ah fuck I slept in my contacts.” He winced, rubbing at his eyes. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either. 

Hikaru continued to ignore him, pulling on his pants. He had seen all the messages from his second asking him if he’d seen the lines he sent, what he thought, why wasn’t he responding-

Fuck, this was not a great start to his second tournament day. 

Magnus was watching him rummage in his suitcase looking for his formal shirt. He was still in his pajamas, eyes still bleary. 

“Don’t you have to leave?” And as soon as Hikaru spoke he regretted it. Whatever happened last night between them stayed in last night, today he could only see Magnus as a rival. Someone he shouldn’t be helping. 

But he looked so unlike the Magnus he was used to seeing, hair unbrushed, shirt left open to the marks Hikaru had left. 

(Every tooth he sunk into Magnus’s neck, every bruise he sucked, it was his own form of revenge.)

“ Yeah, I should be.” And he was grabbing his clothes and heading out the door. He paused in the doorway, looking back at him with an almost smirk on his face.

“It would be funny if anyone saw me leave your hotel room.” 

And he pulled the door open and left. 

Hikaru paused the buttoning of his own shirt, fingers paused over the steady thump of his heart. He needed to get it together before the round started. Was this whole thing a tactic by Magnus to mess his tournament up? It sounded fanatic, even in Hikaru’s own head but it was almost the exact type of thing Magnus Carlsen would do. “I’m not known to be particularly merciful.” He had scoffed when he first watched the interview, it was just another catchy sound bite, something for the fans. But the longer their thing went on, the more Hikaru was inclined to believe him. 

The unanswered messages from his second continued to taunt him, a reminder of the outside world that he needed to return to, even as the magnetic pull of Magnus still lingered in the room.

As he typed out a response to his second, explaining his temporary absence, Hikaru couldn't help but glance back at the disheveled bed. Magnus had managed to disrupt not just Hikaru's game but also his room.

Less than an hour later, Hikaru was walking into the tournament hall and finding his board. Magnus, as usual playing board one, met his eyes in a silent acknowledgment. But Hikaru couldn’t think about him right now, he had a game to play. 

~

September 8th, 2013

The next time Hikaru met Magnus, he was a world champion challenger. 

Sinqufield Cup, practically the last hope for American chess after USCF nearly went bankrupt. The anticipation surrounding the tournament was palpable, with the world's top-ranked players, Magnus Carlsen and Levon Aronian, facing off against the United States' finest, Hikaru himself and Gata Kamsky.

There was the usual buzz of any tournament Magnus played in, added the fact this was his last tournament before Chennai. Everyone was watching with bated breath to see how he would manage to keep his opening preparation for the match secret. 

Every time Hikaru saw Magnus in passing, checking into a hotel lobby, being shown the playing hall by an arbiter, attending stupid opening ceremonies, he thought back to their nights together. Plural. What had been one mistake had turned into two. 

(“Blunders come in pairs,” His stepfather always told him after analyzing a painful loss. “Your head’s not right, you need to regroup, get your head back in the game.” Hikaru just didn’t realize that was true off the board as well.)

And was this the fate he was destined to, a cruel mockery by God for thinking he could keep his career alive against the best chess player currently, maybe ever and also have him in whatever way? 

The night before the tournament started, these thoughts were swirling around his head instead of opening variations. His second, Kris Littlejohn looked worried, from where he was sitting opposite of him at a desk. And why shouldn't he be, his pay largely depended on Hikaru winning things. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling well?” He asked Hikaru for the second time that night. “You don’t look so good.” And he was honest with his thoughts, the type of second Hikaru wanted and was happy to have. 

 Hikaru waved off the concern. “Just tired. I think I know these lines pretty well, I might head to bed early tonight.” He wasn't particularly worried about his upcoming match against Levon. Hikaru felt he understood Levon's style and approach to chess, and he was confident in his preparation.

Kris, ever the dedicated second, continued to offer support and guidance. “If you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out. You've got this," he reassured him, concern evident in his eyes.

And Hikaru appreciated him, he really did. He couldn’t let his team who always worked so hard for him down. So he dutifully climbed into bed and did his best to fall asleep. 

~

A win to start the tournament was always nice. He had never been in any trouble during the game and was able to put Levon under enough pressure until he cracked. The old Hikaru’s back, one commentator put it. 

And as Hikaru was signing his scoresheet and passing it to Levon he made eye contact with Magnus who was in a clearly winning positon against Kamsky. As he made eye contact with Magnus, a silent understanding passed between them. It was a look that fueled Hikaru's determination to return to his hotel room and dive into his openings file, especially the ones designed to face Magnus.

He had black the first game and he made it a point not to be early. It was a calculated move, a way to give Magnus Carlsen a taste of his own medicine, making him wonder where Hikaru might be. As Hikaru finally left his hotel room to go to the tournament hall, Kris gave him a small, knowing smile, a subtle acknowledgment that Kris understood Hikaru's off-the-board strategy. The psychological game often went hand in hand with the battle on the chessboard.

And his secret tactic. Just before he entered the hall he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket. It had been a pointless thing he thought of while he was tossing and turning last night. Just something to throw Magnus off. He knew that in the world of competitive chess, every edge, whether psychological or strategic, could make a difference.

But the actual game was only mildly interesting, an exchange sack that turned into an interesting queen and rook vs queen and bishop endgame. He had slight chances, but when you left the computer for a while it eventually came back to a 0.0 evaluation. 

“I had maybe some chances but overall it was a solid game.” He told reporters after the game. He had taken the glasses off, feeling silly now that Magnus wasn’t here. He had disappeared immediately after the game, ignoring the press. Hikaru had heard an arbiter grumble about it, but they both knew better than to touch the precious golden boy of chess, the next world champion. The thought made Hikaru sick. 

But when he came back into his hotel room, it was hard to stop himself from sinking into despair. His opening preparation had been top-knotch, his play excellent. But Magnus was impossible to beat, and it seemed like he would forever be. But he had one more shot. And he had white. 

~

September 13, 2013

A horrible game. Hikaru didn’t know what came over him, he had black against Levon he was just supposed to be solid. But in certain positions he had underestimated the attack, rolling ahead with his own plans. There had been chances, chances to head back to equality but on further analysis were only fleeting dreams. 

After defending a lost endgame for several moves, he couldn’t take it and resigned. Levon was the good sport he usually was and they analyzed together for a few moves. But all Hikaru could think about was the scoring of the tournament. Magnus had won his game only a few minutes ago and as usual left the playing hall right away. And Hikaru knew his chances of winning the tournament were gone, not with the way Magnus was winning these easy games. 

And he had to be practical, forget his dreams of beating him, and stop the bleeding. Collect the money from second place. It was a fine result, the best maybe possible. 

The next day when he faced the Berlin he felt nothing at all. But it was fine, there would be more games, more chances. 

At the closing ceremony, Rex Sinquefield himself came up to congratulate Hikaru. But the mood was bittersweet, it would have attracted more sponsors for American chess if Hikaru had won, a fact he had been uncomfortably aware of coming into the tournament. 

Months later, he posted a funny tweet as a spur-of the moment thing after beating Magnus online. 

Hikaru Nakamura 

@GMHikaru

 Starting to realize that I am the only person who is going to be able to stop Sauron in the context of chess history.

He got plenty of replies, Anish as always in the comments clowning on him but Magnus himself didn’t even interact with the tweet. Good. Hikaru was glad. 

~

February 1st, 2014

Everything was going so well, so according to plan. He had gotten a comfortable position out of the opening in which he had some chances to press. He eventually had a huge kingside attack. He could see Magnus twirling a pawn more aggressively, shoulders hunched after he played Qg4, attack raging. He could tell Magnus had played the opening too aggressively, focusing on his own attack on the king while letting Hikaru pawn-storm. He had a winning position against the world champion but he was running out of time, with only minutes left on the clock to convert this position. 

However, a strange feeling came over him. 

He became hyper-aware of the spectators watching, whispering to each other. Other players were walking by and discreetly glancing at the board. It wasn’t often you got to see the World Champion futilely trying to hold a position together. 

So many things win. The moves were blurring together in his head, lines colliding with each other as positions flashed through his head. All the while his clock still steadily ticked down. Just move, Nakamura. 

His mind wandered to the press conference after, what he’d say, what the reporters would ask. What Magnus would say. The articles that would be published. Maybe he would be on the front cover of New In Chess again-

No, he had to focus. 

Amidst the mounting tension and the weight of the spectators' collective gaze, Hikaru knew he couldn't afford to falter. Every move counted, and the pressure of the moment pressed down on him. His focus needed to be on the board, on the pieces, on finding the best moves to capitalize on his position. With determination, he took a deep breath, silencing the chaos in his mind. The seconds on his clock ticked away relentlessly, but Hikaru honed his concentration. He surveyed the board one last time, analyzing the position with a clear mind. And then, with a surge of resolve, he made his move.

d6. A simple pawn push, one square closer to promotion. Yet within seconds he realized he messed up. Magnus tilted his head back, hands letting the pawn fall. In a minute he captured the pawn with his knight and moved his rook over. And Hikaru had underestimated the rook move, had only now realized how exposed his king was along the first ranks. And it was flashback after flashback, he always did this, he always messed up against Magnus, and he could feel his heart pounding in his throat and he couldn’t calm down.

And after that he couldn't get his head back into the game, making his moves on autopilot. He had messed it up, he had messed it up, he had messed it up-

Get your back in the game, Nakamura.

But he couldn’t. From the corner of his eye he could see the official photographer take a picture and Hikaru just wanted to leave, leave the board, leave Magnus. 

And so, in a moment of desperation, he sacrificed the exchange, hoping to complicate the position and create some chances. But Magnus, unfazed by the sacrifice, calmly consolidated his advantage, leaving Hikaru with a sinking feeling of resignation. It was always like this, Hikaru thought once again, as he played the rest of the game in a blur, like it was blitz. The cycle repeated itself, and once again, Magnus had outmaneuvered him. All he could do was watch as his chances slipped away.

 All the other players made mistakes, had bad games. Never Magnus. 

And afterward he dodged reporters and fans unlike, staying far away from the commentary booth as he left the venue. Let everyone think he was being a bad sport, they already had that image of him in their heads, he thought bitterly. He didn’t have the energy to care about his image. 

When he finally reached the solitude of his hotel room, the weight of his loss pressed down on him. With a sharp, frustrated motion, he tore off his suit jacket and sank to the floor. His phone buzzed incessantly in his pocket, notifications from coaches and seconds flooding in, all asking him for explanations and analysis. But in the aftermath of another defeat at Magnus's hands, he couldn't bring himself to think about it any longer. The game was playing in the background of his mind as he changed and splashed water on his face. He should change, eat, try to relax for a few hours before preparing for tomorrow’s game. Healthy habits, as his coach called them.

But in the pattern of self-destruction that he always subjected himself to, he opened up the broadcast. It loaded just as the commentators were mentioning him

“And he's coming over and Hikaru is not here, this is understandable of course.” The camera switched to a wider shot and there was a thud as Magnus knocked over a chair. The commentator was asking something, but all Hikaru could focus on was Magnus’s smug grin. 

“And well first of all Magnus, Peter Leko said something very interesting. He said Nakamura was winning and it happens maybe once or twice a year that he misses such chances and its always against you. Why do you think so?”

And Hikaru should stop, the wounds were still fresh. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen.

Magnus put his hand up and shrugged. “He doesn’t always get chances like this against me.” He’s so fucking cocky.

“I played pretty badly, I sort of underestimated his attack and he made all the right moves,-” And it was beautiful to hear him degrade himself on television, see the pain in his eyes and the nonchalentless in his voice that didn’t quite convince anyone he was unphased by this game.

Magnus propped one arm over the chair and continued talking about the game, but Hikaru wasn't really listening. His mind was busy picking apart the details—Magnus's open-mouthed breathing and slow blinking. It made him look dumb, and it irritated Hikaru.

And they were analyzing and Magnus made a small joke that everyone laughed too hard at because why shouldn’t they he was the golden world champion-

And he was spirling again. This time he shut off his phone before throwing it on the bed.

He needed a walk.

~

“It’s a bit of a freak occurrence that he doesn’t win such a position.” He mumbled to himself. He had found a random lake, again thankful that chess players were not as famous as say footballers. He kicked a stone and watched the water ripple. 

The lake's placid surface absorbed Hikaru's muttered words, offering no judgment, no commentary. It was a stark contrast to the world he usually inhabited—a world of intense scrutiny, relentless analysis, and expectations. As he stared at the dark expanse of the lake, Hikaru's mind continued to grapple with the puzzle of his own psychology. He knew he was a fierce competitor, driven by a burning desire to succeed. Yet, when it came to Magnus, that desire sometimes turned into a self-imposed pressure that weighed him down.

As he meandered along the shore, his thoughts continued to churn. The memory of the game against Magnus replayed in his mind, each move dissected and analyzed. He knew where he had erred, where he had missed opportunities. The frustration of squandering a winning position gnawed at him, intensified by the knowledge that such mistakes seemed to occur primarily when he faced Magnus.

 Hikaru's footsteps crunched on the gravel path, a rhythmic counterpoint to the thoughts racing through his mind. He pondered the complexities of chess psychology, the weight of expectations, and the persistent question of why he struggled to convert against Magnus when it mattered most. 

The surroundings gradually grew darker as evening descended. A chill settled in the air, and the tranquil surface of the lake reflected the deepening twilight. Hikaru found a secluded bench, where he could sit in contemplation, away from the prying eyes and endless analysis. He sighed, letting the tension in his shoulders ease as he gazed out at the serene expanse of water. The night held a soothing calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil that often raged within him during high-stakes chess battles.

 "What am I missing?" Hikaru whispered to himself, more a rhetorical question than a plea for answers. He knew there was no easy solution, no magic bullet to overcome the mental hurdles that Magnus seemed to present. It was a challenge he had grappled with for years, one that had shaped his career and driven his ambition. The gentle lapping of water against the shore provided no response, but in its quiet, Hikaru found a momentary respite from the relentless pressure of the chess world.

 As he sat there, enveloped in the tranquility of the night, he knew that he would continue to chase his elusive goal of becoming world champion, there was no other option. Just because he had another bad day didn’t mean anything. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of stillness, a pause in the relentless pursuit of chess perfection, and a chance to reflect on the intricate web of moves and emotions that defined his tumultuous relationship with Magnus.

The night air was cool against his skin, a soothing contrast to the heat of competition. Hikaru had always thrived on the intensity of chess, the thrill of outwitting his opponents, the satisfaction of crafting the perfect plan. But against Magnus, it often felt like an uphill battle, a relentless struggle against a rival who seemed to hold some intangible advantage. In the distance, the lights of a nearby town twinkled, a reminder of the world beyond the chessboard. Hikaru knew he couldn't escape the demands and expectations of his career, nor did he want to. Chess was his passion, his calling, and the pursuit of greatness was etched into his very being. With a deep breath, he finally stood up from the bench, his decision clear. He would return to his hotel room, review the game once more, and prepare for the challenges that lay ahead.

~

July 12th, 2016 

“Why are you ignoring me?” Magnus's voice broke through the bustling noise of the hotel lobby. Hikaru turned around to find the world champion standing there, dressed in his usual casual attire—sports t-shirt and shorts—with his trademark unruly hair.

Hikaru gestured to the hotel lobby around them. “How am I ignoring you?” The lobby was filled with chess players who came for the open event and event organizers directing them. They really shouldn’t be doing this here.

Magnus frowned, clearly frustrated by Hikaru's response. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "You know what I mean. You've been avoiding me ever since that last game." For two years, went unspoken. For two years Hikaru had avoided in after games, in hotels, at dinner. And the results spoke, he had crossed 2800 and reached his peak elo. 

Hikaru's gaze flickered around the lobby once more, realizing that people were starting to pay attention to their exchange. He sighed inwardly, then motioned for Magnus to follow him to a quieter corner of the lobby, away from prying eyes.

“What happened between us was a one-time thing, I told you this.” I can’t keep doing, I have to play you in a few days. 

Magnus paused, again seeming to struggle with his words. “Your game against Caruana last year was great.” And it was shitty timing really, because Hikaru hadn’t got re-invited for Norway chess that year despite tying for second, but Magnus didn’t know that yet. 

And he opened his mouth but Magnus interrupted him again. 

“I wanted to tell you at Olympiad but you kept running away from me.” And the way he said it so plainly, like he had seen right through Hikaru, to his soul, to his motives irked Hikaru. 

“Running away from you? We’re competitors. This isn’t 2010.” I actually had a chance at the title now. But they don’t talk about Moscow-

“What were you thinking playing Nxg3 against Karjakin?” And what the fuck, did Magnus lack common sense?

“Look.” Hikaru fought to keep his quiet, aware they were still in a public space. “Did you just come here to remind me of my losses?” And that loss had been particularly hard for him, because he knew Magnus would be keeping up with the candidates. And when his head hit the pillow each night he dreamed of facing him in the World Championship.

“But why did you ignore me in Norway?” And it was eleven months ago, but the memories still were fresh in both of their heads apparently. Remembered Magnus cornering in the bathroom stall before the first round, fingers untucking his dress shirt. Remembered the knock on the door of the stall, someone jiggling the lock before leaving. Remembered how it had jolted him to his senses, remembered how he had pushed Magnus off. How he ignored him for the rest of the tournament.

Hikaru couldn’t help but remember too much, it was the chess player in him.

“We can’t do this, Magnus. I shouldn’t have let what happened in Norway happen.” Hikaru's words lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the boundaries they needed to maintain. 

And there was a tinge of hurt in his eyes as Magnus nodded. “Fine.”

~

That night as Hikaru lay in bed he thought for the first time about London. How Magnus had squeezed his waist and pulled his hips back. The sounds he had made against his neck, the bites they had both left. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, he reached under the covers. 

~

July 13th, 2016

Even our drinks are different , Hikaru thought as he reached for his Red Bull and strategically positioned it, ensuring the cameras captured the logo perfectly. Meanwhile, Magnus, as usual, had his trusty Norwegian water bottle. It almost felt like a metaphor for their rivalry.

But he needed to concentrate; this was his chance to finally defeat Magnus, and he couldn't afford to be distracted by their history. Their table was predictably placed front and center, a fitting spot for Magnus, considering his stature in the chess world. Their national flags stood beside them, adorned with small white bows, a subtle nod to the ever-present undercurrent of politics that seemed to captivate the fans. 

As they exchanged handshakes, Hikaru made sure his grip was firm, not just for the cameras but as a sign of mutual respect. He had prepared extensively for this game and felt confident in his form. 

e4 c5, Ne2. 

Magnus had been favoring this trendy Sicilian chameleon line lately, but Hikaru was well-prepared. He swiftly made his opening moves, steadily gaining an advantage on the clock. 

At move twenty, Magnus surprised Hikaru with a rapid move. Hikaru furrowed his brow and lowered his head, carefully evaluating the situation. He had anticipated either e5 or exd5, common moves in this opening. However, Magnus's confident pawn push to g6, weakening his king but seemingly unfazed by the potential threat, threw Hikaru off balance. He took a sip of his Red Bull, hoping to clear his mind before recalculating.Twenty minutes later he was positive he could ignore it. 

They continued their game, Hikaru attacking in the center, bringing his rooks in as Magnus desperately tried to expose his king. The way he almost ignored Hikaru’s attack brewing in the center was so on-brand of him, his cocky personality that it almost elicited a slight smile from Hikaru. 

 But Hikaru just calmly rerouted his knight into the center of the board, confident in his own plans. And Magnus took his first think of the game. Hikaru noticed the change in Magnus's demeanor; he was no longer smiling. Magnus's eyes scrutinized the chessboard, deep in thought and calculation. Hikaru was confident that Magnus had nothing. Memories of Zurich 2014 flashed in his mind, a reminder of how he had let victory slip through his fingers.

Focus . 

He would have relaxed more against other players but knew Magnus would try to grind him out in an endgame. 

Bb2. An on brand move from Magnus, trying to trade down into said endgame. But Hikaru had seen all this and knew he had to be almost decisively better. So he confidently let the trade happen and even traded rooks. His queen was simply too well-placed and too powerful. 

The next time Magnus stopped for a long think, shoulders hunched over and displeasure clear on his face, Hikaru looked up from the board. Anish and Wei Yi were watching their game, Anish catching his eye and giving him a small smile. 

But Hikaru couldn’t calm down, he noticed after he played exf4. He internally kicked himself, he had just allowed white a little bit of counterplay.

h6 would have won on the spot what am I doing.

They continued to maneuver their pieces, Hikaru giving a few checks so move forty would come faster. And indeed when Magnus resigned, not looking Hikaru in the eye, Hikaru could see at least four different mate in a couple of moves. 

“I feel good of course, it feels good to win a nice game and outplay him in these complications.” He told a chess.com reporter after the game. He could see Magnus being interviewed by the usual Norwegian TV station and the thought of Magnus having to face his people after a brutal loss brought a smile to Hikaru’s face. “So it's very nice, but again it's just one game, it doesn’t mean that much in the bigger scheme of things.” Because even after he won, Hikaru was keeping his cards close to his chest. He hoped Magnus saw this interview, felt the indifferenetess in his words. He wouldn’t celebrate, this was just the start of his many victories to come he was sure.

“ I’m not merciful to my opponents.” Magnus had said after winning another world title. 

Well , thought Hikaru, neither am I. 

When he was faced with Magnus at the post-game analysis, he couldn’t help but feel gleeful. Magnus looked so crushed, exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders. 

“I thought coming out of the opening I had a decent advantage, one I could work with for a long time. But then I thought I should…” He paused, staring off to the side. Hikaru glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, “Punish him so I went for this sort of outlandish idea of going h4 and then g5. And I sort of missed that he could play e6. From then on he did quite well.” 

Hikaru's lips curled into a subtle but victorious smile as he watched Magnus fumbling with the clip-on microphone, his discomfort palpable. It was a rare sight to witness Magnus squirming in the aftermath of a game, and Hikaru couldn't help but relish the moment. The commentator's analysis buzzed in the background, but Hikaru was in no hurry to break the silence. He knew this was an opportunity to savor – a moment when Magnus, the reigning champion and chess prodigy, had faltered, and Hikaru had seized the upper hand. It was a sweet victory, not just on the chessboard but also in the psychological duel that often accompanied their encounters.

As they both got up to leave, Hikaru couldn't stop himself from savoring the moment just a bit longer. He extended a hand towards Magnus, a gesture of respect that seemed to catch him off guard. Magnus hesitated for a moment before accepting the handshake. 

He was so pretty like this, Hikaru realized with sinking dread. The way he never quite met Hikaru’s eyes, hands always tugging with something, head-down turned. He no doubt was going over the game in his head again, beating himself up for all the moves he missed. 

It was doing something to him.

And he knew he had just pushed Magnus away, called off whatever they were, but he knew Magnus would bend to his will, especially right now. 

So he pulled the sleeve of Magnus’s suit jacket, and tilted his head towards the door. 

~

"I saw e6, I did," Magnus mumbled, his brown eyes captivating in the soft glow of yet another hotel room. His shirt was unbuttoned down the middle of his chest, by whom Hikaru didn't know. All he knew was that he could see the jerky rise and fall of Magnus's chest as he bit his lip and struggled with words.

Magnus looked impossibly hot in this vulnerable state, on his knees, gazing up at Hikaru with dazed eyes. It was as if one of Hikaru's many fantasies had come to life. He had been so pliant, so willing to comply, as if this loss had taken all the bite out of his personality. He had followed Hikaru back to his hotel room, sinking to his knees when Hikaru tugged on his hair. It was clear that the World Champion wasn't accustomed to playing this role, but he executed it exceptionally well. “I just-”

And Hikaru was pulling him forward into a kiss, the reward Hikaru deserved for his victory. He could tell Magnus was getting agitated, so he reached for his belt buckle. 

“What were you calculating?” And it was so hot, to do analysis like this, like they were sitting across from each other after a game and from the broken sound Magnus let out he found it the same. The soft sounds he let out were addicting, he knew they would haunt him on their many nights apart. 

“I thought-” And his voice broke as his head ducked down. “I don’t know. My plan was all about getting f5 in and you stopped that.” His voice trailed off in a whisper. 

“All this wouldn't have happened if you chose to play e5 instead of f3, huh? But you had to be aggressive, and look where it led.” The sting of not playing the best engine move, a feeling Hikaru knew all too well. He couldn’t help but share the pain. 

“I know.” And Hikaru was pushing his pants down, one hand still fisted in Magnus’s hair, the other one on his throat as he guided his mouth down. 

“Wait.” And Hikaru almost groaned. He could feel this hot breath on his cock. “I-I just wanted to say I really liked your move d5.” 

And now Hikaru was the one biting his lip. “Thank you.” And he was pushing into his mouth, letting out a sigh. Magnus, whose hands had stayed at his side until now, reached down to touch himself but Hikaru was quicker, placing his hands behind his back.

“Keep them there.” He enunciated his words with a sharp thrust.

It was a sight to see, the world champion gagging around his cock, shirt hanging open and hands behind his back. His lips were bitten and red, swollen almost. 

“Wha-?” He tried to say but his voice cut off into a low whine as Hikaru tilted his head up, thumb pressing down on his adam’s apple. It was exhilarating, seeing Magnus fall apart like this, his cheeks red and eyes closed with shame. Even better than watching his position fall apart a few hours ago. 

As he continued to thrust, his gaze landed on the U.S. Champion ring adorning the hand nestled within Magnus’s hair. You only won that because Magnus couldn’t play.

And it was a cruel thought, a thought that made him want to scream. 

But who's on his knees for whom, another part of his brain whispered. 

“You’re nothing without your elo.” He found himself saying, the words laced with both pain and pleasure as memories of their shared history flooded his mind.

 Magnus's cheeks flushed crimson, a mixture of embarrassment and desire painting his expression. He remained silent, making no attempt to refute the words. The unspoken tension between them hung in the air, a reminder of the complex emotions that had defined their relationship.

 “The world champion sucking off just another 2700 player.” And it felt good, too good, to finally hurt Magnus back when he was so vulnerable like this. It hurt him too, to degrade his own abilities like this but the sight made up for it. 

And Magnus’s cheeks were so red, with embarrassment or want Hikaru couldn’t tell. He didn’t make any motion to deny the words, hips jerking against air.

Hikaru wasn’t gentle with him, taking what he needed. Magnus was beautifully pliant, for once no snarky remarks were coming out of his mouth. It was intoxicating, the way his mouth was so loose and open for Hikaru to use, keeping his hands behind his back like a good boy. 

“You would let me do anything to you, huh?” And wow, he did not mean to say that aloud but the whine Magnus let out, eyes opening to stare at him, almost begging him, was well worth it. Hikaru slowly clenched his hand around Magnus’s throat, careful not to squeeze too hard. He had never done this before but Magnus seemed it, the way his throat contracted tight around his cock. Hikaru let go after a few seconds, watched the way he gasped for air, chest heaving but left his hand on his throat as a reminder. 

Magnus didn’t say anything, just bobbled his head and sucked harder. 

He didn’t warn Magnus as he came down his throat, thighs clenched tight around his head. Magnus swallowed it all.

When he pulled back, eyes again looking down as if ashamed, Hikaru moved his finger from his throat to his jaw, tilting his head up. 

Fuck. 

His lips were red and shiny, come glistening under the light. Hikaru’s come. On his lips. Fuck.

He wanted to take a picture of this moment, engrave it in his mind. Magnus wasn’t like this for anyone but him. 

It took him a minute to realize Magnus was saying something.

“Please.” And he was nestling between his thighs, hips twitching against air. He sounded like absolute sin, voice rough and fucked out. 

However, Hikaru wanted to be mean. 

“Do you deserve it?” His fingers cruelly stroked his jaw, feeling his heated skin. Maybe it was the lighting, but his eyes looked more watery than usual. “After the game you played today?” 

And he could see the hurt in his eyes. “I-” And he trailed off, mouth open and panting up at Hikaru as if he could change his mind. 

“It hurts.” And his arms were twitching behind his back but he was being good for Hikaru, not touching. 

“Do you deserve it?” Hikaru repeated, hands stroking his cheek cruelly. It was so much fun to torture him. 

Another soft whimper escaped his trembling lips. “No. No I don’t.”

And Hikaru kissed him, felt the way he gasped into it, body still so tensed before leaning back. 

As Magnus got up from the floor, he struggled to regain his composure, his vulnerability still apparent in the lingering moisture on his cheeks. Magnus hesitated for a moment, seemingly torn between leaving and staying. His gaze held a flicker of hope, as if he yearned for something more from Hikaru, something beyond this twisted dance of power and submission. 

But before anything else could transpire, Hikaru's mask of cruelty returned, and he repeated firmly, "You should leave now." His voice held a hint of dismissal. 

Magnus turned away and made his way to the door. As he stepped into the world outside, Hikaru couldn't help but wonder if he was driving away something precious, or if this was the only way he knew how to keep control in his life.

~

2018

“I haven’t watched the lord of the rings but if I had, and Nakamura had been a better chess player, I might have been more insulted.” 

Hikaru wasn’t sure how he ended up here, ending up reading this random Magnus interview on ChessBase but he was now regretting it. Magnus had been asked about his Sauron comment, something Hikaru had tweeted when he was drunk then forgot about it because it was so insignificant, of course he didn’t remember it years later but of course Magnus had to use this opportunity to take another shot at him. 

Years had passed, scoresheets and signatures accumulating, and the truth remained unchanged: Hikaru had not again triumphed against Magnus in classical chess. Many podiums and crowds later, he had never even come close. He had avoided him after drawn games and painful losses, the pain ringing too strong in his ears. Yet, despite his best efforts to move on, his mind drifted to their last night together far too many times..

It almost seemed like the gap between them was widening, as Hikaru lost to Fedoseev in the World Cup, a stupid loss, one where he had been out-played the whole game. He couldn’t even qualify for the candidates, meanwhile Magnus was out here winning everything. He would probably win the candidates if FIDE let him play. 

The competitive fire that had fueled him for so long still burned, but it had transformed into a smoldering determination. As he sat there, reading Magnus's comments, he realized that he couldn't let this bitterness define his career. He had achieved so much in the world of chess, and he was still one of the top players globally.

But Magnus was simply another level, another tier. And no matter how hard Hikaru trained, how little he slept, just chess chess chess all day he could never make the jump. 

“How much of chess is just innate skill?” People had asked him over the years. 

Hikaru pondered that question, as it had haunted him throughout his career. Was there a limit to how far one could progress through sheer effort and dedication alone? Did Magnus possess an innate talent that set him apart, something that couldn't be attained through relentless training and practice? He remembered the countless nights he had spent analyzing positions, studying openings, and analyzing endgames until the early hours of the morning. 

The sacrifices he had made, the tournaments he had won, and the battles he had fought on the chessboard – they were all a testament to his dedication. Yet, as he thought about Magnus's meteoric rise and sustained dominance, doubt crept in. Was there an intangible quality, a natural aptitude, that made Magnus the undisputed champion of the chess world? Could Hikaru ever compete?

The next time Hikaru visited home he found an old snippet of the local newspaper, a photo of young Hikaru with his gigantic scholastic trophy splashed on the front. White Plain’s Hikaru Nakamura has all the right moves to be the next World Chess Champion, was the headline. Reflecting on it now, he couldn't help but admit that his youthful optimism had perhaps been a touch naive, but at the time, he genuinely believed it was within his grasp. Now, with age and experience, he couldn't help but face the harsh reality that his prospects seemed much less promising.

As he stared at the old newspaper clipping, a bittersweet nostalgia washed over him. The young boy in the photograph had possessed a fearless determination, believing he could conquer the chess world. Now, with a more realistic perspective, Hikaru couldn't deny that the journey was far more daunting than he had ever imagined.

That night, as he slept in his childhood bed, the newspaper clipping on his nightstand, he dreamt of Magnus. 

In the dream, the chessboard stretched endlessly in every direction, its squares illuminated by an otherworldly glow. Magnus was sitting opposite of him, shirt unbuttoned and hair tousled, reminiscent of their last night together. 

"Your move, Hikaru," Magnus uttered without parting his lips, his voice echoing softly in the dreamlike expanse.

When Hikaru finally awoke, he couldn't shake the feeling that the dream had been more than just a product of his subconscious. It was a reminder that his rivalry with Magnus Carlsen went beyond the physical chessboard, it was a mix of desire, rivalry, and a strong connection that even appeared in his dreams.

I miss him, Hikaru realized with sinking dread. He missed watching his games from the sidelines, missed playing him himself, missed watching him climb podiums and accept trophies, missed him deliver snarky remarks in post-game interviews, his delivery such that you knew it came natural to him, just like everything else. 

And it was terrifying because this was exactly what he shouldn’t be feeling, what he feared feeling. Because in the world of professional chess, feelings didn’t matter, only the moves on the board did. 

And so he resolved himself, once more, to forget about Magnus and focus on his chess. 

~

He was a little bit surprised when the email hit his inbox. 

“You’ll just helping prep the Rossolimo, you can use the lines after the match ends.” Cristian explained to him over Skype. And Hikaru didn’t have any tournaments to play, the pay was good and he felt an underlying responsibility to help a fellow American. Fabi was on fire lately, merely a few elo behind Magnus. If anyone had a chance, he did. 

So he accepted. It was easy to throw himself into deep preparation, endless sidelines, a race against the clock. And he found some nice ideas, some tricky lines. He could almost delude himself into thinking that Magnus could be unprepared by these. 

It wasn’t weird at all, helping to take down a guy you sometimes fucked. They had a line between their personal and professional lives, no matter how smudged that line was. 

As London approached closer and closer, as his files grew deeper and deeper, he felt more normal with each passing day. He had been introduced to a girl by a friend, and they had hit off well. 

So he balanced a new relationship with his lines, watched as every game came and went drawn, slowly building the tension, leading to the inevitable tiebreaks that would determine the ultimate victor.

He watched, with his girl’s hair splayed on his chest in bed the tiebreaks, watched game after game as Magnus dominated, feeling flashbacks of their many games together where Magnus methodically started to control the whole board. 

3-0

And he should probably text Fabi some words of commiserations, but he couldn’t tear his eyes of press conference Magnus, in his gray suit, hair gelled up all nicely, basking in the spotlight. 

“I feel like I had a really good day at work today,” And the press laughed alongside him as usual, basking in his charm, “and everything kind of went perfectly.” 

Poor Fabi, Hikaru thought. He was in the background, in the shadows and looked calm but Hikaru knew if he was in his shoes he would be raging. 

As he continued to watch the press conference and award ceremony, seeing Magnus handed that big trophy he let himself fantasize a bit. What if that was him up, shaking the arbiter's hand and flashing a victorious smile for the cameras?

It was difficult to reconcile this smiling, confident version of Magnus with the same person who had crumbled on his knees in front of Hikaru two years ago. Time had transformed them both, the years chipping away at their facade as they both leaned more into their personas. 

Jesus , Hikaru thought, turning off his phone and reaching to plug it in, careful not to disturb his sleeping girlfriend, I need to sleep. 

~

2019

“You have everything? Your passport?” She was smiling, always a bright ray in his life. She knew so little about professional chess, yet was so supportive and never complained as Hikaru prioritized it above her. He couldn't help but feel he didn’t deserve her. The noise of the airport was loud as always in the background, and his mind felt distracted, thinking about the long travel and the difficult chess games ahead. 

“Yeah, thanks.” And she was leaning forward, expecting a kiss and Hikaru obliged briefly before turning away, mind already on the chessboard. 

~

A crushing loss, an unforgivable blunder that would haunt him for days, perhaps even weeks to come. Hikaru understood that losses were an inescapable part of his journey, but that knowledge offered little solace in this moment of defeat. Each move, each misstep, replayed in his mind incessantly, tormenting him with what-ifs and regrets.

As he reflected on the game, his thoughts inevitably turned to Magnus. It was impossible not to compare himself to the reigning world champion. It was also impossible not to think about their nights together again.

I want to see him, and perhaps this desire was even more tormenting than missing him. Hikaru couldn’t escape the man anywhere, not online, not over the board. He was inseparable from chess, which was Hikaru’s life. 

His phone suddenly rang in his pocket, the sound jolting him out of his loop of self-deprecating thoughts. With a groan, he pulled it out of his pocket. It was his girlfriend. 

What the fuck. 

And he tossed the phone onto the bed, not caring where it landed. It continued to ring and Hikaru wanted to bang his head on a wall.

He had been winning he had been winning he had been winning 

His thoughts circled back to Magnus sitting cockily at the board. He had beaten Ding today and he was probably celebrating in his hotel room. 

His hotel room which was probably within five minutes of Hikaru’s. 

Stop it.

The voice in his head told him. Magnus wasn’t capable of being comforting, not after he had just won three tournaments and a world championship match in a row. And it was a bad idea but by now Hikaru was used to making them. Blunders on and off the board. 

And the hotel receptionist must have been confused about the group booking most of the hotel because Hikaru just explained that they work for the same organization and she told him his room number. 

And as the hotel elevator lifted, Hikaru couldn’t help but repeat to himself that he would not fall apart in front of Magnus again. He hadn’t even lost to Magnus, there was no reason that Magnus needed to see this part of him. He thought about what he had told Magnus in Bilbao, just a few days before beating him. 

This needs to stop. 

Hikaru just didn’t want to be the one to stop it. Because suddenly these clandestine meetings were becoming the highlights of his tournaments, a reward for completing tournaments. 

However when one of them was fragile after a loss like this, Hikaru knew he should keep his distance. Yet he had pulled Magnus into his hotel room after, and if he saw that side of Magnus he couldn’t help but feel Magnus deserved to see the same, no matter if Hikaru wanted him to or not. 

And so when Magnus opened the hotel room door, hair damp, expression unphased like he expected Hikaru to come crawling back to him, he felt nothing at all. 

He wasn’t nice to Hikaru either, backing him against the doorframe, doorknob digging into his lower back, as he mouthed along his neck. 

“Carlsen likes to leave marks,” a commentator had said. Hikaru was realizing just how true that was. 

“Can you-” And he pushed Magnus off, not exactly knowing what he was trying to say but-

But Magnus pinned his arms behind his back, and continued to kiss down his neck. Hikaru could feel his stubble pricking against his skin and while normally he would complain he was too turned on to say a word right now. 

He was unbuttoning Hikaru’s shirt, fingers practically ripping the fabric.

“Let me d-” But Magnus just let out a growl when Hikaru tried to move his hands. “Keep them there.” And it was the exact opposite of Bilbao and Hikaru-

Hikaru was so turned on right now it wasn’t even funny. 

Then suddenly Magnus stopped sucking on his neck. 

"What is this?" he demanded, his voice dripping with anger and eyes blazing with intensity. Hikaru looked down to see a faded hickey on his chest. 

Fuck.

What was he doing?? He had a girlfriend??

“I-” and now the roles had switched as Hikaru struggled to find words.

“Answer me.” And Magnus was stepping back, hands leaving his waist, a hint of desperation in his voice. 

“It’s just-” And now Hikaru felt angry. They never had any rules when they hooked up, so who gave Magnus the right to be mad?

“Why are you so mad, huh?” And in the small entryway of the hotel room, Hikaru realized with sinking dread they were about to fight for the first time since they had started this. 

“I-” and his eyes were troubled, like he was looking at a borderline losing position. He was still standing so close to Hikaru, looking at him eye to eye yet not touching. “I just don’t like it.” 

And Hikaru didn’t like it either. 

“But what about those girls? The ones you pick up at bars in every city and fuck and leave?” He was well aware of the stories that flew around. 

“I’ll stop if you stop.” And his expression was wild, lips tight as if he were in physical pain. It was beautiful to see the world champion be the first to back down. 

“But-” They had to be realistic, they rarely saw each other, barely had a few moments of privacy together a year. 

“Please.” Magnus whispered against his neck. Hikaru could feel his eyelashes on his neck, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Oh. 

Magnus didn’t beg anyone. It was doing something to Hikaru. 

“Okay.” He found himself saying and maybe that was just his dick talking because Magnus was finally kissing him again, rubbing him through his pants. 

He let Magnus manhandle him that night, let him take what he wanted as a prize for his victory. 

After they were done, Magnus snoring, an arm possessively around Hikaru's waist even in slumber, Hikaru quietly got dressed and left. 

He was a cheater. 

~

The marks Magnus had left on his neck were just fading when he broke things off with his girlfriend “I’m just too busy.” He explained. And she was heartbroken but understood.

But as the long Floridian summer days stretched on, Hikaru found himself missing Magnus more and more. It was a yearning even clicking “next game” couldn’t diminish

Hikaru couldn't help but replay the moments they had shared—the intense battles over the board, the whispered confessions in the dead of night, the warmth of Magnus's presence that had once been so familiar. It was a yearning that transcended mere desire; it was a profound ache, a missing piece of his life that refused to be ignored.

Nothing had changed between them, except for the countless tournaments, hotel rooms, and elo points that had come and gone. They had grown older, no longer the young adults that had been in 2010, where it had all started. Yet the dynamic had been the same, Hikaru chasing Magnus on leaderboards and pleasing him behind closed doors. 

Always chasing him, he was always chasing him. 

And so Hikaru played his part, dutifully preparing lines and traps, sleeping and eating well before he went to Isle of Man and-

Blew it away. 

He had played too conservatively, too solid, resulting in an abundance of drawn games. By a cruel twist of fate, he had missed out on qualifying for the candidates by a mere half-point, another opportunity slipping through his grasp. He had ended up tied with Magnus, but they were worlds apart. Magnus was playing this tournament for money, and if he won the trophy would just gather dust in his cabinet. For Hikaru, this was the culmination of his year in chess, a make-or-break moment in a profession where every move counted.

Hikaru couldn't ignore the harsh reality that he was no longer one of the youngest contenders in the chess world, he was already in his thirties. He thought about the countless sacrifices he had made, the years of dedication and relentless pursuit of excellence in chess. Yet, despite his best efforts, he found himself falling short once again, watching as younger players surged ahead.

Afterwards, when he returned to yet another hotel room, the layout nearly identical to all the others, Hikaru finally broke down.

This wasn’t the first time in his career he considered quitting professional chess, becoming a trader, or something like that. He loved chess, truly, he just didn’t love the way it made him feel. It took and took and took and rarely gave back. 

That night, as he went to dinner with the rest of the players and sponsors, Hikaru's mind was still heavy with the weight of his recent disappointment. The prospect of continuing in a world that felt increasingly unforgiving and elusive weighed on him, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was time to reconsider his path once more.

“We’ve been thinking of launching a community streamer program.” Danny Rensch was saying. Somehow Hikaru had found himself in conversation with him. “Get a couple of guys like Andrew Tang and the brahs wider audiences. Online chess, man, it’s got so much potential.”

Hikaru nodded thoughtfully, the idea of a community streamer program piquing his interest. As much as chess had its frustrations, there was a part of him that still loved the game and wanted to see it thrive in new ways. 

"Yeah, that could be pretty cool," he replied. "Bringing in some fresh faces, giving online chess a whole new vibe, sounds like a good move. I mean, look at how streaming has blown up in other gaming communities."

Danny grinned. “Exactly! We would love to have you too, I’ve always said you would be a good commentator, a streamer isn't that different.”

Hikaru couldn't help but crack a smile at Danny's words. The idea of venturing into the world of streaming and sharing his love for chess in a new and interactive way was undeniably appealing, but he couldn't shake the uncertainty that lingered in the back of his mind. Was he simply searching for an escape from professional chess?

"Well," he paused, his smile wavering slightly, "I'll think it over."

 Danny nodded, understanding the complexity of Hikaru's decision. "It doesn't have to be a serious thing, maybe just stream some Titled Tuesdays on Twitch and do a little bit of commentary," he suggested. "Just think it over and get back to me.”

As they finished their drinks and found other people to talk to, Hikaru couldn’t help but think about the opportunity. It would be a hopefully fun and new thing, something that would be his . 

As the evening wore on, Hikaru found himself increasingly open to the idea of stepping into this new world of online chess entertainment. It might not replace his love for serious classical chess, but it could offer a refreshing change of pace and a way to share his passion with a broader audience.

Amidst the lively conversations and laughter, Hikaru's thoughts about streaming and commentary were interrupted when he spotted Magnus, laughing and accepting drinks from a pretty girl. 

Their night flashed back in his mind.

“I’ll stop if you stop.” He had whispered into his hair, hips twitching against him. 

And Hikaru could still feel his breath on his neck, his hands on his waist. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He couldn’t help but yearn for the nights that Magnus had been his. 

He observed Magnus the rest of the night, watched as the world champion stared right back, a drink in one hand, a leg splayed out on a barstool. The way he sat was always so fucking cocky. 

I need to see him.

Be alone in a room with him, feel his heartbeat under his palm, hear his fucked-out gasps as he chased what he so desperately craved, what it seemed like only Hikaru could give him. 

Share the frustrations of classical chess, share the offer he had gotten, share his thoughts. But deep down, it all felt painfully crazy and hopelessly unrealistic. After all, their jobs were based on guarding secrets from each other. 

He joined the conversations around him, participating in discussions about the upcoming candidates and who had the best shot at winning. However, no matter how hard he tried to shift his focus, the image of Magnus lingered in the background of his mind.

Does he ever think about me as much as I think about him, Hikaru thought. He couldn't help but feel a sinking dread as he considered the possibility that Magnus had moved on from their shared history, their secret encounters,

The night wore on, with laughter and chess discussions filling the air. Hikaru remained engaged in the conversations, but his mind kept drifting back to Magnus. He watched as Magnus continued to enjoy the company of the pretty girl, their interaction leaving a sour taste in Hikaru's mouth. 

A pang of jealousy welled up within him, and he couldn't help but wish he were in Magnus's place, sharing those drinks and laughs. It was a complicated mix of emotions — envy, desire, and frustration.

So when the party finally started to wind down, guests trickling out, Hikaru exchanged a wordless look at Magnus. A few minutes later Magnus was at his hotel room door, his expression a mix of uncertainty and desire. 

Without a word, Hikaru stepped aside, allowing Magnus to enter the room. The air was heavy with unspoken tension as they stood there, mere inches apart. Hikaru could feel the pull, the magnetic force that had drawn them together time and time again, despite all the reasons they shouldn't be.

 Finally, Magnus broke the silence. "Hikaru," he said, his voice low and filled with longing. Or maybe it was all in Hikaru’s head. 

Hikaru met Magnus's gaze, his heart racing as their eyes locked. It was as if the entire world had faded away, leaving just the two of them in that hotel room.

 "I've missed you," Magnus confessed, his voice a whisper. Hikaru swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. His voice was so soft, so unlike him. It was only right for Hikaru to be the same for him. 

He’s just drunk. 

"I've missed you too," he admitted, eyes looking down at the carpet. He could feel his ears burning up. Even if Magnus happened to remember this in the morning, he could hide under the guise of being drunk. 

“I keep thinking about what you told me in Bilbao.” And Magnus was tilting his jaw up, fingers trembling as they pressed against Hikaru’s cheek. 

"The one where you said, 'This needs to stop.'"

 Hikaru's heart raced as he remembered those words. "Yeah, I said that."

 "Well, what if it doesn't have to stop?" Hikaru's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected this.

 "What are you saying?" He asked, feeling the shakiness of his voice. 

Magnus stepped closer, his gaze intense. "I'm saying maybe we've both been denying something for too long. Maybe there's a way we can have both, Hikaru. Chess and... other things."

“I-” and Hikaru wanted to let go, to finally let himself have this but he couldn’t. He was violating every rule a want-to-be world champion should follow. “I don’t know. We just…” his voice trailed off in a whisper. 

“We live separate lives, Magnus.” And sure, for a couple of weeks a year they would meet up in big cities around the globe, play blitz and fuck in hotel rooms but they weren’t there for the everyday. Magus lived his life in Oslo and Hikaru lived his life in Florida and these were undeniable facts. 

But in the end, he couldn't help but think that perhaps some secrets were worth revisiting, even in the world of professional chess where they had become sworn rivals.

Magnus took a step closer, closing the already minimal distance between them. Hikaru's breath quickened as he felt Magnus's thumb gently brushing over Hikaru's lips. The touch sent shivers down his spine.

“I can’t stay away.” And he was too close, the already familiar scent of Magnus filling his nose and Hikaru couldn’t resist kissing him against the doorframe. Memories of their last encounter, of Hikaru pressed up against the doorframe as he barely held back tears from his loss filled his mind, clouding his thoughts. 

“I can’t stay away either,” Hikaru said aloud, unfamiliar with vulnerability. However, if Magnus was going to be like this, he felt he could lower his guard a bit too. “That girl was all over you.”

And he was one to talk, like he didn’t fuck his ex-girlfriend while thinking of Magnus.

“I was hoping you noticed.” His voice was so deep, his accent like usual coming out from the drinks Hikaru had seen him having earlier. “I saw you looking at me all night, I wanted you to notice.”

And fuck, that was the hottest thing Hikaru had ever heard in his thirty-one years on this planet. 

He let Magnus manhandle him again, realizing that Magnus liked control on and off the board. (except when he lost). His back was shoved against the mattress and Magnus started to undo his shirt’s buttons, this time taking his time in a slow affair of long fingers against hot skin. 

Everytime they hooked up it was different, the dynamics shifting. 

It’s like we’re updating our repertoire, Hikaru thought and almost laughed, a sound that turned into a gasp as Magnus’s hot mouth trailed down his torso. 

“Did you really not fuck anyone for eight months?” Hikaru asked, reaching out for Magnus’s hand. He let it fall between them on the bed. 

“No.” And Magnus was straddling him, making him feel small. “I promise.” 

~

“I thought you were going to make it to the candidates,” Magnus whispered into the darkness of the night when they were done.

I thought so too, Hikaru thought. But he shrugged. 

“Let’s not talk about it.” He couldn’t talk about professional chess right now, couldn’t think of the openings and strategies and the endless files he had on Magnus as a chess player. But nothing in those files, not even the most tricky lines in the most obscure openings could have prepared him for Magnus the person. The person who slept with his mouth open, who loved leaving marks, who loved soft kisses in the crooks of his neck and arms. Who always slept in, who was never properly awake until thirty minutes into the morning. Hikaru could go on and one, list all the transgressions his heart had grown fond of. 

They lay in silence for a moment, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging in the air. The world of professional chess had always been their battleground, but it had also become the barrier that kept them apart.

 "I want to see you more," Magnus finally said, his voice filled with longing. "But I don't know how." Hikaru turned to him, his eyes searching Magnus's for answers.

“I don’t know either.” He admitted. The darkness of the night stretched on, the eternal backdrops for their rendezvous.

 “Are you-” He paused, the words heavy on his tongue. “Are you going to stay?” Except for that one time, it was an unexpected agreement to never stay, to part ways before the sun rose, returning to their roles as rivals.

“I shouldn’t.” Magnus sighed, his hand reaching for Hikaru’s under the covers. “Have an early flight tomorrow.”  The reality of their lives as chess professionals loomed over them, reminding them of the world they couldn't escape. It was always like this—moments of intimacy followed by the harsh reality of their separate lives. Their worlds were defined by chess, tournaments, and competition, leaving little room for anything else. 

Distance, distance, distance. They were always so distant. 

“Okay,” Hikaru whispered because there was nothing more to be said. He watched from the bed as Magnus pulled on his clothes from the floor they had been tossed on. He watched as Magnus re-did his buttons, zipped his pants up, and tossed his suit jacket over his back. 

Before he left, Magnus cast one final glance back at Hikaru, eyes full of an emotion Hikaru couldn’t begin to describe. He wanted to call him back to bed, wrap his arms around him and never let go, define what their thing was, and answer the questions that lingered between them but for once, Hikaru Nakamura didn’t have the balls to do something. 

He watched as Magnus left the room, heard the click of the door locking, and turned over and pulled the covers over his head. 

“What a pair we are.” He found himself saying aloud to no one. “Don’t even know when we will next see each other.” He scoffed, without Magnus there to distract him, his mind re-wandered to how impractical their arrangement was. But these thoughts were nothing new and slowly but surely he was learning to live with them, to bend his life around little moments in time where he could convince himself he was something to Magnus Carlsen. 

Closing his eyes, Hikaru tried to push away the turmoil of his emotions. He couldn't deny the hold Magnus had over him, nor could he ignore the deep-seated desire that continued to draw him back into this clandestine affair. It was a complicated, messy entanglement, and he had no idea where it would lead. 

But for now, in the quiet darkness of the room, he allowed himself to indulge in the intoxicating memories of Magnus, hoping against hope that they would meet each other soon. He didn’t know when, or where, or for how long, but perhaps that was for the best. 

~

He had set up a camera on top of his laptop in his office room when he returned. He watched an OBS tutorial video and streamed first the first time, laptop overheating as he kept switching tabs between Chess.com and Twitch. 

“Someone in chat said, ‘Have you played the bong cloud?’ I don’t actually know what this is, no.”

As Hikaru continued his first streaming session, he began to get the hang of it. The viewers in his chat were patient and eager to share their knowledge (for the most part, there would always be some trolls).

 They explained that the "bong cloud" was a joke opening. Intrigued by the suggestion, Hikaru decided to give it a try. He played the bong cloud opening in his next game, and the chat exploded with excitement, names rolling on his screen faster than he could read them. 

Hikaru's streaming journey continued over the months, and he started to enjoy the interaction with his audience, seeing a few familiar names time and time again. Then the pandemic hit, and it started to become how he filled his time without tournaments

Days turned into weeks, and Hikaru's stream became more and more popular. He started engaging with viewers regularly, playing blitz games, analyzing famous grandmaster matches, and even sharing personal stories from his professional chess career. His chat flooded with questions and jokes, and he was learning to navigate the fast-paced world of online chess streaming.

As the pandemic continued to reshape the world, more people turned to online chess for entertainment and connection. Hikaru's viewership soared, and he began collaborating with famous gamers and teaching them chess. It was fun, to see the blunders and the misses, the eval bar having a heart attack on the side. 

“Chat what is this.” He said, holding back a laugh as he was doing his weekly Reddit meme review. “Oh my god you guys, oh my god.” On the screen was a picture of Hikaru and Magnus getting married, Hikaru’s face photoshopped onto a bride. He shook his head, playing into his persona. 

Chat loved to tease him about his relationship with Magnus, whether that be through copypastas flooding chat or memes overtaking his subreddit. 

Chess.com was really stepping up during the pandemic, as chess was more popular than ever now. Hikaru and Magnus’s clashes in multiple speed chess tournaments drew in large audiences, eager to see their rivalry. Hikaru was pleased that he was still a tiny bit faster with a mouse. 

The candidates resumed, and this time Hikaru didn’t find himself feeling bitter as he scrolled through the games, wishing he was the one at the board instead. Instead he provided commentary and analysis for his chat. He still felt the spark in his chest, still wanted to be world champion, but was content for the time being now that he had found his niche in the chess world. 

And as Dubai came closer and closer, he was almost glad, in a twisted way that Magnus and him hadn’t exchanged private words in over a year. He had been able to focus on himself and hone his skills without the distractions and emotions that came with their secret encounters. 

And he was a different person now, with a different career. It still stung, covering Magnus's games as a mere commentator for YouTube, when his lifelong dream had been to sit in that chair himself. But he had grown accustomed to the pain, and learned to channel it into his newfound role as a content creator.

“No chat, the questions have always been this bad, yeah they’ve always been this bad yeah.” He said as they were watching the press conference after the fifth drawn game in a row. He hadn’t wanted to cover the whole thing live but it was what his audience wanted from him, insights from a professional that other streamers couldn’t provide. But he couldn't help but wonder what Magnus was thinking in that press conference room in Dubai, a world away from his own streaming setup. 

And when he won that beautiful endgame in game six, and Hikaru had to sit down in front of a camera and praise him for his endgame skills, and surprisingly alongside the ever simmering jealousy in his stomach he was maybe just a bit proud of Magnus. It brought back painful memories, particularly of Zurich 2014, a time when they were both so young and their rivalry was in its early stages but nonetheless, Magnus was a man who played beautiful chess. 

He remembered how they used to analyze those games together, fueled by their intense desire to outdo each other. Now, Hikaru was on the sidelines, dissecting Magnus's moves as a commentator, while Magnus continued to dominate the chess world. The pain of not being the one sitting across from Magnus at the board was still there, but it had transformed into a bittersweet acceptance. And besides, one day Hikaru would return to over-the-board chess. 

 As the games in Dubai progressed, Hikaru couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. The chessboard had always been their battlefield, the place where their rivalry had thrived. But now, it was a reminder of how much had changed.

And when it became increasingly clear that Magnus was going to win pretty easily from then, Hikaru found himself opening up his Chess.com messages, wanting to say something . He closed them again after five minutes at staring at the blinking cursor. Their relationship had become more unspoken than ever. 

In the end, it had been one of his finance podcast guys that made him do it. Hikaru had taken to listening to podcasts while doing chores around the house and one person always stuck out to him for his passionate way of speech. 

“You have to listen to that voice in your head that's telling you what to do, no matter what your rational brain thinks.” While the context was financial, Hikaru couldn't help but feel that this wisdom extended far beyond monetary matters.

And so he reached out.

~

December 14th, 2021

Miami International Airport was bustling with noise, even late at night. The clatter of suitcase wheels echoed through the terminal, blending with the constant beeping of machines. Hikaru had walked these halls countless times before, his emotions ranging from the excitement of heading off to a tournament to the weariness of coming back from one. 

Tonight, the airport was exceptionally crowded, with several international flights arriving simultaneously. The cacophony of languages, the swirl of people from diverse corners of the world, all merged into a vibrant, sensory overload. It was a stark contrast to the solitude Hikaru had grown accustomed to during the pandemic. 

He had toyed with his keys in that parking lot for what felt like minutes, wondering if he should park and walk in. 

It only felt proper, right? 

With a sigh, Hikaru decided to park and head inside. He maneuvered his car into a space in the sprawling airport lot and switched off the engine. As he stepped out, the warm Miami night air enveloped him. It was a stark contrast to the sterile glow of computer screens he had grown accustomed to.

Now he was here, waiting outside customs amongst other loved ones. Families and friends gathered with colorful signs and eager smiles, their anticipation palpable. Hikaru's eyes flitted from one joyous reunion to another, his heart heavy with the realization that his own meeting would be far from conventional. He glanced at his phone, checking the flight status once more. The incoming flight from Dubai had landed, and soon the passengers would begin emerging through the customs area.

The crowd shifted and murmured around him as passengers from the arriving flight began to emerge. Hikaru's eyes were locked on the swinging doors leading from customs, his heart pounding in his chest. Every face that appeared made his pulse quicken, his breath catch, but none of them were the one he was waiting for.

And then there he was. He emerged from the gates, hair messy as usual and clothes rumpled from the long flight. He was scanning the room, mouth open with that dumb look. A sweater was messily knotted around his neck and his fingers was lazily dragging a carry-on suitcase behind him.

He hadn’t changed one bit, Hikaru realized. The sight of him brought back a flood of memories, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Hikaru watched as Magnus's gaze swept across the crowd, and their eyes finally locked. Then, as if on cue, Magnus's lips curled into a mischievous grin, and he quickened his pace, weaving through the crowd to reach Hikaru. The distance between them closed rapidly, and before Hikaru knew it, Magnus was standing right in front of him.

“You didn't have to come inside, you know.” His voice crackled as he spoke. This close Hikaru could see the lines under his eyes from the stressful few months. 

Hikaru couldn't help but smile. "Well, it wouldn't be much of a welcome if I just waited by the curb, would it?"

 Magnus's gaze softened, and he nodded appreciatively. "Fair enough." 

They stood there for a moment, amidst the hustle and bustle of the airport, just taking in each other's presence. It was as if the past years of uncertainty and distance had melted away in an instant

 Hikaru finally broke the silence. "How was the flight?" 

Magnus sighed, looking a bit weary. "Long, as usual.”

As they talked they had began walking back to the terminal doors, the Floridian humidity already seeping out, they slipped back into their chess personas, discussing the games, analyzing moves. For a brief moment, it felt like old times when they used to analyze games late into the night. Chess, the one constant in their ever-evolving relationship. 

But then, as the discussion about the games played in Dubai died, tension crept back in. Hikaru couldn't help but sense a shift in Magnus, a distance he couldn't quite place. As if the weight of their years apart was finally settling back upon them. 

Magnus cleared his throat, hands fiddling with the ridges of his suitcase. "I wanted to talk to you about something." They stopped in front of the terminal doors, surrounded by a steady stream of travelers bustling past them.

A sense of foreboding settled over Hikaru as he met Magnus's gaze. Something in Magnus's demeanor hinted at the gravity of the forthcoming conversation. Hikaru's heart sank, a heavy feeling of unease taking root within him. He braced himself for what was about to come, knowing that it might not be something he wanted to hear.

Magnus took a deep breath, his eyes searching Hikaru's for a moment before he looked outside at the towering palm trees swaying gently in the warm breeze. He continued after a second. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, especially during these past few months." 

Hikaru remained silent, his anxiety mounting with each passing second. He couldn't shake the feeling that Magnus was about to deliver news that would significantly impact their relationship, whatever it had become.

 Magnus continued, his voice tinged with something Hikaru couldn’t identify. "I've decided that I won't be defending my title again." The words hung in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. 

They were so still now, as if frozen in time, amidst the flowing tide of people who continued to part around them. Conversations and lives carried on, but in that moment, Hikaru and Magnus stood in a world of their own. 

“What?” Hikaru couldn’t stop himself from saying, pure shock running through his veins. “Why would you just give it up like that?” Who doesn’t want to be world champion?? It’s what I dream of every night. 

“I just…” His fingers were grappling with the sweater around his neck. “It’s too stressful, having to keep defending it. I don’t really enjoy classical anymore.”

And despite Hikaru knowing he shouldn’t, knowing from the fragile look in Magnus’s eyes that brought him back to shared nights, he couldn’t help but raise his voice, words sharp. 

“You think you’re so much better than everyone else, huh?” 

“What?” And Magnus looked genuinely shocked, because everyone was always so nice to him, the golden boy of chess. 

“You think you don’t even need to defend your title? You're just so much better than everyone else?” His ears were ringing, and he could see strangers cast judgmental stares in their direction but he couldn’t stop. 

Magnus scoffed and looked away. He was mad, Hikaru could tell by the way he clenched his neck and shoulders. “You’re no better than the media!”

“What’s that even supposed to mean, Magnus?” Hikaru asked exasperatedly. He was sick of this, sick of the games they played off the board. 

“Do you really just see me as the world champion?” He was staring into his eyes, fury clear in his pupils. “I’m more than just the world champion?” 

“‘Just’ the world champion? Do you even hear yourself right now, Magnus? Are you so out of touch with reality? Other super GM’s would kill for the title.”

“This is my decision to make, Hikaru. Aren’t you glad you will finally get a shot at the title now?” His words were dripping with venom and he was closing in on Hikaru, making him feel small. And Hikaru hated this, hated how they were fighting in an airport at one in the morning but now that he started he couldn’t stop, all the words he had swallowed over the years bubbling up in his throat. 

“I don’t want your pity, don’t want the title you just threw away.” His words ended in a whisper, throat closing in on him. “If you must know, I helped Fabi prep the rossolimo in 2018.”

“What the fuck, Hikaru?” He was running his hands through his hair and breathing heavily as he stared at Hikaru. “You’re mad I don’t want the title but you help me lose it? I can’t win with you can I?” And he turned away and for a horrible second Hikaru thought he would just leave him, take off into the busy crowds, and fly back to Norway. 

He reached out, grabbing Magnus’s sleeves. He watched as Magnus’s eyes looked at their point of contact then flicked back up. 

“But I can’t win with you on the board.” And it always came back to this, the fact that Magnus was simply a better player, a fact Hikaru tried and tried and tried but simply could not change. 

“You won in 2016.” And Hikaru was still grabbing onto his sleeve. Magnus reached down and tangled their fingers together. 

“Okay but-” Hikaru still had more to say. “Why are you leaving the title then?” He knew he sounded like a little kid, begging for an explanation for everything but he truly didn’t understand Magnus Carlsen sometimes. 

“I just don’t want to put in the effort again.” And Hikaru could see it in the lines under his eyes, the sag of his shoulders, the toll it took on him. “I don’t want to waste months of my life preparing.” 

His struggles were so far off from what Hikaru had been facing. 

“But you're just going to give it up? I didn’t take you for a quitter.” Memories of what Magnus had said to him in London before they started their thing flooded his mind and his anger was back again. He needed to hurt Magnus back. 

“You didn’t deserve to be world champion.” And there, he said it. 

“What the fuck.” His voice was loud as he put his hand out, as if to grab his shoulders and shake him but he let them fall back loosely to his sides. “What are you-“

But Hikaru interrupted. “You just win in tiebreaks.” It didn’t even make sense, he had won more in classical than not but it was the easiest scab to scratch. 

“Fine, be like that. Let’s talk about how half your videos are about me. Your YouTube money is from me. ” Hikaru wanted to scream, to shout, to run away, to pull Magnus closer. What were they doing he didn’t mean for them to fight

And for once, Hikaru didn’t have anything to shoot back, he had run out of fuel. Now that fire kept burning and burning. 

“I cheated on my girlfriend for you.” He finally whispered. “In 2019. For you.”

“What?” And that clearly had not been what Magnus had expected to come out of his mouth because his eyebrows were furrowing and fuck Hikaru wanted to kiss the spot in between them-

“Those were the marks. On your neck.” He nodded, feeling something close to shame. Shame he didn’t feel that bad, shame he would do it again. 

“You wanted me that bad, huh?” He was back to his cocky persona, anger still simmering in his gaze but now he was distracted. Found something new to tease Hikaru over. 

“Just…” And now that the anger has mostly dissipated, all Hikaru was left with was the hurt. Say sorry. 

“It’s late just…come home with me?” He decided on the end. I don’t want to fight here. Magnus was looking at him, deciding. 

“I can get a hotel if you don’t want me there.” His tone was measured, even. 

“No, I do. It’ll be better, it’s just too late.” If Magnus didn’t come with him Hikaru would never forgive himself, he would spiral and spiral-

“Okay.” And he apparently found whatever he was looking for in Hikaru’s gaze because he grabbed his suitcase and started to walk. 

They were still holding hands, Hikaru realized. In public. Hikaru’s ears were probably bright red. Anyone could see them. 

As they made their way back to the parking garage, Hikaru summoned his last ounce of courage. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, the words unfamiliar as they rolled off his tongue. “I shouldn’t have been so quick to yell at you back there.” 

“You didn’t let me explain myself properly.” And he sounded hurt. Hikaru kept his eyes forward, on the gravel crunching beneath his feet. 

“I think we should discuss this tomorrow, when we are both more rested.” 

A beat of silence. 

“I’m sorry too.” Magnus whispered, thumb brushing over Hikaru’s knuckle. “I love watching your streams.” 

The confession from his once rival meant more than the world to him, more than words could describe. 

They reached the garage. It was dead silent except for the sound of Magnus’s suitcase rolling over concrete and the ding of an elevator. 

As Hikaru stared at their blurry reflections in the elevator doors, he couldn’t stop his mind from racing. 

Why are you here? What are we? What do you even want from me?

But he knew those were words for tomorrow. 

Tomorrow. 

It was a funny thought, usually their thing started and died overnight. But next morning Magnus would be there. For the next few weeks. He would be his when the sun rose and when the sun set.

When they reached Hikaru’s car, Magnus’s fingers slipped out of his grip to hoist his suitcase up and into the truck. Hikaru flexed his fingers in the humid night air, waiting, wanting, wishing. For something he didn’t even know he craved. 

He swallowed and got into the driver's seat. They had a long drive ahead of them, in more ways than one. 

But as he adjusted his rear mirrors and watched Magnus hit his head getting into the passenger seat, he felt they would be fine. 

~

Magnus stared at him. A lot. 

At first, Hikaru thought it was only something he did during fights but he felt his gaze constantly on him as he weaved through late-night Miami traffic. The windows were down, the humid air a welcome relief from the coldness of the airport. Magnus had his head tilted back against the seat, head turned as he unabashedly stared at him, wind blowing his hair in his eyes. It felt both refreshing and unsettling, being the object of his attention. 

“What are you staring at?” Hikaru asked after a minute with a little laugh, feeling a bit self-conscious. 

“I’ve never seen you drive before.” Magnus answered honestly. 

“Yeah well not all of us live in walkable European cities.” He shot back, finding temporary relief in their banter. He had read somewhere, in some article, at an ungodly hour in the morning that Magnus couldn’t drive and the silence from the man next to him pretty much confirmed it. 

Hikaru continued to drive, switching off the major highway onto smaller roads. It was slightly weird, weaving through these familiar roads with an unfamiliar passenger. 

The car rolled down the dimly lit streets, the rhythmic hum of the engine and the faint sounds of the night outside creating a soothing backdrop to the tension that still lingered between Hikaru and Magnus. They had both said things they couldn't take back at the airport, and even though they had made a pack of peace till the morning, the atmosphere inside the car remained charged. 

As they approached Hikaru's house, he couldn't help but glance at Magnus out of the corner of his eye. The tension was taking its toll on both of them. Magnus looked tired, and the lines on his face seemed more pronounced than ever. Finally, they arrived at Hikaru's modest home, the warm glow of the porch light welcoming them. Hikaru parked the car and turned off the engine, but neither of them made a move to get out. The silence hung in the air, heavy and unyielding.

Then, in a moment of unspoken understanding, Magnus unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door. Hikaru followed suit. As they stepped out onto the driveway, Hikaru couldn't help but feel a strange mix of apprehension and anticipation. What would happen next? What would come out of this impromptu visit?

With a shared, wordless agreement, they walked to the front door together, their footsteps echoing softly in the hallway as they approached Hikaru's home. As the door swung open, it revealed the dimly lit interior of Hikaru's home, bathed in the soft, amber glow of the hallway light. Hikaru paused, looking back at Magnus hesitating in his doorway, aware of the new step they were taking in their relationship, inviting Magnus to cross the threshold into Hikaru's world, a world that had been private and guarded until now. Their shared uncertainty lingered in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings and the uncharted territory they were stepping into together.

The hardwood floors creaked ever so slightly beneath their footsteps, a familiar sound that seemed to resonate with the weight of the moment. Inside, the house lay quiet and still, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, a comforting reminder of the life that existed within these walls. The air was cool and carried a sense of calm, as if the house itself was aware of the need for peace. 

Hikaru hesitated for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the cozy living room with its well-worn couch and the soft glow of a table lamp. He then cleared his throat, breaking the silence with a gentle, almost nervous tone. "Well, I guess it's late. We should probably get some rest."

The words hung in the air, a simple yet significant acknowledgment of the quiet night they were about to share in this unassuming home. When Hikaru had first bought the house, he didn’t bother spending money on decorations, it was simply a rest stop between endless tournaments around the world. During the pandemic though, he was overcome with an all-consuming urge to make this house into a home. 

“You sure I can take the bedroom? I’m fine with the couch.” He had paused in the doorframe of Hikaru’s bedroom, eyes scanning the picture frames his mother had put up on the walls, a glimpse into Hikaru off the chess board. 

“You’re the guest.” His words unintentionally came out in a whisper, and he cleared his throat. “Bathroom’s down the hall.” And so he left Magnus there, hand wrapped around his suitcase in his bedroom as he took off down the hall to make sure the bathroom was at least presentable. While walking, his eyes drifted to the slightly open doorway of his streaming room, to the gentle glow of his monitors and the watchful figurines staring at him in the dark, a reminder of his new job. 

He was shoving his products into drawers to clear counter space when- 

“I don’t like when we fight.” 

He whipped around to see Magnus, changed into a soft pair of pajamas leaning against the doorframe, watching him. 

“Jesus, you scared me.” He straightened up, and looked at Magnus in the eyes. He looked so different in the soft glow of his bathroom light, a far cry from Magnus under the bright stage lights he had seen so many times. It brought him back to their night in 2010, what almost felt like a lifetime ago. 

In that moment, neither of them said anything, but the intensity in Magnus's eyes mirrored the fervor they displayed when they argued.

“I don’t like it either,” Hikaru admitted. Magnus was stepping into the bathroom now, caging him against the counter. 

"I just...I get frustrated sometimes, you know? Chess has always been this...complicated thing between us." It’s how we met, how we know each other, how we earn money, how both of our ego’s get bloodied and bruised…

Magnus nodded in understanding, his gaze not leaving Hikaru's. "I know... It's like we can never really escape it, no matter how hard we try." 

Hikaru reached out, his hand coming to rest on Magnus's arm. It was a tentative gesture, a silent truce between them. "Look, let's not talk about this right now. We're both tired, and we have a lot to figure out."

“I know. I just-” He was backing Hikaru against the counter, hands at Hikaru’s sides. 

Hikaru's heart raced as Magnus closed the distance between them, the counter cold against his lower back. He could feel the warmth of Magnus's breath on his face, and their eyes locked in a moment of unspoken understanding. Magnus's fingers traced a soft path along Hikaru's sides, sending shivers down his spine. The tension between them was palpable, the weight of their shared history and unspoken desires hanging in the air. 

"I missed you," Magnus admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips hovered dangerously close to Hikaru's, their breaths mingling. Hikaru couldn’t breathe, could feel his heart beating in his throat. 

Fuck. 

He closed the gap, holding Magnus’s jaw, feeling more than hearing the swallow in his throat. He was in control despite being the one caged in, running his hands along his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles tensed under his touch in his thin sleep shirt. Huh, he thought he would be more tired after the match and flight but if he was in the mood-

As they let their bodies do the talking, speak the confessions that had long been left unsaid, Magnus pulled him to the bedroom and gently pushed him onto the bed. It was different from their usual dynamics of dominance and submission, but Hikaru didn’t mind. It felt difference this time, with the context of staying. 

Hikaru realized he just wanted to take care of him, to reward him for the chess he had played. It was a new feeling, no longer wanting revenge. He just wanted to make him feel good. 

He kissed down his chest, felt the soft hair and the moles that dotted his body, felt the soft gasps from above. He had grasped Magnus’s hands and kept them above his head, but this time as a gentle reminder rather than a punishment. 

He was so beautiful everywhere. His abs were defined, his stomach was hard, and he had all these cute moles over his skin that Hikaru wanted to map out like constellations. He wanted to put his mouth over every inch of exposed skin and spend the rest of the night worshiping him.

“Hik-” A gasp as a kiss was pressed to his hip bone. “-aru. Stop fucking teasing.” 

“You have a dirty mouth, don’t you?” He looked like absolute sin here, in Hikaru’s own bed, hair messily spread out on the white sheets and skin glowing under the warm light from the lamp on the nightstand. 

Another whine. 

Hikaru narrowed his eyes, pausing to stare up at him. “You sure are whiny for a world champion, huh?” 

A gasp, Magnus throwing his head back, eyes scrunched close. “No, I-” 

His voice quelled when Hikaru returned to kissing up and down his inner thighs. “It’s okay, I got you.” He found himself murmuring. This was so far off from their usual encounters, but the years had changed them both. “Let me take care of you.” What the fuck was he saying. 

 “Okay.” Magnus whispered, slowly reaching out, hand hovering over Hikaru’s for a moment before threading their hands together. It felt like it had been forever, not just an hour since they had last held hands. In a way, this felt more intimate than all their nights together. He could feel both their heartbeats beating together, a sound already becoming familiar. 

While these thoughts had panicked him in the past, they soothed his ever-floating mind. He’s mine for the next few weeks. 

Despite their careers being based of pleasing others, keeping the fans entertained and the sponsors happy, he could let himself be a little bit selfish tonight. 

~

“Hikaru.” Hikaru rolled over onto his side. “Oh, I thought you were asleep.” Magnus was laying on his side, shirtless under the moonlight staring at him, eyes scrunched up. 

They were so far away. 

He reached out, felt the small “oh” that spilled from Magnus’s lips as he tugged his shoulder back. He let Magnus fall back on him, legs tangled together, skin rubbing together everywhere. 

“You’re gonna stay?” Magnus asked, his hands running along his torso. He had an obsession with his waist. 

“You idiot,” Hikaru replied fondly, grabbing Magnus’s head and laying it on his chest. “It’s my own bed where would I even go?”

“The couch?” He looked up at him and smiled. “You said you were gonna take it.”

“Yeah well-” and embarrassingly Hikaru didn’t have a comeback right away. “I can’t go when all your limbs are on me.” 

don’t move don’t move don’t move don’t move

He didn’t move, Hikaru could feel the shaking of his shoulders as he laughed from where they were touching. 

“Okay.”

And they hadn’t shared a bed in seven years, not since 2014. And that had been an accident, this was intentional. There was no tournament to worry about, no reason really to get out of bed before noon. They had nothing but empty days to fill. 

Magnus burrowed his head into his shoulder. “Missed you.” He repeated. It did a strange thing to Hikaru’s heart, made it leap up into his throat. 

“I know.” Hikaru whispered into the darkness, not finding it in himself to say it back. “I’m…” swallow your ego and say it. “I’m sorry.” He said for the third time that night. 

“For what?” Magnus’s voice was deep, he was so sleepy but he still tilted his head back to look at Hikaru. 

“I don’t know. I’m just…sorry this has to be the way this is.”

I’m sorry I ignored you during the pandemic, I’m sorry I yelled at you in the airport, I’m sorry I kept pushing you away, I’m sorry our professions don’t make it easy

And Magnus seemed to get it. He had changed a lot over the years, Hikaru realized. No longer so young and hot-headed, so full of passion that so often turned into rage. He had heard about what happened after game eight in 2016. He had mellowed out beautifully. He pressed a kiss to Hikaru’s collarbone, lips lazily speaking. “We can talk more in the morning.”

It was a promise. 

Hikaru gripped his shoulders tighter and burrowed his face into his hair. Fuck. He smelled so good, like minty shampoo. He could imagine this being their daily nighttime routine, sharing a bottle of shampoo and crawling into bed together shirtless. 

Tomorrow we will talk. Tomorrow we will decide. 

~

He woke up in fleeting moments, feeling the rustle of the sheets next to him, the gradual rise and fall of Magnus's chest against his back, the warmth of their entwined legs, the soothing sound of his steady breathing.

He turned slightly, facing Magnus in the dim light. Magnus's face was relaxed in sleep, his features softened by the shadows. Hikaru reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from Magnus's forehead, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of his cheek. This was the man he had spent his whole life comparing himself to, chasing desperately and now he was here, in Florida, in Hikaru’s bed. The competitive edge that had always simmered between them had melted away in the night, leaving only a sense of contentment.

He felt at peace in the moment, not even worrying about the talk that was to come. For once he had no stream he had to turn on, no online tournament to play in, no lines to memorize. 

As dawn's soft light gradually seeped through the curtains, Hikaru couldn't help but linger in that peaceful moment. He watched Magnus sleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady, reassuring rhythm. The lines of worry that had etched themselves on Magnus's face were smoothed out in slumber, making him look younger and more vulnerable than Hikaru had ever seen.

Magnus smiled in his sleep, his lips curling into a soft, affectionate curve.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked in a low, morning-roughened voice. 

Hikaru blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and a faint flush crept up his cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. Fucking get it together, Nakamura.

"I, uh, didn't mean to stare," he admitted sheepishly. 

Magnus chuckled. "It's alright," he said softly. "I don't mind."

They lay there in bed together for a moment, savoring the delicate moment, a break from their fast-paced lives. 

When they finally got out of bed, Hikaru realized something. Magnus fit into his home so well. It was as if he had always been a part of it, seamlessly blending into the familiar surroundings.

He took the other sink in his bathroom, easily dodged over the creaky step, took the other slot in his toaster, casually occupied the other chair at the table, as if it had always been a part of his daily routine. 

“Of course you eat that sugary stuff for breakfast,” Hikaru couldn’t help but say, to relieve them of some of their lingering tension. 

Magnus chuckled, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Well, not everyone can survive on endless cups of coffee like you, Hikaru." 

Hikaru poured himself a cup of his beloved black coffee and took a sip. "True, caffeine is my life force." 

As they continued eating breakfast, their conversation slowly shifted towards the events of the previous night at the airport. Hikaru decided it was time to address the elephant in the room.

“I guess we should talk about last night, right?” 

Magnus looked up from his plate, his expression serious yet open to discussion. "Yeah, we should." he acknowledged, setting down his fork.

Hikaru figured he should go first, since he had been the one to escalate things. “I shouldn’t have said what I said last night. It’s your decision to make.”

He was unfamiliar with this, this careful threading together of words, to smooth over cracks. But for Magnus, he’d learn. 

“I know…” Magnus was running his fingers over the ridges on the table. “I didn’t handle it that well either. It’s a lot to drop on you so suddenly.”

Hikaru sighed inwardly, regret seeping into his words. “I don’t think you're a quitter...I don’t know why I said that last night. I was so…” so jealous. It went unsaid, as many things did between them. 

“For the record, I don’t think your YouTube money is just from me. I…” He ducked his head, a hint of shyness in his expression. “I sometimes watch your content.”

And fuck, wasn’t that a pretty thought. Hikaru let his mind wander, did he watch it in bed, late at night, wrapped in a blanket because timezones existed? Or did he watch it first thing in the morning, eyes squinting at the bright screen? Did he subscribe? Did he watch for the game or Hikaru’s face did he-

“Maybe you could learn a thing or two.” He settled on, voice lightening. They had talked seriously for long enough. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Magnus just said with an easy smile. He backed down a lot more these days, Hikaru realized. 

He let himself fantasize over wooden pieces and laughter, of a future like this. One where he didn’t come home alone, one where they sat together in comfortable silence, one where there was another toothbrush in his bathroom, another pair of pillowcases to be washed. He could take him to the beach someday, watch as they both dragged sand into the house. The holidays were coming up, perhaps they could see the lights in the city, go eat Cuban food from street vendors in the city, Hikaru teasing Magnus for his spice tolerance. Or perhaps they could stay home, play endless bongcloud blitz games, and trash talk. 

I will make you love Florida. 

There would still prep that remained hidden, ego’s that wouldn’t yield, dreams and aspirations of him that wouldn’t fade, maybe forever.

 But they had worked through a lot. 

It was still so hopelessly unrealistic, professional chess didn't allow for a relationship like this. Not to mention the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean that separated them. But they had changed so much over the years, that maybe, just maybe there was a chance. 

A chance was all Hikaru needed to make a plan on the board, was it really that difficult off it too?