In the Ootori household, Friday evenings are reserved for pizza and bad movies. Every week without fail, Kyoya will return home from school, order an unhealthy amount of food, and flick through Netflix until he finds a film terrible enough to make his eyes bleed. His father will bowl through the door at some point in the hour, loaded with fizzy drinks and regret, and they will proceed through several hours of bad acting, obvious CGI, and gaping plot holes.
It's a break from the long hours and late nights that Yoshio spends at the hospital, a way to relax after a hard day. Oftentimes, he comes home stressed and exhausted and just wanting to sleep. On those bad days, Kyoya makes dinner, doing anything he can to relieve his father's burden.
Despite the painful and often thankless nature of his job, Kyoya knows his father loves being a doctor. It suits him, Kyoya thinks. Helping people. Saving their lives.
He's passionate, and caring, and although he loves his job, he always makes it clear that he loves his children just as much.
And while he doesn't get to spend as much time with his older children, those precious moments are always treasured. He loves to take Fuyumi shopping, or to tour coffee shops and family-owned restaurants on the haunt for a lovely meal. With a toddler in the house, his sister greatly appreciates any time she can have to herself.
Akito is accompanied to sports matches and concerts, and even though Yoshio doesn't always enjoy the music, he loves seeing his son having a good time. Yuuichi is kidnapped some days for a hike, or a breezy walk in the park. Other times he is spirited away on camping trips that almost always end up as a family affair, burning marshmallows over smokey fires and huddling together for warmth.
On this particular Friday, Kyoya comes home and his father is sitting on the stairs waiting for him.
The man isn't smiling, and he is gripping his thighs tightly.
A nervous habit.
Am I in trouble? It's Kyoya's first instinctive thought. A ridiculous one at that. He hasn't done anything nearly terrible enough to warrant a full-scale intervention lately. Or ever, for that matter.
Startled, Kyoya shuts the door a little louder than he intends. "Is everything okay?"
Yoshio sighs. Runs a hand over five o'clock shadow.
Kyoya has visions of blood and smoke, of lifeless eyes, and almost chokes on his next breath. "Dad?" He asks tightly, failing to keep the tremor from his voice. "What's wrong?" Is everyone okay? Kyoya wants to ask, but doesn't dare. The words get tangled up on his tongue and refuse to come out.
He's pretty sure he had a heart somewhere at one point in time, but now all that's left is a gaping hole in his chest, filled only by deep, sinking anxiety.
The kitchen clock ticks on.
Quietly deafeningly.
And then Yoshio drops the bomb.
The news isn't at all what Kyoya expects— with his grave demeanour and utmost seriousness, the boy is honestly expecting something terrible.
Instead, it's rather trivial.
His father is seeing someone.
Romantically.
If the twins were present, they would be standing behind the man and wiggling their eyebrows, and Kyoya would deck them.
"Oh." Kyoya manages, after a moment. And then he tries not to laugh. He's never seen his father so earnest before. He's genuinely concerned about how Kyoya will react, which is unnecessary, but also oddly sweet. "I already knew."
Yoshio's expression drops in tandem with his jaw. "You did?"
Now Kyoya really laughs. "You weren't exactly subtle about it."
And that's that, really.
Her name is Hanako, and they've been tentatively dating for just over four months, (which Kyoya had already surmised, really his father was not subtle in the slightest). Yuuichi, Akito and Fuyumi already know, (which explains her maddening superiority these past couple of weeks). And Yuuichi had actually met the lucky lady earlier that week, (which was actually entirely new information to him).
Gentle hands on his shoulders promise that Hanako would never replace his mother.
Kyoya is all smiles and encouragement, because he already knows that. His mother is barely a whisper of a memory to him, but he's been regaled in stories of the love they shared for as long as he can remember. There wouldn't be anyone who could hold even a flame against his mother, but that doesn't mean the boy is against his father finding someone else to share his life with.
He deserves to be happy, and he is. But if he could be happier with the addition of another, then who is Kyoya to stand in his way?
That evening they curl up on the couch with blankets and popcorn slathered with enough butter and salt to cause a heart attack.
Life is good, Kyoya decides.
And it is.
Kyoya is happy for his father, really.
He can't say he's used to the constant presence around the house, but he doesn't particularly mind it.
For the most part, Hanako is a little loud but kind, and she tends to overcompensate for her nervousness with curiosity. She makes bad jokes to fill the silence, and Kyoya can understand quite clearly what it is his father likes about her. Granted, she's a little awkward around him, but Kyoya's sure he's just as awkward in return. He thinks it kind of comes with the territory.
"Your dad's dating someone?" Tamaki exclaims, when Kyoya mentions it the next day.
The seven of them have claimed a table at a crowded fast food joint, crammed in the corner of the outside seating area. They're supposed to be watching a movie afterwards, but Kyoya isn't quite sure they'll make it, not with the way the twins have been eyeing up the arcade.
"Seriously?" Hikaru swipes a chicken nugget from Tamaki's box, cackling as Tamaki tries to smack him. At his side Kaoru sips his fizzy drink, unbothered. "What's she like?"
Kyoya shrugs. There isn't much to say. "She's alright, I guess."
"You guess?" Hikaru echoes, like Kyoya isn't being perfectly clear.
"If I'm being honest, I'm finding it a little weird. But maybe I'm too used to the idea of just having my father around. I don't know whether I want to share him with anyone else, if that makes sense."
Which is absolutely not what he intended to say, but the words are out there now and he can't take them back. It sounds so unreasonably selfish that Kyoya kind of just wants to curl up and die. He doubts he'll be allowed that simple luxury and is proven right mere seconds later, when Kaoru coughs.
It sounds suspiciously like daddy's boy, so Kyoya kicks him under the table. Like the asshole he is, Kaoru immediately tries to kick him back and hits Tamaki instead.
"Oops. Sorry," He says, not sounding sorry at all. "I was aiming for Kyoya-senpai."
Tamaki flips him off.
"Classy, senpai."
Kaoru's smug grin disappears when Tamaki's shoe connects with his shin.
For reasons solely down to comfort, Kyoya relocates his feet up onto his own chair. It's absolutely not so he's out of kicking range, and he's prepared to vehemently deny this if asked.
"Cut it out, you three."
Haruhi's voice is mild, but even then, Kaoru, Tamaki, and Kyoya all freeze where they sit.
As though the last thirty seconds or so hadn't occurred, Honey smiles cheerily and places his box of fries in the middle, where everyone can grab a handful. Kyoya thinks, or rather hopes, that maybe they've moved on to a new topic, one that he's less personally invested in. Honey kindly crushes that hope under his foot.
"It's okay, Kyo-chan. It's natural to feel that way."
Kyoya pulls a face.
He kind of regrets mentioning anything in the first place.
If he'd know in advance that he'd be receiving a whole damn therapy session, he would have just stayed quiet. Or, you know, not gone out at all. That seems much more preferable than whatever fresh hell this is.
"Change takes time to become accustomed to." Mori says wisely, patting Kyoya's shoulder in that reassuring way he always does and, as always, it makes him sound a thousand years older than he actually is. Kyoya considers whether Mori is actually some kind of forest spirit disguised as a fifteen-year-old, and decides that it isn't too unreasonable of an idea.
"Besides, it's not like it's a bad thing," Haruhi pipes up around her ice-cream.
Her doe eyes are soft, gentle, filled with understanding.
Kyoya's nearing fourteen and he still cannot handle being looked at like that. He wants to light himself on fire.
He's not sure how he'd achieve it, but the sentiment is there.
"I think I'd feel the same way, if my dad started dating again. It doesn't make you a bad person, or a bad son. Be patient and see how it goes, if you're still feeling uncomfortable then you should talk to your dad about it."
From a purely factual point of view, it's pretty solid advice. Unfortunately, Kyoya would never be bringing this matter up to his father, ever. He's fully resolved to repressing this memory for the rest of his life.
In the end, they do miss the movie.
It's entirely the twin's fault.
Hanako, Kyoya decides, is a decent enough partner. She settles into the Ootori household with barely a bump, seamlessly sliding her way into their routines in a way that Kyoya thinks would be disruptive, from anyone else.
His siblings like her, and his father clearly adores her, but despite his efforts to be welcoming, Kyoya can't quite feel anything towards her. And it's frustrating, because Hanako hasn't done anything wrong. She hasn't provoked him, belittled him, made him uneasy in any way that Kyoya wouldn't consider standard when breaking the ice with your father's new girlfriend. So he can't quite understand his own reluctance to accept her into his life. Part of him thinks he's being selfish, that maybe he isn't as willing to share his father as he first thought. The rest of him knows he's selfish, but maybe for entirely different reasons.
In the end, Kyoya knows what it is.
Hanako looks somewhat like his mother. If you squint your eyes and tilt your head just so.
He takes one look at her; shiny black hair, dark, expressive eyes, and sees a part of the life he's missed since he was seven years old. It's not the same, though, and Kyoya clings to fading memories; to waltzing love songs and placing his feet atop his mother's as they danced around the kitchen, laughter bright enough to warm him to the core.
She's not replacing his mother, Kyoya knows that. Objectively.
But deep down, he still resents her presence, her awkwardness, the way she's stumbling into territory she doesn't belong. Fuyumi, Akito, and Yuuichi are all adults, and in a sense are on equal ground with Hanako. But Kyoya is just over a month off his fourteenth birthday, and there is the unpleasant implication that she will take over some kind of parental role for him.
Kyoya doesn't want another mother.
His mother died, she died, and Kyoya isn't getting her back.
And he certainly doesn't want Hanako.
It feels harsh to think that way, to be so adverse to the idea when he so welcomes Anne-Sophie's presence in his life. But Kyoya grew up alongside Tamaki, and their mothers were best friends. What would feel overbearing or intrusive from anyone else is only natural with Anne-Sophie, and seeking out her attention and affection doesn't hold the same guilt to him that it otherwise would.
Kyoya doesn't hate Hanako.
He's indifferent, maybe, and a little wary. Reluctant, sure, but there's no hatred.
Really, he's just afraid of opening himself up, of getting used to another presence that could leave without warning.
Kyoya doesn't want Hanako, but he's not going to sabotage a perfectly sound relationship.
She joins them for dinner one night.
It's not too unusual, Hanako has been spending more and more time around the house lately, but on this occasion Kyoya knows that his father has poured his heart and soul and most of the day into making a veritable feast for the three of them. Kyoya thinks, absently, that it's rather endearing to see the stoic, usually unflappable man rushing around with the intent to make everything perfect.
And then he feels a wave of bitterness sweep over him.
Going to all this effort must mean that his father really does like her.
Kyoya resolves to make more of an effort to get over himself.
His father deserves to be happy, and Kyoya couldn't, wouldn't stand in the way of that.
For the most part, the two adults are rapt in conversation, and Kyoya is left to his own devices. He sets up his meal, scooping steaming rice into a small bowl, helping himself to the number of tasty dishes his father has prepared.
He's surprised when Hanako's voice cuts through his reverie, and while overtly kind, there is an edge to it that he can't place. "Is that all you're having?"
Kyoya glances down at his plate, somewhat confused. His portion doesn't seem any smaller than hers— in fact, it's more than he'd usually have.
She smiles, and there is a twist in the corners that Kyoya finds hard to ignore.
"You're a growing boy, Kyoya—" he can't stop himself from wincing at that. It's not a step he feels ready for, and the buzzing discomfort under his skin only intensifies. "Look at you, you're skin and bones. You should bulk up a bit more, put on some muscle— I'm sure the girls would love it." Hanako's merry laughter spins her words into a light-hearted joke, rather than a criticism. The socially acceptable thing to do is laugh alongside her, so Kyoya forces out a few awkward chuckles, bowing his head back over his plate as soon as he can.
He can't help but frown, though.
Putting on muscle just to impress some imaginary, vapid girls seems like the least important thing he could do with his time. He'd much rather spend it in the company of his friends. Besides, he doesn't think he's particularly skinny, not anymore so than Tamaki, or the twins.
Still, it would be rude to just ignore her. His father is happy, and it's obvious how much he wants Kyoya to like her, too.
So, smiling, he loads more food that he doesn't want onto his plate, and tries not to let it go to waste.
A/N: This is an abuse recovery fic and as such will be dealing with uncomfortable, potentially triggering themes. As a blanket warning, there will be descriptions of various forms of child abuse, including situations with non-graphic mentions of non con for a minor. Any additional warnings will be placed in the footnotes of the relating chapter.
