It was easy to feel elated and happy in the weeks after the game. It was easy to go about your days, to and from university, making coffee in the morning, reading a book in the afternoon, writing up a paper in the early hours—

You hadn't felt this fulfilled in years.

You could finally think and talk about chess without feeling sick, or getting flashbacks to your father's games. You'd even started reading new chess books.

You frequented Monte's most weekends now, always going with Amanda or some of her other friends from Columbia. Occasionally, Benny and some others would arrive as well, though they never sat with your group anymore. The most you'd see Benny on a night out was at the bar, when both of you went to order another round for your tables.

You had a feeling Benny wasn't rushing to introduce you to the people he knew, and that it was all entirely for your sake—

You couldn't deny that it made you feel cast out in some instances. He hardly said more than a 'hello' when he saw you in the club, anymore.

In truth, your skin was itching for another game. You were itching to play, and to play against him.

But while there was that side of you that was screaming to play, there was an opposite side that was crying for you to stop. You'd gone back on everything you'd ever thought, every feeling of animosity, pain, hurt, from the chess world, from what happened to your father—

Just to play a stupid game with wooden pieces and black and white squares.

Nevertheless, there was one night at Monte's, almost a month after you'd played him, where you felt something snap. You were sat with Kayden while Amanda danced on the disco floor with another friend from university, and you couldn't take your eyes off Benny's stupid hat.

You tapped your glass restlessly. "What do you reckon they're talking about?" You said, and Kayden eyed the way you stared at their table.

"Jealous?" He said. You shot him a disapproving glare, before you bit down on the straw from your drink.

"Far from it. I just want to know what they huddle up and talk about every week, without so much as a greeting to us," The huddle in question: Benny, Matt and another man you'd never met before.

"They come here often, even before you arrived. Sometimes I join them," Kayden said nonchalantly.

"Then why don't we go over there and say hello?" You offered, and Kayden's eyes flashed.

"You and I both know they're talking about chess. They're probably talking about you." But you were already grabbing his arm and pulling him to standing.

"All the more reason to say hi,"

"Y/N—," He let out, before you gave a large tug on his sleeve, forcing him in front of you. The two of you walked to Benny's table, Kayden's uneasiness slowly fading to playfulness as he leant on their table and stole a shot from in front of Matt.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Benny said jokingly, grabbing Kayden's collar and shoving him round to sit next to Matt. His eyes flashed when they hit yours. "Y/N, come join us," You took the other seat next to Matt, right opposite Benny and the other boy you didn't know. "This is Mike—Mike, Y/N—Y/N, Mike,"

You stuck out your hand and shook his, smiling sweetly.

"Benny tells me you beat him at speed chess," Mike said, and you were taken off-guard. You tried not to sound smug when you replied, despite how smug you felt.

"Did he tell you I threw up afterwards?" The tension on the table melted with your words, as Matt and Kayden laughed to themselves, reminiscing.

"An honest reaction from anyone going up against me, obviously," Benny joked, finishing his beer. Chuckles surrounded the table, and you had no idea why you'd got so pressed about them before—you'd had a strange feeling of the avoidance Benny was giving off, but you had to realise it was probably off signals you'd put out.

He got up, pointing at the empty glasses, before he pointed at you. "Drink?"

"Do I even have to answer?" You said, watching his face transform into a boyish grin.

You watched as he walked towards the bar, his demeaner changing completely from the way he'd acted around the table. Sometimes you forgot that Benny was twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight. He had a young face, despite his fuzzy moustache and the entire cowboy get up. He was smug and egotistical, which was definitely annoying to his opponents, but the more you got to know him, the more that behaviour became part of his charm and personality.

The last person you'd expected to ever become friends with was Benny fucking Watts.

"Be honest," Mike began, turning to you. "You're fucking chuffed about beating him, aren't you?"

"You should have seen it," Matt added, sending you a gentle expression. "It was like modern dance."

"Maybe you'll see the next game," You said, just as Benny came back with a tray of pints.

"Next game?" All eyes flicked to him, apart from his own, that were glued to you. You watched his lip twitch, a smile trying to force its way through.

"Next game," You repeated, smiling as you grabbed a pint.

The rest of the night was giggles and booze, dancing and cigarettes. It was one of the best nights you'd had in New York to date. You were finally starting to feel like you, perhaps, belonged. It was a feeling you hadn't felt in your family home, or even in your shared apartment back in England.

It was a feeling you welcomed.

"You surprised me today," Benny said, walking you back to your place after Monte's.

"I have a habit of that," You joked, exhaling smoke and flicking your cigarette to the floor.

"When you said there would be another game, I wasn't expecting it this fast," He said, head tilting to the sky. "To be honest, I was trying not to crowd you after your win."

You let out a sigh in understanding. "That's why you were acting distant," You said. "I noticed it."

"Yeah—sorry. I just—," He paused, thinking through his words. "I wanted you to have that urge to play. I didn't want to pressure you to play the game if you weren't comfortable." You didn't reply, a feeling of appreciation floating over you. "But I can see that urge now, that craving to sit at a board and play." He moved his gaze to you. "It suits you."

You tried not to let the way he'd said that get to your head.

"I've been reading chess books again," You admitted. "I can't stop thinking about it." If Benny was trying to play down his happiness, he didn't show. He was practically beaming to himself as you spoke.

"I'll drop some books by in the next few days," He said.

"Thank you," You replied, and you meant it. You turned as you reached the outside of your building.

"See you around," Benny said softly. You reciprocated his smile, watching as he turned around and J-walked across the street.

It was mid-week when Amanda practically bombarded into the opposite library chair to you. "Please tell me you're not going to become boring like a lot of other chess players," She said, and you sent her an amused and confused smile.

"Why would you think that?"

"I don't know," She breathed out. "I just don't know anything about chess whatsoever. I feel left out whenever you guys talk about a gambit or Sicily. I haven't even been to Sicily,"

She popped her head on the library table, and you stuck out a hand, patting her a few times gently. "I promise I'm not going to become a boring old chess player," You said, and when Amanda looked up her eyes were sparkling.

"To be honest, I don't even think the others are boring either. Benny wears a cowboy hat, how boring could he be?"

"Well, that's true. And he's got the moustache." Amanda frowned.

"I don't like the moustache." She said it like she'd had multiple nightmares about the hair on his upper lip, like she'd fought in a war against it.

You knew how it felt being the odd one out in a group; you could feel Amanda's hurt. It was an utterly different world when you didn't have a clue about competitive chess. You leant forward, smiling at her.

"Here's my advice. When we play, just look at the other's faces, not the game itself." You began. "You can tell how a game is going by everyone's reactions, not the pieces on the board. It makes it all much more tense and enjoyable. I did that when I first started going to chess tournaments with my—," You stopped yourself, your throat immediately going dry.

Amanda's face dropped a little when she saw you struggling. "Dad?"

You forced yourself to swallow. "Yeah." You said, before you started packing your things up. "I gotta head home," You stood abruptly, shoving books in your bags. Amanda watched with worry as you packed up, a small frown on her face.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" She said, just before you turned on your heels and headed out of the building. You ignored her as you felt your heart begin to race.

You clamped your eyes shut as you reached outside, but all that you saw on the underside of your eyelids was a casket, slowly descending into the ground—

You gasped, stopping halfway down the stairs to the library, your tote bag flinging off your shoulder. You muttered to yourself as you tried to get yourself together. You were thankful that classes had just ended for the day, meaning not too many students were around to witness your stupidity.

You rushed down the stairs and squatted as you went to pick up the contents of your bag. You fumbled with your books and belongings, trying desperately to get everything back inside and bolt home as fast as possible.

The click of two heeled shoes appeared in front of your nose; then a hand reached down toward the floor and picked up one of the books—it was Benny's book.

"Don't ever tell him you've read this," A voice sounded from above. You hurriedly finished packing your bag and slung it over your shoulder clumsily as you stood up.

"Yeah—I regret doing just th—," You stopped speaking as your eyes hit hers.

The photos didn't do her any justice. Her eyes were huge, and her hair was a bright red that you hadn't been expecting. She looked like someone straight out of a Hollywood movie, with perfect curls and precisely applied make up—

"Beth Harmon," You said, furrowing your brows in confusion. What the hell was Beth Harmon doing in New York?

"Yes," She replied, a surprised smile on her face. "And you are?"

"Y/N!" Another voice yelled from a few meters away. Benny jogged towards you with a smile plastered on his face. "Great, you've met."

You still had multiple unanswered questions. "I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?" You said, and was surprisingly met with more smiles.

"I help mentor the chess team here. Beth came to visit for a few days." You nodded slowly, still trying to take in what was actually happening. Beth looked you up and down, but not judgementally.

"You're Y/N L/N. Benny's told me a lot about you," She started. "I already know a lot about your father." Butterflies appeared in your stomach at the mention of him once more. You were having an off day—it was impossible, no matter how hard you tried, not to feel sick, or faint, or wobbly, at any mention of him that day.

It would fade. You knew it would.

But then it would probably come back, again and again and again—

Until you forced yourself to forget again.

You swallowed, forcing your throat to open; forcing yourself to breathe.

"Yes, I expect you would." You replied, not meaning for it to be blunt, but that's exactly how it sounded. You sent an apologetic smile quickly, before you gestured to have the book back. You shoved it in your bag as Benny adjusted his hat.

"Wanna come to chess meet?" He asked, both sets of champion eyes staring you down.

"I was just heading home," You replied.

"Perfect, so you're free," He said, stepping forward and slinking an arm around your shoulders. You didn't know how to protest without revealing just how much you were crumbling today.

There was an ingrained vendetta against weakness in your system, so deep beneath your skin that you hadn't even wept at your father's funeral—

Not one single tear.

But your throat had hurt for days afterwards. Your voice had been coarse and raw, exhausted.

You let Benny lead you to the Student Union, smug smile plastered all over his face as he sauntered into the club with you and Beth. "Gentlemen," He announced upon arrival, and about two dozen boys turned to his immediate attention.

You shot an amused glance at Beth, who sent you the same one back.

"We have two special guests today—," He gestured to you and Harmon. "Beth Harmon, Chess World Champion, 1967," There was applause at Beth's introduction. She smiled sweetly around the room. Inside, butterflies were bombarding your gut—

"And Y/N L/N, Grandmaster L/N's daughter."

When no applause came, you wanted to die on the spot. Instead, the welcome you got was a room full of sudden sullen faces, a sombre tension entering the room and sticking over everything. Benny looked positively full of rage.

"If you're lucky, you'll see her second game ever played. The first of which, she beat me at speed chess." The faces changed like nothing you'd ever seen—the sudden chatter between the members was something that made your cheeks blush. "But let me make this clear, first—," Benny continued, shooting a hard stare at you before he continued talking. "There will be no questions surrounding Grandmaster L/N to Y/N, unless she begins the conversation. There will be no prodding, no poking, no prying. You got that?"

You stared at the back of Benny's head as he spoke, in awe at the authority he had over the room. If you were blushing before, your cheeks were definitely bright red then.

You were thankful, a little embarrassed, but mostly thankful.

You didn't expect to stay for more than a few games, but after an hour you were sat on a table, overseeing a commentary match between Beth and the Columbia chess team Captain. Benny was at the chalk board, reciting all the moves and strategies that were coming into play.

Beth had won every game she'd played, obviously.

"Now he's one move away from being in check—what does he do? Can he do anything?" Benny asked everyone, but the room went silent. Oblivious looks were passed around from man to man. You scanned the board once more, and the answer came to you instantly.

"He can't win," You spoke up, and felt twenty pairs of eyes wash over you. Benny furrowed his brows at you. "But they can draw." You saw Benny raise his eyebrow. You jumped down from the table and approached the board, mind fully in the game.

"None of his moves will put Beth in check, and moving his King would just result in a back and forth," You pointed to the black pawn on G2. "If he moves his pawn to the end of the board, he can swap one of his rooks back on the board." You moved the pawn to G1, swapping it out with a previously taken rook.

The rook was in line with Beth's King; she was blocked in by pawns from every angle.

"Beth would be forced to call a draw, since neither can win in their current positions."

Benny let out a slow clap, strolling toward you and smacking a hand on your shoulder. "That's what we call a Promotion," Benny said, practically glowing. "It's often overlooked in the middlegame." Benny clapped his hands together once more. "Right, one more game. Who wants to play?"

You felt all those eyes wash over you again. Now that you'd spoken, now that you'd at least proven you knew the game, you knew they'd want you to play—

But you just couldn't.

Not that day.

"Y/N?" Beth spoke, her eyes hitting yours. She was the last person you expected to speak up. You didn't know what to say—who would turn down a world champion?

You found yourself meeting Benny's eye, trying desperately to communicate that you'd probably throw up again if you sat down in that chair opposite Beth. Luckily for you, he came forward. "I'll play," He said, smiling at Beth. He glanced back at you as he took off his hat and held it out towards you. You took it from his hands, stepping away from the table.

You'd never seen a room full of people so focused on one game. None of them blinked, none of them spoke—this was like a flashback to the US Championship—when Beth had wiped the floor with Benny's game.

When Benny won, you expected Beth to be annoyed. She was known to be feisty, short-tempered, but when she lost, she lost gracefully. Benny, on the other hand, was celebrating his win in a less refined way; "Guess I just had a bad day in Ohio." He teased, but Beth accepted his comments light-heartedly with an aura of elegance that you hadn't expected, after reading about her earlier games.

Benny shoved open the double doors of the Student Union in triumph, a shit-eating grin slapped across his jaw. He mimed crowds cheering and applauding, all the while Beth descended the stairs respectfully, an amused look behind her eyes.

"Still got it," Benny said, finally. You came up behind him, slamming his cowboy hat on top of his pretty boy hair.

"Sure, you still got it," You chuckled. "Beth still whooped your ass last year."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Benny trailed off, striding ahead of you and Beth as he took in his victory.

"Why didn't you play?" Beth said suddenly, forcing you to meet her eye for just a second, before moving your gaze to the campus green.

"Today's not a good day for me to play," You said. It was vague, you knew, but you weren't in any headspace to explain, especially not to Beth fucking Harmon.

"You see him everywhere, don't you," She stated, crossing her arms as you continued to stroll away from the university. You tried not to hold your breath as you waited for her response—

You tried not to think of him.

"For months after New Mexico, I saw my mother at my games. She'd sit by the piano, or mingle amongst the crowds," Beth stopped abruptly, turning to face you. "But she wasn't a Grandmaster; she just had a daughter who knows how to play chess," She sent you a stare, one that penetrated through every barrier you'd designed to protect yourself. "You have both. I expect it's a lot to deal with, even just looking at a chess board, let alone playing the game—which you didn't actually play until a month ago."

You let out a forced chuckle. "Benny told you about that, then."

"He's called me a lot about you, recently. I can see why he's excited." Both of you glanced towards Benny; he had one foot up on a bench, arms draped over his knee, talking with two girls, whose giggles you could hear from where you stood.

"He's a charmer, for sure." You were being sarcastic, and Beth chuckled.

"Oh—he can be, when he wants to be," The way she said it made you send her a look.

"Oh?" You said, already catching on to what she was getting at. "I didn't realise it was like that,"

"Not anymore—God, no," Beth let out quickly. "But for those five weeks before Paris, sure. It was fun."