It's Not Like I Can't

There was a lot of laundry that morning.

-Not that Kyo minded, however, because while he'd rather do anything than dig through strangers' unmentionables (really, did these people have any shame?!), he just thanked the heavens that he wasn't on bathroom duty. He dealt with enough shit at this stupid hotel, the last thing he needed was to clean it too.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy his job (his foreign coworkers taught him enough Spanish to ace his finals for the remaining two years of high school), he just wished the guests wouldn't try so hard to live up to their snobby, rich stereotype. Almost everyday he felt disrespected and looked down upon, almost as if just because he worked nine to eleven hours for money that they made in a blink of an eye, he was somehow less of a human.

His father, a wealthy American investor, had been the heir to his parent's vast fortune, his mother, a beautiful though easy daughter of a French-Japanese crack whore. Obviously, they'd never married when he was born, and his mother overdosed when he was six, with cocaine bought from the small amount of money his father had sent as child support. It always sounded sad when you put it like that. In reality, he couldn't remember either of them, and keeping his father's last name really helped him get a job at his hotel. Kazuma, his loving foster father, would say it was because of his impressive resume, and his "straight A" report card, but really, they both knew better.

"Excuse me!"

The orange haired boy snapped out of his daze, gripping the laundry cart tightly in his hands. A snooty, dark haired woman was standing about a foot away, red-nailed hands on her bony hips. She stared at him expectantly, motioning her head to the the side in impatience. Kyo sighed, taking one hand off the cart in favor of his sweat-dampened hair.

"-Do you speak English?"

She blurted rudely, before he could even speak. He narrowed his eyes in confusion, wondering why the hell she would assume he spoke anything but.

"..Yes? Uhm, may I help you, Ma'am?"

He replied unsurely, letting his arm fall to his side.

"Thank God," She took her hands from her hips, smoothing out her silky jacket, "Come on, hun."

She turned on her heel, short hair swishing behind her. He stood, abashed, rooted to the spot.

"Well, come on!"

His eyes widened, and he pushed the cart hurriedly after her, only stopping to ask a kindly laundry lady to drop it off in the basement for him. He then followed the strange, wealthy woman to her room, wondering what she could possibly want of him, but knowing better than to actually think it was worth his time. Finally, they arrived in the suits, stopping in front of room 4-352. She dug around shortly in her Coach purse, pulling out a key card.

"I told Mr. Sohma when he invested in this mediocre hotel chain, 'the first thing you need to do is replace those outdated televisions', but oh-no, they'd just have to do for another two or three months!"

Well, at least he knew why he was there, and the task at hand almost seemed worth the trek to her room. Although, he felt like shaking the woman by the shoulders, and informing her that he would kill for a television twice the age of the flat screen provided in her room.

"What happened to it?"

He finally asked, and she jumped, almost as if she'd forgotten he was there. She probably had.

"I turned it on earlier this morning, and sparks flew from the back wires. Now it won't do anything; cheap old thing."

Kyo held back the urge the scowl.

"Did you try calling maintenance?"

He asked slowly, bending down to check the busted wires. A black stain stood prominent against the plain white walls, and tiny scraps of rubber littered the floor. The woman made an offended noise, and with his back to her, Kyo could almost see her hand go to her heart.

"Of course I did!"

She screeched.

"but the girl who answered barely spoke enough English to even say hello!"

'you poor thing' He felt like answering, but refrained. The woman obviously knew his father, and he could already tell that a lot of hard-working people were going to lose their jobs. He sighed sadly, standing from his kneeling position.

The woman eyed him for a moment, then crossing her arms, spat out a soft 'so?'.

"It's busted."

He stated, and she huffed impatiently.

"So, I can either haul a new one up here, or you can call the front desk and have them switch your room."

She seemed slightly flattered by this, and quickly informed him that while it was kind of him to offer, she'd just have her room switched. (maybe she didn't realize that regardless, he'd be stuck dragging a heaving television screen up the stairs and cleaning off the wall.)

and that was the end of it.

Later, just as the sun was beginning to set through the smog of the busy city, Kyo found himself rubbing a sponge furiously against the blackened stain on the wall. A brand new television sat only a few feet away, the old one already being carted outside to the dumpster. He silently berated himself for writing "good with technology" on his resume, therefore dooming himself to being forced every time to fix a broken TV, the washing machine, the old oven..

It was ridicules.

Quiet footsteps sounded in the hallway, but he chose to ignore them. The stain was being rather stubborn, and he really wanted to get the television hooked up before his shift was over. The steps stopped, the door behind him opening slowly, and he was finally forced to stop and look back.

A boy in his middle/late teens stood in the doorway, staring through confused brown eyes at the orange haired boy. He wore tight leather pants, and studded black boots. His black and white striped jacket was zipped only halfway, revealing a plain black shirt, and the many chained necklaces that hung around his neck. Kyo couldn't help but give him a strange look, and they stared at each-other for a moment longer, before Kyo finally piped up.

"May I help you?" He asked slowly.

The boy shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Where's my mom?"

He paused.

"..and my stuff?"

Kyo couldn't help but laugh at how aloof he seemed; so much the opposite of his snooty, self-assured mother.

"The TV's broken, so she switched rooms. You can go down to the front desk, and I'm sure they can give you the room number."

The boy ran a hand through his hair, and turned to glance behind him, sighing quietly to himself.

"Nah, I think I'll just chill here for awhile, you know, to freak her out a little?"

Kyo's eyes widened, watching nervously as the strange boy took a seat on the bed, kicking off his heavy boots. He smiled happily, unzipping his jacket and pulling it off, looking completely at ease in front of a total stranger.

"You know how mother's are, right Mr..?"

The orange haired teen turned back toward the stained wall, realizing that he only had an hour or so left before his shift ended and the boss came up to inspect his work. He scrubbed quickly, dirty water running down the wall in trails.

"It's Kyo. and no, I don't know." He drew out, and it sounded colder that it was supposed to.

The other teen was silent, the only sign that he was still there being the rustling of the sheets.

"Well, I'm Hatsuharu, but you can call me Haru." He finally spoke, "And would it be rude to ask why?"

Kyo stopped, feeling the boy's eyes on his back, face flushing red. It would be rude, he felt like saying. It wasn't any of his business anyway. What was he supposed to say, 'Oh, I'm a bastard, and she overdosed because she didn't want me'? This pampered child would never understand.

"She's dead."

He found himself saying, and wondered why his mouth would betray him like that. He expected the teen to be silenced, and after rubbing the last of the mess from the wall, he placed the sponge back in the bucket.

"I'm sorry.. My dad left when I was little, but I know it's not the same."

The quiet words seemed strange and surreal through the noise of the outside, and Kyo almost thought he imagined them. It seemed impossible that anyone staying in this fancy, overpriced hotel would be so honest.

He placed the bucket by the window, making sure to keep his back turned to the wealthy teen.

"I'm sorry too." He muttered, turning slightly to watch the other from the corner of his eye. "It's never easy to lose a parent."

There was a rustling from the sheets, and he could sense the other teen's sad smile. The streetlights blinked on outside the window, the sound of angry honking filling the air. Small rays of light were reflected off of Haru's studded boots, and they dotted the dark corners of the room.

The alarm on Kyo's watch beeped quietly, compared to the blaring noise outside.

His shift was over.

tbc.

--

This won't be very long, so don't worry. I've been messing around with this story for a month or two, debating whether or not I wanted to post it, and in it's wake I've spawned a number of dark, depressing little drabbles and oneshots.

It's planned to be pretty light hearted though. Very much like 'In the Land of Women' or the original Fruits Basket.