Pant—pant—pant.
Arora's breath came in rapid gasps.
Thump—thump—thump.
Her heart slammed against against her ribcage.
Slosh—thump—slosh.
Her feet pounded against the pavement, sloshing through puddles.
She ran. And ran. And ran, on through the darkness.
Gotta get away!
She had to get somewhere safe. But where?
Kyoya.
Her eyes landed on a familiar street sign—her aimless running hadn't been as aimless as she'd thought. She turned the corner, her foot landing in a deep puddle; she barely noticed the water slapping her leg, nor the rain pelting her face.
Kyoya!
She could see his house now. Her legs moved faster, propelling her toward safety. She flew up the stairs, nearly running into the door. She knocked, leaning forward with her hands on her knees as she gasped for breath. She looked up as a maid swung the door open.
"M-Mistress Arora!"
"K-Kyoya…" she breathed. "Kyo…is he…."
"Come inside, please."
Arora stepped into the house; she felt better already.
"I'll go and get Master Kyoya."
"Thank you, Hana" she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.
The maid—Hana—smiled gently at her before heading swiftly up the stairs. Another maid came a moment later, a fluffy towel in hand.
"Here, Mistress Arora," the maid said softly, wrapping the towel around Arora's shoulders.
"Thank you, Kiyomi."
Kiyomi smiled and curtsied. She looked up as Kyoya appeared at the top of the stairs, along with Hana. They descended the stairs, and Kiyomi curtsied again.
"Arora."
"K-Kyo…."
Her eyes filled with tears as he strode toward her.
He brought his hand up to her cheek; she closed her eyes, leaning into his palm.
So warm….
"Ah!"
Her eyes snapped open as he suddenly scooped her up into his arms.
"K-Kyoya?!"
He started up the stairs, without a word. Peering over his shoulder, she saw Hana and Kiyomi curtsy.
He carried her into his room, setting her down next to the bathroom door. She watched silently as he walked over to his dresser, returning with a black t-shirt, which he handed to her. She took it, staring blankly up at him.
"Take a shower," he said. "Get warmed up. Then we'll talk."
"Thanks."
He walked away, and she slipped through the door.
#
"Kyoya?" Arora looked around; where had he gone?
"Up here."
She looked up at the sound of his voice.
Ah.
She padded over to the stairs; when she reached the top, she found Kyoya lounging on his bed.
"It's nice to see you so relaxed," she said.
He smiled slightly, extending a hand toward her. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her toward him. She crawled onto the bed, kneeling beside him. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand
"What happened?" he asked.
She looked down, gripping the hem of her—his—shirt tightly.
"Keigo," she whispered. "He…he tried to…"
Her voice shook as she spoke, trying to put what had happened into words. It was so hard.
"I see," he said softly, sitting up. "You don't have to say it."
He brushed her hair out of her face, and she looked up at him.
"How did you get away?" he asked, caressing her cheek gently.
She leaned into his palm, a short giggle erupting from her lips.
"I stabbed him with a pair of scissors."
He laughed, and a smile flickered across her lips.
"Good," Kyoya said. "He deserved it."
"Yeah…" she agreed. "I stobbed him, and I ran. I stopped at the doorway and…I yelled, 'it's over, you jerk!' and then…then I ran here."
She leaned into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.
"Why here?" he asked.
"You're safety," she whispered. "With you…with you, I'm safe."
His arms tightened around her. They sat in silence for several minutes.
"I still feel dirty," she whispered. "I can still…feel his hands on me."
She felt his chest rise and fall with a deep breath. Suddenly, she was on her back, pinned beneath him. She stared up at him with wide eyes.
"K-Kyoya?!" she squeaked.
He paused.
"Are you afraid?"
She stared up at him; he stared back down at her. A beat of silence passed between them.
She shook her head.
"No."
He ran his hands slowly down her arms. She closed her eyes; his touch was firm, but gentle.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"I'm…." he stopped, his hands resting on her wrists.
After a moment of silence, she opened her eyes; he avoided her gaze.
"What are you doing?" she repeated.
He hesitated.
"I'm…erasing him."
She blinked.
"Erasing…o-oh." she blushed.
His eyes met hers again.
"Is that a problem?" he asked.
"Of course not," she replied, without missing a beat.
A smile flickered across his lips, and his hands moved up her arms. Her eyes slid closed as he caressed her neck and cheeks. Her heart skipped a beat as his lips brushed her forehead.
"K-Kyo…." she squeaked.
"What?"
"N-nothing."
She heard him chuckle, and her cheeks flamed hotter. He kissed her cheek, moving down to her jaw; he started down her neck, and she gasped. His hands slid under her shirt, caressing her hips and stomach, as his lips worked down her neck to her collarbone.
"Did he get further than this?" Kyoya whispered against her collarbone.
"N-no."
His hands left her shirt, coming to rest on either side of her head as he propped himself up above her. She opened her eyes, looking up at him. His cheeks were slightly pink, but he seemed unfazed.
"Did I miss anywhere?" he asked, staring down at her.
"No," she whispered.
One of his hands moved, his thumb brushing over her lower lip.
"He didn't kiss you?"
"No."
He leaned close to her, his lips just a breath away from hers. He stared into her eyes—gaging her reaction—and she stared back.
He seemed…conflicted.
He pulled away.