disclaimer; I totally own it. Mhm.

warnings; multiple 'triggers', drug abuse, language, boylove, etc.

Still interested? All right, then. Full steam ahead, I say.

I will say, though, that I don't plan on writing a lemon, since for the life of me I cannot do it.

xx

show my cards

give you my heart

wish we could start all over

nothing's making sense at all

-painting flowers, all time low

xx

Personally, Hikaru never understood the fuss people made about Valentine's Day. Not that it got any better when he moved to France - the opposite actually. French people can be insane about celebrating this particular holiday.

He lights a cigarette, watching the tip burn in the half light of the messy hotel room. Messy…ha. Trashed is more like it.

He inhales the smoke gratefully, trying not to think about Japan.

But it's impossible not to on bad days like these; especially holidays.

Because he'll think to himself Maybe I should give Kaoru a call to see how he's doing, but then he'll remember that Oh yeah, Kaoru doesn't want or need me anymore.

Then he'll find himself with a syringe in his shaking hands and tears staining his once- pretty cheeks.

So he doesn't pick up the phone.

Or the syringe, for that matter.

He decides he has to get out of this wreck he calls a home and go for a long walk to clear his head. Maybe the night air will do him some good.

Uncaring about people might think, he stalks out of his room, number 312, with the smoke still wedged between his cracked lips.

He pushes the button on the wall and waits impatiently for the elevator to arrive.

When the doors finally slide open he's met with the sight of a young mother with two small children, obviously not getting off on this floor. So he turns around and walks to the stairs. He's not about to make them breathe in the nicotine and he's also not about to put his smoke out before he's finished. What a waste of money that would be.

He snorts to himself as he begins to descend the stairs. Not because it's amusing in any way…but because he's so not used to worrying about money of all things.

Back when he was a kid, money was always there. It didn't matter how many things Hikaru and Kaoru wanted; they got it. All of it. Because money wasn't a problem and their mother was incredibly successful and yadda yadda yadda.

But it's not exactly his dear old mum controlling the purse strings anymore; and Kaoru refuses to give his twin money for that disgusting drug habit of yours. I mean, really, Hikaru?

It's not a habit. It's not a vice or an addiction or a sin.

It's just a want. Perhaps a craving.

But Hikaru Hitatchiin, addicted? Never; he relied on nothing and no one.

(At the thought he squashes the rising feeling of loneliness and doesn't picture the look on Kaoru's face when he found Hikaru smoking a joint in the shower that one time.)

He glares at the doorman as he strides through the lobby like he owns the place (and he might as well considering his sister in law's family runs this hotel chain…which is the only reason he got a room) and cockily blows a puff of smoke right in the affronted man's ugly face.

And then finally he's outside…and he can't breathe.

He wants to go for a long walk, one where he can't think about stuff that's important. A walk where he doesn't have to dwell on what his brother might be doing at the moment.

He just sits directly on the curb in front of the hotel's entrance.

It's almost nine o'clock on a windy February evening. The street is dark, but not dark enough.

Hikaru watches cars fly by, thinking of the people inside them. They must all have somewhere to go, someone to see, something to do.

Unlike him.

A voice in his head he's certain was once his conscience whispers that's your own damn fault.

His and nobody else's.

Because well, he was the one who took the joint Mei had offered him a few years back. He had been at his and Kaoru's graduation party, held at the Hitatchiin mansion of course. He'd caught sight of Tamaki and Haruhi kissing by the piano and decided that it would be a great time for him to disappear.

He sneaked out to the secluded back patio, surprised to find Mei and a few others giggling around one of the circular glass tables.

"Hi," Mei smiled lazily, waving the blunt. Not that he'd known what it was at the time. Ah, he used to be so innocent. It was almost sad. "Congratulations. Want some?"

And the circle of people looked so happy that he accepted the offer without hesitation.

He needed a bit of a distraction.

It all went downhill from there.

Taking one last, long drag from his cigarette, Hikaru crushes the blunt into the cold sidewalk with a sigh.

He really has gone downhill. He's at rock bottom.

He wants to stand up, maybe go back inside and pick up that tantalizing syringe but it's only been eight hours and he wants to see how long he can hold out for.

Because really, he's not addicted. Seriously.

"Hikaru? Hitatchiin Hikaru?"

A shocked voice breaks into his inner monologue. Disinterestedly, he looks up to the sound of the voice.

The only thing even vaguely intriguing about him is the slight Japanese accent. His name was actually pronounced properly for the first time in almost five years.

"Yeah?" He asks in the most bored tone he could muster. All he wants is to be left alone. If it's someone with a Japanese accent, it's someone he really doesn't want to see.

"What are you doing here?" Genuine surprise and concern color the intruder's tone. Hikaru can't see him properly at this angle.

"I live here," he deadpans, standing up and turning to face the person he's carrying on a conversation with.

He almost falls into the gutter.

"Tono!"

He gives his old king a dazzling smile but seems to know better than to offer him a hug. There's something different about him, Hikaru decides, but he can't place his finger on it.

"Fuck me, what are you doing here? Don't you and Haruhi live somewhere in the Okinawa district?" To be honest, he doesn't know where Tamaki lives not having spoken to the man for around four and a half years.

"Not anymore," he says, something flickering in his eyes that is so unlike the Tamaki Hikaru knew that it causes him to shiver. Tamaki's face softens. "Are you cold? You really don't have a sweater on or anything. Do you need a place to crash?"

Hikaru gives him a strange look.

Misreading it, Tamaki starts to ramble. It's what he does best. "I mean, I just moved here about a week ago and the mansion is huge but it's all empty and I never expected to see you around these parts because I heard you were in Dijon and it's so nice to see a familiar face and I-"

"Tono, shut up." Hikaru closes his eyes and counts to ten. He forgot how overbearing his self-proclaimed daddy could be. "Yeah, I'd love to crash at your place but shouldn't you check with Haruhi? I wouldn't want to impose or anything."

More like: I don't want to see how goddamn happy the two of you are without me in your lives. It's even Valentine's Day for Christ's sake. No thank you.

Tamaki winces a little like Hikaru dealt him a physical blow. "You…you don't have to worry about Haruhi. She's still in Japan."

"For how long?" How long can I stay before I have to endure the two of you being all lovey dovey?

"Forever, I think."

A long pause. Tamaki shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking more like the teenager Hikaru remembers.

"I'll go get my stuff," Hikaru finally says and instructs the older man to wait outside while he packs a bag.

He doesn't want Tamaki to see the disaster area he's currently living in.

As quickly as possible, he retrieves his backpack from its precarious perch on the ceiling fan and starts to pile any piece of clothing his hand touches into it. He tosses in necessities like a toothbrush and deodorant before heading out the door.

He looks back. It's still sitting there on the nightstand, taunting him.

After a heated internal debate, Hikaru dives across the room and snatches the syringe, shoving it in the pack with all the other stuff. Just in case.

Not because he's addicted or anything.

He rushes back out and down the stairs, wondering if maybe there were some sort of hallucinogens in his cigarette, and maybe he imagined the whole thing because Tamaki and Haruhi are living in separate countries what the fuck is going on but the blond is still waiting for him when he skids to a halt in front of him, panting slightly.

Tamaki smiles, but Hikaru notices that it's not exactly exuberant and then it clicks.

That's what's missing…that's what's wrong.

His lord isn't happy anymore.

"Shall we go?" the blond asks, gesturing down the now pitch dark street.

Hikaru nods with a flippant little grin. "Lead on, monseigneur Suoh."


Tamaki's house is huge and Hikaru still wants to hate him for it, for still having money, but he can't. Not least because he gets to stay the night in the whitewashed brick mansion. He gives the large rose garden an amused look because it's so Tamaki to have his own rose garden and he probably takes care of it himself because that's the commoner way to do it.

"I told you it's empty," Tamaki laughs self-consciously as they walk through the glass double doors at the front of the house. Hikaru takes in his surroundings and realizes the blond spoke the truth.

There isn't any furniture, or décor, or even moving boxes. He looks into the front room, with a huge bay window and the only thing in there is a grand piano.

"Haruhi made me take that." Tamaki says from behind. Hikaru turns to give his old leader a 'what the fuck is happening' look. Tamaki grimaces. "All I have besides that is a bed and an alarm clock. Until I have the motivation to go furniture shopping, anyway."

"But…why?"

Hikaru is now genuinely confused. Haruhi made him take a piano to France? Huh?

Sighing, Tamaki leads him to a sparkling kitchen and sits on an island stool. Hikaru figures the kitchen came with the house and perches himself on another stool as he lets his backpack crash to the floor.

There's a long silence, in which Hikaru waits impatiently for Tamaki to explain why he's living in France while his wife is in Japan.

Finally, finally, Tamaki says softly "Haruhi…was being kind of distant and I didn't understand why because I was totally being the perfect husband. I had sent flowers to her office every Monday because she hates Mondays and I'd rub her feet every night while we watched Hitotsu Yane No Shita and ate strawberries because, Hikaru, she loves strawberries and-"

"Yeah, yeah I get it. You're amazing," Hikaru can't help the jealousy coloring his tone. "Why are you here?"

The blond gives him an apologetic look and takes a deep breath.

"She's pregnant," he says in a small voice, resting his head in his arms on the island counter.

Hikaru feels anger bubble up inside of him, not helped by the fact that it has now been nine hours since he last took a hit and his nerves are wound up tight.

"So why did you leave?" He grinds out through his teeth. If the bastard up and left Haruhi because she's pregnant…heads will roll.

Tamaki doesn't raise his head when he answers. "I didn't leave. She kicked me out."

Now Hikaru is angry, confused, jealous, and starting to feel the withdrawal symptoms. Not a good mix of emotions at all, especially for the temperamental once red-head.

"Why?"

"Apparently it's not mine."

Which of course makes Hikaru's brain pretty much shut down because what.

Tamaki launches into a long, rambling explanation about how Haruhi somehow fell out of love with him and in love with another guy who got her drunk or something and the next thing she knew she was sleeping with him and Tamaki didn't find out until she came home from work crying her eyes out and said I'm pregnant.

Of course, Tamaki didn't see what was wrong with that - he was ecstatic. Him, a daddy! How exciting!

But then Haruhi told him she was five weeks pregnant and it took him a second with all the mental math that he just wasn't any good at but he figured out what he was trying to say.

He had been away on business that whole week.

"So then she said it would probably best if I moved out and went to France to take care of maman, so that's what I did."

And Hikaru can picture it so clearly. The excitement on Tamaki's face, the tears in Haruhi's eyes, the absolute devastation from the words five weeks pregnant. He doesn't know what to do since he really hasn't been around people for years except for people at parties and clubs, but they usually don't need comforting (and when they do he hightails it outta there).

So all he says, all he knows how to say is "D'you want a joint?" even though he remembers that Tamaki was incredibly opposed to any and all drugs and used to say that he knew some great therapists that could help Hikaru get over his addiction.

It's not an addiction, dammit. He can stop any time he fucking pleases.

He just really doesn't want to.

And so it astounds him when the blond head rises from his arms and the once jubilant voice whispers "Why the hell not?" and the perfectly manicured fingernails reach out in acceptance of Hikaru's offer.

So the brunet reaches into his pack for his bag of weed without question.

He realizes that for such a dramatic change of heart, Tamaki must really be hurting.

But at least now, Hikaru isn't the only one.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Tono."

xx

TBC

xx

note; If you enjoyed it, let me know, but I love constructive criticism like it's my firstborn. Omnomnom.