Chapter 12
He always recognized her by the sound of her heels – she had a light lilt to her steps, almost as if trying to scurry away. Kyouya thought he had arrived early only to have her show up minutes after him with the heels that clacked against the hardwood floor. The black blazer sat atop her shoulders like a cape with high waisted pants that made her look like she had come straight out of a business meeting. The skin-tight v-neck shirt had been tucked neatly to finish off the sleek look. Perhaps she had dressed to do business with him instead.
"You're early," Kiyoko raised an eyebrow at him. No more of a greeting as she swiftly sat in the seat across from him with grace.
"As are you," he noted the tight French braid that she had sported with the outfit. He hadn't seen her hair like that. Kyouya couldn't decide what to look at – from her hair to her dark red lips to her pointed stilettos. She made a French braid look like the most elegant thing on the planet.
"Did you manage to get some sleep?" he asked casually, perching up his glasses.
Kiyoko gave a small nod and reached for the glass of water that had been poured for her. It was hardly enough sleep but it was indeed, some sleep. Kyouya eyed the twinge of lipstick that stained the glass.
"Did you?" she asked politely, taking note of how he looked at her cup of water.
"Yes," he answered her, prying his eyes away from her almond shaped nails. He took note of the minimal jewelry she wore today – no rings, no bracelets. Just studded earrings and a silver chain around her neck. She let him observe her quietly, as if waiting for him to play his cards first.
When he didn't respond, she gave a lopsided smile and took another sip from her glass. "What?" she asked innocently.
"Nothing," Kyouya brushed off.
"Jealous of my glass of water?" she teased. She bit down on her bottom lip in amusement, as if demonstrating the hold of her lipstick against anything that touched her lips.
"And what were you up to all day?" he changed the topic swiftly, pretending not to see the way she parted her lips at him in curiosity.
"None of your business," Kiyoko answered expectantly. There was no need for him to know what she spent the day doing. She leaned against the chair comfortably and waited for the server to come around with the food that she assumed was from a fixed menu.
"What were you up to?" Kiyoko asked the same question to him. "Wait – let me guess: you were working." She rolled her eyes.
Kyouya huffed. "Yes, I was." He didn't mention that he hadn't gotten much work done having been looking forward the dinner for the latter half of the day. He couldn't help it.
"You need hobbies," Kiyoko commented with the signature snark in her words.
"And you need friends," Kyouya shot back matching her tone.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I have friends," Kiyoko argued.
"Name one," the Ootori challenged.
"They're none that you would know," the woman was nonchalant about it. "But if you must know, I do have a circle of friends from my undergraduate years."
"At Oxford," Kyouya finished off for her.
Kiyoko blinked. How did he know? That wasn't a fact that she had mentioned to him. "Did my grandmother tell you that?"
"Yes," he lied. She let a beat of silence pass as she looked him in the eye before rolling her eyes and shaking her head at the way made it too easy for her to tell. He had the slight furrow in the brow, the immediate look of defensiveness that only confirmed her inkling of a thought.
"You should know better than to lie to me, Kyouya," Kiyoko was quick to catch him in the act. She did not mince her words either, her sharp tone cut through the murmurs of the background. She spoke his name like it were venom on her lips.
"Is it not common knowledge?" Kyouya brushed it off with a sip of his own water, not fearing the way she spoke to him. Maybe he should have ordered wine, he thought to himself. He kept his cool about the matter, not willing to admit the truth just yet.
"My grandmother has no idea what I have studied or where I studied," Kiyoko told him. "I am only summoned when useful."
"And when might that be?"
"In recent months," Kiyoko answered deftly. "So you have a degree from what? Harvard? How was it studying in America?" She shifted the attention to him, deflecting his questions.
"Exactly what you would expect," he muttered. It had been years since he had finished his studies. It felt like eons ago. "Boston was stupidly cold."
"The cold keeps you humble," she murmured. "But I guess it didn't work on you."
Kyouya shot her an annoyed look. She only shrugged with a smirk, inviting him to counter her observation. Was he regretting asking her to dinner? He must have expected these jabs at him, having been used to the way that they spoke over the handful of times they had met. Maybe he enjoyed it – even beneath that irritated glare. It seemed to keep him on his toes.
"What else do you know about me, hm?" she tried again, curious to hear what he had established about her.
"You're good at math," Kyouya answered.
"Am I?" Kiyoko raised an eyebrow. "Anyone can be good at math," she shrugged. The Ootori was probably good at it, given how much he loved calculating profits.
"Not everyone wants a degree in it," the Ootori pointed out.
Kiyoko nodded in confirmation. He knew enough that the rest of the world didn't bother to care to look for. All still public information and not enough to really delve into who she really was. He noted the way she nodded at him – was she actually impressed for once?
"You're a writer," Kyouya continued – testing the waters with the one factoid that hadn't been able to confirm from the bartender he spoke to about her.
"Am I?" Kiyoko tilted her head at the statement. He wasn't supposed to know that.
"You know better than to lie to me," the Ootori used her words against her. He wasn't sure of the fact himself – he was curious to see what he would receive. He seemed to have hit a nerve with the way she answered with surprise on her lips.
"I wasn't lying," Kiyoko smoothly evaded. "I studied writing, yes. I don't write for a living," she responded. It wasn't exactly a lie. She didn't write for a living, not for most of it anyway.
"And being an art curator was what you always wanted to be?" Kyouya raised his eyebrows at her.
"No," she sighed. "No, it wasn't," Kiyoko quietly admitted. She wasn't sure if she was meant to be embarrassed at the fact. But did it matter? She didn't have anything to prove to him.
"What would you have wanted to be instead?" It was a natural question to succeed the previous one.
She stared at the food in front of her, making the first move to eat as a means of avoiding the question. He followed in suit, letting her ponder the question and giving her the space to come to terms with answering it at her own pace. He watched the way she looked down at her utensils, the way she sat up with such poise with every bite, how she hardly made any noise as she ate with grace. Kiyoko was truly someone raised with class and eloquence; it was unfortunate to have her be clouded with the reputation that her family had.
"I would have liked to write," Kiyoko softly told him. She would have liked to write more but nowadays she could hardly keep up with anything beyond the gallery and visiting Haru as often as she could. "Except writing doesn't pay the bills as much as getting rich people to buy pieces of art."
"You can't do both?" he offered. "Gambling also pays," Kyouya pointed out.
"It wasn't sustainable," she shrugged. "You have to cut your losses while you're still ahead."
"Fair," he respected that.
She expected him to continue on prying about her days of being a gambler but he didn't. Instead, he continued eating and let the comfortable silence blanket over them between each course. She stared at him in curiosity, noting the way that his suit jacket had fit him like a glove, squaring off his shoulders. His jawline was one cut out from the description of the chiseled gods with a smile that was enough to make any woman to think twice about brushing him off.
He looked at her in the same way, observing the features of her face that had been painted with the mask she had worn towards the public. Kiyoko was never one to go over the top – not with any glitter or the doll eyes. She wore enough to command a room. She painted power on her lips, lined her eyes like they were weapons. They were able to get through another course before Kiyoko made the move to speak.
"Have you given thought to what you want?" It was her turn to ask a question. It was the same one that she asked the night prior.
"You know what I want," he shrugged.
"That's all you want?" Kiyoko raised an eyebrow. "You're simpler than I thought."
He narrowed his eyes at the statement. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Kiyoko smiled in amusement and shrugged. "It wasn't made to be offensive," she tried to mollify the daggers of his glare thrown against her across the table. "I just thought you would have aspired to have more than just… money."
"It's not just money," Kyouya asserted. "It's about… helping people." God, why did he make it sound so stupid coming out of his mouth? "I want the power to do so," he tried again. But the intended effect was already lost in the sea of him floundering to try to seem intimidating.
She tilted her head at him and nodded in understanding, her voice softened at the realization. "You really are a nice guy, huh?" Her dark lips contorted into a small smile, her eyes twinkled in delight at him.
"How does that make me nice?" he narrowed his eyes, not liking the description or the way that she looked at him with such… kindness? What was that look on her face? Something within him unknotted while his heart skipped a beat. His body felt like it was being jerked back and forth at the way she looked at him.
Her smile grew. "I never said it was a bad thing," she soothed. "I think it's—"
"Naïve," he snarled, readying himself for the bombardment of mockery from her. He should have thought better of his answer.
"No, I think it's noble," Kiyoko interjected. It was always hard to read her but she spoke to him with such firmness in her voice, believing in him with such force that Kyouya could not help but to think she was genuine in her statement. It made him feel validated – a feeling he never thought he needed. Especially from a stranger like her.
She looked back down at her plate of food, embarrassed that she had said it with such conviction. Kiyoko let the fluttering of her chest settle – why was he such a good person? It would have been easier on her conscience to know that he was just a money-grubbing jerk – where after getting all the clout he could possibly attain, he would be bored and look towards whatever else he could attain: cars, real estate, or other women. Just like every other man. Maybe he wasn't like every other man.
"Tell me," he cut through her thoughts. Kiyoko looked up from the table, her eyes meeting the Ootori's. She was nearly taken back by how intently he stared at her, how curious he was in the way that he wanted to know. Everything and anything. All the secrets she kept. All the stories she could offer. All the burdens she carried. He wanted to know. To understand. To even help, maybe.
"You already know enough about me," Kiyoko told him as she resisted the stare. She took a bite of the confit with ease as she looked away from him. He stared at the dark hollows of the sockets, quietly observing how she sunk back into the same depth of darkness that matched the shadows of her eyelids. Kyouya felt like he had lost her right after he had pulled her back.
"Tell me," he tried again. "What do you want? You clearly aren't after money."
"Of course I am," she snickered. "Did you think Versace was cheap?"
"You clearly have enough money," Kyouya pointed out.
I really don't, she wanted to say. Expensive things were needed to fit into the crowds of the rich and elite – to be taken seriously as someone who belonged in this bubble. But beyond the materialistic things she could afford, Kiyoko had bills to pay for her brother. 24/7 care was not easy to provide, not at the luxury that her brother was able to live. He wasn't psychotic; he was autistic. He was able to function on his own but there was always an added reassurance of having caretakers keep an eye on him in case he had a bad day.
"There's always room for more," she smoothly answered back.
"You're doing well for yourself," the Ootori observed. "So what else could you possibly need?"
Kiyoko mulled over the thought. "To uphold the family honour," she decided.
Kyouya scoffed. "You don't care about that."
She grinned like she had been caught. Kiyoko scrunched her nose up in a playful manner, squinting at how she knew she couldn't possibly weasel her way out of this one – the Ootori knew she cared little for it by the way she relished in the reputation of being psychotic. He relaxed visibly, seeing how she too, seemed to let her guard down. He somehow liked that look on her better than the usual scowl she wore.
"I do," Kiyoko couldn't even try to lie. "The burden of the Hibayashi reputation falls upon my shoulders," she mocked her grandmother.
"You know it's a zero-sum game," Kyouya rolled his eyes at her. He decided that he most certainly liked her better when she was cheerful.
"Yes but," Kiyoko sighed. "My grandmother thinks otherwise."
"And you're letting her think so?"
"It gets her off my back," Kiyoko shrugged. It was a waste of time to fight against it all. "I don't expect anyone to actually marry me," she explained. "You, included."
"So why did you agree to dinner?" he mused.
"Why did you ask me to dinner?" Kiyoko shot back.
"I need to figure out how to make this relationship mutually beneficial."
She laughed at the thought. "You lose more than what you can gain from this. Isn't that what I've been telling you the whole time?"
"Isn't that what is best for you?" He didn't understand why she would work against all of this. "I'm trying to understand your intentions."
She stared at him in awe. Kyouya couldn't quite pinpoint the look on her face – was it of confusion? She narrowed her eyes at first as if looking at him in suspicion before relaxing and blinking away the confusion. He stared at her in anticipation and when she couldn't respond with the right words, Kiyoko looked down at her plate and shyly picked up her fork to continue on with what felt like an endless number of courses.
Eventually, she worked up the courage to speak. She wasn't sure why her voice was caught at her throat when he looked at her like that. No one looked at her like that – as if she was someone worthwhile. Someone important. Someone worth caring for.
"They're good," she softly murmured with a nod in a way of trying to reassure him that she meant it.
"The food?" Kyouya thought she had dropped the topic after the way stayed silent while she ate. He looked up from his plate to meet her eyes. He could stare at them for the rest of the night if she let him.
"No," Kiyoko swallowed the lump in her throat. "My intentions. I mean well."
"I know," Kyouya responded in the same soft tone, afraid that she would retreat back if he used any other kind of voice. He could see it in her eyes that she meant it. "I don't think you know what is best for you."
"If marrying you is what is best for me," Kiyoko conceded with a nod. "Yes, you are correct. But it is not what is best for you."
"And why do you care? Do you like me or something?" Kyouya had a knack of using her own words against her. He meant it jokingly but she seemed to have taken the thought of it more seriously than what he intended.
Kiyoko blinked at him and slowly came to the realization herself. She gave a curt nod while looking him in the eye. Her gaze was soft, her pupils dilated with nothing but adrenaline at the confession.
"I do," she admitted. "More than I like to," she added with a soft exhale. She really did like the man – romantic or not, he tugged at her delicate heartstrings with the naïveté in his sincere words. Kinder than most people she had met, even if he didn't want to admit it. A selfish part of her wondered if he felt the same way. But she wasn't like him – Kiyoko wasn't raised to be nice. She was raised with what seemed like wolves - howls in the household, shattered glass against the wooden floors, a dysfunctional family at its finest.
The surprise on his face was easy to spot – it was a split second of his mouth parting and the way that his eyes widened was something that anyone could have caught. Kiyoko smiled at how easy it was to find him uncomposed. It wasn't like him and he hated how she caught him dead in the act. He cleared his throat in trying to brush off the comment.
"Of course," he spoke coolly recovering from the disclosure with ease. She made the comment so casually, as if speaking it into existence was like ordering a coffee. That was what she did best, he told himself. Confuse people. Put up a front. Play mind games. This was no different, he thought.
"You don't believe me?" Kiyoko raised an eyebrow at him. She could already sense the hesitation in his voice. She popped the last bit of dessert into her mouth in amusement.
"I don't," he perched up his glasses as he tried to ignore the twinkle in her eyes. Something about it made his breath seize halfway in his chest. Kyouya naturally looked away from her and silently pushed his plate over to her side of the table as an offering. He didn't have much of a sweet tooth and she seemed to have enjoyed the last course more than he ever would. She grinned in delight and accepted the offer with ease, quickly pulling the small plate towards herself with the almond shaped nails. He watched her chew in silence, letting the flavours dance on her tongue and her eyes close in enjoyment.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"My pleasure," he responded a tad too robotically.
She put down her fork and perched her elbow against the table. She rested her chin on her palm and smirked as if knowing he stood zero chance. It was enough to annoy him, to take the bait.
"What?" he muttered, avoiding her gaze as he paid for the bill with his sleek black credit card. Kiyoko had one of her own, of course. While she made no move to offer to pay for the bill, she was still raised with manners.
"Let me repay you," she offered.
"There's no need," Kyouya politely refused. "This was—" His treat, he meant to say before she cut him off.
"You're going to say no to free drinks?" She pouted. "You really are no fun," Kiyoko rolled her eyes.
"Another time?" he tried. At least, he could use this as an excuse to see her again.
"Nope," Kiyoko shook her head, already expecting him to use her debt against him. She knew how the Ootori worked – he was a simple man, after all.
"It's now or never, Kyouya."
Only a ten minute walk away, the woman dragged him by the arm to quicken his pace the entire time. He obliged but only after reminding her that he did not have any band-aids on hand for her. She let go of his arm immediately and earned himself a sharp unamused glare instead. He chuckled at her on the way up the elevator as she crossed her arms in annoyance.
As soon as the elevators opened, the entire floor was surrounded by glass windows that overlooked the entire city. During the summer nights, it was more of a rooftop bar but the winter season had the place humming with fewer people. He learned that it was an exclusive bar and of course, Kiyoko had access to such places. The owner commissioned her to supply the décor of artwork and sculptures. Kiyoko spoke her name like it was a passcode to grant her access for everything and anything.
It was the kind of power that he never really had, purely because he never frequented such places nor did he have any reason to. Kyouya watched as she hardly had to utter her full name before servers surrendered in their utmost respect, immediately taking their coats and leading them to the VIP area – a part of him wondered what it would have been like if she honed the Ootori name on her tongue; how easily she could command the room with it. If Kiyoko could do this with strangers, what else could she do? A part of him became rather fascinated with the thought.
They settled at the private lounge in the VIP area by the windows – the best view of the entire bar, far away from the sparse crowds. Only quiet murmurs of the background settled with the lighting dark enough to only make out the details of each other if they looked close enough. They had their own little nook to themselves, this time without a table in between each other. They sat next to one another with a comfortable amount of distance on the soft leather banquette.
Kiyoko shrugged off the cape blazer that settled on her shoulders to make herself more comfortable against the heat of new place they settled in. The Ootori followed in suit by taking off a layer and rolling up his sleeves quietly while the server came around.
"What's your usual?" she asked.
"Whiskey neat," Kyouya answered, still focused on the cuffs of his shirt.
Kiyoko turned to the server who had come around and spoke his order first.
"Bourbon on the rocks, please," she politely requested for herself. To that, he looked up in surprise of her choice of drink. But instead, he was met with her neat French braid, with wisps of it only coming apart to frame her face. Her back was turned to him, the top half of her back was barren with just the cross-cross of the straps that bound to her ribs.
Kyouya gaped at her unwittingly. It was a silly reaction, really. He just didn't expect the look from the front, her the neckline was quite conservative despite being in a v-shape. The skin-tight bodysuit covered enough of her lower back to have been tucked in neatly into her high-waisted pants, her black stilettos glistening beneath the ambient lighting to finish off the look. The blazer was certainly a fine choice to tip the outfit into something appropriate at the restaurant. But now, it was… it was something equally appropriate, he said to himself. His throat ran dry at the thought of how close she was.
She turned back at him with visible surprise when she saw the look on his face.
"Why do you look so petrified? Do you see an ex?" She turned again towards the sparse crowds in confusion. It was hard to make out any face from this distance. The VIP lounge was not particularly busy at this hour nor at this time of the season. It was an exclusive place that only catered to the rich and elite so the circles still ran quite small.
"If you want to go," Kiyoko offered. "You can." She liked watching him squirm but there was no need to make the man suffer longer than needed – was it something about the bar that made him feel uncomfortable? She assumed that the place was not what he would consider a dive bar or anything shady. In fact, Kiyoko had assumed that the prim and proper Ootori would be rather impressed by it all.
"No," he answered a little too quickly. "No, I want to stay." He reached out to her knee as a form of reassurance.
Kiyoko narrowed her eyes in confusion, not batting away the warm touch of his palm against her leg. She almost welcomed it, if she didn't pretend to have not noticed the move. "Are you alright? I know this isn't really a place you'd probably frequent because you're an uptight—"
"—Excuse me? Our first meeting was at a bar," Kyouya narrowed his eyes at her accusation of him being uptight like it was a negative thing.
Kiyoko paused. "Oh," it took her a second to recall. "How did you even find that place?" It was a speakeasy, a place where most people wouldn't know about unless it was word of mouth. The Ootori most certainly had no one to tell him about such a place – not anyone that Kiyoko could think of that would tell him of it.
"I have my resources," he smirked at her.
She frowned and rolled her eyes. "Tell me," Kiyoko demanded, shifting closer to taunt him.
"Why?" He liked this game. He liked having the upper hand. His mouth contorted to a small smile when she pouted and crossed her arms. He didn't mind the way she had naturally moved closer to him either. "So you can cover your tracks better?" he guessed.
"Precisely," the gallerist nodded. "What gave me away?"
"An art critic who wrote about your exhibition. They wrote that they met you there at the bar," he confessed. Kyouya was weak against the way she gazed at him with such fervor, determined to make him crack. The way she softened her gaze in satisfaction was something else like a wave of relief had rushed through his body. Why couldn't she look at him like that more?
"But how did you know I would be there?" Kiyoko wondered. "I could have been anywhere."
"I didn't," Kyouya confessed. "I just figured you wouldn't show up to dinner, especially if you hadn't showed up to anything else before that. That bar was my only lead, so I went and waited."
The woman scoffed with a shake of her head. It was pure luck to have let them meet the way that they did. "Wow, you really are a gambler, aren't you?"
"Odds were in my favour," he shot a boyish smile.
"No," Kiyoko laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. What an idiot. "They really weren't," she mirrored the smile that he gave.
Things were so easy with him – so oddly natural with the man who seemed so stoic to the rest of the world. A man who calculated profits, and everything related to profits only. There was something child-like about him, his intentions were nothing but good – at least from what Kiyoko could read from him. It seemed too good to be true, but she couldn't help but to hope that he was all that he had made himself to be with no strings attached. Kiyoko wondered if anyone else knew him like this. Was she the only one?
Their drinks arrived shortly. Kiyoko handed off the glass over to him in one swift motion, letting his fingers linger on her own. His touches were so careful with her – soft and light, treating her as though she were the most delicate thing. What did he see in her when she spent so much of her life being as tough as stone?
"How so?" Kyouya asked. He shuffled closer to her, reaching to meet his glass with her own when she tilted her glass towards him as an offer. They clinked their glasses and let the sound echo around them. She welcomed his presence, tucking her knee under a leg and propping her head up with the elbow resting on the banquette.
Kiyoko took a sip and let the alcohol burn against her throat. Something about it made her feel so much more alive. The intensity of her feelings expanded twofold as she stared at him, wondering if he felt the same. She wished to reach out to his wrist – was his heart racing like hers? Did she make him feel the same way? Maybe not. Maybe she was just being silly with a crush. By tomorrow, this would all have been forgotten.
Kiyoko hummed. "There are a lot of bars in this city. The math is simple, really. To hedge your bets—"
"—the bar was particularly exclusive, no? You were bound to show up as one of the patrons," Kyouya pointed out.
"But on that day too?" Kiyoko scoffed. "No, that was pure luck. You're one lucky bastard, Ootori-san."
Kyouya shrugged, swirling the malt drink in his glass. "Maybe," he yielded to her. "Do you believe in luck?"
"Oh yes," Kiyoko responded without hesitation. "You can calculate the probabilities of your hand, read the faces of your opponents, and still lose," she explained. "Luck is always needed."
"And are you a lucky person?" he asked.
Kiyoko shrugged. "I'm not sure. Why would it matter?" She didn't gamble anymore. Luck was not really something she thought about.
"You're lucky enough to have met me," Kyouya chuckled, liking that she stepped right into the trap he set.
"Ha," she rolled her eyes. "Maybe not so lucky to have to handle your ego," she countered with equal wit.
Do you like me or something? She asked it as a joke the night before.
But goodness, maybe he really did like her. He stared at the way she sipped on her drink with ease, treating it as though it were mere water. She swallowed the bitter drink with such elegance, he couldn't help but stare. He could easily admit that she was a frustrating woman in many ways. It drove him wild. But in moments like these – she drove him wild with absolute fascination too. It went beyond her beauty – he could find any beautiful woman. But he wouldn't be able to find her resilience, her daring nature, or her wit.
"So what was it?" Kiyoko nudged him out of his thoughts. She stared at him in curiosity, leaning closer to encourage him to share the secret.
"What?" he responded dumbly.
"Why were you so petrified earlier? Did you see an ex or something?"
"I don't have an ex," Kyouya spoke of it so casually that he didn't realize what he had admitted to until an amused smile sat on her lips. "What?" he growled, readying himself for the barrage of teasing.
"Nothing," Kiyoko held up her hand in defense as she leaned back. The man's face contorted with disapproval, as if catching her in a lie. "I should have known better considering what you were like."
"And what am I like?" he asked with narrowed eyes, as if telling her to tread carefully with her next statement.
"Too busy to date," the woman explained. "Right?" When his expression relaxed into an expression of slight annoyance, Kiyoko figured it was a pretty reasonable justification.
"You say it like I should be ashamed of it," Kyouya grumbled.
"I don't have an ex either," Kiyoko tried to make him feel better. It wasn't a shameful thing – not at all.
"Because you're fucking psychotic, right?" he monotonously quipped.
Kiyoko laughed. Her eyes crinkled in absolute delight at the comment as she nodded in agreement. Thankfully, she picked up on his joke. Otherwise, it would have been downright offensive. That was another thing about her – her sense of humour, he realized. She was funny, or rather, she had always been bold enough to make fun at his expense. He hated every moment of it and still found it rather refreshing. She let all the jabs thrown at her from the rest of society roll off her back. Kiyoko was impenetrable. She proved that he had a long way to go before he could reach her level.
"Yes," Kiyoko answered brightly. "As psychotic as they come." She raised her glass as a cheers to that statement. The Ootori reluctantly raised his glass to her, frowning as she took a sip to the statement in irony.
"It's not true," he shook his head at her.
"You don't know that," Kiyoko grinned. "You probably just think I'm pretty – maybe funny too."
"Funny?" He repeated. Did she just read his mind?
"Okay, fine," she relented. "I think you're funny," Kiyoko corrected herself.
"No," Kyouya pointed at her. "You make fun of me."
The woman giggled quietly. "Sorry."
"You're also not sorry," Kyouya sighed with a groan.
"And you're not angry," Kiyoko pointed out.
"If I were, would it make a difference?" the Ootori rolled his eyes.
Kiyoko shrugged. "You wouldn't be here, no?"
They realized that they were both here – in a moment that seemed like nothing else had mattered. They were sitting beside each other with hardly any space in between them. Hearing nothing but the pumping of blood that coursed through their veins, amplified in their chest and in their ears – they stared at each other, trying to read the expression on their faces. They mirrored each other: the hesitation, the longing, the wonder of if they both felt the same thing.
The rest of the world saw a couple stealing a moment in the dark depths of a bar, staring at each other with such intent in a bubble that no one else could infiltrate. They spoke of secrets, laughed in a language that only they understood, and exchanged glances that only old friends could decipher.
Kiyoko blinked and parted her lips before looking back down at her drink, shying away from his gaze on her. Was she actually shy? Kyouya dipped his head down to try to look her in the eye again. Where did that boldness go? Why was she hiding away from him? He wanted to look at her – especially her eyes. What were they telling him? He could have sworn he was getting closer to understanding her. Just a little more, his eyes begged. But she wasn't looking.
She took a small sip from her drink, a natural way of evading his gaze. The fire that travelled down her esophagus was enough to bring her back to her senses. What was she doing with herself? Why was she letting herself feel like this? To feel good. To feel cared for. To feel…
She gently felt his fingers tuck away the strand of hair that fell loose from her braid. His touches were still so feather light, it tickled against her ear. It was enough for her to swivel her head to look at him again. He was so close to her; he felt so warm. Kyouya still smelled the same as she remembered him. She wished she could wrap herself in that scent – there was something so comforting about it. She gulped and shifted against the banquette, tucking both her knees onto the seat as her hands fell to grip the glass in her lap.
"Why do you look like that?" Kyouya whispered, not making any move to shift away, or any closer. They reached a standstill, but something about being so close together felt like second nature to either of them.
"Like what?" she breathed. Kiyoko wished that the burning of the alcohol had been around to sober her up again but instead she fell into this mellow haze as she leaned against the soft leather, unable to take her gaze off of him. She hated to admit it, but he was actually quite attractive. It seemed like the same had occurred to him, when he looked at her so softly it made her heart want to collapse in on itself. Why was he so good to her?
"Sad," he murmured. "You look so sad."
She smiled as if trying to convince him otherwise. It wasn't one of those wicked smiles, the sort she mastered to make someone's skin crawl in fear. Kiyoko made her best attempt at a sincere one this time. "I'm not." It was a terrible lie. Was it that obvious? He was the second person to tell her that today.
"You are," Kyouya insisted. "Tell me why."
Kiyoko took a deep breath. "I'm going to need more alcohol," she murmured. He clinked her glass, joining her in comfort as he also took in another mouthful. The burn didn't sober her this time. It only made her chest heavier as she tried to choke out what made her sad.
"I can't have you," she whispered. He seemed like a good man who made her have a glimpse of perhaps, what life would have been like if she were normal. If she was maybe, from a family that was respectable. Maybe if all of this flirting and fun could turn into something more than just a business alliance to a foundation of friendship and beyond. Wouldn't it be nice to date? To reach all the milestones and anniversaries of a normal couple. He could take her out to actual dinners that didn't feel so fleeting. Maybe she could have the wedding of her dreams. A house that she could call her own. Children who would run in the halls and grow up to be loved and successful as they could possibly be. Then she could grow old with him. Kiyoko never had these thoughts cross her mind before. She never had the chance to think about such a possibility.
"What?" he shook his head in disbelief – wondering if he had heard right.
"I can't…" Kiyoko croaked. Goodness, where did her voice go? She just had it a few seconds ago before her brain raced through the possibilities. "I can't," she repeated more firmly, shaking her head at him.
He shook his head at her, confused at what she was making a big deal out of. "Why not?"
"I…" She didn't even know where to begin. Between her family being a PR disaster for the Ootoris, to her autistic brother who was nonexistent to the world, to the fact that she was probably embroiled in something suspicious with being held at knifepoint. She had too much for him to handle. Too much for herself to handle even.
Kyouya had no more patience for this. He wouldn't be able to tell her in words, nothing he could say to convince her. He had no words for her anyway. His free hand cupped her cheek as he softly met her lips. Her plush lips were just as he imagined them. Now that he had finally done it, he could never go back to just his imagination. When she stayed frozen, he pressed more firmly against her, his hand reaching to the back of her neck right beneath her braid. He paused for a breath to find tears streaming down her cheeks.
He wiped them away with his thumb, careful to dab her cheek dry so he wouldn't smudge her makeup. Even the way he touched her cheeks was so delicate, it only made her want to pull him closer to she could embrace him with her gratitude.
"Was it that bad of a kiss?" he muttered.
She erupted in a giggle, feeling better immediately. She shook her head at him. Kiyoko sniffed away the remnants of her tears and placed her drink on the table so she could use both her hands again. She exhaled and took a deep breath, as if trying to sober herself up or maybe to gather the courage for something. Kiyoko turned towards him and wondered if she looked like an absolute disaster. She hoped the smudged makeup would at least add to the whole ambiance of someone to be feared. But he just looked at her as though she was still the most fascinating thing in the world. Why couldn't he stop that? It would have made it easier for her.
She stared back in awe. "No, I couldn't even tell that you never kissed anyone before." It was a joke that he did not take very well.
"I've kissed people," Kyouya shot back with narrowed eyes. "It's you who—"
Both her soft hands gripped his jaw before she swooped down to press a soft kiss to his own lips. It was his turn to freeze at the sudden bold movement. She kissed him over and over again, each time with a tenderness that he hadn't expected from her. They were chaste and quick, with only him growing hungrier at each peck – against his lips, his jaw, his neck. He relaxed into her grip, his free hand resting at the small of her back, gently moving down to her hips and eventually to grip the bottom of her thigh. The rush of feeling her bare back against his palm made the touch feel electric beneath his fingers while he explored the rest of her body. Her hands travelled down from his face to the back of his neck, the nails just barely grazing against the skin. It felt good, so good. He leaned closer, trapping her against the leather of the seat before she pushed him away at the chest.
"Not bad for someone who's never kissed anyone, huh?" she murmured with a smile against his ear.
"Not bad at all," he agreed, still breathless. He set the drink down on the table and settled a hand on her waist, pulling her closer to him. The other hand laced his fingers with her own. She still felt cold under his touch. He could spend the whole night making her feel the warmth she made him feel if he could.
"I meant it," she whispered. "I can't have you." She told him this and yet, she felt so comfortable in his firm grip. Kiyoko didn't want to move, not when she hadn't felt like this – ever. The comfort. The warmth emanating from him. The peace that settled in her chest. Maybe if he let go first, she would stand a chance.
"I want you," Kyouya insisted with an urgency in his voice that he didn't know where it came from. "You," he repeated. "I want you." Sure, the hospitals were the intended goal – but she happened to be an unexpectedly wonderful asset. Profits did not make his heart beat like she did. They did not make him laugh or want to rip his hair out, either. They did not make him feel.
There it was again. He was so good at that – telling her the things she didn't even know she had wanted to hear. Like her heart had been turned into a puppet and all the strings had been given to him, and him only. Kiyoko could feel herself grow weaker the more she stayed. She hardly stood a chance now.
"You don't even know me," she murmured with a shake in her head.
"But I want to," he told her. "I want to know everything."
"I'm scared." The confession rolled off her tongue. She was going to regret saying that someday, she knew it.
"You?" Kyouya chuckled with a shake of his head. "You're fearless. What could you be scared of?" He brushed away the hair around her face to look at her better. He wondered if people could look beautiful even if they cried like she did. She was stunning. It took him too long to admit it.
"Losing you," Kiyoko responded without hesitation. It wasn't exactly a lie but, "I don't even have you I just—" she laughed at the thought and shook her head. It was all a fantasy. Was she allowed to just play pretend tonight? "I would rather not have you so I can't lose you."
"I'm not that easy to lose," the Ootori smirked, squeezing her hand as a reminder. He had gotten this far, hadn't he?
Kiyoko smiled at his poor attempt of a joke. "I know," she sighed. He was a stubborn one. And so incredibly naïve – he had no idea what her family was capable of. What he would have to deal with.
"So what are you afraid of?" his voice so confident that it almost convinced her. She contemplated it. Telling him from start to finish: her childhood memories, her twisted family, and Haru especially.
But all that came out of her mouth was, "You know what I'm afraid of."
"You have nothing to worry about," he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. He inhaled. God, she smelled so good. He could stay like this forever.
She had more to worry about than ever before.