It takes Shindou a while to notice that Touya is distracted.
He blames this on his own focus, the intensity of even their practice games more than enough to dominate his whole attention. For several minutes there's just the flow of the game in his thoughts, the adrenaline rush of facing down a talented opponent, the struggle for victory that leaves no room for anything but their equally matched skill. If asked, Shindou could identify this gameplay as Touya's, would recognize it even if he were watching someone else play his side of the board, but that's not what he's thinking about as he sets a piece; he's thinking ahead the three or four moves he can see clearly, anticipating Touya's response as if it were predetermined by the flow of the game.
And then Touya makes a mistake.
Shindou's not sure, at first, that that is what it is. At first he's too shocked to even process where Touya has moved, falls abruptly out of the haze of full attention that playing at full strength gives him. He has to take a moment to see the stone Touya has placed, another to align it with the rest of the board, and even then he can't see the end goal, can make no sense out of it. It looks like an error, in reality, a misstep so obvious Shindou can't believe it of Touya. He's parsing the different possibilities for the play - maybe a late-game goal he's not seeing, a trap so well-laid he can't make out even the shadow of it - but nothing makes sense, even the best result he can see is sloppy, nothing at all like Touya's usual play style.
"What are you-" Shindou starts without thinking, too confused to process the absurdity of asking Touya for his strategy mid-game.
"Play," Touya cuts him off, his voice clear and crystal-sharp. Shindou looks up, his gaze startled away from the board and to the other's face instead. Touya isn't looking at him; he's staring at the board, his mouth set and shoulders tipped forward, hands curling into fists over his knees. And he's blushing, scarlet rising to stain the edge of his cheekbones even as Shindou stares at him, the shadow of his hair falling around his features completely insufficient to cover his reaction.
The shape of the game evaporates from Shindou's mind. He's sure that if someone asked him right now to recreate the match they are halfway through he wouldn't be able to manage more than the first pair of moves before drawing a blank. He's just staring, wide-eyed and shocked into silence as Touya's blush deepens, as his own heartbeat speeds up with complete disregard for anything about the peace of the setting.
"Touya?" he finally manages, feeling like he's croaking the word up out of his throat. "Are you okay?"
Touya glances up at him. Shindou has no idea what expression he's wearing; whatever it is is apparently enough to fit a crease against Touya's forehead, to draw his gaze skidding over Shindou's features for a strange, taut moment before he looks away, pins his gaze to the edge of the Go board as if he's never seen it before.
"It's your turn," Touya says to the board.
"You made a mistake," Shindou says, certain enough in the statement that the words come smooth over his tongue. "You never make mistakes."
"I was distracted," Touya offers, a too-short explanation of an unprecedented occurrence. "I can recover."
"Distracted?" Shindou repeats, incredulity skipping strain into his voice as he leans in over the board. He's flushing hot himself, now, the rush of his heartbeat enough to warm all through his body. "You were distracted?"
"Yes," Touya snaps, and he's looking up, the spark of irritation in his gaze far closer than Shindou was expecting it to be. "Happy now?"
The bite of his words is enough to take off the edge of Shindou's reaction, to rock him back from the skeptical laughter that was tightening in his throat. Touya is still crimson, eyes angry but mouth curving into a frown. His teeth are catching against his lower lip, working anxiety across the line of it. Shindou can see his lip going darker in the wake of the friction.
"Not really," he says, his voice slowing into something softer even as his heart speeds, racing towards some finish line Shindou can't quite make out. "What's wrong?"
Touya is blushing so badly Shindou can feel his own cheeks going hot, sympathy embarrassment for something he doesn't understand. "Nothing," he says, his voice so faint it gives the lie to his claim immediately. He clears his throat. "I'm fine."
"Touya," Shindou groans, effectively ruining the game by bracing his hand against the board as he leans in for emphasis. "Stop being so-"
He's not sure what he's going to say. Idiotic, maybe, or ridiculous, or maybe just you because this is who Touya is, this is exactly what he does, this is why Shindou more often than not leaves the other's house stomping his irritation into the sidewalk as he walks home. But when he leans in Touya doesn't draw back, Touya's gaze drops unmistakably to his mouth, and when Touya swallows it comes out as a faint whimper that effectively silences anything Shindou could possibly think to say.
Neither of them move for what feels like a very long moment. Shindou can feel his arm cramping, the tension from the awkward angle he's in making itself known as an ache. But pulling away would feel like a retreat, and he's pretty sure it would look like a rejection, and he doesn't want to do either of those things. So he stays where he is, with his arm starting to shake from the effort of balance, while Touya stares at his mouth without moving.
And then - just like that - Touya leans in to press his mouth against Shindou's.
It's a moment of contact. Shindou has time to feel Touya's hair swing and catch at his skin, time to huff a breath that seems like it should be shock and feels a lot more like relief; then Touya's drawing back, slowly enough for his lips to cling to Shindou's for a moment, and they're separate again, at enough of a distance for Shindou to see Touya has shut his eyes, to see him blink himself back from a hazy distance like Shindou's never seen on his face before.
"Oh," Shindou says, the relief of confirmation sweeping through him and washing out the tension of expectation in his blood. "That was easy."
Touya's gaze snaps back to him, the stunned haze in his eyes going hard and irritated in the span of a heartbeat. It's a reassuringly familiar expression even before Touya snaps, "For you, maybe it was."
Shindou scoffs. "What, you're really going to take all the credit for that?"
Touya's chin comes up, his hair falling back from his face as the lines of his features go haughty. "I didn't see you doing anything."
"Hey." Shindou shifts his hand over the board, setting off a cascade of pieces onto the floor that neither of them look at. "You didn't give me any warning, you can't blame me for that."
"You think you'd be better with more warning?" Touya asks, skepticism clear on every syllable.
"I know I would be," Shindou says, and then he's leaning across the board, closing the gap to Touya's mouth so he can press his lips to the other's. Touya is still in the middle of hissing surprise when their lips meet but his mouth is soft, warmer than Shindou noticed the first time; Shindou pushes in harder, leans farther, and the board tips under him, threatens his balance before he grabs at Touya's shoulder to catch himself.
"Ow," Touya says, the sound resonating weirdly against Shindou's mouth, but when Shindou tries to pull away to balance himself there's a hand at his shirt, Touya holding him in place as he comes up off his knees to push back just as hard as Shindou's leaning in.
It takes a few minutes for them to figure out their balance; by the time they do most of the abandoned game is on the floor, pieces scattered in a way that Shindou knows will irritate Touya when they stop long enough for him to notice.
Luckily that's a ways off, if the way the are learning to fit their lips together is any indication.