So! I just sortof got the idea to write something incredibly depressing, at least in my tastes, since I was lost in creativity for another story. So I hope you enjoy it, or maybe it'll sadden you by being so brilliant? (:
I do not own Ouran.

The two leaped apart. Staring at the small mob of adults clustered outside the door, they knew that they had been caught. Blushing, Kaoru looked at the floor ashamedly, and began to cry softly. Hikaru simply took ahold of his younger self and cradled him, gently rocking him back and forth.

And so had been their younger years, kisses stolen by children when no one watched. Believed by the boys to be love, explained by the boys to be an expression of family care, their world was full of contrasting meanings. Shall it mean everything or nothing at all?

As the years passed on, the two only grew closer. They relied on each other, depended on each other. One without the other was a sight to behold. Joined at the hip, they seemed to blend into one another. It was difficult to tell where Hikaru ended and Kaoru began.

It was so, until their final years of High School. Together they had done almost everything, every birthday, holiday, and first. Togetherness had never posed as a problem, until the eldest brother began to fall madly in love. Perhaps in the beginning it was sappy, and lovesick, but he was indeed smitten by this woman.

Maybe it was the woman who created the problem. Should it have been another, would it have been any better? Fearing for his relationship with his brother, Kaoru took drastic measures.

A sharp pain ripped its way through Kaoru, yet he felt next to nothing. This was the beginning… Only the beginning. Three times more he ripped through the skin on his wrist, drawing beads of blood. His eyes were fixated on the crimson color, how it flowed so easy down to his elbow. Was this how things were meant to be? Was all of this really necessary? Simply because of a girl, and a brother? Perhaps if Kaoru had asked himself these questions, there would not be so many jagged scars on his arms, which had begun to crisscross down the rest of his body. Perhaps he would have seen how foolish he was.

Certainly, he would look back and notice other alternatives, would he not?

Yet years had passed since their fourth year, years had passed since his brother's wedding. Hikaru had married the poor girl with short hair, caused by a small wad of chewing gum. Kaoru had married no one. Not yet, possibly not ever, seeing how life seemed not to present him with a lasting love. He had tried, yes, to move on and to find love with a woman. He never found love, though, for these women could never fill the void left by all of those childhood kisses, meaningless as they were.

I am just not meant for love. I am simply the waste of space, the copy of my brother. No one wants a copy; the original is always more desired. I know where I stand. I am a forgotten toy to everyone, outgrown as the child ages. I am as forgotten as last year's homework, or a meeting that had been moved to an earlier time. Yes, I have been forgotten.

Soon the tears mingled with the blood, which began to pool on the bathroom floor. Twice more the skin was broken, deeper this time, earning a hiss of pain from Kaoru. Yet, pain was not the correct word to describe the emotion felt when the surface of his body was marred.

Comfort, was it? Or, control, perhaps?

No longer was the younger twin able to suppress his sadness. His enmity and disgust with the world and himself were completely expressed in this moment, the boy becoming extremely vulnerable. Time after time again he slashed his flesh, begging for an escape from this world. Begging for peace. Peace for himself, for his family, and for his brother. Hikaru no longer wanted a needy shadow following him, keeping him from living life how it should be lived. The family business was presented to Hikaru, as he was the eldest. Their high school friends now had honest, well-paying jobs and joyous lives.

Kaoru was a burden, dragging everyone down with him.

He was no longer needed.

Desperately he opened old wounds, needing no time to give last words, for he already had written letters to all of his loved ones.

Without maids or servants in his home, not one soul was able to hear the cries and grunts of pain coming from the simple, second story bath. The scent of blood, and the metallic taste was enough to send the boy lurching for the toilet. Retching, he fell, his bones weakened from months of malnourishment.

Lying, he stared up at the ceiling light. Slowly it began to fade, and he was no longer a copy.

Case Report:

Incident: The decedent is a young male with no reported history of fatal or severe illnesses.

The decedent was last known to be alive last Thursday, when his neighbor witnessed him returning to his home. Decedent briefly spoke with his neighbor, and then entered his house. After a week of no activity within the home, neighbors became worried. Receiving no answer from the front door, neighbors tried entering through the side door. Decedent was found dead on the scene, in the second story bathroom. Covered in dried blood and vomit, the decedent was assumed to have died at about 3:30 a.m., August 2nd.

This investigator viewed the decedent at his home, 4209 West Kowareta Street. Close examination revealed no indication of foul play. Cause of death was presumably suicide. Clothing (navy blue jacket, light denim jeans) and watch released to Hikaru Hitachiin, decedent's brother. No additional information known by this investigator at this time.

Tears sliding down his cheeks, Hikaru shuffled into the home that was once his younger brother's. It seemed everything was how he had left it, save the grinning presence of his other half was missing. Everything was unimportant. Everything was meaningless, without his mirror image. The small boy he had grown up with was gone. Pain wreaked its way through Hikaru's heart, tearing the lonely boy apart from the inside out. His innermost turmoil began to stir, creating chaos in his soul.

He ripped the room apart, searching for something, anything that would serve as a small bit of remembrance. Perhaps something could bring him back. Maybe a broken heart, maybe tears, maybe the empty feeling Hikaru was now drowning in would bring him back, and make him feel sorry for all that he had put him through at this point.

Underneath the mattress laid the most precisely folded sheets of paper. Shaking hands removed them from their resting place, and watery eyes dared read the words written upon them. Addressed in Kaoru's beautifully scrawled handwriting, were letters to their family, the old Host Club members, and one to Hikaru himself. His seemed the thickest and most rewritten, worn and tired from many openings and erasures. Ripped in some places, holes in others, he unsteadily opened the one addressed to him. He lowered himself cautiously to the nearby chair, and began to read.

Hikaru,

If you are reading this, I assume that I have moved on past this material world. Please, don't be sad for me, my loss is nothing. The loss of me is nothing compared to what the loss of you would have ever been, please keep that in mind. In my will you will find that everything has gone to you, and what to do with it is your decision. I leave that in your hands. All I ask of my funeral is that you be present. Anything else, that is under your hand.

Take good care of yourself, brother, for you are all that matters. And if you should fall ill because of me, I could never forgive myself. Please understand me when I write this; I remember the childhood kisses, and none of those were meaningless. For I have loved you more than I should, more than a brother. Should you hate me for feeling such emotions, it matters not anymore. I am already gone. Move along with your life. Raise a family with your wife, have children and live in bliss. I will be a forgotten memory, but that is alright, because I know that I had been an important part of your life at some point.

Thank you, for giving me a chance to know you, to be your brother, and to love you.

Goodbye,

Kaoru.

The tattered paper was nearly soaked when Hikaru had finished reading. His tears stained the paper, his mind raced with questions. He rose from the armchair and slowly walked towards the bathroom, preparing himself to see the site of his twin's death.

Yet no amount of mental preparation could have possibly prepared him for the sight that he walked in on. Blood stained tile, cabinets, and walls brought back one distinct memory.

Kaoru had fallen and scraped his knee, when the two were nearing the age of seven. He had made Hikaru promise never to leave him, never to leave his side when he was hurting. Being a child, he agreed.

This promise… now ceased to exist. Not only because Kaoru was dead, but because Hikaru had not been there to stop the suffering. He had not been there to stop the pain. He had abandoned his own brother.

Hikaru sank to the red, spattered floor, sobbing. He laid there for what seemed to be forever, staring at the ceiling light, wondering if that was the light that Kaoru had seen last, if Kaoru had seen the light when he passed. Memories began flooding back, slowly at first, then almost instantaneously. Switching from one scene to the next, he collapsed, and remained huddled on the floor, begging anyone who would hear him to bring his brother back.

Hey, it's Sora here again c: So, I hope it wasn't too terrible, I know it could've been better but it could've been worse too! Please tell me how you think I did with it, don't be afraid to write up a review (:
-Sora