Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction ❯ Sleeping In ❯ Sleeping In - Chapter Six - Musings on a Kiss ( Chapter 6 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Sleeping In

by Palatyne

Chapter Six

Musings on a Kiss

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: I sincerely apologize for the very, very long delay. My fanfiction writing had to be put on hold because of other responsibilities.

I realized only recently that I had posted the chapters of this story here without “author's notes.” So the readers here had no idea of the story's progress and that I had actually been planning to end this story after two more chapters.

But it's irrelevant now. I have decided to add four to five more chapters to (hopefully) make the ending more satisfying.

Thanks very much to all those who read and reviewed!

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Chapter Six

Musings on a Kiss

Haruhi woke up only to feel as if she had not slept at all. Ironic, for it was the longest sleep she ever had in years. She knew she had slept in, the harsh glare of noon filtering through the light curtain fabric shielding her room.

Reluctantly she struggled to rise from the bed. Her arms and legs felt like lead, her eyes could barely stay open.

She felt as if she were carrying a great weight about her, making her slow to rise, slow to move. But there was no weight greater, than that which she felt in her heart. As she forced her body to wakefulness, the memory of the previous day which she had escaped in her sleep, came crashing back into her consciousness.

An entire night spent thinking and reliving every moment of the fateful encounter only served to make her feel worse.

She could not remember the last time she felt threatened enough to flee. She had always faced every challenge head-on and with little hesitation. But nothing in the sixteen years of her life could have prepared her for what had happened.

She had fled. Even now she felt a stab of humiliation. She could remember very little of her panicked flight out of the building. She headed straight for the nearest train station and decided to go to the one place she could calm down and think.

As soon as she got home she gave a curt call to Tamaki-sempai, who along with the rest of the Host Club had waited in a nearby restaurant, telling him that Kyouya simply refused to go. He had begun to protest but firmly and coldly she told him that she was not going to change her mind, and then promptly hung up.

She regretted her less than truthful words and her rudeness. Yet dismissing him firmly was the only way she could stop him from asking her any more question - not when she had no answers to give to the questions which plagued her.

She had racked her mind, delved into thoughts which she had not entertained before, probed feelings which before the incident seemed insignificant, impossible or even, unacceptable.

Why did it happen?

The answers which came to her were not the answers she wanted.

Summoning every ounce of her willpower she dragged herself from bed. Mechanically she went through all her morning rituals, her mind reluctant to face the long day ahead. Yet she trudged on, refusing to waste any more of her time.

Washed and ready she emerged from the bathroom and was greeted by her father's booming voice ringing cheerily from the dining area.

“Haruhi-chan, Ohayou!!”

She walked towards him and noticed that he was already dressed for work and food was already laid out on the table.

“Ohayou, Otousan…”

“Eh? What happened, did you stay up all night?” Ranka questioned. He looked slightly taken aback and Haruhi could only assume that it was because of her appearance.

“I…I was studying.”

“Hmmm…” Ranka intoned in his unique way, a subtly questioning tone belied by the soothing baritone hum. “But you always wake up early, no matter how late you stay up…anyway, I made lunch.”

“Arigatou, Otousan.”

“Are you sure you're all right?” Ranka prodded.

“Hai. I overslept a little but I will be all right.”

“Hmmmmm…” Ranka looked at her questioningly but did not say anything more.

Haruhi remained silent. Her father was perhaps one of the few people in the world who could truly see through her. Yet he was also the one person she wanted to keep her troubles from. Being silent was better than speaking, for her father could easily pick up clues from her speech.

For a few moments the two remained silent as Haruhi sat down and prepared herself for her meal.

“Itadakimasu!” She called out in the most cheerful voice she could muster.

Once more the table fell silent, with only the occasional clink of chopsticks hitting porcelain breaking the stillness. Ranka was looking at a sheaf of papers, seemingly preoccupied.

“By the way, one of your Host Club friends called this morning. Actually, he called several times.”

“Eh?” She replied calmly, trying to conceal her curiosity.

Could it be…?

“I'm afraid I told him off after the tenth call.” Ranka intoned, an exaggerated frown etched on his face.

“Who was it?”

“Ara…I forgot to ask.”

From the way her father dismissed the caller, his exaggerated disinterest and his obvious attempt at hiding the caller's identity, Haruhi was almost certain who it had been. Only one Host Club member could arouse such antagonistic feelings in Ranka - Tamaki-sempai.

It was as expected. Her sudden refusal to join them and her curt call to him had probably alarmed him. It was simply his misfortune that his calls were answered by her father.

“Hmmmm…I hope it wasn't something important…” Ranka intoned remorsefully, but his expression showed the opposite.

Haruhi inwardly sighed. She could almost see Tamaki-sempai roosting in another lonely corner, his mood falling under the double weight of her and her father's dismissal.

“No. I don't think so.” She assured her father. He knew all about the eccentricities and the overboard antics of the Host Club and in particular, Tamaki-sempai. Dismissing the call as another one of Tamaki-sempai's many lapses into the absurd, was the easiest way to skirt from the subject. She did not want to arouse any more of her father's curiosity.

Yet if it were someone else, her father would have, at the very least, tried to wake her.

If it were Kyouya…

Quite suddenly her heart raced at the thought that perhaps Kyouya had tried to call her.

“Did anyone else call, Otousan?” she asked as casually as she could.

“I don't think so. But since that one caller kept calling every couple of minutes, I doubt if anyone else came through.” Ranka said with a show of great annoyance, the pointed reference to the caller made Haruhi all the more certain that it was indeed Tamaki-sempai.

Kyouya had not tried to call her, after all. She realized it was much better that he did not. She would not have known what to say to him or if she could even manage to utter a word.

Still she felt a small tinge of disappointment.

He did not call…he did not do anything at all…

He had not tried to chase her when she fled his room. For a moment, as she waited inside the descending elevator, panic struck her as she remembered how Kyouya had effortlessly made the hotel ban the other host club members from the building. He could just as easily prevent her from getting out. But as she reached the ground floor it was obvious that her flight had gone unnoticed.

Haruhi berated herself for letting her thoughts stray once more into that fateful encounter. She resolved to end her musings and resume eating, but soon realized that her father was looking at her intently.

She had let her mind wander and her guard down.

“Otousan, nani?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Eh?” Haruhi feigned ignorance, trying to deflect her father's question.

“Why do you ask if there was someone else who called?”

“Nothing.” She intoned dryly, her face impassive, keeping her hands busy with the motions of eating.

“Hmmmmmm...You know, your mother also said “nothing” in that same tone.” Ranka spoke without looking at her directly, but there was a knowing smile on his face. “And it was never just nothing.”

Haruhi kept silent, to say anything then would betray her.

Exasperated by his daughter's silence, Ranka heaved an exaggerated sigh and looked pointedly at Haruhi's rice bowl.

“Well, at least you're still eating…so it can't be that bad.”

Haruhi inwardly sighed in relief. She had always tried her very best not to worry her father, so she had kept her problems to herself and tried to solve them on her own. She never knew that such a dead giveaway existed. Since then, she had resolved to eat breakfast regardless of her state of mind.

And it was now that her resolve was sorely tested. Every mouthful passed her lips without her really tasting.

Soon Ranka rose from the table and prepared to leave. He rambled on about a special show that night at the club and that all the performers were asked to come in earlier to rehearse. He was obviously excited and expressed it with excessive whining and avowals of annoyance.

“Apparently some diplomat from abroad is coming to see some genuine Japanese entertainment, okama-style! We're supposed to perform a traditional dance and the fan thing takes forever to learn!”

Haruhi smiled lovingly at her father. Performing as a woman, despite his many complaints, was probably the one thing her father truly enjoyed.

“I know you can do it, Otousan.”

“Arigatou, Haruhi-chan! And please enjoy the weekend and by that I don't mean spending the entire day studying…”

“I will try, Otousan. Good luck tonight!”

“Ja ne!”

“Ja.” Haruhi replied quietly as the apartment's door was shut and her father's hurried footsteps clattered away.

She set her rice bowl on the table, the motions of eating no longer necessary. For a while she simply sat, trying to think of what to do for the rest of the day. Studying would certainly take her mind off things - but the thought of doing school work only reminded her that in less than a day she would be at Ouran once more, with the Host Club.

She would not be able to look at him and not remember.

Kyouya…

She had wondered exactly what Kyouya was after. She had no idea what his intentions were, if he had any. He himself had admitted, there was no merit in it for him. She had considered all of his possible motives, even the most unpleasant possibilities.

Her rational mind told her that it could be that he was only after what men were said to be always after. Though she could not claim to be as worldly as Kyouya seemed to be, she knew what he meant by his words.

“No merit, yes. But much, much pleasure.”

She was aware of the possibility that she might be nothing more than a novelty for him. She could be nothing more than a diversion for him, a little break from the more important things in his life.

Yet as she thought of this, she remembered the gentleness of his hands as he held her close to him. She remembered the way his eyes gazed upon her

In the all too brief moments that he had held her in his arms, she had never once felt afraid. She was never afraid of him, or of what he would do.

I trusted him.

She trusted him, yielded and surrendered to him.

And even as she debated with herself about possibilities and intentions, the memory of his words rang clear in her mind.

“I kissed you because you wanted it…I did what we both wanted.”

Through the maze of emotions and thoughts which she had tried to escape - she realized that he had been right.

I did want it.

As to why she did, she had no answers.

Yet she knew that even before she stepped into his apartment, and perhaps as soon as the Host Club asked her to go to him, she had feared that something would happen.

She remembered the frantic beating of her heart as she stepped into his bedroom, the feeling of anxiousness that attended her until the moment he took her into his arms - only then did her fear leave her.

She knew now what she had feared so much.

I was afraid of myself…

She should have known better, she should have fled as soon as she noticed how her heart raced, how her breath caught. She should have fled before he opened his eyes, and gazed back at her - stealing all sense and reason from her.

She should have fled the moment he said her name.

Even now she feared that perhaps, she would never be able to resist him.

Kyouya.

It was the thought which had kept her awake all night. It was a thought which had rent all of her beliefs apart - as if all that she had ever thought about herself and about him had been erased and rewritten by their one encounter.

Never before had she thought that perhaps, he could be more.

Or that she could ever feel more.

She had come to Ouran to fulfill her dreams - to become a lawyer as her mother had been. She had never before thought of anything else that would come up. She had resolved not to let anything distract her, to not let anything drive her away from her goal.

What do I do now?

Haruhi heaved an audible sigh. She rose from the table and turned to her mother's shrine. Gently, she opened the doors to reveal the humble memento of a woman whose life and memory still lived strongly within her.

For a moment, like countless times before, she wondered how her life would have been had her mother lived. She wondered if she would have wanted her to become a lawyer or if she would even have approved of her attending Ouran.

As she looked at her mother's smiling face, she began to wonder what her mother would tell her to do, what her advice would be.

“Okasan, what should I do?” She asked loudly.

Yet there was only silence and her mother's silently smiling face. She knew this was one problem that no one else could solve.

She rose to the floor, determined that whatever decision she would make, she would stand firm.

Silently, she offered one last prayer to her mother's shrine, before gently and firmly closing it.

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Kyouya stood behind the glass wall of the living room and watched the setting sun paint the sky a dozen shades of red.

He looked at his hand and remembered the warmth of the slender wrist he had held - the wrist that he trapped with his grip.

The plea that she uttered hours ago still echoed in his mind.

“Onegai, Kyouya-sempai…”

Shame and disgust coursed through him.

He had prided himself in his self-control, in his ability to look past his own desires, in the primacy of his reason over his emotions. Yet at that one instant he had let his desire rage unchecked.

Kyouya clenched his fist in silent anger. His eyes darted to a nearby coffee table. Gleaming with reflected light was the key card he had found hours earlier. As soon as he had seen it, he realized exactly how Haruhi was able to get into the room.

He fought the impulse to take the card and crush it with his hands. The only way she could have gotten it was if the head of hotel security himself gave it to her. He knew without a doubt what would prompt the man to commit such a breach of security - either a bribe or a threat.

His father's scheming had once more prevailed.

“Kyouya-san, are you sure you are okay?” The concerned voice of his sister echoed from the doorway of the kitchen, breaking his reverie.

“Hai, Fuyumi-nesan. I'm all right.” His voice was mild, giving his sister no hint of the turmoil within him.

“Are you sure? You've been standing there for over half an hour now…”

“I was waiting for the sunset.” He replied lamely.

“Oh, how romantic!!” Fuyumi tittered.

“How's the kitchen?” He asked with feigned interest, knowing that after several hours under his sister's ministrations, the kitchen was probably no longer functional.

“Oh, I just finished! I was just about to ask if you wanted some tea.”

“Tea would be good. Arigatou, Fuyumi-nesan.”

Kyouya watched as his sister bustled once more into the kitchen. Doing housework was something of a sport for Fuyumi, and a sure way of diverting her would be to let her practice.

He moved away from the window and moved to sit on a couch. His sister seemed to have noticed that all was not well and he did not want to cause her to be suspicious.

Fuyumi arrived an hour after Haruhi had left, and was phoned in by security like any ordinary guest. He took the opportunity to question the security person on the other line about the key card, but the man denied that such a thing happened. According to him, no person by the name of Fujioka was issued a card.

His father knew how to hide his tracks. Yet the entire thing screamed of his involvement - to lure Haruhi into his room, to deliberately place them in a compromising situation, it was one of the oldest tricks in the book - too old to be failsafe.

Perhaps his father simply wanted to anger him.

Or perhaps, he thought Haruhi was a fool.

Haruhi was no fool. She had proven to be one of the most perceptive and intelligent persons he knew. Yet she was still extremely naïve and even at times too sure of her trust in a person.

He felt that wholehearted trust in their kiss - she had surrendered herself to him, fully and completely.

Yet the way she begged him to release her tore at him. He had done the one thing that he had sworn never to do. He had used his strength as a man against her. He manipulated her into kissing him and he controlled her, prevented her escape.

I did exactly what my father wanted me to do.

He had played into his father's hands, lured into the game and he hated himself for it.

“Tea's here!” His sister's voice broke into his thoughts. Fuyumi was coming towards the living area with a tea tray laden with a huge kettle, mismatched tea cups and several plates of cakes. The tray seemed to be swaying precariously in his sister's hands and he reached forward to help her.

“Daijoubu Kyouya-san, I can do this. Sit down” Fuyumi brushed him off and proceeded miraculously to set the tray safely on the table.

“Fuyumi-nesan, your skills are improving.” He couldn't resist saying as he accepted the cup of tea his sister offered.

“Hontou? I've been practicing at home. Shido doesn't understand why I do it but he plays along anyway.”

“Shido should be grateful to be served tea by you.”

“You're teasing me!”

“No. For a lady like you to serve tea to an idiot like Shido is nothing less than saintly.”

“Kyouya-san!” His sister looked at him warningly but her expression soon turned thoughtful.

“Shido is not an idiot. He's smart, responsible and kind, not to mention one of the best CEOs in the country. I'm grateful to marry such a man.”

“You never knew him before Otousan arranged the engagement.” Kyouya reminded her.

“Of course. That's how things are done. I know Otousan did his best to find a good husband for me.”

“I'm sure he did.” Kyouya said disdainfully, his anger at his father seeping out.

Yet as soon as he did, he regretted it. He had never before been so frank with his sister and he did not want to hurt her without cause.

“Gomen, Fuyumi-nesan. I didn't mean to offend you.” He said as he set down his cup, his expression weary. His anger at himself and at his father was consuming him, threatening to unleash itself in all its cold fury.

“Kyouya-san, you are not okay.” His sister said quietly, her eyes fixed concernedly on Kyouya.

Kyouya heaved a silent sigh.

Fuyumi set down her cup, looking quite uncertain.

“Kyouya-san, I know I'm not the best person to give advice…I know I always give you more trouble than help…”

“Onesan…” Kyouya was startled by the sudden turn in their conversation.

“I don't know what made you leave the mansion, what disagreement you had with Otousan. I won't force you to tell me, so don't worry - ”

“Fuyumi-nesan, you don't have to -”

“However,” his sister cut in firmly. “I want you to know that I'm here to support you, to help you in whatever way I can. Not just because I'm your sister.”

Fuyumi paused for a moment, her eyes slowly looked away and Kyouya knew that she was fighting tears. He remained silent, knowing that to speak of it would wound her pride.

“I will support you because I know how it feels to be deprived of a chance to decide for myself.”

Kyouya looked at his sister and saw clearly, the sadness which he had long ago suspected.

“Oh, but I'm all right now.” His sister said with a wry smile. “I wasn't before. I blamed Otousan for everything. But the reality was that I was also partly to blame. I had let him decide everything, plan everything for me.”

Fuyumi paused once more, then quite suddenly her solemn expression changed to that of blazing determination.

“So I will support you all the way! I'm proud of you, Kyouya-san! I know you've always felt resentful because you're the youngest son, but you're talented and smart and you will go a long way. Even without Otousan's help!”

Kyouya was startled by his sister's declaration. Yet he could not help but be moved. His sister had decided to come to his aid.

“I know that, Fuyumi-nesan. I have no intention of allowing myself to be controlled. I have long since decided to stop doing everything he commands.” He assured her.

“Hai! That's right and I will support you in every way! I'm proud of you for deciding to leave the mansion and escape his control - ”

“Leaving the mansion was a mistake.” Kyouya cut in, halting his sister in mid-sentence. Fuyumi stared at him, not quite sure if she had heard him correctly.

Kyouya continued. “I left in anger and it was not a rational decision. I regret it now. Staying in the mansion would have been much more practical.”

Fuyumi looked at her younger brother with an expression of utter confusion. “But I thought...I thought Otousan made you do something and you refused…that's why you left…”

“The truth is, Fuyumi-nesan, I don't exactly dislike what Otousan wants me to do.”

“Eh?”

“What angered me was the way he still tried to control me….and someone else. I also resented his insinuations as to how I'm going to fulfill his wishes.”

“What do you mean?”

Kyouya did not answer her. He remembered clearly what his father had said.

“…make sure she goes to no one else…”

If he knew well enough the twisted machinations of his father's mind, he was certain that his words were meant to tell him that he must succeed through any means necessary. He knew well enough what his father had in mind - there was one way to make marriage a most agreeable option. The contrived tryst that he had so cunningly orchestrated for them was proof that his father wanted him to use every possible means.

The thought of it angered him and drove him to all but sever all ties with his father. He feared that Haruhi would discover it. He knew she would not be manipulated, she would not be controlled. What his father had in mind would only drive her away - perhaps, forever.

And that was one outcome, he would not accept.

“Kyouya-san, I still don't understand…” Fuyumi intoned pleadingly.

Kyouya hesitated to tell her all. He did not want to deceive his sister, yet he had decided that the less she knew about the entire thing, the better it would be for her.

“Leaving the mansion was a mistake in one way but providence in another.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I left the mansion, I realized something.”

“And what was that?”

Turning to face his sister, with a wry smile he told her how he really felt about himself.

“I was a fool.”

“Eh?”

Kyouya stood up, leaving a confused Fuyumi behind and walked towards the table where the key card lay. He picked it up and gripped it almost painfully in his hand.

He had prided himself in knowing everything he needed to know about something, of keeping track of even the most insignificant details of the most trivial things - yet he had missed seeing what should have been obvious right from the very start.

It was as if he had missed a large note scrawled across the pages of his notebook.

His reason told him that Haruhi Fujioka would give him nothing in the way of social, economic or political benefits. She did not have the right lineage and pedigree. She was of a social class completely beneath his. There was absolutely no reason for him to even consider her.

So he ignored her - or at least, he tried to.

During the festival, the one thing he thought he wanted above all else, the one thing that he directed all his energies, his skills and all that he ever learned was acquiring the company that his father cheated him of. He thought at that time that he would rather risk all that he had achieved than lose the medical company, the one thing he had devoted his whole life to inherit.

But even then, he should have known. He should have noticed that every time he looked up from his laptop there was only one person he wanted to see, one face he longed to look at. Even as he thought he had immersed his entire mind and body into that one task, there was still one person who made him pause and look, just to see if she was still there, if she was alright.

Haruhi.

Even now, he had the most disturbing feeling that all he had ever done for the club was in one way or another directed towards keeping Haruhi in it. She would never be able to repay her debt, he would make it certain. For she had unknowingly taken from him something infinitely more valuable than even a million antique vases put together.

And he wanted something in return, nothing less than what she had of him. He would do everything and he would risk everything for it. Even if she denied him, he would not give up. He would woo her, pursue her, and persuade her - everything short of forcing or manipulating her.

The mere thought of pursuing her was sheer pleasure. He relished the challenge, even as he feared the consequences of his failure - that she would resist, that she would deny him the chance.

I will not fail.

He knew what he had to do and the sooner he started, the better.

Turning to face his sister, Kyouya asked a question he had never thought he would ask.

“Fuyumi-nesan, do you know how to prepare a bento?”

To be continued…