And here you go guys... Chapter 17 as promised. By the way, thanks for not punching the face. I need it for picture day at school. Oh, excuse my pathetic attempts at french. I suck.
Disclaimer: (I miss doing this.) -Ahem- Ouran High School Host Club dont belong to me no matter how much I beg and cry for it because the world is just isnt fair that way.
"Hey, look over there! It's that Ootori kid."
"Where?"
"Over there, by the window.."
"He's so quiet."
"My daddy says I have to be friends with him."
"Yeah, me too!"
"Not me though. My daddy hates his daddy."
Six year old Kyouya kept his eyes on the slowly drifting clouds and tried his best to ignore all the whispering. Honestly.. do they actually think he wouldn't hear them? But Kyouya doesn't mind, really. He hears this kind of whispering at least once a week. The vicious rivalry to be on top was already in motion while they were all at such a young age.
"Ootori-kun, your butler is here to take you home." The mid 30s teacher smiled at Kyouya as she helped him gather his books. Taking his hand, she took him to the school lobby where his butler stood waiting.
"Thank you for taking care of my young master, Kinoshita-san." Takatuo bowed slightly at Kyouya's teacher. "Come, lets go home." He held out his hand at Kyouya who took it without a moment's hesitation. Takatuo ushered Kyouya into the waiting limo before joining him. Once inside, Kyouya looked expectantly at the older man.
"Where's my mommy?"
"The mistress is resting at home. She's sorry that she couldn't come to pick you up today." The butler replied as he tried to tame the youngest Ootori's thick black locks. It's difficult to do so when you're confined to a limited space such as the insides of a limousine.
"Oh." The chibi Kyouya sat quietly and twiddled his thumb, pushing his glasses upward as it slip little by little down his small nose. "
Kyouya had always found his family as an odd one. When he was four, his sister explained to him that he has three older brothers, a mommy and a daddy. He didn't believe her then, because his brothers never played with him and always spend hours in the library. His friends said that big brothers are suppose to play with little brothers, so those three older boys couldn't possibly be his big brothers, right? If they were, shouldn't they be playing with him instead of frowning every time they see him?
He knew he has a mommy because she always tucked him in at night and gives him kisses in the morning. But he's not too sure about a daddy, though. Kyouya was lucky enough to see his daddy twice a month. Fuyumi-neechan said that their daddy work very hard to give him what he wants, so that's why they don't see him often. Through a child's way of thinking, Kyouya thought that his daddy was a little silly. He already has everything he wants, so why did his daddy still work?
Kyouya doesn't mind it much. He has Takatuo and Fuyumi-neechan to play with him and his mommy is always home. To him, it was enough. As he sat at on his mommy's bed with his short legs dangling from the sides, he made a mental note to tell his friends that he didn't need big brothers or daddy as long as he has his mommy and Fuyumi-neechan. But reality always has a way of destroying a child's perfect world. Not long after his seventh birthday, his mommy died of heart failure.
Seeing tubes coming out of his mommy's mouth like snakes was bad enough, but watching men putting his mommy in a box and covering her with dirt is straight out traumatic. At first he was confused, then he was scared, when the shock settled in, he became depressed. But after seeing his daddy leave his mommy's funeral for the sake of a business call, he felt disappointment and contempt.
He remembered the feeling very well indeed. Oh, how he despised his dear father for abandoning his mother like that, especially in her time of need. But as he shut the alarm clock and crawled out of his bed, he couldn't help but ask himself: 'Aren't you doing the same thing that father did to mother?'
His eyes wondered to the window of his rather spacious room and heaved a huge sigh. The moment he saw the tip of the Eiffel Tower peeped from the sea of concrete that was Paris, he knew that he was no different from his father.
"Shall I wait for you while you lament about your tragedy or shall I drag you all the way to des Tuileries instead?"
Kyouya jerked awake from his trance and lazily trailed his eyes across the room until a boy in his early twenties come into view. As empty onyx eyes met laughing green ones, Kyouya's phone rang. He didn't answer it though. Both men's eyes stared down at the sleek black technology without interest as it rang its poor little mechanical heart out.
"Aren't you going to answer that?"
"…."
"Well?" the young man drummed his fingers on the door frame in annoyance.
"Do you see me reaching out for it, Grég?" Kyouya rubbed his eyes with the back of his left hand and made his way to the bathroom. "And how on earth did you get into my room? I thought all students were given accommodations."
"I'm not homeless if that's what you were getting at." Grégoire Leroux shrugged with an indifferent smile on his sun kissed face. "My father practically owns the school, so I have what most people call the master key."
'My father practically owns the school..'
Owns the school..
Tamaki…
Host Club..
Haruhi..
Kyouya splashed a generous amount of water to his face and shook his head violently. He hated it whenever Grég brings up the 'my family owns the school' thing. Sometimes the French boy reminded Kyouya of Tamaki, only he's a brunette with curly hair and not a complete airhead. So whenever he's reminded of Tamaki, he'll be reminded of the Host Club and of course, Haruhi.
Fujioka Haruhi.
Ootori Haruhi if he stayed a little longer in Japan.
"Why do you always do that?"
Kyouya spun around with a towel in hand, eyeing Grég who was sitting comfortably on the crème colored sofa. "Do what?"
"How come you never answer your phone?" the older boy asked. "Why is that when it rings with a certain ringtone, you never even bother to pick it up and see who is calling?"
"Have it ever occurred to you that the reason I do so is because there's a certain someone I rather not speak to?" Kyouya raised his eyebrows and mentally kicking himself for dignifying Grég's question with an answer.
"Ah… I see." Was it Kyouya's imagination, or did Grég looked a little hesitant? "Is that certain someone in any way related to.. to Haruhi?"
Kyouya stared hard at Grég. So hard that the other boy fidgeted in his seat, despite the determined look in his eyes. "What else did my father told you?"
"Not to me, but to my father." He stood up from the sofa and made his way to the door. "We'll talk when we get to the park."
The Sunday sun casts its rays on the big trees that lined Jardin des Tuileries, making the green leaves glitter as they're teased by the soft wind. Sounds of laughter, leaves rustling, birds chirping, and dogs barking filled the air. This was all welcomed by Kyouya as it drowned out foreign sounds like moving vehicles and the loud cling-clang from the construction site not too far off.
Folding a corner of page 251, he gently closed the book he was reading and set it aside on the bench. He's returning into being he's old cold self again and he knew it. It's not that surprising especially when he's stuck in a preppy boarding school, sent to every Ootori client that was in town, listening to old men talking about his future, and being force into taking the occasional super models out for brunch.
His father sent him to Paris in order to mold him back into a living marionette and he succeeded. It scared the hell out of Kyouya because sometimes, he finds it hard to recall the feelings that he felt almost two months ago before he left that mansion. All the small details that he used to memorize were gone like it had never happened before. As though the last day he spent with Haruhi had never taken place. He truly was becoming a living marionette like before. Only worse.
"You have got to tell me how a non-Parisienne like you managed to beat the traffic."
Smiling slightly, Kyouya opened his previously closed eyes and squinted at Grég as the older teen sat down beside him. "I mean, seriously. Even I can't get pass Rue de Rivoli in one piece. And I'm a pure breed Parisienne!"
"Just watch out for the red light. That's all." Kyouya shrugged gracelessly. Sitting up straighter, Kyouya fiddled absently with the sleeve of his cashmere top. "So what do you want? The last time someone approached me, he made me go out with a flag pole of a supermodel."
"Flag pole of a supermodel?" Grég raised his eyebrows in amusement. "My, my. You have gotten rather rude lately. You should respect them, those poor dears. Always on the go, but still managed to look stunning. Shame on you." He made tsk tsk sounds for effect.
"If you want her number, I can give it to you."
"Direct hit." Grég grinned. "But I know that being thin is not the reason you detest them. They are magnifique, but alas, they are not Haruhi. Correct?"
Grég watched on as Kyouya heaved a huge sigh and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. That was quite a blow, mentioning Haruhi to the Japanese boy. But Grég isn't the kind of person to beat around the bushes when it comes to relationships. Besides, what use was it to pretend not knowing when he already slipped the name this morning? Might as well get it over with.
"How did you know about her?" Kyouya asked after a moment of silence.
"Your father told my father, who in turn told me." He shrugged. "He loves a good gossip despite being a male and in his late 60s."
"I see. There are three kinds of people you will meet no matter where you go; posers, haters and gossipers. I'm not surprise." Kyouya mumbled. "But what's your point?"
"My point?" Grég raised an eyebrow. "Monseur, you have been nothing but a pain in the ass for everyone on campus since you first got here and you're asking me what's my point?"
Kyouya stared, daring Grég to continue.
"My point is, you should really settle this whole Haruhi business if you ever want to be human. No offence, but you do remind me of a walking marble statue sometime."
"Settle it? What do you think got me here in the first place?" Kyouya demanded. "Do you really think that I didn't lift a finger to fix things?"
"Oh, I know you did. But that's just it. You raised a finger." Grég sneered. "Who the hell raise a single finger when his love life is in jeopardy? You need to do more than that, man."
Kyouya scoffed. He went through one hell of a traffic on a Sunday morning for this? As if he didn't get enough nagging. "And all these are coming from the campus' Casanova?"
"I'm serious, Kyo. I know more than you think." Grég sighed as he leaned back on the white bench. "And I must say, you have quite the love story. But this is not the renaissance era and you're allowed to act freely." He shrugged. "In case you didn't get the memo."
"Who would've thought you'd be the sarcastic one?" Kyouya rolled his eyes. "Trust me Grég.. this whole mess would be much easier to tackle if we were in the renaissance."
"Metaphorically speaking, surely?" he grinned. "Faint heart never wins fair lady, remember that. Although," he mused "I highly doubt that you have a faint heart. Cold, maybe. But not faint."
"It doesn't matter." Kyouya looked up, admiring the blue sky. "She probably hates me by now. I know I do."
"He better be hating himself right now, because damn I hate him so much." Hikaru slammed Tamaki's cell phone onto the table and gave a it a violent kick.
"Careful now," Tamaki said nonchalantly as he steadied the rattling tea set. "I take it that he didn't answer?"
"Oh, how did you know?" the seething red-head mumbled.
"Being rude won't solve anything, brother." Kaoru sighed, quite used to his brother's sudden outburst.
"I'm being rude?" Hikaru exclaimed indignantly. "He's the one who hasn't been answering our calls."
"Well, slamming my phone onto the table isn't exactly polite, either." Tamaki shrugged as he frowned at his slightly scratched cell phone. "And what did you expect from him, Hikaru? Kyouya hasn't been answering our calls since he left. What makes you think he'd answer now?"
"Oh, I don't know," Hikaru mocked shrugged as his brother rolled his eyes. "Maybe its because his fiancée is in her final stage of pregnancy and is expected to be in labor anytime now?"
Tamaki raised a delicate eyebrow. "Your sarcasm didn't go unnoticed, Hikaru."
"Good." He scoffed. "Because you're supposed to be offended by it."
Tamaki sighed. He's really getting tired of all these petty arguments, he truly was. Ever since Kyouya left, all Hikaru ever do is throw violent tantrums and destroyed properties- mainly Tamaki's properties since they all decided to move Haruhi to the Suoh's summer mansion. Its not because Yoshio kicked her out, but because Tamaki felt that a change in surrounding (from anything 'Ootori') would do her good. It might have worked if it wasn't for that wretched ring Kyouya left her. Tamaki couldn't count the number of times he and the others tried to pried that silver little band away from Haruhi.
Although he may not show it, Tamaki was furious at his best friend for fleeing the country like that. He knew of course, the reason behind it. Yoshio made a deal with Kyouya that he will give Haruhi and the child all the privilege of being an Ootori, including a share in the Ootori Corp. Under the condition that Kyouya must leave Japan for Paris and stay there unless Yoshio says otherwise. A fair trade, surely; only if you ignore the part where Kyouya is forbidden to ever contact Haruhi or his child. But it never stopped Tamaki from storming into Yoshio's office against his better judgment and yelled his head off at the stunned old man. That alone couldn't satisfy his anger. But since Kyouya hasn't been returning his calls, Tamaki will have to settle with taking out his frustrations on the punching bag Mori gave him since he had taken a liking to punch walls and mirrors.
"When is she due, milord?" Kaoru's gentle voice broke the silence of the Suoh garden.
"This week or the next." Answered Tamaki as he absently stirred his tea; his eyes not focusing on anything.
"I see." Kaoru took a sip from his cup, his eyes roaming around the beautiful garden with its flowers and greenery. "Haruhi isn't taking her meals, is she?" he asked bluntly.
"From what Natsue told me, no, she isn't." Tamaki frowned as Hikaru narrowed his eyes. "Unwise of her, really. But the maids managed to convince her one way or another." His frowned deepened and sighed heavily. "She's not even listening to Honey-senpai or Mori-senpai."
"I'm going to kill Kyouya." Kaoru whispered.
Tamaki gave the younger Hitachiin a curious look while Hikaru's lips twitched upwards, forming an amused smirk. Closing his eyes, Hikaru's smirk turned into a cynical smile and said, "It's about time you see things my way, Kaoru."
"Well, I don't." Kaoru snapped. "I'm angry at Kyouya for abandoning Haruhi. You on the other hand, hate him."
"Is there a difference, Kaoru?" Hikaru challenged, stressing Kaoru's name with a seething tone as Tamaki watched with interest at the sibling banter.
"Of course there is, brother dear." Kaoru spat. "Anger and hatred are two very different emotions."
"Just like you and me, then." Hikaru smiled coldly at his younger brother. "We've grown into two different individual, haven't we?"
"Yes, I believe you're right." Kaoru returned the cold smile with a blank expression that sent shivers down Tamaki's spine. Maybe he should have interfered instead of letting the twins lash at each other's throats.
Before Tamaki or the twins could utter another word, their eyes caught the sight of the tiny blond Honey, walking in a fast pace and followed by the ever stoic Mori. The mere sight of Honey walking instead of sitting on Mori's shoulder made the three boys sat up a little straighter, fearing the worst.
"Yoshio Ootori is here." Honey stated, getting straight to the point. "He demanded to see Haruhi."
"WHAT?" Tamaki thundered. The taller blond stood up violently, slamming his hands onto the table. "He wouldn't dare."
While the twins cringed at the King's outburst, Honey and Mori's eyes bored into the cerulean orbs, already expecting the usually cheerful blond to explode. Opening his small mouth, Honey simply stated, "Apparently, he would." The senior shrugged, casting a warning glance at Mori to watch out in case Tamaki decided to hack the garden table into two. "In fact, last we saw him, he was already on his way to Haruhi's room."
"Get up, both of you." Tamaki growled as the twins silently stood up. Barely containing his anger, Tamaki walked across the garden with his shoulder squared stiffly, the rest of the club trailing behind him. Tamaki looked so dangerous that even Mori refrained himself from touching the Host Club president.
Haruhi stared blankly at the diamond ring she wore
It was a lovely ring, simple yet elegant. A fair sized, squarely cut diamond sat between two smaller ones on a slim platinum band. Most girls would fawn over a stone that big, but not Haruhi. The precious stones wasn't the reason she loves the ring, but the person who gave it to her was what made her treasure the ring above all else. To Haruhi, that single silver colored band was all she had that connects her with Kyouya.
'Well, not for long.'
Haruhi allowed herself a small, barely there smile as she rubbed her very pregnant belly. She hadn't told anyone, but sometimes, she felt that there were two pairs of little feet kicking instead of one. Excited she may be, Haruhi can never bring herself to truly smile, knowing that Kyouya will never know of her little secret. She can feel the smile slipping away as she once again traced the silvery band on her ring finger, all the warmth gone from her heart and replaced by cold misery.
"It was my wife's."
Haruhi gasped as she recognized the deep voice. Turning her head ever so slowly towards the door, she silently wished that she could sink into the luxurious king sized bed with its silk bed wear, comforter and all. Haruhi can practically feel her heart pushing and forcing its way out of her chest when her eyes fell on the elegant elderly man at the door to her spacious room. Never, in her life she thought she'd ever see Yoshio Ootori ever again.
Making his way towards the beige covered bed, he made himself comfortable in a chair directly by Haruhi's side. "It's a family heirloom." He nodded at the ring that Haruhi was nervously fiddling with. "I wondered where it went." After a few moments of silence, Yoshio lifted his cold grey eyes to make contact with the now dull chocolate orbs.
"I do not understand why my son chose you." He began. "I don't mean to be insensitive, but I expected my son to choose someone… more."
Haruhi narrowed her eyes at the evident insult Yoshio shot at her. Folding her hands neatly on her belly, Haruhi sat up straighter against the many pillows Natsue arranged and held the old man's accusing gaze. "Of course you don't." Haruhi acidly replied. "You, as far as I know, never took much time to get to know your own son." She smiled coldly. "Do you deny it?"
"No, I do not." One of Yoshio's eyebrow disappeared behind his hairline in surprise at Haruhi's daring reply. The girl was braver than he thought. "But I do know that my son has high taste in everything including women, and you, my dear.. is ordinary." He smirked. "Do you deny it?"
Haruhi scoffed. "Actually, I do deny it." Turning her face away from the senior Ootori, Haruhi gazed at the blue sky from one of the large windows. "I am anything but ordinary, Ootori-san. If you came here to break me, don't bother." And if Yoshio had been listening attentively instead of seeing red, he would've heard her whispered, "Your son already done that without even trying."
"I see that you're arrogant as well as stupid." Yoshio got up from the chair, glaring at Haruhi. "Did you really think my son will stay with you when he can have any woman he desire?" He snorted, forgetting his 'I'm-bloody-graceful-and-aristocratic,-fear-me' act. "I think not."
"That wasn't arrogance, Ootori-san." Haruhi said sharply. "It was me telling you that I'm stronger than you think. And as for stupid, I think you mistaken my supposedly low IQ level for yours." Haruhi, as shaken as she was feeling, felt good saying that last bit. Maybe it was the pent up anger she was harboring these past couple of months.
No one had ever called him stupid in his living memory. Ever. People feared him, respected him, thrive in pleasing him. But there she was, a little girl barely 16 years old, insulting his intelligence. Even that Suoh boy didn't dare to insult him like she did, although he had to admit that the threats the boy threw at him were worth alerting his private police squad. Trying desperately to compose himself, Yoshio squared his shoulders and glared daggers at Haruhi who held his glare without flinching.
"And why, pray tell, would you say that my dear?"
"Because, Ootori-san," Haruhi smirked, her hands twitched a little as a jolt went through her body. "You think that you can gain control over your son when it is clear that he wants nothing to do with you if he can help it. Don't think I don't know about the length you had to go to just so Kyouya would listen to you." Haruhi paused, letting the threat linger.
Taking a deep breath, Yoshio straightened his tie and clasped his hands behind his back. "I see that young Suoh told you about the arrangement I made with Kyouya." Though he may not show it, Yoshio was starting to regret coming his decision in confronting Haruhi.
"Obviously." Haruhi rolled her eyes. "I won't give you the satisfaction of knowing that you hurt me, Ootori-san. In case you haven't notice, I have friends supporting me all the way and nothing you do will ever hurt me." As Haruhi said those words, the usual spark returned to her dull eyes, making them twinkle slightly in the morning light.
"Don't give yourself too much credit, Miss Fujioka." Yoshio laughed mirthlessly. "I did not intend to hurt you at all. I did what I did to protect my son and my family reputation." He stated. "I would never waste my effort on you."
"Well, I'm glad you're smart enough to do so." Haruhi smiled coldly as she suppressed the urge to twitch at second jolt that went up her spine. "I don't mean to insult you, Ootori-san. But you should know that I am not as fragile as I seem."
"Then excuse me for getting rid of him for you."
Haruhi and Yoshio both turned their heads towards the doorway, a little taken aback at the look on Tamaki's face as he stood there with his fist clenched while the others stared coldly at the old business man over the King's shoulder. "Mori-senpai." Tamaki said curtly. "Please show our guest to the main entrance. I believe his limo is waiting for him."
Mori sent a quick look at Tamaki and stepped into Haruhi's room. "Please," His deep voice cut through the air with finality laced into it. Waving his left arm in the direction of the door, Mori watched as Yoshio stiffly marched towards the exit. The Host Club parted for the old man, not one of them bothered to exchange pleasantries with him. Not even sweet Honey-senpai who was acting as cold as Tamaki.
Stopping abruptly, Yoshio craned his neck a little to catch a last glimpse of Haruhi before saying, "I never said you were fragile, Miss Fujioka. I know you are not." With that, he left the room with Mori walking closely behind him.
The cold air seemed to slowly dispersed after Ootori senior's departure, causing Haruhi to sigh in relieve. Gently caressing her belly, Haruhi looked questioningly at the men standing in her doorway. "How did you know?"
"Taka-chan and I saw Ootori-san in the hallway." Honey smiled brightly as he bounced onto Haruhi's bed. Taking Haruhi's silence as an 'ok', the rest of the club piled into the velvet covered room and settled into sofas and wing-back reading chairs. "Is Haru-chan all right?" Honey peered at Haruhi with his large eyes, the coldness gone without a trace. Haruhi smiled at the loli-shota before sharing that smile with the rest of the club. She knew, however, that there wasn't much time to loose.
"Tamaki-senpai," Haruhi whispered as everyone's eyes shifted towards their leader who cringed, expecting somekind of verbal abuse. "Can you please get Natsue for me? I think.. I think it's almost time."
It took awhile for her words to sink in-a minute and a half to be exact- but when it did, the Host Club did what they do best: fall into complete chaos. As Tamaki bolted for the door, Hikaru and Kaoru spoke simultaneously into their respective cell phones, shouting something that was completely lost to Haruhi who was biting her lips to hold back the cry of pain. Honey attempted to shove Bun-Bun into her arms but was thwarted by Mori who came in just in time to force the little blond to give Haruhi some space.
Tamaki paced the drawing room with his hands in his hair, all the while muttering frantically in French while the others determinedly avoided looking at the distressed King. They weren't better off themselves, truth be told. Hikaru was a nervous wreck, hands covering his face while Kaoru stood staring blankly out the window, face drained of all colors. Honey seemed hell-bent into finishing a particularly large cheese-cake in record time as Mori watched, but not really seeing.
Yes, the Hosts were a right mess and none of them seem to realize that the maids who weren't needed by the doctor were fussing over them, bringing hot tea, freshly baked cookies, puffing up pillows, and cooing at how sweet they were to be so worried about dear Madam Fujioka.
None of the men heard anything save for Haruhi's occasional moans of pain and sobs that went through their hearts like white hot daggers. Fear for their princess' life kept one particular thought from their minds, a thought that none of them (not even Mori and Honey) wished to be bothered with. After what seemed like hours, the first sound of an infant crying echoed through the mansion, flooding the men with relief. Tamaki fell to his knees and positively burst into tears, Honey dropped his fork, excitedly throwing his arms around Mori who pat his head affectionately, Hikaru punched his fist into the air in triumph, a goofy grin on his face while Kaoru collapsed into the nearest arm-chair with an enormous sigh.
Their happiness, however, was short-lived as the doctor walked into the room with a grim expression on her face. The tearful sound and the childish voice died away as Doctor Fujiwara looked at them, one at a time before telling them the dreaded news. When she did, the air grew still as though each living thing inside the drawing room had died. She left them with their faces blank and chalk white, each trying extremely hard to grasp the horrible, horrible news.
Mori was the first to recover. He stood from the arm chair he was occupying and kneeled beside a violently shaking Tamaki. From his pocket, he took out his cell phone and gently slipped it into Tamaki's trembling hands. "He has to know," he whispered.
Nodding slightly, Tamaki struggled with the numbers and swallowed hard as the sound of the caller tone reverberated in his ears. As expected, no one answered and Tamaki spoke to the voicemail system, only managing to utter a few words:
"Haruhi…twins… complication… dead."
I dont think i like this chapter very much. Something is just.. off about it. Meh. I dunno. You tell me in your reviews, ok? I refuse to say anything about chapter 18. I've made up my mind and whoever died (bless their soul) will stay dead. God, I'm evil.
Ps: The lyrics came from 'When You're Gone' by Avril Lavigne. Not mine. But nice song, though.