Disclaimer: Do I really have to keep doing these?
A/N: I'm not sure why I wrote this. I think I just wanted to show Kyouya in a vulnerable state. Too often he's shown as a robot on the inside as well as the outside. That's not the case. Kyouya Ootori is as human as anyone else. Of course, I think I made him a bit... too human in this. Eh. I dunno. I guess not. I really only wanted an excuse to write more Kyouya angst. :P Oh, and before I forget... If you read the previous oneshot, listen to this: The question isn't "what did he do?", but "what did he not do?"
"Weak."
The shadow sneers at him from across the room, lips curling into a smug grin. It sits lazily in an antique armchair, legs crossed, one hand holding a cup of tea that nearly frosts over at its touch. The intricate floral design adorning the fabric of the armchair doesn't quite match the dark suit that it is wearing – it looks out of place, yet at home all the same.
The man that had been addressed doesn't move to acknowledge the speaker. He simply continues to grit his teeth and clutch the carpet with hands that tremble.
"You are weak."
A voice that's both gentle and harsh at the same time glides over to his broken form, the shadow arriving only a second after. It takes a look at his position – down on all fours – and laughs. A short, barking laugh that makes him flinch.
"So strong around others… but so pathetic at home." Cold fingers entwine themselves in his hair, and then pull his head back violently. His limbs give out from underneath him. The rug scratches the skin of his cheek.
The shadow delivers a swift kick to his side, causing the man to roll over onto his back. "Come on, Kyouya. I thought you had more in you." Light glints off of a pair of glasses, an ice-cold smile being carved into a face as white as paper. "Hmm. Guess I was wrong."
The man named Kyouya stands slowly, breathing ragged. He will not be defeated by the likes of this monster. He will not. He has already been beaten by his two brothers, and it won't happen again.
"But you see… that's just the thing."
Startled, Kyouya looks up at the shadow, which is now leaning casually against one of the many white-washed walls of the ridiculously large bedroom.
"You weren't beaten. You didn't lose. You gave up. Stopped trying all together." It yawns and flicks an imaginary piece of lint off of its pitch black suit jacket, "That idiot friend of yours was right."
It takes every ounce of his self control to not attack the shadow the same way he had attacked Tamaki. Lies, lies, and more lies. They don't know what they're talking about. Words continue to tumble gracefully out of their mouths, but they still don't know and don't care and don't matter. Rage bubbles up inside of him, acidic and bitter on the back of his tongue. Red crescent moons appear on the flesh of his hands. Bloods surfaces on the soft skin of his lower lip. Control control control.
"People describe you as ambitious and determined. But you never really fight for anything you want. Not anything important anyway." The shadow smirks and its features shift. Tall becomes short, pale becomes pink, black becomes brown, arrogance becomes innocence. "Not anyone important."
Anger is pushed roughly aside by Shock, who brings Kyouya to his knees once again.
Haruhi.
Her name sends waves of emotion through him, each fighting desperately with each other. They fight a war that is impossible to win. Because she's so lovely and pure and kind and everything Kyouya will never be and never have. Because he wants her and needs her and no matter how hard he tries, he can't figure her out. Because she's Haruhi. And she attempts to be nothing more.
The shadow stands over him in the form of the commoner girl – the brilliant, mysterious commoner girl – and tilts his chin up with its fingertips. Kyouya knows that it's all an illusion, that she's not really there, but that doesn't stop him from being so terribly tempted. He's tempted and ashamed and oh-so-very weak. He feels the way he did that night at the beach house, only this time there are no words to shake him out of it. It disgusts him, how weak he is. How he lets his emotions control him when no one is around to see. The shadow laughs at the look in his eyes and grabs Kyouya's chin a bit harder, letting go to pat him on the cheek in a demeaning manner.
It doesn't say anything, for which Kyouya is grateful.
But it also doesn't change back before disappearing. And that only pushes the knife further into the wound.
Selfish. Shameful. Dishonest. Weakweakweakweakweak.
An annoyingly over-played pop song shatters the tense silence that had spread itself into a sheet of ice around the room, making Kyouya cringe. Wearily, he rises to his feet, gingerly picking his cell phone from on top of the dresser. A digital photo flashes on the tiny screen.
Kyouya takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and puts on his glasses.
"What is it now, Tamaki?"
Somewhere inside, the shadow smiles.