"Haruhi?"
"I'm sorry."
…
He sat in his chair, in his room, in his mansion. Well, his study to be precise. His bedroom was not the place for thinking.
What was he thinking? He was thinking about the few hours before, the events that took place, the tears that were shed. Not from his eyes, of course. An Ootori doesn't cry (if you ignore Fuyumi. Kyouya had always thought she was really adopted into the family). Haruhi yelling at him at the top of her voice; he had never seen her like this. It wasn't right. It wasn't predictable. And when Kyouya cannot predict something, you know it had all gone wrong.
What was he thinking? Asking her that question.
"You know what day it is?"
Of course she wouldn't care. What kind of man was he? Yumiko could have been dying and yet he still asked her that question.
What was he thinking? At the time, that is. Perhaps it was the thought that a little light-hearted chat ought to have lifted the mood. But no, the mood was unable to be lifted. His daughter, his child, his baby had been badly injured and he cared about this?
Haruhi made a better parent than him.
But he couldn't admit that. A commoner, better than him? Though, she was no longer a commoner. No, if it weren't for her lineage, she was just as good as him. Perhaps a little better.
No. He couldn't admit that. Not to himself, not to anyone. No one.
But he let it slide a little. He couldn't stop belittling Haruhi, not after all she had been through.
Her mother.
Tamaki.
Cho.
Yumiko.
So much grief yet so little mourning. In his eyes. That day was definitely the day he saw her break. The day he was going to remember as…what was it? Her being "the worst mother on earth."
He let out a small chuckle. She called herself a mother. She was not biologically, or even legally, related to Yumiko. Yet she called herself a mother. A mother. A parent. Much more than Kyouya could be. What was he?
A business man.
A cold, cold person.
No regards for anyone else.
Only him.
That was how others perceived him. He didn't stop them. He didn't want to stop them. Was it, that by being distinguished as man like that, he could block out all others unimportant things?
Feelings.
Emotions.
Love.
Hate.
Guilt.
Love.
Guilt.
Love.
Was it that, at the current time, he wanted to feel those things?
He got up from his leather chair and paced around the room, the remainder of the sun's rays slipping down below the horizon, leaving his study in darkness. Almost like the remainder of Haruhi's love, that had just slipped away from him.
…
They arrived at her apartment a little after the sun had set. No one else was there. The older one checked each of the rooms, making sure no more masked men were still occupying the place.
"I guess we're gonna have to start clearing up?"
"I guess so."
Hikaru turned the lights on beside the door; they both saw the scene they had left hours ago.
Toys.
Glass.
Books.
A table turned over.
Plant pots smashed.
They each bent down, Kaoru having a little trouble with his broken arm, and started to clear up the living room. Hikaru picked a small pink bunny with both hands, clutching it tightly. He stroked the soft plush with his thumb; the bunny's face was smiling.
Why was it smiling? It had no right to be. Not in this situation. No, the face should be frowning. Crying.
It was not like Hikaru himself was crying. It was not like Hikaru himself wanted to spill any tears. It was not like him to cry anyway. He didn't cry. Didn't want to.
No, he was worried for Haruhi. She cried, and cried, and cried. She cried till she could cry no more. Yet now, in the hospital where he was not, she was probably crying more.
He did not understand why she was crying. She barely knew Yumiko; the toddler was under her care for a little over a month. Hikaru would not have gotten attached to something, or someone, that quickly. Were all women this emotional?
Another question shot out of nowhere. Why did she not love him that way? He finally let himself ask himself that. He was frustrated and angry. What was so special about Kyouya? Was it the way he resisted himself to all emotion, or maybe the way he tried not to make himself look desperate that made him appealing to Haruhi?
Why did Hikaru propose? Why did he need to do that, after several years of absence? It did not make sense; no sane person would do that. Then again, Hikaru was not sane at the time. He was lovesick.
He loved Haruhi. Ever since he had discovered her true gender, he felt inclined to talk to her, look at her, be with her.
He had been raised to think that he would find someone to love and, in turn, be loved back. But he hadn't been taught to deal with situations like this, situations of reject, because he did not expect them. Back in Ouran all the girls had fainted even at the sight of the twins.
But not Haruhi.
Damn Haruhi. Typical, the only woman he loved to not love him back. Or maybe she did love him, in a brotherly way. The way Kaoru loved him.
But that was not enough for him.
Hikaru felt angry. He thought he would be second best to Haruhi, after the King himself. But no, Kyouya was, reluctantly, second in place. How hard was it to get to a woman's heart?
Even so, Hikaru knew somewhere that he would never be with Haruhi.
An unexpected wash of jealousy arrived at his heart; why did Kyouya deserve her love? He did nothing but make her life a hell, or so Hikaru could see. It was not fair, not fair at all. But maybe he should let her go? Maybe it was time to accept the fact that she had fallen for Kyouya.
He didn't want to.
But he had to.
"Hikaru?"
Kaoru softly patted his brother's shoulder with the hand of his good arm. Hikaru looked up. He had been staring at the pink bunny for a minute or two. And what was this?
A tear splashed on to the bunny's cheek.
And another.
And another.
Hikaru was crying.
…
The moon was rising up in a starry backdrop. The night looked quite beautiful, Kyouya had to admit.
He sighed. He hadn't sighed in a while.
He rubbed his temples. Now that he did do, even more in the past few days.
He wondered. He did that a lot as well.
He wondered why he didn't cry. Why he didn't smile more often. Why he didn't let go of his rage that curled up inside and just start yelling at people. There were quite a few people he'd like to yell at.
Haruhi was one of them. She did not understand his situation. Or perhaps she understood too well. Perhaps she had a better way of dealing with it, maybe showing your emotion was not a bad thing. She too had had a child thrust into her life, an unwanted child that needed care and attention.
But she delivered. She gave Yumiko all that she could give.
Possibly a little too much.
This was proof, to Kyouya, that you should never get attached to something.
But he was attached. To Haruhi. He couldn't get enough of seeing her; he wanted to see her everyday.
Even if it was in a court room.
He moved away from the window and sat back down on his brown leather chair, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
This was not good. This was a position of defeat. But to what?
He had apologised to Haruhi. At that time, he felt bad for her. Kyouya had finally seen what the pressure was doing to her and pitied her. But he pitied himself. What was he doing, giving another person more responsibility than him? He liked responsibility. It gave him a sense of power and made him feel respected.
"And I entrust my only daughter, Harada Yukiko, to a one Fujioka Haruhi…"
He shouldn't have just given up like that. He should have continued to fight for the chance to be Yumiko's carer and guardian. After all, he was a father, wasn't he?
He wanted to feel like one. When he had heard he was going to be one, Kyouya was ecstatic. Maybe not in the ways of a normal person, but he was. In his own special way.
Of course, he had to appear as if he did not care. He remembered the moment when she told him, when Cho told him she was pregnant:
"Are you not happy?" She tried to hug him but he turned to walk towards the car.
"Why? Should I be?"
What an idiot he was! Why couldn't he have just been happy?
…
"Hikaru, you sure you're okay?"
They were both sitting on the floor; Kaoru had managed to push the clutter out the way for the two of them.
"Yeah," Hikaru sniffed, "I'm fine. Really I am."
"Should we come back tomorrow and clear it up?"
"No, Haruhi would want to come home to a clean apartment, wouldn't she?"
"Hikaru." He held his brother's chin up and looked him straight in the eye. They both knew Haruhi would not come back that night, or for the next couple of nights. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" Hikaru got up and tried his best to clear the shards of broken glass, some of which had blood on them. Kaoru knew his brother. He knew his brother well, and he knew his brother did not cry. He sighed, the night would be a long night. Hikaru was persistent; he would not leave the apartment until everything was cleared.
It was quiet for a few moments, cars being heard down below. Some inconsiderate people were beeping at others, honking their horns. As if other weren't trying to get some sleep.
Then there was blood. Only a little though.
Hikaru had cut his finger on a piece of glass.
"Damn it," he didn't bother to fish out plasters from the First Aid kit located in the bathroom. Instead he sucked his finger and carried on.
"You really should put something on that."
"Don't want to."
He was being a baby.
"Hikaru!" He grabbed hold of his older brother (which proved difficult with only one arm) and firmly looked him in his eyes. Those identical eyes, it was almost like looking in a mirror. Only Hikaru had changed as much as Kaoru had, their personalities taking different sides, their appearance was totally transformed. They were no longer twins by nature.
"Get a grip! You're acting like such a child, what is wrong with you?"
He loosened his hold and Hikaru took advantage of that. He quickly jerked back and stalked towards the kitchen.
"It's okay for you to talk. Your life's all sorted out, you're gonna get married, have kids, have more kids, have grandkids, have great grandkids…" He was babbling. Not good.
"Oh, so this is what it's about? Kaoru stood in the entrance to the kitchen, leaning on the frame of the door.
"What." It was more of a statement than a question, Hikaru rudely spoke back.
"Haruhi."
…
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