Stolen Time

The lights were dull in the manor. A storm rattled at the windows. The curtains billowed softly in the halls. At his desk, his glasses shining from the light of his laptop, Kyōya was barely aware of the disturbance. The tap, tap, tap of the keyboard was the soundtrack of his life. Yet, faintly, in the back of his mind, he was aware that there was a terrified young woman somewhere in his home who was quite possibly hiding in a closet.

He paused to click send and flex his fingers. He had been at work for a good few hours. The amount of e-mails – both for business and apologising for the blond's idiocy – was stacked up higher than he cared to think about.

He was rather unhappy. His eyes were growing weary. His fingers were stiff from over-exertion. A coil was winding tighter and tighter in his mind as he felt the effects of tiredness more and more keenly. He clenched his jaw and promptly began on yet another e-mail.

It did little to ease his temper when he skimmed through the first three paragraphs and realised that he would have to make a call as well. His fists tightened until his hands were introduced to a world of pain and the skin of his knuckles felt (and looked) about to rupture in a most terrible way. He scowled deeply.

That was when the phone exploded in a chorus of ringing. The lights went up suddenly to full strength. He threw his arms up to shield his burning eyes and the world went pitch black. His breathing was loud in the silence that had descended. He lowered his arms at once. He was Kyōya, heir to the wealthy and prominent Ōtori family. He was not afraid of a lack of light.

That was when the thunder roared.

Eyes wide, startled, he came to a sudden realisation that he was still awake and that this was not a horrific dream. It was a horrific reality. His work, his unsaved files, documents send to his laptop, notes on who to call… All were in grave danger of being erased. All had been up when the power outage struck.

He bared his teeth for a moment. Trust him to resort to the power of the charger! He wished, yet again, that he had simply bought another to use while this was one being repaired. Oh, how his wrath swelled in that shadowed room.

A flicker of light rose in the distance. He glared at it. It widened. The door, he realised. He steepled his fingers and sat back, hunching forward regardless of the etiquette that his father had drilled into him.

"Yes," he spoke lowly.

"Kyōya…"

She said it slowly, as if afraid to evoke his wrath. That only made it more prominent. He swallowed what he could of it and straightened. His hands rested, flat palmed, on the desk.

"Are you scared, Haruhi?" it was only when the words were out that he realised how malicious he sounded. "Are you all right?"

She closed the door quietly. "I'm… all right… Are you still busy?"

Of course not, he thought bitterly, but bit back the remark. "I'm not. Do you want something?"

She stiffened. Her hands clasped tightly. She shook her head slowly.

He sighed, beckoning her over as he rose up. "Come here. I'm finished tonight. Let's go to bed."

Author's Note: I honestly thought this sounded good… in my head. Ah, but I started working on it. I thought I'd post it anyway. It had a point and purpose when I started… I think…