Title: Glass doors, notes and several attempts to unmask Kyouya Ootori.

Author: NYC Lovers

Category: Original

Disclaimer: Ouran High School Host Club by Hatori Bisco. Unfortunately I can't own Kyouya (sigh dramatically).

Genres: Romance, Slice of Life.

Rating: T

Status: Completed.

Warning: Maybe a little OOC. I tried my best to keep Kyouya and Haruhi in character. Please tell me if I didn't so I can improve.

A/N: Yay! I finally found some time to write a Kyouya and Haruhu oneshot (thanks God for holiday, otherwise I have to work). I have been reading too much of them recently, you can call me obsessed (sweats nervously). It was fun trying to write in this style.

Please read and review, curses are preferable.

Glass doors, notes and several attempts to unmask Kyouya Ootori

Merits

Once in a while, she often thought about what it was like being a lawyer. Well, that sounded like her six years ago, but it happened even till lately, some days a few times more than others.

Once in a while, she often thought about what it was like being an Oorori, a Souh, or a Hitachiin. Perhaps, it sounded more serious, sometimes glamorous, six years ago. Now it was just mindless thoughts, wandering about, waiting to fill the emptiness of her rented home. Strangely, it happened even till lately, some days a few times more than others.

Once in a while, she often let her thoughts linger back to the time she was in high school, about the people she met there, about the relationships she shared with them. She thought about Tamaki more than others. Probably because they dated for sometimes. Sixteen, she did not fully understand the word 'relationship'. Sixteen, she was controlled by hormones rather than logic. Tamaki was seventeen, which made it not much of a different. They had a wild ride, but it ended. Not exactly, they grew up. Being an understanding guy he had always been, they shook their hands before she left his place in Boston.

Once in a while, she caught Tamaki's silhouette standing at the corner of her street, looking at the apartment complex she was staying. The hosts never lost track of her, that, she was sure, was Kyouya's doing. He had always been great at 'stalking' people. Protecting, they all said. That made her impossible to forget them, but the past was the past. Their busy lives dragged them away from each other, especially her, who had to work two part time jobs to ensure her ends meet. A meeting turned into phone calls. Phone calls turned into texts. Texts turned into emails. Emails could not keep hopes too high.

Once in a while, she realised how successful she was, in her terms, of course. She was grateful for it. That brought her back to square one, being a lawyer actually felt a lot like being an Ootori. Not in the filthy rich and ridiculously famous manner, but in the seeking ways to benefit herself. Of course, to win a case, she had to look for merits in others. She hated to admit it but a great deal of 'looking for merits in others' was from Kyouya. When she was mature enough to connect all the dots, she thought about him more than others.

Once in a while, she stumbled across her old pencil that was sold for the price of her three–month allowance (she got it back, eventually). She was not sure who stole it, but she was sure Kyouya was the one behind the whole thing, from planning what he needed to put on the web to actually taking it and making money from it. She was mad, damn right she was. But it became a habit. Now when she lost some little things at work, she had to fight against an impulse to call the twins and scold them, but it was just ridiculous. That could not happen. At least anymore. Honestly, sometimes she wished she could find some item of hers online, a hundred times more than what it was actually worth. Some days a few times more than the others.

Once in a while, she regretted not catching up with any of the hosts.

Haruhi Fujioka just got off from work. She did not really like the case, but it could give her career a great boost; therefore, the young lawyer took it. She was young, and her ego was quite big. And since her dreams only started to come true, she wanted to taste more of it. Those filthy rich bastards had merits after all. The most surprising thing was how calm she was when she contemplated it. Haruhi smirked faintly, sometimes, she felt like she understood Kyouya. He merely did it for the sake of making profits. But then what? Then she would feel like she did not know Kyouya at all? What was made of him behind those glasses? Sometimes, she just wanted to unmask Kyouya.

Damn, she thought about him too much. To put it more precisely, she daydreamed about him too much.

Oh dear mother in heaven, really? She started to see things? Haruhi was in front of one damn place she thought he could never show up to.

Haruhi's office was situated right in the heart of Tokyo. Late nights like this, she enjoyed walking along the pavements leaded to the station. Haruhi was not all fancy about the brightness of the wealthy world, but she enjoyed illuminated places. They made her feel less lonely about her own existence in the world. That was why she chose to walk rather than taking a five–minute bus to the station.

There was one particular café she would love to visit… if she ever had the dare to spend a week worth of bentos over a cup of coffee. She always walked pass there, just to admire the beauty of it. But tonight, she did not expect to see a familiar silhouette sitting inside that place.

He stilled looked insanely good (by saying 'insanely' she admitted that she had thought about him too damn much) in that three–piece suit. No one dare to think he was a student with such royalty aura surrounded him. Tailored suits, hand embroidered tie, black, shiny leather shoes and a Rolex watch, they basically screamed that he was one of the elites.

People gasped.

His lady companion just emptied the whole content of her cup into his face. Haruhi froze in horror. She was standing outside, yet somehow she could still sense the cold, dark aura radiated from him. People started paying their attention to him too, including those who were standing outside.

Knowing Kyouya (did she?), Haruhi could imagine what went down between the two. As soon as the lady exit the place with her face covered in the crimson colour, Haruhi felt bad for her. It was probably one of Kyouya's speeches about merits (which Haruhi learnt to sit through without any stir in her emotions, otherwise she would be exported to some deserted countries by now). He seriously did not change at all.

Anyways, Kyouya Ootori still looked dazzling even though he was damped, and probably smelled like strawberry milkshake right now.

Then, the weirdest, and (perhaps) most amazing thing, happened: He caught her eyes.

She was standing right in his sight. All it took for him was lifting his head up. She could see his eyes widen with astonishment, but his body loosened up a bit after realising that it was her, not those five idiots, who saw him that way. He was annoyed of her presence, but she could tell that he was fine by the fact that now he had someone to focus on.

But that was as far as he got: staring. Soon, Haruhi felt uncomfortable because those onyx eyes were deducting her, questioning a lot of things about her. People started noticing too. They whispered loudly about who she was, obviously they knew who he was. Haruhi looked down to her old shoes for a few seconds before a thought crossed her mind. Of course, there was no way she would get in there and deal with the low blood–pressure Shadow King he was right now. Haruhi pulled out a pen and a notebook. She wrote something down and walked over, pressing it against the glass. It said:

'I'm free if you need to talk.'

His expression changed a bit. He gave her a smile when he was still covered in that mushy stuff they called milkshake. Everyone was quite surprised when he pulled out his notebook and scripted something down with that expensive pen of his. Kyouya put the note up. Haruhi's heart sunk a little bit.

'Not right now. But thank you.'

She replied with a misty smile:

'Good night then, Kyouya–senpai.'

As she was about to walk away, Haruhi heard some knocking on the glass. She turned around and saw Kyouya was writing something down. His eyes looked up and caught hers effortlessly. They just drew her in in the most natural way.

'Thank you, Haruhi. I will call you soon (I have your number, don't bother to give me). I promise. Spare some lunch time for me in the future.'

Haruhi nodded. Kyouya beamed softly.

He wrote something again.

'You train will leave in five minutes. Run, Haruhi, run.'

'Damn it Kyouya–senpai!' She shouted and picked her feet up to catch the train back to her home. Strangely, she was smiling the whole time running and catching her breath.

Her

Once in a while, he often thought about what it was like being an Ootori. That was a question he failed to give the correct answer to, especially after a meeting of his father. He learnt something new from each meeting. And being an Ootori was much more than just carrying the last name. Sometimes, he felt exhausted after dealing with so much twists and darkness. Some days a few times more than others. What was the merit in caring too much?

Once in a while, he often thought about what it was like being a commoner. He was disgusted by that thought at first. He had learnt from his father and his brothers that commoner was a different species. When he was old enough to realise that notion was just horrible, he still could not find a flaw in his father. But the thoughts stayed, longer than he had ever expected. It was… six years, maybe, since he had met a commoner. Nothing much about her at first beside curiosity, but she was more than just what he thought she was. He found himself pondering about her, some days a few times more than others. What was the merit in caring too much?

Once in a while, he often thought about all the unsuccessful relationships he had while he was in university. By saying thought, he meant criticising those mindless and spoiled young women he had the misfortune to encounter. Or rarely, they were shiny at first, but his last name spoiled them eventually. He suspected that too, but since there was nothing better for him to do, he sat back and devised his future, with or without romantic 'relationship'. What was the merit in caring too much?

Once in a while, he sat down with the hosts to do some catching up. They were the rare occasions he actually enjoyed himself. Nineteen, it felt great seeing them again, because they were not as placid, one–dimensional as his peers at university. And she was sitting a bit far away from him. But that was okay, he did not brag about it. She was not beneficial. Twenty, nothing changed but, except from how much they had grown. Twenty–one, twenty–two, time moved on. So did he. He was too busy helping his father managing the Ootori business. They were too busy taking care of themselves. They all let things slide away. Occasionally, he thought about her, but that was his curiosity's doing. And to stop the twins from crying over the phones or Tamaki from whining hours and hours, he kept an eye on her from time to time.

Once in a while, he realised how lonely he was. He had everything he wanted. What about those things he needed? No, they were too expensive, even an Ootori could not pay for it. But the solitary of the night often brought the question up. The emptiness also brought her up. He was convinced that she was just a small bump in his life, because her word was different from his. In the end, his mind kept on reminiscing about the carefree time he had with the host club, with her. Now all he possessed was this big fat room full of silence, as if it could not get enough. His universe kept moving forward. So did she. The worlds never collided. But would it be nice though?

Once in a while, he stumbled across the old stacks on unused photos back in the days. Even though everyone tried to sneaked a photo of her out of his drawer when they visited him, he still had a few photos left. She looked just fine. One thing changed. She was all grown up the last time he checked on her. His bodyguards reported that she had a steady job, enough to support herself. She stilled lived in an apartment complex that suited her commoner background. But she seemed content. He wondered how much she had learnt after facing the real world. That sounded mean, but did she get the meaning of the word 'merit' by now?

Once in a while, he regretted not catching up with any of the hosts. And her.

It turned out people was right when they said 'Be careful with what you wish for'. He felt it was threatening after he wished he wanted to see her again. Oddly, out of all the commoner and the rich, Kyouya Ootori found it was far more entertaining talking with Haruhi than with those well–mannered ladies (were they really that well–manner?).

Damn, he thought about her too much. To put it more precisely, he daydreamed about her too much.

His current so–called girlfriend was bragging on about some stuff he did not bother to care about. Kyouya was fighting his need to massage his temples while her big mouth did not stop blabbering for one bloody second. Oh God, at least his father should put some effort in finding him a woman. They were all tasteless, worst of all, brainless. Was this another test from his father, seeing how long Kyouya would break? He was feeling like he would, right here right now. This dull creature started to feel like cancer, slowly smothering him with fatuous rants about… actually he did not really care.

Until her strawberry milkshake flew across the table and hit him.

He did not bother to do anything, Kyouya Ootori knew how to stare people down. He knew his glare was famous for its deathliness and he had a generous amount of time practicing to perfect that glare with too many idiots around him. He shooed that woman away with less than thirty seconds just by simply switching to his Shadow King mode. Worked every damn time. His father would not be pleased to hear about it, but the thing with her needed to end. He was really at his breaking point with her. And he always knew how to get out of the trouble. On his father table in the study had already lied three proposals for the Ootoris to gain profits three times more than merging with that girl's family.

When he looked up and about to leave, he found Haruhi Fujioka was standing right outside the café. Come to think about it, she worked nearby. The last time he heard about her wellbeing, she enjoyed walking home. Something about the brightness, Tamaki said once, he guessed. She did not change a single bit. Still a commoner to her core. Her clothes may look formal and all that but the material and the way it was unfit for her body actually betrayed her.

He was glad that it was her who saw him like that, not the rest of the host club. They would make a fuss anyway. But at the same time, he wished she did not see the uncool side of him. Not classy at all, covering in milkshake like this.

She noticed him staring too. Haruhi's eyes glued to the ground for a few seconds before she pulled out her notebook and wrote something. The way she walked over and put it on the glass for him to see was somehow satisfying. She was drawn to him, no less.

'I'm free if you need to talk.'

Kyouya felt content. He really did. Haruhi still cared about him. Unconsciously, he gave her his rarest smile of contentment. He noticed the girls around were gasping when he pulled out his notebook and replied to Haruhi. Who did they think they really were anyway? Being able to afford to sit in this café did not really make them better than the commoner girl out there.

Anyway, he was in no mood to chat right now. No matter how understanding she could be, Haruhi would just pull a comforting Tamaki, which he did not need.

'Not right now. But thank you.'

For a brief moment, he thought her eyes flashed the faintest sight of disappointment, in spite of the smile on her lips. He felt guilty when she said:

'Good night then, Kyouya–senpai.'

Haruhi looked just like a puppy. That was alarmingly not good.

Kyouya felt an urge to say something back. He did not want to end their unexpected meeting after years like this. Six, was it? Like an instinct, he knocked on the glass softly to call her back. She turned around, eyes brighter than before.

'Thank you, Haruhi. I will call you soon (I have your number, don't bother to give me). I promise. Spare some lunch time for me in the future.'

His kouhai nodded and he felt relieved. Suddenly he wanted to tease her like old days. He wrote down a white lie he knew she was going to believe. Because there was a rare moment he actually remembered he was Kyouya Ootori. And Kyouya Ootori had the ability to scare people, even with empty threats.

'You train will leave in five minutes. Run, Haruhi, run.'

'Damn it Kyouya–senpai!'

He swore he laughed out loud when Haruhi shouted behind the glass. He did not care if his action frightened people or caused a gossip or two landed on tomorrow tabloids. All he cared about was making some plan to see her again.

But not so soon. No rush needed. Haruhi was a very patient person. So was he.

Corner

It had been months since they last met, Kyouya was literally buried in endless piles of work. He could sense the involvement of his father in this, because the last time he broke up with his potential wife, the tabloids made quite a story about it. Just because he replied to Haruhi with a (few) note(s). Of course, no matter how bright she was, Yoshio Ootori would never look at her because of her commoner background. Those ridiculous work was a pathetic attempt to stop him from seeing her again. But there was one thing even his father could not control: his mind. He often let it wander about her, about how petite she was, about how innocent her big brown eyes were when they stared at him. Something about her, he could not put a finger on it, but it was so pure that he was afraid the darkness around him would consume it in a heartbeat.

She was upset, he could tell. The first few weeks she was waiting for him. His bodyguards reported that she always had lunch alone, staring out of the canteen window to find a familiar silhouette. Haruhi did not really care about having a mobile phone before, but lately she carried it with her almost every time she went out, even to the groceries. But after a while, her life returned to normal. She figured he probably had forgotten about her. She resumed her habit of eating lunch with her coworkers, leaving her mobile phone to gather dust. She had a bright life ahead.

Haruhi changed into sneakers, preparing for a long walk to the train station as per usual. Lately, she changed her route to a longer one, avoiding that café she caught him a few months ago. Turned out he did not call. She wondered if he remembered her at all? Or did he finally realised she was just a burden to his life (could be, the tabloids did make quite a story about him and her anyway, caused her big troubles at work)?

The moment she stood up was the moment she had a delivery. It was a white envelope with the Ootori logo on it. His handwriting was unmistakable. Who could forget it really? The handwriting that constantly increase her debt while she was in the host club, causing her nightmares (sometimes pleasant, enjoyable ones, but that rarely happened). She hurriedly opened it.

Haruhi did not know what she expected to see, but a piece of paper, seemingly to be torn out from a notebook was not it. Kyouya Ootori was not the type who sent people, even a commoner like her, a wrinkled piece of paper.

Nor was Kyouya the reminiscing type of guy.

But he was surely full of surprises. Haruhi's lips curved up into a small smile when she noticed that was the note he wrote to her a few months back, about how he was going to call her later (but he did not keep that promise). On the back of his scripted his apology:

'Haruhi,

Sorry I can't call you as I promised. I don't have any good excuse so I'll just leave it there. I'm not going to make empty promises anymore. So don't wait up. I won't forget about what I said. I'll call you when I can. And you'll see me when you see me.

Kyouya.'

Haruhi felt a bit disappointed, but at least it was much better than before. She remembered waiting for him to call her until she was physically and mentally worn out. She should have known better the type of person Kyouya was, and the type of person his father was. And most of all, where she was standing. This time, somewhere in her mind just really trusted that he would definitely get in touch.

That night, Haruhi resumed her normal route to the station. She walked pass that fully illuminated café without a sunken heart.

Hardly did she know there was a corner in the place where she could not observe from the outside. Haruhi glanced at the place briefly, just like old times, without noticing that someone was sitting in that corner, pretending to read a book and watching her every move. He was dressed in the most expensive manner, wearing a pair of glasses that only made him more attractive. As soon as she was in his sight, he smiled with great amusement. The man was pleased, knowing that his words still influenced her greatly. As soon as she was out of his sight, he left the delighted face one could see in an Ootori, especially Kyouya.

Mall

Fuyumi always had a weird craving for commoner places, as if she inherited it from that idiotic blonde, aka his best friend, Tamaki Suoh. During one random weekend of his life, his sister could drag him to all the commoner malls without caring that he actually had a lot of work to finish.

Like this Sunday for example. He remembered vividly that the clock said five in the morning when he finally slipped into his comfy bed. But Fuyumi woke him up around seven in the morning, despite that he switched into his usual low blood–pressure demon self that usually frightened Tamaki and the twins out of their wits. How many places did they go to since eight bloody in the morning again? Kyouya massaged his temples when his sister let his arms go and dashed into a store nearby. He took a good look around, hm, this looked like the mall he had been to before? The time with Tamaki, was it not? The time he was forced to be in something–called–an–unwilling–date with Haruhi, right?

Yes, the fast-food store confirmed it.

'Knock, knock!'

The knocking sounds caught his attention.

Oh, this was becoming a habit.

Ootori's third son found Haruhi Fujioka was sitting in that place, at the table right next to where he was standing, except that there was a glass window between them. She was wearing a simple summer dress and a cardigan. Her long hair was tied up in a small bun. He thought it suited her greatly, much better than the tomboy hair she kept in high school. Haruhi just smiled and gestured to two kids sitting opposite to her. Her neighbours so it seemed.

He responded to that smile tenderly and typed something in his smartphone, which just happened to be the latest model. Haruhi gave him that look when she was about to say 'Damn those rich bastards!', but he could tell she was well pleased to see him. Better, he was the one who started the conversation.

'It's good to see you here.' Kyouya gently pressed the phone against the glass.

'How many hours did you sleep last night?' Haruhi wrote on a notebook she bought with her. He chuckled softly, feeling content, as he realised that she really cared about him, so tenderly that it was somewhat uncomfortable in his cold, cold heart.

Kyouya counted and put two fingers up as Haruhi wrote a new note:

'It's good to see you here too, senpai.' And a sweet beam.

'My sister can be a burden sometimes.' He typed.

'Sorry for that.'

'Kyouya, let's go!' Fuyumi appeared out of nowhere and dragged him away the instant Haruhi put her note down, not giving Kyouya any chance to reply. Haruhi was not upset over that, instead, she chuckled and waved goodbye. And the nod and that brief smile from the Shadow King absolutely made her day.

A few days later, Kyouya received an envelope from Haruhi Fujioka. It seemed like she had gone through great length to find a decent envelope that could match his status. That was unnecessary. If only she knew a note from her meant million times more than the status itself. Because the times he let his thoughts spelled her name or drew her silhouette, were the times he felt most alive.

That was a note she wrote for him in the mall. 'It's good to see you here too, senpai.' He thought he could hear she said it in her melodic tone.

In the back, it read thusly:

'Kyouya–senpai,

You look better when you're with someone you care about (your sister and the hosts).

I won't promise I'll call you either. You were the one who promise to make the call. Just for once senpai, keep the promise, I'd like to see you try. I don't mind waiting, now knowing that you have too much to deal with (I had a short chat with Honey–senpai over the phone earlier).

But I won't wait. Really, I won't. You'll see me when you see me.

Haruhi.'

Mask

That was one rainy day a year later or so.

Haruhi found herself running as fast as she could to find a roof to avoid the rain. She just had a meeting with her boss. A promotion was it about. Weird, the sun should be shining at this moment since everything in her life was getting better and better. The young lawyer brushed off a few raindrops on her shoulder, gazing at the grey sky above. Urg, she was too far away from the train or bus station and she did not really want to waste money on a taxi, her father's birthday was coming up. Hell, she did not have anything to do later that day anyway. She could just wait till the rain stopped. As long as it did not have any thunder, she would be fine.

'Knock, knock!'

The knocking sounds caught her attention.

Oh, this definitely had become a habit.

Kyouya Ootori was sitting right at the table next to where she was standing, except there was a glass window separated them, just like old days. He never grinned widely or showed anyone his teeth (shame one was that, she was sure he had the most captivate grin ever). There he was, the same old Kyouya with a soft, soft smile that could really light up the gloomy sky.

'Would you like to come in?' Kyouya wrote.

Haruhi shook her head gently. No, she would never let him get what he wanted. He had to come to her! He was the one who did not keep his promise.

There was a loud roar form the sky.

Haruhi startled and rushed to… Kyouya. She did not reach him (obviously), but she hit her head against the glass door (obviously). It hurt. Okay, fine, he won.

No, wait? Another roar from above. Haruhi closed her eyes tightly and covered her ears. She was alone after all. He was right there, yet it was impossible to touch him. Why did it have to be like that all the time? What did it take him to get his arse right out here, right now?

Haruhi took a quick glance at his seat and Kyouya was nowhere to be found.

'Then I have to come out to you, Haruhi.'

She turned around and saw him standing just a few breath away from her. Kyouya was so close that Haruhi thought she could smell his cologne.

That was the moment she did not care about the thunder anymore. It could scream and shout as much as it wanted. She was in the safest place in the whole damn world: his arms. Kyouya Ootori was holding her close, so close that she could hear his heart slowly betraying his emotionless face.

She finally unmasked Kyouya Ootori.

— Fin —

12: 07 pm, Ho Chi Minh City, 02/05/2014,

NYC Lovers

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