Harbour

Author: Atthla

Diclaimer and Warning are in chapter one.

A/N: Finally, after so long contemplating what I should do with this story, here I come bearing chapter four. Sorry for the long delay. Hope everyone enjoy it.

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Chapter Four: Withering

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Kyouya hated money.

Especially during times like these. The Ootori might be rich but even they had their limit somewhere and so here he was, sitting in front of sixty-seven applications, in his hands the right to choose which lucky fifteen would win the jackpot and earn the free ticket to surgery.

At this moment, Kyouya really, really hated money.

This must have been one of the reasons why his father had sold one of their companies years ago, the one he himself had bought. He had thought of it as a grand victory, never imagining that something else beside his father's occasional slip-ups might have caused the small catastrophe. Until this morning at least, when his father had called him to his office and laid before him these… options.

Kyouya leant back to his high-backed office chair, its welcoming luxury offering no comfort to him at the moment. He hated to admit this, but he felt like he was no more than a little child, wanting five flavours of ice creams when his mother only allowed him two. If only he had the money. That was the point. Money.

None of the people who had submitted these applications owned the amount of money large enough to pay for a single simple surgery, let alone the multistage, complex ones. Each had their own sad story, their own reasons, and for the thousandth time Kyouya sent a hateful glance toward the telephone sitting innocently on his desk. His father expected a list of fifteen names before three o'clock this afternoon, a stack of selected applications on his desk, and Kyouya really wanted to give him a call and say that he should smear the blood on his own hands, not his son's.

But he didn't. Despite his growing irritation, Kyouya knew exactly why he had been given this task. He was the heir. In times, it would be his obligation to make these choices and his father simply let him have a taste, to make him used to it – although he doubted very much that he would ever feel at ease doing this job. It felt no different to sending innocent people to the guillotine, in his head this knowledge that to save one would kill the other was echoing.

For probably the fiftieth time, Kyouya skimmed over the applications, re-reading information about each surgery and applicant he had actually committed to memory, just to make sure. They were usually brain and heart surgeries, those destitute commoners had no hope to pay except by borrowing money from banks that obviously would turn their request down after seeing their income balance. Every single applicant had been thoroughly inspected and Kyouya knew for sure that these were truly desperate peoples waiting for his decision.

There must be some other way. He could try to negotiate with some of the doctors, but that might not be a foreseeable option the next time he had to make another choice, perhaps in the next two or three months. He would plunge into the same hell and at that time, he might not have anything to claw his way out with.

Kyouya hated being helpless. He wondered how it felt for the family of the applicants.

There were still two hours before the deadline, he told himself after a weary glance to his watch. It was better trying to loose his mounting tension by having lunch than holing himself in here, and Kyouya stood up after throwing a last painful look toward the papers. His steps were slow and slightly unsteady when he wandered down the deserted corridor leading from his office. Must be the result of not eating breakfast. Again.

Kyouya lifted a trembling hand to run through his immaculately-combed hair. Even if he had told himself sternly that feelings had no right to meddle in his life, his body seemed to have a mind of its own. It had been a month since his last confrontation with Tamaki and during that time span, his appetite had pretty much dwindled to nonexistence. His body ceased to crave anything but warmth left tingling on his skin since that moment many nights ago. He wanted it. He could feel it when he lay down on his bed wide-awake at night, hiding inside the cocoon of his thick warm blanket; when he sat in a meeting and shivered when the air-conditioner ghosted a touch on the back of his neck; when he faced a plate full of delicacies and could think nothing but a pair of miserable violet eyes.

He had tried to fight back, to regain his old proud self. The idea that he was being defeated by mere emotions did not sit well with him and he had actually succeeded in his endeavours for one full week. And then he just stopped to care. Willpower could only do so much and why should he be bothered if he missed breakfasts. Or lunches. Or only ate at dinner because his father's eyes were boring into him. It was just one of life's little ordeals. Like everything else, it would pass eventually.

After three seemingly-endless weeks, however, the new dietary arrangement had started to take its toll on him. Kyouya could be patient if he wanted to and he had actually armed himself with supplements to make amends for skipping his meals, but once again it was proved that the mind could not always control the body. He tired out more quickly and his concentration easily frayed. Not to mention that lack of eating was not improving his mood, which had never been good in the first place

Except when he was with his friends. With Tamaki.

It shouldn't be like this. Kyouya hated to admit it, but he didn't understand. His life was perfect, flawless, orderly, just like how he had always wanted it to be. Spick-and-span but, he realized bitterly, without a force of life. It was silent, barren, empty.

He missed the havoc, the typhoon Tamaki had brought into his life. It had been his constant – often irksome – companion for years and without him realizing, it had merged in, becoming an integral part of him, so much that now that it had disappeared, his world tumbled off its axis. Very few things could catch him off-guard but this one certainly did.

Stopping in front of the elevator, he pushed the 'down' button and waited, glad that there was no one around to see the strained expression on his face. He knew that he was slowly walking to his doom, but Kyouya refused to go back. He had made a choice. These were the consequences and he had to live with them. And so he kept walking down this bleak lonely path, watching his world lost a shade of its colours every day.

It was when the elevator had arrived that he was greeted by a familiar voice.

"Kyouya-senpai."

A friendly, familiar voice. Which was rare to come and visit him these days. God knows that his father was a veritable iceberg, his brothers hated him and his closest friends shunned him now.

"Haruhi," he returned the greeting, a smile slipping easily to his face, and joined the young woman inside. "Visiting your father?"

She made a sound somewhere between an exasperated sigh and an amused snort. "Yes. He always asked me to bring him some homemade food and the doctor said that he was getting better, so I thought why not? Oh, and thank you for spending your time with him, Kyouya-senpai. He just told me about it. My father enjoys your company very much."

"He has an interesting personality," Kyouya answered mildly but not untruthfully. For some unknown reasons, he had never found Ranka's histrionic persona annoying. As casually as possible, he sent an appraisal glance to his friend and asked, "Have you had lunch, Haruhi?"

"Yes, just before I went here."

"Then it should be called breakfast," he said dismissively. "Join me for a cup of coffee."

Her eyes widened and she looked hesitant for a moment, long enough to allow Kyouya to wonder if he actually had lost the only ally he thought he still had. But before he could reach a definite conclusion, she had shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, sure."

It surprised him how the little gesture lifted so much burden off his sullen mood. She didn't smile. Her expression was one of resigned acceptance. Of a friend, Kyouya realized with sharp pang in his chest, of a good friend who decided to do something she didn't particularly wanted but would do it nonetheless because it was a request from another friend. Haruhi had never been one for false modesty and empty smiles. Kyouya pressed his lips together, saying nothing.

Their short journey was spent in silence. He only nodded when white-uniformed doctors and nurses bowed and greeted him as the heir of the Ootori. Curious glances were thrown at the young woman by his side, but Haruhi paid no heed to any of them. Kaoru chose his bride well, was what crossed Kyouya's mind when he perceived this with a slight smile.

He had always thought that it would be Hikaru. His crush to Haruhi was obvious although the latter did not show any special affection toward him. She always regarded all of them – the Host Club boys – equally. That in the end it was Kaoru who had won her hand was a mystery Kyouya had yet to solve.

"Is something bothering you, Kyouya-senpai?" Haruhi suddenly asked when they had sat down in one of the private rooms designed exclusively for receiving important guests. He returned her questioning gaze steadily, aware that he was on for a good challenge. She was one of those few peoples who could read him a little deeper than he would have liked.

"I always have some things bothering me," he answered coolly, his tone just a little above a warning. "Your question is a good example."

The worried look on her face broke into a more amused one. "Then maybe you want to lessen one burden by answering my bothersome question."

Kyouya chuckled and decided that he could let her win the first round. "There are always things, Haruhi," he replied, carefully maintaining his answer vague. "For one, running a hospital is hardly an easy feat and that is only the beginning of the list."

"I hope Hikaru and Kaoru aren't on that list," she muttered, suddenly looking and sounding annoyed.

He arched his eyebrows, amused. "If I say yes, are they going to be in a big trouble?"

She smiled back at him, her expression so innocent that Kyouya couldn't even begin to believe it. "No, not a big trouble. A calamity will be more like it," she declared calmly.

"Then yes, they are on the list."

Haruhi raised her cup of milk tea to her lips, smothering a grin. "Your evil ways never change, Kyouya-senpai," she remarked after a small sip, smiling noncommittally, and he wondered how a plain commoner could bloom to such magnificent lady. Then again, this was Fujioka Haruhi.

"You are not too bad yourself," he murmured, commending her on the skill she had employed to orchestrate the conversation. It almost felt like they were working on tandem. He sometimes wished that his fiancée could do the same and maintain a fascinating discussion with him. She was a sophisticated lady, but her timidity simply eclipsed everything that it was a wonder if she was really the firstborn of an illustrious family. He decided that they needed to work on that before she officially became the wife of Ootori Kyouya.

"I need to practice if I want to become a first-class lawyer," Haruhi replied easily, "but I never dreamed of getting a praise from you, Kyouya-senpai."

He allowed himself a little smirk. "Kaoru doesn't know what he's getting himself into, does he?"

"Oh, he knows all right," she shook her dark, long-haired head. "He is no fool, Senpai, and I think you know about it best."

Kyouya made no reply to this. His old relationship with Tamaki was still a taboo subject for him to be openly discussed, even with someone as close as Haruhi, but he admitted that she had said the truth. Kaoru had been one of the main reasons why there had existed a relationship beyond friendship between him and the Suou's family heir. A scenario, neatly planned, had been carried out by the rest of the Host Club members during the winter holiday of Kyouya's second year. They had been bold enough to involve him and surprisingly had succeeded to keep him oblivious from the real objective of the real scenario, which were Tamaki and himself. Haruhi, the false objective, had played her clueless role with such perfection that Kyouya was more convinced than ever that their only female member was much more than what met the eye.

A trained observer himself, Kyouya hadn't missed the fact that Kaoru was the mind behind the scenario, even if it had been heavily embellished by Hikaru's many designs of prank. He had sensed many little nudges from the younger boy now and then, but of course those subtle methods only fell dead before Tamaki's insensitiveness. Hence the bold scenario.

But Kyouya understood. Like him, Kaoru also spoke the language of the unspoken and the Ootori had to admit that he was very fluent in it. He could read between the lines and interpret them correctly, a skill which had only matured over the years. It was then when Kyouya had truly begun to appreciate the difference between the twins, and what they meant to each other.

But now there was Haruhi to be added into the equation. He silently regarded the young woman sitting in front of him, wondering if she knew where her position actually was. She must have. Haruhi didn't even need to learn to understand the unspoken, because she could practically see through all pretenses they had fortressed themselves with. There were no lines for her, no in-betweens.

Then why? She must know who Kaoru was truly in love with. Or were they playing a charade just as he was?

And the brothers spurned him for being engaged. Kyouya didn't know if he should laugh or scoff at this impressive display of hypocrisy. After all, they were only luckier because the girl was Haruhi.

Still, he saw no reason for her to accept the proposal. It was certainly not love and if it was for the sake of having a rich fiancé who could help paying her father's hospital bills, certainly there were better candidates around. Kaoru was the last person he could see falling in love with Haruhi. Mori would have been a vastly smarter choice. So why?

"You can ask me a question if you want, Kyouya-senpai," the young woman suddenly said, her tone gentle but enough to rouse him from his deep contemplation.

He mentally scolded himself for this little slip but acknowledged her perceptiveness with a small smile. "I still don't understand why you refused my help in your father's case," he said. "You accepted Kaoru's proposal instead, even with the knowledge that my family owns the best hospitals in the world and I can easily help you."

She was silent for a long moment, her face drawn in a serious thought. Kyouya had his own guesses flitting across his brain, hundreds of guesses, but none of them even came close to the answer which quietly tumbled out of her mouth.

"It's because I couldn't give you any merit, Senpai."

And he remembered a long time ago, a very long time ago, when she had given him the same reply, with the same nonchalant expression on her face. He couldn't help but to wonder why everything seemed so simple to her. Maybe it was the commoner's blood in her.

"So it was merit?" he drawled and deliberately put a pause there while taking a sip from his coffee. Haruhi offered no further explanation, but her large brown eyes were still fixed on him, expecting him to say more. And so he did. "Do you even love Kaoru?"

This new question seemed to have taken her off guard, but her quick wits saved her. "I do, in my own way," she answered hastily but couldn't help to avert her eyes, and Kyouya knew that he had not imagined the uneasiness which had slipped into her voice. For one brief moment, he felt like he saw a black ugly spider, spinning an intricate design of glittery webs as it maliciously watched a number of butterflies tangled within the silvery clutch. They were the butterflies, trapped, helpless.

He didn't want to guess who – or what – the spider was.

"I thought all girls dreamt of a prince riding a white horse to come and sweep her off her feet," he spoke again, more softly this time.

"No." The firmness in her voice surprised him and he could see that some of it leaked into her eyes as well. "That is incorrect, Kyouya-senpai. Not only girls. Everyone. Everyone wishes for a person to love with all their heart."

Kyouya felt his mouth tightening into a thin line and told himself not to read too deeply into her words. She might mean nothing, only stating facts. With a practiced ease, he moved the spotlight away from him to her.

"You haven't found one, have you? That person you will go into the fire and cross the seven seas for."

"I probably never will," she said slowly, her voice devoid of any sadness that usually accompanied such statement, "if it is about finding one. But I feel that I have found that person in all of you. One part in Kaoru, another in Hikaru, and the rest in all of you. I cannot love one better than the other."

He stared curiously at her. "Really?"

She once again shrugged. "Do you think I like wearing pretty gowns and having a smile ready on my face wherever and whenever? Or wasting precious times attending parties when I should be able to study? But Kaoru's mother expects those things from me and after all she has done for me and my father, how can I say no?"

Kyouya tried to conceal his amusement at this blunt honesty, but then realized that she probably could see it all the same. "If those things burden you that much, why didn't you simply accept my help? I'm sure it would be easier not to trouble yourself with my judgment in merits."

Haruhi sighed and her smile was affectionately tolerant when she mumbled, "You don't understand, do you?"

Kyouya was unsure if he should feel offended by the softly-spoken accusation but only found bewilderment thrumming in his veins. In the end he settled for a faintly interested 'oh?'

"You rich people are so shallow," she said without any real malice and Kyouya's eyebrows rose at this supposed-to-be insult. "But Kaoru always knows better. I already received too much help from you guys and I simply couldn't have more for my father. I know you said money wasn't a problem," she quickly added when he was about to open his mouth. "And maybe it shouldn't be since we are friends after all. But it is a problem to me, Kyouya-senpai. It's a debt and I don't like being in debt. Kaoru understood and it was why he made that offer."

The last word rang a bell somewhere inside his head and he looked straight at the young woman. "So, an offer it is?"

"Yes," Haruhi declared, her gaze steadily holding his. "An offer."

So much for the engagement of the century, he thought to himself. Kyouya had never believed that it was love, but now that he had heard the dirty details from her own mouth, he couldn't say that he understood Haruhi's logic. Or Kaoru's in that matter. Or even Hikaru's to let this happen. There were too many things here, too many underlying emotions and unspoken thoughts, and even Kyouya himself couldn't proclaim that he grasped a quarter of the whole picture.

He wanted to do something about it, to make sure that everything didn't go wrong, like he always had during their Host Club times. But at this moment, his brain refused to conjure even the simplest scheme, let alone one worthy to stand against Kaoru's shrewdness. Could be the side-effect of not eating right, he berated himself.

"Well, that is your life, I shall not interfere," he declared, but silently promised himself that he was going to find out as soon as possible. However, a sad smile on her face told him that it might be not as simple as that.

"You expect me to do the same, don't you?"

His hand almost, almost stopped in its mission to bring the cup of coffee to his mouth. He realized that this was the one reason which had always kept him from completely liking Haruhi. She was not only too sharp, too shrewd to miss any undertone, but also too blunt to hesitate stabbing someone in the very spot most sensitive to them. Almost like Kaoru.

They would certainly be a fearsome pair, he reflected dryly. Then again, it might be good for them both.

"True, that is your life, Kyouya-senpai," she suddenly spoke again, her voice gaining its firm quality back, "but I cannot promise you anything. We are a family, aren't we? And in a family, we're supposed to help one another."

The memories came unbidden to his mind at the mentioning of family. The game they used to play – one big, twisted, nevertheless happy family. He ignored the little tug in his chest and turned his attention toward the window that overlooked the hospital's garden instead.

"The bond is broken," Kyouya murmured, taking little heed that his voice had lost its imperturbable timbre. It sounded thin and weak, especially in this sunlit room.

"Not too late if you want to repair it," she replied airily, like it was an easy thing to do. "That is what you do in this place, right? Repairing, mending, so no one should cry over their loved ones."

His mind immediately turned to the despicable pile of applications on his desk. Kyouya looked at his companion and made a mental calculation. Haruhi was raised as a commoner. She was no stranger to poverty and had just faced a similar situation with his father's illness. While none of the applicants could possibly employ the same method she had, she might be able to give him more insight in this matter.

Kyouya decided to give it a try. "Haruhi," he began, his tone light but cautious, "if someone comes for your help and you don't have the money to help him, what will you do?"

She seemed surprised by this abrupt change of topic but followed his lead without protest. "Is he a good person?" she asked.

"Assuming so?"

"Then I'll help him make enough money," she answered without a moment's hesitation. "There are angels in this world who know better than anyone how poverty feels. I've met some of them myself. But on the other hand, there are also a plenty of rich people. Maybe not all of them will care, but I'm sure there will be some who are willing to lend a hand." She paused and then suddenly grinned. "There must be something I can do to help him. What is the use of having so many rich friends and a rich fiancé anyway?"

"Indeed," he remarked dryly which only served to widen her grin.

To ask for help. The idea had never crossed his mind. In fact, it could be said that one of the top tens in Kyouya's list of 'no, no, and once again NO' was to ask for help. He had come so far without anyone's help. To go against his policy now for something like this was completely absurd. Ridiculous.

But he still remembered that helpless feeling back in his office – how his body trembled with anger at his own incapability. He could do nothing, only silently watching his hands slowly but surely being soaked in blood. And Kyouya liked to win.

"Is that one of the things on your list, Kyouya-senpai?"

Once again he was forced to admit the prowess of her inner eyes. "You don't miss a thing, do you?" he wondered half to himself.

"I like to watch."

Kyouya smirked but didn't pursue the subject and said instead, "I may give you a call in a few days. Do you think you can drag your fiancé and his brother along if you come out to meet me?"

Haruhi's smile was small but clearly saying that she was satisfied. "I can give it a try."

They said their farewells after that mainly because Haruhi had to return to her workplace. She had just begun an internship in one of the most prestigious law firms in town and despite the Hitachiin being the biggest client of the firm, she was treated no differently from the other junior associates. Kyouya watched her leave, noticing her well-worn bag and dress, and amused himself for a moment with speculations when Kaoru would finally insist to replace them with something more fashionable. That would definitely be a show worth watching.

But for now, he had a plan to develop.

"Is that Fujioka Haruhi?"

He almost jumped from his seat when his father's stern monotone echoed in the room. The older Ootori was standing in front of the connecting door leading to another private chamber, his expression as inscrutable as usual. Kyouya inwardly scolded himself for letting his guard down but rearranged his composure quickly.

"Yes, Father."

"A very exceptional young woman," the older man murmured without turning his gaze from the opened door left behind by Haruhi.

Unsure of the direction this conversation was taking, Kyouya stayed silent. He had the same odd feeling with the one he had felt when his father was about to tell him about his engagement – and his appointment as the family's successor. His manner had been quick, straightforward, almost abrupt, and Kyouya had been left nursing a painful pounding in his chest after the announcement as the memory of Tamaki's cheerless smile floated in his mind.

For his father, marriage was business. He didn't recall if there was any love at all between his parents. His mother was a beautiful woman, the first daughter of a rich, powerful family, just as Fujieda Ageha was. He wondered if they would end up just like his parents in a few years, living oceans apart after she had dutifully given him an heir. Even now, her affinity to London was already evident.

"It is unfortunate that she is already engaged to one of the Hitachiin brothers," his father observed, still with the same deep monotone, and Kyouya felt like his heart had suddenly stopped beating.

"What do you mean, Father?" he inquired, his voice coming out a little too thin than he would have preferred.

The older Ootori finally turned to his heir, dark eyes looking at him from behind thick gleaming lenses. "It was once my intention to have her as a daughter-in-law," he elaborated flatly but not without a touch of deep-rooted disappointment.

"Oh." His stomach clenched at this, but Kyouya opted to put the blame on his carelessness for taking a strong coffee with an empty stomach. Although it probably didn't quite explain why his voice wavered slightly afterward. "You mean, you didn't mind her lack of status at all?"

"She can see you," his father declared, back already half-turned toward him, "for who you are, not only what you are. It is a very important quality for a wife."

Kyouya almost said, "Tamaki understands me better than anyone else."

But he didn't.

End Chapter Four

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A/N2: Oh, Kyouya...