Chapter 17 of The Bird and the Worm: Possessive
Ootori wouldn't even look at me.
I sat in the backseat of his family's executive sedan with him; the middle seat between us was empty and felt like a giant chasm between us. His grey eyes shifted between the harsh glow of his phone's screen and the scenery passing by outside the tinted window.
I didn't know what to do with my hands. My fingers fidgeted with the material of my dress and my styled hair—or rather, the new wig— which Kaoru had sent me several video hair styling tutorials to watch in preparation for tonight. I had to practice the style I wanted to use tonight a few times, a type of elegant and loose hair knot.
Months ago (had it really been that long now?), I would've been euphoric if Ootori ignored my very existence and continued to live my life outside his sphere of influence and attention.
But now things are different.
I hated how things could change like that.
Was I that much of an eye-sore for him?
Other than uttering a sullen greeting when Tachibana had opened the door for me and ushered me into the car, Ootori remained silent. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking under his cold and calculated veneer. matched his tie to my dress again.
He'd troubled himself by matching his tie to my dress, both dark blue with gray undertones. An interesting choice if he was going to treat me this way.
I wondered why his silence bothered me so much. He wasn't usually a chatterbox to begin with, but I was surprised he didn't have any biting or scathing words to toss in my direction when I climbed into the , sensing the tension in the air through the dark partition that separated the driver from the passengers, played soothing jazz music over the car stereo system. I felt a surge of gratitude that he at least tried to alleviate the atmosphere so that I wouldn't have to sit with Ootori in long uncomfortable silence.
Finally, the limousine rolled to a smooth stop in front of the venue. The lively music that had been my company for the ride stopped in a sudden hiss of static as Tachibana killed the engine.
It was time—again—to pretend that I was part of the social elite.
I sat up straight and gathered the hem of my dress in my hand. I sucked in a deep breath. You can do this.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Ootori step out of the car after Tachibana opened the door for him.
I scooted myself over to the door as gracefully as I could manage while my body was trapped in the fabric prison.
Ootori offered me his hand, but his head was already swiveled to the side to watch the other guests that were arriving around us.
Gently, I placed my fingers over his open palm, barely using his hand for support, as I stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk, joining him. As soon as I stood up, he dropped his hand to his side.
And my stomach bottomed out with it.
He had released my hand as if I was repulsive.
Before I could stew longer over my dreary thoughts and why Ootori was being annoyingly prickly towards me this evening, my body sensed a light pressure against my back.
Ootori's hand hovered over the small of my back. I could sense it, almost feel the weight of it. It gave me a glimmer of hope that he wasn't going to be completely awful tonight.
"Remember," he whispered against my hair, tickling the tiny hairs that ran along the shell of my ear, "we're here to talk to the Adachis and find out what information we can."
"I know," I replied in a hushed voice as we strode over the vibrant red carpet in front of us and up to the large glass doors.
Beyond the doors, there were bright lights from hanging chandeliers, illuminating the reception area of a high-end hotel. At the far end of the room, people danced to the beat of the music and chatted by the large buffet tables lined with finger foods and drink fountains.
My eyes lingered on the appealing assortment of foods, and my mouth nearly watered.
Ootori sensed my temptation and sighed. "It's like all you think about is food."
"But it looks so good," I almost whined.
Another sigh. "You can acquaint yourself with the food table after we—"
"—After we gather some intel. I know the plan," I muttered, bitterly.
Ootori stalled by a table with a large crystalline drink fountain. "Speaking of which," he nudged my side, "looks like Adachi Kinako and her fiancé, Sato Ryota, are already here."
I followed his gaze, blinking dumbly as I stared into the crowd. "Who?"
He sighed for the third time. "Just follow my lead."
His hand still splayed over the middle of my back, he directed me over to an attractive pair chatting by a large potted indoor plant with large leafy leaves and decorated in twinkling lights.
"Kinako, Ryota," Ootori greeted, in a friendly tone that I felt he only reserved for people who weren't me, "it feels like it's been ages."
Ootori hadn't bothered to tell me he was already acquainted with them. Figures.
The young woman's attention focused on me. Her long black hair was twisted into a braid over her shoulder. Large brown eyes with long lashes and rose-petal pink cheeks and lips. Tall and composed like a ballerina. A classic beauty.
I almost withered under her pointed and appraising gaze.
"And who might this be?" she asked, curiosity etched into her pretty expression.
"Hanabusa Yuiko," I said cheerily before Ootori could introduce me. I wasn't going to let first impressions intimidate me.
"Hanabusa, Hanabusa," Kinako said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure I'm too familiar with the family name. What does your—"
"Oh, lighten up," Ryota chuckled, cutting her off, "we don't need to know who and what everyone here is. Interrogation makes a poor first impression."
Kinako folded her arms. "You're right, I suppose. Well, it's very nice to meet you, Yuiko. Kyoya didn't tell us he was going to bring a guest."
Kyoya opened his mouth to speak, but I quickly beat him to the punch, much to his chagrin.
"You three seem to know each other," I said, knowing full well that Kyoya was looking icily at me, "friends? Classmates?"
"Kyoya didn't tell you?" Ryota balked but there was good humor in the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. "Our parents are old, old friends. We haven't seen each other much lately, since we all go to different schools. But our families go way back." He clapped Ootori on the shoulder. "We've known Kyoya here since his potty training days."
I couldn't stop the snort that escaped my mouth. Ohh, this was juicy.
I covered my mouth with my hand as I laughed—because imagining Ootori in pull-ups was too good—but the side glare he shot me killed the offending laughter on my tongue.
I coughed into my hand and muttered a pathetic "sorry" to him.
Ryota and Kinako seemed unfazed by this.
Kinako quickly swept Kyoya up in conversation. From what I could gather, it had been a long time since they'd seen each other, and she was keenly interested in any changes with his family's company. We were supposed to be the ones delicately pumping them for information. Oh, how the tables turned.
But Ootori didn't seem to mind. He was all smiles and charm, cranked up to 11.
Ryota groaned dramatically and turned to me, one hand outstretched. "While they're talking about boring business, would you care to dance?"
He was handsome, for sure. Short brown hair, slicked back, and bright hazel eyes oozing with warmth. A complimentary set of dimples bracketed his earnest smile. He might've been an athlete of some kind too, with broad shoulders and calluses across the palm of his hand and fingertips.
My eyes flicked over towards Ootori, who seemed very preoccupied with Kinako, who was slowly crowding him. I knew the polite thing to do (or, rather, the Ootori-approved thing to do) would be to ask him for permission, but his hot-and-cold treatment bothered me tonight. Some breathing room away from the bespectacled demon king would be best.
So I accepted Ryota's offer, not seeing any harm in it. "Yes, please. Let's make our getaway while they're distracted," I joked.
A young man wearing a freshly ironed white collared shirt, black tie, and black vest appeared before Kyoya and Kinako. A circular tray covered in thin wine glasses balanced on one hand. "May I interest you in some drinks?"
Kyoya eyed the elegant glasses filled with pale beige liquid with a raised eyebrow.
Kinako blithely nudged him as she plucked up a glass. "Don't worry, it's just cider. Although if you do want champagne," she cupped a hand around her pink lips and lowered her voice, "you need only ask."
She gave the server a dazzling smile and a wink as she took a second glass by the stem and handed it to Kyoya.
Kyoya accepted as he watched her cheerfully take a tiny sip of cider as the server left and walked up to another pair of guests, offering them drinks. He wasn't interested in indulging the Adachi heir by ingesting fizzy liquid, but he played along by taking a modest sip from his glass.
They'd been superficially discussing business when Michi and Ryota disappeared from their sides.
His eyes searched for Michi in the dancing crowd of guests, knowing that she had strayed off with Ryota only moments ago. She and Ryota were hard to miss, neither of them seemed to have a good grasp of rhythm, and both of their faces were skewed in concentration until their eyes met and they burst out into a fit of giggles. He easily determined both were exaggerating their poor dancing skills to make one another laugh.
His fingers tightened around the stem of the glass. Something hot swelled inside his chest, rising like a flame. It irritated him to see her behaving in such a carefree way when they were there on an important mission.
Kinako studied Kyoya's expression with sly interest. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about Ryota."
Her voice brought him out of his dark thoughts. "Pardon?"
She stepped closer to him so that their elbows were touching and she was leaning into him. "Ryota likes to have his dalliances here and there, but you know we've been promised to one another since we were children, so I indulge him."
You mean to say that he knows his place, Kyoya thought but knew better than to say that out loud.
"However," Kinako went on as she swirled the cider in her glass with a circular flick of her wrist, "I'm interested in this Yuiko that you've brought with you. I don't think I've heard of her or her family before."
The way Kinako invaded his personal space by posting next to him with the side of her body flush against his frame bothered him. It was clear that Ryota wasn't the only one in their arrangement that enjoyed occasional flirtations. However, while Ryota came across as pure intentioned and earnest, he sensed something disquieting underneath Kinako's glossy and extroverted surface. After all, Kyoya considered himself to be an expert at masking his intentions, therefore he could quickly recognize when others were doing the same.
True, he'd known her since they were children, but their meetings had been few and far between. Mostly friendly play dates when they were younger or dinners with family. The occasional gala. He hadn't seen much of her since she started at Lobelia several years ago. A lot had changed.
"She's a classmate of mine at Ouran Academy, her father is—"
"—just a classmate then, hm?" Kinako hummed, interrupting. "I thought she'd be something, or someone more, if she's accompanying you."
"Someone more?" Kyoya repeated, glancing at her.
"Well," Kinako began, leaning against him much to his annoyance, "I always thought it was odd that your parents never arranged an opportunistic engagement for their youngest son." She dropped her voice so he could barely hear it over the music, "But to support your ambitions, you need a partner who brings more than just a pretty face to the table."
Her words were like needles incessantly pricking at old wounds. Venomous and sharp. He could see why Ryota wanted to find time away from her. He'd never thought of Kinako as shrewd, but maybe as she got older, her own goals expanded beyond what her family laid out for her. A dark similarity they seemed to share as their exchange continued.
Instead of acknowledging the sore topic Kinako brought up, Kyoya set his still-almost-full glass down on a table behind him.
"Excuse me, while this conversation has been lovely, I need to attend to my companion."
Disappointment flashed across her face, but she didn't falter. "Very well, I see Ryota's taken up far too much of her time for your liking."
Kyoya inclined his head in agreement and said nothing as he purposefully strode across the ballroom floor.
"Excuse me," a polite and all-too-familiar voice came from behind me, "do you mind if I cut in?"
Ryota and I stopped mid-step as the music continued to play a vibrant waltz. I whirled around to see Ootori standing behind me, smiling, and holding his hand out for me to take. I knew Ootori well enough at this point to know that this particular smile was forced and fake. Behind his pleasant façade, his request was a command.
The memory of him coldly escorting me out of the car earlier briefly replayed in my head. What was he playing at?
Ryota let me go, reluctantly (or maybe I was imagining that), perhaps sensing the thick undertones of tension boiling in the air between the three of us.
My hands floated back down to my sides. Ootori's lip twitched in disapproval.
Ryota bowed politely and appeared a bit flustered at the smooth interruption. "Sorry, Kyoya, it appears I borrowed your partner for a bit too long."
Ootori half-bowed in response as his right hand clasped around my left hand and he gently tugged me towards him. "It's quite alright."
The music changed gradually as Ootori led me away. Soft and romantic music flooded the room. After several steps, Ootori turned, his hand found my waist, and his fingers intertwined with mine. A terrifying realization sparked in my mind.
Ootori wants to dance with me.
After his treatment of me in the car, I hadn't anticipated this. We'd danced together before at a previous engagement several months ago, sure, but with all the tension between us lately, I half-expected him to want little to do with me tonight.
However, any shock by this revelation was quickly washed away when he spoke.
"You were smiling and laughing with him," he said plainly, words coated with annoyance, "…and it irritated me."
A dry lump blossomed in my throat and my eyes widened slightly. Did seeing me with someone else bother him? I became excruciatingly aware of how our fingers were laced together as my body followed his lead into the first step of the dance.
I swallowed and diverted my eyes, focusing them on the ornate garlands that lined that expansive ballroom.
"Did it bother you to see me having a good time?" I teased with a tiny smirk as I struggled to push down my nerves. Why was I so nervous?
Ootori took the lead by stepping forward, guiding me along with his hand that rested on my waist.
"Yes," he replied as he led me through a half-turn on the dance floor.
His sincere answer caught me off guard and the center of my chest fluttered. The swell of string music filled my ears as I stared at him in surprise, pupils dilated and brows raised.
Ootori tilted his head to the side and beamed at me antagonistically as if he could read my thoughts. "I didn't bring you here to enjoy yourself. We're here to find out information."
My soft expression turned into one of spiteful annoyance. Just when I was thinking he wasn't so bad, too.
His sharp voice sliced through my thoughts. "Why are you pouting?"
I avoided eye contact with him.
"No reason."
And then I pouted even more.
I felt his stare drill into me, trying to unearth whatever secret I was hiding. I could imagine the hard flat line of his lips, disapproving of my antics.
His grip on my hand tightened, but not painfully so. Warm and strong. His hand on my waist seemed to be caressing my side, holding onto me in a way that resembled less hostage and her captor and more two people genuinely dancing…
Partners. The word blared in my mind like an alarm bell.
And then our bodies were closer together. Much closer.
My nose skimmed the front of his tie. I could feel the heat of his breath tickle my forehead.
I forced myself to concentrate on keeping up with his steps and fluid movements. I never thought Ootori could be so graceful when it came to dancing. Memories of etiquette classes that covered which fork to eat a salad with and dancing lessons bubbled up to the surface in my mind. Memories that I thought I had long forgotten. Of course, Ootori being one of the scions of his family attended those classes as well. They were required for everyone at Ouran.
Finally, the slow song faded. The orchestra now played an exuberant carousel-style waltz, energetic and punchy. Not fit for intimate dancing. We pulled away from one another.
Again, I tried not to look at him. I could feel his eyes on me, inspecting me like an insect under a magnifying glass.
"I need to excuse myself for a minute," I lied, hastily, needing a minute or two to collect myself. "Go to the powder room, and, uh, powder."
From the corners of my eyes, I saw him nod and his expression was unreadable. Neutral. It pissed me off a little.
I walked away from him shaking, like a bottle of soda fizzing and about to burst if I didn't keep the cap sealed on tight.
Navigating my way through the constellation of dancing couples and guests, I found the restroom through the wide open door and to the left of the reception area. Shoving open the door, my red face greeted me in the mirror across the room.
I turned on a sink, wetting my hands under the water stream before pressing my fingers against the back of my neck. Anything to try and get the rosy red tinge to go away.
Was the flush on my face from embarrassment? The embarrassment that I thought Ootori might not be so awful? Or was it from rage? Rage that Ootori kept me close like a puppet on a string?
A familiar, sweet voice chimed in:
"Men can be infuriating, can't they?"
My head whipped to the side and I saw Kinako applying pink gloss to her lips. Had she been there this whole time?
I agreed, the color on my face slowly returning to normal. "Yeah, absolutely."
She smacked her lips and dabbed at the edges, ridding the excess gloss with a paper towel before tossing it in a bin.
"You look like you could use some fresh air." She slipped her arm through mine. "Care to join me outside? Cold air can do wonders for the nerves."
I paused, unsure, but I didn't want to act suspicious by turning down a gesture of goodwill. She seemed pleasant enough during our earlier exchange; scrupulous, but nice enough. Besides, Ryouta had been good company during our brief interaction, maybe Kinako would be as well. Or this could be a good opportunity for me to fish for something about the infamous Adachis.
I nodded and used my best put-together voice. "Sure, that sounds lovely."
A/N: Still chipping away at this…
This chapter was like, 90 percent done for over a year, sorry!
ALSO REMEMBER TO OPT-IN FOR EMAIL ALERTS IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHEN UPDATES ARE POSTED ON THIS SITE! As per a site update: "Email Alerts are now only active if Email Opt-in is enabled in account settings".
(And I recently reread Luckiest Loser (my most 'famous' work, I guess) and WOOF, that story was definitely a product of its time. But I keep thinking about writing a one-shot to wrap up a lot of the loose ends…)
Musical Inspiration— brutal by Olivia Rodrigo