!!!EDIT!!! I changed around the end of the chapter because I noticed that I messed up on the present-tense and the first-person point-of-view that I was trying to capture so hardly in this. I hope it's a smoother read at the end now.

Disclaimer: Ouran High Host Club belongs to Bisco-san, while Me & The Minibar belongs to The Dresden Dolls (GO LISTEN TO IT!!!)

Warning: Boy-love, as usual, but it's one-sided in this….Oh, and character death….Which is also a given when talking about my fics haha

PS: Constructive criticism and even flames would be greatly appreceated :D

-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-h-k-

I sit on the bed in the hotel room below yours, waiting for you to come down like I had asked you to. I know that it's the night before your wedding, and that you were having a party up there when I asked you to, but… But it was important, and I told you that too.

"Please come to my room at 10, brother, it'll mean the world to me…" I told you before I left. A short, quick whisper into your ear, and that was it. You looked at me, questioning, but I didn't say anything else as I left. It was probably bothering you that you couldn't tell what was going through my head.

But then again, how long has it been since you could tell what I was thinking? 'Since she came into the picture, right?' I thought to myself, bitterly.

I look over to the table where two dinners are sitting, cold and untouched. I was waiting for you to eat with me. I ordered them around ten minutes before you were meant to come, and they arrived just in time for you not to be on time.

Or better yet, they came in your place, because you haven't showed up at all. It's 11 already, too. You're an hour late, that's not like you. Being the older one, you were always the one who never really seemed to, but was very keen on never being late to anything.

I sigh, shake my head a bit, and get up off the bed. I go over to the fridge and open it to see a bunch of bottles of hard liquor in it. In all honesty, I'm not that much of a fan of any type of alcohol, so I didn't give much of a say in it when Kyoya asked me what I would "like to have".

I just told him that I wanted something that would get me pretty damned smashed, pretty damned quick. He understood what I meant by it, and he understood why I needed it. He was the only one, really. Makes some sense, seeing how he's "mother" and all. I laugh a little at the little joke from our school days…

But he knows that there's nothing in this world that's harder to do than for me to be up there tomorrow, standing next to my dear brother as his best man while he watches her with that look, the one that he should be looking at me with.

Only Kyoya knows, so he didn't see any problem with getting me such hard liquor.

I place one of the bottles onto the top of the small fridge and reach over to the stack of wrapped, plastic cups. I take a couple ice cubes and re-grab the bottle and start to wander over to the table with the forgotten food, musing on how a younger me would be scoffing at all of the "commoner" things that I had encountered within that last couple of minutes.

I sit down in one of the chairs and place the bottle onto the table and concentrate on unwrapping the glass cup for the moment. When I finish with that I unscrew the cap off of the liquor and fill the cup up three-fourths the way, then plop the cubes into it.

I take a sip; it's very bitter and actually has quite a nasty taste all together, but after another few sips I sighed, picked the ice cubes out, and tossed them into the plate of cold food in front of me. I take a few breaths to ready myself, then I down the whole damned glass of clear, liquid vile. It feels like my throat burns on the way down, but I don't really care.

After my third glass, I can really start to feel the difference. I can't tell if that's the normal reaction or if it was just me being a poor drinker, but it doesn't matter as I unbutton the top four or five on my white dress shirt. My head's spinning and the room is way hotter, way stuffier than it was before.

For some reason, I suddenly remember all the times when he had told me that he loved, me that he couldn't live without me, that the world would mean nothing without me… I shake my head; those days were over. It wasn't anything but a phase for him. He grew up, he grew out; I got left behind though. It wasn't a phase for me, I did love him, and I still do…

I turn to look at the microwave behind me to see that it's already half past 11. He wasn't coming; it was obvious to me now for some reason. (Was it because of the alcohol? Yet again it was another thing where I couldn't tell.)

I tilt my head up, as if looking at the ceiling would let me hear the room above me clearer, and I can still hear them all having careless fun up there. I can hear people running, laughing, crashing, a thud, and even more laughing. They were having the time of their lives up there, and they had no idea. Not even "mom". Maybe he doesn't understand me quite as much as I thought he did.

If they only knew… They would all be disgusted with me. They'd hate me for feeling the way I felt, and they'll hate me for wanting to do what I was going to do.

I stand up and walk over to the bureau over by the bed and open the top drawer. I rummage through it for a few minutes, when my fingertips touch something cold. I wrap my fingers around it and pull it out. A simple, plain-old hand gun. Boring-- yet perfectly appropriate.

He was going to go far in life, and he was so far ahead of me. I was so far behind, and I couldn't ever even dream to catch up without his help- that of which I'm no longer entitled to ask for. Its her's to ask for now, and they sure were going to get far with each other.

Just thinking about it makes me want to puke.

I check the bullets- or bullet, rather, just in case there really is some lunatic out there who thinks that they have the right to be damned with me. I look at the clock on the microwave again, it's five after twelve.

I take a seat at the foot of the bed and sigh, noticing that my shirt was gone. When did I take that off? Oh well. I start to hum that strange, American birthday tune, and when I got to the near-end, I instead call out my own little amused, yet depressed, announcement in a sing-song voice.

"Happy birthday, us…" And with that, I raise the gun to the temple of my head with my right hand. I look out of the corner of my eye to my doorway to see you standing there with the door wide open behind you. You look terrified, and I see you push someone who's behind you gently, as if trying to hide them.

"What's wrong, Hikaru-kun?" is all I need to hear to know just who is there. You know that I don't like her, that must be why you were trying to hide her. And to think that for a second I had hoped that I had simply imagined you lovingly trying to protect someone.

I grin and turn so that I'm facing you completely. I can hear the others coming from down the hall. You say my name cautiously; my arms are hanging limply by my sides. You takes a step toward me; I fling my arms open wide as if to welcome you and fifteen other people in for a hug, the gun still in my right hand. You flinch, your eyes flash between my face and the gun in my hand, then back again.

You're trying to find a way to get it away from me, aren't you…? How… Stupid. My smile softens into a sad, regretful one. My left arm goes lip and my right hand goes to my head. "Happy birthday… us…" I say, half-heartedly.

You're running toward me as I pull the trigger, there's a loud bang and a scream.

And then there was nothing.

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DK: I know that I should have been writing A Boy's Life, and not this silly one-shot (with possible hopes of a companion chapter if anyone is interested enough), but after reading Host Club, seeing Kaoru and Hikaru's relationship, and listening to "Me & The Minibar" by The Dresden Dolls one too many times, I couldn't help myself hehe ::sweatdrop::

Please review : )