Absence Makes the Heart Grows Fonder
-An Ouran High School Host Club Post-Ending Fanfiction-
A/N: Mostly fluff, with dry humor and some spice at the end. You have been warned.
Ootori Kyoya was accustomed to things going as he planned.
He rested his head on the dark leather backseat of his luxury car as it drove through metropolitan Tokyo busy streets.
It was Friday late afternoon and he just wrapped up his day as scheduled. Most part of the day, that was.
The type to anticipate any eventualities, the doctor and future leader of Oootori zaibatsu usually dealt with things with aplomb. One misstep in the schedule was nothing in the face of bigger fires of the corporation world or the life-or-death tension of intensive care unit. A single missed call ought not put him so out-of-sorts.
He glanced at his phone. Still nothing.
Suppressing the urge to sigh, he sat back, watching the city view sped by. He mentally went through the next things in his agenda. Go home, swing by the gym, take a quick shower, eat dinner, review some documents in his home office, go to bed. A little early tonight to make up starting his day at an ungodly hour this morning.
He resisted scowling at his phone. He hated feeling out-of-sorts.
He supposed he could blame waking up so early for some of the resentment. He was never a morning person. While didn't quite like it he dutifully set up alarms and woke up anyway, waiting for a long-distance call from Paris seven hours behind. From one Houshakuji Renge. Except that it didn't come.
She always was the one to reach out, therein lies the rub.
In the past month or so there were almost regular cadence of calls and messages. Regular calls, obviously time difference mixed with tight professional schedule didn't allow much room to navigate. Irregular messages, both in content and frequency. Chirpy, with occasional sprinkle of emoji or random pictures.
He sardonically thought if anyone told his younger self that he was getting a reprieve from the whirlwind of one highly spirited Houshakuji Renge, he would inwardly heave a breath of relief. Then again if one told his eighteen years old high school self that in ten years he would end up married to said lady, he would have scoffed in disbelief. Oh how a person could change.
Noticing the car turned towards the lobby of his luxury apartment building, he gathered his coat and briefcase and donned his usual imperturbable mien. Stepping out of the car, he nodded to the uniformed attendants and briskly walked through the glass doors. Going through next item in his agenda, he mentally added a note to prepare a long lecture. Two and a half day before picking her in the airport on Monday, he thought, eyes gleamed darkly behind his glasses. Plenty of time. Renge was in for it when she returned.
Houshakuji Renge awoke with a start.
Bleary eyed, the first thing that she saw was the red exit sign inside the lowly lit cabin. She blinked slowly to get her bearing.
The cabin was quiet, save for the low hum of the jet and steady breathing of her secretary asleep not too far behind. She reached for her phone to check the time. A little less than three hours before landing. Sitting straighter, she arranged the blanket around her hip and pulled out the water bottle tucked on the side. Sipping some water to quench her dry throat, her thoughts flew further to the East and a smile tugged on her lips.
For the umpteenth time she wondered how Kyoya would react to her returning early.
But she wanted to go back. No, she needed to go back.
As a busy power couple they were no strangers of being away for business trips. More for Kyoya at first, then she after her executive-in-training for Houshakuji enterprise earnestly started. It was quite unusual for it to be such a prolonged trip though. The top brass might be planning to announce the formal succession soon, or so some people predicted. Solidifying her mark in the enterprise's main headquarter seemed to be a step in the right direction. As the sole daughter of a prominent family she was always expected to take over someday – or marry someone who would. She might always be more the creative type but blessed with a good head for business she didn't see a reason to squander what her beloved otou-sama had built. She was her daddy's daughter after all.
Kyoya, always ten steps ahead, didn't seem to mind. They were engaged before the succession matters were decided from either sides so for a period of time she wondered if he was marrying her for the Houshakuji leadership position. Being the third son, no one foresaw he would be the one succeeding the powerful Ootori Yoshio. But of course Kyoya liked proving everyone wrong. Just like how she liked proving herself to be more than a flighty daughter or a trophy wife.
Still a full month in Paris was far too long. Which was quite funny since (a) Paris was one of the most beautiful cities in the world and (b) she was born in and raised a Parisian. When she first moved to Japan 'homesick' was her missing Paris. It amused her that now it was the opposite.
Smiling to herself, she figured it has to do with a certain someone. Despite of (or maybe in spite of) the calls and messages she missed him acutely.
When a few appointments in her calendar shifted less than a week ago, there were two options. One was to stick to her original schedule and fill in the newly opened slots with appointments that didn't make the original cut. The other was radically upending her schedule and returning early. She didn't think twice before choosing the latter, much to the cry of her poor secretary. Her otou-sama was also lamenting her skipping their tradition of having one last tea together.
Both men ended up caving in. She drove with her trademark zealousness and managed to cinch a flight not a day early but two. Potentially running several people haggard in the process, including herself, but did it nonetheless.
Pushing her seat back and slowly lying down, she fought back a giggle. It was fun staying awake to fantasize Kyoya's reaction, but she figured catching precious minutes to rest more was wiser. Being totally dead on her feet would ruin the surprise.
She closed her eyes and felt herself drifting back to sleep quicker than expected. The convenience of flying private she thought, allowing one to rest much better. Especially on a long distance flight. She wondered how people could ever fly commercial. The one time they did in school was not even that long but supremely less comfortable...
Back from gym and freshly showered, Kyoya felt more like himself.
Moving his body kept necessary thoughts away. And ticking things off the list generally helped lifting up his mood.
Dinner consisted of simply heating up the one-person meal the housekeeper left in the fridge. He paused briefly, debating between moving to the living room or eating in the kitchen. The penthouse had an open layout and no formal dining room, so when eating in Renge and him either chose one spot or the other.
Deciding on the kitchen, he settled himself on a stool at the end of the long marble counter top. He ate quietly, eyes scanning news and emails on his phone.
Finished with his meal, he stepped down and slid the stool back in place. Carrying a plate on one hand and a glass on the other he went to deposit them in the dishwasher. Sticking to his plan to turn in early, he opted out of coffee and made his way to his home office with a tall glass of water instead.
He started reviewing the medical charts of the patients he was consulted on. Although cutting back his clinical medicine practice, Kyoya had gained some renown as a doctor in his own right. The consultation work was a nice way to keep his expertise, skills, and connections alive. If he were being honest he quite enjoyed the work on the side of business meetings and successor training. Writing down notes, observations, further things to diagnose and a few recommendations, he filed things up and got everything ready to be sent to the hospital.
Next up he pulled the contract drafts, revisions, and new business proposals presented earlier this week. He skimmed two documents before finding himself losing focus. He frowned and wiped his glasses on a clean cloth, and set his eyes back on the monitor. Not making satisfying progress, he pushed the monitor off the center of the desk and pulled the paper contracts instead. He figured physical form would be easier to read.
Not much luck either.
It was not the lack of sleep per se, his mind was just running to different directions. He glanced at the vintage analog clock on the corner on his office. Only eleven past nine. Around two in the afternoon in France. He wondered if he should call.
He checked the last message from her. It was from the day before, around the same time. A picture of latte art with double hearts, with a vague message of 'something to tide us over'. She often sent pictures of random things during the day so it was not overly uncommon. Neither were the hearts or the sappy message. He figured she bought a cup of coffee before heading back to work and snapped the picture on the way.
What was not common was the lack of contact in the last twenty four hours. Besides the regular twice-weekly calls she averaged sending him two to three messages per day. Granted on atypically busy days there were occasions it dwindled to one. No day went by with neither a message nor a call. Until now.
He was admittedly upset she missed their usual call today. Being stood up was not exactly pleasant. Then again it was late evening over there. The past week seemed to be particularly tiring for her, it wouldn't be too far-fetched if she overslept. He could play the understanding spouse, couldn't he?
Or he could play the more caring spouse, an inner voice which annoyingly sounded like Tamaki berated. Renge was always the one to call first. Why couldn't he actively call her for once?
He pulled her contact up and paused before dialing. While he was mulling things over it was already almost two thirty in the afternoon over there. She would be at work. He hated getting interrupted while working himself, would he carelessly do the same to her?
Putting both elbows on the polished mahogany desk he let out a breath. He knew he was overthinking it. How do other people do this?
Recollecting himself, he settled on a quick text and pressed the send button. There, he thought, a message wouldn't be such a big deal.
Still the same inner voice nagging him that that was hardly enough. He squarely stomped it down. That was a start.
Standing up from his chair, he concluded he wouldn't get anywhere with the rest of the documents tonight. Swiftly tidying up he thought of watching news or checking overseas stock markets, but discarding the thought just as quickly.
Might as well turning in early tonight.
Okay she clearly didn't think this through, Renge admitted.
It was almost eleven in the evening Tokyo time. Quite a late hour for regular homecoming but not the craziest either. Kyoya did the weirdest hours after all when he was actively working in the hospital.
After dropping her exhausted secretary off and waving both her chauffeur and the apartment lobby attendant away, she figured she could handle the elevator and hallways on her own.
All the better for her little surprise.
Which she ought be able to pull off, if not for her valises and shopping bags.
The bellman cart glided well enough for her to manoeuvre up to the penthouse door. But there was no way she could slip in unnoticed with such luggage.
She pondered on calling on the lobby to keep the cart and her luggage. She could send the housekeeper to retrieve them on Monday.
Or she could just press in. It was still a surprise after all. A significantly less romantic one than what she originally had in mind, but it was not that she had the exact picture all figured out anyhow.
Holding herself tall, she took a breath and swiped her key card. Opening the door slightly, she prepared a sunny smile.
Only to be greeted by silence.
Ooo-kay she thought. From the quiet surrounding and overall dim lighting either Kyoya turned in early or pulled late hour in the office. Knowing his workaholic tendencies Renge leaned towards the latter... before spotting his leather shoes in the genkan. 'Kyoya is home!' A bubble of joy unwittingly burst through. Followed by realization that he was likely already asleep. Waking Kyoya up was not an endeavour anyone would take voluntarily. Which means the surprise would have to wait until tomorrow morning.
Oh well, c'est la vie.
Turning her mind back to the luggage, she critically weighed if she could move them into the penthouse on her own. Quietly enough not to wake up her dearest husband. That was the line between this being a pleasant surprise (a good morning kiss and breakfast in bed). Or a disaster in the making (the ones closest to him could attest Kyoya never took kindly to being woken up mid-sleep).
Narrowing her hazel eyes, she thought multiple trips. Three, four perhaps? Nodding satisfactorily, she got about moving.
Kyoya couldn't sleep.
He did a ten-hours workday, followed by workout, and an extra one hour of work-from-home. He steadfastly abstained from caffeine in the last few hours and did not drink a night cap. By all accounts he should be falling asleep in seconds. He knew why it was not the case.
Stubbornly lying on the bed, he kept his eyes closed. Consciously loosening his muscles. Breathe in, breathe out.
Seconds ticked into minutes, minutes stretched into what felt like hours.
It was too quiet. The bedroom was too quiet. The bloody house was too quiet. He noticed how the penthouse, which was much smaller than the Ootori manor, felt too big for one person. Too empty, too cold. The thought came unbidden a few times during the month she was away, usually in passing. He was not the type who spent too much time lounging about at home anyway. He kept himself busy, his work and grand plans kept him busy. The housekeepers took turns to keep the apartment tidy, and tucked all traces of her away.
He should have called. Or left a voice message. Or send something other than a short text. A picture, perhaps.
He was overthinking again. Tomorrow morning he would find a reply in his phone like usual. And she would be back on Monday.
Schooling his brain to order, he settled more comfortably into the pillows. Breathe in, breathe out.
An unknown length of time passed. Kyoya groaned, this was not working.
He reached for his phone. Ten past ten. It had not even been an hour.
He fell back into the bed and contemplated his options. Let's assume work let off around five. Tokyo being seven hours ahead, it meant around midnight. Around two more hours to go. He could try to sleep a bit before calling her. Maybe the nature white noise Hani-senpai and Mori-senpai liked would help. Or the meditation exercise Fuyumi-neesan said was getting popular.
If nothing else he could get someone in the hospital prescribed him light sleeping pills. It might be handy to have some around. Renge would yell at him though...
Some rustling sounds and he stayed unmoving, still trying to fall asleep. A short beep caught his ears. More rustling. It was not very loud and a bit distant, he thought. Neighbours? A car outside?
There it was again. Another beep, followed by some rustling.
Kyoya lifted his arm off his eyes. The sound was not that distant actually. His other hand groped for his glasses.
Getting out of bed, he stood and listened more closely. No more beeping sound, just occasional rustling. He opened the bedroom door slowly, it was still dim outside. There were noticeable shadows on the entryway, low in front of the genkan. He thought he heard light footsteps.
He opened the door wider and was about to step out, then his heart stopped. A familiar figure stepped into view and bent down to retrieve the things on the floor. Even in low lighting there was no mistaking the tawny brown hair.
Renge stepped as quietly as possible on to the genkan and ensured the door was securely closed.
She crouched to retrieve the last few items remaining – last-minute duty free shopping bags – intent to carry it to the living room.
The shopping bags made more rustling sounds than she would have liked, but overall she managed to keep reasonably quiet.
She had stopped a couple times to glance at the bedroom door but to her relief, nada.
One last round and she was home free! Or not, she thought. It might be too risky to sneak into the bedroom to change. She was making her way to the living room and seriously considering sleeping on the sofa, when a pair of strong arms captured her from behind, shopping bags and all.
She was too breathless to shriek. Either that or she was still stuck in the keep-the-deathly-quiet-in-the-demon-king-lair mode. Which might be a silver lining, the ones closest to her could attest Renge's top volume was seriously opera level. Good thing that they live in the top penthouse with fairly nice soundproofing and bulletproof glass windows.
"Wh-," she managed, her pulse jumping, "What are-?"
Her assailant didn't let go. It took her brief seconds to recognize the owner of the arms, and the sturdy body behind her back. It took her longer to get her pulse back to a normal level.
That Kyoya, if she had a cardiac arrest he would have to revive her.
Barefoot, Kyoya followed the silhouette to the living room. Before he himself knew what he was doing his feet stepped at her pace and he reached out his arms to her. Taking her by the shoulders, he pulled her backwards towards him, her back against his chest.
He was surprised to feel her solid weight. It felt real.
Kyouya wrapped his arms around her body, one around her waist, the other over her shoulder, pulling her close. And kept her there.
They must have stood like that for a few minutes before she called his name, "Kyoya."
He struggled for something to say, "You didn't call this morning."
"I know," Renge replied, in a tone laced with humor and a hint of apology. A beat passed and she, felt compelled to elaborate, added, "The plane was about to take off."
Unnecessary explanation, he thought. Now that it was in hindsight, the pieces clicked into the picture. He deducted as much.
She let most of the bags she was holding to drop to the floor.
He still didn't let go.
"Kyoya," she called again, cool hand patting his arm around her waist, "One minute."
He reluctantly loosened up his embrace.
She lightly stepped around the scattered bags and headed further into the living room. She lowered the one bag she kept in her hands onto the coffee table, cheerily explaining that it contained a wine bottle, and as such couldn't be handled carelessly.
He stayed rooted on the spot, eyes silently followed her move. Shedding her trench coat off and depositing it on the sofa in one flourish movement, she made her way back to him. It took less than a minute for her to step back into his embrace and circle her arms around his neck. Must be the ballet classes she said she took as a girl.
She hummed, "Much better for my welcome home greeting."
He was inclined to agree, but decided against voicing it out loud. He pulled her closer, she relaxed against him. Hips touching, her hands on his back and shoulder, her nose nuzzled the base of his neck. She felt slightly cool to the touch. It had started getting chilly outside.
"You should have told me you are back early", he returned.
He felt her shaking her head, a giggle floated up to his ear. "Where's the fun in that?"
Leaning away, he was about to lift an eyebrow and throw a smart comeback. Renge rose on her toes and pulled him down for a kiss. Argument cut short, he obliged.
Since being with Renge, unquestionably the more openly affectionate one – different culture and all, he learned there were a wide range of kisses.
Still smiling when their lips met, her kiss started as one of her "I am absolutely ecstatic and I hope you feel it too". Shifting to a lighter hello-how-do-you-do kiss she typically initiated in the rare case one of them was home early. Before slowly deepening into a really-really-miss-you variety. He wasn't quite sure the longing he read was hers or his, but wasn't going to think about it.
He focused on her presence, the feel of her in his arms, her breath, the taste of her lips, her warmth.
By the time the kiss ended she was no longer cool to the touch.
To say Renge was beyond happy was an understatement.
Her inner otaku was squealing bouts of "moe". If she was sitting she would be flailing about, legs slamming the floor, fists hitting anything she could reach. That would amuse Kyoya, though in close proximity he might not appreciate getting hit.
The sheer shock of suddenly hugged from behind aside, for a split second she thought she had awoken the demon king. Mission failure! Abort! Abort!
But no, it was the regular Kyoya. He was not sleeping then.
She looked up to him, taking account.
He was already in his sleepwear, pajama pants in dark blue with a matching short sleeves top in smooth silk. Dark hair mussed, completely barefoot. He was in a rare unkempt state, it occurred to Renge that she was more used to him in clean line suits and perfectly styled designer clothes.
Lingering on the open v of the pajama top, she noticed the top button was not fastened. How could he make disheveled so attractive?
He caught her eyes and she realized she was staring.
He looked her up and down rather quickly, observant eyes noting things.
She offered a wide smile. Travel-worn, she hoped she looked half as fine.
A pair of sparkling hazel eyes looked up to him. Slightly red rimmed from long flight.
The lighting was a little low for him to make out all details but she was in her 'comfy' travel attire. A pair of beige pants that flared in a dress-like shape, light turtleneck top so pale yellow it was almost white. Tawny blonde hair loose around her shoulder, shorter now compared to years ago in high school. No jewellery or accessories, which was unusual, save for the wedding ring on her left hand. Stockinged feet, likely opting out of wearing slippers in her attempt to make less noise.
She looked the same as one month ago. Still beautiful with gleaming amber eyes and delicate features, fine bones, flawless skin. Lost a little weight perhaps? Hard to tell from one hug. The earlier one was her in a coat and shopping bags about.
Underneath the visibly bubbly halo she looked a bit tired.
"Would you like some food?" he prompted, "Or a bath?"
Renge burst out laughing. "Or me?" she added in reflex.
The humor was completely lost on Kyoya. She waved her hands dismissively, launching into explanation that apparently the three questions were often asked by new bride in commoners household when welcoming her husband from work. In manga and anime, at least. He unwittingly played the wife role then. So many years after the host club graduation, he ironically thought he had outgrown the Okaa-san honorary title. It faded away rather swiftly, unlike his other equally dubious Shadow King epithet. Maybe not altogether gone.
They turned on the lights brighter.
Unpacking a few things from her valise, she answered his earlier questions. She had eaten on the plane but a few bites wouldn't hurt. And yes she would like a bath, the customary line of complaint about how her hair felt gross after an entire day of travel weaving in her chatter. True to form, a barrage of questions flew forth subsequently. She asked him if he was going to bed early, felt bad she ended up disturbing his rest, if he had eaten, excitedly brought up the bottle of wine from earlier which she just knew he would like and oh-how-nice-it-would-be to try it together, how his day went, if he had plans tomorrow.
He knew better than to interrupt, managing short answers in between her mix of questions, statements, side comments, and requests for an opinion. Yes he was planning to turn in early, no he was not yet asleep, yes he already ate but open to try the wine out. His day was fine, he was not going to elaborate how he agonized over her missed call. No he was keeping the weekend fairly open, omitting his original plan to take half day off on Monday to fetch her from the airport. Not that he could get too many words in. When she was like this the punctuation marks all blended together. He was always amazed at her lungs' capacity and speed-talking talent.
She maintained a sunny smile throughout, chattering while unpacking. Standing up, she nodded with an exclamation, "Great!". Then breezily walked past him to their bedroom, presumably to get a change of clothes.
His eyes followed her retreating figure, then scanned the living room where her things were strewn about.
Heading to the bathroom to turn on the jacuzzi, he shook his head and smiled to himself.
It finally felt like home.
Renge dried her hair and stepped out of the washroom, making her way to the kitchen.
Kyoya stood on the marble counter, moving food to plates. He acknowledged her with his eyes, she perched on one of the stools.
He opened a cabinet and pulled out two glasses of wine, then bustled about to get the bottle opener in another drawer. Watching him, she noted he was now wearing slippers, hair put back in place, and ruefully found the buttons on his pajama top all fastened.
Ever observant, he knew she was watching him and gave her bathrobe a look, raising his eyebrows. She met his eyes straight, nonchalantly fingering the robe edges, a playfully sultry look in place. It was more a comfortable wear than exactly sexy, the fuzzy bathrobe was markedly baggy.
It was Kyoya's actually. A private joke. He accusing her stealing his robe despite having her own, she arguing back that it was just the perfect size for comfy wear. She wound up winning the argument, the housekeepers now no longer bothered to prepare hers. Kyoya not being one to lounge about in robes in the first place, let her have his. He was more the quick-shower-and-get-dressed type. While men like her otou-sama might be more attached to theirs.
Finished with the prep, he moved a plate of club sandwiches and a small bowl of soup in front of her, followed by a glass of water.
Eyes drawn to the empty wineglasses she thought, no wine?
Reading her he pointed to the wine fridge. "Eat first," he said, "Let the wine chills."
Another glass of water on his hand, he moved to sit next to her. Renge nibbled on her sandwich, asking a question, "Did you make it?"
To which he answered by turning one of the unopened box to the side. It has the stamp of restaurant and bar downstairs in the same building.
They both knew Renge was the better cook out of the two of them. Fruits of finishing school and bridal training, supposedly. French food was her best repertoire, for obvious reasons. She was barely passable in Japanese cooking. Other types of cuisine, let's not even go there. Making sandwiches seemed easy enough but Kyoya hardly touched kitchen knives. She was always curious how it would turn out if he did cook. From what she heard about his competency with scalpel, she bet he would be equally proficient. As with most everything else, really.
He didn't stop just turning the box, he opened it and let her look inside. It was a piece of dessert. The restaurant's food was nothing to write home about but it was the closest, considering it was almost midnight. Perhaps cutting it close to the last call for order. Or past it already, though she didn't doubt Kyoya would have ways to get the food by any means. The confection section though, was decadent. And he remembered she enjoyed the particular dessert.
Letting out a delighted sound, she grinned. Then set about to eat her meal.
She glanced sideways, noticing there was no plate in front of Kyoya. He was not a proponent of midnight snacking, healthy living and all. She was rather amazed he bought her dessert. An indulgence, supposedly. Or a consideration that her stomach still operated on Paris timezone.
She dragged her sandwich plate to the middle between them, giving him a look. Then went back to eat her soup. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him raising an eyebrow at her, thinking. He took a piece and chewed, either deciding he could use a bite or lining his stomach for the alcohol.
She smiled.
Meal and dessert done, he watched Renge pouring themselves some wine, venturing bits of information on the year, the region, and how it was supposed to taste. The Houshakujis had multiple enterprises, he wouldn't be surprised if it was one of their labels.
She rose with her wineglass, likely heading to the living room. Kyoya rose with her, telling her to go on ahead, he would be right there after tidying up. Hands reaching out to the wine bottle, he quickly added he would put it back to the cooler.
Renge blinked at him. He said, "One glass only."
She pouted, preparing to argue. He stayed firm, "Tomorrow."
A couple beats and she shrugged, "Okay."
Asking if he needed help and getting a shake of his head, she sauntered out of the kitchen – no less happy.
Making a beeline to the living room, Renge noticed the lighting had changed again. No longer full on, but not as dim as before.
Entering the room, she noticed her luggage had been lined up neatly on one side. No clutter on the carpet. Her coat no longer draped on the sofa.
Yet another surprise. She thought she didn't spend that much time in the bathroom. Kyoya had been busy.
She sat on the sofa and enjoyed her wine. It was a good one, she should thank otou-sama for the recommendation. Likely a touch too sweet for Kyoya, she wondered what he would say.
She looked around, the apartment was virtually unchanged. Tidier, it felt, her absence translated to less mess and Kyoya's obsessive streak of perfectionism reigning unchecked.
She wandered to the baby grand piano on the side of the other window. The curtains were drawn, obviously, it was late. Running her hands on the fall board, she found she rather missed playing.
Her daddy's place in Paris had a grand piano. But she wound up too busy with work to even touch it.
Slipping to the bench, she thought. Just a bit.
In the kitchen, Kyoya heard notes of piano floating in. Never a quiet moment with her.
Done throwing out the trash and putting the dishes to the dishwasher, he was washing his hands on the sink.
He congratulated himself on getting the piano tuned on time. She didn't play that often anymore, but he guessed correctly that she would want to upon her return.
Stepping into the living room with wine on hand, he remained on the doorway. Silently listening.
She finished the piece and noticed his figure standing by. She threw a rather embarrassed smile. Was she fussing about her attire? Bare feet on the pedals, fuzzy bathrobe contrasting with the black piano, she was quite a sight. Was she making mistakes? Kyoya was not big on music, he wouldn't know.
He saw her about to get up and gestured for her to stay. Walking closer, he asked about the piece and said he would like to hear more. Looking down, he sent her an uncharacteristically soft smile. Yes he was not big on music. He never understood how others studied, worked, or exercised with background music. He thrived better in tranquility. But he truly liked listening to her play.
She nodded, smiling in return. "Any requests?"
He shook his head, "The maestro's choice."
She pondered for a bit before starting another piece. He listened intently, registering the tune he had heard several times before. She glanced up and mouthed, "Nocturne Opus 9 No. 1".
"Aa," he quietly acknowledged, "Chopin."
She smiled and nodded, then concentrated back on playing.
He stood by, sipping his wine, watching her slender fingers darted across the ivory keys. Keeping his eyes on her, he maintained the line of sight while retreating to the sofa. Polishing his wine off, he closed his eyes. She played the piece differently than how others did. It sounded like a soft lullaby to his ears, like soft tears.
Renge delivered the last notes of the piece and lifted her gaze up to her sole audience. Kyoya, previously settled on the center of the sofa, stood up and rewarded her with an applause. She stood, said her thanks, feeling somewhat ticklish.
She considered sitting down to play another piece, decided not to. With him there, the sofa looked infinitely more inviting. She closed the fall board and made her way back to the sofa, picking up her wineglass.
Finally settled down next to him, shoulders touching.
Not one to stay quiet for too long, she initiated conversation. Kyoya responded, at length, she still dominating the chat but no longer on her rapid fire mode.
They talked about everything and nothing.
Her playing skill was rusty. The piano felt freshly tuned.
Sharing thoughts on the wine taste.
Her overall trip, his news on what happened in Japan. Of friends and family. Noel, the cat.
A banter on how she should have told him she was returning early. He strategically wheedling her into promising on next time. She laughingly and stubbornly saying no.
He would bribe the secretary, he said, getting her plan leaked. She would pay him more, she deflected, god knew the poor man deserves it anyway.
He would bribe her long-time maid Aya, then. Nice try, she said, but Aya's loyalty was to her ojou-sama. He pretended to think, then wondered out loud on what-if. He could have surprised her by flying to Paris instead, a romantic weekend for two. Wouldn't Aya know it would make her equally, if not more, elated? Her faithful maid always prioritized her lady's happiness after all.
She squealed, her eyes widening. "You wouldn't!"
He cued a perfect smile on his lips: a soft smirk with matching dark and mysterious eyes to go with it. As if saying 'try me'.
Not knowing if he was serious or joking, conflicting emotions flashed in her face. Huffing, she turned away from him, breaking contact.
He took hold of her hand in his, pulling her back to place. His tone changed to consoling, "You know me."
No longer resisting, she leaned her head on his shoulder. Resuming her pout, she replied. "With you, one never knows."
She felt a rumble of laugh from his chest. Her heart tripped in her own chest. She loved the stoic Kyoya, but she loved his laughing, happy self more. Even at her own expense. There was no winning it, was there? It was simply unfair.
She fell silent on his side. Long enough for him to prompt, "Renge?"
She made the slightest movements instead of answering, leaning more into him, interlocking their fingers. He responded in kind.
A breath passed, then two.
Then came a quiet, "I missed you."
He had heard that, time and again in the past four weeks. Through a call or a message. In two languages. In varying tones, usually with superlatives.
Not this plainly, with absolute honesty. Not in person.
His chest clenched. An identical ache to the one driving his bouts of irritable mood, inability to concentrate, and random nights of insomnia reappeared, excruciatingly more noticeable.
His hand on her tightened, he waited until she lifted her head to look at him.
Looking into her eyes, instead of his customary 'I know' or 'X more days to go' or a consoling eyes and a nod, he lent voice to the truth. "I missed you too."
A sharp intake of her breath, emotions flashed in her eyes. He never quite mastered expressing himself eloquently, openly. It was not his nature. Who was surprising who now?
Leaning in, he captured her lips, trying to convey what he felt through the kiss.
Breaking apart, he gently pried the wineglass from her other hand. Putting it on the side table, along with his glasses.
Re-positioned himself, he gazed deep into her hazel eyes. "There's my look," she muttered softly under her breath.
The kiss that followed smouldered into a decidedly untame variety. He tasted traces of the sweet wine in her mouth, wanting more. She was enveloped in Kyoya, his arms, his scent, her back against the sofa.
Her robe went askew. Hands tracing exposed skin, he renewed the map of her in his head. She made appealingly luscious noises he couldn't get enough of, he felt intoxicated. It had been far too long.
He trailed kisses to the edge of her jaw, to her neck, going down lower. Her hair tickling his nose, he breathed in her scent. Feeling her pulse quicken, her gasping for air, skin feverish.
Her fingers in his hair tightened, "Kyoya."
Reining him in? Encouraging him? He made his way back up, nuzzling her ear, tracing her earlobe with his lips. Grazing it with his teeth, he felt her body immediately responded. He paused, whispering into her ear, "Yes?"
She shivered, breathing hard. He was about to resume when she managed to call out, "Kyoya."
He lifted up reluctantly. He touched his forehead against hers, taking her in. Color high on her cheeks, lips damp and slightly parted, the gold in her eyes glittered enchantingly.
"Not here," he watched those lips move.
Unable to resist, he dove in for a searing, open-mouthed kiss. Sensing she still wanted to say something, he pulled back the barest distance, noses still touching.
"Take me to bed," her sweet lips brushing his.
He didn't have to be told twice. Lifting her up in his arms, her legs on his waist, he strode to their bedroom. Discarding the robe off, he carefully lowered her onto bed, pinning her down. Her arms rose to welcome him. He liked the feeling of her fingers on his shoulders, the back of his head, in his hair.
"We can stop if you are too tired," he said, voice husky.
Shaking her head, she replied, "A little."
"I'll let you sleep. After," the corner of his mouth lifted, "You said you don't have anything scheduled until Monday."
Her eyes widen, trying to read him. He plastered the same dark smirk on his face.
Watching her expression settling into resignation, he chuckled, giving her a long kiss. Smoothing her hair he said, "It is physically impossible, you know."
She responded with the same answer, "With you, one never knows."
-FIN-