Kaoru didn't know what to think, sitting in the cold, plastic chairs of the waiting room. No one did. He'd cried himself out a few hours ago, Hikaru was just going around in a daze; how do you compute this? How do you act after your friend tries to kill himself, and would've succeeded if his father hadn't walked in. It was a thought that was so… hard to get your head around. Had it not been for chance, Kyoya would be hanging from his closet door - a corpse.

The upperclassmen were asleep, Mori's head tilted so crookedly to the side that his neck looked broken, Hunny tucked into a small lump in his lap. Nothing too unusual, except for how restless the sleep looked, not peaceful at all. Then there was Tamaki, who'd also cried himself out, staring blankly at the wall, and Haruhi had her hand on his back in an attempt to keep him grounded. Still, it all felt like some alternate reality, like beyond this room was a void and nothing had ever existed. But that wasn't right.

Beyond this room was a ward. In that ward, in a private room, the most intriguing and spellbinding boy he'd ever met lay prone and pale, a tube down his throat and machines beeping. He was alive, but he looked so still it was terrifying. He looked like a sickly doll, a beautiful corpse, a painting that mourned over fallen angels and dead beauties. It was so disturbingly perfect.

"I'm fine, Tachibana, leave me alone," Ootori-san hissed for what had to be the fifth time that hour, glaring at the other man, "I need to be here. What makes you think I can go home now? What if he wakes up? He's my son, not yours."

Kaoru dragged his gaze over the two men. They were usually so put together, but after hours of waiting the image had crumbled away. Tachibana was only in his shirtsleeves, jacket, waistcoat and tie abandoned on the chair next to Hotta – who had his face in his hands. For men who were just so composed and tough, it was odd to see their eyes bloodshot and the skin around them a tender pink. Well, at first he thought it was; but they'd cared for Kyoya all his life, picked him up when he fell and protected him from any possible threat. They taught him and laughed with him, and they were all honorary fathers in a way.

And the boy they cared so deeply for tried to take his own life.

Ootori-sama's shirt was untucked from his trousers, creased and looking incredibly sloppy compared to his usual standard. His eyes were also a little pink around the edges, framed with lines and shadows that made him look almost as sick as his son. Tachibana should give up on trying to convince his employer to go eat and sleep, it wasn't going to work. Yoshio Ootori might not have been a great dad, but he was human. Unfortunately, he was a little messed up and it just clashed with Kyoya's own issues.

The less said about his mother, the better.

He sighed, leaning back and thinking on all that had transpired in the last few hours. It was mad, how life can just swerve in a new direction at a moment's notice, taking you off-guard and sending everything spinning like a car hitting a patch of black ice. It left everyone reeling, but now that Kaoru thought on it more… It wasn't out of the blue. Kyoya was obviously not okay, they just… didn't help.

The realisation lodged something uncomfortable in his chest, a small rock made of guilt that scraped his lungs when he breathed. He saw Kyoya… three hours before? Maybe four? It was almost sickening to think that he thought the other boy was fine – even if he wasn't okay – only for something like that to happen.

He didn't blame Kyoya. He'd been suffering for a while, after all; desperate people do desperate things. He blamed himself, he blamed everyone in this fucking room actually, but he was the selfish one. He didn't want to see Kyoya pained, and so he just left him. Well done, asshole. Jesus. He and Hikaru weren't that different, despite others thinking of him as the "less self-centred" twin - a pack of lies if he ever heard them.

"Right, okay, we've got food," Yuuichi sighed as he, Akito and Fuyumi re-entered the room with their armfuls of soggy sandwiches and packets of crisps. They ended up just dumping them on a nearby coffee table, clearly too tired to do much else, looking ready to just collapse any second.

"Just... Help yourself, I guess," Akito grunted, gesturing vaguely before slumping down into a chair next to his father.

It was all rather melancholy, as expected. He wouldn't want it to be jovial, it'd be jarring and out of place, not to mention thoroughly heart-breaking. The small victory of this was that Kyoya survived; but that was it. It was both the biggest silver lining and the smallest victory they could achieve. He wasn't okay, they couldn't kid themselves into thinking he was, and so they were finally forced to act like his fucking loved ones - like they should've done all along.

Yoshio's phone rang once more, and he cancelled the call with a murmur of "stupid woman" under his breath. Kaoru didn't understand why Kyoka was still trying; she wasn't going to see him anytime soon. Yoshio was angry, the bodyguards were angry, Kyoya's siblings were angry... He just found it better to not ask, even if that's what helped this shit to fester in the first place.

Hours were ticking by at the same speed as millennia, the room silent once more. It was stifling, the hands of the clock either frozen or winding backwards, all sense of time confused and swallowed under the tangible fear, concern and guilt in the room. But he couldn't leave. None of them could leave the hospital, because what then? How would they ever hope to convince Kyoya that life could be lived if they didn't even stick out the time in the sterile room.

Of course, a nurse did come, eventually. He was no longer in danger, but they were worried about the damage done to his larynx. He was still tubed, still sleeping, but he could have visitors now. Just one at a time, possibly two, they shouldn't overwhelm him. After all, there'd be enough to take in when he wakes up - diet plans, medication, the 72-hour watch - without having the room crowded.

Of course, despite Yoshio's insistence that he stay, he assured them all that it would be best for him to not be the one he woke up to. Their relationship was rocky, and he didn't want to strain him, pressure him. He just insisted that it couldn't be him, no matter if Kyoya was his child and the baby of the family. Kaoru saw where Kyoya got it from, Yoshio's thoughts seemingly spiralled behind his eyes, and overthinking was certainly an Ootori trait - both a blessing and a curse.

"If it's okay... Does anyone mind if I go?" Fuyumi piped up, hand raised so delicately, almost nervously, "I know you all want to see your friend, I just... I just…"

Her eyes were glazed, threatening to spill over, everything seeming to hit her at once. Her baby brother tried to die, that was a hard thing to even think about, and Kaoru didn't blame her. In fact, he looked up to her. She just dried her tears and carried on; a strong woman.

"I need to see him."

Kyoya was so... out of it.

His eyelids felt almost too heavy to even think about lifting, the beeping slowly growing in volume was piercing, and he just wanted to drift away once more. Everything was so muffled, but too vivid. His throat hurt. Everything hurt.

His mind was so slow. It was straining just trying to think of what happened - not to mention what was going on now. It was like wading through thick treacle, the rotted cells of his brain clumping together and turning into a goo that was far too viscous. It was like he was floating a couple of feet above his own body, unable to feel. He was sick of how intangible it all was.

Is this what death is like? Endless darkness for all eternity, nothing to occupy himself with? Maybe his aunt was right, maybe this was hell.

There was singing. It was gentle, sweet, some sort of lullaby that resided in dusty memories he didn't revisit for... whatever reason. He didn't know. The hand in his hair gently combed through the knotted strands, dexterously avoiding sharp pulls that plunked his hair from the follicle. It was so maternal, so caring, and he knew who it was immediately.

He tried to speak, but couldn't. Instead, he choked, his eyes going wide with panic as he found he couldn't move his hands, blinding him with bright white that he really wasn't ready for. Something plastic was in his mouth, down his throat, and he couldn't even move without something forcing his hands to stop.

"Kyo... Hey, Kyo, calm down," Fuyumi tried to soothe, but he just shook his head vigorously, pulling even harder, "Kyo, you're okay. You're fine. You've got a tube down your throat to help you breathe, okay? You can't take it out."

The beeping he'd heard in that odd, black place was getting increasingly fast, increasingly shrill. He still couldn't move his hands, and he wanted the tube out. It felt so uncomfortable, so stiff he was gagging and choking on it, and no matter how hard he thrashed he couldn't get out of whatever this was.

Restraints?

Sure enough, the cuffs secured his wrists to the bed railings, soft and mailable so he didn't hurt himself. After all, what would be the point of tying down your patients if they could just tear their wrists open on the restraints?

"I'll call the doctor, okay? Just stay calm… Keep breathing…" She murmured, her voice far too close to a croaked sob, "We love you Kyoya. Just… Please, we all need you here. Want you here. You'll keep breathing, won't you?"

He didn't know. He didn't know how to explain that he didn't know, what with the tube down his throat, but he wasn't thrashing anymore. His chest still rose and fell a little too quickly, his arms were tense and straining against the straps around his wrists, but his eyes were locked onto her. His darling big sister.

He could see the tears freely pouring down her cheeks, smile watery and crumbling into dust by the second. She was trying so hard not to break, and it hurt in his chest. It was keen and sharp, rather than a mellow ache, and God did it hit him hard. Of course, guilt didn't fix it all. Love couldn't pull him back from the edge. That would be all too perfect and Hollywood-ready.

Instead, he let his eyes fall closed once more, and wondered if he'd stop breathing in his sleep. But he wondered, rather than hoped, and that was a small step.

N/A: Can you believe there's only one chapter left? Nearly finished, I can't believe it :')