Chapter 21

Paris was a dream.

After his flight had touched down onto home grown soil, he was back in the office spending his days in meetings and nights evaluating reports and spreadsheets. In the minutes that he had to himself, the stillness of the silence had him staring at the wall across from him.

That blue painting of the sea sprawled across all 3 panels and along the entire width of one wall. He had to admit, he was engulfed in the sight every time he found himself lost in the hues that blended into the depths of the sea. He was carried away into the memories of her laughing with him over glasses of wine, kisses of her along his jawline, her fingernails digging into his skin, and suddenly he was tangled in between sheets with her porcelain skin and long hair tickling his neck. He could still smell her perfume.

Kyouya's fingers itched to check his phone, his mind already considering if he should text her. He could ask if she had gotten home safely but it had already been over a week. He had missed his chance, having to catch up in a whirlwind of items to do in the office.

It was barely two in the afternoon in the middle of the week and he was still distracted by her. What was she up to? He wondered. What did she even do all day? Why didn't she text? Why did she never initiate their conversations?

Don't you know what she likes? Tamaki was flabbergasted when he suggested a picnic and Kyouya responded with a shrug. Perhaps she was not the type of person who would like picnics – eating outdoors with all the insects buzzing around seemed like a poor choice, at least to the Ootori.

You must at least know her favourite colour, Kyouya.

Admittedly, he did not. But he could guess that it was a dark red, like her nails. Or emerald green? Some kind of dark cobalt grey? Maybe it was black. She was always in shades of rich dark hues. But would any of them be her favourite? He did not know. Maybe she did not even have one – she did not seem to care for such whimsical things.

Goodness, mon ami. Do you even know her?

Their last text exchange was back in France. And even then, she hadn't responded to it.

Did he even know her?

Yes, he did. More so than anybody else, he thought. Could anybody else be allowed to sleep beside her? Nobody else could touch her in the way that he did, nobody could come close to what he had achieved. But even then, she was so distant. She floated away from him just as fast as he could grasp water in his hands.

It would bother him for the rest of the week.

What would make her stay?

She called him the next evening and he picked up near immediately. He was barely down the elevator at the end of another day at the office. Most people had left by now, scurrying home to their families in time for dinner on the tail end of the work week.

"What's the occasion?" He could hear the smile in her voice. "Flowers are so trite," she continued, forcing her voice to stay unimpressed. She wasn't doing a good job at it.

"I thought you would have liked flowers," the Ootori answered coolly with a grin, walking through the elevator to his car. He had seen the way she gazed at the roses in the gardens in France, stopping by to sniff the gardenia on the bushes, and gently plucked honeysuckle off the stems to replenish the ones in the room they stayed in. She loved flowers. She just never said anything of it.

"I have literally never told anybody I liked flowers," Kiyoko huffed. There was a pause. "Thank you," she whispered. "They're lovely." She touched the petals of the lilies that sat on the counter of her kitchen. They instantly made her entire home feel brighter.

"There are other ways you could be thanking me," he smirked.
"Oh, like what?" she played coy.
"A dinner?" He could pick her up, he thought. They hadn't dined out for quite some time.

"How does seaweed soup sound? I'm trying out a new recipe," Kiyoko peered over to her stove. She had just put the ingredients into the pot to simmer. It shouldn't take too long. She had run across the city all morning and managed to get home barely an hour ago. Her feet ached from the heels she wore all day, her head of hair pinching her scalp in a tight bun, and her mind buzzing with all of the things she still had to do for the week.

"What?" he scrunched up his nose at the thought of such a soup. He was hoping to go out, not stay in. Although over the past few months, Kyouya learned that the woman was more of a homebody than anyone. He didn't mind it. Her voice brought him back to reality and he let out a soft sigh of relief, no matter how irritated he was. Was this what it was like to have someone in your life at the end of a difficult day? Was this what the stupid Suoh had been droning on about? He was an absolute fucking idiot.

"It's either that or nothing at all," Kiyoko bartered, already knowing that he'd be on his way as soon as she hung up. He could hear the smile in her voice.
"Fine," he grumbled. "It sounds disgusting," he added.
"Don't be long," she bid farewell with a touch of a button.

Kyouya managed to zip through traffic in the better half of an hour. He let himself in, a habit he had formed when she stopped greeting him and would leave the door unlocked with the push of a button. Kiyoko would often be in the kitchen, busying herself with other tasks and let him coolly meander into her space, as expected. But tonight she stood at the foyer of her home at the foot of the stairs, shyly wrapping herself with the cashmere cardigan she had thrown on after changing out of her work clothes.

"Hello," she murmured with a shy smile, running a hand through her hair, as if trying to tame the unruly waves after falling out of her bun. Kiyoko immediately crossed her arms when she realized what she was doing. Why was she fidgeting? Was she nervous?

He stared at her in awe. Her hair was perfect: silky, long, and fell into the waves down to the middle of her back. Her eyes were larger than life, flickering from curiosity to animosity within a split second. Her lips were thin and parted, as if on the verge of spilling all that was on her mind. She missed him.

"Dinner is ready," she announced, stopping herself before it was too late.

She stared at him in the same way, studying his features with an expression of timidness as if wondering if they could ever return back to the way they were, now nearly two weeks ago. Paris was a dream. Tokyo was their reality.

Kyouya shrugged out of his suit jacket and placed it on the usual hook. He was the only one who used it and silently deemed it as his own. Kiyoko waited for him and tugged him towards the kitchen. Her small palm enclosed over half his hand, grasping at his fingers to come along with her. She sat him down at the small alcove, no bigger than for two people to sit and share a meal. The flowers he had sent sat on her kitchen counter by the window. A part of him decided that he quite enjoyed seeing parts of him around her home.

She began eating first, her eyes flitting away from him as she began spooning rice and soup into her mouth in the most refined way imaginable. He followed in suit, tasting the broth with a cautious sip.

"Not disgusting now, is it?" Kiyoko smiled to herself. "It's an old recipe from one of our housekeepers." She had hoped that she had done the recipe justice, at least enough to recreate with Haru later in the week. It was her brother who requested it, after all.

He could only nod in approval, refusing to admit that he was wrong in thinking that anything she cooked would be remotely awful to eat. Kiyoko never fed him a meal or a drink that was anywhere near unpalatable. He turned to her as she smiled at him in triumph, evidently proud of her creation.

Kyouya mirrored her expression, silently amused by how adorable she looked when she allowed him to see her this way. Moments of happiness that flickered in her eyes seemed to occur more frequently with him now more than ever. He wondered if he could be allowed to think that he was the reason why.

"What's your favourite colour?" he asked suddenly. Kyouya had remembered what Tamaki had said. Do you even know her?
"What?" she chuckled. "Why?"

Kyouya blinked. "Is it not red?" he tried.
"I like red," Kiyoko offhandedly agreed. "The rich kind of red – the sort that remind you of blood." She licked her teeth with a smirk and clicked her tongue as she winked at him.

"That doesn't answer the question," he huffed, ignoring the look on her face that made blood rush to his cheeks.
Kiyoko mulled over it for a moment, giving the Ootori a chance to recover from the shy blush. He wondered if she even noticed. Kiyoko shrugged offhandedly and answered the question. "I don't have one. But if I had to choose, I suppose blue comforts me."

"Blue?" he repeated.
"Yes, blue," she confirmed. "But the kind that looks like it's dark enough to be black. The sort of colour you see when you stare into the ocean long enough that you want to swim in it or drown in it… sink into the feeling of the waves as it carries you into the depths. How it swallows you up whole and makes you feel safe."

Kyouya tilted his head at the woman, fascinated by her. "You love that feeling," he summarized.
"I can't quite describe that feeling. But I see it in that colour," Kiyoko smiled to herself.

"The painting," the Ootori remembered. "The painting you sold me." Of course it was a reflection of her in every possible way. He stared at it on a daily basis, drawn to her in every moment of the day, how she managed to creep into his thoughts at any given moment.

"Ah, yes," Kiyoko recalled. "Perhaps that is my favourite colour. I'm glad you chose it," she murmured. "I was worried it would go to a home that was undeserving."
"I'm a home?" he mused.

"Yes, a home of… sorts," Kiyoko muttered before spooning a mouthful of rice to stop herself from saying anything more. She was unwilling to admit that she had grown to miss his presence over the time they had started to spend together. How she half-expected him to invite himself over after work during the better half of the week or his texts that she would purposefully ignore until the end of the day. She had to look forward to something and he was it.

The Ootori amused himself with that phrase over the rest of the meal. A home. She found comfort in him, did she not? After all, a home was a place of comfort and security. A home was a place built on a foundation of trust. She looked away from him and finished her meal silently, embarrassed to admit that she had felt the way she did of him.

When they finished their meal, he buried his nose in the crook of her neck as she stood by the counter to brew tea after putting away the dishes. His arms caged in her waist as he silently breathed her in. They stood like this many times before without the need to say a word. They let out tired sighs with one another as the sun set. At some point, they would sway and close their eyes to revel in the blanketed warmth of each other's bodies as they melted into one.

This was home, she thought. His arms felt like nothing she had ever experienced before. And the more she allowed herself to mold into his body, the more she felt like she drowned in his ocean of safety and affection. It didn't feel real because she had never felt this before.

"You're so small," he muttered as he willingly hunched over to hold her close. He wanted to keep her like this, bundled in his arms without fuss. He wanted to just keep her in every way possible.

She only huffed in response and poured in the hot water into the teapot. "Sorry, I'm not a model height," she rolled her eyes as she waited for the tea to brew.

He chuckled at the bitterness in her voice.

"I never wanted you to be," he assured, tightening his grip around her. He felt her relax into him, her hands eventually finding their way over to his forearms to keep him closer to her stomach. These were the moments he wanted to capture forever. To come home to her like this every night? If she would just let him, she could have it all. Or rather, he could have it all.

"What do you want me to be?" she sipped from her hot mug.
"Honest," he whispered deeply into her ear, his body pressed close enough to her back that she could feel the rumble in that word at the back of his throat.

"What do you want to know?" Her voice smaller than before. Could he tell that she was afraid? Kiyoko stared through the window, the skies now dimming to a point that light began reflecting off the pane of the glass. The two blurry figures stayed attached to one another with his chin resting right in the nook of her collarbones and his arms securely wrapped around her waist to keep her from running. He held her together, he held her from breaking apart and fading away from him too soon.

"I don't know," he murmured. "I just want to know you. All of you."
"You know me," Kiyoko reassured. "More so than anybody else in the world." Except for one.
"More," Kyouya pressed on. "More. I want more. You read me like a book, and I just want to know what you're thinking half the time."
"And the other half?" she mused.

He kissed her neck, her jaw, her cheek. Such a privilege to hold her as soft as she was when she was usually in a coat of armour. He dreamt of the way she felt against him far too often to be acceptable. She tilted her head to meet his soft lips that coaxed her closer against him. He kissed her like he craved for her every single minute of the day, gently guiding her away from the kitchen with his strong grip.

She would have been lying if she didn't feel similarly. How she thought of his large hands that somehow enveloped her entire waist with such ease, the way his fingers crawled beneath her shirt to run his feathery touch across her skin, and the way he cupped the back of her neck to keep her from falling apart. Kiyoko willingly followed the pace he set, slowly along the stairs he had gently walked her up against.

They always ended up like this with their limbs tangled together under her grey duvet on her bed without any notion of time. He engulfed her with the sheer size of his body and she pulled him even closer to feel the weight of him with his sweat slicked skin against her bare body. Kiyoko's lips convinced him to stay down here with her so she could just indulge in the way he made her feel so desperately needed. The heaviness felt like relief when caged beneath him.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, giving her some space. The bastard was always so goddamn considerate. She couldn't hate him for it even if she tried.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Kiyoko growled. "Come here," she grinded up against him, her hunger insatiable. He smirked down at her and took in the sight. She was stunning. Her long hair spilling over the pillow, eyes widened at him with desire, dark red lips parted as she breathed him in to catch a breath. She was completely bare underneath, the only thing that kept her modest was him hovering over her small body. Kyouya could stare at her forever. She had no clue how incredible she looked right now. Was it so wrong to take a moment to realize how lucky he was?

"Please," she groaned. "Don't make me ask again."

He willingly did as told. Patience was not exactly either of their virtues after all. Neither of them needed to speak further – their bodies meld into one another as two halves a whole they never thought they needed until they met. It was a craving they never thought they would ever have.

She drew out the guttural groans in the back of his throat with her touch and her mouth on every part of his body. Her fingernails dug into his back when she let out a murmur of a moan right when he tilted against the spot that made her fall apart. Their collective sighs echoed across the darkness, over and over again.

She dragged him out of their comfy cocoon into the cold marble tile of her master bathroom before she fully fell into the realm of sleep. He squinted at the lights turning on and huffed in annoyance. A small bottle of his body wash had appeared in an empty shelf in her bathroom. Kiyoko shrugged at the presence of it, telling him that she noticed it during their time in Paris. She did not say anything more, pursing her lips at the thought of her scouring the department store for an extra half hour for it – how embarrassing. Kiyoko shoved him through the glass panes and turned on the water to a scorching temperature that they both preferred.

It wasn't anything new. A routine that they had fallen into over the few months. Only now it felt more intimate – sweeter with each gaze they stole at each other, every graze of their skin beneath their fingertips, seeing each other in the rawest form. Their fatigue carried them through the fog of a relaxed shower.

He held her close, wishing that the layer of the fluffy Egyptian cotton towel would be discarded around her torso. Kyouya combed his fingers through her slightly damp hair, fascinated by how smooth it was under his touch. Kiyoko silenced him with her gentle fingers on his face with product worth more than a day of a regular man's salary, telling him to stay still in that sharp demanding tone of hers. He complied instantly with a smile on his lips, closely studying the flawless skin of her pale cheeks and the flutter of her luscious eyelashes. He thought about kissing her but relented when he realized it would annoy her. She put on layers of whatever was on her fingertips, grumbling about keeping him youthful for decades to come.

He left her to put on her own series of skincare products, half-dozing away in the post-sex haze as he waited for her. It was near midnight by the time she had crawled back into bed with him, now with a black silk negligee while smelling like a garden of peonies. The dip of the mattress jostled him awake. He opened his arms to have her crawl into the space made just for her with a small smile. It felt so natural to have her in between, the way she could fit so easily tucked beneath his chin and in the hollow of his torso, he could do it in his sleep.

"Good night," she whispered before pressing a kiss to his jaw softly. She watched the way his eyes drooped to a deep slumber, his grip loosening over her waist and his warm breath on her forehead. He went to bed with a smile. It was a good night. A wonderful night. A night he would want to have every night.

More.

She could hear him whisper it again and again. Was this ever going to be enough for him? Kiyoko wondered.

I want more.

Late August at the Hibayashi Estate was as impressive as ever. Kiyoko looked into the distance of the gardens in full bloom. The waterfront of their small lake was quaint but attracted flocks of ducks every spring and summer. She and her brother would go feed the ducks grains that were left over from their kitchen during their childhood. The trees at the edge of their property still had scuff marks of the knives she had thrown over a decade ago. There were all these little pockets of memories scattered across the property, often forgotten until she had these rare moments of peace to herself. She waited at the front of the home, hiding in a little alcove that peeked into the back of the property.

A tap on the shoulder startled her enough to stumble forward on her Louboutins, snapping herself out of her thoughts near immediately.

"Oi," he chuckled as he grabbed onto her waist to steady her. "Are you alright?"

Kiyoko dusted herself off, smoothing the black pencil skirt she wore with her white cape blazer. Her lips were painted a blood red and her nails to match, her hair slicked back in a low bun. She wore her armour today. Kyouya couldn't help but to appreciate every part of it. He wouldn't have minded sneaking away for a few minutes to just indulge in her beauty.

"I'm fine," she huffed. "You're late," Kiyoko scolded.
Kyouya looked at his Omega watch on his wrist. "I'm on time," he argued. The invitation said 7. It was 6:55.
"Your parents are already seated," she grumbled. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you wanted to skip out on this," Kiyoko added.

"I would never," he denied. "What kind of impression would that make?"
"As if it matters," she rolled her eyes. "The world already worships the ground you step on."

He chuckled. "You know," Kyouya caught up to her pace and stood in front of her. "The world could worship the ground you step on too." Couldn't she see that he already worshiped her? The world could fall at her feet if he just said so. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance and he was met with a sigh.

"I'm not interested in that," Kiyoko crossed her arms, refusing to even entertain the thought of that kind of privilege extending to her. "Can we get this over with?" She was growing impatient. Anxious, even. He could see the way her eyes darted past him and in the furrow of her brows towards their grand entrance.

"As you wish," he conceded with a shrug. Kyouya let her lead the way into the dining room, a familiar area where they had already shared a meal earlier in the year when the ground was still frozen and the trees were barren. The summer at their estate was truly breathtaking even from the brief walk outdoors. It was the epitome of wealth.

It was the same seating arrangement as before: the Hibayashi matriarch at the head of the table, the Ootoris on one side and the Hibayashis on the other. Kiyoko took a seat beside her grandmother as expected. Kyouya made the move to seat himself beside Kiyoko instead of his parents. Kiyoko looked at him and blinked, silently darting her eyes towards the set of plates on the opposite side of mahogany dining table that was place for him. He stared back in confidence, already declaring his spot without needing to say a word when his hand clasped over hers.

The elders said nothing of the wordless interaction despite witnessing the entire thing. Ultimately, it had to have been good news for both families to see the two getting along at such a quick pace. It had been nearly a year since the two had met. The staff shuffled a set of new plates for the youngest Ootori without needing to be summoned.

And so, dinner began with the usual pleasantries: company performance indicators, development projects, fiscal projections over the next decade. Business spoken as casually as commentary on the weather. They had gotten through only one appetizer before the door burst open with the Hibayashi CEO poking his head into what was a quiet well-behaved formal dinner.

"What's this?" he snickered. "A business dinner without the man of the hour?"

Kiyoko took a sip of the wine and bit her tongue down to not spit out what the look on her grandmother said. You weren't invited.

"Trying to get of rid me so soon with the Ootoris?" Toshio shook his head and took a seat at the other end of the table, asserting his dominance against the matriarch. "Using my precious daughter as a pawn?"

"Now, precious is a bit of a stretch," Kiyoko interjected before her grandmother could. She had enough of this nonsense, especially after a long day of her own meetings to attend to and to have to sit through all of this. She had been dreading this for weeks. The dinner had been penciled in before Paris, nearly two months ago now. "What are you doing here? Your schedule said you were on a business trip."

"Yes, we were expanding—" her father began.
"In the Maldives?" Kiyoko raised an eyebrow, knowing better than the trip being for any purpose but business.

"The Maldives are an excellent place for mental recuperation," a female voice countered. Misaki entered the dining room with a bottle of vintage cabernet and filled the empty glass of her father. Her dress was far from what was considered appropriate for a dinner that was treated as a work function. Kiyoko and the entire table had to avert their gaze to keep it respectable.

"The Ootoris also own a share of their health and wellness resorts. You should really put an effort into learning the family business, Kiyoko." The condescension was thick behind the sweet register of her voice.

Kiyoko answered with a roll in her eyes as the other woman sat down beside her father. She was quite surprised by the fact that Misaki had stuck around for so long. She stabbed her tomato with more vigor as she ate through her salad in silence. Kyouya placed a hand on her thigh beneath the table and gently pat her bare knee in comfort. Kiyoko refused to look over to her grandmother, already feeling the tension between her family rise with every waking second.

By their third course, the conversation flowed back towards the business, with Takeda adding in whatever tidbit he could to stay involved. His young plaything seemed to always have an addendum with her managerial position in finance. The rest of the table politely ignored the unnecessary commentary.

Either way, the joint companies would solidify the monopoly throughout Japan. It was a wonderful proposal in all aspects. Enough that even the Ootoris began hinting at the blessing of the elders to move forth with the plan, having assumed that the obvious choice of inheritance would have been Kiyoko, the youngest Hibayashi.

"Well, if Kiyoko would be amenable to it," Kyouya was quick to tell them all what they wanted to hear like the true businessman he was brought up to be. "It would be an honour to—"

"Now now," Takeda interrupted. "You haven't quite gotten the most important blessing of—"

"Of my grandmother," Kiyoko shot back with her quick tongue and a sharp glare towards the man at the other end of the table. This was as civil as she could get with the table of esteemed guests sitting right across from her. There was never a need for her father at the table and certainly no need for him to divert the attention back to him.

The table turned to the Matriarch who put her glass down and gave a slow nod of acknowledgement, as if she hadn't been planning for this for the past year and a half. "It would be best to see you two secure the future of our company."

"Not so fast," Misaki interjected. "The future of the company is in our hands," she announced.

The Matriarch narrowed her eyes at the stranger. Kiyoko stared at the woman with the same look of disapproval. They were a splitting image of each other – piercing eyes, head tilted down to focus on the target, furrowed brows, and a long deep stare that bore into your skull. Misaki was very much not a welcomed guest at this table or in this entire household. The woman cowered back in her seat. The Ootoris were silent, watching the scene unfold before them.

"We're pregnant," Takeda grinned with triumph and without an ounce of shame, speaking on behalf of his partner. "How about a toast to the wonderful news, everyone?"

Kiyoko turned to her grandmother who had a familiar look on her face. Kiyoko recognized that expression since she was a young child. They were on the precipice of some kind of ceramic being thrown across the table. If not that, then definitely the silverware in her hands. Their family had an odd knack for hand-eye coordination. No one looked at the Ootoris who watched the scene play out. It was an embarrassment on all fronts. Kiyoko's position as the one true inheritor had just toppled over into shambles with the announcement of another child. Her grandmother's knuckles had turned white with the fork in her hand.

"How about a paternity test?" Kiyoko suggested with reasonable neutrality in her voice.
Misaki gasped at the audacity of the daughter and looked at the Hibayashi CEO for support. "How dare you even—"

"I'm doing you a favour," the daughter snapped, refusing to even entertain another thought from the woman's mouth. "This man is not the kind of father you want for your child. And you," she turned to the CEO. "You had a vasectomy."

Takeda shrugged, already knowing that this was news that no one would take well. "I had it reversed, obviously."

Kiyoko sat back in her seat calmly and stared at the two Ootoris before her. There it was: the look on their faces of second-hand embarrassment and discomfort. How could she ever think that this would ever bode well? She finished off her wine with two swift gulps as the entire table sat in silence, watching her with hawk eyes. Now was certainly not the time to crumble.

"It was so lovely to have you all here tonight," Kiyoko spoke to their guests with grace. She even threw in a forced smile. Her grandmother was silently fuming and two minutes away from a violent outbreak. If Kiyoko could save anyone, it was going to be herself.

The Ootoris could only stare in amazement at the turn of events. "Please enjoy with whatever courses we have left for you, including a Poire à la Beaujolaise that our family chef worked tirelessly for. Your consideration of our business has been highly appreciated. Please excuse me."

Kiyoko stood from her seat with one swift motion and exited the premises with only the click of her heels echoing down the hall.

Her car was still on the premises which meant she was somewhere on the property. The place was an actual maze and sprawled through several acres. Their mansion rivalled their own in extravagance. The family might have been dysfunctional, but goodness their business was surely still profitable to upkeep the estate. Kyouya sighed and wondered where the woman had possibly gone off to. Would it have been best to just wait for her back at her place? Eventually, she would return.

"Ootori-san, was it?" A housekeeper ducked her head down with respect. "Can I help you with anything?" He was wandering through the depths of the quarters of the mansion without any clue where they were. Kiyoko gave him such a brief tour months ago, he hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings and was more enamoured by her instead.

Dinner had ended rather abruptly with the Ootoris knowing to take a hint to leave when they saw it. His parents had shuffled themselves awkwardly out the door with plenty of to digest, both figuratively and literally. Kyouya had looked around the entrance to see her car parked beside his: two Mercedes side by side in the exact colour and model. He slid right back in through the front door, rushing down the hall that he had seen her hurry through earlier.

"Do you know where Kiyoko has gone?" he asked.
"I'm afraid not," they answered.

Kyouya looked around the hallway with three differing paths to take. Where the hell was she? She answered none of his calls or his texts, which wasn't entirely unusual but goodness it was fucking inconvenient. The distressed expression gave way to some sympathy of the housekeeper who sighed and ushered him into the kitchen.

"Do you know where Kiyoko could be?" she asked an elder housekeeper. "This young man is looking for her."

The elder woman looked like she was in her mid-fifties and very clearly had been with the family for many decades. She had seen everything and anything the Hibayashi family had to offer. She held onto secrets that could write a whole novel.

"She said her goodbyes already, no?" the head housekeeper raised an eyebrow. "She never leaves without saying goodbye."
"Her car is still here," Kyouya informed. "She has to be somewhere."

The woman grumbled in annoyance. This was not in her job description, not after the young child had grown into an adult. "We don't have time for a goose chase here. Toshio-san might know. He's in the garage," he waved off.

Kyouya was led outdoors through the front doors and into their spacious garage that veered off from the rest of the home. A gruff man was busy polishing what was probably their family car.

"Who's this? Is this one of those annoying kids who sell you stuff or somethin'?" he asked, doing a once-over at the Ootori. The younger man was taller but their family chauffer was stocky and could pack a punch if needed. There was an air of disapproval as soon as the stranger stepped into his space.

"He's looking for Kiyoko," the staff member answered, stifling a chuckle.
"Well, he's out of luck," the man waved off. "She just took off."

"But her car is still here," Kyouya pointed out.
"She's a grown ass woman," Toshio-san growled. "We don't keep track of her whereabouts. Why are you looking for her anyway?"

Kyouya stood silent – where to even begin? He was always looking for her. She was always somehow in the back of his mind. Was she alright? What was she thinking? Why did it always feel like he was on the precipice of losing her? Did he even have her in the first place?

He didn't have to say anything for the family chauffer to roll his eyes at the look on his face.

"You have that look on your face," he shook his head at the young man. He paused for a couple more beats, studying the Ootori before he cracked. This man had to be important if he had gone this far to look for the young miss. "She's out in the back, probably trying to dig through my secret stash of cigarettes like she used to as a teenager when she saw red."

Kyouya blinked. "What?"

Toshio-san shrugged off the kid's disbelief. "Can't say I'm proud of it 'cause I taught her how to smoke but we all gotta let out some steam every once in a while. I moved my stash to a different location so if she finds it, at least she'd have earned it."

The older man opened a door to an alleyway that led into another balcony with a stone ledge. It overlooked the greenery of the back of the mansion. It was no lake view or anywhere like the gardens, but it was vast and expansive into a sea of forest. The smell of cigarette smoke was a dead giveaway that she was nearby.

"Don't fucking come at me with your speech about how smoking is bad when you taught me how to smoke, you old man," Kiyoko hissed when she heard the steps come through. Her voice dripped with menace, veiling her deep-rooted care for the elder. There was only one person who knew about this place.

"And also, what the fuck?" She took another puff as though this was a regular habit of hers. The cigarette sat between her index and middle finger like it had always belonged there while she blew smoke over the balcony ledge coolly. The red lipstick transferred only slightly to leave a tinge of red on the filter as she tapped off the ashes with expertise.

"Why did you move your stash from the tree to the goddamn bird house? Took me ages to find the lighter too. And besides, if it is anyone who shouldn't be smoking it's you because your lungs are—" Kiyoko finally swivelled around to find the man that was very much not their family chauffeur.

He stood aloof a couple feet away from the woman, unafraid by the way she glared at him. He studied her in fascination. She could sell smoking to him and he wouldn't even question it. Kiyoko made the whole thing look so cool and he was the Cool Type for heaven's sake.

"Shit," she gritted out with a sigh of smoke, like a dragon huffing at an enemy that had just invaded her secret lair. "It's you," Kiyoko scowled.