In Which Kyoya Regains Some Control
Tamaki hummed absently, his nose buried in a math book. Kyoya looked over his glasses at his friend, who was probably the kindest person he'd ever met. Not once since arriving at Kyoya's house had he mentioned anything about Melanie or the demand for company.
"Jenna called me," Kyoya said.
Tamaki looked up and held his gaze. Kyoya's spine felt too tight under his skin. He'd never opened himself up to someone before Melanie. Especially not with anyone in the group, though they would kill for him, he knew. It was so much easier to bare yourself to someone you were falling for, he was learning.
"Did Melanie talk to her?" Tamaki prompted gently.
"No. She hasn't heard from Melanie since we did."
Tamaki's expression flashed between surprise and fear. "That's—"
"Impossible. I know." Kyoya threw his pencil on his homework and sat back. "I gave her the Hashimoto's contact information so she could call them."
Tamaki closed his book and put his elbows on his knees. "What do you think is happening?"
"I'm beginning to wonder if Melanie made herself untraceable not to escape us, but the Hashimotos," he admitted.
"You think she's in danger?" Tamaki's jaw clenched.
Kyoya shook his head. "It's curious, though."
Tamaki ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it. He looked away as he sat back, a contemplative look on his face. As Kyoya gazed at the closest friend he'd ever had, a bitter sort of smile twisted itself across his lips.
Tamaki glanced at him before raising an eyebrow. "Your expression is absolutely terrifying, mon ami."
Kyoya let out a hard laugh. "I'm in love with her, Tamaki."
"I know." Tamaki's smile was sad.
"I almost told her, the night she gave us all those portraits." Kyoya removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Why didn't you?"
"I don't know. The words just wouldn't come out. And then she kissed me." He chuckled at the memory.
"Diversion is her greatest form of manipulation," Tamaki agreed. "I watched her use it on you often."
"Yes, well." Kyoya put his glasses back on. "You know, Tamaki, I think it's time you tell Haruhi how you feel about her."
Tamaki's eyes widened, and his lips parted slightly. Kyoya couldn't help but grin at his friend's shocked and flustered expression.
"Y-you can't use diversion on me!" he sputtered.
"Who says I'm diverting?" Kyoya reached forward and pulled his homework into his lap. "You just never know what will happen. And Hikaru has been coming out of his shell more and more. If you're not careful, you're soon to have a serious rival."
Tamaki sank into a disgruntled silence. Kyoya dove back into his work, trying to rearrange his emotions into their proper places. It was some time before either of them spoke again.
"Kyoya."
"Hmm?"
"You're a bastard."
Kyoya laughed, looking up at his friend's tired smile. "Yes, but that's why you recruited me for your damn club."
"And look at us now."
"Yes." Kyoya looked back at his work. "Thank you, Tamaki. For everything. I've wanted to say it for so long, but I didn't have the words, I suppose."
"She's really changed you, Kyoya. In a good way."
Kyoya made a small noise of affirmation. "Tamaki."
"Yes?"
"If you don't marry Haruhi, I will make your life a living hell."
Kyoya caught the math book as it flew towards him, returning his friend's laughter whole-heartedly.
…
Less than twenty-four hours later, Jenna called him back.
"She says that they have no idea where she is," she said. "I didn't get the impression she was lying. She was grilling me for information."
"I'd wondered if Melanie was hiding from them," Kyoya replied. Something about this made him feel better. "She'll resurface. I'm sure she's fine."
"You'll call, yes?"
"If you will."
Kyoya pushed the box of her belongings into the deepest recesses of his closest. He got back into his club activities, his studies, and quietly observing Tamaki's floundering attempts for Haruhi's attention, which he didn't seem to know he already had.
He kept an eye on Hikaru, who was still taking Melanie's absence pretty hard. Tamaki thought they should talk to him, but Kyoya thought it best to leave that up to Kaoru. The twins had no experience with loss: they'd never let anyone close enough give them a chance to leave. Perhaps it was selfish, but Kyoya thought the experience was probably a good exercise for Hikaru.
He couldn't say the same for himself. While the daytime had become quietly restructured and controlled, he could not contain his dreams.
The crude ones were easy enough to handle. Of course he'd dream of running his hands over creamy skin dusted with freckles, having a hot mouth with adorably unbalanced lips work its way down his body. She had been his first kiss after all, the first girl to ignite that hot masculine side of him. Until her, Kyoya pretended to ignore the twins' snide comments about his sexuality being neither straight nor gay, but money.
Yes, the crude ones were easy. He would wake up hot and bothered and slip out of his boxers with no fanfare and little emotion. As his body bucked and his teeth clenched, he was able to think about her in a way that didn't hurt so much. And then lock her away in a part of his mind he very rarely accessed while in the company of others.
It was the dreams where she wasn't nude and arching into him that he was having trouble handling. In one reoccurring one, they would be in the scene of the final sketch, a warm wind dancing across their skin like a caress.
Sometimes she would sing and he'd lead her around on their strangely firm aquatic dance floor. Other times they simply laid around and watched the clouds pass, her small fingers brushing gently through his hair. In these dreams, one kiss from her, one touch, was infinitely more erotic than any of the other dreams his hormone addled brain could produce.
The days after these dreams were the worst—even if he woke up with morning wood, mouthing her name as he finished, she refused to be pushed back in the box he kept her in. During those days, he was absent, distracted. He spent a lot of time in his mind with her.
But each day, like all the others, passed. Kyoya was amazed to see the weeks melt by. Sometimes Jenna would call to check in, but as one month became two, as Christmas came and went, Kyoya felt that he finally had a hold of himself again. No, he wasn't whole. But he wasn't devastated, either. Everything returned to a kind of normal.
So of course this is when Hotta would burst through the doors of the clubroom as everyone was getting ready to leave. His dramatic entrance drew an adorably embarrassing squeak out of Haruhi.
"Sir!"
Kyoya eyed him suspiciously. The man was out of breath, and his sweaty face seemed reluctant, as if he weren't sure if being there was okay.
"I have some…news." His eyes darted to Kyoya's friends before finding their way back to Kyoya.
"Alright." Kyoya stood and approached the man. "Is this a private matter?"
"Well, I'm not sure." Hotta's brow furrowed slightly. "I don't think you'd mind if your friends knew."
Kyoya nodded. "Then go ahead."
"Melanie's been admitted to a hospital outside the city. She collapsed at her job—severe pneumonia."
"That's deadly, isn't it?" The distress and disbelief was evident in Kaoru's voice.
"She should be okay, but she's in terrible shape," Hotta said.
The room seemed to spin for a moment. It was so silent: was anyone breathing? Kyoya reminded himself to draw in some air, albeit unevenly. "How do you know all this?"
"A girl I'm seeing has a cousin who works there. She told her about this rich person's niece in her ward that had the prettiest red hair. I called the hospital and affirmed it myself."
"Okay." Kyoya felt himself nod once. And then again.
"For the love of God, Kyoya!" Tamaki snapped. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to call Jenna and tell her." He turned to meet his friend's blazing eyes with a roboticism that was frighteningly easy. "And then I'm going home to study."
"You should go to her." The disapproval was acidic in Mori's tone.
Kyoya shook his head slightly.
"Kyoya, I agree," Haruhi said gently.
"Perhaps this weekend," he conceded. He turned away as Tamaki's mouth fell open in outrage. He didn't want to hear the lecture. "She doesn't want to see me, remember."
If Kyoya had been looking at his friends instead of walking mechanically away, he'd have seen Tamaki throw up his hands in frustration, only to pause under Haruhi's steady hand on his bicep. He'd have seen Hikaru staring intensely at the ground, and Kaoru staring intensely at Hikaru. He'd have seen Mori shoot Honey a glance, which he returned with a shrug.
But he didn't see any of that. He was too busy trying to keep his heart from tearing itself apart with sharp, angry nails.
Author's Note: Shout out to Pennyflower, nanirios10, SarahELupin, alkorn, Loveless Wings, WritingSoul, DuchessAvalon, and I'mAtTheSoupStore18 for the favorites!
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