For surprise, an author's note. This story may not be the quickest to update, but update it does. To all who still miraculously have With(out) You on their favorites or story to follow, I apologize for the speed and give so many thanks. This is a story which sits heavy on my heart at times with the feelings I go through as I write it. It is also dear to my heart in ways that I always return after a time to write more. So those who, despite slow updates, still remain with this story...it means more to my heart than you know. I'm truly glad to have you and wanted to express my gratitude.

With(out) You

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." ― Anaïs Nin

Tamaki had thought it a miracle. It certainly hadn't taken nearly as much wheedling as he thought it should have taken to get the yes. He'd had Akira, the driver, take the detour and swing by the Shido mansion. With a quick glance followed by quick strides, Kyoya had slide into the vehicle with a stack of shoeboxes.

"Drive."

Any surprise Tamaki had on the other young man agreeing to this and actually coming with disappeared fast enough. Kyoya refused to answer or respond to any of Tamaki's chatter. And in the scant seconds Tamaki had taken to unbuckle, Kyoya vacated the vehicle with his tapped up shoeboxes. Converses? They didn't seem Kyoya's preferred style of shoes.

Apparently, the bigger miracle would have been in Kyoya actually agreeing to attend this together. At least the other young man managed to surprise Tamaki with saying yes and coming to the event together. Gazing across the people chatting and entering the building, he sighed and shook his head at his hopes being both fulfilled and dashed.

Upon entering, Tamaki glanced across the span of the large ballroom. The set up was the same as the past two days. The grand ballroom was filled with servers who carried drinks and food around the room. Decorations were up to the tens. Music played by a band off to the side on a built stage, larger screen slowly typing out various stories and quotes. Unlike the past couple of days, some of the drinks and food were set up on a table for people to grab themselves. Liking the abnormality, he grabbed a glass and lit up like a child at discovering thick chocolate milk inside.

No missing Kyoya here, he noted.

Interest piqued over the smaller monitors shuffling through various pictures and videos, Tamaki strode over, keeping his eyes open for Kyoya. The monitors were focused on just the class members Tamaki would have had had he'd come to Japan ten years back. Things he had missed out on. He didn't think he'd have it any other way now though. He still had a chance to know his classmates. The extra years spent with mother were difficult with her illness, but he was glad to have been by her side.

A few people smiled and greeted him as he made his way through, recognizing him on a past day with his father. Speaking of, his father had just been on his way out of the ballroom and spotted Tamaki as he did so. He'd grown worried enough on the international student not showing the past couple of days and was heading out to make phone calls outside about it. His father had waved it off, saying the young Ootori hadn't shown up yet either and she'd probably shared a flight from America with him. Tamaki frowned all the same. If his father was taking action, there did seem reason to be concerned.

Perhaps he should ask Isao when he stopped by for today's celebration. Perhaps he may have an idea over the American student his father so wanted him to meet. Pausing in his walk forward, Tamaki picked up a small ceramic cow set tucked in a flower arrangement. Charmed by the hidden cow, Tamaki smiled and set the cow back. Catching a familiar tune, he turned toward the musicians who were playing an older piece from Isao. Neither Isao nor Kyoya stood near the band.

It wasn't so much the idea of being ditched that bothered him. It was more the feeling he ought to be worrying on why. Why the bitter eyed young man agreed to the ride, why the rush out of the mansion and departing, why the boxes, why the deliberate cut path to disappear within these school grounds.

Slowly, Tamaki continued his way back to one of the monitors playing through various pictures and videos, curious at what he would find. Hoping for catching sight of Isao when he was younger, Tamaki watched, eyes darting between the screen and crowds near him.

A group of preteen girls in brown school uniforms giggled at the camera. Three boisterous young men passed by the monitor, loudly reminiscing on a water battle on the beach from the year before. Then Tamaki caught high schoolers at a dance, dressed in formalwear, spinning and smiling in the short video clip. A girl in a bright 80's flavored dress and bright tennis shoes grinned at the camera just before it ended. Tamaki grinned back. She wasn't Japanese, clearly the international student from America his father was all intent on him meeting. A tall, dark haired and solemn man paused beside Tamaki at the video before continuing his long strides past the screen.

Tamaki perked up at the next picture. The coppery hair stood out. Both heads of it. There was a young girl with wavy coppery hair pulled into two low tails, smiling brightly at the camera, appearing to have caught sight of the camera while she was practicing on the piano. Beside her with shorter coppery hair, the boy's face half turned, his eyes closed as he played beside the girl. Isao and…his sister. Another boy was in the picture too, turned to the camera and making a face at it. Wrinkled nose above a pursed, almost laughing lips, his face had a few green splotches of paint, his half-finished painting resting on the easel behind him.

Chattering excitedly, a group of women bustled into him as they moved past. The picture was changed when he looked back up. Before Tamaki could really take a closer look at the other boy with Isao. Could it be the same boy from the picture he'd seen sitting near the piano at the Sonoda place? With the easel, Tamaki stared blankly at the screen as he wondered if it had been a young Kyoya in both those pictures. Kyoya? Well, Kazue had said how her whole family had attended and Isao did nod his head in confirmation of being childhood friends. It very well could have been the other young man.

Then it hit. He and Kyoya could have been classmates. It made sense, but somehow, Tamaki had pegged the other man as older than him.

Several girls in the yellow dresses of high school smiled at the camera and at him. A group shot of what looked to be a past celebration, some sort of commotion going on that was filled with smiles and laughter. A study session picture flashed by next and he blinked in surprise, drawn out of his thoughts as he caught sight of the international student sitting beside Isao, a wide grin on her face.

Tamaki jolted back. His mouth gapped a little as he slowly walked back toward the screen. At the picture displayed.

A tall young man was caught in mid stride as he ran across the shot. His long black hair blew out behind him, the low tail throwing water droplets out. A few other loose dark strands stuck to his forehead. A large blue water gun pointed back at the person behind him, spraying water, as water sprayed at him from theirs. The American in a modest teal bikini dashed after him, laughing just as much as he was.

Reaching out, Tamaki touched the screen where the glasses rested on the young man's face.

The giveaway.

"Kyoya," he breathed out.

Laughing, water flying off of him as he directed a shot back at the young American woman, it was a Kyoya Tamaki had never seen before. Wouldn't have recognized. Had it not been for the glasses.

Before. This was the bitter eyed young man before. Before—

"No," Tamaki breathed out loud. "No, no, no."

A huge gapping loss hit him hard, harder than the loss of his own mother. He'd expected that.

Seeing this, seeing who Kyoya had been before group, when he had walked up and only expected Isao as a familiar face on the monitor. He hadn't expected this. This wasn't some possible picture of a young and innocent boyhood picture at an easel. This, this was far more painful and real.

His sight of the picture before him, Kyoya laughing, blurred. Tamaki could feel his whole face welling up and chest go numb. He looked back over to the young woman in the picture, blurs of skin and teal intermingling. It was her. Tamaki was sure.

He was certain. She was behind Kyoya declaring such a difference between being alive and actually living.

This picture…

Tamaki swiped at his eyes.

…Kyoya was living.

There was a snort beside him. Tamaki spun about. A petite young woman stood next to him, her brown hair swept into a simple low tail over one shoulder. Her face was bland as she took in the paused monitor, but he swore he saw a spark of sadness in those wide eyes. "Chikage-senpai clearly hasn't been told. Honestly. Rich secretive bastards."

Turning, the young woman fumbled awkwardly with her clutch, frowning as she rummaged. Hasn't been told echoed in Tamaki's mind and his body went ice cold. His father didn't know. Outside, making calls trying to get a hold of the American and his father didn't know. She was a classmate Tamaki could never meet. And then there was the classmate reeling in the aftermath, whom Tamaki had brought to—if he'd been cold before, he was numbingly arctic now.

Kyoya's face twisting at realizing he spat swears of English at Tamaki. An obvious skill in writing the language, lacking any pleasure or pride for it. The teal. A favorite color. A shackle to wrist and ankle. Fuyumi breaking down over an attempted suicide. Kyoya, here, where they met, where they became friends. Where she could never return. Months. And...no one knew. They showcased fun and smiling and laughing, in your face of happier times, pictures and videos. Her spinning about in an 80's dress and colorful tennis shoes. Converses. Those shoe boxes.

Those shoe boxes.

Putain!

A gasp struck the air and Tamaki whipped around. A woman, not Kyoya, stood, nearly at his eyelevel with her syrupy brown eyes wide in shock at the picture. A delicate hand trembled in front of her mouth. "Oh no. Someone needs to tell Chikage." Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Lips pursed, the young woman beside him finally drew out the cell phone, bungling her way with it before she placed it up to her ear. "Already doing it Mika-senpai."

"How does father not know?" It came out ragged as he spun where he stood, frantically searching the crowd. Where was Kyoya? Unrefined words flew through Tamaki's head. He brought him here! Here! He had brought him here. Where-Where was Kyoya!

Kyoya had been in group longer than Tamaki. His father should know. When the Thai girl had broken his arm, his father had known and sent a gift, calling her up. While his father may not be perfect, Tamaki knew the man honestly cared for the students and kept up on things of note. Health issues, marriage announcements, a death in the family, a birth in the family, accidents and environmental disasters. He'd even managed to keep up with Tamaki's life in managing to have letters secretly sent. To not know of a student's passing sounded impossible.

"What the hell does the newspaper boy think he's playing at?"

Tamaki stumbled back, away from the monitor. The two women were trying to calm down one of the twins. Which one, he wondered uncomprehendingly. The other twin spoke quietly. His voice was low and diplomatic. The picture stayed. A frozen proof. Tamaki stared up at it. Why wasn't the picture changing? Touch screen drifted through his head. And then, suddenly he saw it, they were all up there.

He could see the twins in the picture, one boosted up on the other's shoulders. Both the petite young woman back on her phone and the one still trying to calm the darker haired twin were also in the picture. The former looked reluctant, but clutched a water bucket in the picture. The latter had her straight black hair flying like a streamer as she ran after the American woman. He even spotted Isao's coppery hair, the pianist staying out of the water fight as he watched from the sidelines.

Friends. They were all friends with her. With Melanie Scott.

But why weren't they all in group as well to—

The image of those angry eyes full of pain and hate and so bitter flashed into Tamaki's head. Those bitter eyes, the shoving away and cutting remarks, refusing to be close to anyone or…

"I was there. Was there after the funeral. When my little brother tried to take his own life."

Blame.

Kyoya so clearly blamed himself for what happened. Went out of his way to torment himself, so he would suffer for her death. The man destroyed anything that allowed him actually live his life because she was no longer able to live hers...due to something he'd done.

"Tamaki?" A hand rested on his shoulder and he jumped, spinning. Startled, Fuyumi took her hand back. After a moment, she gestured to the man standing beside her and without the introduction, Tamaki knew from enough similar features. "This is Akito, he's an older brother to myself and Kyoya. We were wondering. You haven't seen him, have you? Have any of you?"

The group that had gathered around the monitor pressed forward with shaking heads. All faces tight in worry.

"Seen him Fuyumi-san?"

"The plan was for him to be under guard today at the mansion, wasn't it?"

"With your father giving the announcement, I thought it was agreed upon and that he didn't even want to come."

The more vocal twin began muttering vicious profanity under his breath and no one stopped him.

Akito snorted, eyes pinning down on Tamaki. Tamaki's mouth was gapping as his chest proceeded to panic. "My brother, my younger brother, is the direct opposite of Yuuichi. We all know he would do anything to feel the highest of emotions, pain being the easiest one he turns to. He slipped his guard and I think we know exactly where he is."

Both the young women and the twins went deathly pale in the face.

"He's here," Tamaki admitted weakly. Light headed, he stumbled back from everyone joining Akito in staring at him. "I...I didn't know. I invited him to join me. It was too easy to do that, he agreed, too easy, but—"

"What do you mean you didn't know Souh!" Flashing amber eyes followed the first shove, getting right back into Tamaki's face before shoving him a second time. "You're in group with him! And keep stepping in like you're his goddamn friend or something! Bastard! You're a piece of fucking shit! With your father the chairman, like the fuck you didn't—"

The others managed to pull him back, waving off any curious bystanders in a far too easy way that spoke of loud outbursts being seen as normal. Tamaki only had eyes for the others though. They all stared back at him in various states of shock, hatred, blame, denial, and horror.

"My father is outside trying to call her," Tamaki choked out. "He doesn't...I-I didn't know. Kyoya doesn't talk in group. I didn't know anything. I was just trying to, trying to be a friend. Try to...include him. I wouldn't have-I didn't know."

It was Fuyumi, tears rolling down her face, who reached out to him. Her hand pressed firmly, despite shaking, about his wrist and rubbed her thumb over his skin. "I believe you Tamaki. There is nothing to forgive. You didn't know. But now, we need to find my little brother and anything you can tell us to aid our search to find him before he does something he'd, well, something he wouldn't regret but should and probably will in the future."

"Definitely before your father gives the official statement today," the twin with strawberry blond locks spoke up. Akito winced at that and nodded in agreement.

"I'll be giving a statement during one on something I've kept out of the public eyes since December." The words drifted into Tamaki's head, the statement mentioned reminding him of Ootori and causing him to frown at Akito, pulling up the mental image of his father's friend.

"Speaking of." The petite young woman pointed behind them.

Ootori was striding up to the group in front of the monitor, that still displayed the unfortunate picture, face pinched under gray hair. Kyoya's hair was parted like that. Like his elder brother Akito. And just like...their father. Ootori's eyes flicked searchingly among them and then oozed with worry. Kyoya apparently also shared his father's expressive gray eyes.

"It wasn't an incident from here. Your mother hasn't told you yet?"

"Tell me of that group I sent you to."

"Let's see if you're sharp enough to figure out why I need you in that one."

Thunk! Thu-thu-thunk.

The noise stood out in the silence between musical pieces. Heads turned to see what it was, half not paying true attention as they went back to previous conversations. Tamaki's mouth went dry. Standing over the shoe boxes up on the built stage, familiar bitter eyes shone with menace, looking for all the world as though he perched precariously on a much different precipice. One he anticipated, embraced, was poised for the plummet, and promising to lunge for all he was goddamn worth.

Kyoya picked up and swung the mic stand in front of the speakers, killing any previous inattention and any lighthearted celebration as now everyone in the room took the time to take in the look on his face. The mic stand swung back and clunked into place in front of the young man.

"No." Fuyumi's hand fluttered up to her mouth, vocalizing the stunned shock which left them all frozen in their spots. "Kyoya."

And everything inside of Tamaki screamed with her. No. It cut through all the staggering realizations that left him speechless, unable to portray the sound out into the silence Kyoya created. Don't do this. No. Kyoya already allowed his hatred of himself to bleed and rip and fester and it permeated outwards into the loved ones who refused to fully give up on the young man. It was his weapon of choice. Ready to blow up the entire ballroom. In a belief that he ought to be hated, truly, deeply, massively hated. No. Don't do—

"Melanie Scott...is dead."

Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you. — Roger Ebert