Chapter 27

He woke to his skull being crushed by a mallet. What the fuck? How did he even get home? His arm fished over to his nightstand for his phone that was conveniently placed on the wireless charger. It was just past 9 AM according to the lock screen. The device was placed on Do Not Disturb, his alarms turned off, and emails had flooded his inbox wishing him well.

What the fuck?

Good morning,

I am taking a sick day. All deliverables are still expected to adhere to the timelines set.

Regards,

KO

Kyouya read the email over a few times before registering that he did not send it at the brink of dawn. He would never bother with a Good Morning greeting. He squinted over to his nightstand with a piece of paper that had been ripped out of a pad.

64 800 yen at your earliest convenience.

He grunted at the note and rolled over to the other side of his bed. Kyouya could have sworn that he could smell the waft of her perfume as he buried his head into the other pillow, his face hitting a sensation that was cold but soft against his skin. Suddenly, he was enveloped by her, like he had buried his nose in the scent of her hair. When he opened his eyes, all he could see was a sea of white and blue. Fuck, he realized this was her scarf. Soft silk that was nestled in her hair last night and most certainly branded Dior. How did it get here?

Kyouya grabbed his phone again and while he could hardly open his eyes at the screen, he swiped to his recent calls and tapped on the top one. It took a few rings before she answered.

"You're awake," she mused. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," he answered, eyes closed. He stifled a deep groan at the back of his throat. Somehow, the pounding of his head subsided by a fraction at the sound of her voice. It got marginally better when she knowingly chuckled at his response.

"Did you see my note? I'll charge interest, by the way," Kiyoko half-joked.

"How did your scarf get here?" he grumbled, ignoring the debt that he owed her for last night.

She gasped in response, poking fun at the man. "You mean you don't remember running your hands through my hair and kissing me senseless to steal my head scarf?"

He tried to rummage through his brain for any kind of moment even remotely like what she described but he came up with a blank. He would've remembered something like that, right? That seemed like a move he could have easily done himself, somehow getting her to bed…

"It was straight out of a movie," she continued as she was met with silence. "Not that you watch movies," Kiyoko added. "You had me up against the wall, muttering all the things you would do to me and we would've fucked but you couldn't get it up so…"

That was when Kyouya knew she was joking. There was no way he wouldn't have been able to, not when she looked the way that she did – he huffed at the thought, knowing that she was riling him up her own amusement. He could practically hear her smile through the phone, probably biting her bottom lip to keep herself from bursting out with laughter.

"Liar," he growled. "You know that's not what I—"

"Always no fun," she brushed off. Kiyoko couldn't keep up the ruse anyway. "There's water and aspirin on your other nightstand."

He opened his eyes to the other side of the bed. There was a glass of water and a packet of pills, as promised. "Did you sleep?" he gruffly asked as he tried to get on his elbows to lift himself up.

"Uh, yeah, I slept," she shrugged. "I slept enough," Kiyoko added, trying to convince him not to worry.

"Why didn't you stay?" He reached over to the packet of pills. The aluminum packet popped with ease under his fumbling fingertips.

"And have your mother catch me in your bed in the morning?" she retorted. "Goodness, it was enough trying to get your drunk ass to bed while navigating the halls of your estate."

"How did you manage that?"
"You're very easily convinced," she answered amusedly.

"By what?"
Kiyoko paused. "Maybe it's best not to remember if you want to keep your dignity."

"As if I have any when it comes to you," he muttered. "What happened last night?"
"I drove you home in your car, I put you to bed, and then I went home," she listed off.

Kyouya chugged down the rest of the glass of water before reminding her, "You also wrote an email at 4:12 AM. By the way, I would never greet my subordinates with good morning."

"Well, it certainly sounds like you've recovered," Kiyoko snapped back, annoyed that the man couldn't even say a simple thank you to her.
"How did you get home?" he asked.

"Erm," Kiyoko exhaled. "I borrowed your car," she confessed, shyly.
"I'll come get it," Kyouya decided, springing out of bed near immediately.

The headache became more tolerable as he continued about his day, starting with a steaming hot shower. Kyouya arrived at her townhome within an hour, rushing to get a hold of her again before she disappeared. The woman had a penchant of leaving nothing but a trail of dust behind. There was no way she was gone if his car was still in the driveway. Kyouya cared less for being polite and typed in the lock code to let himself into the property as he always had.

It felt colder, almost sterile now, having not been used over the past few months. The kitchen was empty, the curtains were drawn shut, and the living room was untouched. His legs carried him up the stairs, looking for any trace of her presence. The door leading to her study was open, where she was hunched over her mahogany desk, probably falling asleep after they had spoken just an hour ago with her phone still in her palm.

Kyouya looked around the room to find her whiteboard that he had gotten a glance at before. It was now scribbled with names of her family members and keywords beneath. This was how her brain worked – the inner thoughts of Kiyoko Hibayashi. He had seen the whiteboard before: beautifully organized with colour coded dates or events, numbers finely written for the percentages of her profit margins, and a list of things to do for the week, month, and quarter.

But now, it was a web of confusion – arrows pointing between each name, question marks that littered across the board, and no to-do list in sight. She lied about sleeping – she was up trying to map out this maze of people of which Kyouya realized were the names of her family members.

What was this?

Kyouya's attention was turned to Kiyoko who woke violently, gasping for breath and her phone slipping out of her hand. Kiyoko gave herself a scare before she noticed the figure standing by the wall of her study that watched her wake from what seemed to be a nightmare.

"What the fuck?" she screeched as soon as she recognized the man, still in shock. She nearly threw a letter opener at him. "You couldn't have called first? You could have been a murderer."
"Who says I'm not here to murder you?" he shot back with his arms crossed.

"Be my guest," she snarled. "Put an end to this madness, I dare you."
Kyouya turned back to the whiteboard, ignoring her seething tone. "Why do you have names of your family members here?"

"That's none of your business," she shut him out.
"Kiyoko," he scowled. "What the fuck is this?" he pointed to the board again.

The woman rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Your car keys are in the kitchen," she said, ignoring his question. "You can see yourself out."

"Kiyoko," Kyouya tried again, his voice softer. "This isn't the ending I want. I never wanted this to end." That was all he could remember from last night, her last words to him.

The woman ran a hand through her hair, massaging her temples and leaned back in her office chair. "I don't have time for this," she gritted out, still avoiding his interrogation. "Isn't your corporation falling apart without you sitting in your cushy office?"

"Deflecting won't make me leave, Kiyoko," Kyouya stood his ground. "If you don't want to tell me what's going on, then at least pull yourself together. Get some sleep. Eat something. Take a damn shower," he ordered.

"You're not my mother," she shot back, defiant.
"You never had one," he pointed out nonchalantly.

It was dark but true. It was said to gauge some kind of reaction out of her – perhaps laughter if the joke landed well enough. Kiyoko blinked, realizing that this was the Ootori using the same line she would on him. "You're getting better at this," she acknowledged. "I don't need your help," she stubbornly told him. "I am doing fine."

"You just woke from a nightmare. You hardly sleep. You're unemployed—"
"Oi," Kiyoko narrowed her eyes in offense. "The service industry is a valid form of employment."

"Fucking hell, woman, can't you just shut up and listen?"
"You don't speak to me like that," Kiyoko growled, fighting back.
"I wouldn't have to if you weren't such a fucking stubborn pain in my ass," he snapped. "I wish I didn't care for you as much as I do."

Kiyoko frowned at him. "Me too," she quietly responded. She hated how much she missed him. More than she ever wanted to admit out loud. "You're supposed to be mad at me," Kiyoko added.

"I still am," he sternly responded. "I am mad at you for telling me anything, for nearly dying, and for never accepting my love for you."
"That's fair," she murmured. "But I'd like it if you stopped coming back so I wouldn't keep hoping you'd stay."

He sighed. "Is that why you didn't stay last night? I wouldn't have anything more than to have you in my bed but instead all I got was a scarf."
"Speaking of which, where—"

"Don't change the topic," he warned. He walked closer to her desk and forcefully tugged her up, holding her firmly so she could stand on two feet – she looked like she was lightheaded from the mere act of standing. She gingerly leaned on him for support, letting herself sink into the warmth of his chest.

It felt so good. Like she could sink into his arms and swim in this blanket of security, his grip tightened around her waist as he leaned down to keep her from escaping. He refused to let go, breathing her in at the crook of her neck. This was his home and he had been away from it for far too long.

"Stay. Please stay," he begged. "I won't ask for anything more. Just stay."

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to keep herself contained. She choked back a sob, afraid that her vulnerability would shoo him away – she was a mess and he was the only thing that held her together.

"You don't get to choose an ending with me," Kyouya told her. "We don't have an end, Kiyoko. Do you understand? There is only you for me. I have always been yours to take. These months without you were absolute hell."

"What if—"
"There are no what ifs," he murmured into her hair. "It's only been you, it's always been you."

He could only hope that he finally got through to her after all these months alone.

She sat atop of the counter of her bathroom after he had carried her to it. He lifted her so swiftly, scooping her up as though she were light as a feather. There was something so comfortable about him hoisting her up, legs tangled over his hips and her arms holding over his neck. It was a moment of déjà vu where Kyouya did the same thing with her a handful of months ago. Here he was, taking off the residual bits of her makeup that hadn't been washed away by her tears, gently wiping away the black smudges around her eyes.

"You fell in love with a raccoon," she commented when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Kiyoko felt as awful as she had looked.
"Good," he told her. "No one else would want you but me."

She shoved his shoulder weakly. "Fuck you."
"Later," Kyouya smirked.

Kiyoko shoved him harder to make him stumble backwards. "Get out," she shook her head at him. "I have to shower. Go check your emails or something."

"I was hoping I could enjoy the view," he tried with her. She glared at him, making sure that he knew she wasn't in the mood to joke. Kyouya relented and pulled her in for a quick kiss at the crown of her head. "I'll get some food," he suggested instead, a more productive thing to do.

Kiyoko looked at him skeptically, knowing that there was no food in the fridge and the Ootori was not a chef by any means. She wasn't even sure if the man knew how to make a cup of coffee himself. But the man shuffled out the door and left Kiyoko to shower in her home for the first time in months.

Her insomnia always left her in a haze which was why working at the bar made sense. She couldn't sleep during the night. The adrenaline after a few hours of uninterrupted sleep in the mid-afternoon usually got her through her shifts. Her entire sleep schedule was messed up and it was no thanks to the Ootori who had to be chauffeured home last night. The gates opened thanks to the automatic pass in his car. She parked in the garage of the mansion with easy access into the property without needing a key.

Which way to your room? She whispered. Come on, she snapped her fingers. Stay awake for a little longer, won't you? He only responded with a grunt.

Please? She begged while opening up the passenger door. Come on, Kyouya. What do you want? We can strike a deal. You can get something out of me, you just have to get out of the car and walk to your room. Easy.

His eyes barely flitted open. Kyouya felt like he must have been dreaming, seeing the way she looked at him with those large doe eyes of concern. He dreamed about her a lot. She kneeled near the ground, trying to convince him to get out of the passenger side of the vehicle. He ran his fingers through her long hair, trying to determine if she was real. Your scarf. He remembered the same scarf intertwined with the braid in her hair she wore in France. She wore it so elegantly and she smelled so good. It wasn't fair that he was intoxicated by her scent.

She nodded eagerly. Okay, she agreed. Come on now, she encouraged. Let's get you to bed, hm? You can have my scarf.

How about a kiss? He slurred. Kiyoko stopped herself from chuckling after letting out an amused hmph. He stumbled forward, slowly stomping his way around the halls of the property out of habit. Kiyoko held onto him so he would not knock into anything horrendously expensive. The Ootori mansion had fewer antiques than the Hibayashi estate, not that there were many left over the years in her childhood home.

Can you just open your eyes so I can write an email for you? Your phone needs to unlock. She shook his shoulder after she had stripped him into his usual garb what he slept in: nearly nothing. Please? She tried again. Kyouya, please, she sighed. She pressed a kiss to his cheek out of desperation. The man was falling fast asleep. Be good, hm? Open your eyes for me. Her lips moved away from his ears to his mouth. Just open your eyes for me, Kyouya. His eyes peeked open when he was conscious enough to recognize that she was kissing him softly. He moved his neck to chase her lips, responding eagerly to what he had missed so dearly after all these months. Kiyoko pulled away as soon as his phone vibrated in her hand when it unlocked.

Let's see… what kind of douchebag line would I use…? Timelines… adhere… ugh fuck it, it's 4 AM. Good enough. You're not showing up to work tomorrow anyhow.

Kiyoko wondered how much the man remembered while she put on her skincare that she hadn't religiously used for months. Her now sallow skin made her look like the undead having had the night before. Her skin craved the high-end skin products that she had used for years, a culmination of being stupidly rich. When she stepped out of her marble tiled bathroom, she found him peering over the coffee machine in her kitchen, pressing buttons that did nothing but beep back at him.

"It needs water," she explained, shuffling beside him with ease. She changed into a fresh set of clothes, a skin tight camisole covered by a cashmere cardigan that trailed all the way down to her knees. "Where's the food you promised?"

"On the way," he shot back. "Haruhi mentioned this commoner app with ordering food."

Kiyoko stared at him, trying her best to mask her surprise behind the frames of her glasses. She didn't pick up her prescription for her contacts in a couple months. She was running low on them back at the cabin, now that she thought about it.

"That's very resourceful of you," she commented neutrally, the closest he would get any form of praise. She gestured back to the coffee machine and showed him how to use it. Kiyoko forced the Ootori to take apart the machine and to scrub it thoroughly after being unused for months.

"I didn't sign up for manual labour," he complained quietly. Leave it to the filthy rich kid who hadn't done dishes his entire life to say such a thing.

"Do you want coffee or not?" she rolled her eyes. They stood over the sink together, hips touching and arms grazing each other in the same comfort that they always had with each other. It felt strangely domestic. She handed him a towel to dry each component of the machine before making him do the real job of making a cup of espresso.

She guided his hands over to the water compartment, and then to the beans that had to be grinded. Kyouya welcomed the way she moved his hands like a puppet, missing her gentle touch while she guided him through the steps of making the perfect cup of coffee she had for him every time he stayed over.

"Hey, pay attention," she demanded.
"I'm trying to," his voice softer than she had expected of him.

She turned her head and looked up to him, wavering at the way he smiled down at her. He bent down and kissed the temple of her head, encouraging her to continue on with her lesson. The man could be so sweet sometimes, it was infuriating if she hadn't grown to find it so endearing. Her heart swelled a little in her chest and all she wanted to do next was to bury her face in his chest beneath his chin. He squeezed her fingers to bring her back to reality, readying the cup above the drip catcher after they had patted down the ground beans in the portafilter. Her hand guided his own to place the filter onto the machine before pushing the button that allowed the coffee to finally drip into the mug.

"Why are you still here?" she asked him quietly while passing off the mug to him.
"I want to be here," Kyouya answered. "I've missed you."

Kiyoko tried her best to stay nonchalant over it and made her own cup of coffee. He placed an arm around her waist while he drank his espresso with his other hand. This was what he had always imagined life to be with her like, quietly being in her presence.

"I'm not running from you," she slowly said. "But I do have work to get to," Kiyoko reminded.
"What?" Kyouya narrowed his eyes. "Why? Why work there? You shouldn't have to. You hardly sleep," his voice grew angrier at the thought of her having to return back to the bar in the state of what she looked like in front of him.

"Okay, relax," she soothed, placing a hand on his chest to calm him down. "I'll be fine, I usually sleep in the afternoon."

He stood in skeptical silence. "What are you doing, Kiyoko?"

"Excellent question," she murmured into her cup. She hid behind the mug for a few seconds before sighing as if she was caught doing something red-handed. "I'm just… figuring things out, alright? I don't have a concrete plan. I'm not really sure what I should do next."

"So you spend your days working at a seedy bar?"
"It's an honest living," she offered with a sweet smile, batting her eyes behind her glasses.
"As was being a gallerist," Kyouya pointed out, ignoring how adorable she tried to be.

She stiffened at the thought of the art gallery and the unfinished works that were left behind in Haru's studio. There was no point in her being a gallerist if she had no purpose in doing so anymore. "Onto the next thing, I suppose."

He looked at her with worry but couldn't quite pry any further, knowing that she would have just moved onto another topic. She wrapped one arm around his neck, pulling him down to her while she held onto her cup. She held him tightly, relishing in his comfort more than she ever had in the past few months. It felt good to be held.

"Alright," he sighed, hugging her back. "What else have you been doing?"
"Volunteering," she quietly said, almost embarrassed. "I spend a few hours in the morning volunteering at one of our hospitals."

This woman was always full of surprises. He let her go. "I didn't know the Hibayashi group took volunteers when they catered to the rich."

"Hah," she shrugged. "They take free labour in the kitchen when you persist. But I don't have a lot of visibility on interacting with the guests," she explained before taking a sip of her own coffee. "It takes up my morning and leaves only my afternoon free." She left out the part where she went hiking on only the weekends now.

He frowned at that. "Why are you overworking yourself?"
"I'm only doing the same thing you do," she smiled. "Learning the family business, right?"
"In the kitchen? Instead of an office?" Kyouya scoffed.

She rolled her eyes behind the cat eyed frames, scrunching her nose up with a pout. "Why can't you just stand and look pretty instead of questioning my methods?"
"It's an odd method," he pointed out. "And I look handsome."

"You look better without your glasses," Kiyoko murmured into her cup, swiftly changing the topic. "Everyone sees you with those frames but only I get to see you without."
He tilted his head at her in confusion. "They're a signature of mine. You don't like them?"

Kiyoko stifled a giggle as the man questioned every living second of his life.

"I like you," she comforted. "I like you when you're sleepy and drunk," Kiyoko grinned.

The Ootori's fingers clenched over the handle of his mug. "Why can't you stand and look pretty instead of attacking me?" he shot back, afraid of what she had seen the night before. Was he really that silly as she made him out to be? Why couldn't he just be cool around her?

"You really don't remember anything?" she wondered. "Nothing?"

The Ootori chose not to answer as he sipped on his caffeine quietly. She kissed him softly on the jaw to try to coax his memory. To which he only turned his head down towards her in confusion but his lips involuntarily twitched upwards. He didn't explicitly deny her affection.

"Stop distracting me," he frowned at her.

"I'm not doing anything," she smiled playfully at him. Kyouya was being his usual grumpy self. "You know what I love about you?" Kiyoko murmured, cupping his cheek with her hand. He relaxed into her palm, silently encouraging her to continue.

"What?" he softened.

"I love the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. All those little lines that show up just for me." She tenderly traced where they would show up with the tip of her finger, nails now dull and shortened after having to adjust to her work.

"You're good at this," Kyouya admitted, having faltered for just a moment. He nearly dove down to capture her lips.
"I'm good at many things, Ootori-san," Kiyoko shot back with a sly grin. "Care to share?"

He stood his ground and firmly refused to give into her, as tempting as it was to duck down to kiss her senseless and to fall into their old patterns. God, he missed having her like this. But Kyouya couldn't tell if this moment of domesticity was just her evading the topic or if she meant it. There was a good chance that it was both, he thought.

"Kiyoko," he sternly said. "Tell me what happened."
"Where do I even begin?" Kiyoko sighed.
"Tell me who was in the car with you," Kyouya offered up first.

Kiyoko pulled her hand away and stepped away from the man, clenching onto her now lukewarm mug of coffee. She leaned against the counter, looking down at the half-full puddle of caffeine in her hands. Her vision began to blur and she quickly blinked away the tears that began to well. She couldn't feel a thing from the tips of her fingers to the toes on her feet, it all felt numb to her.

"Come here," he set his mug down and opened his arms up to her. When she didn't move, he carefully extracted the mug out of her hands to place them side by side. Kyouya enveloped his arms around her instead, tucking her under his chin. His hands ran soothing patterns on her back that was all bones beneath the pads of his fingers. She held onto his waist, burying her face into his sweater and inhaled deeply.

When she exhaled, Kiyoko mumbled the answer into his chest so quietly he thought she squeaked.

"What was that?"
"My brother," she whispered. "It was my brother."

"You have a brother?" he gaped.
"Had," she corrected, mournfully. "I was visiting him because I was sad," Kiyoko confessed. "After I had told you I never wanted to see you again."

He held her tighter, biting his tongue down with all the questions running through his mind. "I'm sorry," was all he could say instead. She fell apart in his arms, sobbing into his shirt that became damp with tears. The sudden weight of her body fell against his, like a taut string finally snapping against his chest that he could thankfully hold up with his arms.

Kiyoko pulled away, apologizing at the mess she had made. She had never been held like that before, never grieved openly in front of a person. "Gosh, I'm so sorry. What a disaster I am." She wiped away her tears and sniffed. How could she have done this twice in a row with him? Kiyoko's grandmother would have had a gall seeing her granddaughter like this. "I think I still have your sweater that you've left behind if you want to change into that," she offered after pulling herself together again. Who knew how long her composure would last.

"You have my sweater?" Kyouya couldn't help but to smile at that, still caging her in between his arms.

"You have my scarf," she pointed out, refusing to acknowledge his sly smirk. He had just as much of a hold over her as she did to him. "But yes, I do have your sweater. The cashmere has kept me warm when I've missed you too much."

"Too much? You didn't miss me enough," he scoffed in disbelief.

"I missed you dearly," she promised earnestly. "I missed you so much my brother thought I was a mopey idiot." She tugged on his arm so he would follow her up the stairs to her closet. They had done this walk many times, usually with the promise of their clothes being discarded along the way.

"Tell me more," he coaxed, repressing the memories of their usual routine up the stairs of this home. "Your brother, what was he like?"

"He was a genius," she answered. "An absolute wonder," Kiyoko revered. "But he was neurodivergent with hyperlexia and certainly on the spectrum with sensory processing disorders," she added. "He wasn't exactly… planned."

"And you were?"

Kiyoko laughed at the thought. Was anything in their family planned? "No," she waved off. "But I was a convenient replacement. It was just unfortunate that I was born a girl." She scavenged through her drawers to find the navy blue sweater he had forgotten he even had. Kiyoko held the fabric closer to her chest, hugging the fibres against her collarbone and silently saying goodbye to the material before she handed it over to him reluctantly.

"If you love it so much, you can keep it," the Ootori offered amusedly. He could easily imagine her wearing this sweater, oversized over her collarbones teasing him with just enough skin to make his blood rush elsewhere.

"No," Kiyoko sighed. "I'll dry clean your dress shirt in exchange," her fingers weaving quickly to the buttons of his shirt. She pressed down against his pectoral muscles and narrowed her eyes. "Did you somehow get more fit within these past few months?"

He needed some kind of outlet for all the pent up anger he had about her. Somehow, it all disappeared in the morning as he sipped coffee with Kiyoko. It was ridiculous what kind of hold she had over him. "You got skinnier," he frowned, his hands comfortably resting on her bony hips. It was concerning. "You were already so small before. You need to eat more."

"You sound like Maoru-san," Kiyoko rolled her eyes as she undressed him. "One of our housekeepers would stop by to check on me regularly. She says that all the time," she explained.

Her lips curled into a smirk at the familiar habit of hers, working her way down the buttons. Usually, she'd be more frantic, clawing her nails over his body in a rush to try to get to him. Kyouya embraced the change, liking her in this form as well: gentle and careful with her graceful meandering around his body. Her slow movements had him flinching at the cold press of her fingertips against his bare skin, contrasting against the blood of his body that ran hot in a downward motion. He stifled a groan at the way she moved away from him, eager for her to touch him the way she used to.

"Sorry," she murmured, letting go of the shirt and letting him continue instead. Kiyoko turned to give him some privacy – as if there was any semblance of it – and began emptying out the bottom shelf of her drawer.

"What are you doing?" Kyouya asked while shrugging off his shirt.
"Making room for you," she shot back.

"Huh?" he dumbly responded while tunnelling through the head of his sweater.
"If you still want it, of course," Kiyoko added. She looked up at him with a smile. "We'll start small and maybe you can earn your way up. Your mansion seems so cold and lonely." But so did the Hibayashi estate, and the cabin now that she was the only occupant.

"Really?" Kyouya's voice drew more excitement than what he would have liked.

"Mmhm," she nodded. Kiyoko sorted through the clothes in a pile of donation, consignment, or keeping. She did this every season, clearing out the previous season of designer wear. He sat down with her on the hardwood floor, watching as she thought about each piece.

Admittedly, he had never snooped around her place given that he never really had the chance to. They were too busy doing other activities for him to care. He was most familiar with her kitchen as they would start off their time together with a home cooked meal, something he grew to appreciate fondly over their months apart. Her living area with the large plasma TV that was hardly ever used, but her white sectional saw the most action of them sharing a glass of wine after dinner and their lips and hands finding each other's bodies instead.

"Tell me more," he asked as he watched her work through the drawer.
"Of Haru?"

"Was that his name?"
"Haruma," Kiyoko corrected. "You won't find him on the registry, by the way. His last name is my grandmother's maiden name that she dropped many decades ago."

He waited for her to continue but she never did. Kyouya could not pinpoint the words to say to comfort her, all he could do was reach over to pat her back in a soothing motion.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, leaning into his touch. "I never talk about him, never mentioned him. I hid him away from the world like the rest of my family and I feel terribly about it. It was just something I figured nobody would understand."

She had a point. Kyouya would never understand.

"But thank you for listening," Kiyoko added with a tired smile. "I think he would have liked you."

"What else did he like?" he pried a little further, mostly just to keep her smiling.

Kiyoko hummed to herself. "He was an artist and drew much of his inspiration from landscapes. He liked to be outdoors and enjoyed the presence of animals more than humans. And numbers too, he loved numbers."

"Numbers," Kyouya repeated dumbly.
"I tried to understand him by doing a minor in it," she casually answered. "I'm terrible at maths, by the way. Regurgitating theorems was the best I could do."

The Ootori stared at her in fascination. "No, you were good at it." He had dug up her transcripts from Ouran to know enough.

"I was good at memorizing," Kiyoko corrected. "Haru somehow understood it at a fundamental level at a very young age. And then I, as an adult, scrambled to somehow understand the basic components of game theory to become a poker player. He was truly a genius while I was a fraud."

"If he were a genius…"
"Why wasn't he shown off to the world?" Kiyoko finished. "The family was already marred by a child out of wedlock. Our mother was not seen by public most of the time because she was a wildcard emotionally. I was quietly born to be the only legitimate child. Haru was already behind developmentally and… it just made sense at the time. Besides, my brother does not thrive under that kind of attention."

"And you?"
"Attention is just the byproduct of my last name," Kiyoko answered nonchalantly. "I exist under it. I wield it to my advantage the best I can. I do it for the both of us."

"The both of you," Kyouya murmured. "And what about now?"

She sighed, shoulder slumped at the thought of the loss of her other half. "Everything lost its meaning. I went into gambling because it was the fastest way to make money to take care of him. I became a gallerist to sell his art. I was all he had. I exist in this space because of him and now I am nothing."

"You're not nothing," he comforted. "You will never just be nothing." He reached for her hands, enveloping her thin fingers and pulling her into his chest. She leaned against him for warmth and sighed before breathing in his cologne. He held her close, staying in the position for as long as she needed before she pulled away and kissed him tenderly on his angled jaw.

"If you say so," she shyly murmured. Her lips curved into a smile against his neck as she huddled closer to him with her arms around his torso. He was so warm. Being caged under his arms made her feel safer than she had ever felt in her life. "I've missed you. Please believe me when I say that I have," her voice pleaded him to listen. "In the pits of misery I basked in, I often thought of you and hoped that you were happier without me."

"I wasn't," he rasped, nearly appalled at the thought. "How could I be? You ruined me. I didn't know it before but I certainly know now."

"I'm sorry," Kiyoko frowned. "You were meant to be destined for something, no," she stopped herself. "Someone greater. How could you let me do this to you?" she sighed, tracing the line of his jaw before cupping his face. "The great Ootori succumbing to the charms of this fraudster?"

"I would gladly plaster the word idiot over my forehead if it meant that you were mine to keep," he mumbled, eyes flitting away from hers out of embarrassment.
"Okay," she agreed. "You can keep me."

"Really?" he lightened up.
She nodded. "But I have to write idiot with lipstick on your forehead," she giggled.

He huffed first before joining in with a low chuckle himself. Her lips curved into a small smile as she watched the skin around his eyes crinkle like small secrets made just for her. He smiled with his eyes more than he did with his mouth and it made her melt inside every time. Kiyoko couldn't help but to cup his face to press a kiss to his cheek.

"I don't deserve you," she confessed to him, it was barely a whisper.
"Then earn me," he challenged her.