Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club (manga, anime, characters, pets places, etc.) It's all Bisco Hatori and her accomplices.
Author's Note: Spelling, punctuation, sentence structure and wordings in this story are horrible and the plot-line is luke-warm, for that I apologize. I must say though, I have never written anything other than poetry and essays so... I'm okay with it.
Please, feel free to read and review! I would love your thoughts!
(constructive criticism, nothing blatantly rude, please.)
"Is everyone okay in here?" A far-off deep voice filled the silence and multiple sets of eyes darted about the room to spot the source. The passageway gave officer Takumashii the creeps, not an easy feat considering both his job description and his capaciousness. His boots clacked conspicuously along with the other men's' following and he couldn't fight the shiver that trickled over his skin raising it in a mass of small bumps. The candles burning let out small hisses and crackles like something one would hear in a slasher flick. He approached an opening at his left, arched and framed with two wasted stubby puddles of wax that were still miraculously ablaze, pausing to regulate his breathing and brace for whatever was to come. Stepping into the room timidly, he could have kicked himself. It was obvious not everyone was going to be okay, with the information handed over to the police force that Ohtori Kyoya-sama delivered. He shuddered at the memory.
Cold grey eyes penetrated the very soul of any that dared to look at the screen. A young face adorned with sleek frames spoke slowly, menacingly.
"There have been some events occurring in my particular clique in which I must take full responsibility." The youngest Ohtori smiled, emitting an ominous aura that sent daggers of ice through the onlookers' spine.
"Though I do not have much time to explain the way in which I have done these things, I must also take responsibility for the actions that will immediately take place as this video is being played." A low chuckle rumbles through the television speakers, and the teen readjusts the frames on his nose.
"The deaths of Haninozuka Mitsukuni and Morinozuka Takashi will, unfortunately not be the end. Your orders are to send a small team to clean up at Ouran Academy north hallway basement area and to turn this video over to the proper authorities overseeing the corresponding cases." A flash of black took over the screen amidst the background sound of gasps and wide-eyed shocked silence.
Takumashii nearly jumped out of his own skin when the first thing he saw was black-clad shadow figures and their seemingly disembodied heads against the crepuscule with shadowed eyes that reflected the flames of candles. Freaky. Upon augmented glance, he noticed the body of the youngest Ohtori laying on the stone and the girl interpolated center the nightmare crew splayed atop the floor as well. Takumashii suppressed a yelp when one of the demonic shades began to approach, the men following were not so lucky. Nekozawa took only miniscule pleasure at his affect as his lip twitched the slightest.
"An officer, I presume?" Nekozawa was apprehensive and his voice barely masked it. This scene would not manifest itself in a positive light, no matter how much or how little there was of it. How would he handle this? Honesty? Let the strings of destiny fall where they may?
"Yeah. We were sent by Ohtori Kyoya-sama via video instruction and protocol." Takumashii lifted a thick hand to the back of his nape to rub away the creep vibes he was getting from the kid in front of him. "Not that I'm complaining, because I'm not... Less clean-up and all that non-sense, but you're alive?" The idiocy of the statement thundered through his skull as he mentally gave his brain a scouring with steel-wool of the mind. "Uh-..Umm-... Is there anyone injured?"
"Other than the unfortunate loss of a good soul gone to waste, every one in attendance is well enough." Nekozawa exhaled raising his hand to lower his hood. It would do to let the officers be more comfortable in his presence. Nothing favorable could come from uneasy authority officials. "But, it would do no harm to see professionals for our possible ailments. That is, if you would not mind?"
Takumashii pressed his lips in a thin line, furrowed his bushy brows and look up to the side. Protocol had mentioned nothing about possible survivors and the video was proof that they'd find the youngest Ohtori cold. A thick finger pressed into his dimpled chin, tapping a few beat before the man exhaled.
"Go ahead. We'll have officials contact you and your peers at the hospital if necessary."
~O~O~
"I'm fine, really Nekozawa-senpai!" Haruhi spouted emphatically interjecting his worried hands with her own cross-waving in front of her face. Truly, she felt better than she had in a week. Sad of course, but the veil had been lifted and she no longer hauled an all-encompassing dread, anger or utter sorrow. Almost like they had been exhausted beyond their limits, it was like she was pleasantly numb. Or at least, that's what she was trying to force-feed her mind.
But that's not right, is it? My friends are dead because of me and all I can feel is relief? shouldn't I be mourning? Shouldn't I be locking myself in my room and refusing all interaction.
Yes, their accumulative passing's tore a hole inside of her that would never be filled again. She was confused, she was horrified but would refuse her mind wandering too far. What was done was done, right? Her hands fell limply in her lap and her eyes followed dimly startling the ebon-robed man to the side of her hospital cot. A shaky hand advanced her face and she made no move to blockade. Her eyes burned from the pupils out, the flesh surrounding them swollen and bruised, no she couldn't easily forget the magnitude of circumstance that was now her life. Once-indebted host transformed to murderess; sordid survivor of Ouran High School's Host Club Massacre. Too much guilt, too much sadness, far too much anger, too lonely. In all, too many emotions to regulate.
She forced a pseudo-smile and allowed the hand coax her face toward his breathtaking cerulean gaze accented amass curtains of black.
"I'm fine." So quiet, devoid of ardor, she couldn't even fool herself. She didn't affray the embrace his strong arms drew her into, nor did she deny the assuage his chest and the all-concealing folds offered. Even as the wetness scalded her face and drenched the soft fabric of his shirt her mumblings remained the same.
"I'm fine." Her half-lidded brown eyes stared out against the darkness unseeing and flooded.
"I'm fine." Choked and barely audible to her own ears, she continued as if she were willing it to be true. She shuddered against the warmth and smell of spice as a strange calm fell over her. Stilled was the twisting of her stomach and the knot in her chest loosened when she heard his soft voice and felt the heated flow of breath upon her cheek.
"Haruhi..." His cheek pressed to her temple, he tucked her closer to his body. "'You don't always have to walk the shadows alone.'"
Her own words reflected back at her incited torridity at the center of her chest spreading remiss a kindle through her veins setting her skin ablaze. She reared back to absorb his features in all the amiable, sincere, concerned glory they held, she detected something else. Something that made her heart unclench and palpitate trying to keep the beat her being forced upon it.
"Nekozawa-senpai..." Her voice was foreign to her ears, rusted and crumbling on her lips.
"Umehito, Haruhi. Umehito... Please?" He longed to hear her waking form say his name, he needed her to know it was okay to feel close to him. That he would allow it. That she was worthy. The look on her face was like a razor pressed firm agonizingly droning across his flesh, it pained him so to see her torment. The events did nothing but ostracize herself from everyone else in her own mind. Even from herself. The dead eyes that looked to him now, he implored, screaming silently inside his mind, that the great powers that be grant him the opportunity to spark the life back into them.
"Umehito, I-I'm sorry... I can't-"
"I love you, Haruhi." It came out before he could think. The distressing possibility of rejection because she didn't feel worthy of his presence, too acrid to hear all the way through. "I don't want to leave your side. I won't leave you to the shadows to suffer the bitter cold forsaken. I wish this."
Her eyes widened at his confession mouth slightly agape, the words she requested of her mind escaped her and she just fell back into his arms. Pleasantly astonished and thoroughly confused, she could do nothing but take comfort in the steady beat of his heart.
"Will you grant me this wish, Haruhi?" The rumbling against one ear and the pleaded silk against the other forced the words out of her mouth without a struggle.
"Yes." On a sharp inhale intoxicated by the spice that clung to the fabric, the calignosity of the robes surrounding her didn't seem so dark and the obstacles she faced ahead didn't seem so daunting.
"...I love you."
