So you guys should totally leave reviews and stuff! I want to know if I'm doing any good. Remember, it's supposed to be interesting, different, and altogether ridiculous. It's Kyouya we're talking about here, after all.

Kyouya woke with a start, cold sweat covering him and staining the sheets. His pillow was on the other side of the room—quite literally in front of the bedroom door—and his hair was an absolute travesty. He panted, mussing up his hair even more, trying to remember what it was that he was in such a panic about when it hit him like a truck of cement speeding down a highway.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT… he internally screeched, almost incapable of catching his breath. …WHAT WAS—I DON'T EVEN—WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?

He looked down at himself, touching his chest and neck and looking underneath his shorts and underwear, inspecting himself.

Wait, he stopped himself. I'm… what am I doing? Wasn't it all…?

He stopped, sat still, slowing his breathing and racing heart. He fell onto his back and laughed almost maniacally before covering his face with his hand.

"What am I thinking?" he mumbled to himself, taking deep breaths to order his body back out of the emotional chaos he wasn't used to.

I shouldn't be worried about dreams, he thought. I should be more worried about… other things.

"Kyouya," Tamaki whispered whilst laying beside him, staring vacantly into the ceiling. The party being held outside by their classmates while Kyouya's parents were away again—all paid for by his parents—was definitely boring and he hadn't the patience to dally with all of the girls out there without his friend. The lights were off so as to not arouse the attention of the partygoers that could be heard

"What?" Kyouya asked, turning to face the blond.

Suddenly, Tamaki embraced Kyouya and then pecked him on the cheek with those sweet, naïve, and almost wise lips.

"W-what are you doing?" Kyouya exclaimed in a hushed voice, hoping to not attract attention to the bedroom.

He pushed Tamaki towards the other side of the bed, nearly shoved him off, only to bring about a bright flush on Tamaki's face.

"I'm sorry! I just…" Tamaki stammered, covering his mouth as he was shoved in the other direction.

"Don't tempt me like that, dammit." Kyouya said without even trying to hold the words in, allowing himself to become just as, if not more, flushed than Tamaki.

"Wait," Tamaki stopped and stared at him. "What?"

"You heard me," Kyouya said, turning to face the ceiling again.

"Ootori-san, are you feeling well? You're going to be late for school."

And he was brought back to reality.

"Kyouya," Haruhi said, tugging on his sleeve.

"Yes?" he snapped back to where he was, dragging himself from memories and feelings that had no place in the campus that was Ouran Academy.

"Something is seriously wrong with you," Haruhi said, shaking her head. "Not only do you never doze off but you never miss out on something snappy that anyone has to say to you."

Kyouya's eye twitched; concerned that he'd missed an insult he could easily turn against her for his own benefit. Then she started laughing and bent over from the giggle fit she'd thrown herself into.

"I was just kidding!" she laughed, covering her face. "I didn't insult you nor did anyone else. You were definitely spacing out then!"

He almost crushed his mechanical pencil when Tamaki bounced on over, practically tackling Haruhi to the ground with his "DADDY'S HERE!" hug.

"Tamaki—what on earth?" she exclaimed, regaining her balance but still squished between his arms.

"Daddy wanted to check up on his beautiful little girl!" he exclaimed, hugging her tightly. "What was Mommy doing to you? Did he make a joke? Tell Daddy, I never hear your mother make a joke because Mommy always looks too busy to make a joke!"

At that Kyouya felt the urge to bash the blonde's head in with his notebook, but being the young man of authority that he was, he simply smacked the back of his head with the notebook, earning a curious look from Haruhi.

"Ow! What was that for?" Tamaki fake-sobbed, all but deserving a good crack on his skull or two. He hugged Haruhi again and continued whining. "Mommy's being abusive!"

"Thinking that I can't make a joke," Kyouya answered his question. "You constantly underestimate my abilities, Tamaki."

Tamaki simply pouted but continued talking to Haruhi. Kyouya passively listened, hearing something about the crafts project he was starting on and wanted Haruhi to join the rest of them since Kyouya had other things to do. So Kyouya opened his notebook, realizing at that moment that it was the new one he bought from the crafts store.

When did I pick this up? He asked himself, trying to remember if he grabbed it this morning. The maid must have thought that I was using it and put it in my bag. I was in a hurry after all so I didn't think about which one I started writing in on the way here.

He saw that the words from last night were still on the first page and pushed away vague memories of the dream he had. As a way of pushing them away physically, he turned to the notes he was already writing on to find that there were more notes than he'd remembered writing earlier.

When did I do this? He stared at the notebook, skimming through the notes he was unfamiliar with and losing track of everything Haruhi and Tamaki were saying. I don't remember writing these and this notebook has been in my bag or in my hands all day now. I must be out of it to not remember when nor where it was that I was writing things down. Maybe I just wrote them down before Haruhi called me back from zoning out.

"KYOUYA!"

He snapped his head up from the notebook, glaring at the one that had yelled his name so abruptly. It turned out that Tamaki was the only one standing there, Haruhi further down the hallway laughing quietly.

"What, Tamaki?" Kyouya asked, turning his attention back to the giggling blond.

"You were so zoned in on your notebook that you didn't hear anything else we said!" he said, placing a hand on Kyouya's forehead. "What happened? Did you find something wrong?"

Kyouya moved Tamaki's hand away from his forehead and person altogether and shook his head. "I'm fine, don't worry about me. Worry about how I'm going to snap at you the next time you yell at me."

Tamaki shivered and Kyouya heard Haruhi still laughing down the hallway. She'd have called it their "antics" and said she had every reason to laugh because their friendship was beautiful or something like that. Kyouya closed his notebook and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, regaining his composure.

"Goodness Kyouya, are you ok?" Tamaki asked as soon as Haruhi was completely out of earshot. He placed his hand on Kyouya's shoulder and furrowed his brows. "You've been acting strange lately, I'm worried."

Kyouya carefully shifted so that Tamaki's hand fell away. "Again, I said don't worry about me. Don't make me continue to repeat myself."

"Well, is it because-?"" Tamaki started to say, reaching for his shoulder again. Kyouya grabbed his wrist and stared into his eyes intently.

"I. Am. Fine." Kyouya said quietly, without blinking, without moving, without any feeling. "Ask me one more time, and you won't be hoping that just your wrist comes back to you."

He almost instantly regretted saying such things, but he couldn't afford to let that show, he couldn't have Tamaki continue wishing that something else had happened. A time would come when he would have to destroy any and all hopes but he didn't think he was ready for that, neither did he want to be because that would mean—and then he was snapped back to reality for the fourth time that day.

"Kyouya, you're not fine!" Tamaki exclaimed, trying to shake his wrist away from Kyouya's grasp. "Come on, I'm your friend! We can talk about these kinds of things, can't we? Isn't that what friends do? I know things happened that shouldn't have but-!"

"Tamaki, be quiet," Kyouya hissed, squeezing Tamaki's wrist. "Just leave it alone! Things definitely happened but this is neither the time nor-!"

"Please," Tamaki interrupted him. "Wait a minute, let's go… somewhere else." So he dragged Kyouya a few feet back into the music room and closed the doors behind them. Kyouya still hadn't let go of his near-death grip on Tamaki's wrist.

"Look," the blond continued, a little bit more hushed as he was trying not to sound as panicked and confused as he was. "You have to give me something to go on though!"

"Excuse me?" Kyouya retorted.

"You're always honest and open with me," Tamaki said, bringing Kyouya closer to him much to the young man's slight disdain. "I'm your best friend, aren't I? You have to know that you can tell me anything! Even if it's no, I just-!"

Kyouya could not comprehend what was being said to him as Tamaki went on, telling him that being friends meant caring for one another and something about not wanting to lose him without some kind of explanation for some kind of behavior and suddenly Kyouya drifted off until he was interrupted in his spiraling emotional dazing.

"Kyouya, you're hurting my wrist."

He instantly let go, backing a step away from Tamaki. The look in his best friend's face was absolutely horrifying, somewhere between tragically hurt and on the verge of tears, the happiness almost emptied out of him.

"Tamaki, please," he said, furrowing his own brows in frustration, trying to cover up all of the mixed up and jumbled feelings he hated inside of himself, things that he just wasn't used to feeling. "We can talk later, I promise."

For once, Tamaki took the hint and backed off. He knew Kyouya was right, that there was no point in discussing anything here, not with Kyouya's head at stake.

"Ok," he said, massaging his wrist. "I'll leave you alone."

Tamaki walked out the door, turned down a corner, and suddenly Kyouya heard him pattering after some of his regular customers, gushing about one of the girls' make up.

That was horrible. Kyouya thought, wondering where he could go throw himself into a wall to slowly bash his own head in. I am a horrible person after all.

So? How'd I do? Reviews pretty please!