A/N: Well, hello there. It's me again.
So, thank you all for favoriting this story and for all the constructive, supportive reviews. Now I know most of you want to slap Kyouya. "Why the heck are you doing this? How could you do this to Haruhi?"
Not to defend his awful actions or anything, but I want to clarify; Kyouya is facing a very difficult situation and while he's good at denying himself something that is completely accessible to him, he's not so good at denying himself something that he can't necessarily have- like Haruhi.
Anyway, he'll eventually see the err of his ways, but don't worry for now. Please sit back and enjoy this next chapter from Haruhi's point of view.
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own anything that has to do with OHSHC. So after I go slit my wrists because of this unfortunate fact, I'll be back with more fanfiction.
I was scared to go to school the next day; as I lay in bed, I couldn't help but replay this afternoon's events over and over again in my mind. My lips still tingled with phantom sensation, and my fingers played across the sensitive skin wonderingly.
In fact, I didn't even want to get out of bed tomorrow, much less get dressed and go to school. My thoughts were whirling with apprehension, and an admittedly small part was mangled with longing.
My face was still awash with heat, that awkward (but not entirely detestable) scene played through my head. I was confused, as well; on one level, I knew I should be- and I was- mad at Kyouya for taking those liberties and then treating me like that, walking away with a smirk after he decided he was finished.
On the other, I couldn't say I didn't like the kiss itself, or those delicious liberties he took with me.
Though, no matter how many times I tried to work through the situation and piece together a logical response, I only managed to confuse myself further.
I suppose it all comes down to whether I like him or not. And that, if anything, was what twisted my thoughts into a snarl. Was I only entertaining these thoughts because I thought that Kyouya liked me and wanted me? Or did I like him because I really felt something for him? Or did I even like him at all?
I cried out, slamming my hands down on the mattress before knotting them in my nightgown. I was sick to my stomach, nervous enough that all I wanted to do was throw up, go to sleep, then never wake up- all in that order.
The next morning dawned bright, shining, and generally like everything that I wasn't feeling. I hadn't slept very well the night before and I was irritable on top of angsty about seeing Kyouya at school today. I could also feel a migraine shifting just beyond the reachable edges of my mind.
I couldn't help but wonder (unadmittedly hope) if he would try to kiss me again sometime during the school day, pull me into an empty hallway or closet and make me lose my mind yet again. The string of various scenarios flitting through my already fit-to-burst head made dressing very difficult.
It took me almost thirty minutes longer than usual to dress myself, and trying to knot my tie correctly was out of the question- besides, did it really look all that bad united around my neck? It was this disheveled state that caused me to be another ten minutes later as I endured a round of rapid fire questions from my father.
Apparently, if everything wasn't just so with me- if I wasn't exactly on schedule- then I was going to off myself according to his mode of thinking.
I offered the standard answers- "Yes. No. Not really. No, that's okay; you don't have to. Please let go of me." Another three minutes were lost as I tried to disentangle myself from my father's tearful, over-zealous hug.
I ran out of the house with my bag and blazer slung over my arm, momentarily distracted enough to keep my thoughts from Kyouya. The peaceful reprieve wasn't long enough, though.
"Haaaaruuhiiii~!"
I almost cringed at Tamaki calling my name; I was always irritated when he insisted calling into play his odd idea that we were a father-daughter team, and that grating tone he was taking with me was making my migraine stir to life like a hibernating bear.
"Haruhi! Why are you so… messy today? Why is my little daughter running around like a ragamuffin? It's shameful!" The King of the Host Club cried, a graceful hand thrown over his face dramatically.
I sighed miserably, not mentally able to fend off Tamaki's antics. "I don't know, Tamaki-senpai. I'm just tired, that's all." I couldn't help but feel Kyouya's grin burning into the back of my head.
Honey was sitting on one of the ornate couches, a plate of cake and his Usa-chan on his lap. Mori was standing by with a napkin in hand, catching crumbs almost as soon as they fell from Honey's mouth.
"Poor Haru-chan!" he cried around a mouthful of sugary bakery goods. "You must not be feeling well!"
"Yeah," the twins intoned from where they were playing a game of Rich Man, Poor Man on the floor. "You look terrible; you should probably get some more sleep."
Tamaki looked appalled, acting as if Hikaru and Kaoru had just gravely insulted me. "You idiots! How could Haruhi get any sleep when she is working the very skin off her bones just so she can eat every week?"
My face fell unbelievingly; how could he still think that? He had been to my house before and seen me out on the weekends! He knew that I didn't have an after-school job; beside, the school forbade its students from taking them anyway.
Unfortunately, Kyouya didn't have the decency to leave me alone for even one club meeting; it wasn't like the club would fall apart without him there for one meeting… Okay, it would, but still.
In reality, I hadn't even bothered to put myself together once I got to school; my clothes still remained a mess and my mental state was only marginally better. I was sure I was as harried as the twins' maid was.
All I was able to think about was the feel of Kyouya-senpai's lips against mine. Needless to say, quadratic equations and/or juggling were seriously out of the question.
"Senpai," I ventured carefully, still holding the attention of my doting 'father.' He looked back at me, peony eyes eager to grant my ever wish. "What is it, O daughter of mine?"
I gritted my teeth, wincing at the jolt of lightning that seemed to pierce my forehead with the effort. "Would you mind if I went home early? I'm not really feeling well."
Tamaki sighed, a little put out by my unimaginable desire to spend time away from the club. "Well," he murmured, after some very feigned deliberation. "I suppose so. I wouldn't want my favorite child to get too sick to come to school. What would such an absence from her family do to her?"
More than you can imagine, I snarled mentally, shooting Kyouya a glance from underneath my lashes.
"Thank you, Tamaki," I vocalized gratefully as I stood, making careful attention to the task of grabbing my bag before I left the room. I won't be making that mistake again.
But my careful ministrations were futile as a silky voice broke my concentration. "I'll make sure you get home safely." I froze, my back stiff and muscles rigid. I was sure that even a fluttering of wind from the open window would make me shatter.
No! He can't! It took all my willpower not to run from the room right then and there; well, that and the fact that I was more than just a little curious to see if he would try anything else.
The bespectacled man unfolded himself fluidly from the chair that he had been working in, balancing checkbooks and planning how to seduce naive girls.
"Um, thank you, Kyouya-senpai, but that won't be necessary…" I was about to offer further excuse as to why he could be alone with me, but I was cut off by Tamaki. I very dearly wanted to strangle the beautiful man with his own flaxen hair.
"What a good idea, Mommy! Making sure our little girl is well cared for and protected!" Kyouya couldn't help but snort quietly at that, and I knew exactly why. I needed protection from him!
Apparently, protesting was useless, so I gathered the rest of my belongings and fled the room demurely, hoping that Kyouya wouldn't- would- follow. My heart jumped fearfully- excitedly- when I heard heavier footsteps following behind me.
"Haruhi, I know you're confused about yesterday…" I paused in my walking, but I didn't turn to face him. My school bag was clasped in both hands, resting on my thighs, as I waited from him to continue- to explain why exactly I felt the way I did.
"But I couldn't help myself. Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" I whirled to face him, surprising him with the anger that was bubbling in my eyes.
"Do what, Kyouya?" I snapped, dropping the formality off his name. "Violate me like that? Did you ever consider that I may not have wanted to be treated that way? That I may not have like it?"
His face was slack with disbelief for a moment, but then it regained its carefully calculated composure.
"You may not have wanted it," he purred, leaning close to me, cupping my face in his outstretched hand. "But you certainly like it well enough," he finished, his lips just a breath away from mine.
"I… I don't know…"
This time I initiated contact, crushing my hungry lips to his. He didn't gasp, or act surprised in the least bit. He only slid his long-fingered hands into my short hair.
I didn't care that we were in such an open place and that anyone who walked by would see two boys from the acclaimed Host Club kissing with such abandon. I only cared that I couldn't feel enough of Kyouya through both of our uniforms.
His tongue claimed my own in savage strokes, clashed with mine in a primitive dance. His hand was snaking under my blazer, my wrinkled uniform shirt; I sucked in a ragged breath- causing us both to moan at the sensation- as his fingers brushed over my bare stomach, making it contract pleasurably.
He ripped his mouth from mine, breathing unsteadily. "Haruhi, we can't do this here."
I knew he was right, but I didn't want to stop. Would it be wrong if I brought him home? I mean, I want this badly, and it would be bad for any students to see us like this- with Kyouya's hand up my shirt as I cling to him desperately.
"You're right," I breathed, nipping at his bottom lip. He moaned quietly, releasing me from his grasp. I wasn't brave enough, forward enough, to invite Kyouya home with me as much as I wanted him.
"I usually am," he grinned, straightening my shirt out since it was wrinkled up beneath my blazer. "And right now, I think you should get home, and rest. You're frazzled."
I nodded airily; my head was spinning but this time it wasn't heavy with worry. I was thick with longing, glazed with wanting.
He turned from me and walked back toward the Third Music Room without so much as a good bye.
So there you have it, a very confused Haruhi left to walk home alone. I doubt she can even see straight, much less remember where she lives. Ha.
Until next time!