2. The Shadow King's Runny Nose!

(A/N) Ahhh I'm finally back! It only took me two months (; - ;). Also, just a reminder, there's no COVID-19. This was 2006. I was writing this chapter and kept setting off alarm bells in my own head…

Tamaki didn't think he would ever quite know his favorite thing about sleeping over at Kyoya's, especially on a school night, but waking up like this was definitely high on the list.

Despite the lack of sunshine and bird song, both gone away with the rapid onset of winter, there was still something wonderful about opening his eyes next to Kyoya in the still tranquility of the early morning, the only noise to be life's soundtrack existing as his friend's quiet breaths.

Kyoya had his face buried in a pillow, as usual. He generally ended up as a human-blanket burrito in some pose or other by the end of the night, now with Tamaki included in the swaddling. (Tamaki had convinced Kyoya to let him stay over almost every night since the party - it was practically domestic bliss!) Kyoya's hair was a rat's nest and his lips were parted ever so slightly ajar. Tamaki leaned in happily.

"Kyoya," he muttered into his friend's ear, giving his shoulders a light shake. Kyoya groaned in response, and pulled the pillow entirely over his head as a shield. Tamaki couldn't help but snicker.

Heaven almighty, he was so blessed.

Gently, firmly prying the pillow away and tossing it out of Kyoya's reach, he tried again. "Kyooyaa," he coaxed, "it's time to wake up, mon ami."

After thirty seconds more of incoherent protesting, Kyoya lifted his head to give Tamaki the most monstrous glare that he could muster. Tamaki couldn't help but notice that his eyelids drooped as he did so. Tamaki couldn't believe his mother-loving luck. He got to have this experience - his best friend was this angel.

Also Jesus Christ and Mary mother of God, looks could surely kill if that boy was pissed enough.

"Eheh, come on, don't be like that…"

Kyoya's head dropped unceremoniously back to the mattress. In the few seconds it took for Tamaki to recollect himself, Kyoya was already most of the way asleep again.

"Kyoyaa," he tried again, gathering the boy up in his arms and tugging him onto his lap.

"What the hell are you doing," grumbled Kyoya into his chest. Tamaki laughed.

"It's time for school, Kyoya!" he said. "Get up, today's gonna be great!"

"I don't believe you."

Tamaki smiled affectionately. "You never do. Come on, get up-"

"No," said Kyoya. "Everything hurts."

…That was new.

"Huh?"

"...Nevermind, Tamaki." Kyoya groaned as he sat up, and Tamaki wanted to squeeze him. "It doesn't matter. I have a headache. Start getting ready, I'm going to get some water and a lozenge."

Tamaki's brows furrowed. "A lozenge?" he said. "Does your throat hurt too?" Gently, he grabbed Kyoya's chin and put their foreheads together. No fever.

"It's probably just a bug," said Kyoya, extricating himself. "Are you going to get ready for school or not?"

"Uh, yeah."

Kyoya stumbled out of bed like a zombie.

"Are you sure about going to school today?" worried Tamaki, while they waited for the car to pull around to the front.

"It's a cold. I'm fine."

There had been no evidence to the contrary, but a little piece of Tamaki didn't really believe him.

He spent the day fussing; watched as Kyoya got more and more irritated. (It didn't deter him.) They walked to and entered the clubroom holding hands, until Kyoya finally decided he'd had enough and pulled away to plop down on the nearest couch.

"Hey guys!" greeted Honey. Tamaki indulgently waved hello, and stayed within Kyoya's reaching distance. Kyoya didn't even bother to look up. Honey peered at the two of them scrutinizingly for a second, before inquiring, "...Are you alright, Kyo-chan?"

In his periphery, Mori had become oddly still. Tamaki felt a strange impulse to glare at him.

"I'm fine, senpai," said Kyoya. "Thank you for asking."

Oh for goodness sake. "He caught a cold that's made him really tired and uncomfortable all day."

"Really?" worried Honey.

Kyoya gave Tamaki the evil eye. "That was not your information to share, Tamaki."

"You need to quit justifying not taking care of yourself."

"He's right," said Mori. "If you're sick today, you're sick."

Kyoya exhaled sharply, not quite a huff. "Once again, the concern is appreciated but entirely unnecessary. I'm here, aren't I? Isn't that enough?"

"No."

Oh, shut up, Mori-senpai.

Apparently, though, the ladies like it when handsome boys are ill - the day's turnout may have been the most guests Kyoya's ever gotten. He'd attracted quite a stir, looking all miserable, a little flushed, and roguishly handsome. (If Kyoya could ever be classified as "roguish". Slightly disheveled seemed to count well enough.) The guests couldn't help but flock to him, cooing concerns, well wishes, and offers to help. He'd even raked in some of Tamaki's guests, which Tamaki would have been mad about, if it had been anyone else in the club… and if he could stop thinking about how much he wanted to be taking care of Kyoya. His stupid wifey really shouldn't have come to school today.

Princess Mio in particular, one of the girls that were actually Kyoya's regulars, had taken it upon herself to wait on her dark prince's hand and foot. She was getting rather close to him.

"Can I get you anything? More tea?" she offered, leaning in. Kyoya faced her, good-natured customer service smile firmly in place.

"Shouldn't I be the one offering you refreshments?"

"No, no," said Princess Yuina, on a couch across from her host. "You work too hard. It's probably what got you sick in the first place, you poor thing."

Ah, receiving pity - Kyoya's favorite thing.

"I'm sorry," said Kyoya, taking it in stride. His voice became low, sultry. "You know I'd do anything for you girls, sometimes I lose track of myself."

All the guests cooed sympathetic "aww" noises in response.

"I brought you something."

As Kyoya looked up, Tamaki couldn't help narrowing his eyes. Honestly, how dare he? And when had he left his post? His package was busy at the moment, and he knew it. If anything, Tamaki should be the one bringing Kyoya things right now.

"Where did you get the soup?" asked Kyoya, breaking character.

"Where else? I paid the kitchen staff," explained Kaoru. He stood awkwardly over Kyoya with the bowl of soup in his hands, a spoon tangled in his fingers. "I figured you could use a pick-me-up. You're always supposed to eat chicken soup when you're sick."

"Thank you, that's very thoughtful."

Kaoru smiled and set the bowl down on the table. "Feel better. I've got to get back to Hikaru." He turned to the girls Kyoya had been entertaining. "I'm trusting you, ladies! Make sure he eats it all, okay?" And with that, he jogged back over to his brother to continue their act.

Tamaki was gonna kill him.

"Uhm, Tamaki?"

He turned. Princess Himiko stood there, her hand still lightly resting on his shoulder.

Smiling, he pushed his hair back with a flip of his head. "Oh, is it time, Princess?"

XXX

Later that evening, Kyoya's phone buzzed. He peered over the arm of his couch to check it.

"How are you doing?" read a text from Ranka, "Haruhi said you're feeling under the weather"

Kyoya hadn't realized Haruhi talked about him at home.

XXX

It was while Kyoya lounged with Tamaki in the refectory, a few days into his cold, his blazer draped over the back of his seat to circumvent the obscene warmth that had taken root uncomfortably in his bones, that he got accosted at lunch for the first time. Without warning, a tray of sweets set itself down with a clink at the seat directly across the table.

"Ah-" started Tamaki.

"We decided to keep you guys company!" cheered Honey. "How are you feeling today, Kyo-chan?"

Kyoya felt confused. Both Honey and Mori had an entire group of third-year friends with whom they spent their lunches daily… on the opposite side of the room.

"Hi," said Mori, pulling out the chair beside Kyoya and sitting down. Languid, he began to unpeel a mandarin orange on his tray.

"Uhm, I mean this with no disrespect, senpais," said Tamaki, "but we already have people who are planning to sit there."

And it was true. Kyoya tended to be unpredictable with where he ate his lunch (the classroom, a library, in the refectory with Tamaki; it was all dependent on how much work he wanted to get done), but when he sat in the dining hall, the table always filled up with friends and acquaintances of Tamaki's. The core of it tended to be a very consistent group, with very consistent seats.

"There's enough room to go around, right?" dismissed Honey innocently. "How's your cold, Kyo-chan?"

His cough had gotten worse, and he'd begun to feel perpetually congested and achy. "Fine."

"No you're not," said Tamaki. "I thought you should stay home today."

"You thought I should stay home the last few days, too."

"What's that?" asked Mori, pointing to Kyoya's barren plate.

…It was an apple. That was it. Due to the sheer number of times Kyoya had skipped it, he tended not to get hungry at lunchtime. Tamaki knew this well.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" said Mori.

Along with his answer, up crept the strangest sense that he was confessing to a crime - ridiculous as that was. "Yes."

"No." Mori began scooping beef and rice off his own tray and onto Kyoya's. Kyoya's brain short circuited; how was he supposed to respond in this situation? Disregarding his wishes seemed like blatant disrespect, but it was also coming at him from his friend and senpai in broad daylight. Was it a miscommunication? And since when had Mori cared at all about his eating habits? The entire experience was surreal.

"...No thank you."

Mori gave him a single glance out of his periphery as acknowledgement, and continued doling out vegetables.

"You can have some of my parfait too, if you want!"

"He said no thank you!" yelled Tamaki, popping up and slamming his hands down. The force rattled the silverware. Despair slowly settled into Kyoya's shoulders, not unlike the sensation of wearing something damp, as the regular commotion created by hundreds of students ordering lunches, chatting with friends, and milling across the cafeteria to find their seats came to a sudden halt.

Had he done something? Was there a reason the gods hated him all of a sudden? He dipped his head and pushed up his glasses to catch the light. He wanted to fucking disappear.

With all eyes on him, Tamaki quickly grew sheepish. It didn't take long for him to quietly sit back down.

Another few beats and the chatter started up again.

"He has expressed his desires on this matter clearly. I don't know why the two of you are bothering him," elaborated Tamaki in an exaggeratedly hushed tone. Kyoya didn't even bother fighting back as Tamaki grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled his face flush to him. "He's fully capable of making his own decisions and- you are burning up!"

"What are you talking about?" argued Kyoya, still smushed against Tamaki and peeved. Mori pressed his hand to his forehead.

"Go to the nurse."

"I'll take him-!"

Kyoya got sent home.

XXX

Haruhi knew she was smart, and she knew she liked Kyoya. She also knew that Kyoya never really cared to hang out with her of his own accord.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, she didn't think. He was amiable enough to her when club shenanigans were happening, and there had been that whole day out at the expo, but he would probably value work time over private time with her anyway.

Those were just the facts.

XXX

In the meantime, Hikaru could barely conceptualize not experiencing… whatever he was experiencing right now. With Kyoya.

He knew he hadn't, at one point. It was only a few weeks ago that Kyoya had been an insignificant blip on his radar. Hikaru cared about him, sure, and thought about him in the context of the club, but Kyoya had always been a supporting role in the host club's movie. The backup singer to a pop star.

(Tamaki wasn't a pop star. In fact, he kind of sucked.)

It seemed like blasphemy to recall.

Because a few weeks ago, something had clicked - a spark caught in his stomach and roared to flame in his blood, a lightbulb switched on and lit a path to the heavens - and he knew. Kyoya was made for him. They were meant for each other.

Which was why he had been so pissed when, the other day, Kyoya's fever had reached a point that Ouran Academy refused to tolerate, and he got sent home without so much as a goodbye. The Hitachiin twins found out later that day, when neither Kyoya nor their king showed up for the club. The memory still got steam coming out of his ears.

Kaoru had suggested this.

It was a great idea, obviously - Hikaru was known for his plans, but Kaoru always came up with the ones that mattered. So now, they were following a maid leading the two of them through sleek, impersonal hallways to Kyoya's bedroom, hand grasped in hand.

The boss wouldn't be there. His father had dragged him away for the weekend during one of his massive guilt-driven breakdowns that led him to attempt to spoil his child to the point that said kid hopefully forgot he was being emotionally abused by his own grandmother.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree, Hikaru guessed. Maybe mood swings were genetic.

Anyway, it would just be him, his loving brother, and Kyoya.

Brilliant, foxy Kyoya.

Finally, the maid stopped before a familiar door, knocked, then bowed. Kaoru turned the handle as Hikaru took a second to collect himself.

Just Kyoya.

The door creaked open.

"...Well, good morning. What are you doing here?" asked Kyoya innocently. He sat on one of the couches, facing the TV, a blanket on his legs and what seemed to be a history documentary playing in the background. Hikaru smiled.

"We're going to help you get better!" he exclaimed with his brother. They always share everything.

"We brought more soup," elaborated Hikaru. He gestured with the container he was holding, a pot filled with Polish cucumber soup. Kyoya straightened his back to see.

"It's best eaten cold," said Kaoru. "We've already grabbed utensils."

Kyoya's brow furrowed. "Thanks," he said. "But I don't need any help getting better. I'll be back tomorrow, I've just got a cough now."

"Oh, don't be a party pooper," said Hikaru, sitting down right beside Kyoya. (Glorious Kyoya.)

"It won't hurt you to eat some more soup with us," said Kaoru, sitting down closer to the opposite end of the couch and pulling Kyoya's feet into his lap.

"Whatcha watching?" asked Hikaru.

"Here you go," said Kaoru as he shoved a spoon into Kyoya's hands.

Hikaru took off the lid and gestured dramatically to the pot. He watched Kyoya's pretty fingers as he adjusted the spoon in his grip.

"The two of you need to find something to do," said Kyoya.

"We did!" they said together.

With a final roll of Kyoya's eyes, and a little smile that turned up the corners of his pretty mouth, he dipped the spoon in and began to eat. Something warm bloomed in the pit of Hikaru's stomach at the cooperation. It hummed through his blood like a cat's purr.

"You know," began Kyoya conversationally between bites. "It's odd, the sheer amount of attention being sick has gotten me. It's made me feel like Haruhi, in a way."

Hikaru's face scrunched up in confusion. He was sure his brother's were doing the same. He scoffed: "What does that even mean?" On Kyoya's other side, Kaoru agreed.

"Surely you two aren't stupid," said Kyoya. "You can't tell me you haven't noticed how the whole club fawns over her. Not that she doesn't deserve it, most of the time, I understand where you all are coming from. But, just, the simple act of me exhibiting signs of a virus… it's caused all of you have been so attentive lately it almost makes me feel as though I've replaced her role."

"That's ridiculous," said Kaoru before Hikaru could, snickering. "What, are we in a harem anime? You act as though we can't care for more than one friend."

As if Kyoya could ever merely be someone's "friend". It would be a relief that his opinion differed from his brother's (for once) on this topic specifically, but there was something behind Kaoru's eyes as he said it that just… made Hikaru nervous. Because he knew how to tell when Kaoru was lying.

Why would he be lying?

They were inseparable from birth, and they always liked the same things. Two leaves of a stem, basically the same organism.

The blood in Hikaru's veins turned to ice. He had the weirdest urge to sink his teeth into Kyoya's neck, make a permanent mark.

Then maybe sink his teeth into Kaoru's, and tear out his jugular.

"Hikaru!"

Hikaru blinked himself back into the present. Both of his hands were wrapped around Kyoya's arm, white-knuckled. Both Kaoru and Kyoya's eyes were fixed on him.

"You're hurting me," said Kyoya. Hikaru abruptly let go.

"Hey…" murmured Kaoru, "are you alright? Do you have a migraine?" He bent closer, obviously concerned, and suddenly, Hikaru felt like shit. Maybe he'd imagined the tells. Maybe his brother hadn't been lying. Maybe Hikaru was completely fucking delusional.

It would be nice if he quit leaning over Kyoya's lap, though.

Hikaru put his cheek on Kyoya's shoulder.

"Sorry, senpai. I must have not gotten enough sleep last night," he said. "Is the soup any good?"

Kyoya's eyes were as sharp as ever. Hikaru could see the wheels turning behind them. He wanted to crawl into his brain.

"It's alright," said Kyoya. "Thank you for bringing it to me."

"I think we should put on a movie," said Kaoru. He pulled the blanket up Kyoya's lap and adjusted it, like a caring big brother would to his sick baby sibling. (Like they often had for each other.) "What kind of movie do you like? Do you have any good DVDs?"

It didn't matter whether they always liked the same things or not. It didn't matter if Kaoru liked Kyoya too, or not. He needed to back the fuck off.

Hikaru and Kyoya were soulmates. He knew it like he knew there were stars in the sky.