Disclaimer: [Insert witty remark about not owning Ouran High School Holst Club here]

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After the upperclassman had showed Kyoya to a spare bedroom, he went to alert Kuretake and Kadomatsu about the visitor. It was decided that Kyoya would have to avoid school for the time being. It would be no use hiding if he just appeared there the next day.

Nekozawa sighed as he walked down the corridor to his bedroom. He passed by the window he had seen Kyoya through earlier. He could still see the ghost of his figure there, traveling over the path with his head bent toward the ground and backpack weighing him down. It was then that Nekozawa had known something was wrong. Since the very first moment Umehito Nekozawa had met Kyoya Ootori, he had carried himself strongly, always confident and knowing. He was the man who could rule the world if he wanted to. That's how Nekozawa had seen him since elementary. Nekozawa, even having been a year older than Kyoya, remembered sitting in his corner of the room they shared, playing with Beelzenef, while Kyoya studied hard, making it appear that he was the elder. Nekozawa remembered his face, too. Sharp and cold in a way that did not fit someone so young.

Then the cuts and bruises had started appearing. They looked so fitting of him, complementing the stoic look perfectly. That may have been the saddest part. But Kyoya never cried about it. He just took it with a straight face and refused to whine.

So, when he saw that same boy in such an uncharacteristic state, coming to his door, he immediately rushed down the stairs to answer the door. He made sure to open it before Kyoya knocked, lest he wake the sleeping Kirimi.

He did not see Kyoya as a friend, really. They were acquaintances who had kept on neutral terms. But Nekozawa was not the kind of heartless creature who would turn down a plea for help, especially when he knew how hard it must have been to make. After all, Kyoya did not have much experience with asking for help. That much he knew for sure.

Nekozawa pulled his cloak off from over his sleep wear, yanking off the dark wig in the process. True, it was nighttime and he did not need it, but he had simply forgotten to take it off earlier. He flopped unceremoniously onto the bed, blond hair splaying all over his pillow.

Even creatures of the night needed to rest sometime.

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It took Kyoya a few moments to figure out where he was the next morning. Once he got over his disorientation, he remembered that he was in Nekozawa's house. Getting up, he noticed that he was still in his day clothes, which he had been wearing since yesterday afternoon. Very unsanitary. The first thing he did was change into something cleaner. At first, his eyes searched for the familiar light blue of his school uniform before recalling, once more, that he was hiding at Nekozawa's house and would not be going to school today.

He glanced at his watch. It was late in the morning. Nekozawa would have already left for school. Come to think of it, Kirimi would be at her pre-school as well, which meant that, other than the housekeepers, he was probably alone.

Entering the adjoining bathroom, he studied his face in the mirror. The scratch was still there, but the redness had faded away. Sadly, the finger-shaped bruises on his arm were as prominent as ever. He'd have to make sure no one saw those. Other than that, the damage would be nearly unrecognizable.

He was wondering what he should do when a knock sounded at the door.

"Master Kyoya, are you awake?"

The boy wandered over to the door and opened it. Kuretake stood there in her abnormal maid's outfit, hands folded. He nodded to her.

"Would you like to come down for breakfast?" she asked politely.

He was about to reply that he was not hungry, but then suddenly found that he was starving. "Yes, thank you."

He stepped out of the room and followed her. She talked as she walked.

"Are you friends with Master Umehito?" she wondered.

"No, not really."

"But enough so that you'd run to here?"

"It was the only place I could think of."

These personal questions were really irritating him, but these were the people he had imposed himself upon and were taking care of him, so the least he could do was struggle through this.

They arrived at the dining room and she left for a second to go fetch some food. She was back with the meal rather quickly and continued the interrogation.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you run in the first place?"

Ah, so Nekozawa hadn't told her that. Maybe he was even more reliable than Kyoya gave him credit for. He made a mental note that he'd definitely owe a few favors to Nekozawa later on.

He warred with himself between staying silent or actually answering. But, again, they were housing him…

"Trouble at home," he replied vaguely.

A look flashed across her face and Kyoya knew she had probably found meaning in that scratch and was now looking for any other signs that might prove her theory right. He would make an even stronger effort to hide the bruises. It didn't help that he was skinny and pale, either. It most likely made him look more like an abused child.

The questions stopped after that. Kyoya was thankful. He didn't even see her again until Nekozawa returned home.

The dark-cloaked figure trudged through the doorway, sighing with relief to be home. Kuretake came to greet him.

"Good afternoon, Master Umehito. May I take you bag?"

"Thank you, Kuretake," he replied, handing her the item. She was about to leave when he stopped her. "Wait…how is our visitor doing?"

"I haven't seen him since this morning," she replied honestly. "But he seemed well enough then."

Nekozawa nodded and headed upstairs, following the hallways until he came to a guest room door. The door of the room Kyoya was staying in. He knocked.

"Come in!" Kyoya called.

Kyoya looked upward toward Nekozawa as he entered. The younger boy held his infamous little black book in his hands.

"Hello, Nekozawa-senpai."

Said boy hovered by the door as if there was a force field blocking him from entering. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you." Kyoya was definitely not used to saying "thank you" so much. Not many people did things for him that they weren't required to do, so he hadn't needed to.

"Suoh has already started panicking, you know."

Kyoya couldn't hold back a smirk. "That's to be expected."

"Should you have told them what was going on?"

"It's better to leave them in the dark."

Nekozawa shook his head at this. People may call himself a king of darkness and shadows, but Kyoya was more of a shadow king than he could ever be.

"I make no guarantees if they bother the Black Magic Club," he announced.

"I'll be back before it gets bad enough that Tamaki would even think to bother you."

"I'll take your word for it."

It was then that Kuretake returned, holding a tray with tea cups on it. Nekozawa took one, smiling while he thanked her. It was a sincere smile, Kyoya noted, not the one he gave to the rest of the school to scare them.

The maid moved to offer a cup to Kyoya as well, but her foot caught on some of the clothes that had spilled out of Kyoya's backpack. She tripped, but caught herself just in time so that she was not flung forward. Sadly, the same could not be said for the tea.

The porcelain cup went flying and crashed into Kyoya, spilling its contents all over him. He hissed inwardly. The tea was hot! Kuretake's face reddened.

"Ah, I a-apologize, Master Kyoya!" she stammered out. In all her years as a maid, she had only once messed up and that was only breaking the tea cup after having dropped it on the floor. She had never dropped tea on someone before. And on a visitor, too! Oh, she felt like such a klutz!

She waited for the outburst, but was met with the sight of Kyoya simply taking a deep breath and standing up. He picked the cup up from off of the floor and placed it on the bedside table. Then, he proceeded to silently collect a new shirt from his bag and make an exit to the bathroom. He rejoined them a few moments later, clean, with a new shirt on while the stained one was slung over his arm.

"M-May I take that for you?" Kuretake stuttered.

"Yes, thank you," he said in a level tone, handing the article to the maid. She vanished in an instant, fearing for the moment that he would snap. The tension was already too great for her to handle.

Nekozawa quirked an eyebrow, not that it could be seen. He noticed Kyoya trying to tug down the short sleeve of his right arm, but failing. He should have packed shirts with longer sleeves. Thankfully, the upperclassman made no comment on the bruises that were showing. Yes, he had definitely seen them, but either didn't care or didn't want to make a fuss.

Coming to Nekozawa's had been a good choice.

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I got a few requests for this to be continued and...well...I was bored. So I got this.