The Frisbee and the volleyball were sitting on the table beside the door. They kept company with two pairs of sunglasses, with sandals on the floor beneath. And on the bed lay one nearly naked redhead moaning softly while his brother applied sunscreen with firm hand motions that were likely more arousing than they needed to be.
"Hika...you damn tease..." Kaoru said breathlessly.
"You whine a lot, you know," the elder mused jokingly, stroking his hands down his brother's spine. "It's just lotion."
"Yeah, but we haven't really had time for ourselves lately." Hikaru had to agree. It was a horrid shame.
"Tonight, Kao, I swear. I still owe you for that amazing blow job – remember, I promised, but you were asleep before I got back from Mom's studio conference call that night."
"Oh, yeah, I remember. And by the time I woke up in the morning you were already up and gone."
"See? I completely need to make that up to you – so since we're going to be alone tonight..." Hikaru let his sentence trail off suggestively as he finished applying the sunblock. Leaning forward, he kissed the nape of his brother's neck and wordlessly handed the tube over, taking Kaoru's place on the bed and relaxing as his twin returned the favor.
She had tried to read but she found herself unable to concentrate. Despite her intentions and her best efforts, her mind had decided it was apparently a good day for a trip down memory lane. After trying unsuccessfully to distract herself multiple times she just gave up, flung herself on her back on the sand and watched the fluffy clouds drift much like her thoughts were.
For as long as she could remember she wanted to be a lawyer like her mom. When she was little she would see Kotoko dressed in her business suits and think she looked beautiful, strong. She wanted to grow up and be just like her. When most little girls wanted to play house or tea party, Haruhi wanted to play court. Her parents would oblige her with fond smiles. Her mother played the part of the judge and her father made – to young Haru's mind – a perfect bad guy. He'd muss up his hair and speak with a coarse accent, swearing he was innocent of whatever charges Haruhi had brought against him, the favorite being chicken thievery. Or sometimes he'd dress sleek and sly in a suit and tie and swear he'd never 'embizzled' money from his company. On occasion Carrie would be over for dinner and all three adults would indulge her with a game. The villain was sometimes Ranka, sometimes Carrie, but her mother was always the judge and little Haru got to act out her fondest wishes of fighting the good fight like her mommy did.
She remembered other things as well. She remembered the way her parents would snuggle together on the couch, her mom leaning against her dad's side, her head resting on his shoulder. They'd been so close, so much in love – she could recall how desperately her father had tried to hold himself together when she died. Haruhi knew that if it hadn't been for the fact that he had a small daughter to watch out for, Kotoko's death would have completely destroyed him. As it was he'd devoted his every moment to making certain his little girl was cared for and provided for and as happy as he could help her to be.
The rich bastards she called friends might tease her about being a commoner, but to her mind there was nothing common about her situation. She may not be wealthy, with servants and expectations to live up to, but that didn't mean anything. Her own self-expectations were far more strict and lofty than anything other people could impose. She wanted to be a lawyer, to follow in her mother's footsteps – and she wanted to learn to love as deeply as her father did. The first goal could – would – be achieved through hard work and perseverance. The second? She wasn't quite sure how one could learn that type of devotion.
A succession of images flooded her mind. Hikaru and Kaoru, settling her between them in their usual double embrace, including her in their oh-so-exclusive world without hesitation. Kyoya, his glasses gleaming as he typed away at his laptop, looking up briefly to speak to her, his obsidian eyes intelligent and deep. Honey sitting at a table, motioning her over while he inhaled a cake, saving the last cream-covered strawberry to offer to her, his smile warm and welcoming. Mori, plucking her effortlessly from the exuberance of a game of Tug-of-Haruhi between the twins and the King, hands sure and steady as he rescued her yet again, an almost-there smile on his strong features. And Tamaki – always Tamaki – playing the part of the dashing prince so flawlessly only to break out in childish glee at the strangest things, usually pulling her along with him. In her apparent need for self-torture she tried to imagine any one of them gone, lost to her forever like her mother was, and she was startled by a low, keening sound of pure anguish. It took her a moment to realize it had come from her own throat, as were the heart-wrenching sobs that followed. She curled on her side, drawing her knees to her chest as she cried.
Maybe she didn't have to learn how to love that deeply after all. Maybe she already knew.
"Who taught you how to throw?" Hikaru's voice rang out amused and challenging as he darted into the water to retrieve the plastic disc from where it had landed in the surf yards from where it had been aimed.
"Your mother!" his twin called out just as snarkily, receiving a rude hand gesture in return before Hikaru sent the Frisbee sailing back to the group. A spectacular dive from the Host King resulted in the successful capture of the round toy – unfortunately, a rather un-spectacular landing sent a spray of sand into the air as the blond tried to regain his balance. Kyoya glanced up as the sand dusted over him, the look in his eyes as he brushed off himself and his notebook promising dire retribution for the Host King – a silent expression that made the violet-eyed boy gulp theatrically and shiver in genuine anticipation. With a laugh he pulled back and flung the Frisbee across the beach. Honey managed to snag it next, leaping high into the air in a move that, had Haruhi seen it, would have reminded her of the fight she'd witnessed between the boy Lolita and his brother Yasuchika. A quick snap of his wrist had it flying again, landing in Mori's outstretched hand before being sent in a high arc back to the rambunctious twins. Laughter and jeers and shouted accolades echoed in the steadily warming air, the group of boys deliberately forgetting their responsibilities and troubles, if only for a short time.
Tamaki and Hikaru became engaged in a Frisbee battle, Kaoru egging them on, so Honey took the opportunity to speak to Kyoya. Walking over on the pretense of getting a bottle of water he spoke quietly.
"Hey, Kyo-chan?"
"Mmm?" the dark-eyed boy murmured questioningly as he scribbled numbers in his notebook.
"I need to talk to you." The brunette nodded.
"So talk."
"Not...not now." The hesitance in the senior's voice prompted Kyoya to look up.
"Okay..." he drawled. Honey, taking a drink, swallowed and spoke, eyes looking over the ocean as he did.
"It concerns Haruhi." The youngest Ootori snapped to attention. "But the others aren't to know, so I need to talk to you alone." Kyoya thought for a moment before responding.
"Tonight. Tamaki wanted to speak with and apologize to the Hitachiins. I'll suggest he go pay them a visit after sundown. I trust that will work?" Honey nodded, draining the water bottle just as the Frisbee fight ended – a draw, apparently. The oldest host glanced down at Kyoya.
"That's fine. Thank you." He jogged off down the beach, all smiles and eagerness once more, but the Shadow King had seen the facade crack. Whatever Honey wanted, it was serious. Refusing to acknowledge the worry that was beginning to tickle his stomach Kyoya turned his attention back to his figures.
The phone rang twice before the accented voice answered with a cheery 'hello?'
"Hey, Carrie."
"Ryoji, you snot! How's my favorite cross-dresser?"
"You have more than one?" the okama asked, tone dripping with fake hurt. The laugh on the other end was merry.
"Nope. You're the only one. Guess that makes you my least favorite, too."
"Oh, how cruel you are!" he gasped theatrically, switching the phone to his other hear and settling back into the couch cushions.
"So, gorgeous, what brings you to this end of the phone line?"
"You'll flirt with anyone, won't you Carrie?" he asked with a chuckle.
"Only if they're hot," she replied unrepentantly. He could hear the humor in her tone and it both relaxed and saddened him, especially considering the reason for his call. Sighing, he decided it would be easier to discuss in person.
"Actually, Carrie, I was wondering if you were busy today."
"Nope. Day off."
"Well, would you care to come over for lunch?"
"Sounds good," she agreed immediately. "What time?" He looked at a clock.
"It's almost eleven now, so how does twelve-thirty sound?"
"Sounds great. I'll bring the beer." He laughed then, really laughed.
"Perfect," he said once he had his breath back. "So, see you in a while?"
"Sure thing, gorgeous." They disconnected the call and he stood, heading to the kitchen to figure out what to make for lunch. On his way he glanced at the two piles of documents on the table. With a sigh he ruffled through them one more time before deliberately setting them back down.