My Muse
Chapter 17
Slowly and reluctantly, Hikaru tilted his body towards his alarm clock, as the piercing sound he forgot to dismiss punctured a hole between his eyes. And it was when he lifted himself on his elbows that his stomach turned and he finally realized what that terrible taste in his mouth was.
He drank last night - he guessed - from that, and the ugly hoard of Kiuchi bottles lines on his nightstand.
It'd been a long time. There were times he'd sneak shots of Miako's tequila she had hidden in his cabinets, but he couldn't remember the last time he was hungover.
He couldn't remember the last time he wanted to get drunk.
It took him a minute, of cursing at himself, and staring at the ceiling, but he remembered now. He was angry, and when he remembered, that sick feeling crept up to his chest, making his skin feel hot. He hated this feeling, and he hated being mad at her. And he was so blindingly angry, his head started to pulse.
Hikaru kicked the blankets away and rolled out from under the sheets. His bare feet smacking against the floor as he drug himself to the bathroom.
He shouldn't be angry, he thought, as he drowned his face in his hands over the sink. He had no right to be, and it was no fair to her. She didn't do anything wrong.
But why'd she have to have a fiancee? He ran his hands down his face, stretching his cheeks. Of course he knew, but he didn't think about it until he had to let her go last night. It never really set in until it'd grown dark, and it was just him and his hand that occupied his bed that night, as he choked out her name in a desperate gasp.
Knowing that was the closest she'd ever be with him, while itching for that closeness around him, left him feeling angry and lonely, and later, really, really drunk.
And the longer he mulled over it, as the hot bath water showered his chest, the more he started to insist that his resentment was completely justified.
There was no way Haruhi, who was beautiful and educated, and accomplished actually saw any worth in him. That greasy looking bimbo he saw that day at the gallery show, who was leaning against the bar. An umbrella martini sitting between his fingers in his hand, and a desperate redhead latched onto his shoulder.
He was a nobody, who thought his paintings were actually worth something. Which meant Haruhi probably supported him. Which made him even more angry.
Not only was he a greasy nobody- he was a mooch.
But before Hikaru could ponder anymore on- whatever his name was- a rattling thud came from, what sounded like the downstairs door, and he yanked back the shower curtain to poke his head out.
Was someone here? He didn't usually company. Haruhi never showed up at his house without him calling him first, plus it was her day off, and Miako hardly ever came before noon.
He looked over towards his reflection in the foggy mirror above the sink, and thought about his brother. He hadn't seen him in over a month, but he was the only one with a spare key-
Fuck, and he looked like shit.
He couldn't remember the last time he felt guilty for that - or if he ever had been - but if Kaoru saw him now, he'd have a fit. And he couldn't do that to him. Not now. Especially with his show being so close. God not now.
His skin was still damp when he shrugged on his clothes, stumbling into a pair of jeans he found on the floor, and barely gave himself enough time to dry his hair before he was dragging himself down the stairs.
And he was going to skip eating that morning, until he entered the main hallway and was immediately greeted with the distinct smell of fresh breakfast.
So Miako did show up on time?
Hmm- impossible. She can't cook.
But hot sizzling food wasn't the only thing he found. His house was clean too. Now, he might have been drunk last night, but he definitely remembered the mess of burnt dinner he'd left on the table last night.
Hikaru was about to peak his head into the kitchen, but the mysterious visitor quickly made themselves known when he heard the cutest little swear word from the corner in the breakfast nook.
Then all that anger and jealousy he had buried under his skin melted into sweet nothingness, when he turned and saw her hands, partially covered by the sleeves of, hanging onto the frame of one of his paintings on the the wall. Her dirty shoes stretching with her as she stood on her toes.
His shoulder laid against the door frame, watching her with a smile on his face that he could feel. "You've got to be the loudest art thief I've ever heard."
Haruhi snatched her hands back, turning around like she was a child caught for touching something she shouldn't have.
"You're lucky you're cute. Or else I'd call the authorities." He added.
Her face fell into a guilty frown. "Did I wake you up?"
"Wouldn't have been a shame if you did." He said, making his way over to her, until he was close enough to wrap his arm around her tiny waist. She looked warm, snuggled inside of her big knit sweater. He almost wanted to.
"Though, I have to ask," he admitted, reaching a hand up to tilt the crooked painting until it was straight, "what made you want to come and see me on your day off."
"I..." her voice broke, and he ached to hear whatever sweet excuse popped into her head first. "- was wondering about you."
He smirked as he lent down and nested his chin on her shoulder. "You were thinking about me?"
"Wondering."
"Same difference."
Her hand found his hair, as it brushed against her ear. And he sunk further into her, feeling her cool skin, still smelling like the fall outside. And somewhere, a hint of cinnamon. In fact, the whole room smelt like cinnamon.
He looked up and saw the tiny flare of an inscense poking out from a vase on the coffee table.
"What were you wondering about?" He had to ask, amused. Liking the idea of Haruhi leaving small traces of herself in his home. Making it smell like her.
"It's about last night." She was quick. It must've been weighing on her mind for a long time. "I didn't want to be awkward, but I was kind of worried. I didn't want to bother Kaoru for asking about you, so I thought I'd just come by this morning- Sorry, I should have knocked."
"And- well," she looked around awkwardly, "you weren't awake yet, so..."
Last night? It made his head hurt from how fast the gears in his head started to turn, but he couldn't for the life of him remember anything from last night. Were they even together last night? He could have sworn he saw her off yesterday before dinner.
"Last night?" He mumbled.
"You don't remember?" She frowned.
Quick! girls hate it when you forget! Excuse! Excuse!
"I'm hungover."
Nice.
He gasped.
-Wait no!
"Oh," Haruhi grumbled. She looked disappointed, and it was then that he noticed she had fished her hand into her pocket was was fiddling her thumbs over the screen of her phone. "I guess that makes since then."
"Wait, no, no, no" He panicked, and grabbed her hand and it felt so small in both of his, and kind of cold. He never wanted to let go of it. "Look, if I said anything wrong don't- please don't overthink it. I had a long night. But I'm okay now."
"Oh," she said again under her breath, pulling her hand away, to sort of toss her phone between her hands. Her eyes left him, as she looked down towards the floor, and he could feel the ugly twinge of guilt creeping up to his stomach again. "Yeah... Okay. Yeah, Forget it. It wasn't important."
He sighed, and felt two inches shorter when the tension left his shoulders. But the complex look never left her face. It was tempting to ask what it was exactly that he did or said to her, but even more so he wanted to hold her face and kiss away every worried line on her forehead until she forgot all about it.
But before he could even think about raising his hands that high, her hands were the ones reaching out to hold his face. She cupped one hand over his cheek, and laid her other against his brow. But he stopped her once he realized what she was doing and pulled her hand away.
"I'm okay." He insisted.
"You have a fever." She argued.
"Leave it."
"Fine. Be that way." She finally huffed, pulling at her sleeves. "But the least you could do is eat something, since I went through the trouble."
Hikaru grinned. "Will you feed it to me?"
"No."
"You wound me."
Kaoru was thinking.
He was always thinking, but today was one of those times where he was thinking far too much about far too many things at once, that his coffee had gone cold and his work was left scattered across his station, in piles, completely abandoned.
And it was all because of a girl. It's been a long time since he'd thought about someone like that; or anyone, so vigorously. He was damn well exhausted just thought about yesterday.
Cheiko had reached across the table and took a hold of both his hands at once. He couldn't remember the time he held such intense eye contact with somebody, but at the moment, he felt as if his entire soul was trying to escape his body as she stared at him. It was exhilarating, and kind of terrifying.
And then she left. Without a word, and he stood up, wanting so badly to follow her and ask-... He wasn't sure what he wanted to ask. He had a million questions he wanted to ask her. He wanted to ask what she meant when she asked him not to let anything happen to him. He wanted to know what she was so afraid of. He wanted to know why she was so afraid for Hikaru, but words were hard to form as he watched her gather her things and leave.
And how he was thinking of all the ways he'd be able to see her again. Thinking of all the reasons why he'd need to call her again.
A Distraction.
His therapist's words felt like they were knocking on his temple.
But distracted wasn't really the word he'd use right now. Even though, from an outside perspective, he did look wildly disconnected from his surroundings. A little distracted.
"Kaoru?"
"Earth to Kaoru."
Though it didn't take long for the song in his head to end, and finally realize the little voice mumbling that word wasn't his therapist, but his mother.
He jumped, tugging out his earpod, as a pair of fingers snapped in front of his face.
"What?"
"Focus, you're spacing out," Yazuha clapped his hands over the sketchbook he was leaning over, before snatching it out from under his elbow. "Little late in the game to be scribbling isn't it? Have you even called Gregory about the seating arrangements? Do you know if the venue you picked will fix everyone's plus one? We don't want anyone sitting on the floor."
"You're talking too much, I can't think." He shot back. "I'll get to it. I've been busy."
"Where's your schedule? Have you at least finished that yet?"
Kaoru let out a long groan, as his mother's voice fluttered around him like anxious honeybee. He tilted his chair back onto it's back legs and shrugged a stack of papers out from this drawer. All 75 five papers weighed down her hand and she piped a cheery 'very good' before retreating to one of the chairs to ridicule it.
She clenched her jaw. "So you've picked blue lights instead of the purple?"
"They're showcase lights, mother, the venue's grey."
"I just don't think it's look as nice- but you know what? It's your debut. It's your decision."
"Thank you."
"It's you're failure. It's not like I tried to help or anything."
"I can't hear you, I'm relishing in my success."
But then there was a long pause, and all he heard was her long nails scratching against the paper.
"And... Hikaru's giving a speech" She said, in a curious mumble.
He shrugged. "I haven't asked him yet, but he'll do it."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Se asked, carefully.
But not carefully enough. Immediately he turned his chair around, brow flattening into a scowl. He looked away from his phone that was sitting lidly on his desk, ready to snap. "What?"
"To be honest, I don't think he should."
"I won't do it without him there."
"Kaoru, sweetheart." She tried to pick her words carefully. He could tell, and he just dared her to say the wrong thing.
Don't do it.
"You know I love Hikaru."
"Oh here we go." He groaned.
"But you have to understand you have to draw the line somewhere with him." She said, firmly, knowing she'd already lost him. "This is business. And this show is important to you."
"Not as important as Hikaru."
"Of course not." She sighed, softly. His skin felt like she was plucking him, then turning around and jabbing him with the pointy edge of a stick. "But Kaoru, you know the entire woman's rehabilitation association will be there."
"So?"
She deided to take a different route. "You know he gets uncomfortable around the press. It'll overwhelm him."
"Why are you trying to exclude him from everything? He didn't do anything wrong."
"I'm trying to do what'd best for you."
"What? Like he'll ruin it?"
"You know what I mean." She groaned. "Think about it from the business perspective. With Hikaru there, what're they going to say about you? The company's stock value dropped 4 percent since the lawsuit, and you want him to even give a speech at your closing ceremony?"
He felt a heat bubble in his chest. It'd been a long time since he was angry. It almost felt alien. "If Hikaru's not gonna be there, I'm canceling the show."
"Don't be like that." She frowned. "You can't prioritize him over the company when it's company matters. It'll ruin us like it ruined Ito-Co."
Suddenly, his chair slid across the room from the force when he stood. "That's not Hikaru's fault."
"You don't know that."
He stopped, and sunk back a bit, horrified. And Yazuha sighed again, interrupting him before he could get another word out. "Kaoru, you're going to be Chairman, you have to start making decisions that are best for the company, and Hikaru isn't apart of it, and he knows that-"
She flinched as she slammed his laptop shut, and watched as he swing his bag off the floor in one feral swoop. "Where are you going?"
He didn't say. He didn't know where he was going. He just knew he had to get away, because there were a lot of things he could say. He'd have plenty of ammo, and he didn't trust himself not to say them. He couldn't even look his mother in the eye before storming out of the room.
Hikaru was concentrating exclusively, on the pretty hand that his own fingers held against his palm, before his eyes slowly trailed from the knuckle he'd just kissed to the pretty girl sitting in the space between his legs.
She hadn't looked at him for quite some time. She was too engrossed in the travel magazine that laid open on her lap to give him much thought, but before he could even think about trying to grasp her attention, his front door opened without warning, and with a heaving grumble from someone in the foyer, the door slammed shut.
That certainly got her attention. Haruhi ripped her hand away, and was on her feet before Hikaru could even register the fact someone had just come in.
"Kaoru?" She questioned, warily, and he turned to see his brother standing at the bottom of the stairs, red faced, and hair tussled. Both hands holding the handles of two thick suitcases.
"What're you doing?" He asked.
"Nothing."
"Well don't let me stop you."
Kaoru hesitated, face slowly curling into expression that left wrinkles between his eyes, as he looked at the bright pink nail polish in his brother's hand.
"What're you doing?"
"Nothing."
There was a long pause between them before both brothers decided to leave well enough alone and went their separate ways. Hikaru laying back down on the couch, gesturing to Haruhi to come back to him, and Kaoru, stopping up the stairs to the guest bedroom.
"I should go." She mumbled after awhile.
Watching search for her bag, Hikaru forced himself into a couching fit. "Ah! The heartburn's back!"
"Imagine that."
"I need a cold press. You should hold your hands to my chest again. That made it feel better."
"I'll call Miako. I'm sure she has cold hands."
He grumbled.