Two: Dreaming

Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now?

It was a dream unlike any I had ever had before, and I can recall it vividly even now. I was in my bed, in my room, just as in reality. Unlike reality, the darkness was not so much a comforting velvet blanket as a net, trapping me, pinning me down, holding me in place. I was terrified enough before the phantom even appeared. I knew he was coming, I think that was why.

Inside the darkness were flashes of light. Inside the flashes was a face. I think I knew it, it wasn't so different to my own. Dark hair, and glasses, grey eyes. I knew him. Somehow, I knew him.

"Kyouya?"

He was alive. Somewhere. In another world. Did I have to find him?

"You shouldn't be here." A voice said, a cold voice, furious; I didn't know where it was coming from. I couldn't move to look. Was it coming from the darkness itself? "You shouldn't be here. He died so you could be here. You shouldn't be here. Is this why he died? Did he die so you could be here? He died so you could be here!"

The accusations continued, pinning me down, terrifying me. I managed to lift my head. There was a figure, cloaked, hood up, pointing a finger at me. The voice did not seem to come from him, it came from everywhere, the allegations overlapping and bouncing off the walls, showering into me, stabbing me from all sides.

"This is not how it is meant to be!" The voice bellowed, and I woke with a start, in my own room. My own shallow breathing was the only sound. That scared me more than anything. Never had I been so terrified at something conjured from my own imagination. When had a simple dream ever scared me so much?

Perhaps it was more than a dream.

I dismissed the thought quickly as stupid. Even so, all I could see was the face I had imagined to be my brother's. And those words. You shouldn't be here...

A maid interrupted my thoughts. "Ah, Miss Ootori!" She exclaimed. "Aren't you dressed yet? Suoh-kun is already downstairs waiting for you!"
That made me snap out of my funk, as I pushed my glasses on and gawped at the clock. It was a good job we usually got to school early. How had I slept through my alarm again?

Tamaki was quietly amused when I made it downstairs. "Did you sleep through the alarm again, princess?" He asked. "My sleeping beauty. Perhaps I should kiss you..."

"I'm awake now." I pointed out. "And doesn't it have to be from your true love?"

"Let's find out." Tamaki suggested, and kissed me. I kept it brief. We were running late, after all. It was a shame, though. I needed something to distract me from the memories of my dream. It hung over me that day like a shadow. I told myself I was behaving no differently to usual, that I didn't seek comfort when he held my hand, but I knew I was. He probably knew too, probably thought it was still because of the argument I had overheard the previous day. I still hadn't told him the details. I wasn't sure I should.

At least there was plenty that day to distract me. First all my classes, and then the Host Club, and then, to my chagrin, a photo shoot. The twins had asked me weeks ago if I would be willing to model some outfits for their mother, and I had said no. I had continued to say no until my father found out and then I had to say yes. It would be good publicity, he said, and the Hitachiins were an important company, even if they were currently outside our line of interest. He claimed it couldn't hurt.

Thus, later that evening, I tried to stop my smiles looking like grimaces as I stood around in various outfits feeling silly. The twins had come down to watch, and, to my surprise, were directing most of my posing. I had banned Tamaki from coming, that would have been too embarrassed. I didn't really understand why I had been asked to do this anyway. I wasn't the prettiest girl at Ouran anyway. I suspected they wanted my name. Our business would benefit if the line did well and my face promoted them, but theirs would do well if our associates came to believe we got all our clothes from their company. In truth, all my formal evening dress had been made for me by the twin's mother and her team, so I suppose we did. I had another occasion coming up soon, and she had promised that my gown this time would be complimentary, plus I would be given roughly half the outfits I wore to the shoot, and I was even offered money which I had declined. I didn't need it, and to accept it would have looked bad.

It was, the twins assured me, only to be a short shoot; just pictures of the various ranges for the next catalogue. I'd asked them to avoid any posters or billboards and they had promised, but so shiftily I did not hold out much hope. I could only imagine how Tamaki would behave if he saw me on a billboard. I prayed it would never happen and tried to remember why I had agreed to it, and around that time, Tamaki had shown up.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, noticing him sitting with the twins, looking enchanted though at that point I was only wearing a skirt/sweater combination very similar to those I wore outside of school anyway.

"So cold..." He whined, by way of reply. Suffice to say, that didn't really answer my question.

"He's here to help!" Kaoru told me, sensing my irritation.

"Yeah, we asked him to model too." Hikaru added.

"Why?" I asked, maintaining my usual poker face.

"His and Her range!" They chorused.

"Mom wanted the dynamic of a real couple." Kaoru said, shrugging.

"That's why we asked you two. You're always all lovey-dovey, right?" Hikaru mimicked his brother's shrug.

Ah, so this was why I- we- had been chosen. Because our relationship looked good on camera.

I remember, even now, that somehow the comment had hurt. Perhaps it was what really triggered my following reactions. More likely, however, it was the water that had been heating up for weeks was finally boiling over. Ever since Haruhi had came to the Host Club, and I saw how Tamaki came to watch her more than me, was more... himself then he ever was with me. I had watched how Tamaki had brought together such a group of individuals, including myself, helped us all in some way or another, and now Haruhi seemed to be doing the same. And she was doing it for Tamaki in a way I knew I never could. I had money and status and the approval of his family. I knew, if in some parallel world he was with her instead, she would have none of those things. And he wouldn't care.

I also knew Haruhi well enough. She was not at Ouran to make rich and powerful friends, and nor would she use Tamaki to those ends. She was at Ouran to achieve her ambition, to make something of herself. I admired that, but it made me ashamed.

Admiration and aspiration and to be ashamed. I was a confused swirl of emotion at that time, made all the worse by the conversation overheard and the dream of the night before. I remembered what I had said to Fuyumi all those years ago, that it would make sense if I loved him. I was trying to love him. Perhaps I did. Is that what made it so hard to realise it was little more than a facade?

I doubted Tamaki thought so. No doubt he thought he was irrevocably in love with me. We were young and foolish and we didn't even know what love was, lest of all me. Perhaps I was entirely wrong.

Love was not something I had devoted a great deal of thought to until Haruhi had arrived. Marriage and relationships of any sort were all to do with business, love and care and genuine affection would be pleasant bonuses for the lucky few. Tamaki, with his opinion on love making the world go round had gradually eroded mine. Still, I hadn't thought about it too much. Until Haruhi.

And now Hikaru, making some casual comment that I somehow came to be analysing to death. I didn't have room in my brain to think about this right now. It was still too occupied with the dream, and my brother, and my father's part in his death. So I pushed the thoughts away and posed, with Tamaki, next to him, in his arms, and all the rest. Nothing to worry about. Until the final demand. We were dressed in formal evening wear, on top of a set piece designed to look like stone steps up to a posh building. For the other shots, it had been simple, his arm at my waist or my holding his elbow.

"Could you kiss her?" The photographer asked. "It'd be a nice one to finish."

"Ah, yes." Tamaki said, nodding. He turned to me, drew me closer. I was going to go along with it. But it only seemed to reinforce what I had thought earlier. And the idea of everyone seeing us kissing in a photograph... it was so cheap.

I was not cheap. I pushed him away. Tamaki looked at me questioningly.

"No, we're done." I said, firmly. "That's enough." I turned and began to balance my way down the steps. At least I was experienced in heels.

"Aww, Kotoko-senpai..." the twins whined. "One more wouldn't hurt."

"Yes," I said, glaring. "It would." They flinched away from my anger. I walked briskly, knowing without any sight or sound needed to confirm it, that Tamaki would be following me. I locked myself in the small changing cubicle, located my own clothes, and changed back into them. I was beginning to wonder if I had overreacted somehow. I didn't think so. I had been as cold and as unemotional as I needed to be. But I had to be firm. Just imagining what would have happened if my father's associates had seen pictures of us kissing made my insides squirm. It would give out totally the opposite impression of the one we intended to.

It occurred to me then that I really was using this situation, using him by extension, and some deep place within me was disgusted. I was just glad I had drawn the line somewhere. But even that had been for no reason deeper than saving my own skin.

This had to stop. I knew it. The dream had confirmed something, somehow.

If my brother really had died for me to live, it shouldn't have been for a life like this. What had it been reduced to, really? At first I had clung to Tamaki because he was a friend, more than a friend, and he had made me feel, somehow, with his idolised view of the world and of me that perhaps I could be something better than I was. But everyday I was with him, and everyday I saw him with Haruhi, I was more jealous, and more calculating of how to keep hold of him. But why should I, when our relationship was so clearly for show?

But he didn't have to remind me by trying to ham it up for the camera. I opened the cubicle door, deliberately not looking to either side, knowing Tamaki would be waiting anxiously for me. I hadn't managed to take a second step before his had was tentatively on my arm.

"Kotoko..." He said, slowly. He switched to French, as he frequently did when we were having a conversation he considered more intimate. Literature, or more specifically plays, had always been my passion; but access to them had been tempered by language. Like most educated children, I was expected to be proficient in at least English; but I had gone further. I had Russian and Latin more-or-less managed, and since being with Tamaki had brushed up considerably on my French. It was useful, when he was trying to be romantic. Today it would be useful whilst we argued. "Kotoko, my love. What's the matter?"

"You wanted me to kiss you for the camera."

"I didn't think you'd mind... I'm afraid I don't understand. Unless..." He seemed almost as upset as I was. "You're ashamed of our love?"

"The problem here is that you have no shame!" I immediately flared up. "When did 'our love' become a show?!"

"What?"

"A show, Tamaki, to be judged and applauded according to the realism of the performance!" I spat the words at him, switching back to Japanese so I could talk faster, stop him interrupting. "Even this thing with speaking French! Is it supposed to be ours? It is spoken by people around the world! Or didn't you notice, when you lived in a country full of it?"

"Sweetheart..." He tried to sooth me, looking troubled now. "What is the matter? What's all this about, hmm?"

His calmness irked me, and I just wanted to shout more. Yet the Ootori training was reasserting itself, the mask was sliding back on. I forced myself to lower my voice, though I did not yet have enough self-control to stop myself injecting venom into every syllable I could. "Tamaki, don't you ever think our relationship, this whole thing, is rather orchestrated?"

"What? I don't understand. Darling, I think-"

"That's exactly it." I interrupted him, back in control of myself fully now. "Don't you see it? Take all these pet names. Are they for me? I never asked for them. Or are they so people will hear you say them and talk amongst themselves about what a perfect couple we are? And all these other things. The kissing, and being chosen because we were a couple, the way we speak and behave, the way you... the way you are with me. Don't you ever think it's almost... a sham?"

"What?!" He shouted, immediately pulling me close. "Oh no! Oh, don't say that! Don't ever say that! Don't you dare even think that!"

"But..." I struggled, and pulled away. "It's true, isn't it? It's all so planned, so structured, so

constructed. When it comes down to it, would you have chosen me?"

Tamaki was silent for a long time. I thought he was finally thinking about it. Maybe he would finally realise, get over whatever twisted sense of duty he felt towards me. Maybe this was it between us. Maybe he would realise how selfish my reasons for being with him were. Reasons that began as business, reasons now that even I couldn't identify. He made me feel better about myself, perhaps. But he made me feel worse, too. I didn't know what to do. I needed him, but... he would be better off without me? No, not as such. I wasn't that depressed just yet, not at that time. More that he was too good for me, I suppose. A sun that illuminated me just enough to show the dirt.

Still. My heart wrenched at the idea of losing him. It took all my self control not to hold him tight.

"...This is about the Host Club, isn't it?" He asked, softly. "Well, don't you worry! I'll quit, okay?! I'll never take another customer! I'll-!"

"What?!" I demanded. "You love the Host Club, don't be stupid."

"It was never my intention to hurt you." He whispered tenderly, switching back to his mother tongue and putting his hand to my cheek. "I'll leave, alright? I'm sorry..."

"That's not what this is about." I told him. "This is about you wanting to cheapen our relationship by-"

"Ssh."He answered. "It's okay. I won't give you any more reason to doubt, okay? I'll stop taking customers. But... it was all acting, you know that, don't you? There's only you."

That tore it. I pushed him away.

"That's not what this is about! I don't care about the Host Club girls! Goodness knows you only treat them the same way you treat me!"

"W-what? Then-"

"Tamaki, you're in love with H- someone else!" I said, frustrated.

That seemed to floor him. He mouthed wordlessly at me, not able to even stammer an answer. To him, it had come completely from nowhere.

"T-that's stupid!" He stammered eventually. "Is that what's really bothering you? Kotoko, darling, I don't like anyone else! I like you!"

"No," I sighed. "You don't. You love someone else; or if you don't, you will someday." With that, I turned to walk away. He caught my arm.

"Sweetheart, wait, I-!"

"Tamaki." I said, pulling my arm away. "Just leave it, okay? I'm tired of this... facade of a relationship."

"No!" He shouted. "Koto, I love you! You only said someday! Okay? I promise that day won't ever come! I promise! Please, I promise."

"You... can't promise that." I relented. "You won't... you won't be able to keep to it."

"Yes, I will." He said, firmly, putting his hand to my face. He pulled me closer, intending to kiss me, but that just reminded me of what had triggered all this to begin with. I slapped him away in annoyance.

"Arrgh," I complained. "You just don't get it, Tamaki."

This time, I really did walk away.

"Kotoko, at least let me take you home! You know there are thugs out on the street!"

I didn't so much as turn to look back. I wish I had. But I didn't. Because I knew if I allowed myself to see the expression that must have been on his face just then, it would have been burned in my memory forever.

I still remember, even now, when so much more of consequence has happened, when I have lost so much more and been through so much more, how the air felt when I stepped out that day. It was cold, but not so cold. I would soon get warm, walking. Besides, there was a lot of cloud cover, the underbellies turned orange by the street lamps. The air would be close, too. It would be warm; which was good, because I was feeling rather cold inside. I felt chilled at the uncertainty of my future. Tamaki and I had not had anything beyond a petty squabble before. I began to wonder if I had gone too far. If Tamaki broke up with me, what would my father say? Would the family stop dealing with us? Tamaki's father liked me, but if I hurt his beloved son... then again, his grandmother was the one who really ran the company and she hated Tamaki. She'd probably want to give me a medal.

Life would have been so much better all round if it had been my brother who had lived. He wouldn't be in this mess of a situation. However, life was not made on what ifs, lessons could not be learnt from them; I was here and my brother was not, even if the dream would have me believe it should have been the other way around. Determined, I quickened my pace, thinking that if I did not move quickly Tamaki would pull the car up next to me and insist I had a lift. I didn't want to be anywhere near him. He confused me.

The men watching me took the increase in my pace as a sign that I had noticed them. And I should have noticed them. To this day I couldn't say how I didn't. Yet, for whatever reason, the first I knew of them was the hand across my mouth and my back being pressed against the fence of the building we had been conducting the photo shoot in. If I screamed, surely someone would hear me?

But I couldn't. I couldn't think as far as screaming. Tamaki's words came back to me: "There are thugs out of the street".

I just hoped they only intended to rob me. I could feel someone checking through my pockets. Two men, one on either side, and the man in front, holding onto me. His face was in shadow, the orange light glancing over the top of his head. I wondered what expression his face carried at this moment.

Then I wondered why on earth I was thinking about such a thing and consented instead to struggling. I pushed and kicked and bit, but it didn't seem to make any difference. He strained slightly to hold me back, the others had to assist to stop me getting a limb free, but that was all.

"Just leave it!" One said. "She's not carrying anything."

"No," the big one, the one holding me, said. I could hear the sneer in his voice. His words seemed to come slowly. "I think this filly needs breaking in. I have just the stallion to do it."

That was the moment when fear uncurled in my stomach. In an instant it was thrashing desperately about, clawing and wrenching, trying to get out. I wanted to be sick. I fought harder. At least, if I struggled, he would have a hard time holding me and undoing his zip-

He fell away, as if dragged by a storm fuelled tide. In actuality, it was Tamaki's hand on his collar. In an instant Tamaki had him pinned to the fence, did not wait for the usual banter, just punched him twice in the stomach, kneed him in the groin, and left him on the floor. He grabbed my arm in a vice-like grip, marched straight past the other two guys, shoved me in the car and slammed the door. The whole interlude must have been less than five seconds.

I watched Tamaki as the car sped away. He looked straight ahead, eyes boring into the board that separated us from the driver. His fists clenched open and shut, he hardly blinked. I wondered what I should do. I went to touch his hand, but I remembered I was still mad. It was easier than thinking about what had almost happened.

"...Are you hurt?" He asked, eventually.

I shook my head. He stared at me for a long moment, trying to ascertain if I was telling the truth. Apparently satisfied, he turned back to face the front and did not say another word. Time passed, and we pulled up outside my house. Safe. Tamaki got out of the car, came round and opened the door for me, and accompanied me up to the front door. I wondered how long I had before I was lectured half to death. We were shown in and he quietly requested that we could see my father. I wondered what he was up to, but I didn't dare ask. I just stood next to him, not too close, and waited. I couldn't even think. Perhaps I was in shock. Whatever it was, at least it stopped me arguing.

My father received us despite the fact it really was getting late. Apparently I had been standing around like an idiot posing for photos for longer than I had imagined. I knelt next to Tamaki, and kept my eyes on the floor. He had arranged this meeting, he could deal with it.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Tamaki-kun?" He asked, sounding mildly displeased.

"Kotoko..." he began, sounding upset. "Kotoko was attacked tonight. I got there before they could... could... see their plans through, but... they...!"

There was a long silence.

"I see." My father said, eventually, his voice level. "And weren't you supposed to be looking after her?"

My head snapped up at that. Surely he wasn't trying to pin this on Tamaki?

"I..." Tamaki stammered, then suddenly bowed. "I'm very sorry, sir. When I think what might have happened-!"

"It's not his fault!" I interrupted. I realised it was the first thing I'd said since it had happened. "I am not his responsibility! I went off on my own, he tried to warn me-!"

"That's as may be." My father stopped me simply by raising his hand. "But it's happened, and you're alright, so might I suggest we all get some sleep? I'm sure they are worried about you at home, Tamaki-kun."

"I would rather stay." Tamaki insisted. This obviously was important to him, if he would stand up to that tone from my father. "I... want to make sure Kotoko is alright."

"Hmmph." was the only response. Tamaki decided to take that as a blessing, and grabbing hold of my hand, lead me from the room. He didn't look at me, but he didn't let go either, slamming into my bedroom. We left the door open, as per the house rules when I had male company. After the day's events, I finally understood why.

"Tamaki-" I started.

"Go and get changed." He replied, flatly.

"With you standing right there and the door open?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.

"No, in the bathroom." He said, voice verging on annoyance. I stood my ground.

"No. Not while you're still here." I said. "Just go home!"

"No!" He said, just as firmly.

"What exactly are you waiting for?" I said, in frustration. "I'm grateful, okay? So if it's just thanks you wanted, you can leave!"

He didn't deserve that. We both knew it. He looked at me for a long moment, and I couldn't hold his gaze.

I wish I had never had that dream. Perhaps then my mask would never have slipped.

"I... just wanted to make sure you were able to sleep." He said, quietly. "I'll go."

He left, pulling the door shut behind him. I went and got ready for bed, trying not to think about the day's events. But in the dark, and the quiet, with no company other than my thoughts, they came unbidden.

You shouldn't be here...

That dream. My brother.

You shouldn't be here...

Had my father allowed him to die? Surely not. Surely I had wasted enough time thinking about it today.

He died so you could be here...

I had been so preoccupied, I had been cold to Tamaki. He didn't deserve it.

You shouldn't be here...

Did I want him to realise he wasn't in love with me? I was too much a coward for that. Without Tamaki, my future would be cast back into doubt. But was that better, or worse?

I didn't know any more.

Is this why he died...?

I liked Tamaki, didn't I? Hadn't I made myself love him? So why I had I gone off at him like that?

Did he die so you could be here...?

He had deserved it. I was so tired of being nothing but a pretty face, with no duty other than looking pretty. I didn't have to try in school because I would probably never work a day in my life. That was my responsibility, my lot in life. I had to fulfil it. But didn't he know it would hurt to have our relationship shown off like some kind of medal? If lots of people saw it in a catalogue, would it make it more real for Tamaki?

He died so you could be here...!

How long was it until he realised I wasn't what he wanted?

More to the point, was this what I wanted?

In the darkness, I couldn't answer. These thoughts swirled through my mind, blowing through it like the winds of a storm. Tamaki, and Haruhi, and the future, and my brother, and my father, and those awful men, the look in his eye, the fact I couldn't push him off...

You had to use what you had. I had always managed to charm and flatter and barter any situation until it suited my own purposes. But not today.

Tonight, for the first time, I felt powerless. I didn't like it very much. Tamaki had been right. I didn't get much sleep that night. I cried instead, for the first time in years, in fear and shock and despair. And when I did at last shut my eyes, I dreamt of my brother.

I saw him so clearly that night, in a room lit only by flashes of lightning. One blasted into all the corners of the room, over pale skin. He was shirtless, hanging over the bed. There was a girl there, below him, looking up without fear. I realised with a jolt it was Haruhi.

Did everyone have to like her more than me?

Maybe that was why, I thought. I took my brother from her, so now she's taking Tamaki instead. Is that what went wrong?

But no, it wasn't, it wasn't like that. There was another voice present inside my head. I knew it. I could feel it as he suppressed the thoughts, tried not to think about what he was doing, hoping she wouldn't call his bluff.

She knows what I'm doing. Will this girl never learn her lesson?

There was a feeling of disappointment, too. That she didn't take him seriously. That she didn't think he was capable of loving. There was a thought he would not allow himself to think, was he so cold he could not love if he wanted to?

I was hearing his thoughts, feeling what he was feeling. This was certainly interesting. Bizarrely, it didn't feel as unnatural as it should have done. If I could see another world in my dreams, why shouldn't I hear his thoughts?

Surely it was just a dream, a life conjured up for a wisp on the breeze, grown from my feelings of guilt. Perhaps in some parallel world he had survived, but that was a world forever cut off from me; and I doubted such a thing existed. We are bound by the past, we can only change the future. My brother had died as a baby. These images were nothing but illusions.

"He is real!"

There came the shouting, angry voice; the lightning flashed and the room disappeared. Standing before me now was just the darkened, cowed figure of the phantom. "He is real." He said, his voice softer and silkier. I flinched at the tone, it was too much like my father's cold rage. "He is real, or he should have been. He should have lived and breathed and felt and learnt and made mistakes and missed chances and grabbed this life with his two hands. But he didn't."

I wanted to run. I didn't want to hear this. But my legs, if I had them, were rooted to the spot.

"You did." The phantom whispered. "You see each new day, you breathe!"

"And... feel, and learn and..." I prompted, feeling dread dragging me down like a lead weight. "And live."

A short, sharp laugh was his only reply.

I woke up to a grey dawn. The light grew brighter. My prospects did not.

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A/N: And so, the end of the chapter. Poor Kotoko, her decent into madness begins here! Disclaimers still stand. Really, she should be into Beckett instead of Shakespeare, right?

On a note of random trivia, the scene where Tamaki says "At least let me take you home" reminds me of the bit in Legally Blonde. I don't think Kotoko would be persuaded by shoes, though.

Next chapter, Tamaki tries to make it up to Kotoko; but will he manage it or is it over? Kotoko has bigger things to worry about anyway as she asks her mom about what exactly happened to her brother…