Beauty Beholden
Chapter Seven: Beholden
Do you remember? Remember the night when we became one? It seems so long ago and yet it's only been five years…
It was the night of our school fair and for the first time since the divorce, both our parents were attending. To say we we're excited was an understatement. Though we hid behind our masks of indifference towards our classmates, beneath the surface we were desperately seeking our parent's approval and their love…
"Oh look, it's the Hitachiin brothers."
"I heard they did something special for the fair."
"What did they do?"
"I heard it was a painting. Their mother is the head of Hitachiin designs, so you know they must have a lot of artistic talent. I bet it's going to be great."
The superficial words of our classmates make no difference to us. To us they are simply 'them', and we are 'us'. 'Us' is at all the matters. But we hope; we dream that our parents will join the 'us'… but they are only them.
Halfway through fair, mother arrives. We greet her with our most polite smiles. Though she spares us a motherly glance, it isn't followed through to her eyes. There's no real love there.
Shortly after, father arrives; we haven't seen him in months; he's always away on business.
For a moment we're a family again.
With eager smiles we show them around, try to laugh and joke with them. But they don't have the time for us.
Mother gets an important call.
Dad is too busy making connections with the other rich and beautiful parents
"These are the Hitachiin brother's paintings?"
"They're very good."
"Who would've known they could paint so well."
"They could go professional."
"Their parents must be proud."
Pride takes time, time our parents don't have for us. Because our parents are outside, and it's quite possible they'll never be on the inside with us.
"I'm so sorry dears; I missed your entire show. I'll catch the next one alright?" Mother gives us a placating smile. We neglect to tell her this is the last show; this is our final year of high school.
"Sorry, Boys, I'm leaving town tomorrow for the states. I have a huge deal that's about to go through. We'll spend more time together next time." Father ruffles our hair, pretending it's alright. It's not alright. He could never make it alright.
Alone, again, we let the silence stretch out. We don't have to share words are thoughts are always the same. School ends in a couple of months; we're left with a decision, one that will change our futures. Follow the path left to us, or cut our own path, our own way.
"Kaoru…"
"Yes, Hikaru…"
"You heard what everyone said tonight?"
"Mm, we really could become professionals…"
"We could, but it will be the same as it's always been. They'll try to use us. No one will understand us…"
"What can we do Hikaru?"
"What if… what if we were one artist? Then we could live our lives without them. It really could only be us."
"Hikaru…"
"I know Kaoru… its crazy."
Hands reach through the dark grasping, holding tight; we are the anchors of our own world.
"I trust you Hikaru; let's do it."
No one could understand; no one tried to understand; it was simpler to fade into the darkness; it was easier to let our twisted nature turn in on itself. We had all the love they needed, all the kindness, the joy. The hate, the anger… when we didn't let anyone else in, then no one else could hurt us.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Hikaru kicked his blankets off for the twentieth time that night; flopping over onto his stomach, he punched his pillow in an attempt to find a more comfortable sleeping position. Sleep eluded him; no matter how hard he tried, his mind couldn't find rest. Too many confusing thoughts and feelings raced around inside him, all of them searching to be recognized and each jockeying for first place in the stream of his consciousness.
Thoughts of Haruhi clouded his brain. Never in his life had anyone been able to tell him apart from Kaoru, not even his own parents! Then she stumbles into his life, clueless, a tom boy, disinterested… yet sweet. Hikaru punched his pillow once more. All his thoughts stumbled about this way. Why couldn't he think of her without his heart fluttering, without this strange pang of wanting?
He'd known her only a few short weeks, yet she'd nearly become the center of his world, in such a short time. A thought struck him and Hikaru shot up straight in bed. Could Haruhi be… Haruhi is… Haruhi had entered his world.
Hikaru raked a hand through his bright red hair. When had this happened? He'd spent so long keeping a lock on his heart, trying so hard to keep everyone out, to keep himself from getting hurt again. She had slipped in as easily as putting on coat. As if she belonged with them.
Hikaru glanced over to the sleeping form of his brother.
'You probably figured it out a long time ago.'
There was no response, merely the heavy breathing of his brother's sleep.
But what did it mean to have her be part of their world? That was something he couldn't quite grasp. His world was too small for him to understand, yet.
Hikaru kneaded as his forehead, pressing white knuckles to the flushed skin of his brow.
"AH!" he shouted, "I don't get it!"
He punched the pillow once more for good measure before tossing it across the room. He stared at it morosely for a few more minutes. Thoughts swirled in his brain with no real form of release.
He stood abruptly. It was becoming painfully clear, he wouldn't be sleeping tonight. He stomped out of the room, in fear of waking his brother with his restlessness.
The main living area was dark when he entered. The muffled sounds of night time traffic filtered through the brick walls travelling down to caress his ears. Through the paned windows, feeble light cast an eerie glow across his skin. Hikaru stomped over to the couch threw himself down unceremoniously.
He could watch TV, but it had no appeal.
He simply let the night sounds wash over him, taking long even breaths trying to calm his racing mind.
"Haruhi…" he let her name fall from his lips. He liked the sound, but it held no relief for his thoughts.
Rays of dim light fell onto the glass coffee table, fracturing and sending narrow beams across the room. Hikaru put his hand through the beams, musing on the colors that danced across his skin.
"The light in the darkness…" he chuckled at his own corny line, "milord must be wearing off on me."
He closed his hands into a fist.
Haruhi, all his thoughts came back to her in the end. Strange tom-boy Haruhi, studios… and…he idled briefly with the thought of how little he really knew of her. With his recent realization that she was part of his world, he should've thought to learn more about her. He began ticking off things he knew about her.
Goes to school… does a lot of homework.
Works at Ouran Gallery…
Is forced to work at Ouran Gallery…
Is In debt to the gallery for a vase…
"Beholden."
Hikaru's eyes had slid closed, an image came to him. Soft light, smooth lines, yet darkness at the corner… darkness reaching grasping… the light fights it off.
"Beholden," he said it again.
The feeling of being trapped, shackled, tied down, no way out. Yet there was… in the distance there was hope.
Hikaru jumped to his feet. An image burned vividly in his mind. He bolted for the back room that they used for their studio.
He flung back the double doors, and stomped purposefully towards the wall where several unused canvases were stacked awaiting their moment to be chosen. When he reached the canvases, he took his time looking over each one, feeling the smooth canvas and checking the bindings. Each one was carefully inspected then set aside. Twenty minutes and thirty canvases later, he was at the last one, a 10'x10' that he'd had ordered for a commission which had fallen through. He'd never needed or had a use for it… until now.
Before his hands came to rest upon it, he knew this was the one. Already, he could see the colors in his mind's eye, the onyx, the deep purples and the crisp whites off set with soft yellows. Yes, this was the one.
Not without a bit of trouble, he eased the canvas from its space against the wall, dragging it over to his corner of the studio.
Once he'd carefully selected his base colors, he returned to the canvas. A strange sort of exhilaration shot through him. He hadn't felt this way about his art in a long time, if ever. He squeezed a generous amount of the base color onto his pallet, dipping his brush into the thick paint and with a quick stroke of his brush he had committed. He'd begun something he wasn't sure of but he knew once he was finished he'd understand. At the back of his mind he knew this painting meant something and everything he was feeling now would become clear.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Kaoru woke with the early morning sunlight dancing across his face. He stretched his arms tugging at sleep tightened muscles. Rolling over, he had his first realization that something was amiss. Rubbing sleep groggy eyes, he glanced over at his brother's empty bed. Kaoru blinked a few times owlishly, trying to register the unheard of sight. Hikaru was never up before him, Kaoru glanced at the clock, or this early for that matter.
Shaking off the mild shock, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Perhaps Hikaru had merely gotten up to use the restroom. Kaoru waited a few minutes for what he was sure would be his brother's emanate return. When none came, he became curios.
Kaoru shrugged on a pair of pants and a tee-shirt, before heading out into the living room. All was quiet in the early morning sunlight. Kaoru furrowed his brow with concern, he wasn't there. He checked the kitchen and several other rooms before making his way towards the back room; the studio.
He slid through the double swinging doors, soft music played on a radio in the corner of the room. Kaoru was surprised Hikaru had gone to work this early.
Hearing his brother's entrance, Hikaru turned to greet him with a smile. His bare torso was covered in a light sheen of sweat and paint flecks.
"Morning, Kaoru," Hikaru greeted cheerfully, before turning back to his work.
"Good Morning, Hikaru," Kaoru yawned. He walked over to his brother slumping over his shoulder to get a look at what he was working on.
Kaoru paused at the size of the canvas he'd taken on. The 'big' canvas had been sitting around the studio for months, Kaoru was glad Hikaru had found a use for it. Perhaps he was painting something for their show at Ouran Gallery. Then Kaoru noticed the color's he'd chosen. They were darker than his usual work, heavy blacks closed in on a kneeling figure, before bleeding into purples and blues, then slowly fading into bright white.
"Hikaru, is this for the show?" Kaoru unwrapped himself from his brother's shoulder to move in closer inspecting his brother's newest painting.
Hikaru paused, his brush hovering over the canvas before turning to meet his brother's gaze, "no," he shook his head, "I don't know what it's for yet. It just came to me last night when I couldn't sleep."
Kaoru squatted down to kneel next to the canvas, his eyes trailing over them messing of colors and textures that would soon become a great work of art. He could see something in his brother's eyes, something he hadn't seen there before.
"Hikaru, about the show… about what Tamaki said…"
Hikaru paused, his grip on the brush white knuckled, "What's there to talk about? We won't do it right?"
Kaoru sighed inwardly, he'd spent a lot of time thinking about what Tamaki had said to them; maybe it was time to stop hiding, but he couldn't do it without his brother.
"Nothing, don't worry about it…" Kaoru rose to his feet, "I'm going to have cook make us some breakfast, want anything?"
"Nah," Hikaru made a dismissive gesture over his shoulder, the tension from moments before easily replaced by concentration.
Kaoru headed towards the double doors, pausing just outside them. 'Whatever it is you're trying to figure out brother, I hope you do.'
And for the first time, there was no reply.
A/N: sorry for the short-ish chapter, my original outline had this chapter and the one before it as one chapter but I felt this should stand on its own and I needed a bit of a buffer before the events of the next chapter. *evil grin* Thank you all for your continued support.