A/N: To be honest, I was a little . . . embarrassed when I wrote a certain . . . part of this. That's why this chapter took as long as it did. But I hope you enjoy. And a few chapters ago, when I first introduced Fuyumi, a few review had claimed that she seemed OOC. I tried to improve on this without changing her too much. What do you think? Better?

And also, if I made chapters shorter, I might be able to update more frequently. What's your vote?

And another also . . . I'm going to the beach on Sunday for roughly a week. Usually, we don't get WiFi in our condo. So I promise that I'll be writing, but I won't be able to update. I'll definitely update the minute I get back though! You can count on it!

After school let out, it was just another comfortable afternoon at Haruhi's place, doing their homework. Or attempting to, rather.

"Kyouya, I've been stuck on the same math problem for almost ten minutes! Could you please keep your hands to yourself long enough for me to figure out how many times 14 goes into 548 at the very least!?"

"Why?" Kyouya grinned and slid a little closer to the flustered girl. Well, if there had been that much room between them to begin with. "Are you trying to say that it's difficult to think when I'm around?" he asked, thoroughly amused.

"Extremely difficult," Haruhi huffed, trying to act all angry and tough, but really her cheeks were a bright red and she had long ago given into drawing tiny circles on her page in a futile effort to distract herself.

Schoolwork was a sacred field to Haruhi, and Kyouya tried his best to respect that. But when after finishing his portion nearly half an hour ago, it was hard not to resist teasing Haruhi a little. As Haruhi turned to Kyouya with an irritated glare, he laughed gently and wrote the answer to the problem for her, not even needing to glance at her calculator.

"You're welcome," he chuckled before giving her a little bit more space.

At that moment, Ranka walked in, his makeup fixed to perfection and his hair recently curled (Kyouya had been slightly disturbed at the sight of a grown man wearing fluffy pink curlers, but he handled it with his usual grace and polite smile). As he retrieved his purse, he told Haruhi, "My ride should be here soon, and then I'm off! I'm covering for a friend, so I probably won't be back from work until late. Will you be okay?"

"Sure, no problem," Haruhi replied with a shrug.

Ranka squealed and glomped his daughter. "That's my Haru-chan! Ever so independent and strong! But seriously, if there's any problem, Daddy will be here in a heartbeat."

"Kyouya's here too, Dad," Haruhi reminded, trying to free herself before she suffocated. "I'll be fine."

"Oh, that's right!" Ranka remarked, as if he only just remembered. Still hugging Haruhi, he turned to Kyouya. "He's here."

"Actually, I might be leaving soon," Kyouya said casually, pulling out the gentleman card to put Ranka at ease.

But it turned out it wasn't necessary. Ranka smiled widely and did the unbelievable—patted Kyouya's head. Haruhi half expected Kyouya to snap at the too familiar and slightly demeaning gesture, but he took it in his stride, as usual. "Don't leave so soon!" Ranka sang, still patting Kyouya's head. "No rush, no rush! You ought to stay and have Haruhi make you dinner. Just one bite of her cooking is 100% guaranteed to steal your heart!"

Kyouya flashed Haruhi a look and said in a low voice, "It was stolen a long time ago."

Haruhi blushed even further and stared at her hands. He's just playing Host Club. He's just playing Host Club. He's just playing Host Club! she thought to herself, trying to calm down. Fake, fake, fake! But every time she dared to glance back at Kyouya, he was still staring at her.

Ranka squealed and finally unattached himself from Haruhi . . . only to glomp Kyouya. Haruhi squeaked in horror, but there was nothing to worry about. Kyouya returned the hug, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Kyaaa! If only you were older! You certainly know how to make an okama's heart flutter. Haru-chaaaan! I'm so jealous!" Ranka gushed.

"Yeah, yeah. Can you let him go now?" Haruhi mumbled. Luckily, Ranka complied, though he felt the need to loudly hum "Here comes the Bride." Haruhi had to stifle the desire to run screaming through the house in mortification.

"A-anyway," Haruhi said over her father's obnoxious, out of tune humming. "Back to homework. Are you sure that's right, Kyouya?"

"What are you talking about? Of course it is."

"But you barely even thought about it," Haruhi continued as she checked his answer in the calculator. But it turned out he was right. The girl felt a vein throb in her temple. "Damn smart, rich bastard."

Kyouya wisely chose not to comment on her remark, but his smirk aggravated Haruhi just as much as anything he could have said.

Ranka watched them work for a bit as he waited for his ride, but he seemed to decide that the math was too complicated. Growing bored, he nudged Kyouya and said, "So, Kyouya. You're a senior this year, aren't you?"

"Yes sir. That's right."

Ranka sighed ruefully. "That means graduation isn't too far away, huh? Do you have an idea of what you want to do with your life?"

"I'm still expanding my boundaries, seeing how much I can get away with. Going to medical college is a given, and taking over one of my father's companies is a possibility. But who knows? I think my father has plans for me." And then, Kyouya smiled. Haruhi stared at him, puzzled. There was something off about his smile. Was something wrong?

Before she could look closer, however, a car horn went off. Ranka jumped to his feet and bid the two goodbye. The okama rushed out, and then all was quiet. Haruhi sighed in relief and bent over her scratch work again. Kyouya occasionally offered some help, but for the most part, he was quiet. When Haruhi had finally finished with her math and moved onto her English translation, Kyouya asked out of the blue, "What about you, Haruhi? I know you want to be a lawyer, but what are your college plans?"

"Hmmm?" Haruhi replied, only half listening as she concentrated on the western letters. "Not sure yet, I guess. Depends on what's affordable. Unless I can find another generous scholarship."

"You know, I know that Ouran sponsors a particular scholarship that allows you to study abroad in America. I bet you could get it easily."

"Yeah," Haruhi sighed out with a wistful sigh. "The superintendent's already mentioned it to me, actually. It'd be great if I could get it. America! What an opportunity."

"So would you take it then? Would you go to America?"

"Huh?" Haruhi looked at Kyouya. The way he stared at her so intently . . . it seemed as if he was testing her. She raised her eyebrows up at him, but he offered no hint as to the correct answer. His face was completely unreadable, a glare on his glasses shielded his eyes.

"Of course," Haruhi finally replied. "Who would waste such an amazing scholarship? Plus, getting such a strong, solid education would almost assure my success as a lawyer."

Kyouya shifted a little, and the glare from his glasses was gone. He smiled, and it was almost identical to the one before. "True," he said softly.

Haruhi bent over her paper, tapping her pencil thoughtfully. "Hnnn, talking about the future like this seems a little sad, doesn't it?"

". . . .yes."

Something in his voice caught her attention. Haruhi pursed her lips and very nearly asked what was bothering him so much, but she knew her enigmatic sempai by now. If he wanted to tell her something, he would have done so already. To lighten the air, Haruhi forced out a rueful chuckle. "Although, if I have plans to study abroad in America, I can't fail my English class. So can I finish my homework already? I'll be done in a second, I promise. And then I can make you dinner if you want."

And Haruhi focused her attention back on her homework again, shutting Kyouya out. He felt a little agitation and impatience as he watched her. He didn't want her to do homework. There was no time for homework. Who had ever invented such a useless and trivial thing as homework?

There she was, sitting there. Living and breathing in front of him. Her brow furrowing in an adorable expression of concentration. Her lips sounding out each word as she figured out their meaning. The fingers of her left hand gently drum rolling on the table. Just a few days ago, Kyouya had marveled at how real she seemed. But now, he wondered if he had been mistaken. As if to check to make sure she was not an illusion, he hesitantly brushed his hand against her cheek. Haruhi ignored him. She was serious this time. She wanted to finish her homework, and she didn't desire any more distractions when she was so close to being done.

Fine. Let her ignore him. Kyouya slid closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. He could sense Haruhi trying her best to focus, but as he buried his face in her hair and inhaled the scent of her shampoo, he knew that her attention.

"Kyouya," Haruhi sighed exasperatedly.

"School's overrated anyway."

Haruhi shivered when she felt Kyouya's lips trailing down her neck. "Strange that you would say that."

"Not strange. It's always been a waste of my time. There are more . . . important things," he murmured. His hands hesitated at her waist for a moment before slipping under her shirt.

Haruhi sucked in her breath at the feeling of his icy cold fingers touching her bare skin. "Kyouya!" she exclaimed sharply, removing his hands. "What are you—?" But he interrupted her with a kiss. The familiar sensation of his lips on hers left her dazed for a moment, even if he was being rougher than usual. Distantly, she could feel his body on top of hers, pinning her to the ground. She could feel him loosening her tie and beginning to unbutton her shirt.

"Stop," Haruhi gasped out breathlessly.

"We're alone," Kyouya said quietly. As if that made it alright.

"So what! Just let me breathe for a second and think!"

"What's there left to think about? I love you." Haruhi swallowed at the l-word. "Do you love me?"

"It's not about that, Kyouya. This is all . . . it's happening too fast!" Haruhi said, almost pleaded.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, though there was no humor behind it. "You didn't put up nearly this much resistance at the beach house," Kyouya remarked.

"That's because I knew you weren't really going to go through with it."

"Are you sure . . . ?"

Kyouya removed his own shirt, and he carefully took Haruhi's hands and placed them against his chest. He guided her fingers around the contours of his body. "Haruhi . . . you are mine, are you not?"

He knew he wasn't being fair. He could feel her trembling underneath him. Haruhi was so vulnerable. But he wanted her. He needed her. And he had to know if she felt the same.

"You're so warm," he groaned. Kyouya leaned in for another kiss, which Haruhi returned, and for a moment Kyouya considered it as good as a yes. But then she gently pushed him away. A bit of that old, stubborn light had reentered her brown eyes as she gazed at him evenly.

"You shouldn't need sex to know that I love you too."

Kyouya started a little at that, taken aback by her bluntness.

Haruhi continued. "Call me old-fashioned, Kyouya. But I'm a virgin." Despite herself, she blushed. "And I plan to stay a virgin until I marry." Her voice turned a little hard as she added, "Whether or not the person I marry is you."

Kyouya chuckled. "Haruhi, is now really the time to start a lecture on morals that have no weight in modern society anyway?" He finished unbuttoning her shirt, feeling her look of disapproval weighing down on him the entire time. He kissed her smooth, exposed skin, from just below her belly button to her small chest, always taking his time. "Does it feel good?" he asked.

"Yes," Haruhi admitted with a small whisper.

Kyouya reached around her so that he could unhook her bra. "Then I don't see why—"

Haruhi kissed him, cutting him off. While he was distracted, she pulled his hands away from her back and held them tightly in her own, as if shackling them.

"No," Haruhi said firmly, with one last kiss on his cheek.

And that was that.

Haruhi crawled out from under him and silently went to work buttoning her shirt again. Her back was to Kyouya, stiff and proud. With an angry snort, Kyouya grabbed his own shirt in annoyance. But it was mostly aimed at himself.

I feel like an idiot, Kyouya thought to himself irritably.

It was unbearably quiet. The girl cleared her throat. "I think I'll make dinner now. Feel free to stay," Haruhi mumbled. And she started to get up, to leave him, but Kyouya wasn't having any of that. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into his arms, hugging her tightly.

"I'll help you," Kyouya mumbled after a while.

"Fine."

He held her a little tighter. ". . . . . I'm sorry."

Kyouya could feel Haruhi smile slightly against his collarbone. He was tempted to push her back on the floor again and see if the second try would hold more luck. But he resisted, contenting himself with just holding her. And since it involved being clothed, Haruhi didn't seem to mind too much. Neither of them were all that hungry anyway.

But Haruhi, Kyouya said mentally, closing his eyes, I want you. And I might not have much time left.

"Ehhh? You're playing the piano again?"

Kyouya paused and glanced over his shoulder just as the lights came on in his room. Fuyumi was standing in the doorwary, smiling gently and holding a laundry basket full of Kyouya's clothes. Figures, Kyouya thought to himself resignedly.

"I've just recently picked it back up again," he explained, quickly shoving his notes in a neat pile so that Fuyumi couldn't see. He felt faintly uncomfortable, but refused to show it.

Fuyumi sighed dreamily as she walked in. Or maybe waltzed was a better word for it. "It's been so long since I've heard you on the piano. I don't think you've played since the year you first became friends with that Suoh kid. But for such a long absence you don't sound too rusty. I didn't recognize the song however."

"That's good. That means it's original."

"Original?" Fuyumi laughed, but Kyouya didn't care to further explain. So she rolled her eyes and headed for his couch.

Kyouya watched his sister begin to fold his clothes with an air of perplexity. "You don't have to do that," he said, wincing almost imperceptibly.

"If I didn't, then who would?" Fuyumi exclaimed dramatically.

"Funny. I had always assumed that's what servants were for."

Fuyumi stuck her tongue out at him and continued her sloppy folding of the clothes. And after that, she was sure to sloppily put them in his dressers. Kyouya hated disorder.

They were both quiet. Kyouya glared at the piano keys but didn't have the heart to start playing again. The mood grew heavy and somber. Scenes of that afternoon flitted around in his head.

"How are you and that Haruhi girl doing?" Fuyumi asked softly.

Kyouya saw Haruhi underneath him, her bare skin both opened and closed to him. "Fine," he replied curtly.

"I heard that you were considering Father's South Africa offer."

"Really?" he replied in a bored, detached voice.

Fuyumi finished folding and turned to look at Kyouya. Her hands were poised on her hips. "What about Haruhi?"

"What about her?"

"What are you going to do?"

Kyouya didn't say anything.

"Oh, Kyouya," Fuyumi sighed.

"Why are you so suddenly considered? Weren't you the one who told me to break up with her? Who's side are you on?"

"I know," Fuyumi said, but then stopped, frowning. "Or maybe I don't know. Who knows?" Fuyumi sighed again, only more frustrated this time. "I'm just confused, Kyouya. But I really do want what's best for you. I want you to be happy."

A half-smile formed on his lips. "I know."

"So . . . ?" When Kyouya didn't answer right away, Fuyumi pressed even further. "What are you thinking?"

Kyouya's fingers fiddled back and forth between two notes. "If Haruhi were to go away to achieve her dream, I wouldn't stop her. I would probably push her to it. Because I know it's important to her." He paused before adding quietly, "I'm sure she would probably do the same for me."

"She's not exactly rich though, right? She couldn't just come to visit you at the drop of a visa card. And once you get involved in the business, I'm not sure you'd have time to do the same."

"We'd make it work."

Fuyumi gazed at Kyouya evenly until he looked up at her. "Would she be willing to wait for you like that, though? What if she found someone else while you were absent? I mean, you are asking a lot from her."

Kyouya's stomach clenched at that thought. But he kept his face passive. "I trust that Haruhi will remain faithful, and I know I certainly will be. I don't want anyone but her."

"But if she does find someone else?" Fuyumi persisted.

Kyouya stood up from the piano and walked over to his sister. But he didn't stop at her. He went passed her and headed for the couch, where he began to correct his sister's poor attempt to fold his clothes. After folding four of his shirts and one pair of pants, Kyouya finally trusted himself to give a clear answer. "You were the one who said Haruhi might be happier with someone more of her level. If she finds someone else, then I'll let her be."

"I'm not sure if I believe that," Fuyumi said with a wry smile. "Even as a child, you were never one to share the toys you discovered."

Kyouya grinned a wry grin right back at her. "You're right. But can I help it? It's in my nature to be possessive."

Fuyumi ruffled his hair playfully, which Kyouya did not care for all that much. As he fixed his hair again, Fuyumi laughed at him and headed for the door. "Whatever you choose, I'm here for you."

She left, leaving the door wide open. Kyouya snorted at that and went to shut it. "She never shuts the door behind her," he grumbled, but with good-nature. After he finished folding and placed the clothing in their respective drawers exactly the way he liked them, he sat by the piano once again. He spent a good part of his night by it, occasionally jotting down notes on the papers he had hidden from Fuyumi.