bored411: So many friggin secrets man. I'M having trouble keeping up with them lol

Nana-san14: There will definitely be focus on Kyoya and the children later!

Mili. San Luis: The deathly soda will make a return! lol

Ale250496: She's not not going to cook paella ;)

Nina9802: Thank you! It's def tough but I'm figuring it out!

Gilmore: The friendship...it's blossoming...!

Akari Wolf Princess: There is much more to come between the children and the grandparents. This story is going to be filled with so much family drama, you don't even know.

So I know I said this chapter was going to be really family-focused, but eh. I figured I'd move things around and do a little fluff one instead. Give it a little levity~! Thank you guys so much for the reviews!

Kosuke has been doing a lot of studying lately. A lot.

Not just for school—though that is a huge chunk of it.

Amida Health and Ootori Medical. Company histories and members and products. Stock markets. Business models. Even things like clothing brands and the names of the artists that are "all the rage."

About once a week she'll come into Shigeo's office for an evaluation. She usually scores decently, but she could get all but one question right and he would still sneer down at her like she had a single-digit IQ.

But right when she has her schedule built like a house of cards, Shigeo throws something else at it: etiquette boot camp.

Kosuke thinks about it the same way she thought about algebra in high school: Yeah, I know it's important, but eugh.

She takes lessons in walking (including the cliché of balancing books atop her head as she walks), bowing (her angle measured with a protractor), and conversation—and this last one is the most troublesome, because one teacher gives advice on how to be eloquent and charming while the other instructs a mindset a little too close to "women should be seen and not heard." She never has the same teacher twice; they're either fine or intolerable. The worst so far has been her dining etiquette teacher, who had refused to believe that Kosuke already knew which glass was for water and which for wine and gave her a ten-minute lecture on it.

It's another responsibility that cuts not just into the five minutes of free time she has every day, but her very little time to spend with her siblings. Sometimes she catches one or both of them watching from the shadows as she's scolded for walking with strides that are too long, or has her arm pinched when her back leans too much. They always leave once spotted, but Kosuke is grateful for the reminder to power through.

Shigeo evaluates her more ruthlessly than ever—with colorful insults such as "you walk like a chicken on stilts." Yet boot camp hasn't gone on for long at all before her midterm arrives: a birthday for a long-time friend at his private villa.

Kosuke spends the days before practicing every tiny thing she learned. And honestly? She thinks she does pretty well. She does not teeter in her heels or panic over her dress skirt touching the floor. Topics in conversation are finally ones that she can speak of. Someone asks her who designed her dress and she answers without butchering the pronunciation. True, she's still in a villa full of strangers, but that's fine.

At one point in the night, Kosuke is wearing a million-yen dress around people drinking wine that cost even more, and thinks that she's going to be fine.

And then…

Everything goes wrong.

When Kosuke was still living in Karuizawa, she heard classical music once a blue moon. It was a thing of the past, she thought—people don't listen to classical music anymore for the same reason they don't use gramophones. Of course, that was just typical teenage thinking—ew, old stuff—that she's grown out of. She even has a soft spot for "Clair de Lune."

The funny thing is that even if it's "outdated," classical music shares something in common with the present-day radio hits:

If you listen to them over and over and over, you eventually get sick of them.

It's nothing against Shostakovich. It's just that Kosuke has heard "The Second Waltz" so many times now it doesn't even sound like a song anymore.

Yet somehow she still manages to get so lost in it—or rather the rhythm of her steps—that she doesn't realize she has company until it's suddenly silent.

Kosuke turns, arms still raised on her invisible partner's shoulders, to see Kyoya with his hand still on the pause button.

"Kyo—?! When did you get here?"

"Just a moment ago." He doesn't look at her as he says it, instead admiring the high ceiling and polished floors. It's the first time he's ever been here, and it's strange, but not as strange as she thought it would. Maybe because this isn't even her home.

"Why are you here?"

"Tamaki sent here for a status report." He holds up his phone to her in answer. "Apparently he asked for a recipe for Salmon Guisado and it was much too short for you."

Kosuke tilts her head sheepishly. "I do usually take fifteen paragraphs at least."

"So he sent me here to make sure you aren't having a nervous breakdown. I'd planned to just take a picture and leave it at that, but now that you're dancing with invisible people, I'm thinking he may have been right."

"Ha, ha, ha. You're so funny." Kosuke takes advantage of the interruption to kick off her heels. Knowing that he's here "on business" and not just dropping by makes sense, but that doesn't make him any more welcome right now. "I couldn't more obviously be practicing!"

Kyoya ticks up a brow. "Did my interrupting upset you that much?"

"No, the fact that you not only lied to me, but then made fun of me, upset me so much!" Kosuke would have left it at that, but realizing she's left the door wide open for some drawled snipe about not explaining, adds, "You told me that no one would get angry with me if I stepped on their toes while we were dancing!"

He takes a moment to comprehend. "Don't tell me that actually happened?"

"Yes! And if I'm not fit to dance in the Bolshoi Theatre by the next party—"

Kosuke almost slips, so almost, she nearly feels it in her legs—like walking on slick ice. She was going to say Shigeo is going to cut my head off, when no one, let alone Kyoya, is supposed to know that she and her father are about as close as North Pole is to the South. There's nothing to do about it, and it'll only make everyone worry about her.

She's spared from falling by Kyoya cutting her off. "Slow down. What happened?"

So she explains, but not after giving one of her heels a kick across the floor.

Kosuke had been at the sixtieth birthday party of Raiden Maekawa, who is such an Italophile that walking through the doors of his villa had teleported her to the shores of Sicily. Between her talks with the guests, Kosuke would see how many mosaics she could find, on the walls and floors and sometimes in the tiniest nooks.

There weren't many people of Kosuke's age in attendance, but Thoki Maekawa, Raiden's youngest grandson, was one of them. From a distance Kosuke thought he was the poster child of a gentleman, soft-spoken and chivalrous (and sporting a pocket watch, which he somehow managed to seem trendy). Kosuke had figured they'd have to talk at some point, but was still caught off-guard when he'd asked her for a dance.

Because somehow, Kosuke had been taught the number of times you ha to someone's joke (one ha if it was just a little jest, two ha's to a real joke, but three ha's bordered on flirty) but not how to ballroom dance.

Her mind had been in turmoil as Thoki led her to the floor, but her shaking fingers stilled when she saw the other dancers. Had she expected them to tango? They were gliding around, shoes hardly making sound on their falls, and Kosuke could have laughed at herself for being so worried for nothing.

As it turns out, she could not have possibly worried enough.

"I don't know what happened!" She's not sure if Kyoya can hear her through her hands, but she isn't going to come out of hiding. "I was like a baby learning how to walk! I stepped on his toes so many times I lost count! And he was getting angrier and angrier…He didn't say anything, but once the song was over, he bolted!"

See, Kosuke fully expects Kyoya to understand. She cannot recall how many times he's said that appearances matter. How important their connections are! He should just be grateful that she knows the severity of her mistake, to spare him from having to tell her!

Instead:

"Stop laughing!"

He pretends to cough into the back of his palm, but people don't smirk when they cough, and why did Kosuke ever expect grace from him?

"I'm not—laughing." Finally he gains a hold of himself and stands straighter. He's not smirking, but he's not not smirking. "But just so I'm clear, you're not joking?"

"No."

His lips twitch exactly once, and then he shakes his head. "I understand why you're embarrassed, but I wouldn't obsess over it. It would take much more than one bad dance to start a civil war, I assure you."

Kosuke tries to think of a way to convince him without conveying too much.

I wouldn't worry about it as much if Thoki hadn't gone to his grandfather and complained about me, and if Raiden hadn't joked to Shigeo about it. I'm embarrassed, sure, but I'm also terrified, because when we were driving home Shigeo told me that snails make faster progress than me, and that if this is what he can expect of me, then clearly he made the wrong choice and should just send me back to Karuizawa.

No, there's no way to sugarcoat that, is there?

"Still. I'd rather not be known as the girl who crushes toes."

Kyoya looks over his shoulder to the massive arching doorway he entered from, and just as Kosuke is about to shoo him away—thinking he's trying to figure out how to politely leave now that he's not needed—he says, "Would you like some help?"

Despite his previous ribbing, he's genuine now. Though she still hesitates. "Do you have some pointers?"

"What I meant is that an actual person might be easier to dance with than thin air."

Of course that's what he meant, you idiot!

It's help served on a silver platter—he's been taking lessons since childhood, hasn't he?—yet Kosuke still hesitates. If having him in her not-home feels strange, then is she going to be able to deal with him in her personal space? Holding one hand and putting the other on her waist? She almost wishes she had some kind of chart for their relationship to know if they've progressed enough for this to be okay.

These doubts are dismissed for two reasons: she was okay dancing with an utter stranger, and this is far too dire a situation to worry about personal space. "If you want to, I guess. If you're not busy."

Kyoya sets his bag down and taps on her phone until "The Second Waltz" begins again. As he does, Kosuke slides her wretched heels back on, and when she's standing upright again Kyoya is waiting for her.

Once they join hands, Kosuke is waiting for awkwardness to hit them like a freight train. For a moment she jumps forward in time, and they're not looking at each other, and her arms are stiff to soreness, and there's enough space between their chests for a third person.

This flustered torture does not come. It's not comfy, but as his hand comes to her waist and hers to his shoulder, she does not feel caged. And just in case that feeling tries to start, she focuses on little things to ground herself—the space between their feet, the surprising broadness of his shoulders, a strand of hair falling into her eyes.

"Alright." Kyoya readjusts their fingers, and his voice is softer, wary of their proximity. "Now just follow me."

"Right. Um, just—I'm sorry? In advance. If I step on you."

"It sounds to me like your dance partner was being overdram—Nevermind."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!"

It's so wrong how the music just keeps on playing while Kosuke while Kyoya grits his teeth to powder at his probably-misshapen toes.

"I'm sorry," she whimpers again.

"It's fine," he sighs, not sounding very fine at all.

"I'm sorry…"

"You're just very—heavy-footed."

"I'm sorry!"

Kyoya tests his weight on his ruined foot a few times, then beckons her closer once more. "Once isn't going to kill me. Now let's try again. Just try to keep your rhythm go—hngh!"

"Let's stop, let's stop!" She can't waltz, but she can apparently tap dance: doing a little clattering jig as she's caught between fetching him some ice or staying with him. "I'll figure it out myself!"

"No." It comes out as a wheeze, followed by a cough, followed by a snipped, "You did try to warn me. Let's try again. Slowly."

"Are you sure?" Even after he nods, Kosuke tells herself that if she gets one more strike, she's sending him out of here. He came to see if she was okay and is going to leave by crawling out of the door. "I'm not trying to hurt you, I promise."

"I know. Just take it slow—slower. Slower. Alright."

"The Second Waltz" sounds like a rave at the pace they're going now, but the point is made at Kosuke's next move forward: slow as molasses, she still manages to bring her foot down upon his. At least they correct it before his toes get mangled further.

"Your stride there is too long," Kyoya assesses. "You'll be moving, but not that much. Try to do it shorter."

Kosuke carves that into her mind. "Alright. Shorter steps."

"Let's try again."

They do, but this time they stumble—Kyoya pulling her forward when her foot is still behind, and in her staggering not only does she step on him again, but she slams her cheek into the lapel of his blazer.

Kyoya doesn't bother to tell her it's fine and Kosuke doesn't bother with another pathetic apology. It's nothing short of amazing when he still—still, when his shoes are probably filled with blood now—stays where he is and says, "That stride wasn't long enough."

"No kidding!"

"At the risk of sounding trite, I think the issue is that you're not 'feeling' the music."

"'Feeling the music'?"

"Dances have steps and patterns, but treating it like a formula won't make you a good dancer."

Kosuke looks down at her feet, thinking, That kind of makes sense.

"I don't think I can get it out of my head. Now any time a waltz is played, all I'm going to hear is 'one-two-three, one-two-three.'"

"Try to distract yourself otherwise," he says, already pulling her to him again and gliding seamlessly into the song before she can even brace herself.

She stumbles again, not as catastrophically, and huffs, "Such as?"

"Dance partners usually don't turn down conversation."

"Alright." One-two-three, one-two-three… "Do you have a riveting topic in mind?"

He takes three more steps and another stumble to answer. "Are you truly that worried that one bad dance is going to ruin your reputation?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"I'm just trying to understand. When I said appearances matter, I didn't realize you were going to take it like this."

She hopes that standing this close, he doesn't hear her teeth grind. "I'm not worried about being banished from the country, it's just embarrassing and I'd rather it not happen again."

"What's intriguing to me is that I can't find out where you draw the line. For one thing you say you don't care what others think, and then for another you're going blue. Why is that?"

It's not without the teasing, but his curiosity seems real. What's upsetting, though, is that it's a spot-on observation.

She doesn't care if some unseen hypothetical person judges her for wearing sneakers that don't match her dress. It's near-impossible not to care when she can see them, staring at her and Thoki, stifling their laughter behind her hands. Or even outside of that, when she mispronounces a company name, or doesn't know where the Seychelles are. The frowns, the head-to-toe looks.

Kosuke thought she was made of stronger stuff, but apparently not. Even now, humiliation burns in her cheeks. Probably there is no shortage of people who thinks she is stupid, awkward, clumsy…

After stumbling once again, she answers, "Maybe I was just wrong."

"How so?"

"Maybe I should care about everything. Maybe what I thought wasn't that big of a deal actually is."

Far away, she probably wouldn't have noticed how the upward tilt of his mouth has faded. "Can you elaborate?"

"What I'm saying is that if I had one bad dance at a high school party back in Karuizawa, I'd be embarrassed but I'd get over it at some point. But it's kind of hard to get over it when it happens in front of a bunch of people who are older and richer and just better than you."

"Better?"

"Yes." Not trusting herself to take her arm off his shoulder, she blows that strand away from her eyes. "I can practice take as many classes as I can; it's not going to change the fact that I'm just different from everyone else there."

He hums. "You sound like Haruhi." When she looks up at him, he explains, "Rich people this, rich people that…"

"It's not just about being rich, it's just the expectations. If I don't know who this person I've never met before is, or if I look at a vase and don't know exactly who made it, then I'm not 'good enough.' I'm not 'trying hard enough.'" She realizes that, just as you don't know how late it's getting until you see how dark it is outside, her tone had slipped into complaining without her realizing. This time it's her mouth and not her feet that stumbles. "I'm being whiny. That's not what I—"

"It sounds like you've been dealing with rather judgmental people. I'm guessing Thoki hasn't been the first to make you feel judged?"

"I'm not trying to complain to you."

"Then don't. Just be honest."

She doesn't want to. Kyoya didn't agree to be her personal therapist, but she knows he isn't going to let her drop it. It's annoying to be picked apart but endearing, she guesses, that he seems like he really does care. Or is interested, anyway.

"Just to be clear, I'm not trying to say that you're all just a bunch of rich snobs or whatever."

"Alright."

"I'm just embarrassed. Pure and simple. I know it's really not that big of a deal, but whenever I go somewhere, and I don't know anything, and I can't talk to anyone right…"

She trails off and almost reiterates that she's not complaining, really she's not, but Kyoya has decided he's heard enough. "I think that's a completely valid reaction. For what it's worth, I am sorry if this has been an…uncomfortable process."

Taken aback, she stammers, "I-It hasn't been, really—"

"Have you ever heard of something called the 'spotlight effect'?"

She shakes her head.

"It's when a person thinks they're being focused on when they actually aren't. For some people it's occasional. They do something embarrassing in public, like drop something or trip, and think that anyone and everyone is laughing at them when they're not. For others, they think they're constantly being watched and judged when they're really just another face in the crowd." He pauses. To let it sink in, she guesses. "I'm not saying you shouldn't care whatsoever what people think about you, but I wouldn't worry about being condemned for simple things. If someone asks for your favorite handbag designer and you can't answer, do you think they'll remember that forever? That in fifty years from now, they're going to be telling their friends about the girl who didn't have a favorite handbag designer?"

Just the fact that she can laugh shocks Kosuke to her core. She didn't think it'd be possible to do it today. "Fair enough."

"Honestly, I can agree with you. If someone does judge so harshly like that, then that says more about them than you. I know that isn't going to instantly make you feel at home now, but I hope that helps."

"It does. Thank you."

She means it, she really does, but her point still stands, though, that Kyoya not only isn't obliged to help her with something so serious, but that it would be too much for anyone to process all at once. She'd already stupefied him once before when she introduced him to Airi and Sugimoto…

…where she wasn't wholly truthful to him. Again.

"As a side note," he goes on, "you just danced through a whole song without trouble."

No way.

No way!

She rewinds, and yes, she did just complete a whole waltz without counting her steps or measuring her strides. She waltzed like an actual human being.

"Looks like you just needed a distraction after all," he says, obviously amused at how she's gaping down at their feet.

"I did! Oh my gosh, I did! Thank you s—Sorry! Sorry, sorry!"

She can't even happy-dance without stepping on feet! Kyoya grits his teeth, definitely chipping some in the process, but again just insists, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to sit down?"

"Yes."

"Do you want ice?"

"Yes."

So by the time "The Blue Danube" begins, Kyoya is sitting in one of the chairs pushed against the wall with an ice pack resting on the top of his foot. Kosuke thinks about turning the music off, but thinks the silence would be worse. She at least disrupts the rhythm to apologize one last time.

"I wouldn't dissuade you from giving a fair warning to your next dance partner."

"Noted. Erm…Thank you. A lot. I really appreciate it."

His hand stops mid-reach to the icepack, and he looks up at her (probably the first time he's done so, him and his height). Then he says "You're welcome" and nothing more, simple but earnest. Kosuke guesses that he changed his mind about taking the icepack off, because he leaves it there.

He leaves not long after (just…kind of limping), and Kosuke makes a quip that she hopes it'll be a while until she's asked to dance again.

Which turns out to not be the case.

At all.

Now, Kosuke stands outside of the estate of of Aki—Akamine—Akiyama—Whatever, some other rich person whose name is Kosuke supposed to know for no reason. If she has her math right, in just a minute it will be exactly 144 hours since she was last asked to dance. Just—144 hours! Subtract 40 hours for sleep, maybe 60 hours of school, and what, even more for eating and transit and—

It's not enough time to be asked to dance again!

The door opens again, spilling golden light out into the night, and Kosuke tries to cower behind a trellis. Then she sees raven hair and frameless glasses, and is equal parts relieved and annoyed.

"You can't hide out here forever" is his greeting.

She considers countering with I'm not, but doesn't want to sound petulant, so she chooses the (infinitely more petulant) response of, "Yes I can."

He at least shuts the door behind him before he walks to her. Kosuke, just embracing her childishness now, inches behind the trellis a little more so there's an barrier of white wood and ivy between them. His lips twitch to undoubtedly comment on it, but they stay closed, and he stays on his side.

They didn't come together, but they're together now, as it's impossible not to be when you're engaged. Kosuke hasn't even gone inside yet, not after taking one look and seeing that there are much more young men here than at the last party—young men who probably want to make good impressions on Kyoya Ootori's new fiancée by offering a dance. There are more people here, period, more people to watch her and laugh at her.

Kosuke had told Kyoya to go in without her, lying that she was going to call her siblings when she really needed to prepare herself. She took five minutes. Then ten. Now twenty. No doubt there has to be a stir now. "Isn't Shigeo's daughter here?" someone is probably saying. "I thought I saw her earlier…"

At least when she was alone she only felt like she was seven years old. Now that Kyoya's here, she feels like she's three.

If she knows anything about Kyoya so far, it's that he's definitely not happy with her right now. In fact, she's probably undoing a lot of their progress with this little tantrum of hers. He's surely stewing over the fact that he's getting married to a child.

Kyoya leans his head around the trellis, and Kosuke braces herself for some comment or another about it.

"Is there anything I can say that will help?"

It's not without a sigh, but for him? He might as well have hugged her while he was at it.

Kosuke stares at him until she realizes that she is—then she looks off at nothing in particular so she can think.

Their dance lesson should have made her more confident, but no dice. Just seeing everyone here made a notion that was already in her head explode in size.

If she can't do this, what can she do? She can't dance at parties, but she can run companies? She wishes she could brush Shigeo's comments off, but he's right and she knows it. This inability to literally face the music is going to be the end of her.

Kosuke leans around the trellis, too, and for just a moment their faces are a little too close—but they quickly back away from one another and say nothing of it.

"Tell me," she says, "that I'm being stupid."

"I'm sorry?"

"Tell me I'm being stupid."

Any other time, she'd laugh at how stumped he looks. "You're…being stupid."

"Like you mean it!"

"You're being stupid."

"Because it's just dancing."

"It is just dancing."

"Okay." Kosuke takes a deep breath, reflating like a limp balloon, and steps forward. "Let's go."

As soon as she steps through the doorway, the act is on. Kyoya Ootori and Kosuke Nakahara, besotted betrotheds. Yet the wedding talk is short—Kyoya had told her to expect that at birthdays, weddings, and other "personal" events, where it'd be rude to steal the spotlight.

Kosuke pretends that this is all just…well, pretend. A costume party. That ballgown? Cheap latex. That vase? Plastic. The aged wine at 50,000 yen a bottle? Grape juice.

It works. Even the niche topics known only to the grossly wealthy don't bother her so much—most of the guests are genuine. They really want to know what she thought of that designer's fall collection, or if she's ever been to the Louvre.

She realizes as she talks that Kyoya had been spot-on about the spotlight syndrome. Even when her ignorance halts the conversation, she doesn't see scorn or contempt on any faces. Perhaps curiosity, perhaps pity, but nothing hateful. It had all been in her head.

The dance floor is still there, impossible to ignore. Once or twice Kosuke thinks a young man is approaching and she frets so hard so quickly, but then he keeps walking. Each time it happens, Kosuke actually feels better, more prepared for when a hand truly is extended to her. She's practiced, it's nothing for her partner to be furious about, and most of all, it is just dancing.

Ironically, she and Kyoya are dancing outside of the floor. They break apart, mingle, and come together again in a rhythm. At this beat, they are two people, and at the next, they are a pair. They don't get to say much to one another, but what little they do does not feel forced.

Faked, obviously, but not forced. It's comfortable. Kosuke is just so happy that they no longer seem to quake under the knowledge that they will be married one day.

Not that they're happy about it, either, just that—

Anyway!

After about an hour, the dance floor crowds thicker and thicker, and it's poor timing that she leaves for the bathroom then. She catches Kyoya's eye as she walks away from the pairs gliding across the room, and tries to explain with her eyes that she really isn't hiding.

When she emerges from the restroom again, she thinks herself lost for a moment. Did she come from the left, or the right?

Just walk, she decides, Follow the noise and you'll make it.

It doesn't take too long at all to hear conversation, but it does take too long to comprehend that it is one conversation. Just two voices, not the buzz of a crowd.

Embarrassed but undiscovered, Kosuke turns away, just hoping that her shoes aren't clicking on the tiles.

Then she hears her name, and stops.

She doesn't want to eavesdrop. If someone catches her, she's not going to have any defense of the pompousness of the rich—they will have every right to think her horribly rude. At the same time…she's human.

"Oh, tell me you're joking!" says one half of the conversation. Kosuke doesn't recognize her by sound. "It was that bad?"

"It was absolutely cartoonish," says the other half, and Kosuke does recognize her. Not twenty minutes ago she was telling Kosuke how important it was for her to see Lucia di Lammermoor the next time it came to the Hyogo Center. "I felt like I was watching one of those asinine things my niece allows her children to watch on the weekends."

"Was she doing it on purpose?"

"She seemed utterly oblivious to it. Imagine being that clumsy and not having the slightest clue!" She laughs, quiet and stifled, a schoolgirl's giggle at a rumor. "I think she's already become a horror story among the young men!"

"Oh, that poor thing," the other says, her sympathy so delighted. "Do you think she'll have any partners tonight?"

"I should think not! I wonder if Kyoya even knows…"

"Please. You think they would call the engagement off just for that?"

"No, but I imagine there will be something about it in the marriage contract!" The lady is so amused that her voice rises dangerously high, then drops into another stifled giggle. "Oh, she seems like a sweet girl, but so…unaware."

"My Kiyota learned how to ballroom dance when he wasn't even ten! It makes you wonder…"

"What else she hasn't a clue about? I'd hate to find out. Poor thing indeed…Poor Kyoya, too!"

"But they seem so in love…"

"Then perhaps they haven't shared a dance after all. At least if he ever winds up in crutches, we'll know what happened!"

Well, Kosuke thinks, so much for that.

Should she care? Or, if she should, should it just be annoyance that these two older women are talking about her like this? Or maybe she should just say that she would do the same; doesn't everyone love some gossip?

She guesses she's a hypocrite, then. Because listening to these strangers snicker at her hurts, pure and simple.

She wasn't just imagining it. People see her, and they judge her. And damn if she wasn't an idiot, thinking she could convince people that she's one of them. She'd pretended this was a costume party, but now she really does feel like a girl dressed as a pretty princess for Halloween.

If Shigeo finds out that people think this way about her—

She stops. She can't fall down that rabbit hole right now. She has to go out and keep pretending and dance—or maybe not dance, if she really is a "horror story," and instead see if she has to ignore how she's avoided, getting exactly what she wished for and hating it.

Kosuke turns to leave, not even thinking about her footfalls. It turns out she doesn't have to, because she doesn't make it a step before colliding with someone.

Had she been in such a stupor that she hadn't heard him coming? Does it matter? He's here now. And judging by his face—a tight jaw, furrowed brow, and gray eyes so icy she can't even look at them—he heard.

See? She almost wants to say. I told you this was a problem. He knows that, though. Probably always did and just told her otherwise to calm her down. Can't do that anymore, now they're going to have to figure out how fix this, because she can't keep embarrassing him.

For some reason she doesn't stumble when his hand pushes into her back—which seems very unfair—and does as he guides her. His hand stays there all the way down the hall, gentle but firm. He won't let her turn back.

Kosuke doesn't even care if the older women hear them, because deep down she knows Kyoya's right and he really just needs to get away. There's a party to return to, roles they must resume now that the intermission is over.

Yet, when they make it back to the ocean of gowns and suits, they stop at the shore. Kyoya's hand falls but he stays close, looking not at her but the waves. Another act. Just a couple taking a quiet moment to enjoy the scene. Kosuke tries to do the same, but no one looks like anyone anymore.

Kyoya speaks so low she almost can't hear him over the violins. "Ignore them. They're just two people."

Finally Kosuke starts to feel something again: guilt. Because she'd just assumed that he was angry at her.

Guilty as she is, she also knows that Kyoya is just wrong this time. It's not just two people, but she isn't going to argue about this—she can't—and just says, "Yeah."

"There's no reason for them to talk about you like that," he insists. "Like you did something unforgivable. It's childish."

She's too surprised to stop herself from looking his way. Calling Thoki overdramatic wasn't that surprising, but hearing him talk this way of two older people seems near-blasphemous for him. He seems to realize this, because the next time he blinks, his eyes stay shut for just a little while longer.

"You've been nothing but polite since you arrived." Finally he looks her way, for no longer than a moment. "You're doing good."

Now Kosuke doesn't know what to think. Seriously, who is Kyoya Ootori?

She keeps looking at his profile as if that will make the riddle that is himself easier to figure out. Forget herself, where does he draw the line? In their first real conversation, he'd done naught but scold her for embarrassing him for just this.

Then again…that had been ages ago, and he'd been running on anger. Or maybe he really did think that way before, and had a change of heart.

And maybe Kosuke projected onto him a bit. It could be that she even wanted him to be mad so that she could have something to lash out at.

What really matters is that he is angry on her behalf, perhaps unable to defend her for "propriety," but still trying to tell her he's on her side. And it's endearing. And it's appreciated. But it still surprises her.

She keeps her eyes on his profile, not caring if it's breaking the act. He keeps his eyes ahead and looks completely at ease, but she sees something she can't name and knows he's anything but.

Kosuke wants to say, I think I'm really starting to like you, but who are you, anyway?

She remembers the two women, meaning she forgot the two women. At least the hurt is turning into annoyance now, pity even. At least she grew out of that kind of gossip in high school.

A woman not too far from them is guided to the dance floor, and though she could try and see if she's avoided like the plague, she doesn't. She wouldn't even blame them anyway.

If they laugh at her, well, Kosuke would probably do the same. If they pity her, then that's at least some kind of kindness. If they sneer at her, then that's just stupid.

She leans a bit closer to Kyoya. "Do you want to dance?"

The song finishes. Some partners disband with bows and thanks, and others stay together, waiting. Newcomers make their way forward.

Kyoya only asks, "Are you sure?"

She almost answers that she wasn't asking for herself, but for him, because surely he hasn't forgotten the icepack. But he's asking for her, and Kosuke has already made up her mind, if only to prove once and for all that it is nothing.

To answer him, she extends her hand. Probably her teachers would screech that she's doing the man's part, but not only is Kyoya quiet as he takes it—she spots the corner of his mouth twitching.

The only thing that ruins it is that the next song ends up being "The Second Waltz," which causes some grumbling on her end. She doesn't know if they're being watched because she doesn't look. They dance through two songs. In one her foot knocks against his and in the other they stumble. Both times, she laughs.