A/N: Guess who got off her lazy butt and decided to update this story? That's right! Me! I should be doing my homework right now but I have seven days left so…-grins-

Disclaimer: Even after all this time, I still do not own Ouran or any of its luffly characters.

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Kyouya set his fingers to his temples and pressed, trying to reduce the pain. Headaches were never good news, especially when he had a thesis to write. He forcefully closed his eyes before reopening them and surveying the room. In the corner he could see the twins entertaining their guests. But it was clear that things had changed. The two still held hands but they refused to make eye contact. Hikaru, possibly, had only eyes for Haruhi while Kaoru was staring directly at him.

Kyouya raised an eyebrow and instantly regretted it as the pain surged through his head once more. He turned away from Kaoru's stare and focused his attentions on the other half of the room. That day Tamaki had decided that they should put on a play, written by him of course. Tamaki was currently on his knees, dressed from head to toe in gold garments. He had chosen to play the prince role. Haruhi stood pouting at the side of the stage as a mute princess while Hunni and Mori played a servant in the castle. He and the twins were probably smart to stay out of the nonsense.

A yawn escaped him as he turned back to his paper. The previous night had been spent working on a different paper. The visit from his sister had set him back slightly and he had to make up for it. He raised a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat before bringing his fingers to the keys once more. For some time all he could hear was the click as each key smacked the bottom plastic. What seemed only moments later he heard a thunderous roar of applause as the girls in the room jumped to their feet to clap for their hosts.

Kyouya shuddered as the noise vibrated in his head. But he paid his respect to his friends and clapped quietly as each one's name was called. The girls (who weren't already standing) stood and exited the room, giggling to each other about Tamaki's hairstyle or Hunni's adorable nature. That was what they were here for. He continued to type once the doors stopping swinging open and closed. The effort was quickly aborted as a plate appeared in front of his face.

An assortment of cookies and cake lay under his nose. A dark red strawberry was practically stroking his chin. Kyouya turned his dark gaze to find Tamaki smiling brightly at him. He took the hand not holding the plate and pushed the laptop's screen down. Kyouya turned to look at closed case and simply stared. The blonde placed the plate on top of the laptop and handed him a fork.

"I thought that you might be interested in taste testing some of our new delicacies," he continued by naming each item in turn, starting with the key lime pie slice and ending with the butter cookie. "We still haven't forgotten your little trip awhile back." Kyouya wanted to scowl at Tamaki but he couldn't bring his face to wrinkle. He simply plucked a small sugar cookie from the plate and scarfed it down. He could feel it rest uneasily on his stomach and knew that it probably wouldn't stay there eyes remained fixed on the plate, feeling his mouth go dry at the sight of the deserts crawling in sugar. It made him feel sick.

"I'll be leaving for the day." Without thinking Kyouya tugged his laptop from underneath the plate and sent three slice of cake and a handful of cookies sailing to the floor. He finally managed a small scowl. "I'll send in someone to clean that up. Good night." A few mumbled good night's echoed from all corners of the room. Kyouya hardly heard at them as he turned and fled the room. He took only one glance back and found Tamaki staring at the spilled cake with a hurt face. Kyouya frowned but continued out of the room and around the corner.

He pressed his back to the wall and breathed deeply. His eyes were burning. What had set him off? That was a simple answer. All those sweets had brought back memories, one memory in particular. But why would he ever think of that? He scoffed at his thoughts. The psychiatrist had explained it many times before to him.

"How are you handling their deaths, Kyouya?" a small old woman smiled at Kyouya with kind green eyes. Her face was set with many wrinkles and dark bags hung underneath her eyes. He had to wonder if he would look similar in the future, or possibly already did look similar. But he attempted not to focus on the flaws in her face and instead focused on the bright jade eyes.

They were so bright and focused on the matter at hand. Once upon a time he had wished that his eyes were such a color and not the dark one that they were. He marveled at how her eyes reflected such a different message from the rest of her features. Happiness. That was what those eyes were saying to him. But everything else was out to destroy that image and all he saw when she closed her eyes was pain and old age.

Kyouya was often fairly good at reading people. But this woman was evading his power and he wasn't sure that he liked it. Of course, at any moment he could look up any information about her that he wanted to. But it just didn't feel right to do that…not yet at least.

"Kyouya?" the woman's voice echoed around his head and he quickly pulled his gaze away from her face and glanced at the bookcase in the room, rather embarrassed and ashamed for not being on top of things. That had been a regular occurrence.

"Okay? It really depends on how you define the word. Do I stay up every night crying? Of course not! I have things to stay on top of. But do I lie awake in silence for hours thinking absolutely nothing?" He stopped himself, assuming the woman would know his answer.

"I'm glad you're able to say that. Not many would be able to admit their weaknesses so soon after such a tragic event." Kyouya simply shrugged. "But there must be things running through your mind at every point during the day. Do you blame yourself Kyouya? Do you blame your father? And what are you feeling right now?"

Kyouya collected himself, preparing an answer before speaking, "Why should I blame myself? I had no control of that wheel and I am the youngest. Why would my elder brothers and father ever listen to me? As for my father…I blame him for many things but not this. If you really want me to put blame on someone, then I blame the man who stood at the bar and served those men drink after drink and let them walk out when all three of them were drunk." Kyouya was quiet, a sudden thought appearing in his head.

"But how could I ever blame him? My father was a responsible man, or so we all thought. And then he sent his own flesh and blood over a bridge." Kyouya could feel emotion bubbling in his stomach and he quickly stood up. "I think I'll end our session for the day." The woman only smiled and stood up to escort him to the door. They were silent as Kyouya pulled on his coat and tugged the gold handle to pull the door open. A question sat on the tip of his tongue. He kept it in until the last possible moment.

"One more thing…" he licked his lips, "I've had a lot of flashbacks lately…why? I can remember things that I was so young for and I never would have remembered them before…the accident."

The woman's smile softened, as did her eyes. "It's normal to have that happen. When something as horrible as this occurs, or rather anything that might leave a mark on you, we…we try to find happiness through our pain. And some people remember their cause of pain in a better light to forget it. It's normal to feel this. You're just looking for an answer. But Kyouya…you won't always find answers. Remember that and don't push your happiness. Maybe it is the answer."

Easter. Kyouya could see it. He and his brothers were set up in a line. His mother clapped her hands in excitement and kissed her husband lightly on the cheek. He smiled kindly at his wife and snapped his fingers. The boys' eyes widened and each one set off. The memory went by in a blur. Kyouya was pulling an egg out of the pantry. A younger him was engaged in biting the head off a sugary chick. Kyouya's mother had her arms wrapped her son's torso and was posing for picture after picture. Those pictures…he knew where to find them but he didn't want to look at them. His mind was vivid enough.

Kyouya draw another deep breath and wiped a small trickle of sweat from his neck. It was increasingly warm in the hallway and he wanted nothing more than to get out of there and return home. He attempted to turn the corner but stopped when a small laugh reached him.

"Did you see that cute outfit Tamaki was wearing? His came was just delicious," a high pitched voice practically squealed. Kyouya knew this as one of host club's customers but couldn't draw a name.

"Oh and Haruhi's dress! I envy how skinny she is. I simply don't have the figure to fit into something like that." This was a new voice. New voices rose up as the girls all threw in their opinions. Kyouya determined that there were at least five of them.

"But what about Kyouya…" this was the first voice again. Kyouya's ears perked and he inched closer to the corner before he could think about it. "He's been acting so off lately. I know that he doesn't accept many girls to host but he hasn't taken a single girl in weeks and it's not as if he's getting any work done over on that computer." Kyouya frowned but continued listening.

"I know! It's almost as if he's haunting the Host Club. Having such a depressed guy hanging around isn't helping them at all. Maybe he should just give up the club. I'm sure the others would be fine without him."

Kyouya wasn't sure whether to be shocked or just accept the facts that he knew to be true. He turned his mind completely off from the girls' chatter and hurried towards the front doors. He rummaged in the pockets of his bag until he was able to produce a cigarette. He stared at it with pleading eyes before snapping a lighter out and letting the smoke fill his lungs. The smoky hair hit him as he suddenly breathed in warm hair. By now it was dark outside and turning cold. He took his free hand and ran it down the opposite arm, suddenly regretting not grabbing a jacket.

With brisk steps Kyouya made his way toward the car parked outside. He wondered how long the man had been waiting. The man did his usual act by jumping up and hurrying to open the door, greeting Kyouya.

"I apologize for being late," Kyouya murmured, drawing another whiff from the cigarette, "Just a few matters to settle. I'd like to be on our way now. Straight home." The driver was focused on the white stick in his hand but quickly looked away and returned to his place behind the wheel. Kyouya scooted into the car and slammed the door, tossing the cigarette on the ground behind him. He sat up for a moment but suddenly felt his headache reappear and did something unlike him.

He stretched across the seats, letting his hands rest under his head and his feet dangle over the edge. The cold from the leather stung his cheeks and sent chills down his body but he wasn't registering. A sudden thought had come to him.

"What was so different about that night?" he spoke quietly, so only he could hear himself, "My father went to that bar so often. Why was that night so different? Why did he drink so much more than he usually does? Why?" He felt his eyes sting again and quickly forced them close. Why…Kyouya fell to a restless sleep.

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Kyouya tugged a thick blanket over his shoulders. He could feel a slight breeze blowing over his body and clutched the blanket more tightly around him. A sudden thought struck him and he quickly sat up, being careful not to drop the blanket encircling him. He was greeted by white walls, though they seemed black by the darkness of the room. Only a small strip of sunlight shone from underneath the blinds. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and was greeted with a bright red 12:00.

Kyouya groaned lightly but dropped back onto his pillow and reached down to tug a blanket up over himself. He was just about to reach sleep again when a voice came through the vent. Through slitted eyelids Kyouya glanced at the white metal. He realized that it was open. This was new. Familiar voices floated into his room. "I'm sorry Suoh but Master Ootori is not yet awake. He turned in late last night and was passed out in the car before even arriving home. I don't recommend disturbing him. I worry about him. He does not always take care of himself."

Tamaki's voice rose up, though it was impossible to tell what he was saying. Only moments later the maid who had answered the door spoke up again. "Thank you Suoh, Hitachiin, Fujioka. I'm sure Master Kyouya will be very happy to hear you called. Have a good day!" The sharp click of the locks informed him that his guests had departed. Footsteps echoed as the woman made her way up the stairs. She paused outside his door and pulled it open. A brunette poked her head in, a look of surprise on her face. "Good after noon Master Kyouya. Can I fetch anything for you?"

"Morn-afternoon Maaya," Kyouya yawned, feeling sleep still tugging at his eyelids. "If you don't mind, I'd love a bowl of oatmeal." He was lying of course. Food was the last thing on his mind right now. But he had clearly heard the maid say he was not taking care of himself. Well, he clearly had to prove her wrong, even if he was lying a bit in the process.

Maaya let a small smile cross her face, one slightly over the line for a maid. "Right away," she bowed in respect and backed out of the room. Kyouya waited until she left to let his head drop back onto the pillows. For some reason, the taste of sugar still settled in his mouth. He remembered the small cookie he had consumed last night and suddenly regretted it. He tossed the blanket off of him and hurried to the bathroom. A disgusting taste filled his mouth as he felt stomach bile mix with water and sugar. He guessed that it was only his mind creating the sugary product in his mouth. There was no way that he wouldn't have digested that cookie already.

After the job was done he wiped his mouth and then his face with two individual washcloths. He saw the whites of his eyes glazed with red and scoffed at his own reflection. Kyouya finally tore his eyes away from the mirror and returned to his bed. The cold shocked him but eventually the blankets warmed him and let hi s eyes close, though there was no chance for sleep at that moment.

He mulled over the previous day's events and pulled the blankets tighter around him. Kyouya knew what this was. And it scared him. He was weak. How could he not handle this? He drew his knees to his chest and sucked in a deep breath, suddenly desperate for air. The burning reached his eyes once more. Kyouya reached his hand up only to find a single tear on his cheek. Weakness.

He let one more thought carry him to sleep. The stages of grief: denial…anger…bargaining…depression…acceptance. Denial was something he looked to everyday in life. That was nothing new. Anger was there. Bargaining, pleading for something else, anything other than this. Depression was his weakness. Weakness meant he had failed. And acceptance? How could he accept anything with no answers? And what if there were no answers to be found? What would he do then?

Kyouya let his head fall back and pulled the blankets up once more before falling back into his sleep. The maid came in to deliver his oatmeal and looked sadly at his sleeping figure. She laid the tray down before stepping out of the room and letting tears of her own run down her cheeks. But Kyouya was too deep in sleep to register her sobs; to realize that he wasn't alone in his pain.

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A/N: Okay…I finally got back to writing and I don't think I got a lot of useful information written. XD Whoopsie. I hope that some of you liked it and I hoped to get back into rewriting chapters for as many of my stories as possible.

Now I sort of wrote this chapter because I just finished this really good book (a psychological thriller) about a girl who is buried alive. It really made me open my eyes but it also made me think about attitudes and mind set and I sort of wanted to include that in this chapter. Hope it's okay. :D