A/N: I thought of this when I was trying to sleep...and didn't write it down FML so it won't be as bloody brilliant as it was! (And that is a fine example of my ample modesty.) Like, honestly! It was really decent! And inspired by a semi-decent HP fic about dear old Goergie after Fred dies *sobs* POOR GEORGE!

Oh man. Intenseness. There was a moment I thought I could make this a massive multi-chap then i was like LOLZ NO. Cause SO many good oneshots are ruined by people who try to make them into multi-chaps! Sometimes it just doesn't work! Everything in moderation!

Wow. Can I just tell you guys to listen to Ain't No Rest For The Wicked? For no reason, bar the fact that it's guitar into riff is SO EPIC that I feel like doing some intense air guitar. YES! Picks at the ready, people. You never know what's going to happen.

Anyway, let's ignore this ridiculously long A/N and focus on the real stuff - i.e. I should be feeling depressed. Yes. SOMEONE'S DEAD.

And it's not me...

Disclaimer: ...I'd be able to afford NOT ONLY another Touche Eclat, but probably a beautiful Chanel bag and some really great Louboutins if I owned this PHYSICAL BABESTATION of a manga.

He was there when it happened. He was there when the ambulance came. He was there at the hospital.

He was there when the doctor entered the waiting room, beads of sweat dotting his forehead from desperate, last-chance CPR. He looked sympathetic. He looked worn. He looked like he dealt with this every other week.

And Kaoru was there when such a doctor pronounced his brother to be something Kaoru knew ever since the car skipped the red light and Hikaru skipped ahead.

Hikaru's dead. Hikaru's not alive. Hikaru's not here.

And Kaoru just doesn't know what to say. He tries to speak- opens his mouth- he can move his tongue, his lips- but nothing's going to- nothing's- nothing is happening.

He doesn't know what to think. Hikaru's dead. His brother. His twin. His best friend. A whole person, with thoughts and feelings and dreams and blood, is gone. Never to be seen again.

Kaoru's going to inherit Yuzuha Hitachiin on his own. He's going to lead such a massive fashion brand on his own. Sure, he'll have a team, pattern makers and stylists and everyone - but he won't be one of two creative co-directors and this is really, really scaring him.

There's no identical to him any more. No mirror image. No brother to have brotherly love with. No place in the Host Club for him. His maths grades are dropping. Worse than the rest of them. There's nowhere Kaoru can belong if Hikaru isn't with him, rash and impatient and impulsive as he is.

But Hikaru's trapped in a coffin, six feet underground and decaying like all corpses do when there's no use for them.

He's seventeen years old, not even out of high school, and it feels like he'll never be able to live again.

It doesn't help that they're treating him different. He thought he could depend on them. They would be a shoulder to cry on if need be, but they wouldn't act any different. He thought they'd ground him, keep him breathing.

They're not. They're not they're not they're not.

And Kaoru should have known. But he didn't, and now he doesn't know how to speak to them because they keep giving him those looks. He's read about them, but he didn't think they were real. After all, they must have read about them too, so don't they know? Don't they?

But they don't. And so they give him looks, a small frown, and kneading of the eyebrows, eyes compassionate. It's the poor dear look. The his twin just died how is he ever going to cope on his own? one. And, well, obviously them giving him these pitiful looks is going to help him cope, isn't it? Patting him on the shoulder and speaking in those stupid soft tones is going to help, right? And why doesn't Tamaki do anything? He knows what it's like to lose someone, doesn't he?

Except he doesn't. None of them do. Not one.

And Kaoru begins to hate how he's rich. Maybe if he were poorer he'd go to a less expensive school for commoners and maybe commoners would deal with this stuff more often. It's not to say that the rich die less - it's just that the rich can afford the equipment that helps them get better.

Not that it always works.

Kaoru knows he's bitter. He's angry. And scared. He's sad- so sad- he can't bear it, not on his own, and maybe once there was someone to help but that someone's gone-

Calm. Think. Breathe.

Because he's going to be okay someday, right? He won't stay like this forever, right? Although he can't bear the fact of living life without Hikaru, he'll move on eventually, won't he?

He's never felt so lonely before. Ever. Is this what normal people feel like? Only children? Homeless people? Is this what those with no soul mate feel? Because it feels terrible and Kaoru almost respects people for bearing the burden so well.

He doesn't...want to think. He doesn't want to imagine. Not any more. Not right now. Because the truth is, he can't handle this, he can't cope, not on his own. Not like this.

But what other way is there? When is he going to feel better? When will it all be normal? Will it ever be normal?

Or will he live like this for the rest of his life?

And it's when he thinks like that, that he almost hates Hikaru for dying. But by then, he's already crying, and it takes such a long time to stop.

A/N: Ew, did you see that ending? It's...heh. Okay. I put the ideas I remembered into it. YALDI. Ish. COMMENTS PLEASE! Is my style okay? is it weird or jerky or sudden? is it damn right horrendous? It is, isn't it...?

*runs*

But hey, I give out home made cupcakes. With icing. And stars.

Tempting, I know ;)