Title: Distance.
Beta-reader: liquidity. Thanks so much for the awesome job, liquidity-san (big, BIG glomps).
Rating: M. For later chapters.
Pairing: HikaKao. Minor KyoTama.
Warning: Yaoi. OOCness.
Disclaimer: Ouran High School Host Club is owned by Voidanc- I mean Bisco Hatori-sensei.
Hush. It's okay. Don't worry. I'll make it alright.
Prologue
Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday, "I'm sorry." A whisper. "I love you, but… I don't love you like that."
Friday Saturday Sunday, "Hey, why're you so depressed?" A smile. An embrace. "Don't worry. It's okay. I'll be alright."
...
Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday, it rained.
Friday Saturday Sunday, sunny days.
Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday, "I'm sorry." the man said, shaking his head and re-adjusting his glasses, "He just doesn't remember."
The boy continued to look at them with confused, foreign eyes.
A tilt of the head, a brief tangling of those slender fingers, and the redhead lowered his gaze to hide the bit of bewilderment – perhaps embarrassment – that had fleetingly emerged in those amber orbs. Despite the distance between them, he could tell that those golden pools still shone in a very pretty, brilliant color - just not the same shade that had been embroidered so deeply into his memories.
Time trickled by slowly and none of them spoke, only unsteady breaths lingered in the air, clinging their little claws to the crisp, white walls. For a moment, he subconsciously felt the need to dart his gaze away, but paused when the copper-haired teen lifted his head up.
Confused. Troubled. Regretful.
"I'm sorry… but… who are you people to me?" the voice was soft, and clean, and gentle, and exactly how he had portrayed it in his mind every night when he was alone in their room.
She buried her face into her hands, and then her shoulders shook.
He had never seen her cry. That night she had kicked, and shouted, and screamed, and refused to cease until her throat had become sore and she had passed out in his unyielding arms, but he had never seen his mother cry. She was too strong and stubborn, perhaps even a little more than he was, so it didn't seem right that now she broke down and her entire body sobbed into the crumpled shirt of his father.
It was almost like a cosmic joke.
A lame one at that.
Maybe it was just a dream? The next morning, he would wake up and she would smack him in the head for having the guts to dream of such a ridiculous thing about the world-renowned fashion designer. The next morning, he would wake up and his father would smile and tell him that it was nothing more than a disturbing nightmare. The next morning they would laugh, and roll on the floor with each other, and he would be able to feel the warmth he always loved to bury himself into.
She didn't stop crying.
Should he comfort her? Hey, he had to do something, at least.
He had to do something, simply because he didn't know what to do.
Holding her. Comforting her. Rubbing her back and saying that everything would be okay. Telling her to dry her tears because everything would turn out to be alright and nothing would be the same anymore and the whole world was bullshit. Running out, running out, running out of the room because he desperately needed to escape, escape, escape and those eyes burned and he didn't know what to do anymore.
"I'm sorry. I'm… very sorry." Haruhi Fujioka placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, her tone shaking out of its normal indifference and the trace of a tear flickering at the corner of her brown eye. Tamaki Suoh's hand occupied his other shoulder, and the blond simply stayed as silent as the rest of his friends, amethyst eyes sadly drinking in the sight of the patient in front of him.
Should he tell them that it'd be alright and that he was okay?
Hey, he had to do something, at least.
He had to do something, simply because he didn't know what to do.
It was the small, tedious creak of the bed that reminded him that he had somehow abandoned his friends' comfort, taking a few steps forward and settling himself next to the fiery-haired boy. There was that confused look again, and as he extended his arm to touch the teen's smooth cheek, he saw his slender frame shake.
"It's okay." he murmured, pressing their foreheads together like he used to do in old times, "It'll be alright."
How many days? How many days?
He had missed that warmth for so god damn long.
"Who are you?" A whisper, a painfully tiny, frightened whisper that was only meant for him to hear. The burning sensation in his chest tightened its ugly hold around his heart, and he closed his eyes as the corners of his mouth curved up shakily.
"I'm Hikaru. Hikaru Hitachiin."
Who am I?
Car crash. Amnesia. They said, leaving his question unanswered and maybe that was when her tears started to fall. She didn't look at him as her small silhouette trembled, and he blinked and lowered his gaze and clutched the sheets a little more tightly because he couldn't stand it when she cried.
I'm sorry. He had a feeling that he should have said that.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, and yet his larynges twisted and no sound came out.
A brunette reached out her hand, her chocolate bangs casting shadows on her eyes and it looked like she was going to move forward.
Stop. Reset. Rewind. She wasn't there.
A blond with amethyst orbs grabbed her hand, shaking his head and told her she should not.
Stop. Reset. Rewind. He wasn't there, either.
Look at us, their eyes begged. Remember. Something. At least, call my name.
I'm sorry. He had a feeling that he should have said that.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, and yet his larynges twisted and no sound came out.
Stop. He couldn't remember.
Reset. His mind was blank.
Rewind. It was empty.
Stop.
Reset.
Rewind.
Rewind.
Rewind.
Stop.
Nothing.
He was scared.
"It's okay. It'll be alright." Long fingers on his skin. He cringed, then relaxed into the warmth when their foreheads touched. Somehow it calmed him down, and as he clutched the sheets a tad tighter to himself, he realized that he wasn't so afraid anymore.
"Who are you?" he asked in a slightly tremulous voice, and the dark-haired boy closed his eyes before allowing a small smile to surface.
"I'm Hikaru. Hikaru Hitachiin."
"Who am I, then?"
"My little brother." Hikaru curved his lips up, extending an arm and stroking his head gently, comfortingly. "You're my little brother."
After months of consideration and re-consideration (fine, maybe I just tossed the coin), Kaoru's the one who loses his memories. I'd love it if someone write a story in which Hikaru loses his, though XD. Thank you for reading and… I really hope you don't mind me starting a multi-chaptered fic?
My special thanks to: QT Pie, Anonymous, InnerShadow, sunshine, The Infamous Caichie/Tangerine-Doll, Stormshadow13, Daughter. Light, Jessica Aroura-YourFace, go-play-in-traffic, nejiXtenten4everz for their reviews on my fic 'Minuscule', KyoXSakiFan for the reviews on 'Minuscule' and 'Frustration', Deathnotemeanslife for the reviews on 'Fragments' and 'Brutal', Rayne Marie for the review on 'Fragments', Gabriel and Adin for the review on 'Brutal', Karneene for the review on 'Why?', RandomDream for the reviews on 'Minuscule' and 'Frustration'.
Thank you, and please know that I appreaciate each and every of your kind word. To the anonymous reviewers: It's a pity that we can't find a way to reply to your review, but I'm sure that every author love and respect you all, as well as the encouragement you give us.
