bored411: I know I have to wait to actually build their relationship, but I'm giddy to get to Kosuke and Kyoya communicating their problems to each other lol. Thank you!
scars from the sun: not for a while, unfortunately. Many chapters to go!
"I'm very sorry to hear the news, Kyoya."
"I never would have imagined it. They seemed like such an unbreakable pair."
"Frankly, I'm not concerned in the slightest. I know the Ootoris are just as strong as ever."
What Kyoya wouldn't give for some silence.
This symphony of sympathy follows him everywhere. All the details he's been asked to share are just the effects, "How do they plan to work together now?" and "Will this have any effect on the structure of Ootori Medical?" Nothing too invasive, although more than one has hint-hint, nudge-nudged that they would like to know more.
It's so exhausting because it's familiar. First DomenMed, then his engagement. Something monumental has happened with the Ootori family and now it's all anyone sees when they look at him.
It is only with the others that he truly feels like a person. Hani was quite upset thinking that Kyoya was quite upset, but he's taken his reassurance that Kyoya is fine. The twins mention it in passing, then they show him their new idea for Tamaki's wedding suit, a technicolor nightmare of stripes and flowers and zebra print. Not Kyoya's sense of humor, but he supposes he appreciates them trying to cheer him up.
Tamaki has surprised him with obeying his request. For all the messages and calls that frenzy his phone, none are from the prince. Haruhi tells him he's not happy about it, but he'd rather die than cause Kyoya any more trouble.
"But just for the record," she'd told him, voice crackling from all the way across the ocean, "once he finds out we talked, he's going to grill me."
"Oh, I'm aware. Apologies for turning you into the messenger."
Haruhi had paused for a moment, and then asked, "Before I tell him that you're okay, can you tell me first, though?"
If Kyoya didn't know any better, he'd have said that there was a hint of frustration in her tone. He's thanked it before, but he'll thank her absence again, for making it harder to see through him.
"I'm perfectly fine. This will hardly change anything. My parents fully intend to continue as they have been."
"Okay, sure, but…Still."
Kyoya could chalk it up to their different backgrounds, how he's focusing on the business side of things and she's focusing on the emotional. He won't, though, because he should at least own up to how he's dodging the matter.
"To be frank, this wasn't a surprise," he'd said, which was true in one way but a lie in another. "Everyone's making this out to be a tragedy when it's not. Just give it time and everything will return to normal."
Haruhi had made a considering, but agreeable, sound. "I guess you're right. But it's still okay to be upset."
"I know, but there's nothing to be upset about."
After they'd bid each other farewell, call-me-later, tell-Kosuke-I-said-hi, Kyoya had decided that at the end of the day, he wasn't upset about this. Surprised or not. He'd noticed before that Jin and Yoshio's marriage wasn't what it used to be, but that change had not been instant. Kyoya just hadn't noticed how far his parents were pulling apart until there were mountains between them. This may even be a good thing. He can't say the same for Yoshio, but Jin certainly seems happier now.
It's the other million factors to it that's still dragging him down. The secrecy and the closed lips and the expectation to carry on without discussion.
The silver lining of it all is that, from Kyoya's experience, dramas of this nature follow a rhythm. It takes maybe a week for the worst of it to pass. That's when the divorce is the first thing to come out of people's mouths when they greet him; it's when people whisper behind their hands and stare at his back as he passes. Another week, and it starts to fade just so—something that people have to remember, faded instead of fresh. And week by week by week, it'll peter out, until at last Kyoya will only have to hear of it during catch-up conversations with people he hasn't seen for some time.
This is how Kyoya goes through every day, followed by stares and whispers—reminding himself to just wait it out.
Though he has to admit, he's starting to feel a pressure building up within him. When he does talk about it, it's meaningless dismissals that hardly scratch the surface. "Thank you for your kind words." "Our family is doing well." "My parents will remain formidable business partners."
At home, he has to stay quiet. His mother will dodge any hint of it amd his brothers have made it clear they will never discuss it. Even Fuyumi, who has never hesitated to speak her mind, stays away from it like an opposing magnet. It seems it's so upsetting that even she wants to ignore it.
So he can't talk to strangers, and he can't talk to his family, and that leaves his friends. They don't urge him to talk of it, don't ask questions, but they hint invitations to him. Open invitations, which Kyoya wants to take them up on.
And also doesn't.
It's not him. The idea of sitting down with someone to vent out his frustrations just seems like such a pathetically not-Kyoya thing to do. Even if he appreciates now more than ever why it's called "venting".
Kyoya is rather miserable at the moment, and though most of it is out of his hands, some of the misery he's holding onto himself. He will not let any of this chest-constricting pressure free, and thus his only resort is to find distractions. Once upon a time, his work at Ootori Medical would do just that—but it's impossible to be there and not feel Yoshio's shadow looming over him at any moment. The hospital always has a cacophony of sound, ringing phones, rolling wheels, elevator chimes, but not one of them is his father's voice talking to him.
Ironically, he has his father to thank for now. Not only is Kyoya socializing, he's doing it somewhere he actually wants to: a gallery for the art students at Ouran.
Kyoya was looking forward to tonight, which seems laughable considering he used to feel as though he was dying every second that he wasn't in his office. He hadn't been lying to Kosuke when he'd said that art was not an interest of his, and yet he has always found true enjoyment at these galleries. The University's are somehow even more grandiose than the high school's, so he can spend hours strolling through the halls and forgetting for a while.
Yes, Kyoya was quite looking forward to tonight. Until he'd learned that he was going to be having company.
"Oh, just look at this place!" Jin sings as she click-click-clicks across the rosy tiles. Even at night, the roses are bursting in scarlet and pink, not a single brown petal to be found. Jin reaches out for some blossoms as if to pluck them, but controls herself and pulls back. "All the places that I've been to, and I promise you, Ouran has to be one of the prettiest!"
"It hasn't changed a bit," sighs Fuyumi. Her neck is craned up to look at the tall arches over their heads. "Just like I remember it!"
Kyoya has to take her arm and swivel her before she collides with a marble pillar. "If you keep walking like that, you'll hit your head hard enough to forget."
"Kyoya, you need to let me know each and every time there's an open event like this." Jin tugs at the high ruffled collar of her dress as fashionably as she can. She'd insisted on wearing it despite the warm summer night. "I want to come back here as many times as possible. When's the next time I can?"
"The soonest event now is the—"
"You know what, it doesn't matter! Buy me a ticket!"
"Yes, Mother."
Kyoya goes to twist his cufflink for the millionth time, but is stopped by bejeweled fingers wrapping around his wrist.
"Kyoya," Jin says, slow and careful, "I know that you're worried about the gossip. But I need you to remember that I can take care of myself. It's going to take more than the whispers behind hands to tear me down, you know that!"
Kyoya glances past his mother's smiling face to Fuyumi's, which is anything but. They lock eyes for the briefest of moments, and then Fuyumi turns forward once more. She won't be colliding into anything else—her eyes are blazing a hole into the tiles.
"Of course, Mother." Kyoya pulls on his wrist in just the right way that Jin only thinks it's to straighten his cuff. "I know that."
The rest of the walk is silent, but only because it's so short. The open doors spill light and sound into the night. The closer they come, the louder the score: conversation, clinking plates, silky violin notes. Kyoya's feet twitch to move faster—once he's inside, his mother will certainly leave him behind to mingle.
Once they're in, familiarity soothes Kyoya's nerves. There are the same people in the same pressed suits and flowing dresses drinking from the same glasses and eating from the same silver platters while listening to the same music from the same instruments. But of course, the art is entirely new, alien blending with nostalgic. First and foremost is the collaboration piece by the senior class, a piece that Kyoya heard has been awarded many times over. It is two sculpted figures, pale and faceless. Both are tilting a pot, but instead of water, out pours flowers, hundreds upon hundreds, each one glossy and vibrant and teeming with life.
It is beautiful and intriguing, and though Kyoya would love to stand and admire the craft, he has to take care of the obligatory chitchat. A few people greet him right away. Some are students, some aren't. Kyoya nods and smiles and greets them in turn, until he hears two very familiar voices chorus, "Kyoya!"
They don't come together, but the twins appear before him at the same time. Their suits have the signature Hitachiin flora: Hikaru's suit white with sparse cherry blossoms, Kaoru's a rich blue and teeming with tulips and bluebells. Kyoya sees eyes admiring them as much as the art on the walls.
"I was wondering if coming to the camping trip was just…an episode," says Hikaru, looking him up and down. "But now you're here, too? Something isn't right."
Kaoru looks left and right, then leans forward to gravely whisper, "Kyoya, are you becoming…sociable?"
"Perhaps I should've checked if you two would be here before I bought my ticket." Kaoru and Hikaru reel back, clutching invisible pearls on their necks. "I always come to the art galleries. It'd be more unusual if I wasn't here tonight."
"That's not true," protests Kaoru. "I can't remember the last time we saw you here!"
"That may be because for the past year, you two have been spent the entire evening playing that prank on Tamaki."
Fuyumi frowns. "What prank?"
"They'd set up a fake painting in one of the halls, and whenever Tamaki came to look at it, they'd stand behind it and look through the eyes at him. So Tamaki went screaming to everyone that the painting was haunted."
"We stopped when we were asked to," says Hikaru. "It was immature, I'll admit. But, it holds the record for our longest con on the Boss. Three galleries over six months."
The twins give each other a quick and discreet low-five before Hikaru throws his arms open and exclaims, "Anyway, Fuyumi!" Fuyumi laughs as she leans into him. She reaches around him to give Kaoru a squeeze while she's at it. "It's been so long since we've seen you. We were worried Kyoya's been rubbing off on you."
"You two are running low on material," Kyoya snipes, but all three ignore him.
"We do all need to get together more often. There's no one else in my life to talk about fashion with. Kyoya doesn't understand me, Tetsu only nods along to make me happy…So lonely." Fuyumi lets out a sigh deeper than the ocean, but perks up the next instant, taking Hikaru's hands to stretch out his arms. "And I don't get my sneak peeks anymore, I just see your latest pieces with the rest of the world. Look at these! They're gorgeous."
"Speaking of 'gorgeous…'" says Kaoru, finally turning to Jin.
"Oh, you stop," Jin protests. And then she holds out her hand for Kaoru to kiss her knuckles. Fifteen seconds through the door and she's already preening. "It's no wonder that club of yours was so popular. I can just imagine all the girls you had swooning at your feet."
"Hundreds, but who's counting?" Jin gives Kaoru's chest a scolding slap. He only chuckles. "I remember when Boss asked us to do it. Hikaru and I both thought he was crazy."
"Speaking of…" Kyoya scans the room but does not find the golden crown. "He's here, isn't he? Or did you two succeed in scarring him forever?"
"He's here. Just wait; he'll sniff you out like a bloodhound soon enough." Hikaru throws a thumb over his shoulder. "By the way, I don't know if you're looking for her, but—"
"KOSUKE!"
Everyone in the room—and maybe a five-mile radius—jumps a foot in the air. Including the members of the band, and their instruments cry out. Many hors-d'oeuvres fall to the velvet carpet. Fuyumi had been reaching for a flute of champagne, and it's hard to tell whether it's her or the server that sends it splashing.
No one looks more shocked—or terrified—than the poor woman whose name was just shrieked like an air raid siren. Kosuke looks for a moment like she's going to run for her life, heels be damned. Kyoya wouldn't blame her.
Then the terror clears from her eyes, and they narrow at the woman who is just now holding a hand over her mouth, as if to stop any more earth-quaking sounds from coming out. Kyoya can see gears turning in her head from across the room, but only when she looks at him does he see the lightbulb.
Not only does Kosuke not know a single thing regarding Jin's divorce from her husband, she's never even met the woman.
It all may only last for five seconds, but those five seconds feel like five eons. Kosuke is staring at Jin, Jin is staring at Kosuke, and everyone else is staring at them. Kyoya has never, ever felt this much dread in his lifetime.
Everyone's going to realize they've never met before, and everyone's going to think that's so strange and wonder why that is, and then they're just going to take it as more proof that the Ootori family is becoming more dysfunctional by the day.
But relief comes. Not in a great wave, but it comes.
Because Kosuke seems to have that same realization at the same time. For a second, she flounders. What does she even call Jin? Her first name would be disrespectful, "Miss-Anything" would be too distant, and she's not a "Missus" anymore.
So finally Kosuke settles on, "You!"
Jin's smile is shaky. But relieved. She crosses the distance between them, never minding the eyes that follow.
Whatever confidence Kosuke had been building up comes crashing down when Jin pulls her into a hug. Probably no one thinks much of how she goes as stiff as a rock, how her fingers curl as if in rigor mortis, how her lips twitch to keep smiling without the want to. But Kyoya sees it. And Kyoya feels guilty for it.
Kosuke gives into the embrace at last, but no sooner does Jin pull back and take her face into her hands.
"I had no idea you were going to be here tonight," says Jin. "And just look at you! I think you're getting more attention than the art!"
"Oh, thank you," Kosuke says with a discordant laugh. The discomfort sounds just like flattery. "That's so kind."
Slowly, the onlookers recover from their obliterated eardrums. A few smile in the direction of the two women—a sweet (if not shrill) interaction between soon-to-be mother and daughter. Conversation creeps back into the air, and the band members take up their instruments again. An attendee comes in to sweep up the smoked salmon and caviar that had been spilled in alarm.
Jin weaves her arm through Kosuke's and gently pulls her along. Kosuke gives into the touch, but it's still terribly awkward. Though to be fair, trying not to trip over the silk train of Jin's dress isn't helping.
"Now, let me steal you away for a bit," Jin says. It's almost scary how she speaks to Kosuke and their audience at the same time. "There are so many things I need to tell you."
By the time the two of them disappear into one of the many halls, hardly anyone is paying them mind. Everything returns to how it was before Jin's impression of a banshee.
Except now Kyoya can't even be slightly relieved that she's gone. Not when he's worrying about the poor woman she dragged away.
Kyoya peels his gaze away from the doorway when Kaoru lets out a low whistle. "I don't think my mother has ever been that happy to see me."
"Seriously, Kyoya, you must have hit the jackpot." Hikaru tilts his head to the side, raises an eyebrow. "Oh, maybe that's why they're getting married. Maybe Amida Health is just a cover story, and they're just getting married because Miss Jin wants Kosuke for a daughter."
"Do you think it was her cooking?" adds Kaoru. "Maybe Miss Jin ate something Kosuke made, wanted to keep her around, and realized she had an unmarried son around Kosuke's age."
Turning to Kyoya, they both ask, "Is that it?"
While Kyoya meets their gazes without flinching, it's mostly due to the need not to look at Fuyumi. He can feel her eyes on his skin—confused, questioning, maybe a bit annoyed. The last she'd heard, Jin had yet to meet Kosuke.
"I fail to see how that is any of your business," Kyoya says, with just the right mixture of annoyance and dismissal for his desired effect: the twins' smiles falling right off as they wonder, Wait, REALLY? Afterw, he turns to Fuyumi and tells her, "I'll let you catch up with Hikaru and Kaoru. I'm going to try to find Tamaki."
"Alright," Fuyumi mumbles, but as he turns away and she takes sip of champagne, her eyes follow him. Hikaru and Kaoru launch into their ravings—a magazine spread set for next month, their idea for floral designs in the fall and winter, a possible extension into clothing for children. It won't be enough to distract Kyoya's sister. He will have questions to answer later.
One step into the next hall, and Kyoya hears his name called again. Hani sticks his arm into the air and waves for him. He's growing, but he still has a long way to go before anyone looks down, not straight, to find him in a crowd. Unsurprisingly, he's with Reiko and Mori. Kyoya makes his way over to them.
"Hey!" Hani does a small bounce as he comes closer. "I didn't know you were coming tonight!"
Kyoya swallows the bitter taste in his mouth. He really is known as a hermit. "I always do. I don't believe I've seen you here before, however."
"Takashi and I are usually too busy to come, but this year we made sure to because Reiko's part of it. Isn't it pretty?"
Hani steps aside so he can see the painting better. It's probably half of Kyoya's height, pure monochrome. A long-haired girl weeps at the edge of a lake, the tears falling down her cheeks and rippling the water's surface. It is nothing but woe and misery. Kyoya wouldn't have expected anything else from Reiko.
"Very well-done," he compliments, and he means it. A bit too melancholy for his taste, but there's obvious skill in the brush strokes. The surface of the water looks so real, Kyoya thinks his fingers would come back wet if he touched it. "I didn't know you were in one of the art classes."
"I'm not," answers Reiko. She looks no more colorful than her painting—black dress, black gloves, black heels. "They accept outside submissions; they simply aren't guaranteed a place like the art students are."
"I see. Your piece seems deserving."
"The judging committee cried when I showed it to them." Kyoya doesn't think he's ever heard pride in Reiko's voice before.
"Kyoya." Mori's voice rumbles. He nods, and at first Kyoya is confused—is he greeting him only now? Then he realizes Mori is trying to gesture behind him.
Kyoya is thus not startled to find someone there, but their proximity does make his hackles rise. Only when he takes a step back does he realize it's Ayame Jounouchi. He can't recall the last time they've talked to each other. He used to have a few inches over her, but now she's lowering her chin just so to look him in the eyes. Her hair is a cloud of curls, a far cry from the pin-straight look Kyoya remembers her with.
"Kyoya," she sighs. How many times has Kyoya heard his name tonight? "I hope I'm not interrupting."
He isn't going to say yes, you are. You never say yes, you are when someone asks if they're interrupting. But he doesn't want to walk away from the others just yet, and only realizes why after Hani chirps, "Go ahead, Kyoya! We just wanted to say hi."
Then they turn away from him, and the mingling crowd bars him off from them, and then there's only him and Ayame as she bemoans, "I'm sorry to hear about Mr. and Mrs. Ootori's separation."
Annoyance flares in his chest, likes the flames of fire stirring after a new log is tossed in. But, being Kyoya, he nods and smiles and says, "Thank you. But I assure you, everything is well."
"That's good. It's just…"
Ayame brings a hand up to her mouth, stopping herself. She isn't looking at him anymore.
"It's just what?"
"Well…" Her hand leaves her lips to pull on one of her long curls. "I-I don't mean to gossip, Kyoya, really I don't. My mother and I ran into Miss Jin the other day when we were out shopping. Mother mentioned the divorce—nothing unkind, I promise—and it seemed to upset her. I don't know how to describe it, but she made it clear that she didn't want to talk about it. Not that she had to, of course, it's not exactly our business…"
Kyoya has to consider this for a moment.
"This is not a happy matter. However civil my parents' divorce is, it isn't something that's bringing either of them joy. But it is civil regardless, and they will be separating on amicable terms. It will not change their professional relationship with one another."
Ayame nods, but Kyoya isn't giving her his full attention anymore. He sees without looking the eyes that have turned to him. It is the closest he's ever come to implying any negativity towards the matter, and it's blood in the water.
"I see," Ayame says. "Of course, that makes sense. As if we can expect her to be jumping for joy…Still. I just wanted to see if you were well, Kyoya. I know we haven't kept in touch, but…"
Kyoya pauses for just one second too long. It's because he mentally snipes, Actually, when my mother and father decided to divorce, she went on vacation for weeks on end. To the onlookers, it looks like a wall that's finally coming down.
The first shark that comes is Goro Yasui, second son of the Yasui family. They have no company, nothing to have any heirs for, but his father Masa is an architect so renowned that people beg for his artistry all across the globe.
"If it's any consolation," he says, and Kyoya's immediate thought is, Have we ever talked before? "I'm positive that everything will turn out just fine. My parents' divorce was completely civil, too, but it was still something to get used to."
If Kyoya remembers correctly, Goro's parents divorced when he was eight, not twenty-one. Not exactly the same. Still: "Thank you. That's kind of you to say."
"Yeah, there's nothing to worry about." This comes from Miwa Sawaya, only daughter of Chinatsu Sawaya, founder of APHRODITE, a cosmetics company known for their all-natural products. Kyoya knows for a fact they have never talked before. "It's just a storm that will blow through, right? Over before you know it."
"I'm sure it will be, thank you."
Ayame and Goro and Miwa are all smiling at him, sympathy spilling from their lips, and Kyoya thinks he's going to be sick.
It's not just them. Eyes of every shape and color are watching him from afar, pinning him with sympathy and empathy. Some have turned his way. Some are deliberating. Kyoya sees feet twitching to join in the pity party.
Kyoya submits to a night of being coddled, and thinks himself stupid for expecting anything else. It was his fault. One crack was all it took. That's why it's so critical to know what to say years before you say it. That's one of his mantras. Why does he keep forgetting it?
Then he's sent a salvation, from yet another exclamation of his name.
"Kyoya!"
Like the Red Sea, the crowd parts for the Prince, and Kyoya feels invisible shackles fall free of his wrists. Tamaki comes over in smooth strides make quick by his long legs. He is smiling, as always. He is familiar and inviting and warm, as always.
"There you are," he says. "I knew you would come tonight. You never miss the galleries."
Perhaps there are people here who have never talked to Kyoya before, but everyone knows that he and Tamaki Suoh are best friends. So, as the blond comes closer, the others go farther.
"Enjoy your evening, Kyoya," Ayame says, followed by Miwa and Goro's own farewells. Then they disappear as if they only came into existence for him.
Now Kyoya just has to figure out what to say—immediately going against that mantra again. In his defense, this was not how he'd anticipated this. He figured that finally seeing each other again, after everything that's happened, would finally pop the cork on the champagne bottle. Kyoya could ask for space, but he could not ask Tamaki to be at peace with it. Not any more than he could ask the sun not to rise tomorrow.
So Tamaki being as chipper as always, even if it was to save him, throws him off-track. As does pointing out and beckoning with the other arm, saying, "Follow me! There's a piece towards the back that I know you'll enjoy. Chiaroscuro."
Kyoya does not ask after the obvious. Nor does he ask how Tamaki remembered that he liked chiaroscuro art after he mentioned it exactly once—he just lets the warmth in his chest go unspoken.
He follows Tamaki further into the gallery. He is still watched, but passingly, as they see he's with company. But they still watch. Kyoya tries to focus on the passing art, but it's no use. Only staring at the back of Tamaki's head seems to keep him grounded.
It seems like an oddly long time that they walk, deeper and deeper into the gallery. And then out of it. Kyoya finally opens his mouth to protest when Tamaki takes him to foyer, where there's not a soul in sight, but then Tamaki opens the door that leads outside. Still beckoning him forward.
Confused and concerned and above all exhausted, Kyoya complies with nothing more than a sigh. Outside there's one courtyard of many. There are rose bushes and fountains with cherubs, but there are also tables and chairs. It is empty tonight. Shadows ripple in the windows.
It takes him walking halfway to a table to realize Tamaki is not following. He is still standing in the doorway, holding it open.
"Tamaki?"
Tamaki smiles.
"Stay out here and catch your breath for a bit."
Then he leaves.
For a long moment—or maybe even minutes—Kyoya stands there, alone in the courtyard with nothing but the cherubs to keep him company. He can still hear people talking and laughing and living inside, but at the moment there is only Kyoya. Still trying to process what has just happened.
Tamaki had completely defied his expectations. Had rendered Kyoya's brace for impact utterly useless. He did not scream at him or cry for him. He did not wail to Kyoya his heartbreak at being pushed away.
Kyoya had asked Tamaki to leave him be, and Tamaki had complied.
He feels guilty for it. Once again, loving him but thinking so little of him.
Finally he makes his way to one of the empty tables and sits down. He reminds himself of his grandfather Hiro. Every time he sat down, it was with a deep sigh, and Kyoya would almost hear his bones resting into place. Kyoya feels heavy. His joints are rickety and his muscles are frayed.
He sees that Tamaki has slid a potted plant in front of the door—keeping away any guests who just might come out to find Kyoya Ootori sitting by himself. If that doesn't scream I'm upset that my parents are getting divorced, Kyoya doesn't know what does.
He tells himself that he will only take a minute. His absence will be noticed sooner or later. He'll have to come back to the sympathy and empathy and just remember not to falter.
He just doesn't want to. At all. Kyoya doesn't even want to peruse the art anymore. He just wants to go home.
The doorknob suddenly twists.
Kyoya bristles like a startled cat, and in nanoseconds his brain searches for something to say. I wasn't feeling well, I came out for some fresh air. That sounds good. Or will that ask for more sympathy and empathy?
He stops thinking once the door opens and someone steps out.
Kosuke shuts the door behind her faster than the speed of light. Then her head falls against it, and she lets out a breath so long and deep it seems as though she's going to melt.
Then she raises her head again and turns.
And screams.
Kyoya can only sit there (because…what else does he do?) as Kosuke clutches at her heart through the front of her dress and breathes, breathes, breathes. She honestly looks like she's wracked with a heart attack, but when at last Kyoya stands to help her, she fixes him with a glare that sits him back down.
"You scared me!"
Kyoya blinks at her. "I was just sitting here."
"Why?!" she hisses, in a way that doesn't really ask for an answer. She pieces back together slowly, finally letting her heart go and standing upright again. She's watching the shadows in the windows warily, and looks frustrated that she can't put the potted plant back in front of the door. "Sorry, I didn't know you were out here. Just give me a second and I'll go."
She folds her arms and shuts her eyes. Kyoya expects her to take a seat, or maybe lean against the wall, but she keeps herself upright. Maybe afraid she won't be able to get up again.
She seems content to let him be, which he's grateful for, but she seems just as content to pretend she isn't falling to pieces.
Kyoya doesn't know if it's ruder to ignore her or not to. "Did something happen?"
"No," she answers quickly, almost before he's finished. "No, everything's fine. I just need to catch my breath for a second. Crowds."
A reasonable answer, and for a second Kyoya even wonders if his cover for her—during their surprise party, when she was flooded with questions she had no answers to—was correct after all. It's her rush to answer that doesn't convince him.
"It was my mother, wasn't it?"
"No," she answers. Very quickly. Before he's finished talking.
This time she gives up, shoulders somehow sinking even lower. Clearly embarrassed, but she shouldn't be. Even Kyoya doesn't think he'd be able to handle that kind of first greeting with grace.
"I'm sorry," he tells her, and her downcast eyes shoot up at him, "that you didn't meet her until tonight. And that it was like that."
"She's sweet," she rushes again. She closes her eyes for a moment, obviously telling herself to calm down, and continues, "Really sweet. She apologized, too, but mostly she wanted to talk. Asked me a million questions, said we would have to have lunch soon and she wouldn't take no for an answer."
She says this with a laugh. It's kind of her to do so despite how obviously frazzled she is.
"Regardless, I'm sorry you were put on the spot like that. For what it's worth, she wanted to meet you sooner. It was just…difficult to arrange."
She nods and says, "I know." As in, I know you don't want to talk about it. Because she doesn't know anything, because Kyoya hasn't told her.
She's not wrong. Yet, despite being the only person tonight who has given him such a blatant way out, he can't accept it. Not from her.
Kyoya pushes up his glasses that haven't slipped in the slightest and goes on. "I'm also sorry that I didn't warn you beforehand of the divorce. I should've told you as soon as I knew."
She takes her time to reply, which Kyoya is grateful for. He doesn't think he'd be able to handle a quick and dishonest, No, no, it's okay!
As she deliberates, she steps a little closer. Giving up and giving in.
"A heads-up would have been nice," she admits. Her toe twists on the tiles despite her heels. "If only because people are asking me questions."
Kyoya nods, but he also adds, "Even if they weren't, I should've let you know. You'll be part of the Ootori family when we're married. It's not something that can be kept a secret from you."
Kosuke takes this with some relief—that he said the thing she couldn't. Kyoya is watching as she lets go piece by piece.
"At first I thought it wasn't my business, but I guess it is, huh?" She laughs without humor. "But I wasn't angry. Worried, but not angry."
Kyoya recites what he has many times, but tries to make it sound genuine, just for her. "My parents' separation isn't going to change anything for Ootori Medical or Amida Health. You don't need to worry—"
"I meant for you," she cuts in. Her brow furrows, confused, but she explains. "I just thought that you didn't tell me because you were upset about it. Then when they announced it, I just thought you were still upset. That's why I didn't get mad."
Kyoya doesn't even nod. He feels no less guilty—in no small part because he wonders, would he be that forgiving? If Kosuke kept something like that from him, would he give her the benefit of the doubt?
There's no reason to guilt over hypotheticals, Kyoya tells himself. He clears his throat. "Even so. I still want to apologize."
"You're forgiven."
Kosuke keeps looking at him, and Kyoya realizes his mistake. He didn't deny that he was upset. He didn't reassure her.
She turns from him, but only to take a seat beside him, still turned away. They sit in silence for a second, but Kyoya thinks it's because she's just giving him time.
Proven correct when she says, "I'm sorry. Even if it doesn't change our companies any, I can imagine this isn't easy for you."
Another opportunity to deny it. And he almost does.
But he doesn't.
There's no point in it. She obviously knows the truth.
Kyoya leans back in his chair a bit more, and takes a second to listen to the water trickling from the cherubs' pots.
"It wasn't too surprising," he says. In his peripheral, Kosuke turns to look at him. "I suppose not. They haven't seemed very happy in their marriage for some time now."
"'Not surprising' doesn't mean 'not upsetting'."
Kyoya's lips purse into a flat line. He has been as honest as he's needed to be—they could stop talking about it right now.
So why is it that he wants to keep talking? After days and days of it haunting in wherever he goes.
Perhaps it's because Kosuke is in a unique position that no one else is. Not exactly a friend, but not a stranger. They're close, but only because they have to be. It may even be out of some twisted sense of camaraderie. It's not in the same way, but they're both very confused and overwhelmed—from many, many different things, but it includes Jin and Yoshio.
Whether he wants to be confused together, or if he wants a perspective from someone both familiar and un-, Kyoya talks about the thing he's been sick and tired of talking about. Except this time, it doesn't sicken or tire him.
"I'm not frustrated that I didn't see it coming." Here Kosuke turns even more to him, shifting the skirt of her dress on the cast iron seat. She twines her fingers atop the back as he continues. "It's the manner that it's happened in."
"Oh. Well, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I know it's at least kind of my business because of…you know, but the private details aren't. Besides that, if you don't want to talk about it just because you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, too."
"I want to talk about it," Kyoya admits, to both her and himself. She waits. "The truth is…I don't know why they're divorcing, and both my mother and my father refuse to discuss it. Not just with me. My brothers and sister are as confused as I am."
After a pause, Kosuke asks, "I thought you said it wasn't surprising?" Kyoya finally turns to look at her head-on. She's attentive, laser-focused on him, but her brow has a furrow of confusion. "You said they were unhappy for a while, so…"
"Yes, but that's not what either of them have said. That's not what my mother has said, anyway—my father has hardly said a syllable to us about it, and when my mother does talk, it's to tell us to ask our him. If it were as simple as an unhappy marriage reaching its end, I believe they would have just said as much."
"Why do you think Jin…Um. She told me to call her 'Mom', but I don't…I'm not going to call her Miss Jin, but I don't think I'm going to—"
"You can call her Jin."
"Great. So, why do you think they're not talking about it? It sounds like…" Kosuke stops short, fingers twitching towards her lips. Then she takes another deep breath and holds up her hands. "I'm absolutely not trying to insult your parents. I'm not. Cross my heart." Kyoya nods. "But just from what you've told me, it sounds like maybe your father said something? Or did something?" The words hang in the air for all of three seconds before Kosuke's body swings forward to bow to him, hands flailing. "That was so rude! I'm so sorry! I can't just make assumptions!"
While she flails and flounders, Kyoya thinks over it. He hadn't given much thought to his mother and father's differing responses, chalking it up to just them being differing people. In all their standoffs in the past, Jin has leaned more to pettiness while Yoshio leaned more to silence. Someone would compliment Jin for jewelry Yoshio had bought her, and she would loudly "correct" them that actually, she'd bought it for herself. Yoshio in turn would pretend as if he hasn't heard a thing, letting the arrow zip past the target for everyone to see.
Something about this, though… "I don't think so. It's not impossible, but I don't think they'd be behaving like this if that were the case." Kosuke has recovered back into her attentive state, and Kyoya finds himself turning to her just as she's turned to him. "My mother and father are both very prideful. If something happened that was solely my father's fault, I think my mother would have simply told us what it was. The fact that she hasn't makes it seem…"
"Mutual?" Kyoya waves his hand in agreement. "Huh. Have you tried talking to them about it? I don't think you should just stick your finger in their faces and demand answers, but maybe just ask?"
Kyoya shakes his head. "We've tried. My mother is holding firm. No matter how nicely or firmly we ask, she's adamant that our father has to explain it to us."
"Have you asked your father?"
Kyoya almost pushes up his glasses again just to do something with his twitching fingers. From an outsider perspective, it would seem curious why he's putting all the responsibility on his mother to talk and not a bit on his father. Kyoya doesn't have an outsider's perspective.
"Once my father has made it clear that he won't talk about something, there's no logic or reason in attempting to persuade him otherwise. You might as well try to push a brick wall down." He pauses. "My father does not like to be questioned. One of the things he hates the most in this world is people trying to change his mind."
Kosuke very pointedly says nothing to that. Does Kyoya even want her to think highly of Yoshio? The truth tastes petty and spiteful and childish coming out of his mouth, but it is the truth nonetheless.
"Maybe they just need some time," Kosuke offers. "Maybe once everything calms down they'll be willing to talk about it."
"Maybe," Kyoya says, in the same way you tell a child 'maybe' when they can't stand to hear the word 'no'.
Kosuke's finger taps on the chair again. It's missing the silver ring that Kyoya sometimes sees. He doesn't look too much into its absence. Maybe the silver just wouldn't match with her gold earrings.
"That's why you're upset? Them not talking to you about it?"
"That, among other things. On the one hand, if my mother hadn't told us beforehand, I believe our father would have let us found out with the rest of the world. That's how much he's dismissing it. On the other hand, it seems that the decision to go through with it turned my mother's business trip into a vacation. That's why she wasn't around even when DomenMed left, and why you only met her tonight." Kyoya watches his each and every syllable, not letting a hint of anger slip through. Just explanation. "Besides all of that, I must admit the amount of attention we're all getting is very…bothersome."
Again Kosuke laughs without humor. Kyoya remembers that she's been caught up in the crossfire as well.
"It's sweet, at least, that everyone's offering their condolences. Is condolences the right word? That makes it sound like someone died." She shakes her head. "Anyway. It's nice of them, but it's weird how much they talk about it. When I was in Karuizawa and someone got a divorce or something like that, it just made for a little gossip and a few I'm sorry's. Then everyone dropped it. Is that another average-versus-rich person thing?"
"Gossip definitely has some part in it, but people are also looking for signs of weakness. As I said, many of us have business connections. Even if DomenMed hadn't occurred, the two heads of a family business divorcing is a telltale sign of instability. All the 'condolences' aren't just for my family, they're for Ootori Medical. It looks like it's falling apart at the seams."
Kosuke blinks once, twice, before replying, "Well. That's not very fair." She folds her arms over her chest. "I'm sorry that everyone's making your family's business their business."
"As I said, connections are important, and—"
"I know. I know. But you did admit to it being overwhelming."
Kyoya nods his surrender. "That I did."
"And I'm sorry for what's happening with your family. The parts that you're upset about. I wish I could help."
The shadows in the windows never stop moving and their owners never stop chattering. Kyoya watches them warily. He knows he will have to join them soon, and a few minutes ago he dreaded giving up his solitude. Now he's dreading giving up whatever this is.
"Kosuke." She's never stopped looking at him, and even so she perks up, no longer the audience but the speaker. "Can I ask for your perspective on something?"
Though it is with a pause, she folds her hands in her lap and answers, "Sure."
"As I said, I'm not upset that my parents are divorcing." Kyoya's gaze narrows on the shadows, wondering if one belongs to his mother. No doubt she is in her element, smiling and laughing as the world revolves around her. "Should I be?"
Kosuke blinks many times at this. Kyoya instantly feels like a fool—What kind of question is that? To someone who hardly knows the people in question?
Yet he doesn't retract the question, because after she reels, Kosuke thinks. Kyoya feels jealous of her. She's comfortable taking her time to answer, unlike him, who has to know his response before the question is even asked.
When Kosuke speaks, it's slow with honesty.
"I don't think divorce is a happy thing, but it's not always a bad thing. Does that make sense. That's how I explain it to the children. That's why it's taboo, because it's never for a happy reason. Even if it's unhappy, though, I think it's usually for the best. You know, a while back I was reading some parenting books, and I read that children with divorced parents are actually happier and healthier than children whose parents stayed together despite wanting to divo—Why am I saying this? You're not a child. Anyway. If two people really don't want to be together anymore, no matter how hard they've tried to make it work, then I don't think it does any good to stay together. Sounds like it'd just make everyone more miserable."
She shakes her head again. "That may sound heartless, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to say it's great that your parents are divorcing, but it may not be a bad thing, either…? Obviously I don't think they're handling it the way that they should. They shouldn't be leaving you and your siblings in the dark, your dad shouldn't be ignoring you, and your mom shouldn't have stayed away for so long. Still, like I said before, maybe when everything calms down it'll be fine."
A sentiment that Kyoya has not heard yet, unlike Miwa's. Everyone else said that it would be a storm that would blow over, but not without hinting at the fallen trees and broken windows that follow storms. Kosuke is the first person who has dared to give him hope and not just comfort.
They're wise words, and Kyoya's grateful for them. He even finds himself endeared to her and marvels at how wrong his first impression of her—immature, childish, pouty—had been.
They just don't hit the target. Not quite. A little to the left of the bullseye.
It's not her fault, because he still hasn't been completely honest with her. He hasn't been completely honest with himself.
He isn't upset about his parents separating. He is upset about how it has happened. At the core of it all, though, Kyoya has realized that his family isn't really a family.
His father is his employer, his brothers are his colleagues, and his mother is the kind but distant stranger at parties who says things like, Look how tall you're getting and How has school been, Kyoya? Only Fuyumi truly feels like his sister, and how many times has he rebuffed her for acting like it?
He's upset for not being upset about it sooner, he's upset for apparently being the only one upset about it, and he's upset that he's even upset in the first place. For years and years he's been taking part in this cold system, and only now does he look around and think it strange.
Maybe the divorce has opened his eyes to his family being anything but, but then there's everything else. Accepting he would never be with anyone he loves, and being engaged to a stranger. Haruhi having to ask if he had ill intentions with Kosuke, and later wrapping her arms around her but straying away from him. Seeing how close Tamaki's family is despite everything they have been through.
It seems that Kyoya is quite lonely, and didn't realize it until so many things began to fester in his chest without anyone to talk to about it. Not even his family, who were supposed to be a "given".
And of course, some blame falls on him. Fuyumi, Haruhi, Tamaki, the twins, the 'Zukas, and now Kosuke…They've all given him countless invitations to confide in him. They've told him that he isn't alone. Still Kyoya keeps his lips sealed shut and turns away from them.
Like now. Why?
"Thank you. That's very wise of you to say."
She snorts. "You sound surprised."
Fantastic. "I didn't mean—"
"I'm joking!" Kosuke rolls her eyes, not unkindly. "I guess I shouldn't make jokes like that. But it's payback for making me look stupid."
It takes Kyoya a second to remember. He can't help but smirk, especially when she pouts back. "I never said you were stupid."
"I didn't say you called me stupid, I said you made me look stupid."
"If this was a ball and not an art gallery, would you have come tonight? Or would you have been too afraid?"
"Keep making jokes. If we ever end up dancing together, I'm going to step on your toes every chance I get."
Kyoya does not get to respond to this threat, because the door opens once again, making him and Kosuke both go stiff.
"Kosuke!" Jin's chains and jewels tinkle together as she leans out. "I thought that was you. What are you doing out here, sweet? Do you not feel well or—"
She stops when her eyes fall on her son. Kyoya wants to protest again that he's just been sitting there the whole time. His friends have made jokes before about how frightening he is, but this is ridiculous.
"I'm coming," Kosuke says, standing to her feet and straightening out her skirt. "I was just—"
"Oh, no, no, no! You two stay right here." As Jin draws the door shut again, she winks their way. "I didn't mean to interrupt you two lovebirds. Carry on."
She disappears, somehow leaving Kyoya even more embarrassed than he already was. Kosuke doesn't seem to mind, and gives him a kind—if not tired—smile.
"I'm going to go back in. I just needed to catch my breath for a second." As she walks for the door, she taps a finger on her lips. "I'll cover for you."
"No, I should return as well." Kyoya stands and once again feels his grandfather coming through. He manages to straighten his knees without making Hiro's signature heeeaugh. "Unwanted conversation aside, I was looking forward to looking at the art tonight."
"I will kindly ignore that you lied to my face about not liking art, then." Kosuke only makes it another step before pausing again. "You know, I've found that you don't have to deal with so many of those questions if you're with someone."
"Is that an invitation?"
No doubt she was hinting at one of his friends. Yet he doesn't retract the question, for some reason he doesn't even know.
She doesn't miss a beat, saying, "Sure, if you want it to be. You can actually tell me about what I'm looking at, so I don't spend the whole night nodding and going, ahh, interesting."
He smiles again, and as he closes the distance between the two of them, he says, "Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about."
"What's that?"
"I think that there are still many things we should know about each other, but don't."
They step back inside. "Like what?"
"Do you have any allergies?"
"Whoa. Slow down. That's way too personal." Kyoya just shakes his head, but Kosuke laughs. "No allergies. Does taste aversion count? Because I have a taste aversion for hot dogs."
"That's specific."
"One time my mom and I were on a long road trip and I got carsick. We stopped at a restaurant for lunch, and I was going to tell her I didn't want anything, but then I saw they had those kid's meals with little toys in them. SoI got a hot dog kid's meal and ate it just so Mom wouldn't get mad at me. At the cost of us having to pull over to the side of the highway about thirty minutes later." She shrugs. "To this day I can't look at a hot dog without getting carsick, but at least I got a little bunny toy out of it."
"There are restaurants that give toys to children when they order food?"
"See, you're saying that in your oh, commoners are so weird voice, but I know envy when I hear it. What about you?"
"No allergies. Or taste aversions."
"Alright, me next. Favorite color?"
Kyoya thinks for a second. "Purple. And you?"
"Mm…Orange. Not orange-orange, but pinkish-orange. Like sherbet."
This leads into a long explanation on the differences between sherbet and sorbet and Italian ice, followed by horrified gibberish when Kyoya says he's never tried shaved ice in his life. They discuss their birthdays (October 17th and November 22nd), childhood pets (some goldfish and none ever), and favorite meals (honey-glazed salmon and seafood paella, which Kosuke somehow already knows but doesn't say how). There are greetings and chitchat, but Kosuke is right: her presence deters anything beyond an I'm sorry. Jin smiles at them, Fuyumi glances, and Tamaki stops them once to ask how Kosuke is enjoying her first art gallery, but that is all. It is not perfect, and Kyoya knows that it will end. But at the moment, he lets himself get lost in the shapes and colors in the frames.