Mother's Day
Ootori Kyouya wasn't used to waking up early.
It was by the time his third alarm went off that Kyouya was irritated enough to muster the energy to actually open his eyes and will himself awake. He sat up in bed, silently cursing the world for creating daylight and alarm clocks, blearily getting his bearings. Things like, 'Who am I?' and, 'Where am I?' came almost automatically, but more complex things like, 'What's the date?' and, 'Has Tamaki tried to kidnap me again today?' took a bit longer.
Early morning: It was the only time in the day when Kyouya wasn't completely in control of himself.
He stumbled out of bed, and headed, almost by pure instinct, to the bathroom.
As he grabbed a towel from the rack, something small and white fluttered into view. It was a piece of paper. It had fallen from the top of the folded towel, landing silently at Kyouya's feet like a butterfly. He picked it up.
Written nearly in his own handwriting was, 'Don't forget what today is.' He vaguely recalled scribbling it the night before, just before he went to sleep. Squinting at the neat script without the aid of his glasses, Kyouya pondered.
Today. Today is Sunday. No school on Sundays. Why the hell did I bother getting up so early?
It dawned on him, painfully and slowly, like a migraine. Kyouya groaned and leaned delicately on the doorframe leading to his palatial bathroom. He stayed there for awhile, as if waiting for a lightning bolt to strike him down, or the earth beneath him to open up and swallow him whole as punishment for sheer stupidity.
Seriously he considered crawling back into bed, but it was no use: when you're up, you're up. After a while, when nothing vaguely catastrophic happened, he raised his head in defeat, and shambled reluctantly into the bathroom, muttering curses all the while.
Tamaki was in the gardens of the second Souh mansion, playing Frisbee with his golden retriever Antoinette when his phone began to ring. He glanced at the caller-photograph and almost didn't answer out of sheer shock, simply staring at the ringing phone for several minutes before mustering enough courage to press, 'answer'.
"H-hello?" Tamaki nearly whispered.
"Hi, Tamaki, it's me," came Kyouya's voice from the other end.
"Kyouya?" Tamaki murmured again, wide-eyed. "Is this really Kyouya?"
There was a slight pause. "Of course it's me, you twit," Kyouya snapped, sounding exactly like himself. "Who else would it be?"
"What are you doing up so ... early?"
This was followed by a curt, short silence, in which Tamaki fancied he could hear Kyouya gritting his teeth together at the other end of the line. "Anyway, I want you to meet me in front of Haruhi's apartment block today at eleven thirty," Kyouya responded, batting away Tamaki's question like one would a fly. "Eleven thirty, yes? Be there."
"What? Huh? Haruhi's apartment? Wait a sec–!"
Kyouya hung up. He could already imagine the confused look dawning on Tamaki's face as he tried to figure out what was going on, and smirked in sadistic satisfaction. He always did so love to torture his vain little friend. Kyouya flipped his phone open again and dailled another number. This time his voice took on a lighter, politer tone, oozing his trademark Ootori professionalism and charm.
"Hello? Ranka-san, it's Ootori Kyouya. Yes, I'm fine, thank you. It's about what I told you yesterday ..."
It was not yet eleven-thirty when the dazzling white Benz pulled up in front of the Fujioka's apartment block, and Tamaki came rushing out in a wild blond blur. He stood, slightly breathless, in front of the Fujioka residence. The door swung open automatically, just as Tamaki raised a hand to knock.
"Ah, thought you'd be the one to make all that noise," Kyouya murmured. "Come in, then."
"Kyouya? What are you doing in Haruhi's apartment?" Tamaki asked, as he followed Kyouya in. And, in a whisper, added, "And why are you suddenly making as if it's your own house? Are you trying to adopt a commoner lifestyle too?"
"Don't be daft," Kyouya snapped back, batting the back of Tamaki's head lightly. They entered the living room, where, to Tamaki's surprise, a complete picnic had been laid neatly on the floor on a checked red-and-white tablecloth as if the tiny apartment's living room were a sprawling park green, while Haruhi was bent over a game of checkers where she was clearly losing.
"Ah, Kyouya-senapai, I think I found an opening!" Haruhi called out triumphantly, without looking up. She jumped her red piece over several of Kyouya's black pieces and evened out the game neatly. She looked up, smiling, her expression turning to faint surprise when she saw Tamaki there.
"Eh? Tamaki-senpai? You're here too?"
"He'll take over for me right now," Kyouya answered, smiling his signature congenial smile. "Tamaki, I think you'll enjoy the picnic particularly."
It was then Tamaki tore his eyes away from Haruhi long enough to actually pay attention to the food laid out neatly on the floor. The menu was unmistakably, deliciously and nostalgically French. All his favourite foods from his childhood were arranged in a neat little circle, and Tamaki could feel his eyes misting up as he named them one by one in his head.
"I don't know what some of these foods are, actually," Haruhi admitted. "But they look good enough to eat, at least."
Tamaki instantly became more animated. "I could tell you what they are! I'd love to teach you their names, Haruhi! I can teach you, can't I? These are all the types of foods I loved when I was a boy. See?" He picked up a piece of bread. "Let's start with this. This is a bauguette!"
Haruhi stifled a giggle. "I know that, at least!"
Kyouya silently sidled out of the room, smiling at the pair. Just as he was about to leave, a hand clapped softly onto his shoulder.
"It was a good thing you did today, Kyouya-kun," came Ranka's voice. Kyouya glanced back to meet the eyes of Haruhi's father, who was gazing past him to look at Tamaki and Haruhi animatedly conversing over their picnic. Kyouya nodded.
"It was necessary."
"For whom, I wonder?" Ranka laughed, tossing back his glossy auburn hair with flourish. "Now. Where is this exclusive Aqua Garden you were telling me about, where all the celebrities and supermodels go to to rest and rejuvenate? I can't wait to rub shoulders with Kimura Takuya-san!"
"Ah, this way, Ranka-san, after you," Kyouya said, leading the way out. "I think, for you, we can provide a special discount on certain packages ..." their voices faded into the bright Sunday sunshine, leaving Tamaki and Haruhi in the living room, contemplating over a checker game.
"You know, Tamaki-senpai," Haruhi murmured, her voice barely louder than a whisper, "my mother used to play checkers with me, way back when. She always let me win because I had no idea how to play then, I was so young. Playing like this ... it really bring back memories." She looked up at him and gave a soft laugh. "But don't you dare let me win. I've grown a bit older since then, you know."
Tamaki blinked, completely charmed. He'd already decided to let Haruhi win earlier, while they were rearranging the checker pieces. He smiled and offered his own anecdote in reply: "When I was younger," he said, "my mother used to take me for walks in the Tuileries Gardens in Paris. We'd go for picnics, sometimes. These were all out favourite foods." He gestured towards the spread on the mat, which they were presently helping themselves to. "I can't help but miss her, but sharing this picnic with you somehow makes it better."
There was a sort of odd silence after that, where both of them awkwardly pretended to ponder over their next checker move. But there was no mistaking what was going through their minds.
"Kyouya, he-"
"-planned all this-"
"-for us-"
"-Why?"
They stared at each other, wide-eyed as it began to dawn on them. Soon afterwards, they laughed.
"Mother's instinct?" Tamaki ventured, still dizzy from giggling.
"I guess so!" Haruhi said between laughs. Her eyes were bright when she added, "I guess ... we'd better wish Kyouya-senpai a Happy Mother's Day."
Author's Notes: I wrote this all the way back in May for Mother's Day, but just never got down to posting it. Oh well, better seven months too late than never!
Kyouya has always been called "Mom" or the 'mother' of the Host Club -- with Tamaki being the "Daddy". This whacked out family setting never fails to amuse me. .