As per their usual routine, Kyoya entered the apartment via his spare key, their mail clutched in his numb fingers, having stopped by to collect it on his way up.
Despite whatever vehement protests he would muster against such a thing, Haruhi couldn't help but find it nice how genuine he'd started allowing himself to be. The Fujioka apartment was a pocket of space suspended between two realities, a safe zone where his restrictions and rules apparently didn't apply. Each passing day chipped away a little more at those not-so-perfectly constructed walls, allowing just a fraction more of Kyoya's true self to surface.
Through madness and rain and a little sun, he'd stumbled across a ragtag, rather unconventional family who, regardless of any misinformed fears, weren't just around whenever it was convenient for them. And maybe, tucked in the safety of the deepest, darkest corner of himself, he could admit that he liked it.
After all, he deserved much more than a family who acted like they were extras in the story of his life.
Luckily for him, the Fujioka's were more than willing to provide.
A bustle of activity greeted him, and he barely got a word in edgeways before Ranka dropped a kiss down on Haruhi's forehead (and squished her in a tight hug for good measure). Blowing an air kiss over at Kyoya (who caught it with a little indulgent smile, and tapped it over his heart), the man blitzed out with all the abundant energy of a hyperactive five year old, leaving both daughter and adopted tol son momentarily windswept.
Still, they recovered quickly, trading little grins as they continued on as normal.
Haruhi pushed a plate at him, and Kyoya obediently ate (still absently flipping through the mail and sorting it into neat piles), while she disappeared off to change.
It happened in the small window of time in which she had left him.
It being her fumbling to pull her sock on, losing her balance, and falling backwards. Her head greeted the nearby chair quite nicely, the resounding thump probably audible in China. Only… Kyoya didn't react. She couldn't even sense the classic electricity of his I-Am-So-Done-With-This-Disaster eyeroll.
"Don't tell me you choked." Quite accustomed to carrying conversations from other rooms, Haruhi absently straightened out her uniform, righting the dreaded sock with added force. "I swear to god, after those devil twins made Tamaki-senpai spit food everywhere, I've made a new policy. You make a mess, you clean it up. No exceptions."
No response. She couldn't hear even a hint of the low, hastily stifled chuckle of amusement she'd been expecting.
Was it strange? Yes.
Was it unsettling?
Yes.
Yes, it most definitely the fuck was.
Brows furrowed intensely, she poked her head around the door to investigate.
Kyoya was staring down at a letter in his hands in a way that couldn't be described as anything less than pure, undisguised horror.
Haruhi felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "... Senpai?"
It took a slow, agonising second for him to register her voice. And, honestly, as he met her gaze, she wasn't really sure whether she was grateful or not. Grey orbs, usually so calm and cool and focused, were wide, somewhat bloodshot, pupils dilated in a thinly veiled Fight-or-Flight response.
Shit, yeah. She felt so nervous she was already on the verge of parting with her breakfast in the nearest bin.
"What is it?" It came out more like an order than a question, with a shake to her words that she cursed herself for. "You're freaking me out. What's wrong?"
He forced himself to swallow down the lump in his throat, Adam's apple noticeably bobbing. A deep breath, and then he smoothed out the letter on the table, and Haruhi found herself creeping closer despite all instincts screaming at her to run. The words blurred together somewhat, but she could make out her address. And one horrible, soul-destroying name.
Naomi.
Her stomach dropped painfully. She felt as though she'd jolted from a particularly bad nightmare, only this was very real and infinitely more likely to cause her real, possibly permanent harm.
"Oh." She heard herself say, all distant and distorted. "That isn't ideal."
Trembling legs struggled to keep her standing. Haruhi sat heavily before they could Bambi out from underneath her, at least retaining some dignity in the slightly more graceful descent. Kyoya's own hands were shaking. He'd stuffed them in his pockets rather quickly, but she'd seen them, and that was a sight she could never unsee.
Then, in a second so subtle she almost missed it, his expression morphed into one of true neutrality, perfected over the course of many years. A true poker face, one crafted through blood and tears, meticulously hammered into shape until it was fake beyond perfection, but strong. Once again, he'd gathered his emotions and locked them up tight— banishing them into a dark crevice somewhere so deep inside his heart she wasn't even sure he knew where it was.
"Do you want me to read it?" He asked, steadily.
Part of her wanted to refuse. To snatch up the letter herself and get it over and done with. But her limbs weighed down on her like lead, and even the simple act of nodding was difficult.
She fought past the cotton-wool feel inside her head, forcing herself to focus on Kyoya as he pried the envelope open, lips thinned out into a sharp line.
He read the letter through once. And then a second time, much more slowly. Upon reaching the end, he appeared to be considering a third read, before Haruhi set a gentle hand on his arm and pushed it down, allowing hazy grey eyes to protrude over the top.
He bit his lip— a bad habit she'd noticed him picking up from her, and set the letter down on the table. Face twisted up in a manner that was almost constipated, he visibly fought against the urge to snatch it up and shove it in the nearest shredder. As if disposing of the evidence would somehow protect her from the singular glaring fact that Takeda knew where she lived.
Still, she cocked her head, and steeled her nerves, jutting her chin out with more confidence than she felt. "How bad is it?"
He smiled.
It was a wry sort of thing, strained at the ends and twitching downwards, a twisted imitation of the kind of funny smile adults employed when they didn't want kids to worry. She would've felt insulted, if it wasn't glaringly obvious that Kyoya was barely containing himself. He was teetering on the edge of completely breaking down, managing to steel himself through sheer force of will.
"Just the usual levels of crazy, I'm afraid."
Her eyes brightened a tad at his attempt of humour. She raised some of her own, hoping to alleviate his own tension. "How disappointing. I was expecting at least a little more effort on his part. What a let down."
The next half an hour was a whirlwind of activity, most of which Kyoya spent glued to his phone, dictating everything with frenzied precision.
Haruhi had two suitcases packed at her feet, one for her father, the other for her. The straps on her rucksack were at risk from snapping under all the weight of her notes and textbooks. Barely even glancing over at her, Kyoya swapped it for his sleek, Ouran-issued school bag, and although she scowled, she had to admit it was far lighter than her own.
A loud banging at the door had Kyoya shifting automatically into a defensive stance, and any doubts she may have previously held about his alleged self-defence training were promptly suplexed out of the nearest window. Kyoya came across as cold, and indifferent, with a sharp tongue perfectly capable of delivering on any threats he may make, and while he certainly was kinder and more thoughtful than he let others believe, never before had such raw power rippled from him.
Head cocked to the side, he listened intently to the pattern of knocks, before relaxing. "That was the all-clear signal. They must not have found anything." The arm he'd used to scoop her behind him dropped down, where he was able to snag one of the suitcases and start carrying it towards the entrance.
A thought evidently occurred to him, for he arched his head back towards her, and looked her slowly up and down. "Have you got everything you think you might need? It's not safe for the two of us to return here, remember."
"Yeah, I think so. You told my dad, right?"
"I did. Once Ranka's shift has ended, Hotta will personally escort him to my residence." Residence. Not home. Residence. Haruhi was left to wonder whether he even noticed how detached it sounded. "Your rooms should be prepared by the time we arrive. If you have forgotten anything important, Tachibana will be able to come back for it."
They were already late for school.
Tamaki had blown up their phones with a frenzy of panicked calls and texts. Haruhi had five missed calls from Hikaru, while Kyoya had six. Even Honey had spared a couple of worried texts, while Kyoya sported a singular, somewhat threatening "Call me." from Mori. Most went ignored, save for Kyoya's barely reassuring replies of "We're both fine, something came up, stop being a pest".
Evidently somewhere along the long, agonising list of calls Kyoya was forced to make, he had informed the Chairman of their… complications. For when they finally rocked up to school more than an hour late ("Goddamn traffic," A very irked Kyoya grumbled under his breath), their teachers barely batted an eyelid.
Over lunch, the bespectacled boy regaled the story of Tamaki's unexpected transformation into an Oscar winning actor, faking a sudden bout of illness in order to get himself and Kyoya excused from class, at which point he was able to freely and easily interrogate the boy, and like the tool he was, Kyoya folded within seconds.
Haruhi expected nothing less.
For the sake of what little sanity she had remaining, Hikaru and Kaoru actually managed to restrain themselves somewhat during class, only occasionally shooting her the stink eye. Their pouting lasted up until they could duck out of earshot, at which point Haruhi could safely promise to reveal all in the clubroom, away from prying eyes.
Even then, the worry only mounted, until the air was thick and heavy with tension. Kyoya couldn't help but check his phone every two seconds, and to the displeasure of both her and Tamaki, could only stomach a few measly bites of his fancy-ass meal before pushing it away.
Since he honestly did look rather sick, with a pale offset to his skin that was somewhat alarming, she didn't raise any protests, lest he emptied his guts right there and then. From Tamaki's pursed lips, it was obvious he was also struggling against the urge to force-fed his best friend, but eventually he let it slide without a big fuss.
The end of the day couldn't come fast enough.
The lessons seemed to blur together in a jumble of undiscernible colours and sounds. In what was clearly some divine intervention, Hikaru and Kaoru were actually making a conscious effort to pay attention, and were dutifully taking notes that were no doubt messy and imprecise, but thoughtful nonetheless. In a daze, she didn't protest to them subtly slipping said notes into her bag, or practically leading her by the arms to Music Room #3 at the end of the day.
Sharp voices emanated from inside, and hastily broke off as the doors were thrown open in the wake of the twin's hurricane level entrance. Tamaki threw a mutinous glare in Kyoya's direction, which the boy artfully ignored. Feet propped up on his chair, head tipped up to the ceiling, he looked utterly drained.
Even then, when the demonic screeching of his phone began (ringtone courtesy of the Hitachiin twins, sporting shit-eating grins), he all but dived for it, and almost had to physically beat three nosy little shits away so he could safely escape the room to answer it. Haruhi, Mori and Honey wisely decided that they rather liked having all their limbs attached to their body, and gave the group a wide berth.
The three of them jostled at the keyhole, and after a short and rather vicious decider of rock-paper-scissors, Kaoru ended up with his ear pressed against it, while the other two peered through the crack under the door.
"Should we do something about that?" Haruhi asked, sweat-dropping.
Honey considered it for a long moment, before beaming. "Nope! Want some cake, Haru-chan? It's lime!"
Five minutes later they were treated to the sight of Hikaru, Kaoru and Tamaki all taking a critical hit to the head as the door swung open and a very confused Kyoya returned. "What was that noise?"
Palm slapped to her forehead, Haruhi pointed at the terrible trio's comatose bodies with resignation. He stared at said bodies for approximately three seconds in inordinate disappointment, before stepping over Tamaki's prone legs and taking a seat on Honey's other side, nursing a warm cup of tea.
A hand dropped down on his shoulder.
Haruhi's heart leapt in her throat in tandem with a terrified screech from a newly-awakened Tamaki.
Mildly, Kyoya returned his cup to its designated saucer, and placed them both back onto the table. "Nekozawa-senpai, you do realise there are far less ghoulish ways to attract my attention?"
"I've been consulting the oracles these past few weeks, and I have seen something terrible. Oh, so very, very terrible." He warned, ominously. The room dropped into an eerie darkness, Nekozawa's voice seeming to echo in the near-silent space. "A dark curse has fallen onto the Host Club. I see a bleak future ahead of you all. You are all in grave danger, especially," A trembling hand pointed directly at Haruhi. "You."
She blinked back, unperturbed.
Tamaki had retreated behind the couch, shaking wildly with fear.
Suddenly, a beam of light hit him directly in the centre of his face. Releasing an unholy scream that shattered her eardrums, the cloaked boy retreated immediately at a speed that would make even an Olympic sprinter jealous, slamming a familiar black door shut behind him.
Smirking, Hikaru lowered his flashlight, his brother leaning a casual arm on his shoulder. "That never gets old."
With a roll of his eyes, Kyoya angled his head back. "You can come out now, Tamaki."
Blue eyes peered out from behind his cover, before he emerged completely. Suave and smooth and perfectly calm, he approached and took the last remaining seat, as though he had not been cowering underneath a table barely three seconds ago.
Now that they were all present and accounted for, Kyoya explained the situation, which went about as well as expected. Tamaki— likely having already expended his worry the first time around— merely sat with his head in his arms, unfathomable sadness hanging over him like a cloud.
Hikaru and Kaoru sobered up within the first minute. They sat with their shoulders touching, hands linked, Kaoru with his lips pursed tight, Hikaru with a harsh bunch to his eyebrows, but otherwise completely identical in their horror and disgust.
A sombre Honey was truly a soul-crushing sight. He sat attentive, Usa-chan on his lap, but not a trace of his usual cheer in place. Mori was no better. Wound up like a string, all righteous fury, his jaw appeared to be on the verge of breaking from how tightly he was clenching it.
Evidently, the gravity of the situation had just begun to dawn on them all. Sometimes it was hard to remember that they were all just kids. Despite their desired maturity, there was youthful naivety there— the kind that stubbornly refused to believe that anything bad could possibly happen to them. Because acknowledging that what they were facing was serious, and actually believing that self same thing with every fibre of their body were two completely different things. Deep down, they were all just denying the truth.
Being forced to confront that fact was akin to plunging into icy water. It left them breathless, senses shocked with the cold, brain struggling to process anything beyond the sea of unhelpful thoughts.
There wasn't really much that could be done.
Tamaki suggested to alternate houses. The twins then excitedly suggested sleepovers, and the three ran with the idea, electively deciding that they were all staying over at Tamaki's mansion the next day, whatever anyone else said be damned.
As they began to leave, a host wide group hug commenced around a resigned Haruhi. Kyoya sensed freedom for a few tantalising seconds of pure paradise, before Kaoru hooked an arm around him, and tugged him right into the centre, everyone taking extra care to avoid his neck. Kyoya continued to glare at him even when they broke off to head home.
"Oh, you're so screwed." Hikaru whispered, around a laugh.
Kaoru shrugged. "Worth it."
In the safety of the car, Kyoya finally handed over the letter once again. "Tamaki didn't think I should give this to you. Since I value my life, I disagreed. Read it, if you'd like."
She turned it over in her hands a couple of times, before smiling. "I appreciate the consideration, Kyoya-senpai, but I'm pretty sure that neither of us really wants me to read it." The sheepish quirk to his lips was answer enough. "Burning it seems like a good alternative, though."
"That can be arranged." He assured, glasses glinting maliciously.
Tachibana shot them an alarmed look in the rear view mirror.
He was also the one that provided them with a lighter.
Letter-burning complete, they headed inside, and even though this was not the first time Haruhi had visited, she was still swept away by it all. The house (more of a mansion, really) was massive, with sweeping staircases and elegant windows that spilled light into the room. Sleek and modern and clean, it was perfect, except it lacked even the slightest hint of life. It felt cold, and maybe that was why Kyoya seemed to hate it so much.
She was drawn from her thoughts as they were greeted by the she-devil herself. Winding around Haruhi's legs, Noel purred loudly. The girl immediately crouched down and began fussing over her, cooing gently. "She's gotten bigger since I last saw her." When Kyoya didn't respond, she glanced up to see him frowning down at them. "What?"
"Stop stealing the love of my pets." He scooped the kitten into his arms, smiling softly when she nuzzled against his cheek. "That's more like it."
"Spoilsport." Haruhi complained. She could have almost sworn he stuck his tongue out at her as they traversed down one of the many corridors in his maze of a house.
Along the way, they stumbled across his father, who had evidently been waiting for them. Haruhi immediately bowed low, respectful and polite as ever. "Ootori-san, I really appreciate you allowing my father and I to stay here. We promise not to cause trouble. Thank you for your generosity."
He waved her words away, genially. "You are a dear friend of Kyoya's, we will see to it to aid you in any way we can. Until this situation is resolved, both you and your father are free to remain here. I am, however, deeply regretful that such drastic measures were needed in the first place." He fixed his son with a stern gaze. "I'm sure this all could have been avoided, if it weren't for my son's stubbornness."
Kyoya bowed his head and said nothing, Noel shifting in his arms.
Her reaction could be summed up perfectly in three words. Oh hell no. Lifting her head up high, she met the man head on. "With all due respect, Ootori-san, Kyoya-senpai isn't to blame. I was the one that forced him to keep it a secret, against his advice."
"Be that as it may, Haruhi-chan, Kyoya is old enough to know that it is better to break such a promise if it endangers the lives of his friends."
Indignation flaring up, Haruhi was forced to swallow her protests when Kyoya placed a placating hand on her shoulder. Giving a stiff, awkward bow in his father's direction, Kyoya straightened up. "Apologies for the interruption, but we must be going. If you'd excuse us, I need to show Haruhi to her room."
With that, he strode purposely away, expecting her to follow along behind him.
She didn't.
Frowning, Haruhi clocked the great Yoshio Ootori for a long moment. "Not to intrude, but if you want Kyoya-senpai to open up to you more, rebuking him like that isn't the way to do it."
"Haruhi-chan, you've found yourself on a very exclusive list of people that my son cares about. When those people are threatened, you'll find that boy doesn't see any sense at all. Decisions made without proper consideration, especially by those with power, can be fatal."
She considered this with a polite nod, and raised a point of her own. "He's smarter than you give him credit for."
Distantly, she registered the sound of approaching footsteps. Kyoya had doubled back, apparently only just noticing her absence. She bowed, before following after the boy, leaving an intrigued Ootori in her wake.
Tucked in the safety of his room, the hours melted away. As the last rays of light were fading, Haruhi stretched, and leant curiously over Kyoya's shoulder. He had been hunched over his laptop for a while, quietly contemplative. A young girl stared back at her, around her age, maybe a little younger. "Who's that?"
Angling his head to the side, his lips tugged into a sad smile. "Naomi-san."
"Takeda's wife?" Kyoya confirmed that with a small nod. "She looked so sweet."
"Her middle school photo." He informed, tapping a couple of keys. Slowly, he flipped through more photos of the dimple-cheeked girl, all the way into adulthood. "She was a software designer, did you know? She worked at Takeda's company, I assume that's how they met each other."
She settled a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We can't change the past, Kyoya-senpai."
He sighed, almost dislodging his glasses as he rubbed his eyes. "You share some similar features. Both slight and petite, slightly boyish in figure— no offence. But her lips are fuller, and the facial structure is all wrong. Similar, but I wouldn't say alike."
"You're stressing." She observed, keenly.
There was a large silence, only broken by Kyoya slowly tapping his index finger. "I don't understand." He finally said, and Haruhi knew he was more frustrated than he let on.
"I doubt anyone could figure this out with what little insight we've got." She reasoned, and to her, that logic was perfectly sound.
Kyoya, on the other hand, was still visibly pissed off.
"Hey, we'll figure it out. We always do." Resigned, he sagged a little more into her touch. "Why don't we play with Noel? She's been getting crabby."
"I'd rather not get scratched, to be honest."
Haruhi tutted good-naturedly. "You only get scratched because you're a dumbass." He shot her a scandalised look. She placated him with a smile, and continued to practically flambé him. "All offence. Stop treating her like she's Antoinette, and you'll be fine. If you try to stroke a cat when they're in a playful mood, you're just asking to get a swipe." Pouting, he grabbed a nearby stuffed animal, which Haruhi smacked from his hand. "Use. The. Rope. Toy. Need I remind you that she's a kitten and has terrible coordination."
"When did you get so bossy?" Despite his complaint, he retrieved the suggested toy anyway.
"When you started being an idiot."
Laughing, they watched the kitten jump and dive around with reckless abandon. Leaning heavily into one another, they wished that life could just pause. All they wanted was a brief moment to just be teenagers. To be normal.
There, knees up and shoulders touching, they were safe.
And to them, that was enough.
A/N: It's happening, it's finally happening. Buckle up, gang, because the ride's about to get wild
Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed, it really makes my day!
Until then- stay strong
(Which is something I keep telling myself in the run up to exams- pray for me, I may lose whatever I have left of my soul)