Prompt: I like pretending.

I believe Hikaru's the most complicated character in the entire series. Any reason why? Yes, he doesn't even have a set personality. Therefore, fanfiction writers guess what he's thinking, he's simple, he's dense, he's overprotective, but really, Hikaru's the most unpredictable and contridictory person in the Host Club. Ever. D: I mean it. Not even Kaoru can compare. So, I wrote this just to see if I could write Hikaru totally in character. And if you think this is too confusing to follow... then, well, blame Hikaru. :D

Also, because Hikaru's the character easiest to be OOC and used with tons of personalities, these are his thoughts if he found out how the community thought about him. He just never angst properly with me, does he?

By the way, if you think this is in Kaoru's POV, then you're... wrong. It's Hikaru's. Kaoru's would be a lot more consistent, a little less confident, and a lot less contridctions. And guess what: you can't tell what pairing this is! :D Wonderful, ne? In fact, you can't even tell what the hell Hikaru's thinking! :D

Yeah, he's that much confused, and denying it. Just if you don't get my message in this weird monologue. :3

Warning: A couple of swears (I don't remember), a ton of confusion, so be prepared to read in depth. A little angst, if you see it. :P

Disclaimer: I don't own anything I used here, because, if I did, Hikaru wouldn't be that confused about his feelings.

I like playing pretend.

It's an easy thing to do.

I'd smile, laugh, say that I'm having fun, that it's really fun, and everyone would believe that I'm happy. I'd frown, scoff, say that it's annoying me, that it doesn't really even matter to me, and everyone would believe that I'm angry.

They don't know how wrong they are.

They don't know.

Like that fake fight.

I know that I was just pretending it all, and that he was just pretending it all, just for some fun, just for some games, just to relieve us of our boredom.

Some believe we were really fighting, and some of them think that it's just a script.

Those who think we were really fighting are blind and those who think it's just a script are in denial.

But they don't know.

I thought it would be fun to see what others think of us, of me, of him. Because everyone was nothing compared to us, so why should we even care about their words, their opinions, their thoughts?

They're all idiots. Each and every one of them.

And he, they think I'm one too.

I just point out something obvious, with my blankest face ever, as if I had no idea what the hell I was talking about. I lie when I pretend that I'm not surprised that commoners love mass-produced snacks, and I lie when I pretend that I'm shocked to find out that green tea flavored pocky really do exist! That I'm lying when I say that it was obvious that milord liked Haruhi- That I'm lying when I say that the friendship I have with Haruhi is too confusing to understand-

He thinks I'm an idiot. That I don't know what I'm doing at all. That I'm too immature to know what he's even talking about. That I don't know anything about love.

I pretend to not know love at first sight. I pretend not to know love as a brother. I pretend not to know loving my other half. I pretend to not know any type of love, if it would only give him some peace that I don't know anything that could get me into trouble.

I pretend I'm an idiot.

So that he wouldn't be one.

I like playing pretend.

We used to do that when we were little. I would always pretend I was a different person, a fashion designer, a graphic artist, a mailman, a pilot, a rock climber, everything. I don't remember one thing that I didn't pretend to be.

I loved to play. I loved to pretend.

I loved to act as if I hated all the stupid adults; I loved to act as if I hated everything they represented; I loved to act as if I was on the top of the world and everyone but he and I were our servants and had to do everything I said they had to do. He only watched me pretend, and I knew he was playing as well.

We always played, always pretended to be people we're not.

And it stuck with me.

I pretend that everything's the same as before. I pretend that everything's not the same as before. I pretend that ever since Haruhi entered our lives nothing will change. I pretend that ever since she told us apart everything will change.

I always pretended that I didn't know what I was doing and that I knew exactly what was going to happen.

I pretend that he is still my brother and that there isn't a large gap of emptiness between us. I pretend that he's not my other half and that there's a void where he always should've been. I pretend that he's still pretending like me and that we are not changing for the worst. I pretend that he's stopped playing this game and moved on without me.

I pretend that he's still pretending to be like me, when it's just the other way around.

I pretend that he's living his own life different from me, when it's just the other way around.

I pretend that he's still my brother, my other half, my soul mate, when it's just us, and just the world between us.

I pretend that he's still pretending like I am, that he's also acting like I am, when I wish, on the inside, that all the pretense, all the lies were actually real.

I pretend that I don't know our world is collapsing. I pretend to still understand what that means for us. I pretend that I don't know what he's thinking. I pretend that I still know what he means.

I pretend to be the person he expects me to be, so he still knows what to say, what to do for me, because in his eyes, I'm still pretending I'm his light in the darkness, his reassurance, when it's been the other way around the entire time.

So, I pretend for him. I play that game we played long ago, the one where we knew what the other was thinking, saying, doing, about to think, about to say, and about to do.

I pretend that he doesn't think it was a game, that he thinks it's just natural instincts; and I pretend that he doesn't think that I was lying; that he thinks that I'm honest, truthful, trusting.

But he doesn't know.

He doesn't know that after all these years, I'm still pretending; he doesn't know that I still like pretending.

I still like pretending to be anyone I want, anytime I want.

I like pretending that I'm an oblivious idiot, obsessed over Haruhi, ignorant to my brother, still in my, our, world and still pretend I'm not.

I'm pretending to the world.

Just so he doesn't have to.

I like playing pretend.

I like pretending Hikaru doesn't exist.

It's the easiest thing to do, especially when he's not there.

All I have to do is sweep my hair to the opposite side and it would flop to the right, casually, normally, usually, like it was always supposed to be that way. All I have to do is smile blissfully and help people eagerly, happily, selflessly, and pretend that I never really hated them in the first place. All I have to do is do nothing that reminds anyone of Hikaru, the elder twin, pray that they wouldn't do anything stupid, and continue being someone who I'm not.

And everyone would think I'm not Hikaru.

I pretend I don't know what's happening.

My cold hands slip into my pant pockets, as I run my eyes over the almost empty halls. My mouth opens slightly, as I gaze down the corridor, and seeing nothing, I turn my head to the other side, my hazel eyes staring critically around my surroundings.

But I do know. He's gone again.

"Hitachiin-kun," I flinch as a curious voice snaps me out of my intense gaze, the question nervous and tentative, "Aren't you supposed to be at art class?"

"Well!" I turn around quickly, sheepishly scratching at head, slyly shifting my hair to the other side, "I lost Hikaru when he just suddenly ran off," I slide a finger onto my chin, feigning deep thinking (because I'm good at pretending to think). Quickly, I turn towards him, a brunette, a polite smile wandering onto my face, "Seen him?"

He shakes his head, visibly loosening as he takes in the smile because Kaoru wouldn't outright murder him.

"Ah, he should tell me when he feels like leaving next time, ne?" I cock my head to the side, my soft smile loosening into a pout. I shift my weight to rest of my left leg, my tone playful, "Always leaving me alone," I run a hand through my brown hair, before smiling again and waving to him, "Ja, Chiyiro-san! Hikaru might not even be in the Art Room, so keep an eye out for-"

"Hikaru!"

I only blink, unfazed as my twin brother runs up to me, slightly out of breath.

"Why didn't you stop me, Hikaru?" he asks, his breath erratic. He places a hand on his hip, his hazel eyes looking at me, "If you needed to do stuff, you could've told me!"

Chiyiro stares questionably, his dark eyes darting back and forth between us, like we are finally playing out own game, the "Which One is Hikaru-kun" game.

"Hikaru?" I quirk my brow, my crossing, "Are you being weird again, Hikaru?"

He blinks at me, blank, not knowing what game's being played, "What are you talking about, Hikaru?"

"I mean," I frown slightly, "You're Hikaru."

He looks at me, before widening his eyes and dropping the subject altogether, concern lining his face, "Hikaru, what's wrong?"

"Are you still playing that game with me, Hikaru?" I seethe quietly, my hazel eyes flashing, "I don't like it."

"Hikaru," he said sternly, his hazel eyes piercing mine, "This isn't funny. I mean it, what's wrong with you?"

Can't you tell, Kaoru?

"We're going to be late for art," I loosen my strict gaze, my voice lowering timidly, "So drop the subject and let's go."

"Hikaru."

I sigh, rubbing my temple tiredly, my voice soft, "Just stop it. I'm getting tired of it all. Let's just go to class, Hikaru."

"No, really, Hikaru," he takes two unhesitant steps closer to me; I take two steps back. "What's wrong? Why the hell are you playing this?"

Because I want to.

"Is it me? Hikaru?" and his voice lowers to that pitch that my own voice can't copy. The mask is breaking, the pretense is falling, and then Kaoru can ask me "why," "what's wrong?"-

I'm not letting him.

I don't want it to end.

I turn around, my lips set, and just as his hand grazes my shoulder-

I run.

"Which one is Hikaru?"

Even after I went silent, even after I ran away from it-

"And which one is Kaoru?"

Even after Kaoru pressed, even after he asked me 'what's wrong'-

I don't think anyone can tell us apart.

I don't think anyone would know what's going on and why it's happening.

But they know who is who.

Hikaru's the rude and insensitive one, the one who gets angrier a lot easily, the one who's emotionally immature. Hikaru's the selfish one, the one who thinks the world revolves around him, the one who takes everything for granted. Hikaru's the oblivious one, the one who doesn't know what's happening around him, doesn't know why everything's happening as its happening. Hikaru's the one going after Haruhi, and he doesn't even know it. Hikaru's the one who doesn't know how Kaoru feels, how anyone feels.

Hikaru's the one I don't like, the one who isn't like his twin.

That's why I like being Kaoru.

So Hikaru doesn't exist.

That's why I like pretending.

So I'm everything but me.

I like playing pretend.

It's an art that takes years to master, to perfect, an art no one else knows how to play.

It's foolproof, deceiving, misleading, once you know how to pretend. No one would know who you really are. They would only see the masquerade that you're playing, the play that you're weaving. They would only see the one in the front, and assume that's all that's there.

They don't know.

They won't know, will never know.

But this time, he's an exception.

There are two of us in our little world, Hikaru and Kaoru.

The one who's Kaoru isn't Hikaru.

The one who's Hikaru isn't Kaoru.

And only we could tell ourselves apart.

I like playing pretend.

Kaoru doesn't. So I'm not supposed to play pretend when he doesn't know I'm lying. I'm not supposed to act as if I'm Kaoru unless Kaoru's there to act like me. I'm not supposed to like being Kaoru, when it's not me in the first place.

I like playing pretend.

But it's worse if Kaoru knows I am.

"Hikaru?"

I pause, sliding behind the large library shelves, my fingers pulling a slim book out. Pretending to ignore him, I flip open the book, trying to absorb the book and how it's talking about psychology and the inner mind. I flop onto the floor, my back against the wooden shelf, completely aware of when his steps stopped right next to me.

"Hikaru, don't ignore me."

So he's actually able to figure me out, I sigh, and I look up, my eyes steely, bracing myself for whatever lecture he has in store for me now.

"Hikaru."

"Kaoru."

He glances around, probably to see if there were anyone else in sight, and sits next to me, in the way only Kaoru would sit, his left leg propped up, his other resting on the carpet.

"What…" he pauses, maybe to find a good way to phrase whatever he was thinking about, maybe to decide which question to ask me first.

What's wrong? What happened there? Why did you pretend to be me? Did I do something?

I lower my eyes, scanning the small letters in the book, pretending to read, pretending not to cry about how even my own twin brother doesn't know me anymore. I'm just waiting for him to say something, just waiting until he pries the truth out of me.

We never had to resort to questions.

I like playing pretend.

Kaoru doesn't know that; he doesn't know that I'm not the person everyone thinks I am, that I'm not the idiot he expects me to be, that all this time I've been lying to him.

"Hikaru…" he ponders for a moment, before glancing at me, "You know…"

Maybe he's been taking me all wrong all this time.

Maybe he just never understood me.

We're both silent, as I scan the book again, bored, waiting for him to crack it, waiting for him to know.

I sigh, getting tired with this silent game of reading minds, before locking eyes with him, my hand against my cheek, "It's too hard."

It always was.

"Too hard…?" he raises a brow, almost straightening up, alert to my statements. I nod slowly.

"I don't know what to do. I like being honest to myself…" I mumble, closing my eyes so I don't have to look at his reaction, "But I keep hearing how I'm stupid, how I'm an idiot-"

"Wait, when did this-"

"And you're not helping any, Kaoru," I snap, silencing his question with a glare. He simply averts his hazel eyes, eying the opposite bookcase, thinking, contemplating.

And I'm not helping it either.

I drop my glare, and turn away, wondering why it's just programmed into me that I glare at anyone when I don't want them to say anything. I run my hand messily through my hair, trying not to think, trying to see how I can make this all better.

I can't tell him; he wouldn't understand.

I can't be honest; he would never understand.

But I could always pretend.

I bite my lower lip, like I don't want to pretend anymore, and I stand up quickly, brushing the dust off my black pants. He jerks his head up, curious, surprised, as I slide the book back into the shelf.

"Anyway, it's time for art class, Kaoru," I smile slightly, forcing myself to ignore how sad his eyes look because I'm pretending to him as I pretend to everyone else.

"Hi-Hikaru," and I simply cock my head to the side, stretching out a hand to him. He examines it for just a second, before he reaches, clasping his identical hand into mine, feeling as his hand is just a little colder, a little less moist than mine.

We're not really as identical as I want us to be.

He pulls on my hand just lightly, standing up from the floor. "Okay, Hikaru," and I'm confused to as what he wants by that because his voice has gone low, serious, and-

"Kaoru, what are you doing?" I struggle as he tries to hold me against the shelf. He has his hand on my hand, against the shelf, and his legs are in prime position to trip me. His other hand pins my shoulder against the wood, against the books. I feel a book slide out from the other side, falling onto the carpet with a loud slam.

"We're staying here until you tell me what's wrong," he says stubbornly. I just give him an annoyed look, trying to free my other hand, trying to get out of here, out of this stupid interrogation.

"I got nothing to say, Kaoru," I sigh, leaning against the shelf, pretending to surrender.

His grip doesn't loosen.

"Answer me this then," his hazel eyes are fixed at a point near my neck, as if he doesn't want to even look at me straight in the eye, "-why did you run?"

I blink, "Why are you asking me that?"

"Why are you not answering?" he growls lowly, moving his eyes to look at the books behind me.

I purse my lips, "Why are you doing this?"

"Why are you doing this?"

We never needed straight answers from our other half.

I quirk a brow, "The same reason you're doing this?"

He keeps silent, his eyes hidden by his light brown hair. He doesn't do anything to loosen me from the bookshelf; his hand only grips my shoulder tighter.

"Why… why do you even pretend?" he says softly, like if he said it louder, I could hear his voice crack and- "Why do you like pretending?"

My eyes widen slightly, as he takes a deep shuddering breath again, his voice barely a whisper.

"And why the hell do you like pretending to be me?" And with that, he pushes me away, my shoulder stinging from his grasp. I only stare, confused to as why Kaoru's being all emotional on me now-

You can't see, Hikaru?

My eyes moisten, as he turns away from me, a cold silence coming between us.

I pretend to be someone I'm not, because only Hikaru would not notice something's wrong with Kaoru.

"I- I- Damn."

I grit my teeth, closing my eyes, and he pauses, before turning to look at me curiously, "What was that, Hikaru?"

"Why… Why can't I be like you?" I curl my hands into fists, wondering why the hell I'm so stupid, so idiotic, so blind, "Kaoru's the one who notices when there's something wrong with his twin, not Hikaru. Kaoru's the one who's nice and helps anyone, not Hikaru. Kaoru's the one who isn't stupid, and isn't blind like Hikaru."

Kaoru is the perfect twin. Hikaru isn't.

"Hikaru?"

"No matter how hard I try, it doesn't work," I close my eyes, feeling a wet tear trickle down my face, "I… I hate being Hikaru."

Hikaru is the imperfect twin. Kaoru isn't.

"Hikaru," he places his hands softly onto my fists, and I avert my eyes from him, hoping that he doesn't ask me what's wrong. His slender fingers loosen my fists easily, as he whispers softly, "That's why you're pretending… right?"

Yes, that's why-

I don't answer him, as I feel his hands leaving mine to cup my cheeks.

"It's too hard to not pretend," I whisper, my breath harsh against my throat, "I can't do anything but pretend."

His hazel eyes meet mine awkwardly, "Hikaru," he says slowly, "-you don't need to pretend to be me to be nice, to be understanding, and to know me," he cocks his head to the side, his hazel eyes reading through mine, "…ne?"

I don't agree with him; I don't want to agree with him.

"Do you understand?" and it's so funny and so strange that Kaoru's voice is so understanding and so patient, while mine can't even come close to that.

We were never completely identical in the first place.

I pretend to be Kaoru, just to convince myself that nothing has changed, that there is nothing that Kaoru can do that I can't do.

I pretend to be Kaoru, just to convince myself how much everything has been changed, when I find out that I really can't completely be him.

"It's too confusing," I close my eyes, wondering how to say it, how to say all the insecurities and contradictories I have, "And I can't stop it."

He simply smiles, and wraps his arms comfortingly around me, as I continue to mumble, my hands pressing him to me, "I'm not stupid, y'know. I can hear what people say about me; and I don't like it when they…"

"When they underestimate a brotherly bond?" he finishes the sentence, a curious tone in his voice.

I nod quickly, "I don't want to ever forget you, Kaoru, even if we do go on separate ways," I tighten my grasp around him, and I… don't really want to let him go now.

I don't pretend to think that Kaoru's exactly like me, that he's the exact same temperature, the exact same height, exactly the same, because right now, we're entirely identical.

I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, appreciating how comfortable it feels when I don't have to pretend that Kaoru's still with me, don't have to feel the emptiness near me, don't have to think that Kaoru isn't thinking the same way I am.

I feel him pull back, just slightly, and I look up at him, his hazel eyes watching me closely.

"You know, Hikaru," he says, pacing out his words, his lips curling into a smile, "You… could've told me you were still playing pretend too."

I just stare at him for a while, before returning my own smile, hesitant, cautious, assured, "…Yeah."

I like playing pretend.

It's an easy thing to do.

I'd laugh, smile, have fun all the same, and no one would know whether it was genuine or not. I'd yell, taunt, and completely annoy people, and no one would know whether I meant it or not.

I like pretending that I'm no more than what people think I am, that I'm just as predictable as the next guy, that I'm a true idiot oblivious to everything, and yet, no one would be completely sure whether I am or not.

I like playing pretend, because everyone would assume that I'm being honest, being selfish, being happy, being jealous, being angry, being everything.

They don't know, won't know how wrong they are.

I like pretending that I don't have a crush on Haruhi, they'll think that I'm not interested; that I don't like others coming near her, they'll think that I'm overprotective; and that I want to yell at milord in frustration, and they'll think that I'm willing to support someone else all the way.

They don't know, they won't know.

Just like that brotherly love thing.

I know I'm just pretending it all, and he's just pretending it all, just for some fun, just for some games, just for some designations who are extremely thick and dense.

Some believe we really love each other and some of them think that it's just all just an act.

Those who think we really love each other are blind and those who think it's just an act are in denial.

But they don't know.

I like pretending I'm in love because pretending to be in love is the next best thing to actually loving.

And no one would know any better.

And no one would know if we were really in love, or if we were really acting.

Not even me.