It is often a topic of serious debate, on what exactly is love. Or at least what is affection, mutual feelings, attraction. When can one be sure exactly what these odd emotions and bursts of irrationality bring, and when can one be brave enough to follow through? And what exactly do these dreams mean, these fantasies that come about in a relatively random streak of teenage lust? Why did this whole business have to be complicated? In fact, why couldn't it be treated as such? Why can't you manage the adolescent annoyances as such, dismiss it as another loss for the CEO or just a luxury that couldn't fit into the budget? If only you could so easily sever the ties that held a single person to another, those damned iron clutches surrounding your person of interest. If only it were that simple…

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He always remembered the smell. It was rich of heart, poor of taste. Blessed with hopes, cursed with disappointment. Bitter yet sweet, safe yet dangerous, happy yet sad. The list of paradoxes could go on, but then again, this was a dream. Leave it to Kyouya Ohtori to still be calculating, drawing up numerous wordplays to describe a single smell. For he wasn't satisfied with minty, or flowery, or cinnamony or whatever else description you could throw at him that ended with a "y". During one of his dreams he had the freedom to run it however he wanted, have it described however he wished it. The more he can convince himself that this dream was, in reality, just a way to run his subconscious during several completed REM cycles, the better. And that all was because he hated his dreams and the smell it resurfaced.

As the youngest Ohtori settled into another night of peaceful rest, he couldn't help but let his mind resume the thinking process it so dearly loved. Under his silken dark blue sheets, the shade of the night sky outside his two-story window, Kyouya let his mind wander. It seemed he was losing more and more control of it lately, and that would surely not do. Here he was vying for the role of heir to the family fortune with two other brothers, and there he would find his mind drifting, to a sea of blank thoughts. He had to have been thinking about something, otherwise he couldn't well call it thinking could he? It just was that his body would be poised, hands at the ready, hunched over his beloved pineapple laptop, eyes focused intently on the flickering screen in front of him. But that would be where the façade ended. He really wasn't calculating club profit or scheduling appointments and activities the seven teens always seemed to be doing. No, he was just thinking about nothing. But like he said before, he had to have been thinking about something. Or it wasn't thinking at all!

Frustrated, the raven-haired teen shrugged off his silk sheets, letting out an audible huff as he flipped over in the bed. He buried his face in the pillow, the soft crush barely heard of the luxury clothed cushion a soothing noise to his ears. Yet it didn't help entirely, for he was still stuck in his current dilemma. He had just spent an entire inner monologue within his mind that got him absolutely nowhere! The great Shadow King was losing the focus and intent he was legendary for, and instead having his thoughts flit around, to unnecessary and frivolous ideas. And he blamed it entirely on the stupid dream he kept having, and that smell.

The dream always started out the same, with Kyouya just walking down a perfectly normal hallway during a perfectly normal school day. He would turn a corner, black notebook tucked under him, fully prepared to deal with yet another afternoon of the host club's idiocies. He would turn the handle, and the fine painted door would swing open. Yet here was where things changed direction, and instead of the third music room in Kyouya's line of vision, it was a single field of grass, paved with a lone stone pathway. He would walk, following the stone lane. For whatever reason why was beyond the boy's comprehension at the moment. Then, after about ten feet of steps, he would halt, the rocky edge of a ravine greeting him. He had walked to a cliff, in what was supposedly the third music room, if he opened the right door. And he did, and still, for whatever reason, didn't question the highly improbable turn of events. So there he would stand, notebook still in tow, the stones cutting off at the edge. The sun was still shining, and all his senses were suspended, he was trapped in a state of surreal focus. Then, this would be the part of the dream where the wind would pick up.

It was a gentle breeze, not strong enough to tip the glasses-clad student over to the bottom of the cavernous ravine. It was a gentle breeze, one that Kyouya hated. For it brought along that smell, a scent he both yearned for and despised. Could you even categorize something like that, was he making any sense? The boy was trapped in his dream, face paling as the aroma blew in closer and closer, wrapping him in its smothering embrace. The tendrils wrapped around him, his arms crushed to his side. Yet he still didn't scream, he didn't want to. Air was forced out of his lungs, his head rolled back, so the blue sky was above him. He still didn't let out one syllable, one noise. Because of that smell, that horrid smell, it was entrancing him, and also killing him. So the higher he would go, the scented cloud lifting the boy, dragging him over the cliff's end. His notebook for some reason fell out of his grasp, and down it fluttered, the beloved pages ripping and scattering, as the wind tore at the binding. But Kyouya kept on staring blankly up, an expression of dumb-founded wonder even evident on his features. Which was just another reason why Kyouya hated his dream. It painted him as the utterly lost and emotionally detached being he knew he was, under his veil of shadows. And as the grip loosened on his torso, his legs flailing helplessly over the abyss, all Kyouya was able to register was the smell.

That nauseating aroma, he hated it. And he still loved it. Which was why Kyouya didn't flinch as the tendrils were swept away, suspending him in mid-air above his plummet to death. He didn't inch away as a lone hand, fingers long and winding, smooth as a pebble, came to his shoulder. He leaned it to the touch, as the hand gripped him, sliding down to his arm. He allowed his eyes to close, not feeling the need to gag anymore at that stench, that captivating air. For it was now engulfing him again, the more Kyouya sank into the figure's embrace. He felt another arm reach up, and it gently ruffled his normally well-kept hair, of which Kyouya paid no heed. He was drowning, he was slowly losing his battle. And the figure beside him only uttered one word, in a musical lilt of a voice, so foreign, yet so familiar. "YoYo-chan," she whispered, her lips kissing the boys temple, before letting go, dropping him to the darkness below.

With a hitched breath Kyouya sprung up, pillows flung across the edge of the bed. His sheets were tossed around, as if he were struggling in his sleep, and his forehead was wet. His shaky hand was pressed against his brow, eyes wide and staring into the now familiar nothingness. His body was only shaking due to his gasping breaths, trying to calm himself down. That didn't end how it was supposed to, there wasn't supposed to be a voice. There was the smell, and the cliff, and the falling. He blinked, gulping down another shuddering breath. That voice, it wasn't supposed to be there. He wasn't supposed to think about it. He closed his onyx eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose while doing so, trying to find some sense in the matter. Still breathing deeply, the youngest Ohtori was clearly in a state of unease, for something last night went horribly wrong. He was in charge of his dreams, he was to have the same one every night. He had had the same one every night, since a few weeks back. Granted he didn't enjoy it, but at least he was given some preparation to deal with it. But now, with that new ending, it seemed remaining ignorant to the reason why he started to have these dreams, it only made it worse. The alarm next to him only now going off gave him further reason for alarm. It caused him to wake up early, that could not be.

As the metal box on top of his night table screamed, he reached out with his free arm, slamming it off with some overdue force. The crunch of internal gears barely fazed him, as he stumbled off his bed, trying to get ready for school. He had to shove this dream back behind his façade, he had to become the Shadow King. He couldn't show his face to the host club with a racing heart, eyes wide with, not fear, unrest. Yes. He nodded to himself, slowly trying to reassure his still jittering nerves. So he had a dream, that ended differently, that didn't have just a smell, but a-

No, he had to stop thinking about it. In a flash Kyouya was dressed in the Ouran uniform, black school bag tucked under his arm as he walked out the mini-apartment that was basically his room. His steps echoed in the very modern and sleek chrome walls of the mansion, his head held up high. He managed to get his glasses on, and now felt immediately safer, a little more at ease. With his glasses he was able to hide from the world, keep the, not fear, tension away from everyone.

Kyouya walked out, deciding he wasn't one for breakfast anyways at the moment. He would just have a large lunch at school, this he decided as the youngest Ohtori bent down to enter the limo, its door shut firmly closed after by the chauffeur. All was going like usual, and Kyouya settled in for a normal day at school. His dream was but a nagging afterthought in the maze of calculations that was his mind, or at least that was what he kept telling himself, as he tried furtively to get that voice, that word, out of his conscious thought. He glanced out the shaded windows of his limo, the buildings he passed familiar after years of driving by them. With his notebook in tow, the black notebook, he tapped out his knuckles on its surface, to a tune nonexistent. Here he was losing his train of thought again, and he couldn't realize it himself.

After he stepped out, the limo now pulled up at the school, Kyouya still was trying to feel "normal" again, trying to feel like the Shadow King he knew he was. He shuffled by the usual crowds of students gathered at the foyer inside, and proceeded up the red-velvet staircase, to the upper floors. For someone who didn't know him well, they couldn't say anything was off with the Ohtori child today. His opaque glasses succeeded in shielding his blank-slate eyes, his jacket covering the slight tremors racking through his spine. If he told anyone they would just smile nervously, wondering if the Shadow King was trying to pull a joke. Kyouya Ohtori nervous, shaken up? Unfathomable. It couldn't be true, it was just another cold defense put up to throw off the competition.

And as the boy stepped into his first hour class, sliding into his usual third row, second desk from the left seat, he didn't feel any better. That fleeting thought apparently had more impact than it should have. So who cares if people couldn't take his, not fear, occasional awkwardness seriously? Why would he even want to confide in someone about this, about those dreams? It was to be something he should keep to himself, a problem he would work out on his own. That was how Kyouya was brought up to deal with life, so might as well use that to his advantage.

But of course, Kyouya being in the state of mind he was currently in, he forgot all about the blonde-haired idiot who sat next to him on the left. One of two of the only people in the world who could read through his carefully constructed façade. So Kyouya used this time to scribble aimlessly notes on what the teacher was currently droning on about. Even when he was, not scared, restless, the boy could still pay attention in class. A feat many, like his best friend who was currently trying to get his attention, couldn't understand.

"Psst!" And right on cue, Tamaki was trying to talk to Kyouya. "Psst! Mother!" The pen in Kyouya's grasp tightened slightly on his black ink, marble, ballpoint pen, as he raised his head slightly, and giving the pest of a friend an impeccable nod. Better to be interested early in what Tamaki said, then ignore him and pay the price of further humiliation. "Mother, what is wrong?" "What could you possibly mean Father?" Kyouya answered him in a near whisper, calling him father strictly for the reason it would appease the idiotic fantasies of the blonde.

"It's, your, your face." Kyouya felt an eyebrow twitch. "It's just that, it's like you're fuming about something inside, or worried." Tamaki dropped his arms on the desk, resting his chin atop. It seemed he was pouting now. Kyouya felt some amusement on the inside. Leave it to Tamaki to act melodramatically in any circumstance. With a sigh he tilted his head towards Tamaki, careful to have his glasses glare like usual. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine." He slipped the blonde a trusty smirk, to give him some sense of calm "I just was woken up too early. A new maid we hired didn't know any better." He waved his hand, smirk still plastered. "I made sure to fire her before I left for school though, I can't very well have a maid like that right?" And it seemed Tamaki took this explanation for now.

Kyouya glanced up above the teacher's head, the standard-Ouran ornate gold clock displaying the time. Thankfully there was only but five minutes left in class. Then he wouldn't have to worry about explaining himself in front of his friend until the end of school. If he knew Tamaki, it was that his current explanation wouldn't put off his questions, so he needed all the time he could receive. Plenty of time hopefully, to conjure up a reasonable explanation on his current behavior, in front of Tamaki and Haruhi.

The bell rang just then, jolting the youngest Ohtori out of his thoughts, and brining upon him a new wave of, not fear, nervous tension. As he bustled out, bag and notebook in tow, Kyouya's mind was in a flurry of thought. The latter person to trick was going to be a challenge. All because Haruhi was the girl who could see through any trick or illusion he would pull, and just shatter those defenses without a thought. He would never admit it, but Haruhi Fujoka was a case onto himself.

He often wondered, at least when his mind was focused, why this girl could so easily understand the Shadow King. It was almost like she was a light to his darkness, one who so bluntly and without a care it would seem like, strip him naked of all mystery and ulterior motives he could possibly have. But her "power", it didn't anger him. On the contrary, it amused him, sparked within him an air of curiosity, of anticipation. Oftentimes when she was in his company, during the Host Club, he would make it a game within himself, what would she do next, who she would astound first. Her actions, her telling off his father at the last Ouran Festival, this only raised his interest in the brown-haired commoner exponentially.

A nagging voice at the back of his head made sure to get his attention though, as Kyouya slid into the seat of his next class. Thankfully it was host club free, so Kyouya wouldn't have to worry about holding his own here.

Better be careful there Kyouya boy, don't fall in too deep.

Fall in too deep of what, dare I ask?

Just remember, the last time you allowed yourself.

Kyouya shook his head, eyebrows raised. Was this another consequence of his dreams? The inability to even understand his own thoughts? The teacher here had been lecturing already, and the preoccupied boy hadn't even bothered to open his notebook. Students around were sneaking quick glances, not believing that the first ranked student in their year was ignoring the teacher, for the first time. Ever.

The last time I allowed myself to what? You understand you're making no sense as of late.

Tsk, tsk. Trying to repress memories already? Studies say that's bad for you.

Repressing what? Unless you become clearer, I'm afraid you've lost me.

Clearer? This is your own mind talking to you! You are going off the deep end I'm afraid.

Kyouya resisted the urge to snort in disagreement. So even his own mind was going against him. Lovely, for what had started this mental debate this time?

You thinking about Haruhi did! His traitorous mind retorted back in response.

Kyouya blinked, a hand going up to adjust his glasses. Haruhi did this. That's right. Well, he couldn't afford to think about her anymore. His current state of mind grew to an excited state when he did so, and therefore it simply would be disadvantageous to do so. Just stop thinking about her. Hand still on his glasses, he nodded. Simple enough.

Unfortunately the teacher, an elderly Englishman Mr. Whitmore didn't share in Kyouya's resolution. The students glancing around, snickering, and a top-rank student not taking notes?! This was something the stickler for education couldn't tolerate. He cleared his throat, the pointer stick he has a teacher still used slapped on the fawn brown oak desk.

"Mr. Ohtori, dare I ask what you are thinking about during my precious class time?"

Yes, if I ignore her, then it would solve one of my problems. I still need to keep up appearances, so I need to shove this whole business with my bothering dreams and Haruhi away. Later I will evaluate the situation and see exactly why these two problems are so distracting now.

"Mr. Ohtori?!"

But if you do that Kyouya boy, aren't you simply just brushing your problems away, to not think about them? You surely have to know that the dreams and feelings are getting worse, and stronger, the more you not stop to think about them?

The students, now no longer trying to pay attention to Mr. Whitmore, were all turned around in their seats, stares focused on the unfazed Ohtori, who clearly had a mind elsewhere. Whispers floated around the room, the fellow students not believing that Kyouya was, ignoring the teacher. What had gotten into him? Grins rose on all their faces though, the stately man walked up the middle row, now standing next to Kyouya's desk. He cleared his throat, trying very hard to control his temper. There had to be a reason, Kyouya never not paid attention. It was impossible.

Why don't you just stop speaking for me, and scurry away to my inner sub-conscious? Obviously the place where you belong! I will think through my problems at a better time, I assure you. Although why I have to appease my own mind is something I don't exactly know why.

Fine, have it your way. But just a bit of friendly neighbor advice? PAY ATTENTION IN CLASS!

He snapped his head back up, glasses slightly askew. If one didn't know any better, you would think you just saw Kyouya Ohtori pale at the sight of the teacher next to him. But most didn't, so of course Kyouya Ohtori wasn't scared. He was just surprised.

He straightened up, hand raised again to correctly position his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He needed his shield, especially now. "Yes Mr. Whitmore?" The teacher next to him fumed, hand clenched tighter on the stick. No, this boy had not just addressed him in a tone of feigned interest, in a tone of boredom! "Mr. Ohtori! As I was trying to so vehemently address, what pray tell, can you be thinking about that's more important than my current lesson?" Kyouya met the gaze of the teacher, mind twisting in overdrive.

The rest of this scene played out in a blur, for the next thing Kyouya could distinctly remember was the teacher proceeding to yell at him, students snickering, and the bell ringing to signal the end of the disaster this class had become. The students filed out, awe-struck, with a very satisfied Mr. Whitmore presiding at the front of the room, pointer stick tapped out on the desk in satisfaction. As for Kyouya, the boy was lifting up his bag, mind completely blank. If he was in a state to ponder though, he would most likely be asking why, and how. Had these recent problems really thrown him off, into the "deep-end" as his inner voice so eloquently put it before?

"Remember, after school today be here Mr. Ohtori. I'll be waiting." Kyouya barely gave a nod of confirmation, as he stepped out into the spacious hallway. His path was cleared as he advanced the hushed students in disbelief. This recent development involving the glasses-clad boy would be spread like wildfire and heavens knows how this would affect profit for the host club.

For the first time in his life Kyouya had received, detention. And he had not been able to talk his way out of it, that was what scared, no, puzzled him the most. Simply for not paying attention in class he was subject to staying in an empty classroom after school let out. What would that teach him exactly? Apparently his jailor already had a reason why, for why else would he near demand the boy to attend?

As he walked down the hall, lost in a near daze, he could only cringe inwardly on how the host club, and more importantly his father would accept the news. Not that his father would care probably. It would be dismissed as inevitable, for surely the youngest child couldn't have lived up to the perfect expectations of his elder brothers.

Of course not, what was I thinking? Kyouya thought this bitterly, hands clenched on his bag and notebook. Something was wrong, very much so. It seemed he was slowly losing his mind.

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"WHERE IS MOTHER!?!!" Tamaki near screeched out to the other present host club members, who flinched in return. The blonde was in a near state of panic, rushing around the room as he often did when Haruhi was the victim of his worry. But Haruhi for once wasn't the one being yelled about, she instead was leaning against one of the many small tea tables that were placed around the room. The Host Club was scheduled to be opened today, according to Kyouya's calendar. But then, where was he? She bit her lip, resisting the urge to yell out at Tamaki. Kyouya missing a day of business, it was unheard of. Something had to be wrong, and she was surprised to find that this thought unnerved her so much.

The rest of the group seemed to be worried, but in their own way. Huni was busy at a lone table, stuffing cake down and only pausing every few seconds to exchange some words with Mori. He didn't seem to be that upset. Perhaps he knew something the others didn't, but didn't feel the need to divulge it yet. And the twins, they were just prancing around, seemingly glad that the stickler to their pranks wasn't here. Off they went chasing poor Tamaki around, who was all but calm. As they passed her table for the nth time, Haruhi narrowed her eyes, arms lashing out at the collar of the closer twin, Karou.

"What are you hiding?" Haruhi had on the face of a stern mother, as if to replace the empty spot in their host club. Karou, the meeker twin, naturally gave the girl a shaky smile. "Why would you think something is wrong? Can me and my brother not be allowed to have some fun?" Then, out of nowhere, it seemed Hikaru sprouted up next to the captured Karou, and laid a hand on his arm, dragging him close to his own worried face. "Karou, she's just worried. Imagine if you were missing without a trace dear brother."

They weren't even open and their stupid brotherly love act was still going strong. Haruhi bunched her eyebrows together, eyes glaring at the now hugging brothers in front of her. They had sparkles and everything, how did they do that?! But now was not the time to ask, for just as soon as she realized Karou slipped out of her grasp with no answer, Huni and Mori, now both standing were making their way out the door. Tamaki was still running. "MOTHER!!!!"

Huni skipped around, to address the others. "Me and Taka-chan are just going home now. He has kendo practice to go to. So," Huni looked up at Mori, the stoic figure who only nodded in agreement. "So, I guess I should just say that you shouldn't be worried about Kyo-chan. He's okay, he'll just come a little late." With a final wave the two seniors left the room without a second glance. Huni was only heard by Haruhi, the only sane and quiet member left in the room.

"Eh? Huni-sempai?" She only half heard him though, with the twins still going at it in front of her. All she was able to collect was something about kendo, and Kyouya, and to not be worried? An eyebrow was raised quizzically, as Tamaki, still not out of breath, was yelling and running across the room. Kyouya is at kendo and not be worried? She shook her head, taking care to kick the two red-heads in the shin as she passed. She wondered why she stuck around half the time.

She was on her way to the door, to leave the idiots to their actions, when from behind two pairs of arms grabbed her, by the shoulders. Now familiar with the twin's antics she all but yawned as two hopping Hitachin twins grinned evilly at her.

Hikaru turned to his brother, eyes gleaming. "Did Haruhi just, kick us dear brother?" Karou, already in the act, gave a small chuckle. "Yes, yes she did. I say we should punish her." Hikaru nodded, and the two instantly dropped to the floor, Haruhi plopped down on the tile surface as if she were just a sack of rice balls. "Hey! What did you do that for?!" It was odd for the twins to actually be that rough, and Haruhi was a little nervous now. If they truly did know where Kyouya was at, as Huni and Mori did most likely, then that means they would know exactly how much they could get away with.

It didn't go unnoticed by anyone in the host club, except for Tamaki, how much Kyouya did end up saving Haruhi from the twin's clutches. Haruhi, being oblivious, thought it only as so they wouldn't distract customers. The twins saw Kyouya spoiling their fun with Haruhi as just that, spoiling their fun. It seemed only Huni and Mori, agreeably, knew exactly why Kyouya seemed to want to have Haruhi freed from the twins, as of late. It amused the seniors to know end that Kyouya himself didn't seem to understand the exact toll and message his actions left. Although Kyouya did seem to be off, these past few weeks. But of course only Huni and Mori knew of this.

So Haruhi had ample reason to be scared. Without Kyouya here, and Tamaki still in a state of hysterics, as "MOTHER!!!!!!!!" was still echoing across the fine-painted room, the twins menacing glares did nothing to calm her nerves. "H-Hikaru, K-Karou. What do you know?" She squirmed, for Hikaru had pinned Haruhi down, straddling her knees, and Karou was at the top, holding down her arms in a near vice-grip. "Or more importantly, what are you going to do?"

Hikaru tsked at the girl. "Why is Haruhi so means to us? Can she really hate our acts of love so much brother?" "I don't know Hikaru, but I do know that we must give Haruhi a fitting punishment. Didn't our mother just design a new dress?" "Or yes, trimmed with lace and pink. Isn't it off the shoulder too?" "Don't forget that it's mid-thigh length too!" "Oh yes! Haruhi needs to model it for us then!" "Of course!"

Only for Haruhi would her torture and punishment be forced to wear an expensive girlish dress. But if you knew the twins, which Haruhi did, that was hell enough. "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" She glanced nervously at Tamaki, hoping he at least would give some say. He could even snap out of his worry, and twirl her around like a rag doll yelling "Daughter", anything to get her out of this situation.

Which was why she was stupefied, for just at Karou managed to wrestle her arms our of her blazer's sleeves, the heavy oak doors swung upon, successfully managing to knock out Tamaki. Or at least that's what Haruhi suspected, since she currently couldn't see anything but leg due to her vantage point, caged down on the floor. And the fact she head a "MOTHE—" and then a heavy slam, a dazed blonde falling down on the floor.

Ordinarily this would have been a moment of humor for Haruhi, but the dark presence in the room told her otherwise. She tried desperately to look back, tilting her head in the direction of the door. The twins on top of her were frozen in what seemed to be fear, as forceful steps pounded to the tangle of limbs that was Haruhi and the twins. She winced, now able to detect the purple aurora radiating from the newly arrived member, who didn't seem to be that pleased. As if a machine, she twisted her neck back up, to stare directly at the ceiling. In her line of vision was all five feet ten inches of their missing host, eyes visible for once, through his lenses.

His stare, to the naked eye, was a fearsome thing to behold. The twins all but leaped off Haruhi, backing up, hands in mock surrender. The death gaze of the Shadow King was focused on them two. Two black orbs of pure evil, they would describe later, were trying to devour their souls it seemed, in his glare. He all but had to make a few, stiff steps toward the cowering Hitachin's before they scrambled off, zooming past Kyouya, each taking a side of Tamaki and lifting him out also. They knew when they had gone too far, and now, with a still incoherent Tamaki in their grasp, they had gone too far. Better to flee and live then die in battle.

So Haruhi, also a bit scared at Kyouya's sudden appearance and mood, silently lifted herself up to a sitting position. He appeared to have disappeared from sight though, when she brought her gaze back to the space in front of her. Only his bag and notebook was on the table, and before she could think it, a squeal left her lips. Her arms were being thrust roughly into her jacket sleeves, she wincing as Kyouya's grasp pinched the skin through her sleeves. "Umm…Kyouya-sempai?" She was returned with no answer, and pushed forward rather harshly away after the jacket was back on her, silently wrinkled but no worse for wear. She stumbled forward a few steps, eyes narrowed at Kyouya's sudden display of harshness, for she was rubbing her arms. His grasp hurt, not to mention his fingers were as cold as ice. But then again, what else to expect from the Shadow King?

When she regained her balance Kyouya was, not surprisingly, sitting at the table in front of her, pineapple laptop already out, him typing away. She stepped forward a bit more, for now she could see that something else wrong with her sempai. No, not her sempai. An unfamiliar tingle ran up her spine as she rethought the phrase. With the sempai. Not hers. She shook her head, and walked up closer to the typing figure. He failed to give his glasses the all familiar glare they had, and instantly, upon staring into his naked eyes, she sighed, leaning back against the table, arms still hurting but crossed. "What happened Sempai?"

Kyouya's hands froze mid-type, although in reality he wasn't typing anything. He wasn't thinking anything either, just trying to calm down. The rage he felt as he opened the door, the twins on top of Haruhi. His teeth clenched, his slim fingers already tucked to his palms. He could only imagine what Haruhi suspected, for this had not gone according to plan at all. Here he was, in display for Haruhi's observations. Why he had glared out at the twins, he couldn't explain why. It just was that seeing them there, Haruhi under, it just-

With a slam he brought his closed fists to the keyboard, letting loose on the screen a random scattering of numbers and letters. It seemed his mind wasn't faring any better, for he was just as confused inside. Haruhi leaping back in surprise only made matters worse. Now he was probably scaring her, just lovely.

Told you something like this would happen if you kept it up.

"K-Kyouya-sempai, what's wrong?"

I mean, you already are in deep trouble with that stunt in Mr. Whitmore's class, and you didn't really make matters better after school.

"Sempai! What happened?!"

Oh boy, this is going to be much fun. With what you starting to lose it, the dream, Haruhi. Ha! You're not sure of anything anymore are you?

"SEMPAI?!"

You know, you're just making everyone worried now. With you acting so out of character and all. You touched Haruhi even! Granted it was to put her jacket back on, but you broke rule number one you had with her right?

Shut up.

"Shut up!"

With a squeak Haruhi, her hand already on Kyouya's shoulder trying to shake him out of his daze, was flung back suddenly as Kyouya yelled out, eyes muddled at her figure. The chair turned with a scrape, and the commoner girl was met face to face with the youngest Ohtori.

Haruhi didn't break her eyes away, and right in front of her she saw Kyouya's slate-grey eyes, and the inner turmoil past them. They weren't keeping up the stoic façade of detachment Kyouya often out up, but instead were twitching, flitting around. With, no, it couldn't be fear. But then, as if in reaction to her thoughts, Kyouya lowered his gaze, refusing to look at Haruhi. Eyes downcast, his normally well-kept black helmet of hair sprung out, in the natural state of random and unruly spikes it was. His glasses slipped down, greeting the hard surface of the floor with a clatter. He made no movement to pick them up, nor did he even make any notice that they fell off. Kyouya Ohtori, the backbone and all powerful King of the Shadows was now a quivering form on the chair in front of her, hands shakily brought up, pressed against his forehead. The black bangs sprouted out past his fingers, his eyes shut closed. He was done, this was ridiculous.

But at least you're doing something. I mean, even if you are acting like a poor, little lost boy in front of Haruhi, wouldn't it be worth it?

But then I can't, my defenses, nothing will matter anymore. I might as well grow soft and sprout nonsense like Tamaki. I'm no better than him now.

Do you really hold Haruhi's opinion of you that high?

Kyouya groaned out, his mouth muffled against his palms. But then, before he could even prepare, thin arms slipped around his waist. He could feel the pressure of her head butting against his chest, her warm breath blown against his torso. Still, this sudden contact caught him off guard, and Kyouya just hitched his breath, straightening up in surprise. Contact, was something he wasn't a fan of. Ever since he was small Kyouya would shy away from the few hugs he received, just not comfortable with people touching him.

There you go repressing again…

But with Haruhi, now. Her hug was surprisingly warm, it was something he yearned. Which was why he was more scared, no, never scared. Even now, Kyouya Ohtori was never scared. Which was why he was more, slighted. He felt his chest constrict, a jolt run through the moment her dark-brown feathered hair touched him. But it was so warm, so comforting. This was why he awkwardly pulled back his arms from his face, and held them out. Almost wrapping around Haruhi, but no quite. He couldn't, he wouldn't allow himself the pleasure. For it would still hurt him, somewhere on the inside. And Kyouya hated that, hated to feel weak and hurt, like a lost little boy.

Repressing is bad, it stirs up more lost memories…

So although it pained him, he dropped his arms, letting them droop placidly at his sides. She still was hugging him, so he just tilted his head back, clearing his throat, preparing to speak. Her words met his though, so he let her just talk.

"I'm sorry if this is so forward Sempai, but something is wrong. With you. And my mother, she often said that hugs were always the sure-fire way to make things feel a little better."

Her words came out muffled, and Kyouya let in a deep breath, disagreeing with her words. Hugs, quite on the contrary, didn't make things better. It only made you worse. It made you want to be hugged again, and to always feel that embrace. And that exactly was where hugs trapped you, for what if you couldn't get another hug?

That's right, they're a dangerous drug aren't they? And you would know that better than anyone right Kyouya-boy?

He shook his head, but contradicted his true thoughts by not shrugging the girl off. "You are always a wonder with what you do Haruhi. I never know what you're going to do next." He gave this out in a whisper, a whisper that made the hairs on her neck stand on end. She pulled back her head, tilting it back to stare at Kyouya's face. He was trying, but still failed, to her. He looked a bit better, but his eyes, no one could hide their eyes.

Giving a slight frown she began to pull her arms back, to give Kyouya space. If she wasn't so close to him, she would have missed his request altogether.

"N-No. Don't. I'm not scolding you." Her face lowered, cheeks growing warm, although she couldn't figure out why in the slightest. It was just Kyouya, and he just told her to keep on hugging him. So what? Didn't she just say that everyone needs hugs? But he stuttered, and no matter how macho he wanted to play that off, the damage was done.

Haruhi knew it, and Kyouya did as well. He was losing it, and he was lost. The only thing left was a step Kyouya himself didn't know. What more could he do? How much more could he possibly weaken, in front of the girl?

But who said this was an act of weakness? Baring your problems and troubles, haven't you done this with your sister at least?

But those were idle, trivial problems, not in the emotional capacity Kyouya currently was burdened with. To just bare out his soul to Haruhi, a commoner, a person he himself was, wary of, at times, it was ridiculous. But it also was the only person the boy could turn to. He needed to talk, this emotional weight tying on to him too much. It was only a matter of time before he made a mistake, one that could very much cost him his family's respect. And that was all Kyouya lived for really. No matter how much he hated to admit this, it was true.

So, in the afternoon light of the third music room, Haruhi still embracing him, Kyouya shut his eyes, already aching from the absence of glasses. And he kept telling himself that they were moist because of the strain he was under, the stress. His inner mind was screaming for escape, as he, in a swift motion, raised his arms, and crushed the girl to him. He remained oblivious of her reaction, of the world around him. For the first time, since so long ago, he buried his face in her hair, the sweet strawberry smell that was ultimately her engulfing his senses. She was a nice smell, not a horrid one. Her gasp of surprise fell on deaf ears, for Haruhi was now his anchor, his last chance in such a short period of time. He tightened his hold, locking her in iron-clutches. She didn't push away, she too just as shocked as he was by his actions. She continued to embrace him as well, cheeks blazing and eyes wide open, yet not really staring at anything. She did notice when two simple drops trailed down, and when they fell lost in her locks, salty and wet.

The Shadow King had found his light, and was not willing to let it go for the moment. With shut eyes he only smelled her scent, trying to placate the fears and scents his dream was trying to creep back, to spoil it all. But here as he sat, his wall of glass now thoroughly shattered, his soul left bare, it came back.

YoYo-chan…

He didn't want it to, but it did. For when the good comes, the bad was sure to follow. Which was why, his words muffled through the Haruhi's now wet hair, he asked for help. Which was why, through a trembling body, he near pleaded out a sentence that hurt so much to say. "H-Haruhi. I'm…I'm…I'm scared."

Yes, the youngest Ohtori was scared; he had been the whole time.

YoYo-chan…

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Well now, this certainly is longer than I planned it. 22 pages of typing, but I guess I just was really eager to type this out. I've wanted to write a Kyouya Haruhi story forever, and finally found my inspiration I guess. So yes, I'm definitely planning to make this long-term. I can't guarantee the chapters will be as long as this, but I am guaranteeing around 3,000 words average for every remaining chapter, at least. So reviews please are welcome ^^ I need to know if I'm making them ooc. Something I despise above all else. So yes, tis all from me for now. And I'm always welcome to hear your suggestions, especially on where to have this story go from now. So until next chapter I suppose…

~ja ne!