Beth and Benny sat in the hotel restaurant in Chicago, neither of them having the appetite to eat breakfast. Benny stared at his coffee, utterly zoned out, while Beth looked at him pitifully.

"Benny," She said, but the champion still didn't look up from his mug. "It's her decision. We can't change that."

"I know," He said, but there was some venom behind his words. "She told me all about her decisions,"

"That's enough," Beth demanded. Benny finally looked up at her, his stare lethal, but Beth's own demeaner was enough to get him to stay quiet. "She's had a tougher time than most, Benny. She'll come back eventually. We just need to give her time,"

Benny stood then, leaving his coffee untouched. "I've run out of patience."

Beth stayed sat while Benny walked away. She hated it when he was like this; so inside of his own head, so hateful towards something that could be fixed. Benny Watts had got his heart broken, and she knew all too well how that changed his behaviour for the worse.

A part of her wished you were here, even if you chose not to compete, but Beth also knew how guilty you felt about your own actions. Overcoming personal guilt to apologise for something self-inflicted was one of the most difficult things a person could do; it was something Beth had also experienced with Benny.

She glanced at the clock, the time was 9:47am, meaning there were just over two hours before the tournament began. Beth sighed, choosing to finish her coffee alone, while Benny Watts isolated himself away in his room before the games begun.

You didn't sleep on the plane, too overcome with anxiety to even try. As you landed at O'Hare International Airport, you finally realised what was about to happen—

You weren't just about to be face to face with Benny again, after all you'd said and done; you were about to compete in your first chess tournament. In front of press, reviewers, other players and spectators alike, all of which definitely knew your last name already.

You'd packed your father's letter, bringing it with you as a reminder of why you were doing this. His written permission for you to play was stuffed in your bag, along with anything else you managed to throw in your suitcase, before rushing to the airport to get on the next available flight to the windy city.

By the time you made it out of the airport, you had just over an hour to make it to the hotel. You hadn't even booked a room, too wrapped up in actually making to Chicago on time for the tournament. It didn't matter—you could book one when you arrived, or you knew Beth would offer up hers for you stay in for the weekend.

You were excited to see her again, to play her. You wanted to remember it this time, as you both sat in silence with a chess board before you. You wanted to see the way she flicked her wrist when moving a piece, the way she clicked the clock after playing, the way she lost—

Despite that excitement, ravenous butterflies were eating your gut at the thought of seeing Benny again.

You'd been so hurtful, so blind, so stuck in your head that you'd wholeheartedly believed his statement not to be true—I'm in love with you.

You tried not to think about whether he still felt the same, after a month without contact. You tried not to think about whether those feelings had turned to resentment or hatred in your time apart. You tried not to think about how much you missed him, with his sarcastic retorts, his soft eyes, his gentle fingers—

"Taxi!" You yelled, as you stood by the rank outside O'Hare. You jumped in the first one that stopped. "The Waldorf Hotel, as fast as you can."

Chicago traffic was up there with New York City, but you pushed on. It was going to be down to the wire, but as long as you were there for your first game, whoever you were against, you knew it would be okay.

As the taxi pulled up outside the Waldorf, you shoved money in the driver's hands and bound out of the car immediately. You collected your suitcase, slamming the boot shut on his car and yelling a "Sorry!" as you rushed inside.

It was 11:56am; you'd made it with four minutes to spare.

You rushed to the sign up table, not even thinking about what the hell you looked like, after almost seven hours of travelling. "Y/N L/N, I'm here— I'm here to sign in."

The attendant at the table eyed you suspiciously, before his face softened. "Grandmaster L/N's daughter?"

You paused, before you nodded proudly.

That caught the attention of some other attendants. They made their way to the table, eyes full of curiosity. You readied yourself for their questions, their praises, all the while thinking about your father's letter—

He'd wanted this. He'd wanted you to play him—

And he'd want you to do it with pride.

You tried not to feel overwhelmed as a crowd formed, as they offered their condolences, their praise, their excitement for you competing. You saw out of the corner of your eye as press joined the huddle, some speaking into recording devices and microphones, commentating what was happening currently—

"We've just been informed that Y/N L/N has signed in for the tournament. This is truly a special day, folks. After the tragedy where we lost Grandmaster L/N, it's news to us that his own daughter actually plays the game herself. We'll be keeping close tabs on her games and plays, and seeing how much of her father has rubbed off on her as a player—,"

"Beth Harmon has just emerged from the elevator, making her way into the lobby. I wonder how she'll take it seeing another female competitor for the first time in her career—,"

You turned then, as your eyes landed upon Beth. She stood at the edge of the huddle, a small smile on her face. Her eyes were glassy; her dimples quivered. You muttered excuse me's as you made your way through the group, dropping your suitcase to the floor before you embraced her warmly.

Both of you ignored the questions, mutterings and commentaries as you did. You were too overcome with that warm feeling as she hugged you back, breathing shallowly beneath your chest. She pulled away, keeping her fingers curled in yours. "It's about time," She breathed out, and you couldn't help but chuckle. "What changed your mind?"

You paused, squeezing her hands. "Everything."

"Your first game isn't for another hour," Beth began, transforming into the professional chess player she was. "Go up to my room, settle down, and come back when you're ready." She placed her room key in your hand, shooting you a ready smile.

"Where's Benny?" You let out, swallowing down a lump in your throat.

"About to play," Beth explained. "Make an entrance, when it's time."

You made your way to her room then, dropping your suitcase to the floor as you stood. You breathed deeply a few times, trying desperately to calm your racing heart. You had less than an hour to prepare yourself to play; to prepare yourself to see him.

You showered after such a stressful journey, calming yourself down as you recalled everything you knew about the game. This wasn't the same as the Columbia Student Union, this wasn't the same as drunk speed chess that you could barely remember—this was documented, spoken about—this would show the chess world who you were.

At quarter to one, you headed downstairs. You weren't dressed fancifully, donning only your usual flared jeans and an off the shoulder blouse, with your trusty boots to match. You waited outside the playing hall, collecting your nerves as your bones began to rattle beneath your skin.

This was it—this was it.

You'd stashed your father's letter in your back pocket, to have him close by you throughout your games. You glimpsed Beth, overseeing the end of Benny's first game. His opponent, a man who didn't look much younger than him, had sweat on his brow. You smiled slyly, knowing that it would only be moments before he resigned the game.

When he did, he stood, sticking out his hand towards Benny. Benny took it, shaking his hand firmly as an applause erupted from the spectators.

"Benny Watts beats Hamley Jenkins in a total of forty-six moves." Someone announced, as they changed the score board. Your heart almost jumped out of your skin as you saw your name—you were up against a boy, named Jackson Grand. He looked no older than thirteen in the photo, pinned to the board next to his name.

"Reset for the L/N versus Grand game." The announcer added, and all of a sudden, a hundred pairs of eyes rested upon you. You swallowed down your nerves, walking forward into the playing hall.

Muttering began immediately, as whispers were passed from person to person.

Benny was looking at the board, his eyes scanning over your name, before he finally turned towards you. You looked him in the eye, your most apologetic expression donned. His face was void of any expression, but his eyes showed different— he was shocked. Too shocked to move, to speak, to engage in any kind of greeting, or screaming match, or dismissal.

A pit had opened in your stomach at the sight of him, reminding you of every caring, kind, and supportive act he'd ever done for you, or said to you. Your sour words from that phone call entered your mind then, as you got ever closer to the champion. You felt sick knowing what you'd said to him; you felt broken knowing that you'd broken him.

Beth grabbed his hand swiftly, pulling him down to sit next to her as you made your way to the chess table. You sat on the black side, crossing your legs, before Jackson sat opposite you. He stuck out his hand, and you shook it in greeting.

"I'm sorry about your father," He said, his voice squeaking. His eyes were huge, his hair was shortly cut—he was just a child.

"Thank you." You replied, sending him a small smile.

"Did he teach you?" Jackson added, as the attendees reset the upright replica of the chess board, ready to note down your moves as you played.

"Yes," You said. It wasn't the whole truth, you knew, but the way his eyes lit up at your response was enough to send shivers down your spine. You were going to feel bad beating this kid, but a part of you didn't care, either.

As the room went silent and the clock struck 1pm, you started the clock—

After fourteen moves, Jackson was forced to resign.

You noticed Benny as he stood swiftly, striding out of the playing hall and into the lobby. Beth sent you a stare, before she followed him out calmly. You looked back towards Jackson.

He stuck out his hand in defeat, which you took graciously. "It was an honour," He said, smiling behind sad eyes. Applause broke out, larger than it had been at Benny's win. You stood, smiling at the faces of the spectators and press alike, before you strolled out of the hall, eyes scanning the room for a cowboy hat amongst the crowds.

"Y/N," Beth spoke, grabbing onto your arm abruptly. You hadn't noticed her.

"Where is—," You began.

"He went to his room, 307." You nodded at her, sending her a nervous smile. "Well done." She added, and you huffed in response.

"I feel bad. He's only a kid."

"He'll learn from the game you just played, believe me. Losing to a player like you is considered an achievement, not a loss." She stated, and you were thankful for her support. You made your way to the elevators, riding up to the third floor, before winding your way down the corridor and stopping before his room—

307.

You paused, raising your knuckles to the door. You didn't know what you were going to say to him; how you'd ever be able to say sorry enough times to make up for the way you'd behaved. A part of you understood if he didn't want to patch things up, if you never reached the same closeness that you'd had with him before, but even if that was the case; you had to own up to your demons.

It was the least he deserved.

You took the plunge, knocking three times, before you took a step back from his door. He didn't answer it immediately; he didn't answer it went you knocked again after a minute, either. You gulped down your sadness, cementing that he didn't want to talk. It was his decision, and you had to respect it, after all you'd done.

You turned your back on his door, breathing deeply a few times, intending to go back to the lobby and find Beth—

That's when he pulled open his door aggressively, grabbing your arm abruptly and pulling you inside without warning. He slammed it shut as you realised what was happening. You stepped back, slamming into the back of his door as he kept his grip on both of your biceps.

He was so close—close enough to feel his breathing. His fingers squeezed your arms hastily, like he was afraid you'd leave at any moment. His eyes glared at you like you were his opponents King—ready to move, to strike, to beat down everyone until he could finally reach you to win the game.

"You have some nerve," Benny whispered, finally breaking the silence. You felt your eyes begin to well.

"I—,"

"Before you speak, just tell me," He interrupted. You watched as his face softened, as his glare turned into something much gentler. His eyes danced over your face, your chin, your lips, before they shot back up to your eyes. You saw the tug on his lips as the tiniest smug smile placed itself there. "How did it feel crushing a thirteen-year-olds soul?"

"Fantastic." You replied, knowing that he was revisiting that day in Vegas. It felt like years ago, now, as you stood inches away from his lips. You'd still harboured so much resentment for chess back then, to the point where you didn't reveal anything to the champion when he'd asked.

You felt miles away from the state you'd been then, just moments before your father had dropped down, dead. You realised then, that despite your words, your actions, the way your mind liked to scream things at you that weren't true—

Maybe you'd had to hit rock bottom to get back up, on the right track.

You slowly grabbed your father's letter from your back pocket, sticking it under Benny's nose. His eyes flicked to it, then back at you; he didn't want to let you go; not again.

"I got it yesterday. A letter from my father," You started, as you felt the familiar trails of tears as they fell from your eyes. "He knew— or had a feeling. He wrote it after I moved out," You sniffed out, smiling despite the tears rolling down your cheeks. "He said that one day, he hoped he'd play against me, so he could see how I moved him into checkmate." Your voice wobbled then, as you dropped your hand from beneath Benny's chin.

You fell onto his chest then, placing your head over his heart.

Benny's arms moved to embrace you gently. He rested his chin above your head, squishing his cheek into your hair.

"This was never about him," Benny let out. You tightened your grip on his shirt, stretching the fabric until your fingers started to go numb.

"I know. I know that now," You replied. "I'm sorry, Benny. What I said was unforgivable," Words tumbled form your mouth like a wave, now, but you thought that wasn't a bad thing. "I didn't mean any of it—,"

"I know," He said, as a small chuckle emerged from his lips. It was sad, but it was also genuine.

He pulled away from you then, looking down at your tear-stained face. Slowly, he swiped a thumb under each eye, picking up the last of your tears. "As much as I wanted to, I think you're the only person I can't stay mad at, Y/N."

You swallowed then, not knowing if you had it in you to ask what you still wanted to know—did he still love you? Did he still want to love you?

Because, deep down, something bubbled within your gut—

Something that resembled your own kind of love, for him. You'd felt it growing in those weeks of isolation, in that time spent without him. It was agonising, knowing that you couldn't call him and talk like normal— knowing that you'd hurt him.

"Do you..." You began, but you stopped yourself. You were scared of both of his possible answers; whether it was a yes, or a no.

"Do I love you?" Benny finished your sentence. He'd read your mind, completely. You wondered if he'd worked out how to read your chess moves, yet. You looked at him expectantly, wide-eyed. He only smiled at you. "What do you think?"

Before you could react, he bridged the gap between you. As Benny pressed his lips upon yours, you allowed that warmth to overcome all of your senses. You pushed away the darkness that had wound its way into you since you were fifteen, you rejected the horrible thoughts your mind had about yourself; you focused solely on him—

His smell, his taste, the way he kissed you with the same ferocity with which he played speed chess.

It was another ten minutes before you and Benny entered the lobby together. Your cheeks were flushed, as you tried not to fall utterly into a daydream about what had happened in his room, just minutes before.

"Hey!" Beth yelled, waving her arm in the sky to alert you from over the crowd. You both approached her, your eyes meeting the crowd she was surrounded with—

You almost burst into tears when you saw Amanda, Matt and Kayden. You broke into a run, spreading your arms open as Amanda let out a high-pitched wail, before bombarding into you at full speed. You gripped onto her like your life depended on it. "I can't believe you're here!" You cheered happily into her shoulder.

She pulled away, raising her brows at you. "I can't believe you made a kid cry," Amanda let out, causing you to look towards Beth. She bit her lip at the little white lie she'd indulged Amanda with, letting out a devious chuckle.

Benny bear hugged with Matt and Kayden, as you and Amanda drifted back to the circle.

"Beth told us yesterday that she had a feeling you might turn up, in the end," Matt said, as you sent a curious look at your friends.

"Chess isn't the only thing I have a sixth sense about," Beth winked at you. You knew she'd got that feeling from your phone call with her yesterday, even if you hadn't had the idea to come until your father's letter. She'd rallied the troops.

"Oh shit," Benny said, suddenly, his eyes plastered on the stats board. He let out a chuckle, turning to you. "We're up next."

You followed his eyeline, scanning over the Watts versus L/N display. You shot a fighting stare back at him, despite the way your cheeks were blossoming with red.

Everyone took a seat in the playing hall, before you and Benny sauntered in, heading to your places opposite each other at the board. You shook his hand in yours, an aura of confidence spreading from within as you took your seats.

"I swear, if this is the first time you beat me, I'll kill you," You whispered out.

Benny sent you a smug smile in response. "Better get your gun ready,"

A silence descended on the hall, as everyone focused wholeheartedly on you and Benny. This was to be an interesting game— Watts against the daughter of his long-time opponent. They didn't know about all the times you'd played him, though, and all the times you'd won.

Benny hovered his hand over the clock starter, piercing you with his gaze.

"Ready?"