Chapter TWO –Art of Thick Skin

Chapter TWO –Art of Thick Skin

!1!

Noise—the sound of countless people talking over each other entered his ears. Cheesy restaurant music played in the background. It irked him. He subconsciously decided to ignore it and tried to continue the dream, so unjustly interrupted, where he was sitting in a quiet room counting money. Just as he was about to get into the dream again, he was interrupted yet again with a loud banging noise originating somewhere within a 30 centimeter radius.

The low-pressure demon chained within the darkest pits of his being stirred awake. Breaking free from the shackles of sanity, the demon swiftly took control. The still lethargic but dangerous Kyouya slammed his fists onto the table. The vibrations from the force of his fists shook the table, causing the chinaware to literally bounce to the floor. Even an idiot would know that the basic laws of physics would govern such a fall, but the demon inside Kyouya was a primitive and aggressive soul, who cared not about science but only of violence and vengeance. The sound of shattering porcelain and spilling water fortunately woke up the cultured and learned soul that was Ootori Kyouya.

He opened his eyes and took in the unfamiliar setting. He felt all eyes on him and his 30 centimeter radius, which at this point was clear of all that was once on the surface of the table as they are now lying pitiless and broken on the floor. By observing his setting he was able to make out the fact that he was in a restaurant specializing in waffles as the menu clearly states 'Waffle House'. There can only be one explanation for why he was sleeping in such a place—Tamaki. Tamaki called him the night before, but he chose not to answer him, knowing very well what he was in for. He must have torn him from the comfort of his bed to assist him in his mind-boggling dilemma with his alleged child, Haruhi. His eyes landed on a piece of napkin with fancy penmanship on the floor, only to confirm that the culprit is indeed his alleged best friend.

Kyouya,

I went to the supermarket with Haruhi to buy ingredients to make daifuku! They're having a sale and you won't believe how cheap everything is! I'll be back after a while. Enjoy the waffles!

Love your BFF,

Tamaki

PS- Hope you were having a great dream, sleepyhead!

"Sir, you're going to have to pay for the damages," a female voice sounded from the side. Kyouya turned around to face the young golden brown haired waitress.

"How much is it?" Kyouya asked without blinking an eye.

"You broke three plates and three cups," the girl counted the broken items on the floor. "It should come up to about 3500 yen," she answered back, holding her own against the dauntingly calm Kyouya.

Kyouya paused for a second. He didn't have any money on him. He didn't have any sort of communication device to contact anyone, and he was frankly too proud to explain his situation.

"Add it to my bill," he decided to stall for Tamaki to come back, although he doesn't trust that Tamaki would remember. If all else fails, he'll use the restaurant phone. Meanwhile he decided that he had time to spare today. Kyouya sat back down on the seat as if the mess around him was nonexistent. "Can I have a new cup of black coffee?"

!2!

"Tamaki-senpai," Haruhi interrupted Tamaki's fascination with the stacked cans of chicken broth.

"Why, this chicken broth pyramid is quite impressive," Tamaki examines. "Although I wonder if cooking a chicken would produce a soup more luxurious than the contents of this can…I'm buying two!"

"Why did you want to make daifuku again?" Haruhi asked while pushing the shopping cart through the frozen goods aisle.

A bead of sweat traveled down the contours of Tamaki's face.

"Eto….I wanted…I mean—my father is opening up another uh…chain hotel in…in Iceland—yes Iceland, and I wanted to congratulate him with some home-made daifuku," Tamaki stumbled, his arms flailing around nervously. Without thinking, Tamaki grabs the nearest item to fondle in order to ease his fretfulness. With a can of chicken broth being that very item, the entire chicken broth pyramid collapsed.

"Clean up in aisle one," the loud speaker projected.

Things weren't going the way Tamaki had imagined. He assumed that he would grow the guts to express his thoughts to Haruhi. He even brought mother Kyouya along to make the atmosphere more bearable. Apparently it was too big of an assumption, as daifuku wasn't even in the original plan. He had meant to sincerely ask Haruhi not to go, and to assure her that he would protect her from anything. Yet the words would not make their way out of his throat. In their place, he ended up asking her if she could teach him how to make daifuku. So here they are, at the supermarket buying ingredients.

"Oh," Haruhi said simply, deciding not to expose the fact that she knows he is making it up as it comes. "Tamaki-senpai, there was something else you wanted to say, wasn't there?"

Tamaki stiffened up. She was sharp like a needle today. Tamaki couldn't form a proper sentence from the shock, and merely nodded.

"You wouldn't ask me to teach you how to make daifuku when you have all those cooks working for you," Haruhi explained logically.

Tamaki remained frozen on the spot, his head hanging down, debating whether he should just come out with it. Both ways he would have to tell her because she knows the whole daifuku thing was a cover up and he didn't want to cover a lie with another lie. Besides, it's for Haruhi's own good, right? There's nothing to lose!

"Actually, it's about the year end ball," Tamaki breathed out. He didn't get a response. He was shaking, either from the frozen food or from his own tension. He fumbled with a frozen fish trying to feign a mask of nonchalance...a look that Mori and Kyouya have been blessed with from birth. "Can you not go…with her?" Tamaki shot his head up expecting to connect his eyes with those of Haruhi, but to his dismay, he was locking eyes with none other than air and the cold and empty frozen foods aisle.

"Haruhi?" Tamaki walked down the aisle looking side to side. He finally spotted her at a sale section for baking ingredients. She seemed to have her eye set on a bag of flour placed too high up on the shelf for the five foot beauty to reach. Tamaki stood and stared. He couldn't help thinking she was like the cat preying on the bird in a cage. Then he noticed a middle aged woman at the end of the aisle. Apparently she spotted the last bag of flour. Tamaki knew what she wanted. Without another thought, the two rushed over towards the flour.

Having the advantage of longer appendages, Tamaki won out with ease. He presented the bag of flour to Haruhi proudly.

"Sorry, I must have saw wrong…this isn't the one I'm looking for," Haruhi clarified after taking a better look at the labels.

"H-heh?" A muscle in his jaw twitched as the middle aged woman strolled past him smugly with his flour in her pudgy hands.

!3!

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, when are you going to pay?" the waitress asked, clearly getting impatient after pouring him the fourth serving of black coffee.

"Soon," Kyouya replied calmly, turning his head back to the newspaper left conveniently by his seat neighbor ten minutes ago. All the other waitresses treated him with great warmth, giggling amongst themselves every time he said something as simple as "Thank you". This waitress on the other hand was different. He found her a tad annoying but not more so than he found her amusing. She seemed like the impatient type. It was as if she had no time to slow down. In fact, he'd praise her for her unwillingness to be deceived if he wasn't the deceiver. She couldn't stand him. He knew he was driving her to boiling point, but it wasn't his fault Tamaki left him here with three orders of waffles—which he finished by himself.

She returned five minutes later with a bill placed neatly in the middle of a small rectangular tray. She threw it on the table as politely as throwing allows.

"Sir, we have to start preparing for the lunch hours. You've been here since 8:45 a.m. I think it's about time you pay and leave," she demanded with that permanently serious look on her face. He was amused to say the least, but she wasn't.

"I'm waiting for someone," Kyouya shot her a mocking smirk, challenging her EQ, her values, and her quick wit.

"Sir, I'm beginning to think you don't even have money with you to pay for this meal," the waitress leans down ever so slightly, returning a sardonic grin. After a brief exchange of thunderbolts, the waitress was pulled aside.

"Shioya, what do you think you're doing!?" the manager scolded the waitress from aside.

"This guy not paying for his meal," she shot Kyouya another glare. The manager immediately forced her to turn her head back, and then bowed apologetically to Kyouya.

"Do you have any idea who he it!?"

"A swindler?"

"YOU—" the manager made a fist and gritted her teeth at the waitress. "If it wasn't for your mother, I would have fired you already!" After calming down a bit, she turned towards Kyouya with a completely different look on her face. She had a wide smile plastered on her face, eyes squinted but sparkling. "Ootori-sama, I apologize for her lack of propriety. Shioya Jun, apologize to Ootori-sama!" the manager dragged the waitress back roughly. The waitress, now named Jun widened her eyes in disbelief, her mouth gapping and shutting as if at lost for words. The manager gave her one last threatening look before pushing Jun towards Kyouya.

"Sorry," Jun muttered, obviously unsatisfied with the outcome. Kyouya nodded once in acknowledgement. He looked over to the clock on the wall and decided that he wasted enough time already.

"Ootori-sama, I'm sorry once again," the manager bowed, pushing Jun aside again. "This meal is on me!"

Kyouya bowed slightly. "Thank you. Excuse me, I have some business to attend to," Kyouya walked out of the restaurant casually.

"Wait, you can't do this—" Jun protested. She felt that justice wasn't served and on top of that, she lost a humiliating battle against that pretentious—

"Get back to work!" the manager hissed, interrupting her mental rant.

"I'm going," walked off towards the kitchen area. "Don't let me see that swindler again…"

!4!

He couldn't believe how fast things were progressing. First they were at the waffle house with Kyouya—speaking of which…

Then they were shopping together, and now he's at her house about to make daifuku together. Yet, he was still unable to get his message across. He tried, no one can say he didn't try, but call it fate's ill-humor for Haruhi to get distracted by a sale as he was trying.

Tamaki squeezed into Haruhi's tiny home, careful not to stand completely straight for the ceiling was quite low. He seated himself by the tiny table in front of the tiny television set. As small as everything was compared to his own home, he felt just at home…or as a home should feel like…warm and inviting.

Haruhi set a cup of tea in front of Tamaki. The aroma tickled his senses, igniting his inner mind theater to play on its own.

"Honey, I'm home," Tamaki in his fantasy was a mediocre business man with a warm home and a beautiful wife.

"Welcome home, darling," Haruhi in his fantasy rushed out of the kitchen to greet him with a homey looking apron wrapped around her neck and spatula in hand. "How was work today?" she would ask as she helps him unload his briefcase.

"Oh, I don't even want to talk about it," he would sigh, loosening up his tie. "Another customer demanded a refund for the new toaster oven, so I got in trouble with the boss…you know, my high school classmate, Kyouya…"

"My poor baby! Here, let me give you a massage," she would then massage around his neck to loosen up his muscles…

"Senpai?" Haruhi waves a hand in front of his face. Once he snaps back to reality with the real Haruhi sitting right across from him, a flood of pink swept through his face. "I said, I can't make daifuku with you today," Haruhi repeated what Tamaki didn't hear. Tamaki tilted his head. "I have to go somewhere."

"Where are you going?" With who? Boy or girl? How old is he or she? How long have you known this boy or girl—"

"The police station," Haruhi stated simply. Tamaki gasped dramatically, covering his gapping mouth with his hands.

"Who are you meeting there—no, I can't let you go by yourself! The streets are full of bad people! What if someone robs you? You'll have nothing! Even worse, what if someone kidnaps you!? NO! Knock on wood… I'm going with you!" Tamaki declared, dragging Haruhi by the arm. They were already halfway down the block when Tamaki asked, "Why are you going anyway?"

"I have to pick up my father."

"R-Ranka-san…?"

!5!

After spending the remnants of his day observing the administration system of one of his father's hospitals, Kyouya finally arrived home. He stood by his room door, staring at his unmade bed and unpolished floor. The maids were supposed to change his sheets every Saturday, and he has gotten use to sleeping on fresh sheets every Saturday night. He looked down the hall, unable to spot a maid in sight. He decided to put measures on his own hands and began to pull the messy covers off his bed.

"Ah, let me do it for you!" He paused upon hearing a familiar yet foreign voice. He concluded that it was the new replacement maid.

The young maid scurried over to pick up the job. Kyouya turned around to familiarize the new maid's face. His eyes widened a bit upon seeing who it was that was peeling the sheets off the corners of his mattress.

"I'm sorry for making you wait. My name is Shioya Jun, and I will be substituting for my mother, Shioya Shizuka until—" the young maid finally looked up and the two's eyes met again. "YOU!"

!A/N!

Finally! It took me so long…You see I write the first draft on paper. When I'm finished with the first draft, I move on to the second draft on Microsoft word. The second draft is a more detailed draft, as I can't help adding descriptions and extras. This chapter is slightly longer than the first chapter because I went crazy with some parts, if you noticed the larger paragraphs…I kind of forgot what I had to say…so that's it for now. Check my profile for updates on the progress of each chapter. (If you're interested) Thanks for the reviews, hits, and alerts, by the way.