TW: Descriptions of Sexual Assault

Please stay safe guys, I've marked the area so please do skip that scene if it could potentially be triggering for you

Haruhi awoke to the force of a small human leaping onto the bed next to her. Thankfully this cretin did not land directly on her stomach, for she feared that their feet would slice right through her, into the bed, and cement themselves into the floorboards beneath her.

With a thousand megawatt grin bright enough to beat her retinas into blindness, Honey shoved his face right into her personal space. "Morning, Haru-chan!" The words had a lilting sing-song tone to them, and were severely muffled by the fat ass headphones she had covering her ears. Luckily, Haruhi was quite adept at lip reading, a skill that gave her far too much power, which she freely abused.

"Good morning, Honey-senpai." She returned pleasantly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Knee bouncing erratically, he reached forward and gently slipped the headphones down around her neck, and she was instantly assaulted by noise.

Snapping her head in the direction of the open door, Haruhi gaped. "What—"

"Hika-chan is panicking about his headphones." Honey said, innocently. "I tried to tell him that you had them, but I don't think he heard me."

Of course.

Biting back a groan, Haruhi stepped out of bed. The air was cool, and she'd much rather have the extra couple of minutes to lie in the warmth, contemplating the big Reason To Exist, but putting a stop to Hikaru's rampage was probably a higher priority.

Probably.

Honey skipped along beside her, having collected Usa-chan from where she was hidden by the pools of covers. The stuffed toy had been incredibly soft, and Haruhi only hoped she hadn't drooled on her during the night. He didn't seem at all fazed, and Haruhi was honestly surprised the small boy was even awake and functioning at this hour. Hadn't Tamaki made a big deal about how Honey and Kyoya were notoriously cranky risers?

Then again, Tamaki was a dramatic little shit, so she had severe doubts about how credible his information really was.

Shrugging to herself, she ducked out through the doorway, and almost immediately retreated.

An extremely cranky Kyoya was glaring poisonously at Hikaru, who was heaving for breath and quite possibly foaming at the mouth. Kaoru, utterly innocent for once in his life, was cowering at his twin's side. Both seemed too scared to even move. Considering how feral Kyoya was, Haruhi didn't blame them.

Popping his head around her legs, Honey deadpanned a quiet "Uh-Oh." which just about summed up the situation perfectly.

Before any daggers could be thrown, metaphorical or literal, Haruhi emerged, hands held in a peacemaking gesture. Honey was content to follow, though his steps held a little less bounce than before. Apparently he had the sense not to draw too much attention to himself.

"Hikaru, you're looking for this, right?"

She placed the headphones around his neck, absently straightening them when the arms fell crooked over his collarbone. Amber eyes went from hazy to focused in a single second. He almost headbutted her at the speed he glanced down, hand flying upwards to check the condition of his most treasured possession.

"There was a storm last night," She explained, without any hesitation. Part of her distantly realised she was bodily tossing Honey straight under the bus, but the words were out before she had adequate time to process them. "Honey-senpai gave them to me so I wouldn't hear the thunder."

A sharpened gaze snapped to the blond at her side.

The said boy scuffed his foot against the ground, peering up shyly. "I'm sorry for taking them, Hika-chan. I was only trying to help." He bowed his head low, sincerely. "I should have asked first, but I didn't want to wake you up. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

Rubbing a hand down the back of his neck, Hikaru exhaled, blowing stray locks of hair off his forehead as he did so. "It's okay, Honey-senpai. I'm not mad." His eyes screamed LIES. "I'm just glad Haruhi was alright in the end."

Dusting her hands off, Haruhi turned to address the next problem.

She was faced with an empty corridor, and almost suffered a face-fault at the immediate whiplash. Kyoya had channelled his inner ninja, it seemed, for he had vanished into thin air.

Sighing, she followed the three boys down and had what was quite possibly the loudest, craziest breakfast to date. Haruhi was surprised nobody ended up with a fork shoved through their larynx. It looked like Kyoya was considering it, at one point, between almost falling asleep in his breakfast and startling at every loud sound. (Apparently he hadn't disappeared off the face of the Earth, and instead had slinked off to eat without them. Or, pretend to eat, that is).

And then there was the mad shuffle to prepare before school. Somehow Tamaki ended up with Hikaru's uniform jacket, which the two squabbled over for several painstaking minutes until Mori stepped in.

Haruhi could already feel a headache coming along.

A tug on her sleeve had her glancing down. It was Honey, practically vibrating with excitement. Haruhi would have been concerned about the state of the floor if she had any concern left to spare around gaping over how giant his eyes were. The sheer size of his blinking, doe-like stare was almost preternatural.

(Maybe Yasuchika was right all along. Maybe Honey really was an alien).

"Hey, Haru-chan! How about we go out for cake after school? You need something sweet to make you feel better after that storm last night, and what's better than a slice of cake? What do you say, will you come with me?"

Haruhi stared for a good couple of seconds.

In response, Honey's eyes somehow managed to grow even larger, and his bottom lip protruded in a small pout.

It was then and there that Haruhi realised that her opinion on the matter was more of a formality than anything. Apparently, she was going out for cake whether she liked it or not.

"Sure, Honey-senpai." She said, finally. "That sounds great."

He beamed, throwing his arms around her with an excited squeal. Haruhi patted his back, goodnaturedly rolling her eyes. Eighteen years old and he could still sway an entire room with one fake tear.

God, she was a weak ass bitch.

Somehow, Haruhi managed to last throughout the day.

She made notes in class, she ignored the twins and their many, many distractions, she forgot about everything.

For a while, at least.

Distantly, the cold ice of fear occupied a far corner of her mind, occasionally creeping closer. Whenever her breath caught in her throat, or she felt a heartbeat too heavy thump in her chest, she'd force her weight down through her heels and breathe deeply, exhaling all her worries in one slow, meditative burst. It grounded her, left her feeling more in control, and she needed that.

She really did.

Then lunch rolled around. Haruhi was promptly seized by the arms and dragged forcefully into what passed for a cafeteria in this ridiculous school, but was actually more like a 5 star restaurant. (Not that she especially knew what one of those looked like, she just assumed they'd both share the same quality of being extra as fuck).

Hoping for a relatively peaceful moment in all this craziness, Haruhi settled down.

Peace never really lasted for long around these idiots.

Take, for example, the resident Shadow King and his counterpart of incessant sparkles and sunshine.

Something she'd noticed about Kyoya was that he was rather fond of certain routines. Though, that wasn't to say that Kyoya was inflexible in any way. If anything, he could certainly be relied upon to be adaptable, which, with their friendship group, definitely came in handy.

Without Kyoya, half of the Host Club would probably be dead by now.

Herself included, actually.

Before everything went to Hell, and the days dragged by in one big blur, Kyoya would wake up, and leave to arrive for school at exactly the same time every day. He was punctual, perfectly on time for every lesson, and had a meal plan for the entire week, which he followed vigorously. (One time, Tamaki had jokingly compared him to a grumpy old man. In return, Kyoya 'accidentally' tripped him up in the hallway later that day).

Today, Monday, would normally be a delicate pork dish, with a dribbling of some tangy sauce she couldn't quite name and finely cut vegetables, all plated to perfection and mouth-wateringly appetising. Recently he'd started losing his appetite near the end, and would push the plate at her to finish.

He wasn't at all slick, and she could see his true intentions from a mile away, but she humoured the boy anyway. It was rather uncharacteristic of him to show his sweet side so openly, so she did feel a little touched.

And it was also because she wanted the food.

… It was mainly for the food, really.

Instead, a bowl of soup occupied the table directly before him, and by the vicious scowl he was shooting at Tamaki, the change evidently hadn't been his decision.

Considering the blond had literally jumped on his back to clamp his hands over Kyoya's mouth, Haruhi was honestly surprised that Tamaki was still all in one piece.

(Kyoya had flinched harder than she'd ever seen, and it must have taken all of his willpower not to immediately freak the fuck out and toss him into the salad garnishing. It was indeed an impressive display of self-restraint, although she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed for being denied such golden comedy).

Alas, with the right of speech revoked, Tamaki ordered from the both of them, and then hopped down, as if it were perfectly normal to mount your best friend in the middle of a crowded cafeteria. The female attendee barely batted an eyelash, and rang in their order without hesitating. Haruhi figured that her lack of reaction was a testament to the shit that usually happened in their crazy, rich-ass school. She also figured that lady deserved a raise.

(Hell, at the point Haruhi figured that she herself should be paid for dealing with all this crap on a daily basis).

Now lumped with the soup Haruhi knew he absolutely didn't want, Kyoya had finally stopped boring holes through Tamaki's quivering frame, and was idly tracing a finger around the lip of the bowl. He hadn't even attempted to eat anything yet, and Haruhi was quite honestly a hair's breadth away from throwing herself to her knees and begging him to just pick up the damn spoon.

He did, and she just about screamed her prayers up to the heavens. In case she jinxed this miracle, Haruhi frantically turned her attention elsewhere, tuning into the heated debate between the twins and a passionate Honey about what species of bear was the cutest. Which… was hardly even a debate at all, and more a spat over which one of them deserved to like polar bears the most.

Distantly, she wondered whether it was worth pointing out that they could all like the same animal just as much as each other.

One look at the spoon Honey was wildly gesturing with made her rethink her involvement. Mori seemed to agree with her, for his lips quirked up the tiniest amount, listening as the debacle unfolded with exasperation bordering heavily on amusement. (Tamaki had slid down in his seat until he was just barely peeking over the table, deciding that for once he was going to shut his mouth in order to continue living past these next five minutes. It was a smart decision).

For what certainly wouldn't be the last time, Haruhi wondered how Mori had managed to retain his sanity for this long. But then his eyes swept over the chaos with an expression that was more suited to one of the twins— the classic time to make everything worse look that had her stomach sinking.

Haruhi shook her head desperately. Oh lord above please no.

"Pandas." He deadpanned, and the table just about rioted.

She really needed some normal friends.

Kyoya, more regal that he deserved to be at this moment in time, ignored the chaos and chowed down. It was enough to stop her from wanting to self-induce concussion to escape this torture.

Using her foot to lightly prod his leg, Haruhi nudged until Kyoya looked up at her. He was clearly in another reality altogether, a kind of clouded look in his eyes, but the quirk at his lips evidence of the smile he was trying to conceal. "Yes?" He queried, continuing to sip at his soup like the refined little shit he was.

"Honey-senpai is taking me out for cake after school, so don't wait around for me."

Tamaki had apparently been dragged into the fray, if his loud whines were anything to go by. After a second of disturbed staring, Kyoya's distracted gaze flicked back over to her. "That's nice." He said, becoming increasingly more done by the second.

Smiling, Haruhi leaned forward in her seat. "Did you even hear what I just said?"

With a sigh, Kyoya held up an apologetic hand. "Do excuse me for a second. I need to take out the trash." Summoning his most frosty, fake ass grin, Kyoya clocked the other hosts. "Enthralling as this conversation may be, you happen to be disturbing everyone dining nearby. Need I remind you all that we are supposed to set good examples of behaviour for the rest of the student body, considering we have a club to run, and— Hikaru if you dare throw that spoon we will not hold cosplays for a month."

A collective gulp sounded.

The appalled look on Hikaru's face as the spoon was swiftly dropped had Haruhi smirking.

Expression perfectly neutral, Kyoya turned back around.

"You act more like their mother sometimes." She remarked, lightly.

Kyoya pinched the bridge of his nose. "I pity their mothers."

Kyoya, of course, immediately forgot everything she had told him at lunch.

Considering his lack of engagement, she wasn't really surprised by the revelation, otherwise she would have been more than a little insulted.

"Where are you going?"

Her amusement was openly displayed on her face, which evidently disturbed the boy more than a little. The grip on her upper arm went from completely lax, to unconsciously tighter, the motion a kind of anxious flex of his hand. "We talked about this earlier, remember? I'm going with Honey-senpai. To get cake."

Doing a pretty shitty job at concealing his confusion, Kyoya's hand became slack, and then released her altogether. For a moment, pure silence reigned. And then, with the air of fine bullshit that only someone who was desperately trying to cover up the fact that they had no absolutely clue about what was happening, Kyoya nodded slowly. "Ah, yes, of course. I remember now, you did mention that. It must have just slipped my mind."

Taking pity on the boy and his poor excuse for acting, Haruhi merely smiled. "That's perfectly understandable, senpai. It happens to the best of us."

The sour lemon reaction to her words almost had her laughing out loud. Kyoya seemed affronted at the very idea that he was anything less than a perfect being. Ignoring the blow to his ego, the boy absently smoothed down some wrinkles in his shirt. "Well, don't go crazy, you'll spoil your dinner."

Haruhi levelled him with a blank stare. "You really are a mother, senpai."

"I'm merely showing concern for your health. Would you rather I encourage you to develop Type II diabetes from this experience?"

"Honestly, yes."

Kyoya shook his head, a smile forming no matter how much fought against it. "As you wish. Please go forth and continue on your trip towards an unholy sugar rush. I really, truly envy you right now." As ever, he delivered his speech in utter deadpan, finishing with a sarcastic bow.

Haruhi curtseyed back, and was promptly spun by her shoulders and given a gentle push in the direction of Honey, who was patiently waiting by his car. She smiled over her shoulder, catching the kind of softness in Kyoya's expression that he would vehemently deny until the day he died.

Honey talked her ear off for the entire car journey, but she didn't especially mind. He was bright, energetic, his endless energy grabbed her problems by the throat and tossed them into the distance, somewhere so far she needn't focus on them, because she was safe and whole and normal for these few precious hours.

The cake, she discovered, was delicious.

One slice also cost more than her entire food budget for a week, which was likely the reason why Honey was so adamant about her not looking too hard at the menu.

Still, it tasted like something crafted from the heavens, and that at least she could appreciate. Even if it was ridiculously overpriced, Haruhi was definitely savouring every single bite. Honey, on the other hand, practically inhaled an entire cake in the blink of an eye. One moment the diabetes-on-a-plate was standing proud and tall, the next she was staring at nothing.

"Do you want another slice, Haru-chan?" Honey had frosting all around his mouth as he smiled toothily at her.

"I'm alright, Honey-senpai. But you can have some more, if you want." She amended, when she sensed an incoming pout. The suggestion appeared to appease him, for no crocodile tears were shed. Haruhi sighed inwardly, relieved at the near-miss.

"It tastes good, doesn't it?"

Haruhi couldn't keep the smile off her face. "I thought it would be too sweet, but it's actually pretty nice."

Honey nodded sagely, shovelling in a mouthful of what looked like a chocolate and lime cheesecake. "It's not good to be stressed. Takashi always brings me cake and Usa-chan when I'm not feeling happy, so I thought it would make you happy too." The statement is both innocent, and almost calculated. She has a strange feeling that he is gauging her reaction, and he probably is. "Plus it's nice to hang out like this, right, Haru-chan? It feels a lot more relaxed."

That, she can most definitely agree with.

Recently, an sinking sort of tension snaked into conversations, settling heavily in the silences, and wrapping tight tendrils around throats. It had breath catching, tongue stuttering over words. It brought hesitation, and a wariness that had her stomach knotting with unease.

Their fear was dormant, a loose wire in a circuit. The current would flow, briefly, electrifying their senses and there would be panic, oh so much panic, and then the realisation that they were safe, that there was no immediate danger would hit like a sack of bricks.

She liked not being scared.

Another part of her was clawing at her brain, stripping it away in perfect little ribbons of flesh. Being alright after feeling so shit for so long just felt wrong. At this point, that simple luxury felt like something that wasn't meant for her.

"Yeah." She agreed, eventually. "Thank you for bringing me here, I needed this. It's really pretty too— I can see why you'd so much."

The interior design exuded warmth— dark wood panelling on the floors and furnishing the seats, lined with soft, plush cushioning of a deep jade green. The booths were cosy, separated with lattice dividers that were elegant and smooth, the lighting soft and inviting. Candles flickered from within delicate holders, and the light danced when Honey flicked the metal, sending it spinning in fast circles that had patterns flashing up on the wood behind her.

"It's even better at Christmas! They have all these shiny lights up, and there's a biiiiig Christmas tree with all these decorations, and they light the fireplace in the middle there. It looks like a fairytale!"

Haruhi doesn't dispute that.

It really did sound wonderful, and if the pricing had been more reasonable, she'd definitely frequent this little cafe more often.

"There's a shrine in my neighbourhood that holds a festival at Christmas— I should take you guys this year. I suppose it's better than getting dragged along whenever Tamaki-senpai inevitably finds out about it." Haruhi mused, chin resting on her hand. "There's all kinds of stalls and games, and there are normally fireworks afterwards. You'll like it."

Honey, of course, was ecstatic. He almost thrust his pinky straight through her eye as he demanded for a pinky promise that she'd really definitely take them, which she obliged. Someday she'd learn not to get too far over her head. This was not that day.

"Will there be goldfish scooping?"

Tapping a finger against her chin, Haruhi wracked her brain. "I think so." She said, hesitantly. "I didn't go last year, but I remember there were a few shooting games, if you're interested in that. I have the perfect spot for watching the fireworks as well, so that should be fun. They're always so pretty, even if they're a bit loud."

Honey cocked his head, gentle and sweet all at once. "I'm sure Hika-chan wouldn't mind you borrowing his headphones. If you need to."

"Yeah." She agreed, with a light smile. "I'll have to ask him."

She had people she could depend on. Sometimes it was hard to remember that.

The blond finished off another two slices of cake before they paid and headed out into rich sunshine and a gentle breeze.

Across the street stood a bookstore, and it was the most majestic fucking thing Haruhi had ever seen.

Honey caught her staring, if his mischievous little grin was anything to go by. Hands tucked behind his back, swinging on his heels, the boy looked awfully smug. "Do you want to explore, Haru-chan?"

She gnawed absently on the bottom of her lip, fighting the temptation to nod. Eventually the urge won out, and she turned shining eyes on the older boy. "Yes."

"Go." He encouraged, and Haruhi had to stop herself from throwing her arms around him. How could he understand so much, and yet need to say so little? "You have five minutes on your own, okay? Five minutes. Keep your phone on so I can call you." He shook his finger at her, stern but so like a child imitating an adult that it came across more cute than anything.

"Five minutes." Haruhi echoed, almost giddy. "You're really going to let me go?"

Honey tilted his head. "Why wouldn't I?"

With that, Honey pirouetted on his heels and skipped away, Usa-chan swinging from his hand. She didn't particularly know what he was planning on doing, but she appreciated this small freedom nonetheless. Wise beyond his age, Honey was well aware of how much this normality was necessary.

She was fifteen for god's sake, she should be able to cross the street without her own personal escort. After being practically joined at the hip with Kyoya for the past couple of months, she needed to become re-accustomed to doing things alone.

A strange twist of loneliness curled in her stomach, but it was quickly stifled by pure, child-like excitement.

She was getting to explore.

On her own.

When was the last time she'd been able to do anything by herself?

She couldn't remember, and that alone was enough to bring a grin to her face.

That was until a hand curled around her upper arm and pulled her down the street, towards the main road. The contact was firm, and held a vague tremor. Guilt pooled in her gut, and instantly her eyes averted to the ground.

Shit.

Shit.

Of course Kyoya would be there.

He must be pissed.

Biting her lip, she chanced a quick peek up, expecting to see grey eyes clouded with poorly concealed worry, and that typical constipated knot between his brows.

Instead, her mouth dried out. Like at the dentist with a suction tube, it left her breathless and winded and feeling all inside-out.

Because it wasn't Kyoya.

Oh god, it wasn't Kyoya at all.

With that sickening sense of horror, Haruhi froze. Her heels dug into the ground, but it was barely even a hindrance. She stumbled, and was pulled forward against her will, slipping as she attempted to halt her progress towards a nearby car. The hand tightened, and she winced from the pressure.

"Let me go!" She demanded, finally finding her voice.

Takeda glanced at her. He looked positively manic, like an axe murderer on a killing spree. "It's alright, Naomi. I'll get you out of here."

The yell tore from her throat unwillingly, strangled and broken as she fought to twist herself out from his grip. Make noise, a shaky voice that sounded suspiciously like Kyoya ordered, make as much noise as you can, draw attention to yourself! You have to fight, Haruhi. Fight!

"No!" She was screaming now, and a part of her was painfully embarrassed, but god nothing was working and at least this way maybe somebody would help her, oh god somebody please help her. "Let go of me! I don't want to go anywhere with you! I don't know you!"

She tried to fight, she really, really did.

But if Kyoya couldn't fight him off then what could she possibly do?

It was like warding off a freight train, an impossible task that would only end in tears and pain. In no time at all she was wrestled into the back of the car, still screaming and kicking for all she was worth. Heads had turned her way, and the twittering was almost deafening. A young woman shoved her toddler into the arms of a nearby mother, and led a brave charge forward, but she was too late.

She was too late.

The car took off, Takeda gripping the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.

She was fucked, she was so fucked.

Her trembling hands found her phone and switched it on silent, jamming the device into some dark crevice where she hoped Takeda wouldn't find it.

Why.

Why did this have to happen?

Why couldn't she just be normal?

The question was more of a plea, a desperate cry from a scared child.

She knew why.

Deep down, she knew. Because safety and happiness just wasn't for her. She deserved this, this misery and constant fear. Because she brought this on herself, and this was how it was always meant to be.

The thought had her choking back a sob.

Takeda turned at the noise, placing a hand on her knee that was far too gentle, and had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "You're safe." He assured softly, but Haruhi had never felt any less safe in her entire life.

In retrospect, the drive wasn't very long.

To Haruhi, an aeon passed before Takeda pulled up at the curb, the whole structure shuddering as his front wheel mounted the pavement. She mentally debated whether or not it was worth making a run for it. Takeda was tall but weed-like, weak from a lack of personal care.

Of course, her brain provided the necessary counter argument that Haruhi herself was slow as shit. The only conceivable conclusion to that situation would be with her in chains and Takeda laughing at her piece of crap escape attempt.

A hand on the small of her back guided her into the house. Her skin crawled from the contact, and she wanted nothing more than to tear herself away.

The manic energy had disappeared, replaced with pure glee. It would have been heartbreaking if she hadn't been so terrified. "Do you remember, Naomi? This is our house."

Her tongue was heavy and awkward in her mouth. She couldn't talk even if she wanted to.

The door clicked shut behind them, and the noise echoed in her head.

Trapped.

That was what she was.

She was trapped here— with this psycho.

(And, in that moment, Haruhi was certain she was going to die).

Takeda hadn't found her phone, at least. Kyoya would be able to track it, and that was enough of a relief to her. He'd find her.

If he even cared about her in the first place.

"It must be fate," Takeda breathed, reverently. "Fate let me find you again— fate led me to you today. It's the only explanation. I missed you so much, Naomi. I missed you so much."

Fate was a bitch, Haruhi decided. A stone cold bitch who obviously had some kind of vendetta against her. God, was existing such a crime to whatever fucked up higher power there was? Why did they have to torture her like this?

(Because she deserved it. She always has, and she knows it, too).

He smiled, and pulled her on a tour of the house. It was dusty in places, enough that she wrinkled her nose up in disgust. But she followed, obediently, the hand on her back a reminder that she didn't have the power here and it was useless to pretend that she did.

God, she was weak. She was so weak.

(She let this happen. This was her own fault).

As soon as she could, Haruhi escaped from his presence. The kitchen was clean and pleasant enough, and that was a small relief in this shitshow. Bracing her hands against the smooth marble, she tried to catch her breath.

The weight on her chest was crushing, squeezing at her lungs each time she tried to take a breath. It was like she was forcing herself into a space a little too tight, twisting and edging backwards until she was shoulders up and suffocated on all sides. She forced her weight through her heels, feeling the way she was tethered to the floor, imagining great, strong roots spreading out beneath her, gold running from the tips of her toes and all the way up with every slow, measured breath.

She could almost pretend that she was safe and at home. Maybe with Kyoya. Maybe surrounded by everyone else.

But she could pretend she was somewhere warm and loving, where she didn't have to be scared.

And, for a moment, she almost believed it herself.

Of course, peace never lasted for long.

Not for her.

T/WARNING STARTS HERE

Warm arms encircled her from behind.

She hadn't even heard the door open.

Flinching, Haruhi spun around, and backed herself against the counter to try and escape his embrace. He didn't care, or maybe he simply didn't notice her discomfort, although pinning someone against furniture generally isn't considered polite.

"I missed you, Naomi." He murmured, softly pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It'll be okay now—" The lips moved to her cheek, right on the corner of her mouth. "We can start a family again. Everything will be just like before." Another butterfly kiss, this time against her jaw.

His smile was bright, eye alight with life. He stooped down to rest his forehead against hers, thumb gently caressing her cheek. "I'm sorry it took so long, but you don't have to be scared anymore. We're together again, now. That's all that matters."

Haruhi swallowed, trying to force down the lump that had risen in her throat.

Endure it. Another sharp inhale as his lips found hers, body tensing up in disgust. Just endure it. Kyoya must be on his way by now. Just wait a little bit longer.

Despite all her hope, he didn't stop his advances. The world shifted abruptly as he lifted her onto the counter, never ceasing the passionate attack against her mouth. Her attempt at leaning back as far as she could was in vain, it only allowed him further access to her jaw and neck.

Endure it. Don't resist— it'll just make him mad. Make him mad and he could make you dead.

(Maybe she deserved to be dead).

His teeth skimmed her flesh, and she yelped, startled. He merely chuckled, a low rumble in the back of his throat, nipping playfully once more, and maybe he thought she was enjoying herself, but Haruhi had never felt more sick in her entire life.

"You're so beautiful."

(It didn't feel like a compliment from him. Grey eyes flashed to mind, a little curl of familiar lips, voice so soft and earnest and— it wasn't for her. That perfection wasn't something she could have).

The hands against her waist travelled upwards, underneath her shirt, the unexpected cold making her shiver.

Endure it, she repeated, blinking back the moisture from her eyes. His fingers traced patterns over her back, playing with the material of her sports bra. Endure it. Don't make him mad— don't make him mad, Haruhi. Don't make him—

But then his hands dipped underneath that last barrier, cupping her breasts and she couldn't endure it anymore. She jerked away, and smacked her head against one of the wall-mounted cabinets. He must have misinterpreted her reaction for pleasure, for he continued to tease them.

"Stop." She managed to gasp out, trying to turn her head away from him, to break the pressure of his kiss. "Stop it."

He hushed her, and removed his hands to lightly capture her face. "It's okay now," He whispered. "You're with me. You're safe."

(She wasn't safe. She wasn't).

And then his hands went for her trousers, and something in her mind snapped.

T/WARNING ENDS HERE

All of a sudden her hands were slick with blood, and he was screaming, clutching the wound on his leg.

She didn't even remember picking up the knife.

It lay embedded in his thigh, winking in the light, and then she was running. She was running, her ankle throbbing horribly from landing awkwardly.

She tried to push the door open, jiggling the handle and throwing her body against it as hard as she dared, but it didn't give way. Fighting a whimper, she scrambled for the stairs and as she was slamming the door of the first room she came across behind her, she remembered that the front door opened inwards.

She was such a goddamn idiot.

Maybe there was an exit in this room.

Haruhi glanced around, hopeful, and that's when it hit her.

His bedroom.

She'd ran straight into his bedroom.

If he found her— if he caught her—

Bile crawled up her throat.

She threw up in a nearby bin, acid burning a loving path on sensitive skin, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

Below, Takeda was yelling for her, blinded with pain, sobbing past it. The creak of his slow, agonised footsteps on the stairs set her in a frenzy. With much difficulty, she pushed the dresser to block the door, fingers cramped and sore from the pressure, leaving an angry cut across her arm from where she'd caught it on the side.

The pain hit her hard, magnified somehow by the roar of blood in her eyes and the rush of colours swirling before her eyes.

In that moment, she felt more present, more real than she had in a long time.

And, once she had processed this, Haruhi realised she didn't want to be real anymore.

A/N: I have been waiting for this foR SO LONG-

It was a massive bitch to write though, around a second round of mock exams and other general adulting

Thank you for everyone that reviewed, favourited and followed, seeing each and every one really makes my day!

(Also, if any previous chapters have potential triggers that anyone has noticed, please feel free to point them out so I can apply a warning to the chapter in question)

Until next time, stay safe and stay awesome!