Chapter 7

Kyoya dragged his tired body through the front door of his home. Drained, emotional, and shivering uncontrollably, he felt like his body had gone into shock. As if it was shutting down, giving up, and demanding that he sleep for a week.

"Kyoya-kun, I'm so glad you're home."

Kyoya looked up in surprise to see his sister Fuyumi coming out of the family study. She lived with her new husband, so it was unusual to see her here. She came towards him smiling, arms open for a hug. Her expression changed when she saw his pale face and bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, my goodness, Kyoya, what happen? Are you all right?" She caught his face in her hands and brushed his hair from his face with her fingers. He winced, more from habit than pain, as she brushed against his bruised cheek.

He wanted to fall into her open arms and pour his heart out to her. He had always been close with his older sister. He missed her now that she was married. Of all the people in his family, he had always been the most comfortable talking to her.

"Honestly, Fuyumi, lately I've been feeling…" he wanted to tell her everything, the nightmares, the constant agitation, the panic attack in the hallway, "…a bit under the weather," he finished lamely. He couldn't do it. Overcoming a lifetime of behaviour just wasn't possible to do in a few moments.

"You're like ice," Fuyumi chaffed his hands attempting warm them.

"What are you doing here? Father doesn't like you hanging around. He says you have commitments to a new family now."

"Father is still at the office," answered Fuyumi. "Besides, I was invited. Mother asked me to come and help pick out new paint and upholstery colours for the guest bedrooms." Taking his arm, she walked with him to his room. "How long have you been feeling ill?"

Kyoya considered his answer. "A few days, I suppose." If he wasn't going to be honest, he could at least be vague.

"And you've been going to school? Oh, Kyoya, you work too hard."

"It wasn't bad until this afternoon." That was more or less true.

Entering his bedroom, Fuyumi sat her brother down on the couch. Shaking out a blanket, she wrapped it around his shoulders, but he still shivered. Sitting down beside him, she ran her fingers through his hair in sympathy. He normally wouldn't submit to her petting, but right now he found it comforting.

"I'm going to run you a bath, have the kitchen send up some soup, and call Akito to come look at you since Father isn't here."

Kyoya groaned. Even the mere thought of food made his stomach churn. "Please, Fuyumi, don't. Akito isn't a doctor." Their brother was still a year away from finishing medical school.

"He's close enough for practical purposes."

"Fuyumi, no."

She stood up with her hand on her hip and pointed a finger at him. "Little brother, you cannot crawl into the house looking like that, shaking like a leaf, and expect me to do nothing."

Kyoya sighed. "Fine. But just the bath, please."

Pleased at being allowed to help, she skipped up the stairs to his bathroom. Kyoya soon heard the sound of running water filling the tub.

Groaning again, he shrugged out of his uniform blazer and pulled the knot of his tie. Dumping them on the floor, he kicked off his shoes and socks. Padding barefoot up the stairs, he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the steps.

Fuyumi came out of the bathroom as he reached the top of the stairs. She scanned his bare torso and sadly shook her head. "Oh, Kyoya." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I'll tell Mother that you won't be going to school tomorrow."

He nodded his thanks and slipped past her into the bathroom. Seeing his reflection in the mirror, he understood his sister's sad reaction. The bruises on his arms and shoulders were still clear as day. One could almost make out actual handprints on his biceps. He traced his finger along his sharp looking collar bone. He had always been lean and sinewy, but half a week of stress and hardly eating was already starting to show. He looked attenuated and angular.

Turning away from his reflection, he clicked his tongue in disgust when he saw the large soaker tub. Fuyumi had put in bubble bath. He turned off the water and stripped off the last of his clothes. The warm water felt scalding against his cold skin as he gingerly lowered himself in.

He breathed in the lilac scented bubbles. He had to admit that the fragrance was pleasant. He leaned back into the tub and felt the warmth from the water start to seep into his body. He groaned as the tension in his muscles evaporated bit by bit.

Relaxed for the first time in days, Kyoya's mind wandered back to that morning. It had started out so promising. What had turned it downhill so fast? His parents' talk of the hearing set him on edge for some reason. Even now, the thought of going to court made his stomach screw up into a knot. He would do anything to not have to go.

Now that's an idea, he thought. Why did he have to go? There was no question of their guilt. Surely, he could just send a statement that could be read if needed. That way he could be free of the entire hassle. He smiled to himself as he cupped bubbles in his hands and pulled them under the water to watch them dissolve.

What else was irritating him? Noise, crowds, and people startling him. It was all eating away at his patience and wearing him down. Taking a breath, he slid down into the water submerging his face up to his eyes. He couldn't avoid going to class, he'd just have to buckle down and bear it. However, he could start going to class earlier when the hallways weren't so busy, and he could stop eating lunch in the dining hall. That was easy enough. There was only one other problem time: Host Club hours.

He lay back in the water, looking up at the ceiling. Did he really have to be there during the actual hosting? He didn't do as much entertaining as the other members. He was mostly just the organizer. Couldn't he set most of that up before the clients arrived? Tamaki wouldn't like it, but so what? He wasn't the one having meltdowns in the school corridor. If this is what needed to happen in order to prevent another panic attack, then he didn't really have a choice. Kyoya let himself sink completely beneath the water, his breath slipping out in bubbles above him.

The book landed on the floor with a thud. There was a pile of them scattered beside Kyoya's bed. He lay on the edge reaching down with one hand, idly picking them up and tossing them aside. He had spent his day home from school alternately reading and dozing. Midday he had tried to eat some soup the kitchen had sent up, but it had only made him feel sick to his stomach. Despite this, his body was feeling better from the rest. His mind however, still felt like it was limping. He was having a hard time keeping his thoughts from wandering to anxiety-filled scenarios and worrying about events that never happened. As if he didn't have enough to be troubled about, his brain insisted on making up new things to fret over.

There was a knock on his bedroom door. Thinking it was the maid, he didn't look up when he called his permission to enter. "And when you get a chance, please put some fresh towels in the bathroom."

"Oh, uh…I suppose I could do that. Where do you keep them?"

Surprised, Kyoya sat up to see Tamaki come up the stairs to the loft and plop himself down on the foot of the bed. For a moment Kyoya just stared at his friend's smiling face. "What are you doing here?" He must have come straight from school as he was still wearing his uniform.

"I came to see you, ya goof." Tamaki laughed and gave him a playful shove on the shoulder. "You didn't answer any of my texts."

"Ah." Kyoya had turned his phone off the night before and hadn't thought to turn it back on.

Tamaki's face became serious. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be at school tomorrow," said Kyoya, looking away and adjusting his glasses.

"That great." Tamaki leaned closer. "But how are you feeling?"

Kyoya sighed and turned to look out the bedroom window. Outside he could see the tops of trees trembling in the spring breeze.

"Kyoya?"

"Honestly, Tamaki, I'm fine. I'm just feeling tired and," he paused, trying to find the right word, "disconcerted about what happened yesterday."

Tamaki shifted on the bed so that he was behind Kyoya. "I know. It's okay." With the softest touch, Tamaki began to message this friend's shoulders. Kyoya closed his eyes and leaned back into it.

"I just don't know what caused it," said Kyoya. "Which makes me concerned that it will happen again."

"You've just got to relax," said Tamaki. "You've been under a lot of stress lately. You're always working so hard."

Kyoya hung his head and arched his neck while Tamaki worked a knot by his shoulder blade. "I enjoy working."

"I know you do." Tamaki pressed his fingers into his friend's tense muscles. "But it doesn't really help you unwind. You should spend time on your hobbies for that."

Kyoya groaned in equal parts pleasure and pain has Tamaki rubbed at the tightness in his back. "The Host Club is my hobby."

"I mean something you can do here at home, by yourself. Something that doesn't make you think too hard."

"I read books."

"That's a good start." Sliding his hand along Kyoya's arm as he climbed off the bed, he caught Kyoya's hand and pulled him up. "I'll show you what I like to do."

Kyoya pulled his hand out of Tamaki's but followed him down the stairs and out of his bedroom. Tamaki led him along the gallery and down to the main floor. Humming tunelessly, he kept trying to catch hold of Kyoya's hand, but Kyoya kept shaking him off.

Pushing open the doors of the music room, Tamaki skipped over to the piano, slid onto the bench and ran his fingers down the keys. The grand piano's voice filled the room with a light aria. Kyoya went to sit down on one of the couches along the edge of the room but paused when Tamaki suddenly stopped playing.

"Don't go all the way over there. Come over here and play with me," said Tamaki, patting a spot on the bench beside him. Kyoya hesitated but went and sat next to Tamaki.

"You know that I don't know how to play. I haven't studied music."

"Bah. You don't need to study music to be able to make it. Just ask any pop idol. Here, I'll show you." Tamaki walked Kyoya through a simple cord progression. Together they repeated the four cords until Kyoya was able to keep the rhythm without faltering, then Tamaki began to play melodies over top. Some Kyoya recognized, others he didn't. A few times he thought Tamaki was just improvising. All the while Kyoya kept a steady rhythm going.

Music filled the room. Pop tunes, old classics, TV commercial jingles. Kyoya was amazed at all the songs Tamaki could pull out of his head. Sometimes Tamaki would sing along. He didn't have the voice of a singer, but Kyoya smiled at the attempt while he focused on playing his part. They both laughed when Tamaki messed up a song and had to start again. For the first time, Kyoya thought he understood what drew people to master an instrument. All he could think about was the music. There was no room in his mind for fear or worry. He could breathe.

Tamaki's heart filled when he saw Kyoya give one of his rare, sincere smiles, then nearly bubbled over when he heard his genuine laugh. In the years that he had known him, Tamaki thought he could count how many times he had heard that laugh on one hand. He beamed at his friend, which in turn made Kyoya smile more.

"Too sick to go to school, but apparently well enough to fool around with your friend." The boys turned to find Kyoya's brother, Akito, leaning on the door frame, looking smug.

"Oh, no… we were just… we weren't…" Tamaki stumbled over his words trying to explain. He didn't know why he felt the need to explain at all. They hadn't been doing anything wrong. He turned to Kyoya for guidance and was disheartened to see that his friend's usual, stony mask was back. It was inevitable, but he would have liked to have kept lighthearted Kyoya around for a little longer.

Cool as frost, Kyoya slid off the bench and gave a polite nod to his brother. "I'm feeling better this afternoon, thank you. I will be going to school tomorrow." He turned to Tamaki and gestured towards the door. "You should probably go now. I have to make sure I have all my things together for class tomorrow." Without making eye contact with his brother, Kyoya slipped past him in the doorway leaving Tamaki to follow behind.

"Aw, Otouto, don't be like that," said Akito using a term of endearment for his little brother. "I'm not Father. I don't care if you play hooky from school now and then. You have so much freedom, you should enjoy it."

Tamaki and Akito followed Kyoya out into the front vestibule of the house. He looked his normal, nonchalant self, but Tamaki could tell that Akito's words had made him angry. His back was a little straighter, his shoulders tensed a little higher.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Tamaki," Kyoya called behind him as he climbed up the main staircase towards his bedroom. Tamaki could do nothing but watch him go.

"Uh, yeah… Sure… Bye, Kyoya." Tamaki gave his friend a small finger wave, but he knew Kyoya didn't see it. Beside him Akito blew out a sigh.

"I just don't get that kid."

Tamaki wasn't sure how to answer. To him, Kyoya wasn't complicated at all. How could he explain his friend's straight forward nature to someone who didn't already see it? "He just takes himself very seriously."

"Yeah, but why?" asked Akito as they moved to the front door. "He's the third son. He doesn't have to live up to any expectations. He's free to do anything he wants. So why doesn't he take advantage of it?"

Tamaki knew that Kyoya didn't view his family's prospects of inheritance, or lack thereof in his case, as freedom. Quite the opposite, in fact. But again, it wasn't something he felt he could explain. Instead he said a polite goodbye to Akito and left the house.

Walking across the driveway to where his chauffeur was waiting with the car, he wondered if his attempt to take care of his friend had done any good at all.