Erudition
By Keiraun
Ratings: K+
Wow, chapter four! Huttah-tah, I can't believe I haven't given up on this fic yet! I'm actually feeling pretty good, my last chapter fic, Polished, died before it reached chapter 4. But, that was three years ago. Maybe I'm more dedicated now. Now I'm mature, obviously, since I'm 18, right? Ha ha, that must be it. I want to finish this before too much school work gets in the way, I'm really actually enjoying writing this one. Hopefully you're enjoying reading it, too! Though, I will tell you this chapter is a bit slow, but it's important, so bear with me.
I noticed that the my notes were getting really long from the thank yous, so I'm just gonna send a big shout out to all 12 of you who reviewed chapter 3, and another arigatou out to the 32 of you who have this story on alert. If you ever have any questions, I'll probably answer them here . Thanks and enjoy!
Each interview went as the first.
The name Ootori was heard, and the door was closed.
And locked.
And each day he would come back to Haruhi's apartment to her preparing him dinner, sometimes good, sometimes bad, and she would reassure him each time that he just needed to keep trying, and everything would be alright.
He would watch the news as she studied, and before she would retire for the night, she would ask what he would like for dinner tomorrow. He always said he didn't care.
His pseudo-married-commoner life would feel almost comfortable, at times.
But then it would occur to him, he himself had nothing, no money, no respect, just a name and two suitcases full of clothes. This name, Ootori Kyouya, was slamming every door around him.
He could not accept that he was nothing.
He would not accept this defeat lying down.
He wanted to buy pointless and frivolous things, and enjoy them briefly before casting them aside. He wanted to sleep in, he wanted to eat fois gras beside an above-ground pool. He wanted to be Ootori Kyouya, the hardworking though lethargic, practical but narcissistic young man who was somehow charming in his antipathy.
And so he polished the copper buttons of his suit, each morning, and walked out the door to try again.
Eventually a week went by, then two, and by the third, he decided something had to be done. He would need to rethink his strategy. And so he removed his glasses as he sprawled across her couch, the gears in his mind turning at an alarming speed, racing to restart his former life.
Each day passed in the same fashion.
She would leave before he would awaken, and she would return in time to eat a quick lunch with him before leaving for class or work, whichever the day entailed. She would arrive home in the evening before him, and she would prepare something for them to eat.
Though he never actually said it, she knew he was grateful.
She would work on her schoolwork diligently, and he would watch the news, and she would sit with him on days when she finished her work early. Occasionally she would fall asleep beside him, only to awaken with herself lying alone on the couch, blanket draped over her, and his tall frame resting in the armchair by the window.
The loneliness that she used to feel, passing each day alone in quiet monotony, seemed to fade away. Three weeks went by and then another, and he would come home every day with increasing melancholy, though she could feel something within him rapidly changing.
It happened, one Saturday morning, that when she picked up the mail from the mailbox she noticed a perfectly scripted envelope.
Morinozuka Takashi
She took it inside, and read the contents with a smile. Mori was well, he was so glad that she wrote back, finally. He had been worried about her, as had Hunny. He said he admired her hard work, that it was good to see she hadn't changed since he and Hunny had moved to Kyushu. He mentioned seeing Renge-chan the previous week, at a business gala of some sort, and she was glad to hear that Haruhi was doing well, too. When he mentioned that Haruhi was actually a girl, without even thinking she didn't know, Renge was absolutely shocked. Mori had laughed quite hard.
As did Haruhi, grinning down at the letter.
He proceeded to say he hadn't been able to reach Kyouya when he heard of Ootori Yoshio's death either. He was worried when the card he sent to the Ootori estate was returned. He knew Kyouya must be upset, more upset than he would let on. Tamaki had been asking him for Kyouya's address, too. Wedding invitations. Mori requested if she heard from Kyouya, to send him his regards and sympathies.
He signed the letter with his perfect, curved letters, and in the post script implored that she write him again. He really did miss her.
And so she wrote back, she didn't quite know how to write 'Kyouya is ruined and lives on my couch is quiet misery', so she just wrote that she'd seen him quite a bit lately, and she'd be more than willing to forward any mail or messages he or Tamaki might have. She said he didn't seem nearly as distraught as Mori had suggested. She'd send him his regards, though. She said that she had been studying like crazy, even though her time was getting more and more limited (without mentioning that was due to their friend the shadow king). She told him she hoped she could make it to Tamaki's wedding, but she didn't know where she would get the money for a plane ticket and a hotel. She was sure it would opulent, something as grand and luxurious and borderline insane. She'd expect nothing less.
And she sealed the envelope and dropped it in the outgoing mail slot, just in time to see Kyouya walk through the foyer door.
"Konbanwa, Kyouya-sempai," she greeted, looking into his dark eyes. She surveyed them as deeply as she could, looking for this pain Mori was convinced was there.
"Haruhi," he sighed, "lets go on a trip tomorrow."
"Where to?" she questioned.
"To my father's grave."
She was ashamed that she never noticed what was apparently there all along.
And so at the table, that night, after they ate a brief dinner, she took out her map of the bus routes. They would have to transfer twice, and it would probably take them an hour each way. She didn't mind. It was Sunday, no classes or work, and she didn't have anything planned. He gave her an uncharacteristic, sad smile, and suggested they go early in the morning.
"I'm here if you need me," she said softly as she sat beside him on her couch.
He turned his head slightly, unsure of what to say. She gave him a sympathetic smile, and placed her hand on his.
And simultaneously in each of them, something questioned. Something wondered where the line was drawn, the line that determined if they were friends from something deeper, roommates or a bit more intimate.
They both wanted something more.
But all they did was send a passive smile from one to the other, and listened to an interview with Hiseki Hiromi about her new album, Jazz Girl Orange. She said she was hoping to bring interest in ska to Japan, and would be going on tour in the fall.
"Sounds interesting," Haruhi sighed.
"Quite."
And they nodded off to sleep together, sitting side by side on her beige couch, inches apart without touching.