AN: Yes…I have a million other stories to be updating…and yes I'm procrastinating on them for reasons unknown…but either way please enjoy this oneshot.
Disclaimer: Sadly I did not get the rights to Ouran for Christmas so I still have to write this disclaimer.
Business trip this, conference meeting that. 'I'm sorry but I've got to fly to America in four hours to meet Mr. and Mrs. So and so. They are big investors in the company and without them we can't possibly go on.' 'I can't go out tonight, I need to get this contract read and signed by tomorrow morning because my no good assistant is on vacation with his wife. I think I'll fire him next week.'
To be honest, Haruhi was extremely jealous of the no good assistant's wife. At least her no good husband took her on vacation – most likely somewhere near the beach – and actually wanted to spend time with her. Unlike herself, who remained awake the entire night waiting for her excuse ridden husband to arrive home at some outrageous hour and acknowledge her existence.
That's all it was nowadays. Countless excuses that were losing meaning and going over their expiration date with each passing day. Haruhi knew that marrying into the Ootori family was going to be a sacrifice on her end. But she had assumed that it was more having to renounce her weekly trips to the super market, or her collection of free mechanical pencils. At worst her instant coffee. But none of those compared to the real sacrifice. She had never imagined that when she had gotten married, she was going to have to give up her husband.
Every night it was a new story. Whether it was an investment that had gone dreadfully wrong, or a bank that was threatening to sue them for everything they owned; it didn't matter, because there was always a justification, some radical explanation as to why he was late or busy. But you know, for having so many financial issues, Haruhi was exceptionally interested in how the company was always able to pull though and come out on top without a struggle. Something didn't add up in Haruhi's own little black book. The very same book that Kyoya seemed to have glued to his forehead.
Even after graduating and becoming a successful businessman, Kyoya Ootori was never quite able to shake that secretive black book of his and force it into retirement. You would think that Haruhi now knew what undisclosed information the book of mystery held, but she was still clueless. She and Kyoya had a non-spoken mutual agreement that anything involving Kyoya's work – including the book – was strictly off limits. Of course when she saw it carelessly thrown on his desk in plain sight, Haruhi was always tempted to take a peak. But there was something about the Demon Lord's reputation that always kept her curiosity at bay.
That was another argument. Why were there so many secrets? Haruhi thought that getting married meant revealing everything. Sharing the pain and happiness that each other possessed. Expressing the deepest and darkest of your fears, and reveling in the desperate ambitions of one another. Putting every insignificant tidbit of information out in the open on a silver platter and praying and pleading and cross your fingers and while you're at it your heart, hope to dieing that the other accepted it. That's at least what Haruhi had grown up believing.
Apparently in Kyoya's eyes that was all one absurd joke. Nothing was shared besides complaints and news about how horribly everything in the company and the world in general was running. Whether it was a business venture falling though, or politicians screwing up the economy with their unbelievable doses of stupidity; there was always something to complain about. That's what irked Haruhi the most. All of the constant pessimism. Back in high school Haruhi would identify it as bluntness. Kyoya titled it living as a realist. But now Haruhi just brushed it aside and titled him and his actions as one single word. Jackass.
And after a year of this it was hard to consider the reasons of why she had not yet called it quits. By now her mind could and should have realized – or at least questioned – the motives behind the marriage. Maybe it was all a scam or possibly a promotional ad? Even the idea of being used should have been enough for her to pack her bags and get the first taxi out.
But she gave it a few more weeks. Weeks turned into months, months morphed into a few more, and before you could say "Ouran Academy" she was back at a year and had little, next to no progress with her supposed husband. But for some reason she couldn't bring herself to leave him.
Each time the thought was aroused in her mind she remembered high school. Back when she would silently admire Kyoya while she would be entertaining her own guests. His dark eyes that were always so calm and calculating. His ability to make her fall for him without even realizing it. That alone was enough to convince her to stay, but then the memories would devolve into deeper more detailed flashes of her past.
In those bursts of randomness when the twins would drag her away somewhere against her will, she would always pretend that it was Kyoya who was with her instead of her true captors. When Tamaki would fawn over her in his loving make-believe fatherly way, she would constantly look over him and tried her hardest to catch a glimpse of her actual love interest. Oh sure there were bets about who Haruhi would be with during and after high school. Almost every time Tamaki came in first, followed by Hikaru. But in truth neither ever truly appealed to her. Sure Tamaki and Hikaru were funny and they were great friends. But that's all they ever were going to be to her.
There was the one exception when for a short time she had thought that she loved Tamaki. She had been taken in by his crystal eyes and playful act. She was put into a trance and had sworn to herself that whatever theatrical game of petty romance he was playing was love. But that ridiculous crush of foolishness ended almost as abruptly as it had begun.
The short-lived high-school days went on, and the never ceasing bets and jokes forged on with a vengeance. Emotions, lust, jealousy, and absentminded thoughts melted together to create the awkward and disturbing rollercoaster that people call high-school; and through it all nothing ever once fully shook off Haruhi's feelings for the Demon Lord. There was something about him that made it unimaginable for her not to want him. His cool demeanor, his use of common sense, maybe it was the way he was so reserved and private. There were so many factors that could have played with her adolescent affections for the mysterious man, and all of them were irresistible. In fact they still were.
She could still summon up the daydreams that she had concocted of Kyoya Ootori and herself when she was still a young student. She couldn't do it without a horrible blush appearing on her face but she could do it none the less. Looking back it was actually embarrassing, her fascination with her husband. In reality she wasn't that much different then any one of his past overly enthused fan girls that she had once loathed with a burning passion. Well, everything besides the fact that during the time that they were openly expressing their feelings, she was dressed as a boy and had to deal with her own set of giggling admirers.
Everyday she had secretly watched from a distance, trying her hardest not to be too conspicuous and reveal herself. She didn't know if she'd be able to live with herself if he ever found out how much she loved him. He'd reject her in a heartbeat, or at the very least think it was some stupid joke. She didn't want him concluding that she was just another silly girl with a fictional dream of wooing the unattainable. That was her biggest fear back then...Kyoya Ootori's rejection. Well it was a tie between that and thunderstorms.
A shrill knock against the door instantaneously wrenched Haruhi out of her reminiscing and lugged her unwillingly back into reality.
Kyoya didn't bother to wait for her response as he opened the door to their bedroom. It was a mistake too, because he walked in on her applying make-up, a task that she never did unless she was desperately trying to impress him. Well, no sense trying to talk his way out. Besides, she would only see right though his meticulous word games if he did try them on her.
He decided to be straightforward. "Haruhi I won't be able to go out to dinner with you tonight." Even with his fancy persuasive skills Kyoya was never one to beat around the bush, and Haruhi was a pretty no nonsense woman. And right now she was defiantly no nonsense. Her eyes held sharpened daggers.
Haruhi had moved on from cosmetics to jewelry, and placed the black dangly earring she had been putting in down on her vanity table next to the various tubes and bottles of concealer, eye-shadow, blush, and gloss.
Every time she went out with Kyoya he either questioned why she didn't wear make-up, or he mocked her amateur style of applying it.
So tonight she had made an exception. The one time when she actually had tried her hardest to please him with her appearance, he comes last minute and ingenuously declines the planned invitation. How cocky could one bastard get? But still, Haruhi knew that the best way to avoid a fight was to be as reasonable as she could. However in her eyes, this was not the time to be reasonable.
"Why not," It wasn't a question…it was an accusation.
Kyoya didn't waste a moment in hesitation. "I have a dinner date that I can not cancel. Mr. Akira is in town tonight for a conference and it might be my only chance for him to sign the budgeting deal. I can't risk losing this investment. I'm sorry it's on such short notice, his secretary only called an hour ago."
"You're telling me," Haruhi's voice dropped to a temperature below freezing. "That you are calling off our date. The same date that has been rescheduled nine times, and in this case has been set for two months." Haruhi was proud in the manner of how well she was controlling her anger, but she knew it wasn't going to last long.
"I'm sorry but you know how important Mr. Akira's contribution is to the company. I thought you were sensible enough to understand that the responsibility and dedication I have to my company is more important then an impractical date."
"That's not the fucking point!"
And that was the limit of her control.
Kyoya was slightly, if not fully taken aback. Never in their three years together, two of which they were married, had Haruhi ever snapped at him like that, or used such blunt language that was directed specifically at him.
Haruhi had regained her volume control, but she was now speaking in a tone that didn't belong to her. It was icy, frozen, and sharp enough to cut though the thickest of egos. "The company is more important then an impractical date? I think what you mean to say is that the company is more important then your impractical wife."
"You are blowing this out of proportion." Kyoya defended. And not so surprisingly Haruhi came back with a rebuttal.
"No I am not. In fact what I'm saying is a twisted understatement. Kyoya Ootori, I have tried to be patient. I've been more then understanding and a little bit too considerate. In fact the only thing remotely impractical about me, is how damn idiotic I've been to let these stunts go on this long. I'm sick and tired of you leaving me in the dark about everything. I find it very hard to believe that every second of every day you have to engage yourself fully into your company. That you need to stay late every night and keep me waiting, wondering when you'll come home. Or that you can't find an ounce of free time to spend with me. Or perhaps the part where you're the only person there with responsibilities…and a wife. No. Fucking. Way." The last words were less spoken and more hissed from clenched teeth.
The cold heartless voice that Haruhi's body had taken on sent chills down Kyoya's spine; but he just stood there and continued to listen, not allowing a flicker of emotion to cross his face. This only enraged Haruhi more.
"I don't think I ask for much. All I wanted was for us to spend one night together. One fucking damn night. But no…dinner is too much to ask from you. You'd rather spend time with some old rich bastard then your wife. Actually…," Haruhi wasn't sure whether to say what she wanted to, but before she knew it the words were out.
"Actually I'm sure that you'll be much happier going out with the slut of a bitch you have waiting for you at some sleazy bar then spend a night with me."
Haruhi raced out of the bedroom before Kyoya had time to react. She was going to simply move to a vacant room and possibly cry her eyes out, but her feet redirected her to the front doors of the Ootori estate and sent her straight out of them.
They continued carrying her down the long stone pathway that guided her from the front stairs of the mansion to the open road which she took on happily. With the cover of night, clad in a tight green dress that she had worn because it was Kyoya's favorite, and strappy high-heels that were next to impossible to walk in but made Kyoya happy, escorted herself in the opposite direction of her excuse ridden, jackass acting, bastard of a husband.
She walked down the cement road that was artificially lit by glowing streetlamps refusing to look back. Because for two years that had been her fatal mistake. She had looked back and saw only the memories and love that she had for the man that she had married. She knew something was broken when she saw it, but his words of persuasion kept her close to him and continued feeding her a false illusion of perfection. She had heard somewhere that love is blind, but if she didn't look back, then she couldn't have her sight taken away. If she didn't look back, she would only be able to see the light ahead, and marvel at a world where she was free.