Key in hand, Kyoya appraised Haruhi's apartment door with the intensity that suggested he was hoping for it to perform backflips, rather than just remain motionless.

Just yesterday Haruhi had entrusted him with a spare key, citing that him being able to come and go as he pleased would be less stressful for everyone. (How that could possibly be less stressful was beyond him. If he were to give someone the means to access his own home whenever they wanted, it was guaranteed to cause more stress. And possibly a string of homicides, too).

He could, however, see the wisdom in this decision. Over the past few days, Kyoya had spent most of his time at Haruhi's apartment, and likely would continue to for a decent while. Now all that was left was the challenge of keeping the key hidden from any unwanted (well-meaning, but nevertheless annoying) intruders.

Without further ado, he unlocked the door and quietly headed inside, realising far too late that he'd forgotten to warn Haruhi he was coming early.

As it was him, he hoped that his unexpected arrival would be taken to more kindly than if he were some of the other Hosts. As the ringleader for this impromptu session, Tamaki currently occupied the top of her shitlist. Kyoya figured his position was marginally higher than he would have liked, after his total lack of effort to oppose the idea.

To be fair, the whole study session made his job easier.

With all the hosts present, he had several more eyes on hand to watch and/or protect Haruhi if need be, which, aside from easing his many anxieties, would allow him to take any necessary phone calls without raising suspicion.

Placing his shoes neatly to the side, Kyoya headed for the noise of the vacuum, debating whether or not to shoot her a quick warning text. He scrapped the idea relatively quickly. Haruhi obviously hadn't heard him come in, and he wasn't sure that she'd even notice her text alert over the noise.

Just short of announcing his presence, Kyoya paused in the doorway, unwilling to enter.

Haruhi was listening to music, earbuds in, lost in her own little world.

She bounced around the room, humming the lyrics under her breath, the most carefree Kyoya had ever seen her. Sometimes he forgot that they were both still children, fifteen and sixteen, stumbling blindly through life with all the grace of a newborn fawn.

It reminded him that sometimes he wished he had a camera. Not a digital one. Or the one built into his phone. A polaroid camera that printed images in picture perfect squares. There were moments he wished he could photograph. Moments that struck a chord in him. That made him acknowledge that he did have a heart somewhere in there, god forbid.

Fleeting ones.

Barely even there, and yet, somehow the most poignant of all.

The way Tamaki's eyes lit up when he smiled, Hikaru's playfulness and the way Kaoru's cheeks dimpled when he grinned, Haruhi's rare moments of fierceness, or that one time Mori laughed so hard he could barely breathe, the action completely and utterly sincere, and Honey's startled expression as he witnessed this miracle.

He'd hang them all up upon those dreary grey walls, until they were lost in a sea of colour.

Maybe he wasn't too dissimilar to Tamaki after all... It was something that moron would be enamoured with, but for a whole host of different reasons, perhaps.

The notion in itself was ridiculous.

A childish desire to rebel.

One that hadn't diminished all these years, despite his various ways of venting it; his deliberate spiking of a rather unpleasant young man's drink, for example. He'd dumped enough tasteless laxatives in there to make even the most stone-hearted of people wince. (Kyoya himself had no sympathy for the man— he'd been very displeased with the bastard's attitude towards Fuyumi, seeing him put his hands on her was quite frankly, the last straw. Subsequently, the creep learnt a very important lesson on respecting women that night).

Those pictures would be a physical display to show his family, maybe the entire world even, that he existed. That he was living not just surviving, a far cry from the empty soul he'd been years before, emotions and desires trapped deep inside the walls he'd crafted for himself.

That he could finally see.

See the world in all its technicolour glory.

Or... maybe it would be for the days when everything felt so daunting. When he just wanted to stay in his room, huddled underneath the blankets and sleep his life away— then all he had to do was look up and remember what made life worth living.

But he was an Ootori, and Ootori's, if anything, were far from sentimental. There was nothing to gain from trivial things like mementos. The mere idea of trinkets and keepsakes were dismissed as useless, frivolous ideas for the soft-hearted.

Kyoya knew the importance of making sacrifices. If locking these thoughts away would get him where he wanted, then that was what he would do.

He'd committed himself to this challenge.

He wouldn't turn back now.

So Kyoya would commit every groove and edge to memory; the wrinkles around eyes and contours of faces, the sound of genuine laughter. In his mind, they'd be little balls of light, suspended around his room, chasing the shadows away.

He stood there, memorising the way the sun rays kissed her hair warmly, gold and bronze catching the light every now and again, her youthful face relaxed into one of utter peace.

There were no prying eyes here.

But there would be, soon.

He retreated to the front door, tripping over his feet along the way. She didn't hear the resounding thump as he caught himself, nor the drawn out creek as he inched the door open. Once the vacuum was switched off, he pulled it shut, with more force than he normally would.

Haruhi poked her head out of the room, curious but not alarmed, almost appearing to glow. "Kyoya-senpai? You guys aren't due for another hour or so." Confusion led into brief panic. "The other's aren't with you, right?"

"It's just me." He assured, and she instantly relaxed. "I was already in the area, so I figured I should drop by early."

"Oh?" She hummed, interested. "What were you doing?"

"I don't see why it's particularly important, but I was running some small errands." He said. You know, like a liar. "Since I'm here, I suppose I could lend my assistance. Is there anything you want me to do?"

Haruhi smiled. "Well, if you're offering, could you sort out the laundry? The wet stuff needs to be taken out, and there's another load that can go in."

He stooped in an over exaggerated bow. "As the princess wishes."

After the relative peace of the morning— relative, as Kyoya almost put too much detergent in the washing machine, and was promptly corrected (read: tackled) by Haruhi— the arrival of the remaining Hosts went just as well as Kyoya expected, complete with himself and Haruhi nursing identical headaches.

Tamaki kicked up a fuss solely because he expected to be the first one there, and was left to have his tantrum in his Corner Of Woe.

Meanwhile, Haruhi and Kyoya braced themselves for the shitstorm that was the twins, the aftermath of which resulted in Tamaki well and truly barricading himself in his little corner, and Haruhi's fingers itching towards the knife she'd used to slice Honey's cake.

(As ever, the blond senpai had arrived with his usual confectionery and cousin in tow, smile bright as a supernova and just as blinding).

Kyoya, unwilling to deal with the prospect of disposing of his former friend's bodies, appeased her with his slice of cake (it was far too sweet for his liking, anyway) and for the moment, disaster was averted.

That peace thankfully lasted throughout Kyoya's brief encounter with Hikaru, who he pulled aside to return his precious headphones. Hikaru all but snatched them from his hands, scanning them over with alarming intensity for the slightest bit of damage. He found nothing of concern, of course, and rose with a sheepish smile.

"Thank you," Kyoya ventured, before Hikaru could scoot off to locate his twin. The redhead froze, looking entirely uncomfortable with this sudden conversation, eyes darting for an escape. "They helped a lot."

Finding nothing which could possibly save him from this encounter, other than faking a heart attack (which Kyoya wouldn't doubt Hikaru had been honestly considering) the younger boy cocked his head, evidently resigned to his fate.

"It's not a big deal." He dismissed, awkwardly. "Just don't do it again."

Forcing down his indignation at receiving orders from Hikaru of all people, Kyoya nodded. "It wasn't particularly pleasant, if I'm honest."

Hikaru stared, amber eyes penetrating, calculating— a look that was out of place on the usually rambunctious twin. "Senpai," He began, after a sizable, almost unbearable silence. "I'm serious, don't do it again. You scared the crap outta everybody."

Kyoya's brows furrowed. "That wasn't my intention."

"What, you want me to say it outright?" Hikaru said, buzzing with an energy that was almost agitated, but at the same time, not. "Damn it, senpai, you're supposed to be the smart one. What kind of idiot just ignores something like that?"

Finally, it clicked. Kyoya's defences softened. "This one, apparently."

Hikaru's arms crossed tighter over his chest, fingers digging into his skin. Concern. That's what it was. Hikaru was worried. Worried about him, and wholly embarrassed about it. Maybe just a little bit scared, too. "You never told us about the migraines. Kaoru and I thought… I don't know, that you were really sick or something. We didn't know what the hell was going on."

We didn't know how to help.

"It's irritating, so I don't like talking about it. Tamaki only knew due to extenuating circumstances," A good natured roll of his eyes followed. "And the fact that he's a nosy bastard."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." The redhead stretched his arms up above his head. "Are there any more surprises you want to spring on me before I go? I swear, if I find out something serious while you're on your deathbed again, I'll kill you myself."

Kyoya hesitated, feeling as though he were almost being dissected. It was vaguely unsettling, yet, at the same time, familiar. Pot, meet kettle.

It wasn't much of a shock. Kyoya had figured it was only a matter of time before someone turned his techniques back on him. The shock came from the fact that Hikaru was the one sizing him up, trying to pry his secrets from him by the power of his gaze alone.

Unfortunately for Hikaru, he wasn't that easy.

"Well, now that you mention it, I do believe I'm in need of glasses."

"Hilarious."

On his way back into the main room, Hikaru thumped him on the back. That was likely as close to being supportive as Hikaru could manage. He appreciated it nonetheless. Kyoya followed some time after, only after taking a moment to soak in the relative peace.

The respite was alarmingly brief, with the deities above evidently hell bent on throwing as much chaos their way as possible.

Usa-chan almost became collateral damage in the arm-wrestle-turned-actual-wrestling fiasco instigated by the Hitachiins. On a side note, Haruhi's apartment was also almost destroyed in said incident, but somehow that couldn't nearly equate to the unholy horror that would have unfolded should even a single thread be out of place on Honey's precious toy. On a level of dead, to dead as fuck, they would've been deader than a hunter mauled by a feral bear.

After that, Haruhi threatened arson, murder, and prompt ejection from her apartment if they didn't sit their asses down and start revising like they planned to do.

Cowed, the boys crowded around her little table and buckled down.

Haruhi made sure to separate Tamaki and the twins, should they attempt to cause mischief. Unfortunately, that meant she had Kaoru on one side, and Hikaru on the other.

Kyoya prayed for her soul.

Like cats, they eventually got bored of draping themselves across her, and began quietly completing equations. Strangely enough, Haruhi seemed to have a kind of calming effect over the two of them.

A cutesy voice interrupted his reverie. "Kyo-chan, I don't understand this. Can you help me?"

"Of course." Kyoya leant across the table to get a better view of Honey's work. "What appears to be the problem?"

The said blond pouted, swivelling his book around to face him. He was grateful for that. While Kyoya could read upside down, it usually gave him a bit of a headache, and he was already suffering in general. "I can't get the answer right. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Kyoya's eyes flicked over the text, reading everything very carefully, giving little nods here and there.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Haruhi glance over. She was used to being able to toss over a question, "Can you explain this to me?" or "I'm going to make tea, do you want some?" or "I'm a little chilly, mind if I turn up the thermostat?" or even "Is it true that you're the reincarnation of the Antichrist?" And he'd give appropriate answers, sometimes confined to yes-no if he was concentrating hard. (The last one earned her a whack upside the head with a rolled up worksheet).

Obviously, she'd been intending to ask something. Likely related to the question she'd been struggling with. (Kyoya had been idly watching the ten minute process of her mounting frustration with much interest— and maybe a bit of amusement— from the disappearance of her smile to the emergence of her frown, lips pursing in a cute little pout).

Only she didn't quite manage to get the words out.

Interesting.

Almost unwillingly, her eyes flicked down, and then quickly and very deliberately shot back up to his face.

Kyoya's subtly followed, and—

Oh.

His shirt.

The way he was leaning allowed a decent view down his shirt, the loose cotton soft against his skin. It took less than a second for him to process, and a further half a second to act appropriately on this information. So of course, he leaned over even further, chewing absently on his lower lip as he contemplated the equation before him. He had to fight down a smirk as her eyes automatically followed him.

After a delayed second of unconscious staring, Haruhi rolled her eyes and looked away, catching sight of Honey's wicked grin. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, but Haruhi didn't bother to dignify him with a response. Kyoya's hand shifted to cover his grin, twirling his pen with his other hand.

Appearances surely were deceiving. Their little blond senpai apparently wasn't as innocent as he seemed.

Experiment ended for the meantime (evidently Haruhi had regained her composure) Kyoya hummed in understanding.

"Did you find it?" Honey asked, eagerly.

By this point, Tamaki and Mori had clocked on, and were watching with interest.

Haruhi, too, from in between penning down neat characters. Her brows were still furrowed together.

He'd help her after.

"It's right here," Kyoya used the end of his pen to circle a collection of numbers. "You wrote down a five instead of three. Once you fix that, the equation should give you the correct answer— the rest of your working is flawless as far as I can tell."

"Ah, I see!" Honey clapped his hands together, shooting him a megawatt smile. "Thank you, Kyo-Chan!"

Studying lead way into lunch, which Haruhi had promised would be homemade. In reality, Kyoya had coerced her into compliance— much to her annoyance— with the promise of Otoro as compensation for her troubles.

She had explicitly drilled into them that she wasn't to be disturbed, diuasading all three Main Troublemakers with swift efficiency.

Kyoya, of course, paid just as much mind to her demands as he usually did— namely none, and took shelter in the kitchen due to the excessive rowdiness of the other hosts. Honey had been a hair's breadth from accidentally taking him down, and Kyoya would rather not walk out of this experience with a concussion.

Unfortunately for him, she had no qualms about making him help her, and very quickly he found himself cutting up vegetables with the bluntest knife in Haruhi's arsenal.

There was no doubt about it, she still didn't trust any of them in the kitchen.

It was as he was slicing that Haruhi ventured out, in a sly, shady sort of way, "Say, Kyoya-senpai? I have an idea… It's very uncool. And while it's not illegal, it is a dick move."

He lowered his knife, certain there was an unholy amount of glee in his eyes. "I love it."

Over time, the kitchen slowly became more and more crowded as the other Hosts pleaded to help.

(At first, Hikaru and Kaoru only stared at him. Even with his back to them, Kyoya could practically taste their judgement.)

Temple throbbing, Haruhi issued tasks she believed suitable for each boy, and was proven spectacularly wrong. Somehow Tamaki managed to trip over Honey, knocking a plate from Mori's hands in the ensuing disaster, and the twins almost upended an entire bottle of washing up liquid in the sink before Haruhi stopped them because, quote the foam was funny unquote.

Morons.

Evidently clinging to her last remaining threads of patience (if Haruhi had any reservations about what would soon be unfolding, Kyoya was certain they were all but gone) Haruhi delegated Kyoya the task of babysitter, much to his resentment, and finished cooking the food.

Like a kicked puppy, Mori returned to help her serve said food.

Meanwhile, Kyoya was focused on getting Honey to sit down. He'd been poking around in some draws, pulling out whatever he could get his hands on and asking "What's this?" with his little head tilt and confused-question-answer face. Honey settled down at the sight of the food, quickly shoving everything back into place, his smile perfectly innocent under Haruhi's blatant disapproval.

"Here." Haruhi placed down the plates she was carrying. Mori did the same, and then took a seat next to his cousin. "I really hope you like it. I had to starve for three days to afford all this."

"Starve?" Tamaki made a sound akin to a wounded animal, and slowly disintegrated into dust.

"Starve?" Hikaru and Kaoru echoed, loudly. Their eyes almost bugged out of their heads. "What do you mean, starve?"

They dissolved into hysterical blubbering, Hikaru poking at the food and almost losing his soul to the ninth circle of Hell.

Only after Haruhi snorted and burst into laughter did they recover, finally catching onto the prank, and staring at Tamaki's pile of ashes in inordinate disappointment. "We're not cleaning that up."

Kyoya, already well-versed in the art of completely ignoring his so-called best friend, sighed and slapped a 1000 yen note into Haruhi's outstretched hand.

Damn her and her scarily accurate predictions.

She swiped it into her pocket with a smirk. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"That was pure luck and you know it."

"That sounds like something a loser would say." She hummed, around a mouthful of curry.

All in all, Kyoya could well and truly say that it had been a very... eventful day.

A/N: It is Wednesday my dudes (I apologise, the vine life is too strong with me. I can feel your disappointment). It's not even Wednesday, so add an extra sin for that

Whoop, sixth chapter out- my favourite one is coming up soon, I'm super pumped

Fuck proof reading, I'm a boss ass bitch. (I'm also hella tired lol, there is no WiFi at the place I'm staying at, I'm editing this instead of being social. Though when am I ever social lol)

Thank you for everyone who supported the last chapter and this fic in general. Also, don't be afraid of saying too much- detailed reviews actually help me fix plot holes that I may not have realised I have created

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed