"Ano... Kyouya... why are we here?" Haruhi asked, staring around the small sitting room.

"Because Fuyumi thinks we need to be," he answered distantly, his eyes glued to the small screen of his PDA as he pecked away at the miniature keyboard.

"Do we?" Haruhi had to ask. She couldn't help noticing a nearby couple arguing in hushed voices.

"I would think not," Kyouya replied. "And you?"

Haruhi took a hold of his elbow and steered him towards a couple of chairs since he seemed too involved in his work to search for a seat on his own. "I don't think so," she agreed. "But we could probably learn something..."

For the first time since they arrived, Kyouya looked up, a pensive expression in his eyes. "And what do you think we would learn?" he asked, staring at her intently.

Haruhi shrugged. "You know, all that stuff about "making time" and so on... we're both so wrapped up in our work, sometimes we go days without saying anything to each other."

"Does that bother you?" he asked flatly.

"It's as much my fault as it is yours," she reminded him.

"True enough," Kyouya agreed. "Perhaps more-so."

"More-so?" Haruhi demanded. "How is it more-so my fault than yours?"

Kyouya crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat, smirking slightly. "Aren't you the one who refuses to come to my office, or take a vacation, or have lunch with me, or interrupt me when you think I should be preparing for a meeting, or let me-"

"I get it!" Haruhi said in exasperation. "But there's a reason for those things! Work first, right?"

"Hn," he replied, leaning his head against the wall behind him. "There is also a reason against those things."

"And what might that be?"

"Conflicting priorities," he said simply.

"Yours and mine?" she wondered doubtfully.

"Of course," he assured her. "I'm surprised you never noticed, you being as astute as you are. But then, to this day, you have a block towards romantic notions that transcends even the strongest of walls. You are fascinating creature, Ohtori Haruhi."

"Romantic notions?" she said, fumbling through the words as though she had no prior knowledge of their existence.

"Yes," Kyouya said, leaning towards her. "Romantic notions. Ideas surrounding love and affection."

She laughed softly. "Are you trying to tell me that romance, of all things, is your top priority?"

"Not romance, Haruhi," he said, sighing. "I am trying to tell you that you are my top priority."

Though it was rare for Haruhi to blush, she did then, just a light flush of her pale cheeks that sent Kyouya's mind into a spiral. Without any thought as to where they were, he moved his face closer to hers, his eyes fixed on the full shape of her lips.

Haruhi, realizing just in time what he was going to do, held a hand between them. "Not here," she said softly.

Kyouya blinked and nodded his agreement.

"Ohtori-sama?" said a voice from behind them.

Kyouya pulled away from his wife with some reluctance and turned to greet the newcomer. Rising, he extended a hand to the middle-age woman before him. "You must be Mutsu-san," he said politely. "I am Ohtori Kyouya, and this is my wife Haruhi."

"Please, call me Yori," the woman replied, smiling and shaking his hand readily. "I trust you are ready for your appointment?"

Kyouya glanced down at Haruhi curiously; for some reason she was still sitting. "Haruhi?" he said.

When she raised her eyes to his, Kyouya almost fell over in shock. "Haruhi!" he repeated anxiously, and suddenly he was on his knees in front of her, his hands, cupping the sides of her face as he tried to figure out what was wrong. His immediate thought was that she was hurt (why else would she cry?) but he quickly realized this was not the case. He then considered the possibility of thunder, but that seemed unlikely, since the skies had been clear upon their arrival.

"Haruhi!" he whispered. "What's wrong? Are you sick? Do you want to leave?"

"N-no," she sniffled, brushing back the tears. "I just... I never..."

Next thing he knew, she had thrown herself into his arms and was sobbing hysterically into his shirt. To say that he was bewildered would have been an understatement. By reflex, of course, he caught her, but from there, he had no idea what to do. Neither he nor Haruhi were in the habit of public displays of affection, so he did not know what would be considered appropriate for this case.

Fortunately, Haruhi saved him the trouble of deciding by pulling out of his awkward embrace and kneeling on the floor in front of him. "I'm sorry, Kyouya," she said, wiping away her tears with more conviction than before.

Kyouya took a moment to regain his composure (adjust his glasses, straighten his suit jacket) before saying, "Are you going to tell me what that was about, Haruhi?"

She shook her head furiously, and her eyes darted to Mutsu Yori. Kyouya also turned to look at the woman (who was gaping open-mouthed at the pair of them), and glared pointedly. She took the hint and bustled over to her secretary.

Haruhi sighed and looked at the ground. "I'm really sorry, Kyouya," she said again.

"For what, Haruhi? For crying? That's the least of my worries. My concern right now is why you were crying."

To his relief, she laughed slightly. "I just... never realized... that I'm the only one who needs to be here."

"Haruhi, a marriage typically implies two people," Kyouya said, rising from the ground, and pulling her up after him.

Haruhi shook her head. "That's exactly it! This marriage has been one-sided."

Kyouya looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "I'm quite certain that that is impossible."

"I haven't been treating it like a marriage," she confessed, eyes on the floor.

"I never expected you to," he replied. "If circumstances were different, and if my father was not who he was, I would not have forced you into it."

"You didn't force me, Kyouya," she said quietly. "I did it to make you happy. Only... I thought you wanted to marry me to make him happy. You... you actually wanted to get married!"

Kyouya could tell he was missing something. "Yes, we've established that," he said, scrutinizing her.

Haruhi shook her head again, this time vehemently. "I mean, you wanted to marry me not to make your father happy, but because you loved me."

"Of course," he said; her point was still evading him.

Haruhi swallowed. "I thought you were being forced into it, too," she said. "That's why... that's why I... I didn't want to get too comfortable... so if anything went wrong... I would still be able to... move on..." The tears had begun to leak from her eyes once again.

Kyouya placed his hands on either side of her face firmly, glaring down at her. "You thought I intended to leave you?!" he demanded.

Her lips trembled as she admitted, "I... I was afraid you might..."

Kyouya pulled her into a passionate embrace, not caring who saw, or what Haruhi thought of it. "I've told you I love you," he murmured into her hair. "For what reason would I ever wish to leave you, even if I had been forced into this marriage?"

"Things happen," she said softly. "People change."

"Not about this, Haruhi," he insisted.

"I realized that just now... that by being so distant, I haven't been 'giving you space;' I've been hurting you, haven't I?"

Kyouya tensed as he replied, "It was expected. As I have told you on numerous occasions, you have terrible perception when it comes to relationships."

She pulled away from him and smiled. "I want to fix that," she said. "Do you want to go somewhere?"

"Somewhere?" he repeated skeptically.

"Yes," she said. "Like the beach. Or maybe just for ice cream."

"Why?"

"Because I love you," she said bluntly. "And I'm tired of pretending I don't."

Even as he was processing the information, Kyouya turned and approached Mutsu Yori. "I'm afraid your services are no longer needed," he said, his mind still glued to the girl behind him, "But I assure you that you will be more than compensated for your time lost."

He did not wait for her reply; he swiftly moved for his wife and grabbed her hand, dragging her from the room as quickly as he dared. She followed along with a content smile, squeezing his hand a little tighter than was necessary.

xXx

"I told you," Fuyumi said, looming triumphantly over Kyouya and Haruhi.

They both jumped, having neither heard her enter the room or approach. Kyouya quickly extracted himself from the tangled mess of limbs that he had been so tightly engaged in moments before, glaring dangerously.

"Is knocking a foreign concept to you?" Kyouya wondered in annoyance.

Haruhi sat up and whispered something in his ear, causing him to visibly relax, a self-satisfied smirk appearing on his face. His young wife rose and left the room, but not without a backward glance at her husband.

Kyouya, who seemed to be struggling to keep his thoughts on his sister and not on the possibilities of his wife saying "I'll be waiting in the bedroom", took a deep breath and said, "Was there something you needed, Fuyumi?"

She smiled brilliantly. "I was right, wasn't I?"

Kyouya forced himself to concentrate on her words. "Right about what?" he managed to ask.

"Marriage counseling was just what you two needed," Fuyumi said.

Kyouya let out a low laugh. "Perhaps," he agreed. "It certainly did what I have failed to do for three years."

"And what was that?" she asked, still grinning with satisfaction.

Kyouya shrugged. "Nothing that is any of your concern. Please knock next time."

And with that, he rose from the couch and headed in the direction his wife had gone.