Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction ❯ Sleeping In ❯ Sleeping In - Chapter Two - Specific Instructions ( Chapter 2 )

Sleeping In

by Palatyne

 

 

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, Lala, English editions to Viz Media and the anime to Bones, et.al.

 

Author's Note: The ratings of the first three or four chapters of this story are / will be lower than a T. However, succeeding chapters might be rated higher. Please be advised.

 

Acknowledgements: Thank you so much to all those who read the first chapter, especially those who gave very encouraging reviews.

 

************************************************************** ****************

 

Chapter Two - Specific Instructions

 

 

For a long time, the vast and cave-like office was silent, giving not the slightest hint of its lone occupant sitting imperially in an elegant chair behind an equally elegant table.

 

Suddenly, there was a soft knocking sound followed shortly by the soft click and screech of an opening door and the shuffle of footsteps.

 

The newcomer approached and bowed low to the man behind the table, who seemed to have scarcely noticed his arrival.

 

“Mr. Chairman, we have just received word from our contact at the Maple Hotel.” he announced before a protracted silence.

 

“And?”

 

“All is going well.”

 

“Good. Be sure to send that man a token of our gratitude.”

 

“Hai.” His reply signaled his departure but there was an almost imperceptible hesitation in his stance.

 

The older man, more perceptive and less keen to observe trivial politesse, noticed the tension and immediately addressed it.

 

“Was there anything else?”

 

The attendant hesitated for a moment, then cautiously resumed in a somber tone. “Mr. Chairman, regarding the bocchama's current residence…”

 

“I sense your anxiety, but I am not overly concerned. He is not one to be persuaded forcefully. He has proven to me that he is one who makes his own decisions.”

 

The older man continued after a pause. “I did not think him capable of such, but we both know of the feat he managed during the Festival…”

 

“Yes, Mr. Chairman…But what if he decides not to-” but the younger man was sharply interrupted.

 

“He will return. In his own terms and not without a few demands.”

 

“I see, Mr. Chairman. He has contacted you -”

 

“No. But I know this.”

 

“But, Mr. Chairman, we can't be certain that -”

 

“I know this because although he is not aware of it, we are very, very much alike.”

 

Yoshio cast his most trusted attendant a dismissive nod. It was the end of their discussion. Swiftly and silently the man retreated, leaving the head of the Ootori Zaibatsu alone in the room once more.

 

************************************************************** ****************

 

Haruhi looked at the door's number plate and checked it with the numbers on the key card. She had found the right room but her success in finding it made her even more hesitant to continue. She began to wonder once more why she didn't just stay home.

 

Taking a deep breath, she swiped the key card into its slot. There was a soft beep and a green light flashed, indicating granted access.

 

Turning the now accessible knob, she opened the door slightly. She peered into the room and saw what looked like a large living room. Unlike the classic opulence of the hallways, the room was more modern, the walls were almost bare and plain but still sleek, full of sharp angles.

 

Feeling a bit foolish to be peering into the room like a burglar, she steeled herself and walked across the threshold, closing the door firmly behind her.

 

She walked further inside and saw to her amazement a breathtaking sight. The entire wall area opposite the entrance door was made completely of transparent glass panels that stretched across the length of what looked like the living room. It was a giant window overlooking the world outside.

 

“Sugoi…”she couldn't help but say as she moved closer, marveling at the view of the city's skyline, she could see the tops of buildings, the roads below and even almost as far as the horizon.

 

She moved even closer to the glass wall, touching her hand to its smoothness.

 

This must be what he wants. He was born and trained to be a leader of men, to be at the top of his game, to know, see and plan everything.

 

She admired Kyouya for his strength of will and foresight, his determination to conquer everything and even the very world and the very family that he was born into. Yet he dismissed himself as nothing but an egoist, who sought only benefits for himself.

 

However, she soon realized that despite all that he did and said to counter it, he was a genuinely kind person. This was what fascinated her most about him - he could be ruthless and kind, egoistic and altruistic, opportunistic and generous, cold and impassioned.

 

He could be all the horrible things he says he is, but when I look into his eyes…

 

She knew, from past experience, that her present train of thought led her to things that were uncertain and unknown to her, things she could not understand.

 

Abruptly she moved away from the glass wall and focused her mind once more to the task at hand. She looked around the room and saw that it was just one continuous rectangular area divided into several rooms.

 

At one end of the room there was an entryway which led to a dining area where further in she glimpsed a small kitchen. She noticed that for a hotel, it was sparsely furnished and thought that it must have been prepared according to Kyouya's specifications.

 

Turning to the other side of the room she saw what could be the bedroom. To her surprise she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. The sight of the partially opened door made her acutely aware of just how private it was.

 

She was momentarily beset by indecision. She realized that to turn back would be a waste of all her time and effort. But she was also aware that it was stretching the limits of propriety to barge into Kyouya's room, uninvited and alone - and it was the latter that most worried her.

 

Despite that, there was a growing interest that she could not shake off, a niggling curiosity that urged her not to leave.

 

Cautiously she walked toward the open bedroom door. She pushed it firmly and without any hesitation let herself in.

 

But the sight that greeted her soon made her regret her decision.

 

Sprawled on the large bed and tangled in a sea of white covers was Kyouya, with only a portion of the sheet covering below his waist.

 

Warmth immediately suffused her face.

 

It was certainly not the first time she saw any of the Host Club half-naked. Kyouya himself had told her that occasionally showing some skin was “well-received.”

 

Yet there was something in the way he lay there, completely relaxed and at ease, in the privacy of his bedroom. He seemed so ruffled and unkempt, so different from his immaculate appearance on campus. Even during their outings and even in the most rugged of clothing he always looked pristine.

 

He was always calm and composed, but unlike Mori's taciturnity, Kyouya's calmness held an air of intensity. He looked calm on the outside, but she could always tell when his mind was racing. He was always thinking, always planning.

 

But right now, he looks so peaceful.

 

His head was facing the other side of the room, away from her, toward the half-closed blinds which barely filtered the sunlight streaming into the room.

 

It took a while before Haruhi realized, to her mortification, that for several moments she had done nothing but stare at Kyouya's sleeping form.

 

Mentally berating herself, she refocused her mind and in an almost hushed voice called out,

 

“Kyouya-sempai?”

 

He did not stir, gave no indication at all that he heard her.

 

Several times she called out his name, each try louder than the previous, but he remained sprawled on the bed, still giving no sign that he had heard her.

 

“Mou…”she sighed, realizing that it was a futile task.

 

She decided to move closer to the bed. She could see wisps of his dark hair falling over his face, shielding it from her view.

 

Then she noticed that he was lying perfectly still.

 

Unnaturally still.

 

Maybe there is something wrong with him!

 

Suddenly, panic seized her, the fear of illness rooted in her by the death of her mother kicking in. She hurried towards the side of the bed nearest him and once more called out his name.

 

“Kyouya-sempai!”

 

She bent down, trying to see if he was breathing properly but his position made it difficult for her to tell.

 

Kneeling by the bed, she reached her arms to his shoulders to shake him. Once more she called out his name.

 

“Kyouya-sempai!”

 

There was still no response. He remained perfectly still, and for a moment she thought him to be lying lifeless on the bed.

 

She grabbed his wrist and searched for a pulse. Looking at her watch, she prepared to count, closing her eyes for concentration.

 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

 

She continued counting, eyes still closed. By the ninetieth count she realized that there seemed to be nothing wrong with his pulse. She decided to check her watch to see how many seconds had elapsed.

 

It was then that her gaze met a pair of dark eyes fixed intently at her.

 

“So, what's the diagnosis?”

 

“K-Kyouya-sempai!”

 

 

 

 

Author's Endnote: This chapter contains, in my opinion, a rather distracting (but still irresistible to write) allusion to another popular series.