So.
As usual, I"m sorry the update is so incredibly late. I'm already working on the next chapter, so hopefully it won't be such a long wait next time. Thanks so much for your patience and your reviews. I do so love and appreciate them. Never stop letting me know what you think, okay? :)
See you soon!
ssg.x.
Right up until the second Hikaru's lips met Haruhi's, the voice in his head hissed, don't do it. Then all thoughts were plunged into cool, blissful silence, lost somewhere between his mouth and hers. When he pulled away, he watched her eyes flutter open, and the thought of her closing her eyes when he kissed her made his chest ache. She brought her fingers to her lips.
"Hikaru…" she whispered.
He didn't see the slap coming. That's not to say he didn't deserve it, though.
"You're supposed to be our friend!" Haruhi shouted. Her arms dropped down to her sides, fists balling tightly. She looked like she was getting ready to hit him again. "Why are you doing this to us?"
"I am your friend. I just…I'm sorry," he croaked. He buried his head in his hands, leaning back heavily on the wall behind him. "I'm sorry, Haruhi. I don't know what I'm doing."
God, I wish Kaoru was here.
"You're destroying our friendship, that's what you're doing!" Haruhi cried. "Hikaru, I'll take responsibility for what happened last night, but today? Today we're both supposed to be in our right minds. This can't happen again."
Hikaru squeezed his eyes shut, not sure if, when he opened them again, he wanted to find himself in Boston a week ago, Ouran four years ago, or right here – knowing what it was like to kiss Haruhi. Okay, maybe four minutes ago, seconds before the kiss, just so he could kiss her again.
"I don't want to lose you," Haruhi said. After a beat, a blush rose on her cheeks. His stomach clenched. Her eyes widened, "As a friend," she added. "But I can't lose Tamaki either. I love him."
I love him, too.
"I won't kiss you again," Hikaru whispered. "I promise." He was nowhere near as perceptive as Kaoru was, but it didn't stop him from trying to read Haruhi's reaction to his words. She looked relieved, and he felt his blood start to boil.
"Thank you, Hikaru," Haruhi said, letting out a breath she may have been holding in. Hikaru clenched his fists.
"If…" he began.
"If…?" Haruhi frowned.
Hikaru squeezed his eyes shut. I do. I do love Tamaki. But did that mean he had to be beholden to him for the rest of his life? "I promise never to kiss you again if you tell me why you kissed me back just now. Tell me why you kissed me first last night. And 'I don't know' isn't an acceptable answer."
Looking somewhat taken aback, Haruhi unsteadily replied, "You'll have to accept it. I don't know why any of this happened."
"Not acceptable."
"Not my problem," Haruhi snapped. "Hikaru, I don't want to leave with us angry at each other, but it doesn't look like we're going to have a choice. Maybe once we're both back in Boston, things will eventually fix themselves."
Hikaru stood taller. The late morning sun pouring in through the glass doors leading out to the balcony cast his shadow along the floor further towards Haruhi, as though it were reaching for her when he couldn't. There would be no end to it, he thought. They'll both finish school, eventually go their separate ways, but not before Haruhi marries Tamaki, with him in attendance.
"I'm not going back to Boston." Hikaru said the words before he could be sure what he meant by them. Was it a bluff or did he just realize that the best thing for everyone involved was for him to…
"I don't mean right this second," Haruhi asserted.
"Neither do I," he said firmly. "I'm not going back to Boston. I'm staying here."
Haruhi tilted her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean? You're not coming back? You're never coming back?"
Hikaru stared at her silently, willing the desired reaction out of her. Because as he stood there watching her scratching her head of messy, dark hair, beautiful brown eyes staring back at his, searching for answers, he realized that he'd made up his mind. He would stay here, and he wanted Haruhi to hate that, to beg him to go back to Boston. It wouldn't make a difference, but he wanted it nonetheless.
"You coward," she spat. "You're trying to emotionally manipulate me just because I didn't answer your questions the way you wanted me to!"
Hikaru shook his head. "No. And you have no idea how I wanted you to answer my questions. I'm staying here because I'm useless in Boston. I can't think. You know I can hear you when you walk around in your apartment? I hear you moving from the kitchen to the living area, from there to bed. I know when you've finished breakfast, when Tamaki has slept over. I time my mornings around yours. I try to leave the apartment before you head into the bathroom for your shower so I don't have to run into you on the way to class."
"So I'm ruining your life, is that it? This is my fault?" Haruhi scowled. She yanked at the sash of her robe, cinching it tighter around herself, and turned towards the door. In his frustration, Hikaru grabbed her arm to stop her, squeezing harder than he meant to.
"No," he hissed. "You really can't not make this about you, can you? This is about me. I can't function there. I can't do it anymore. You've only known how I feel about you for less than twenty-four hours. I've been coping with these feelings for four years. When you kissed me last night, there was no going back. And it doesn't matter whose 'fault' that was."
Hikaru let go of Haruhi's arm. He was a little surprised when she didn't run off. Instead, she lowered her eyes as though she couldn't look at him any longer, teeth biting hard into her bottom lip.
"I should shower and get dressed. I'll…I should call Tamaki," Haruhi's voice trailed off as she abruptly turned and left the room.
Hikaru silently watched her go, wondering if she was going to tell Tamaki what had happened between them, and if she was going to end up finding another place to stay here in Karuizawa, pay a visit to her father, or just head back to Boston. He hated the way they were going to be leaving things, but he wasn't all that sorry to see her go. He couldn't think when she was around, and he really needed to think about how he was going to break the news to Kaoru that he wouldn't be returning to Boston. He wondered if there was any way he'd be able to do that without telling Kaoru about the past twenty-four hours.
Kaoru…
Would Kaoru be able to let him go?
Could Hikaru leave Kaoru behind?
Fuck. I'm such a drama queen.
The more Hikaru thought about it, the more sense leaving school and moving back to Japan was making. Haruhi and Kaoru both believed he could thrive away from his brother. And, like Kaoru said the other night, it wasn't like Hikaru had been permanently kicked out of the country. He could go back if he was unhappy, or visit on holidays.
And, really, his friends would end up back in Japan again eventually. Tamaki's grandmother had insisted on the wedding happening in Toshima, and no one dared argue with her. Hikaru knew that there'd be no avoiding attending the ceremony, but a single needle straight into the vein was preferable to a series of needles just missing it.
Hikaru used the phone on his bedside table to call downstairs and ask that someone be sent out into town to hunt down some tonkotsu ramen and pork cheek. He had become addicted to it while he was living in Boston. Most of the Japanese places near campus served commoner's fare. Onigiri, tempura, gyoza, ramen, rolls, et cetera; food that can be bought cheaply, eaten quickly and, if packaged correctly, travel neatly. The dish that left the best impression on him was the tonkotsu ramen, though he hadn't yet been able to put a finger on why. It was just food. Why should he have any emotional attachment to food? Who develops an emotional attachment to food? People like Tamaki develop weird, emotional attachments to food, that's who. And teddy bears. And big, slobbery dogs. And kotatsus.
And antagonistic, arrogant, nihilistic twins.
Within the hour, Hikaru was eating the tonkotsu ramen and pork cheek he'd requested while seated at the small table out on his bedroom's adjoining balcony as he thumbed through the latest issue of Grind on his tablet. He'd actually managed to stop thinking about Kaoru, Tamaki and Haruhi for a few minutes, distracting himself with editorial fashion spreads on skinny ties, velour waistcoats, and creepers. It was nice to be able to look through a magazine that didn't have "bride", "bells", "groom" or "wedding" in the title for a change.
Hikaru had finished eating and was about halfway through Vogue Hommes Japan when he heard one of the balcony doors open behind him. He turned his head, looking back over his shoulder.
Haruhi.
She was back in jeans and another ill-fitting sweater, this one navy blue, with a neckline that couldn't decide if it wanted to hang off of just one shoulder or both. She was wearing cute, pink ballet flats, though, and it looked as though she'd actually decided to use a hairdryer.
"Hikaru..." she called out, not really making eye contact with him. She reached up to sweep her long bangs off her face and tucked them behind her ear. Hikaru stood and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He really wanted to touch her hair. It was still weird seeing it almost down to her shoulders. There was a time back when he was in high school when he would have loved if she'd been able to grow out her hair like the girl in those middle school photographs Kyouya was always able to get his hands on. After a while, though…well…Hikaru literally didn't want to change a single strand on Haruhi's beautiful head.
"What?"
"I talked to Tamaki," she said.
Hikaru nodded slowly. "I see. Did you tell him what happened?"
"No," she replied, mirroring Hikaru by shoving her hands into her pockets. "It wouldn't be fair of me to tell him over the phone."
"Does that mean you're going to tell him when you get home?"
"I don't know," Haruhi sighed. "That isn't what I want to talk about right now."
Hikaru shrugged his shoulders; a lame attempt at nonchalance. "What do you want to talk about, then?"
Haruhi closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.
"What we were talking about earlier…" she began hesitantly. "I…I'll answer your questions the best that I can, if you answer mine."
Hikaru eyed her suspiciously. Why the sudden change of heart? He did a quick mental sweep of his closet for skeletons in case this was some sort of trick before nodding.
"You answer mine first and we have a deal," he replied. He held out his hand, and Haruhi, looking a little thrown by the gesture, slowly reached out to take it. Their handshake lasted a few seconds longer than it probably should have. The pad of Hikaru's thumb stroked Haruhi's skin beneath it. Her fingers curled into the palm of his hand. For a brief moment, they weren't shaking hands. For a brief moment, they were holding hands, and the reluctance to let go was palpable. Hikaru tried not to read too much into it; the date of the wedding was drawing closer and closer, and Haruhi was probably just using him to keep it at a manageable distance.
"Deal," Haruhi croaked.
"You sound strange, Haruhi. Are you coming down with something?"
"I'm okay, Tamaki. I'm still jet-lagged. It's nothing to worry about."
Haruhi gripped the hem of her sweater and the phone against her ear until her knuckles ached.
"I'll probably go right to bed after dinner tonight. I'm still really tired. I just... I miss you," she said, praying Tamaki couldn't hear the wobble in her voice.
"I miss you, too. How is Hikaru? Staying out of your way, I hope," Tamaki chuckled. Haruhi's shoulders tensed.
"What does that mean?" she asked nervously. Tamaki laughed again.
"You said you had a bunch of reading you wanted to catch up on, remember? Has he gotten you into any trouble yet? Don't let him drag you around town if you aren't feeling well, okay? The twins were never very good at taking 'no' for an answer."
Oh, god.
"Hikaru is fine. The house is huge, so I haven't seen very much of him," she lied unsteadily.
This was a bad idea. She was hoping the sound of Tamaki's voice would be comforting, but all it was doing was making her feel much, much worse than she already did. Of course she figured that Tamaki would ask about Hikaru, and that she would have to withhold some details about the past day or so, but it didn't even occur to her that she may have to outright lie to him the way she just had.
"I have a surprise for you, Haruhi. It'll be ready and waiting for you when you come home."
"A surprise?" Haruhi repeated, sounding more wary than intrigued. "What kind of surprise?"
Tamaki's surprises always varied from small and sweet to embarrassingly grand and much more fun for the golden-haired prince than herself. It could be a simple gesture, like leaving a tin of her favourite loose tea on the kitchen counter for her to find the next morning, or it could be something absolutely absurd, like Tamaki pulling up in front of the apartment complex in a horse-drawn carriage, dressed as Beau Brummel, insisting she let him give her a ride to class.
"A surprise surprise, Haruhi," Tamaki laughed.
"Tamaki, you know how I feel about surprises."
"Don't worry, Haruhi. I know you'll love it."
Haruhi arched an eyebrow. "No horses?"
"No horses."
"No music, or cosplay, or parades?"
"None of that," he insisted. "I promise you'll love it. Come now, Haruhi! Who knows you better than me?"
"Why did you kiss me last night?" Hikaru asked her again.
Haruhi's eyes fluttered closed. She took a slow, deep breath.
"When you told me how you felt about me…did you think about how it would affect my relationship with Tamaki? Or your relationship with Tamaki?"
Hikaru snorted, annoyed, and shook his head, "I'm not answering that. That wasn't our deal. We agreed that you were going to answer my question first."
Haruhi, her eyes still closed, clenched her fists, "Because I think that's why I kissed you. Because you didn't care."
"Of course I care. I wouldn't have kept quiet for as long as I had if I didn't care about our friendship. I only told you because –" Hikaru stopped, eyes widening and jaw dropping just a little bit. "Wait a second. Why did you kiss me?"
Haruhi sighed heavily, then cursed under her breath. Hikaru wasn't sure if she was frustrated with him for not understanding, or at herself for not making sense. "I think I kissed you because you're…you. I mean, you're haughty and selfish, and rude and insensitive –"
"Alright, alright. I get it. I'm a despicable human being," Hikaru snapped angrily. "I'm the anti-Tamaki. What's your point? Those sound more like reasons to stay the hell away from me than to stick your tongue in my mouth."
Haruhi gasped, looking absolutely mortified. "I did not stick my tongue in your mouth!"
Hikaru, not being able to keep from grinning at her reaction, brought his hands up to rest against the back of his head as he strolled towards the edge of the balcony.
"You totally stuck your tongue in my mouth," he teased. "I may be any number of awful things, but forgetful won't ever make the list. You think I'd forget something like –"
"Your first kiss?" Haruhi interrupted.
Hikaru stiffened, his arms falling down to his sides, his heart dropping into his stomach. "My first kiss?"
"I answered your question," Haruhi said quietly. "It's your turn to answer mine."
"You've already asked your question," Hikaru replied. "And I'm tired of this conversation. Just last night you were telling me I had changed. You told me I wasn't the same kid I was in highschool. Suddenly I'm an awful person again because I trusted our friendship enough to tell you what was bothering me when you asked? You wanted to know what was bothering me and I told you. I'm not sure how that makes me the asshole here."
Hikaru spun on his heel and marched towards the French doors leading back into his bedroom, nearly bowling Haruhi over along the way.
"I never said you were an asshole," Haruhi called after him. She had to jog to fall in line with his long strides.
"Oh, I'm sorry - you're absolutely right. You called me everything but an asshole." Hikaru swung open one of the doors, ducked inside quickly, and almost slammed it closed in her face. Instead, he inadvertently slammed it on her wrist as she attempted to grab his arm. She cried out and when he saw what he had done, he reached for her but she recoiled from his touch, jerking her injured wrist away from him, cradling it against her chest.
"Jesus, Haruhi! I'm sorry!" Hikaru ran to the phone at his bedside and called downstairs for ice, then, despite all her struggling, he firmly grasped her shoulders and guided her to the foot of his bed, imploring her to sit down while he had a look at her wrist. She swatted at him a couple of times, muttering, "Leave me alone" once or twice, but he was insistent. He ran two fingers across the palm of her hand then along each of her fingers, asking her if she could feel his touch.
"Yes," she replied quietly.
"Is it because I was bad?" he whispered, getting down on one knee in front of her.
"What? The wrist you probably sprained?" she hissed.
"The…the kissing. Is that why you assumed it was my first kiss?"
You may have fractured her wrist and all you can think about is whether or not you're a bad kisser? Geez, you are an asshole.
"No," Haruhi said after an incredibly long pause. Then, "I don't think anything is broken. Can you have the ice sent to my room, please?" She tried to stand up, but Hikaru gently squeezed the elbow of her uninjured arm.
"Was that going to be your question? Whether or not that was my first kiss?"
Haruhi shrugged her shoulders and looked away.
"Haruhi, I don't know why you've been so angry with me. I don't understand why you're trying so hard to hurt me. But…Christ. I'll do anything to make it stop, and if that means staying behind and rebooting my life here, so be it."
Both Haruhi and Hikaru looked up when they heard the knock on the bedroom door. For just a second, Hikaru managed to get a look at Haruhi's face, the tears moving down her cheeks, before she used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe them away. He was amazed by how quickly Haruhi was able to compose herself in the time it took for Hikaru to cross the room and open the door to the nurse waiting on the other side with a cold compress.
For some reason, seeing Haruhi interacting so politely with the nurse was affecting him in the most negative way. Watching her smiling at the woman, when only seconds ago she was glaring daggers at Hikaru, hurt him in a way he knew it probably shouldn't have, but he just couldn't control it. He knew Haruhi was trying to use the same strategy he'd used just yesterday to push him away, but understanding her motivation wasn't going to lessen the pain. She'd used him last night to temporarily subdue some feelings of doubt over her engagement, and today she was taking her guilt and anger over betraying Tamaki out on him.
He loved Haruhi, but he didn't like her very much just then.
"It looks like you've got everything under control here," Hikaru said quickly, trying to make as quick an exit as he could before he lost his temper and made an ass of himself. Again. Haruhi finally decided to attempt eye contact with him, but as far as he was concerned, it was too late. "Maybe I'll see you later."
"Hikaru?"
He paused in the doorway at the sound of Haruhi's voice, but didn't turn around.
"Yes?"
"Where are you going? I mean…in case I need you – "
Hikaru squeezed his eyes shut.
"You don't need me. I'm sure any one of a number of people here is capable of tending to your needs."
"Hikaru…" she said softly. He could hear the hurt in her voice, but it wasn't enough for him.
"Oh, and that question you asked me earlier?" he said.
Silence.
"The answer is no. Not by a long shot."
