A/N: Unbeta'd. I wrote this at one in the morning when I was sad. Warnings for dark themes and death. It's written differently than my other work. (The writing is really bad in this forgive me)
i.
They say your life flashes before you die. It doesn't. Tick, tick, tick. The last thing Haruhi ever thought about was the rain. How it pours endlessly though no lightning strikes. It's soft, peaceful. The taxi rolls to stop at the light. Up front, the meter ticks. Tick, tick, tick. Street lights change from red to green, the car moves again.
Midway through the intersection a drunk driver gets the same idea. He's speeding down the road swirling in and around traffic like it's a well-timed dance. Tick, tick, tick. The light changes yellow. He decides he can make it. He never does. One car hits the other. They swerve out of control on the slick asphalt. Contact has been made with the back side of the cab.
A loud ambulance cries, racing down the road. Paramedics pour out of the vehicle. The drunk driver sustained little injury. A few scrapes and bruises but he is lucky. The others are not. The cabbie is passed out, head bleeding. Tick, tick, tick. The girl is dead on impact. She feels nothing. It is as if someone switched the light off in a room. Haruhi is no more. The meter still works, sounding into the darkness.
Her funeral is closed casket. Few people attend. A sobbing father. A few old friends from school. Coworkers. Six men stand solemnly. Numbness envelops them wholly. Each pays his respect to her. They don't utter a word to each other. Sounds aren't needed to convey their feeling. Boom.
ii.
Numbness never leaves Hikaru. Kaoru feels the same. It has been two months. The pain is unbearable. Every day feels dark and distant. When was the last time they left the estate? I'm sorry. One brother stares out the window absently. The other hasn't found it in himself to get out of bed. No one else can understand.
The hour is late. The day has felt slow. Then again, every day feels slow. Kaoru is sitting in a scarlet colored love seat. He has done his share. Hikaru enters the room. Everything is done. The maids and servants are gone for the day. Sharp scissors rest on the coffee table. Today it ends. I'm sorry. No note is left. It's unnecessary.
They stand on the balcony. Hikaru goes first, it was his idea. Deep slashes on one wrist. Then the other. Crimson dirties his pale flesh. The contrast is haunting. He gives a faint smile to Kaoru, sits on the ground. I'm sorry. The other goes next. He attempts to gash a wrist. Finally, skin breaks and blood pours. He feels woozy. The other hand is equally as challenging. Twin brothers share a last hug.
Suddenly, Kaoru is fearful. He doesn't want to die. The remaining brother calls the ambulance. Tears streak his face and Hikaru has already passed out. Kaoru fights to stay awake. He clutches the deeper cut. He passes out shortly after. It's too late. He dies of blood loss on the way to a hospital. Two more lightbulbs turn off. I forgive you.
iii.
Eleven-fifty eight at night. Mitsukuni sneaks out of his bedroom. Time has passed; he's married and has a child now. I can't breathe. The child hates sweets. Her father still likes midnight cake rendezvous. This is one of those nights. The last thing he ever eats. It's chocolate cake with a strawberry filling. It is delicious. The man takes on bite, then another, and another.
Twelve-eleven in the morning. One, two slices of cake are gone. Mitsukuni starts on his third. He stabs at it with his fork. I can't breathe. The food is moist and rich in flavor. He decides to compliment the chef tomorrow. There's a smile so big on his face it hurts. The rest hurts too. An extra big bite touches down in his mouth. The taste is gratifying on his tongue. There's a dash of pink frosting on the man's chin. He tries to swallow. This is a mistake. The chunk of cake stops midway down his throat. I can't breathe.
Twelve-sixteen in the morning. The servants have all left for the day. Mitsukuni clutches his throat. He coughs furiously. The man turns a deep shade of red. Still coughing. Collapsing on the hard oak wood. He wishes he had his stuffed bunny. It's in bed with his daughter. I can't breathe. He's crawling towards a phone in the kitchen, anything to make noise. Rasps for breath. Collapses once more, face down and unmoving. Another light switch turns off and everything is dark forever.
Five-thirty in the morning. The first workers of the day are arriving. They spread out and head to their respective stations. A young brunette finds him. He is long and dead and his body cold. She screams, drops her bucket of cleaning supplies. The image is embedded in her mind forever. Others come to see what the commotion is. Their boss is lying flat on the floor, one hand still at his throat. They were too late. There was nothing they could have done, anyways. We can't breathe.
iv.
Tamaki Suoh boards his flight. He is headed to Paris from Tokyo on a business trip. The city of love. Love was absent in his heart. Green light! His life has been long but his story is short. The plane takes off, travels in the direction of France. First class, international. The lounge is ritzy and the seats are luxurious. Then again, everything in his life is this nice.
Stewardesses prattle on about their many amenities and snacks. If they get on his nerves, it doesn't show. Green light! Tamaki charms each and every one of them. He supposes he could always take his own private jet if he wanted but flying commercial is always more fun.
The trip is bumpy and filled with turbulence. They are almost there, an hour or so away. A flight attendant's voice rings loud and clear through the flight. More turbulence, no surprise. Green light! Everyone is remaining calm. The wee hours of the morning shine across the sky.
The decrease in altitude is sudden. The airplane is losing height and the ground is growing closer at a rapid pace. It crashes. There are no survivors. That day, many lights turned off forever. His funeral is a big event. Many people attend. Red light.
v.
Takashi is at a major kendo tournament. He is in the locker room, preparing for the second round. He stretches. Puts on his gear. Ring. The bell tolls in the ring, signifying the end of a match. He enters the arena, faces his opponent.
There is a spacious amount of seating. Nearly all the seats are filled. Getting weapons into such an event wasn't easy. Men clothes in all black spread out in the stadium. Ring. A bell rings. Now is the time. The shouts of battle ring out below.
The first shots ring out. They scathe and burn. Ring. Soon, the whole building erupts in screams and terror. The first to die is a young women. She is just returning to her seat with a cup of soda. Her brain matter is splattered across the young boy in the next seat.
Takashi is shot twice. Once in the shoulder and another time in the chest. He is rushed to the hospital. Sixty-four people died that day. A hundred more leave wounded. Takashi is in the hospital for three hours before he dies. The sixty-fifth death that day. Sixty-five light bulbs are completely shattered. The number you have dialed is not in service.
vi.
Kyoya Ootori is a bitter old man. He has four children and one grandchild. None of them love him. Tick tock. His first heir is training to take full control of many hospitals in the area. The others have branched off into different sects of the company.
His wife has stayed by his side, though their love has long since left. She's only in it for the money, now. Lots of money she would soon control. Tick tock. She had a plan. One that involved becoming a widow.
It happens at a dinner party. They take a town car to the restaurant. She steps out first, quickly making her way to the side. She makes a big show of being the caring wife. Tick tock. Next Kyoya steps out. He is the picture of grace.
One shot is all that is needed. One shot splatters the crisp white suit in red. One shot stains the concrete under foot. The Ootori chairman is dead. Hundreds attend his funeral. None of them really care about him. His wife will inherit the money, and become chairman. This was her plan all along. The final light bulb in the host club is off. Bang.