Haruhi was tired. She assumed it was from the lack of sleep, but maybe it was different kind of tired than she first thought. The deep kind of exhaustion that left her bone-dry and wrung out, but spared the circles around her eyes. She thought she might be a little sad, too. Or maybe a lot sad, but she couldn't really find the source of this sadness; she could just feel it tugging on her navel at 4am as she stared unblinking at the wall, Kyoya breathing softly next to her.

Or when Tamaki would laugh too loud and hastily stifle the sound, guilty eyes flitting around. Like he'd done something wrong. Something awful.

She thought that maybe she should talk to someone. Maybe she needed to talk to someone, to ease the weight pinning her chest to the bed. Wondered if her ribcage could take much more of the pressure, if it would just collapse and crush her heavy heart to pieces.

When she tried to move, her limbs were too stiff. It was all awkward angles and jerky movements, uncomfortable and wrong in a way that almost hurt.

She gave up.

Buried her head in the pillow and breathed.

The scent of Kyoya's cologne lingered. It had been hours since he'd dragged himself from the room, hair mussed from sleep as he trudged back to his own room for a shower.

They'd formed the routine over several weeks now.

After each long, hard day, Haruhi and Kyoya would bid each other a pleasant night and retire to their separate rooms, where they attempted to sleep. Inevitably, Haruhi would toss uncomfortably for several hours, or wake sweaty and confused and scared, and shuffle to Kyoya's room. Often, he would already be awake, staring dead-eyed at the ceiling. Less often, he was curled up on the right side of his bed, and would stir just enough to roll over and throw an arm around her when she lies down.

Inevitably, if Haruhi had managed to drift off into something resembling a peaceful sleep or she was too stubborn to leave her bed, Kyoya was the one who came to her. She'd wake at his presence most times, drowsily patting the empty space next to her, a silent invitation. The Kyoya that would stand at her bedside bathed in moonlight always looked much younger than the regular, day-time Kyoya. Glassesless, his face was open and vulnerable, and he looked, really looked, sixteen.

If she was awake when he cracked the door open, he'd still wait for her permission, carefully swinging onto her bed and curling up like he was afraid of taking up too much room. She appreciated it, appreciated him.

They found comfort in each other, wrapped in each other's arms more often than not, in a way Haruhi was sure was improper in higher society, but Kyoya never seemed to care, and she wasn't about to give him a reason to.

He wasn't good at comfort, not by a long shot. She wasn't either. She was too straightforward and logical, he was blunt and unemotional. Somehow, it still worked.

He rocked her through the aftermath of night terrors. She held him tightly through his ones, a hand in his hair, acting as a grounding presence when he felt like a loose kite in a stormy sky, tossed by turbulent winds.

She hadn't gone home in three weeks.

It was refurbished now, Kyoya's family moved quickly and she didn't doubt that the other hosts hadn't played a hand in the process. Her father moved back four days ago. He called her every night, visited just yesterday morning.

She missed him so much that it ached. He was a twenty minute drive away and she felt like she was falling to pieces without him.

In her first couple of days after her assault, her body determinedly caused as much chaos as possible. Every mealtime it committed self-sabotage, bringing up every meagre morsel she'd managed to consume. It left her weak and tired, stomach cramped and screaming incessantly. And still, somehow, it wasn't as bad as being separated from her father.

Mashing the pillow more firmly against her face, Haruhi sighed.

It was a deep sigh, one weary with countless emotions Haruhi couldn't even name.

Sure, she could move back to her apartment with him. Maybe that's really what she ought to have done much sooner, instead of imposing on Kyoya and his family.

But the memories plagued her every waking moment and poisoned her dreams like corrosive acid.

She couldn't go back there.

Not now, when she was so fragile both outside and in.

She peeked her head up when the door cracked open.

Tamaki greeted her with a smile. It wasn't bright, almost blinding, like his smiles usually were. This one was soft and whole and perfect as it was. There was a book in his hand, with a worn, much-loved cover. He didn't say a word as he took a seat on the floor, right next to the head of the bed. Long fingers flipped to the front page and Tamaki started to read.

His voice was honey. It was warm and golden and full of life. Every word, every phrase, it filled her from the tips of her toes up, shaking off the stubborn grasping of exhaustion.

She turned her head towards him. He wasn't not looking at her, not even facing her, not properly. He continued to read.

Haruhi continued to watch. To listen.

She didn't feel better, not by a long shot. Didn't feel as though the pretty words had fixed whatever was inside her that was obviously broken, maybe even shattered beyond repair. But she felt okay.

Like she could exist in this space, the way she was, for just a little bit longer. Like she could finally take a normal breath, when all the ones before had been gasps, too tight around her throat.

She felt okay.

And that was a start.

That was okay.

Later, she dragged herself out of bed, forced herself to sit through dinner. Kyoya sat opposite to her, unresponsive to his sister's bright, well-meaning attempt at conversation. Fuyumi had been visiting almost daily, desperately trying to bring comfort to Haruhi and her precious baby brother.

To an extent, it worked. Kyoya was far more willing to open up to her than his brothers or father, but he was still withdrawn and jumpy, retreating in on himself at a moment's notice.

As night fell, Kyoya trudged into her room without a single word, skipping their usual song and dance of trying to sleep apart. He liked it better in her room, she knew that for a fact. Her pillows always smelled of lavender, courtesy of the spray Mori had gifted her, and the scent relaxed him.

Haruhi slipped under the covers next to him, burrowing in until she was comfortable in his arms. He was wearing an oversized hoodie, clearly something he had stolen from one of his brothers, and it was soft against her skin.

She was asleep within minutes.

Some time later, she awoke.

The sky was still dark outside.

Her bladder twisted, almost spitefully, and she abandoned the idea of just simply going back to sleep. Kyoya had an arm wrapped around her. He moaned discontentedly, tightening his grip as she tried to slip out from underneath him.

His breathing was still soft and even, face lax in sleep. She tapped his hand, voice gentle as she coaxed him awake.

He made another sleepy sound as he bladder gave another uncomfortable twist. Like little butterfly kisses, his eyelashes fluttered against her neck. "Haruhi?" It was low and throaty, confusion threading between the syllables, groggy from sleep.

"I need to use the bathroom."

Kyoya mumbled incoherently, and lifted his arm off of her. She shot upright in an instant, ignoring the way he grumbled as he curled back under the covers and closed his eyes, uninterested in her mad dash to the bathroom.

It was after she'd flushed and was washing her hands that she heard it; a loud, disjointed noise.

"You okay, senpai?" She called, cautiously.

He didn't reply.

"Kyoya-senpai? Kyoya?"

Something in her gut twisted, and it wasn't her bladder this time.

She hurried to dry her hands and barreled out of the bathroom.

The bedroom was quiet. Moonlight, soft and silvery, crept in from the stubborn crack between the curtains. Kyoya was exactly where she left him. He'd curled himself up on the opposite side, small, small, and didn't stir as she padded closer.

The bed dipped with her weight.

Kyoya still didn't move.

Gingerly, she shifted back to her original position. The sheets were still warm from her residual body heat.

Kyoya stirred and rolled over, his arm settling back around her waist, curling in like normal.

He was trembling.

"Are you okay?"

She felt his heartbeat spike. It thrummed against his ribcage, sending panicked pulsations through her back. Her mind helpfully began to conjure up all kinds of terrible, awful theories. "I thought I heard something." He murmured, after an age.

Haruhi immediately tried to sit up.

Kyoya's grip turned into something resembling a bear hug, breath hot against her neck. "It was just Noel. She knocked one of my books off the shelf."

His heart still hadn't slowed. Haruhi's must be beating in rhythm, with how it was threatening to explode out her chest.

"We're fine." Kyoya said, and he almost managed to sound like he'd convinced himself. "Go back to sleep."

"We need therapy." Haruhi whispered, and there wasn't a trace of amusement in her voice.

Kyoya's chest heaved in a deep sigh.

For a moment, she thought he was going to protest, to deny the simple facts that they physically couldn't function right now.

They hadn't been to school in weeks.

The twins had been taking diligent notes for her. Tamaki had been covering Kyoya's end, bringing notes and school work, and a breath of fresh air. Mori visited whenever possible, bringing them little gifts, his mere presence a comfort.

She hadn't seen Honey in over a week. As time passed, her little blond senpai had only seemed to whither further, cheeks hollowing, eyes empty, devoid of light. She missed him almost as much as her father. Kyoya's own birthday had come and passed without celebration. He spent the entire day in his room, avoiding everyone under the guise of studying.

"Yeah." He agreed, eventually. And then, in a small voice, he continued. "Yuuichi has been looking for therapists for us. He's trying to find someone he trusts before the trial."

Haruhi nodded, sleepily.

Kyoya curled in even tighter. "I think we have to attend it. The trial. They're going to make us go."

The words were like a punch to the gut, waking her immediately.

"I heard Akito arguing with father and Yuuichi this morning. He doesn't think we'll be able to handle it. He was begging them to find a way around it. They stopped when they heard me coming, but it doesn't bode well for us."

Every word she wanted to say was locked in her throat.

Kyoya must have felt her shaking. His lips pressed against her shoulder, gentle, soothing. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I knew it would only scare you. I'm sure they'll figure something out."

Despite her panic, she was glad he did.

His hand was warm and soft as she linked their fingers together, desperate for anything that could tether her to reality.

"Sleep." Kyoya murmured, voice lilting like a lullaby.

She closed her eyes and drifted off to the familiar duet of their breathing.

A/N: So it's been a year. An entire year of me being a gremlin, doing my little gremlin tasks. But finally, I've re-organised and edited, and produced something that I think I'm quite happy with. Feel free to flick back through the chapters and see if you can spot any changes!

Hopefully I'll have the next chapters out soon and you won't have another year long wait from me, but hey, I'm a disaster.

Thank you for everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed, your continued support for this little fic never fails to make my day.