[Ouran] The Happy Accident
Sep. 24th, 2020 07:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: The Happy Accident
Universe: Ouran High School Host Club, post-anime
Characters: Hitachiin Hikaru, Ootori Kyouya, Hitachiin Kaoru, others in passing
Rated: T
Enticements: Fluff, Romance, First Kiss
Description: Kaoru’s misplaced guilt is suffocating, but somehow, it’s Kyouya’s unexpected support that really throws Hikaru for a loop.
Commission for CancerHeart69.
"It's a commoner mall," Hikaru insists as he stares down his security entourage. "No one's going to recognize me there. How protected do I need to be?"
He'll draw more attention with a passel of security following him around, then if he wanders the aisles like the average school student on the average Saturday. He’s safer if he blends in, rather than making himself a target. After all, Haruhi does all her own shopping without getting into any trouble.
Why can’t Hikaru do the same?
They grumble, Saki especially, because she takes great pride in keeping him safe. But Hikaru is as much their boss as his parents, so the argue comes to an end when he puts his foot down. His security team waits outside, specifically around the corner, so as not to draw attention with the shiny car sitting outside the mall.
And Hikaru is free to go about his business in peace.
HIkaru shoves his hands in the pockets of his carefully selected hoodie and strolls into the mall, shoulders slouched, trying to look as common as he possibly can. He's had a lot of practice, thanks to Haruhi. It's not a perfect performance, but it's good enough.
It's weird.
Not because things are a lower quality than he used to, but because Kaoru is not beside him. No, his stupid twin had to go work on some secret project with Kyouya, and wouldn't let Hikaru tag along. He doesn’t like how close Kaoru is getting to Kyouya.
Hikaru really doesn't like the amount of influence Kyouya-senpai has over his brother either. Kaoru is starting to argue more, and insist on certain things, and it's annoying.
Ugh.
He ducks into the nearest store and is immediately swallowed by color and sound and the press of people rifling through stacks of merchandise, hunting for the best deal. Nothing catches his eye, and Hikaru admits, this isn't as much fun by himself as it would be with Kaoru, or even the whole host club.
He dutifully gives the mall a full circuit anyway, making a few mental notes of places he might bring Kaoru to later, if he can pull his twin away from Kyouya-senpai. He does find something he thinks Haruhi might like, though he dithers for a solid ten minutes on it before he purchases it. Maybe he'll give it to her, maybe he won't.
Friends give each other gifts, right? He doesn't have to be dating her to give her a gift. Though he'll have to figure out how to get her to accept it. She could be weird about gifts sometimes. Hikaru blames that on Kyouya-senpai. Nothing he does comes without strings attached.
There's an absolutely garish shirt with the English phrase "Kiss the King" on it, and it's covered in hearts and sparkles and crowns, and Hikaru is filled with devious glee as he purchases it for Tamaki-senpai. This is someone who knows how to accept a gift, and he's going to love it, as ugly as it is.
Which probably means there's a "tacky shirt day" in their future for the host club but whatever, it'll give the ladies a laugh, and Hikaru can't wait to see what other nonsense the rest of the club will show up wearing.
He tucks both purchases into the bag he slings over his shoulder, and pulls out his cell as he heads to the exit. He's bored now. Might as well go home.
Unreasonable expectations of waiting time means that Saki, and the car, have had to move. But being around Haruhi has given Hikaru a smidgen of patience for the odd commoner rules. He waits without complaint, idly scrolling through social media, while the sun beams down on him, warming the tops of his ears.
An engine revs.
Someone screams.
Hikaru looks up in time to see the vehicle barreling toward him, black and gleaming, the face masked behind the wheel. In the split-second he has to move, he knows he's not fast enough. The bumper clips his right hip and sends him spinning.
Pain flashes through his body, lightning-quick. He skids across pavement, bounces his skull on the concrete, and sees stars.
Then he sees nothing at all.
~
Numbers.
Kyouya likes numbers.
He especially likes numbers which continue to grow with almost zero effort on his part, so finely has he manipulated them. The bright hum of satisfaction thrives within him, long after he'd turned the company back over to his father. He works hard, continues to work hard still, because now he has something to work hard for.
He's going to excel. He knows it.
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?" Kyouya asks.
"Grinning evilly to yourself."
Kyouya looks over the top of his screen at Kaoru, lounging like the indolent wretch he is, papers spread out across the futon in front of him. "Am I?" Kyouya asks.
"It's subtle, but it's there." Kaoru smirks, a shady echo of his more obstinate twin. "Are you demolishing someone's financial future again?"
Kyouya adjusts his glasses and says, with zero inflection, "I don't know what you mean."
Kaoru snorts and takes a paper from one stack to add it to another. "You couldn't be more smug if you tried.” He rolls over to his other side as his phone starts to chirp. "Wanna bet it's Hikaru again?"
"That's a fair assumption, and I only take bets I know I can win.” Kyouya drops his attention back to his calculations, watching the numbers steadily climb.
Kaoru rolls over on his back, but he's frowning. "She never calls," he says before he answers the phone.
It's the immediate quiet which captures Kyouya's attention. He expects to hear chatter and teasing, and is well-equipped to tune it out. He's learned how to work in noise. Quiet, however, distracts him.
He looks up as Kaoru bolts upright, all of the blood drained from his face, his eyes wide and panicked. "Where did they take him?" Kaoru demands as he scrambles to get off the futon, sending papers flying. "I'll be right there."
Kyouya quietly saves his progress and closes his computer, tucking it under his arm. He's there in a flash, catching Kaoru under his free arm, as Kaoru tries to stand and his knees buckle. He's shaking, so pale Kyouya can see every hidden freckle, and there's only one thing which can make Kaoru look so frightened.
"What happened to Hikaru?" Kyouya asks.
"I should've been with him," Kaoru says, raw and aching. He clings to Kyouya, fingers digging in, as if he needs something to hold onto without his twin by his side.
Sometimes, their dependency on one another worries Kyouya. He had hoped Haruhi's influence would help draw them out of it, and it has worked, to an extent. But it's also a weakness others can exploit.
"There is nothing wrong with you two spending time apart," Kyouya says, trying to keep his tone calm and even in hopes Kaoru will mimic him. He walks toward the door, and Kaoru moves with him, still clinging. "Now. What happened?"
"An accident, I think." Kaoru sucks in a huge gulp of air, and stares at the ground, focusing on his feet. "A car jumped a curb and hit him."
He'll have been taken to the Ootori Medical Center then. The Hitachiin family would have insisted upon it, once they'd been called, and no doubt Hikaru had been around someone who'd have known. The twins went nowhere without a driver, much like the rest of the host club. It was expected of them.
"Hikaru is resilient." Kyouya tucks his laptop more firmly under his arm and roots around for his phone, all without Kaoru losing his grip. "I'll have them drive us nonetheless. We should be there in no time at all."
"Us?" Kaoru warbles. He's sniffling now, his eyes wet and watery.
Damn.
This is the part where Kyouya does not excel. Someone else should be here. Anyone else should be here. A teddy bear would be a better replacement.
Kyouya debates who to call.
Unfortunately, Mori and Hunny are out of the country at the moment, attending an international martial arts tournament. Tamaki is likely to be as ruffled as Kaoru. He supposes he could call Haruhi. She is the only one both twins have let into their world, though she might be little comfort to Hikaru right now.
Tamaki, after all, had won that little competition, not that he'd ever known himself to be competing in the first place. Arguably, it's probably why he won.
Haruhi is his best bet.
"I'm not so crass as to send you off to the hospital alone," Kyouya says primly. "That would put harm to my investment."
"Investment," Kaoru echoes, and there's a pale imitation of the Hitachiin Smirk on his lips, a brief glimmer before it's chased by the worry. "That's the Kyouya-senpai I recognize."
Kyouya’s lips twitch in a smirk of their own as he pulls out his phone to make the call.
~
Ow.
Hikaru doesn't want to open his eyes, because that would be admitting the sheer amount of pain throbbing through his body. Everything hurts, like his skin is one massive bruise, and his eyelids feel gummy with sleep.
Ow, ow, ow.
Also, his right arm is numb, and he can't feel his fingers, and there's a weight on it which can only be Kaoru.
"Off," Hikaru mumbles as he tries to free his arm and fails. "C'mon, Kaoru. I can't feel my arm."
"Stop doing that unless you wish to bleed all over the place."
That's not Kaoru's voice.
Hikaru's eyes pop open, only to instantly half-shutter. The ceiling is too bright, and the sun streaming through the window is too bright, and the lamp in his peripheral vision is too bright. He sees spots, and it takes too long for his eyes to focus.
His nose stings with the smell of too-clean and too-sterile. Hospital. He's in a hospital.
Oh. Right. The car.
He turns his head, and there's Kaoru, curled up on a couch, his head pillowed on Haruhi's lap, and a blanket draped over the both of them. Haruhi nuffles in her slip. Kaoru gnaws on his thumb, the wet sounds of it barely audible over Haruhi’s snores.
Kaoru hasn't done that in years.
On Hikaru's other side, perched in a chair with a computer in easy reach, is Kyouya-senpai. Hikaru has to blink a few times just to be sure he's not seeing things. Kyouya calmly types away, as if it's an everyday occurrence that he waits in a hospital, at Hikaru's bedside, like a person with feelings and not a Shadow King.
"You'll be happy to know that with some patience and physical therapy, you'll regain full use of your legs in no time," Kyouya says without looking up.
"What are you doing here?" Hikaru croaks, though his eyes wander to his own legs. One of which is encased in a cast while the other is firmly ensconced in a brace. His skin is covered in a variety of blue and purple and green and yellow bruises, not to mention more than a few raw, scabbed-over scrapes.
"That should be fairly obvious," Kyouya says with a tap-tap-tap of his fingers across the keys. "This hospital is owned by my family."
Hikaru furrows his brow. "Do all the patients get such special service?"
"Of course not. You should appreciate how lucky you are."
"Lucky. Right." Hikaru snorts. His legs are dull throbs of pain. When he runs his tongue over his dry lips, he tastes blood, and his mouth is dry and stale. He's sure he needs to bathe.
"What day is it?" Hikaru asks.
"Thursday."
Hikaru jerks, and then hisses when a fresh wave of pain radiates through his battered body. His free hand fumbles for a call button. "It's been a week?" he demands as he summons a nurse who will hopefully bring him the good drugs. Anything so he doesn’t feel like he’s one giant bruise.
"Nearly, yes." Kyouya finally closes his computer and looks up at Hikaru, adjusting his glasses as he does so. "What do you remember?"
Thinking hurts, but Hikaru tries anyway. "Shopping. Leaving." His scowl deepens. "And a car running me over."
Some luck.
"That's the extent of it." Kyouya folds his hands in his lap. "I'll let the doctor tell you more about your injuries, but you're young. You should recover fairly quickly."
"Not if this pain won't stop," Hikaru growls.
As if on cue, his door clicks open. A nurse bustles inside, a smile on her face, but more importantly, what looks like a syringe in her hands. At this moment, she is the prettiest creature Hikaru has ever seen.
"It's nice to see you awake, Hitachiin-kun. Please feel free to let us know if there's anything we can do to help," she says, but all Hikaru wants is whatever’s in the syringe she’s slowly adding to his drip.
“Thank you,” he says anyway, with his most charming smile, one that would make Tamaki quite proud.
It must have been enough noise to finally rouse Kaoru and Haruhi, because a warbling “Hikaru” floats through the air. Hikaru has a second to draw in a breath before arms wrap around him, squeezing painfully tight, and every bruise snarls angrily.
He sucks in a breath.
Kaoru immediately pulls back, but doesn’t go far, his face pale, and his eyes red, and his clothes rumpled. He looks like he’s skipped school all week -- probably their parents didn’t care enough to make sure he went. He looks like a hot mess, and Hikaru doesn’t refrain from saying so.
“Sorry,” Kaoru says, not looking very sorry at all because he looks like death warmed over, and Hikaru supposes he can’t even be mad about it. He doesn’t think he’d look any better if their positions were swapped.
“S’fine,” Hikaru mutters. “It’ll heal.”
Kaoru’s lower lip wobbles before he inhales and seems to gather strength around him like it’s a designer cloak. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“I didn’t really decide to do it this time,” Hikaru grumbles. It’s not his fault he got hit by a car. He was on the sidewalk where pedestrians are supposed to be.
“Just don’t do it again,” Kaoru says, crawling onto the bed, into the narrow space that won’t fit him, but he makes himself fit, jostling Hikaru all the while.
He sighs. He hisses. He snaps at Kaoru, but nothing works, so Hikaru gives in and gives Haruhi a look of long-suffering and a plea for rescue.
“We were worried about you,” she says with a pat to his bruised hand, the one without the IV. “Get better soon, Hikaru.”
She’s no help.
Hikaru turns pleading eyes to Kyouya, but he’s gone. He must have slipped out of the room in the chaos, and HIkaru doesn’t blame him. This kind of thing isn’t really Kyouya’s forte anyway. It’s nice enough he was here in the first place.
So Hikaru lets Kaoru cuddle him and sniffle, and try to crawl beneath his skin, while he waits for the pain medication to kick in and courageously fends off Haruhi’s attempts to offer him the schoolwork she has been collecting on his behalf.
~
Point of fact, the world does not cease to turn because one of their own is in the hospital with a broken leg, and a dozen cuts, bruises, and strained tendons. The host club is still expected to attend class, to hold their activities, to do their homework, to continue their lives despite the fact Hikaru is not with them and by default, neither is Kaoru.
The only ones who could have been capable of forcing Kaoru to return to school are his parents, and Kyouya cannot be the only one surprised that they haven’t bothered to do so. There is much wealth can buy a person, and the ability for the superintendent to look the other way in Kaoru’s increased absences is one of them.
That and Kyouya wonders if perhaps they don’t care.
No, that is a cruel assumption. He’s sure they care in their own way, but like many others, don’t know how to soothe a child they’ve barely raised. They give Kaoru what he wants, because they don’t know what else to do. The twins will each receive the best of care. They will have tutors to ensure they do not fall behind in their schoolwork.
They’ll be fine.
Money buys a lot of things.
Including access to Hikaru at any time they please. The host club visits on a regular basis, heading over immediately after school and after host activities, often with armfuls of get-well gifts from the customers who miss their favorite hosts.
This is on top of the outrageous amount of items Tamaki and Hunny have already brought to decorate Hikaru’s room. Balloons and flowers and boxes of chocolate litter every available surface, and the room no longer smells of hospital disinfectant, because it reeks of a floral cacophony that Hikaru must be nose-blind to by now.
You’d think he was dying.
Hikaru is a king upon his throne, so to speak, lounging in the hospital bed whilst being waited upon hand and food. He has gourmet meals, constant company, and more well-wishes than any other patient in the hospital.
Yet, he has the audacity to scowl.
“I want to go home,” he grits through his teeth, Kaoru briefly banished to the hospital cafeteria because Hikaru has demanded a moment’s peace.
“You’re being discharged tomorrow,” Kyouya informs him without looking up from his laptop. He has work of his own to do, which he can accomplish while keeping Hikaru company.
He’s told Tamaki this. He’s reminded Tamaki this. And yet, Tamaki continues to try and insist Kyouya give Hikaru his full attention when they come to visit.
Perhaps that’s the reason Tamaki and the rest of the host club are in the cafeteria with Kaoru, shouted out of the room by a flustered and impatient Hikaru who apparently, wanted some peace and quiet.
Kyouya hadn’t left.
It had taken Hikaru an embarrassingly long time to notice. Kyouya took a secret pleasure in it, though he was careful not to show it.
“Do you want me to leave, too?” he’d asked, peering over the top of his computer screen.
Hikaru scowls and tears into one of the boxes of chocolate. “You can stay,” he says before he shoves two of the truffles into his mouth, and says around them, “Mori-senpai could’ve stayed, too, but if he did, who’s going to make sure Hunny-senpai doesn’t get lost?”
Kyouya snorts. “Fair.”
“Besides, you’re the only one who can get Kaoru to go home,” Hikaru says, and his forehead draws down.
Kyouya makes a non-committal noise. “Haruhi has had some success.”
“Not the way you do,” Hikaru says, and something in his tone is tight. It’s enough for Kyouya to glance up at him, read the scowl still on his lips, the bitterness in the twist of his mouth.
Kyouya’s not sure what it means. He relies on facts, events to support behaviors. Understanding people is more Tamaki’s forte, when he puts his mind to it. He doesn’t know if Hikaru is angry because Kaoru listens to Kyouya on occasion, or if he’s upset because Kaoru leaves at all, or if it’s something else entirely.
Emotions are not Kyouya’s purview. He prefers numbers. They, at least, make sense. They have rules which can be manipulated.
“It’s a matter of confidence,” Kyouya says, choosing his words carefully. “My family owns the hospital. I have significant sway here. Your brother is more certain of my ability to watch over you than Haruhi’s.”
“Sure,” Hikaru says. He closes the box of chocolates and sets it aside, head tilting back against the bed with a dull thunk. “I’m ready to go.”
“You’ve said that already,” Kyouya points out.
“I know.” Hikaru scowls, but it’s second nature by now and Kyouya doesn’t take it personally.
Hikaru has books and gaming systems and stacks of entertainment within reach, but Kyouya can’t blame him for being restless. It’s a terrible thing, to be bedbound when one is accustomed to running around freely. Kyouya wouldn’t mind -- imagine all the work he could accomplish without distraction -- but for someone like Hikaru, it must be a unique torture.
Hikaru picks up one of the books now -- a manga -- and listlessly leafs through it. For a few seconds, paper rustles, until Hikaru sighs, a boy aggrieved, and sets it aside. Kyouya waits to hear the television tick on, and when it doesn’t, he’s aware of the attention being paid to his person.
“Why?” Hikaru asks.
Kyouya saves his work and switches to another program. “You’ll have to be more specific,” he says as he reviews the days finances. He will have to cull some of Tamaki’s spending since they can’t rely on the income the Hitachiin brothers would usually generate.
“Why are you here?”
Kyouya doesn’t immediately respond with a flippant retort because there is sincere curiosity in Hikaru’s question. Instead, he gives it the patient thought it deserves before he looks up from his laptop, and tilts his head.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks.
Hikaru blinks at him. “Well, I mean… that’s…” He squirms, fiddling with the television remote. “You’re you. And I know this kind of thing isn’t your… thing.”
“How eloquent,” Kyouya says.
Hikaru scowls, pink dusting his cheeks. “Shut up,” he says. “You know what I mean. I get the idiot brigade.” He tips his head in the vague direction the host club had dragged Kaoru. “But you usually don’t go for the caring angle. Unless it’s one of the ladies.” The pink deepens to a rosy hue.
“You think I don’t care?”
“That’s not what I said!”
Amusement tugs at Kyouya’s lips, though he smooths it over before Hikaru can catch a glimpse of it. He closes his laptop, folding his hands over it, giving Hikaru his full attention.
“You’re right,” he concedes. “This is not my usual… thing.” Hikaru rolls his eyes at Kyouya’s blatant quote. “I am going to tell you something, and I know it may come as a surprise, but please restrain yourself. I trust it will not leave this room.”
Now Hikaru smirks, and there’s a light of devilish energy in his eyes. “Ooo. A secret?” He squirms in the bed like he’s trying to sit up, but the contraptions holding him in place prevent it. “Spill.”
Kyouya smiles, slow and with a devilish energy of his own. He leans forward, and Hikaru looks at him eagerly.
“I do actually care,” Kyouya says. “And this is my way of showing it.”
“That’s not a secret!” Hikaru growls, flushing with irritation as he flops back against the bed. He winces then, disturbing some bruise, but while Kaoru might be up in a flutter to make sure he’s all right, Kyouya knows better.
He opens his laptop to return to his calculations. Hikaru is and will be fine.
“You’re an ass,” Hikaru says.
“You should get some sleep before the so-called idiot brigade returns,” Kyouya says to his spreadsheet. “You’re getting discharged in a week, and you know when you do, there’ll be no peace.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Hikaru grumbles, and the television clicks on, quiet enough it doesn’t bother Kyouya, but loud enough Hikaru can hear it.
A full five minutes passes before Hikaru says, grudgingly, “Thanks,” and Kyoua smiles, politely pretending he hadn’t heard it.
~
There’s no place like home.
Even though he’s still wrapped up in a cast and has a team of skilled nurses round the clock to see to his every need, he’s not stuck in the hospital anymore, which means Kaoru isn’t going to try to cling to him like saran wrap.
Or at least, that’s Hikaru’s hope. It’s not so true in reality.
Kaoru abandons his own room and moves into Hikaru’s, guilt evident in the way he hovers, even though it’s not his fault the car hit Hikaru. He keeps saying how he should’ve been there, and it’s enough to drive Hikaru nuts. He’s given up trying to convince Kaoru otherwise, though the fervent promises are a little worrying.
“I’m never going to leave your side again,” Kaoru insists.
Hikaru sighs and rolls his eyes and repeats, for the umpteenth time, “We can’t live our lives attached at the hips. Haven’t you been trying to tell me that?”
“It’s different now,” Kaoru says, jaw set stubbornly.
“Yeah. Because we have friends now,” HIkaru says, and pokes Kaoru in the ribs. “Go hang out with Kyouya-senpai or something. I need some space to breathe, Kaoru.”
Only that is apparently the wrong thing to say because Kaoru’s eyes get big and watery. Hikaru remembers a bit too late that spending time with Kyouya is exactly what Kaoru had been doing when Hikaru got hurt.
Stupid.
“Try calling Hunny-senpai,” Hikaru says, in a rush. “Or Tamaki-senpai. You know he could use a distraction. Show him your pretty face.”
Kaoru sets his jaw. “No,” he says, and flops down beside Hikaru, picking up the second controller from their paused game. “Best ten out of thirteen?”
Hikaru sighs. “Fine.”
Hikaru loves his twin. Given any other situation, he’d probably celebrate missing school and spending time at home, sitting on his ass playing video games and not doing much. If he had the freedom to move as he pleased, it wouldn’t be so bad.
If Kaoru wasn’t clinging to him like a leech, radiating enough heavy guilt for it to seep into Hikaru by proxy. It’s driving Hikaru crazy, and all he wants is some peace and quiet. It almost makes him long for the hospital, when Kyouya could back him up, kick everyone out, and they’d just sit together in companionable quiet.
It’s weird. Hikaru didn’t think there’d ever come a day when the person he misses the most is Kyouya, but here he is, wishing it was the Shadow King beside him, rather than the clinging octopus who is his twin.
So when Hikaru pulls himself out of the bed, into the wheelchair, and wheels himself out of the room -- all without an exhausted Kaoru noticing -- it’s not Haruhi he calls when he sits near the window in the darkened hallway. It’s Kyouya.
Kyouya who picks up on the first ring, like he’s been holding his phone and waiting for someone to call. “What’s wrong?” he says.
“Nothing,” Hikaru says in a rush, because of course Kyouya would be worried. “It’s just… Kaoru is driving me crazy, and I wanted to talk to someone else.”
“And you called me?” Kyouya sounds more amused than annoyed, and in the background, Hikaru can hear the familiar click-click-click of him working on his computer. The damn thing is attached to his fingers.
“It’s two in the morning, why are you awake?” Hikaru asks, frowning.
Kyouya chuckles, and it actually sounds genuine. It’s kind of nice. “I should be asking you the same question,” he says. “I find that working when everyone else is asleep means I actually get things done.”
“Yeah. Night time is the only time no one hovers,” Hikaru says. He swivels the wheelchair around so he can look out the window. It’s too cloudy for him to see any stars though.
Figures.
“And Kaoru’s in my bed! He hasn’t gotten out of my bed since I came home,” Hikaru grumbles. “My physical therapy starts next week and he’s already promised he’s going to be right by my side the whole time, cheering me on, and ugh. That’s not the reassurance he thinks it is.”
There’s a pause in the rhythmic clicking. “Your physical therapist is employed by the Ootoris.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Hikaru sighs.
“By that I mean, I can ensure your appointments are attended only by whom you’d like to have attend them,” Kyouya says, and the typing starts again. “I can arrange for Kaoru to be otherwise occupied. Though I’d still suggest you bring someone for support.”
“Why not you?” Hikaru asks, the question popping out before he realizes what a stupid idea it is. He doesn’t know why he asked.
Kyouya has far better things to do than sit by Hikaru’s side and babysit--
“I have the time if you’d like,” Kyouya says, cutting off Hikaru’s internal run-on sentences. “I can make room in my schedule. I’ll find out your appointment times.”
“I… thanks,” Hikaru says, stunned.
Kyouya makes a non-committal noise. “Go back to bed, Hikaru. Invalids need all the rest they can get.”
Hikaru laughs. “That sounds more like the Kyouya-senpai I know. Don’t stay up too late or you’ll get wrinkles.”
Kyouya chuckles until Hikaru hangs up on him. He’s left smiling at his cell like an idiot, so he tucks it away and wheels himself back to his room.
~
“But I’m his brother!” Kaoru argues, trying to move past Kyouya, but a wall of Ootori security refuse to let him pass. It might be overkill, but Kyouya had made a promise, and he always keeps his promises.
“This is a trial Hikaru wants to take on his own, Kaoru,” Kyouya says from behind a clipboard, making a few notations while he waits for the physical therapist to let him know Hikaru is ready.
Kaoru sets his jaw and looks for all the world as if he’s going to stomp his foot. “This is my house. You can’t do this.”
Kyouya’s phone beeps, which is his cue. “We’ll be out in an hour,” he says. “Why don’t you go see if you can find something for Hunny-senpai in the kitchen? He’s wasting away over there.”
Over there being the huddle of host club students watching the drama eagerly. Haruhi is the only one indifferent, bored even, as though she can’t remember why she’s here except that Tamaki likely pulled her in his wake. Mori is trying to corral both Hunny and Tamaki, and having limited success. Kyouya does not envy him the effort.
Kaoru's bottom lip trembles. "Why do you care?"
Kyouya tucks his laptop under his arm and adjusts his glasses. "We'll be done in an hour, and then you can fuss to your heart's content," he says, and slips through the wall of Ootori security, ignoring Kaoru's indignant growl behind him.
Why does he care indeed?
Kyouya knows he is something of a wall to his friends, a spot of cold in their warmth, because he does not outwardly display his affection like the others. But to ask why he cares is the same as accusing him of not caring in the first place.
Kaoru can't help it; Kyouya is aware of this. Kaoru suffers from an overabundance of guilt and worry, and he's overcompensating for it in the worst possible ways. It's no wonder Hikaru is looking to others for support, looking to someone like Kyouya, who is practical without being noisy about it.
Hikaru, miracle of miracles, has somehow managed to become less irritating by his circumstances. At least Kaoru's nannying has given Hikaru something else to fret over, rather than his currently diminished physical state.
"You're late," Hikaru says when Kyouya steps into the large sun room which has been converted for use in Hikaru's rehabilitation. "Let me guess: Kaoru?"
"You two only have yourselves to blame for your co-dependency issues." Kyouya takes a seat, close enough to offer support but not get in the way.
Hikaru snorts, but he doesn't refute Kyouya's statement. "And here I thought you liked him more."
"What would give you that impression?" Kyouya asks.
Hikaru's wheelchair squeaks as he shifts his weight. He doesn't answer, instead flashing one of his patent smiles up at his physical therapist though it doesn't hide the stain of pink in his cheeks. "We can get started now."
The blush is not feigned. It's a different shade than the act he and Hikaru put on for their patrons. And it is adorable for it's honesty.
Kyouya blinks as the observation flashes quicksilver through his thoughts. Adorable? Hikaru? Surely he's not falling for the same drivel the Hitachiin fans shell out money for, hand over fist? There's nothing adorable about the loud-mouthed, cocky brat.
Nothing except that confident smirk he tosses Kyouya before he rises on shaky limbs and takes one coltish step with the physical therapist's help.
Kyoua's heart thuds louder in his chest.
Oh.
~
A month.
It’s been a month of grueling, sweaty, painful physical therapy, where Kaoru complains because he’s not allowed to be there, and Kyouya hasn’t missed a session. Not even once.
Most of the time he sits in a corner and works, the constant staccato of his fingers over the keys more reassuring than words. Occasionally, he gets up and wonders closer, hands slung in his pockets, watching as Hikaru grunts and pulls himself through the rigorous stretches and exercises while his physical therapist encourages him.
He doesn’t say much. Which is good, because Hikaru doesn’t want him to talk. Kaoru talks more than enough, that the blissful silence when Kyouya is around starts to become something Hikaru craves.
A month of Kyouya coming to his physical therapy, and no less than a dozen after-midnight phone calls, where Hikaru rolls himself into a quiet hallway, and Kyouya always picks up by the end of the first ring.
A dozen midnight phone calls talking about nothing and everything, full of Hikaru’s muffled laughter and Kyouya’s quiet chuckles, and Hikaru rolling back to bed feeling better than when he’d clawed his way out of it and Kaoru’s guilty octopus grip.
A month and now Kyouya stands on the other side of a pair of raised rails. Hikaru is supposed to walk all the way to the end of it, because his physical therapist told him he couldn’t do it, and Hikaru loves proving people wrong.
“It’s too early,” she’d said. “You need to work on your strength first.”
Hikaru had scoffed, waited until she left, and then said, “All right, Kyouya. Help me up.”
And Kyouya had.
He’d gotten Hikaru up on his feet, braced him while he gripped the rails, got his feet beneath him, stood firm and ready. Then he’d moved to the other end, challenge in the glint of his glasses.
“Don’t blame me if you fall on your ass,” he’d said.
“I won’t,” Hikaru had boasted.
“We’ll see,” Kyouya had challenged.
After the first shaky step, Hikaru realizes he might have overestimated himself a tad.
“What do I get when I make it?” Hikaru asks, taking another wobbly step forward, his hands braced on the bars.
Kyouya cocks an eyebrow at him. “If you make it, you’ll find out.”
“Fuck you, I’ll make it,” Hikaru growls. He pulls himself forward, again and again. His arms shake, sweat beads down his back, and his hair clings to his forehead.
Kyouya doesn’t encourage him. It’s not his style. He just stands there at the end, arms crossed, one eyebrow cocked, and his stare is a challenge one Hikaru intends to meet.
One foot in front of the other. One aching foot in front of the other. Stupid accident. Stupid car. Stupid doctor telling him he’ll always have a limp. It’s not going to happen. Hikaru’s too stubborn. He’s going to walk. He’s going to dance. He’s going to--
He’s going to make it across this floor, and get his reward from Kyouya, that’s what he’s going to do.
Hikaru’s arms ache. One foot moves slowly, but the other drags, the one he’d fractured. It doesn’t want to bear his weight, but he makes it do it anyway. He mutters under his breath, swears he can hear Kaoru telling him he doesn’t have to do it, he can sit and rest, it’s okay.
Well, fuck you, too.
Hikaru can do it.
See? Kyouya is right there. Watching him. Believing him. All without saying a word.
Just one.
More.
Step.
Hikaru lunges at the last second, grinning his glee, and surprising Kyouya who doesn’t know quite what to do with the sudden surge of Hitachiin except to catch him. Hikaru is a damp, panting mess, but he looks up at Kyouya and gasps,
“I did it. What’s my prize?”
Kyouya blinks down at him, his arms firm around Hikaru’s torso. “What…” he pauses, and for the first time since they’ve met, Hikaru sees him rattled. “What would you like?”
“You mean you don’t already know?” Hikaru tries to laugh it off, but for some reason, it’s hard to catch his breath. Kyouya smells really good. He should pull away.
Shouldn’t he?
He looks up, and Kyouya looks back at him. Hikaru thinks about all those stupid romance novels Kaoru reads when he thinks no one is watching, and if there was a perfect moment that would fit in one of those novels, this would be it.
So he’s not surprised when Kyouya kisses him.
Hikaru’s more surprised by how eagerly he kisses back, his fingers twisting in Kyouya’s shirt, rumbling the iron-pressed fabric. He’s coated in sweat, and his legs wobble, but Kyouya’s holding him up easily enough, despite Hikaru’s growth spurt that matches them inch for inch now.
Kyouya’s mouth is warm and wet against his, but the kiss is awkward. Hikaru’s knees threaten to give way, and he only ends the kiss because it would be really ridiculous if he, you know, fell down.
“I think I need to sit,” Hikaru says.
“Oh,” Kyouya says, and there it is again, that rare flustered look, a blush of red across the top of his cheeks.
“My leg hurts,” Hikaru says, and sags even more in Kyouya’s arms. Only then does Kyouya stir into action, helping Hikaru hobble to a nearby bench and collapse onto the padded surface with a relieved sigh.
A long, awkward silence settles between them. Kyouya clears his throat a couple times. Hikaru chugs a bottle of water, swearing he can feel the phantom sensation of Kyouya’s lips on his.
“So…” Hikaru says as the sweat turns his shirt wet and clammy, “That just my prize for making it to the end or…?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kyouya says, and folds one arm, pushing up his glasses with the tip of a finger from his other hand. “Clearly, we have an affection for one another.”
“Clearly,” Hikaru drawls. “What happens next?”
“Hm.”
Hikaru turns, achingly slow because man, he might have overworked himself today, and pokes Kyouya in the shoulder. “I can hear those equations clicking away.”
“Strangely enough, I can’t seem to calculate a thing.” Kyouya looks at him, head tilted, his lips a moue of perplexed irritation. “All I can think about is kissing you again.”
Hikaru grins. “There’s a simple answer to that, senpai. Just do it.”
Kyouya adjusts his glasses, which he usually does when he’s trying to regain the upper hand or show off how superior he is. “You are infuriating. I don’t know why-- mmph.”
Mmph is the only suitable answer in Hikaru’s opinion, because if Kyouya can surprise him with a kiss, then Hikaru can do it, too. Especially when he gets a double fistful of Kyouya’s shirt and yanks him into it, knocking those glasses askew. And because Hikaru is full of daring today, he flicks his tongue against the seam of Kyouya’s lips, and tastes green tea when Kyouya opens for him. Melts into the kiss just a little.
“Fine,” Kyouya says, his breath puffing over Hikaru’s lips. “I admit I’m fond of you.”
Hikaru chuckles. “That’s a good answer.” He smooths his hands over Kyouya’s shirt, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. “Does that mean I should call you my boyfriend now?”
Kyouya bats Hikaru’s hands away, fixing his glasses as he stands. “Come on,” he says, before Hikaru can start feeling the tiniest bit abandoned. “You need a shower.”
“Are you joining me in it?” Hikaru asks, waggling his eyebrows.
Kyouya sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What am I getting into?”
Hikaru lurches to his feet, clinging onto Kyouya to keep his balance. Kyouya could’ve sidestepped, let HIkaru faceplant, but he steadies Hikaru instead.
Awww. He really is fond.
“I admit I’m fond of you, too,” Hikaru says, perfectly imitating Kyouya’s tone purely because he knows it will annoy the Shadow King. “Kiss me again? Otherwise, I’m going to think this is one weird fever dream.”
Kyouya rolls his eyes, but cups Hikaru’s face and pulls him in for another kiss, this one gentler and sweeter than before. There’s no bumping of teeth, no bruised lips, no muffled surprise. His thumb sweeps Hikaru’s cheek, and it’s so sweet it makes HIkaru’s teeth ache and his heart go pitter-patter.
Guh.
He’s totally gone for Kyouya, isn’t he?
Kaoru’s never going to let him live this down.
***
Universe: Ouran High School Host Club, post-anime
Characters: Hitachiin Hikaru, Ootori Kyouya, Hitachiin Kaoru, others in passing
Rated: T
Enticements: Fluff, Romance, First Kiss
Description: Kaoru’s misplaced guilt is suffocating, but somehow, it’s Kyouya’s unexpected support that really throws Hikaru for a loop.
Commission for CancerHeart69.
"It's a commoner mall," Hikaru insists as he stares down his security entourage. "No one's going to recognize me there. How protected do I need to be?"
He'll draw more attention with a passel of security following him around, then if he wanders the aisles like the average school student on the average Saturday. He’s safer if he blends in, rather than making himself a target. After all, Haruhi does all her own shopping without getting into any trouble.
Why can’t Hikaru do the same?
They grumble, Saki especially, because she takes great pride in keeping him safe. But Hikaru is as much their boss as his parents, so the argue comes to an end when he puts his foot down. His security team waits outside, specifically around the corner, so as not to draw attention with the shiny car sitting outside the mall.
And Hikaru is free to go about his business in peace.
HIkaru shoves his hands in the pockets of his carefully selected hoodie and strolls into the mall, shoulders slouched, trying to look as common as he possibly can. He's had a lot of practice, thanks to Haruhi. It's not a perfect performance, but it's good enough.
It's weird.
Not because things are a lower quality than he used to, but because Kaoru is not beside him. No, his stupid twin had to go work on some secret project with Kyouya, and wouldn't let Hikaru tag along. He doesn’t like how close Kaoru is getting to Kyouya.
Hikaru really doesn't like the amount of influence Kyouya-senpai has over his brother either. Kaoru is starting to argue more, and insist on certain things, and it's annoying.
Ugh.
He ducks into the nearest store and is immediately swallowed by color and sound and the press of people rifling through stacks of merchandise, hunting for the best deal. Nothing catches his eye, and Hikaru admits, this isn't as much fun by himself as it would be with Kaoru, or even the whole host club.
He dutifully gives the mall a full circuit anyway, making a few mental notes of places he might bring Kaoru to later, if he can pull his twin away from Kyouya-senpai. He does find something he thinks Haruhi might like, though he dithers for a solid ten minutes on it before he purchases it. Maybe he'll give it to her, maybe he won't.
Friends give each other gifts, right? He doesn't have to be dating her to give her a gift. Though he'll have to figure out how to get her to accept it. She could be weird about gifts sometimes. Hikaru blames that on Kyouya-senpai. Nothing he does comes without strings attached.
There's an absolutely garish shirt with the English phrase "Kiss the King" on it, and it's covered in hearts and sparkles and crowns, and Hikaru is filled with devious glee as he purchases it for Tamaki-senpai. This is someone who knows how to accept a gift, and he's going to love it, as ugly as it is.
Which probably means there's a "tacky shirt day" in their future for the host club but whatever, it'll give the ladies a laugh, and Hikaru can't wait to see what other nonsense the rest of the club will show up wearing.
He tucks both purchases into the bag he slings over his shoulder, and pulls out his cell as he heads to the exit. He's bored now. Might as well go home.
Unreasonable expectations of waiting time means that Saki, and the car, have had to move. But being around Haruhi has given Hikaru a smidgen of patience for the odd commoner rules. He waits without complaint, idly scrolling through social media, while the sun beams down on him, warming the tops of his ears.
An engine revs.
Someone screams.
Hikaru looks up in time to see the vehicle barreling toward him, black and gleaming, the face masked behind the wheel. In the split-second he has to move, he knows he's not fast enough. The bumper clips his right hip and sends him spinning.
Pain flashes through his body, lightning-quick. He skids across pavement, bounces his skull on the concrete, and sees stars.
Then he sees nothing at all.
Numbers.
Kyouya likes numbers.
He especially likes numbers which continue to grow with almost zero effort on his part, so finely has he manipulated them. The bright hum of satisfaction thrives within him, long after he'd turned the company back over to his father. He works hard, continues to work hard still, because now he has something to work hard for.
He's going to excel. He knows it.
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?" Kyouya asks.
"Grinning evilly to yourself."
Kyouya looks over the top of his screen at Kaoru, lounging like the indolent wretch he is, papers spread out across the futon in front of him. "Am I?" Kyouya asks.
"It's subtle, but it's there." Kaoru smirks, a shady echo of his more obstinate twin. "Are you demolishing someone's financial future again?"
Kyouya adjusts his glasses and says, with zero inflection, "I don't know what you mean."
Kaoru snorts and takes a paper from one stack to add it to another. "You couldn't be more smug if you tried.” He rolls over to his other side as his phone starts to chirp. "Wanna bet it's Hikaru again?"
"That's a fair assumption, and I only take bets I know I can win.” Kyouya drops his attention back to his calculations, watching the numbers steadily climb.
Kaoru rolls over on his back, but he's frowning. "She never calls," he says before he answers the phone.
It's the immediate quiet which captures Kyouya's attention. He expects to hear chatter and teasing, and is well-equipped to tune it out. He's learned how to work in noise. Quiet, however, distracts him.
He looks up as Kaoru bolts upright, all of the blood drained from his face, his eyes wide and panicked. "Where did they take him?" Kaoru demands as he scrambles to get off the futon, sending papers flying. "I'll be right there."
Kyouya quietly saves his progress and closes his computer, tucking it under his arm. He's there in a flash, catching Kaoru under his free arm, as Kaoru tries to stand and his knees buckle. He's shaking, so pale Kyouya can see every hidden freckle, and there's only one thing which can make Kaoru look so frightened.
"What happened to Hikaru?" Kyouya asks.
"I should've been with him," Kaoru says, raw and aching. He clings to Kyouya, fingers digging in, as if he needs something to hold onto without his twin by his side.
Sometimes, their dependency on one another worries Kyouya. He had hoped Haruhi's influence would help draw them out of it, and it has worked, to an extent. But it's also a weakness others can exploit.
"There is nothing wrong with you two spending time apart," Kyouya says, trying to keep his tone calm and even in hopes Kaoru will mimic him. He walks toward the door, and Kaoru moves with him, still clinging. "Now. What happened?"
"An accident, I think." Kaoru sucks in a huge gulp of air, and stares at the ground, focusing on his feet. "A car jumped a curb and hit him."
He'll have been taken to the Ootori Medical Center then. The Hitachiin family would have insisted upon it, once they'd been called, and no doubt Hikaru had been around someone who'd have known. The twins went nowhere without a driver, much like the rest of the host club. It was expected of them.
"Hikaru is resilient." Kyouya tucks his laptop more firmly under his arm and roots around for his phone, all without Kaoru losing his grip. "I'll have them drive us nonetheless. We should be there in no time at all."
"Us?" Kaoru warbles. He's sniffling now, his eyes wet and watery.
Damn.
This is the part where Kyouya does not excel. Someone else should be here. Anyone else should be here. A teddy bear would be a better replacement.
Kyouya debates who to call.
Unfortunately, Mori and Hunny are out of the country at the moment, attending an international martial arts tournament. Tamaki is likely to be as ruffled as Kaoru. He supposes he could call Haruhi. She is the only one both twins have let into their world, though she might be little comfort to Hikaru right now.
Tamaki, after all, had won that little competition, not that he'd ever known himself to be competing in the first place. Arguably, it's probably why he won.
Haruhi is his best bet.
"I'm not so crass as to send you off to the hospital alone," Kyouya says primly. "That would put harm to my investment."
"Investment," Kaoru echoes, and there's a pale imitation of the Hitachiin Smirk on his lips, a brief glimmer before it's chased by the worry. "That's the Kyouya-senpai I recognize."
Kyouya’s lips twitch in a smirk of their own as he pulls out his phone to make the call.
Ow.
Hikaru doesn't want to open his eyes, because that would be admitting the sheer amount of pain throbbing through his body. Everything hurts, like his skin is one massive bruise, and his eyelids feel gummy with sleep.
Ow, ow, ow.
Also, his right arm is numb, and he can't feel his fingers, and there's a weight on it which can only be Kaoru.
"Off," Hikaru mumbles as he tries to free his arm and fails. "C'mon, Kaoru. I can't feel my arm."
"Stop doing that unless you wish to bleed all over the place."
That's not Kaoru's voice.
Hikaru's eyes pop open, only to instantly half-shutter. The ceiling is too bright, and the sun streaming through the window is too bright, and the lamp in his peripheral vision is too bright. He sees spots, and it takes too long for his eyes to focus.
His nose stings with the smell of too-clean and too-sterile. Hospital. He's in a hospital.
Oh. Right. The car.
He turns his head, and there's Kaoru, curled up on a couch, his head pillowed on Haruhi's lap, and a blanket draped over the both of them. Haruhi nuffles in her slip. Kaoru gnaws on his thumb, the wet sounds of it barely audible over Haruhi’s snores.
Kaoru hasn't done that in years.
On Hikaru's other side, perched in a chair with a computer in easy reach, is Kyouya-senpai. Hikaru has to blink a few times just to be sure he's not seeing things. Kyouya calmly types away, as if it's an everyday occurrence that he waits in a hospital, at Hikaru's bedside, like a person with feelings and not a Shadow King.
"You'll be happy to know that with some patience and physical therapy, you'll regain full use of your legs in no time," Kyouya says without looking up.
"What are you doing here?" Hikaru croaks, though his eyes wander to his own legs. One of which is encased in a cast while the other is firmly ensconced in a brace. His skin is covered in a variety of blue and purple and green and yellow bruises, not to mention more than a few raw, scabbed-over scrapes.
"That should be fairly obvious," Kyouya says with a tap-tap-tap of his fingers across the keys. "This hospital is owned by my family."
Hikaru furrows his brow. "Do all the patients get such special service?"
"Of course not. You should appreciate how lucky you are."
"Lucky. Right." Hikaru snorts. His legs are dull throbs of pain. When he runs his tongue over his dry lips, he tastes blood, and his mouth is dry and stale. He's sure he needs to bathe.
"What day is it?" Hikaru asks.
"Thursday."
Hikaru jerks, and then hisses when a fresh wave of pain radiates through his battered body. His free hand fumbles for a call button. "It's been a week?" he demands as he summons a nurse who will hopefully bring him the good drugs. Anything so he doesn’t feel like he’s one giant bruise.
"Nearly, yes." Kyouya finally closes his computer and looks up at Hikaru, adjusting his glasses as he does so. "What do you remember?"
Thinking hurts, but Hikaru tries anyway. "Shopping. Leaving." His scowl deepens. "And a car running me over."
Some luck.
"That's the extent of it." Kyouya folds his hands in his lap. "I'll let the doctor tell you more about your injuries, but you're young. You should recover fairly quickly."
"Not if this pain won't stop," Hikaru growls.
As if on cue, his door clicks open. A nurse bustles inside, a smile on her face, but more importantly, what looks like a syringe in her hands. At this moment, she is the prettiest creature Hikaru has ever seen.
"It's nice to see you awake, Hitachiin-kun. Please feel free to let us know if there's anything we can do to help," she says, but all Hikaru wants is whatever’s in the syringe she’s slowly adding to his drip.
“Thank you,” he says anyway, with his most charming smile, one that would make Tamaki quite proud.
It must have been enough noise to finally rouse Kaoru and Haruhi, because a warbling “Hikaru” floats through the air. Hikaru has a second to draw in a breath before arms wrap around him, squeezing painfully tight, and every bruise snarls angrily.
He sucks in a breath.
Kaoru immediately pulls back, but doesn’t go far, his face pale, and his eyes red, and his clothes rumpled. He looks like he’s skipped school all week -- probably their parents didn’t care enough to make sure he went. He looks like a hot mess, and Hikaru doesn’t refrain from saying so.
“Sorry,” Kaoru says, not looking very sorry at all because he looks like death warmed over, and Hikaru supposes he can’t even be mad about it. He doesn’t think he’d look any better if their positions were swapped.
“S’fine,” Hikaru mutters. “It’ll heal.”
Kaoru’s lower lip wobbles before he inhales and seems to gather strength around him like it’s a designer cloak. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“I didn’t really decide to do it this time,” Hikaru grumbles. It’s not his fault he got hit by a car. He was on the sidewalk where pedestrians are supposed to be.
“Just don’t do it again,” Kaoru says, crawling onto the bed, into the narrow space that won’t fit him, but he makes himself fit, jostling Hikaru all the while.
He sighs. He hisses. He snaps at Kaoru, but nothing works, so Hikaru gives in and gives Haruhi a look of long-suffering and a plea for rescue.
“We were worried about you,” she says with a pat to his bruised hand, the one without the IV. “Get better soon, Hikaru.”
She’s no help.
Hikaru turns pleading eyes to Kyouya, but he’s gone. He must have slipped out of the room in the chaos, and HIkaru doesn’t blame him. This kind of thing isn’t really Kyouya’s forte anyway. It’s nice enough he was here in the first place.
So Hikaru lets Kaoru cuddle him and sniffle, and try to crawl beneath his skin, while he waits for the pain medication to kick in and courageously fends off Haruhi’s attempts to offer him the schoolwork she has been collecting on his behalf.
Point of fact, the world does not cease to turn because one of their own is in the hospital with a broken leg, and a dozen cuts, bruises, and strained tendons. The host club is still expected to attend class, to hold their activities, to do their homework, to continue their lives despite the fact Hikaru is not with them and by default, neither is Kaoru.
The only ones who could have been capable of forcing Kaoru to return to school are his parents, and Kyouya cannot be the only one surprised that they haven’t bothered to do so. There is much wealth can buy a person, and the ability for the superintendent to look the other way in Kaoru’s increased absences is one of them.
That and Kyouya wonders if perhaps they don’t care.
No, that is a cruel assumption. He’s sure they care in their own way, but like many others, don’t know how to soothe a child they’ve barely raised. They give Kaoru what he wants, because they don’t know what else to do. The twins will each receive the best of care. They will have tutors to ensure they do not fall behind in their schoolwork.
They’ll be fine.
Money buys a lot of things.
Including access to Hikaru at any time they please. The host club visits on a regular basis, heading over immediately after school and after host activities, often with armfuls of get-well gifts from the customers who miss their favorite hosts.
This is on top of the outrageous amount of items Tamaki and Hunny have already brought to decorate Hikaru’s room. Balloons and flowers and boxes of chocolate litter every available surface, and the room no longer smells of hospital disinfectant, because it reeks of a floral cacophony that Hikaru must be nose-blind to by now.
You’d think he was dying.
Hikaru is a king upon his throne, so to speak, lounging in the hospital bed whilst being waited upon hand and food. He has gourmet meals, constant company, and more well-wishes than any other patient in the hospital.
Yet, he has the audacity to scowl.
“I want to go home,” he grits through his teeth, Kaoru briefly banished to the hospital cafeteria because Hikaru has demanded a moment’s peace.
“You’re being discharged tomorrow,” Kyouya informs him without looking up from his laptop. He has work of his own to do, which he can accomplish while keeping Hikaru company.
He’s told Tamaki this. He’s reminded Tamaki this. And yet, Tamaki continues to try and insist Kyouya give Hikaru his full attention when they come to visit.
Perhaps that’s the reason Tamaki and the rest of the host club are in the cafeteria with Kaoru, shouted out of the room by a flustered and impatient Hikaru who apparently, wanted some peace and quiet.
Kyouya hadn’t left.
It had taken Hikaru an embarrassingly long time to notice. Kyouya took a secret pleasure in it, though he was careful not to show it.
“Do you want me to leave, too?” he’d asked, peering over the top of his computer screen.
Hikaru scowls and tears into one of the boxes of chocolate. “You can stay,” he says before he shoves two of the truffles into his mouth, and says around them, “Mori-senpai could’ve stayed, too, but if he did, who’s going to make sure Hunny-senpai doesn’t get lost?”
Kyouya snorts. “Fair.”
“Besides, you’re the only one who can get Kaoru to go home,” Hikaru says, and his forehead draws down.
Kyouya makes a non-committal noise. “Haruhi has had some success.”
“Not the way you do,” Hikaru says, and something in his tone is tight. It’s enough for Kyouya to glance up at him, read the scowl still on his lips, the bitterness in the twist of his mouth.
Kyouya’s not sure what it means. He relies on facts, events to support behaviors. Understanding people is more Tamaki’s forte, when he puts his mind to it. He doesn’t know if Hikaru is angry because Kaoru listens to Kyouya on occasion, or if he’s upset because Kaoru leaves at all, or if it’s something else entirely.
Emotions are not Kyouya’s purview. He prefers numbers. They, at least, make sense. They have rules which can be manipulated.
“It’s a matter of confidence,” Kyouya says, choosing his words carefully. “My family owns the hospital. I have significant sway here. Your brother is more certain of my ability to watch over you than Haruhi’s.”
“Sure,” Hikaru says. He closes the box of chocolates and sets it aside, head tilting back against the bed with a dull thunk. “I’m ready to go.”
“You’ve said that already,” Kyouya points out.
“I know.” Hikaru scowls, but it’s second nature by now and Kyouya doesn’t take it personally.
Hikaru has books and gaming systems and stacks of entertainment within reach, but Kyouya can’t blame him for being restless. It’s a terrible thing, to be bedbound when one is accustomed to running around freely. Kyouya wouldn’t mind -- imagine all the work he could accomplish without distraction -- but for someone like Hikaru, it must be a unique torture.
Hikaru picks up one of the books now -- a manga -- and listlessly leafs through it. For a few seconds, paper rustles, until Hikaru sighs, a boy aggrieved, and sets it aside. Kyouya waits to hear the television tick on, and when it doesn’t, he’s aware of the attention being paid to his person.
“Why?” Hikaru asks.
Kyouya saves his work and switches to another program. “You’ll have to be more specific,” he says as he reviews the days finances. He will have to cull some of Tamaki’s spending since they can’t rely on the income the Hitachiin brothers would usually generate.
“Why are you here?”
Kyouya doesn’t immediately respond with a flippant retort because there is sincere curiosity in Hikaru’s question. Instead, he gives it the patient thought it deserves before he looks up from his laptop, and tilts his head.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks.
Hikaru blinks at him. “Well, I mean… that’s…” He squirms, fiddling with the television remote. “You’re you. And I know this kind of thing isn’t your… thing.”
“How eloquent,” Kyouya says.
Hikaru scowls, pink dusting his cheeks. “Shut up,” he says. “You know what I mean. I get the idiot brigade.” He tips his head in the vague direction the host club had dragged Kaoru. “But you usually don’t go for the caring angle. Unless it’s one of the ladies.” The pink deepens to a rosy hue.
“You think I don’t care?”
“That’s not what I said!”
Amusement tugs at Kyouya’s lips, though he smooths it over before Hikaru can catch a glimpse of it. He closes his laptop, folding his hands over it, giving Hikaru his full attention.
“You’re right,” he concedes. “This is not my usual… thing.” Hikaru rolls his eyes at Kyouya’s blatant quote. “I am going to tell you something, and I know it may come as a surprise, but please restrain yourself. I trust it will not leave this room.”
Now Hikaru smirks, and there’s a light of devilish energy in his eyes. “Ooo. A secret?” He squirms in the bed like he’s trying to sit up, but the contraptions holding him in place prevent it. “Spill.”
Kyouya smiles, slow and with a devilish energy of his own. He leans forward, and Hikaru looks at him eagerly.
“I do actually care,” Kyouya says. “And this is my way of showing it.”
“That’s not a secret!” Hikaru growls, flushing with irritation as he flops back against the bed. He winces then, disturbing some bruise, but while Kaoru might be up in a flutter to make sure he’s all right, Kyouya knows better.
He opens his laptop to return to his calculations. Hikaru is and will be fine.
“You’re an ass,” Hikaru says.
“You should get some sleep before the so-called idiot brigade returns,” Kyouya says to his spreadsheet. “You’re getting discharged in a week, and you know when you do, there’ll be no peace.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Hikaru grumbles, and the television clicks on, quiet enough it doesn’t bother Kyouya, but loud enough Hikaru can hear it.
A full five minutes passes before Hikaru says, grudgingly, “Thanks,” and Kyoua smiles, politely pretending he hadn’t heard it.
There’s no place like home.
Even though he’s still wrapped up in a cast and has a team of skilled nurses round the clock to see to his every need, he’s not stuck in the hospital anymore, which means Kaoru isn’t going to try to cling to him like saran wrap.
Or at least, that’s Hikaru’s hope. It’s not so true in reality.
Kaoru abandons his own room and moves into Hikaru’s, guilt evident in the way he hovers, even though it’s not his fault the car hit Hikaru. He keeps saying how he should’ve been there, and it’s enough to drive Hikaru nuts. He’s given up trying to convince Kaoru otherwise, though the fervent promises are a little worrying.
“I’m never going to leave your side again,” Kaoru insists.
Hikaru sighs and rolls his eyes and repeats, for the umpteenth time, “We can’t live our lives attached at the hips. Haven’t you been trying to tell me that?”
“It’s different now,” Kaoru says, jaw set stubbornly.
“Yeah. Because we have friends now,” HIkaru says, and pokes Kaoru in the ribs. “Go hang out with Kyouya-senpai or something. I need some space to breathe, Kaoru.”
Only that is apparently the wrong thing to say because Kaoru’s eyes get big and watery. Hikaru remembers a bit too late that spending time with Kyouya is exactly what Kaoru had been doing when Hikaru got hurt.
Stupid.
“Try calling Hunny-senpai,” Hikaru says, in a rush. “Or Tamaki-senpai. You know he could use a distraction. Show him your pretty face.”
Kaoru sets his jaw. “No,” he says, and flops down beside Hikaru, picking up the second controller from their paused game. “Best ten out of thirteen?”
Hikaru sighs. “Fine.”
Hikaru loves his twin. Given any other situation, he’d probably celebrate missing school and spending time at home, sitting on his ass playing video games and not doing much. If he had the freedom to move as he pleased, it wouldn’t be so bad.
If Kaoru wasn’t clinging to him like a leech, radiating enough heavy guilt for it to seep into Hikaru by proxy. It’s driving Hikaru crazy, and all he wants is some peace and quiet. It almost makes him long for the hospital, when Kyouya could back him up, kick everyone out, and they’d just sit together in companionable quiet.
It’s weird. Hikaru didn’t think there’d ever come a day when the person he misses the most is Kyouya, but here he is, wishing it was the Shadow King beside him, rather than the clinging octopus who is his twin.
So when Hikaru pulls himself out of the bed, into the wheelchair, and wheels himself out of the room -- all without an exhausted Kaoru noticing -- it’s not Haruhi he calls when he sits near the window in the darkened hallway. It’s Kyouya.
Kyouya who picks up on the first ring, like he’s been holding his phone and waiting for someone to call. “What’s wrong?” he says.
“Nothing,” Hikaru says in a rush, because of course Kyouya would be worried. “It’s just… Kaoru is driving me crazy, and I wanted to talk to someone else.”
“And you called me?” Kyouya sounds more amused than annoyed, and in the background, Hikaru can hear the familiar click-click-click of him working on his computer. The damn thing is attached to his fingers.
“It’s two in the morning, why are you awake?” Hikaru asks, frowning.
Kyouya chuckles, and it actually sounds genuine. It’s kind of nice. “I should be asking you the same question,” he says. “I find that working when everyone else is asleep means I actually get things done.”
“Yeah. Night time is the only time no one hovers,” Hikaru says. He swivels the wheelchair around so he can look out the window. It’s too cloudy for him to see any stars though.
Figures.
“And Kaoru’s in my bed! He hasn’t gotten out of my bed since I came home,” Hikaru grumbles. “My physical therapy starts next week and he’s already promised he’s going to be right by my side the whole time, cheering me on, and ugh. That’s not the reassurance he thinks it is.”
There’s a pause in the rhythmic clicking. “Your physical therapist is employed by the Ootoris.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Hikaru sighs.
“By that I mean, I can ensure your appointments are attended only by whom you’d like to have attend them,” Kyouya says, and the typing starts again. “I can arrange for Kaoru to be otherwise occupied. Though I’d still suggest you bring someone for support.”
“Why not you?” Hikaru asks, the question popping out before he realizes what a stupid idea it is. He doesn’t know why he asked.
Kyouya has far better things to do than sit by Hikaru’s side and babysit--
“I have the time if you’d like,” Kyouya says, cutting off Hikaru’s internal run-on sentences. “I can make room in my schedule. I’ll find out your appointment times.”
“I… thanks,” Hikaru says, stunned.
Kyouya makes a non-committal noise. “Go back to bed, Hikaru. Invalids need all the rest they can get.”
Hikaru laughs. “That sounds more like the Kyouya-senpai I know. Don’t stay up too late or you’ll get wrinkles.”
Kyouya chuckles until Hikaru hangs up on him. He’s left smiling at his cell like an idiot, so he tucks it away and wheels himself back to his room.
“But I’m his brother!” Kaoru argues, trying to move past Kyouya, but a wall of Ootori security refuse to let him pass. It might be overkill, but Kyouya had made a promise, and he always keeps his promises.
“This is a trial Hikaru wants to take on his own, Kaoru,” Kyouya says from behind a clipboard, making a few notations while he waits for the physical therapist to let him know Hikaru is ready.
Kaoru sets his jaw and looks for all the world as if he’s going to stomp his foot. “This is my house. You can’t do this.”
Kyouya’s phone beeps, which is his cue. “We’ll be out in an hour,” he says. “Why don’t you go see if you can find something for Hunny-senpai in the kitchen? He’s wasting away over there.”
Over there being the huddle of host club students watching the drama eagerly. Haruhi is the only one indifferent, bored even, as though she can’t remember why she’s here except that Tamaki likely pulled her in his wake. Mori is trying to corral both Hunny and Tamaki, and having limited success. Kyouya does not envy him the effort.
Kaoru's bottom lip trembles. "Why do you care?"
Kyouya tucks his laptop under his arm and adjusts his glasses. "We'll be done in an hour, and then you can fuss to your heart's content," he says, and slips through the wall of Ootori security, ignoring Kaoru's indignant growl behind him.
Why does he care indeed?
Kyouya knows he is something of a wall to his friends, a spot of cold in their warmth, because he does not outwardly display his affection like the others. But to ask why he cares is the same as accusing him of not caring in the first place.
Kaoru can't help it; Kyouya is aware of this. Kaoru suffers from an overabundance of guilt and worry, and he's overcompensating for it in the worst possible ways. It's no wonder Hikaru is looking to others for support, looking to someone like Kyouya, who is practical without being noisy about it.
Hikaru, miracle of miracles, has somehow managed to become less irritating by his circumstances. At least Kaoru's nannying has given Hikaru something else to fret over, rather than his currently diminished physical state.
"You're late," Hikaru says when Kyouya steps into the large sun room which has been converted for use in Hikaru's rehabilitation. "Let me guess: Kaoru?"
"You two only have yourselves to blame for your co-dependency issues." Kyouya takes a seat, close enough to offer support but not get in the way.
Hikaru snorts, but he doesn't refute Kyouya's statement. "And here I thought you liked him more."
"What would give you that impression?" Kyouya asks.
Hikaru's wheelchair squeaks as he shifts his weight. He doesn't answer, instead flashing one of his patent smiles up at his physical therapist though it doesn't hide the stain of pink in his cheeks. "We can get started now."
The blush is not feigned. It's a different shade than the act he and Hikaru put on for their patrons. And it is adorable for it's honesty.
Kyouya blinks as the observation flashes quicksilver through his thoughts. Adorable? Hikaru? Surely he's not falling for the same drivel the Hitachiin fans shell out money for, hand over fist? There's nothing adorable about the loud-mouthed, cocky brat.
Nothing except that confident smirk he tosses Kyouya before he rises on shaky limbs and takes one coltish step with the physical therapist's help.
Kyoua's heart thuds louder in his chest.
Oh.
~
A month.
It’s been a month of grueling, sweaty, painful physical therapy, where Kaoru complains because he’s not allowed to be there, and Kyouya hasn’t missed a session. Not even once.
Most of the time he sits in a corner and works, the constant staccato of his fingers over the keys more reassuring than words. Occasionally, he gets up and wonders closer, hands slung in his pockets, watching as Hikaru grunts and pulls himself through the rigorous stretches and exercises while his physical therapist encourages him.
He doesn’t say much. Which is good, because Hikaru doesn’t want him to talk. Kaoru talks more than enough, that the blissful silence when Kyouya is around starts to become something Hikaru craves.
A month of Kyouya coming to his physical therapy, and no less than a dozen after-midnight phone calls, where Hikaru rolls himself into a quiet hallway, and Kyouya always picks up by the end of the first ring.
A dozen midnight phone calls talking about nothing and everything, full of Hikaru’s muffled laughter and Kyouya’s quiet chuckles, and Hikaru rolling back to bed feeling better than when he’d clawed his way out of it and Kaoru’s guilty octopus grip.
A month and now Kyouya stands on the other side of a pair of raised rails. Hikaru is supposed to walk all the way to the end of it, because his physical therapist told him he couldn’t do it, and Hikaru loves proving people wrong.
“It’s too early,” she’d said. “You need to work on your strength first.”
Hikaru had scoffed, waited until she left, and then said, “All right, Kyouya. Help me up.”
And Kyouya had.
He’d gotten Hikaru up on his feet, braced him while he gripped the rails, got his feet beneath him, stood firm and ready. Then he’d moved to the other end, challenge in the glint of his glasses.
“Don’t blame me if you fall on your ass,” he’d said.
“I won’t,” Hikaru had boasted.
“We’ll see,” Kyouya had challenged.
After the first shaky step, Hikaru realizes he might have overestimated himself a tad.
“What do I get when I make it?” Hikaru asks, taking another wobbly step forward, his hands braced on the bars.
Kyouya cocks an eyebrow at him. “If you make it, you’ll find out.”
“Fuck you, I’ll make it,” Hikaru growls. He pulls himself forward, again and again. His arms shake, sweat beads down his back, and his hair clings to his forehead.
Kyouya doesn’t encourage him. It’s not his style. He just stands there at the end, arms crossed, one eyebrow cocked, and his stare is a challenge one Hikaru intends to meet.
One foot in front of the other. One aching foot in front of the other. Stupid accident. Stupid car. Stupid doctor telling him he’ll always have a limp. It’s not going to happen. Hikaru’s too stubborn. He’s going to walk. He’s going to dance. He’s going to--
He’s going to make it across this floor, and get his reward from Kyouya, that’s what he’s going to do.
Hikaru’s arms ache. One foot moves slowly, but the other drags, the one he’d fractured. It doesn’t want to bear his weight, but he makes it do it anyway. He mutters under his breath, swears he can hear Kaoru telling him he doesn’t have to do it, he can sit and rest, it’s okay.
Well, fuck you, too.
Hikaru can do it.
See? Kyouya is right there. Watching him. Believing him. All without saying a word.
Just one.
More.
Step.
Hikaru lunges at the last second, grinning his glee, and surprising Kyouya who doesn’t know quite what to do with the sudden surge of Hitachiin except to catch him. Hikaru is a damp, panting mess, but he looks up at Kyouya and gasps,
“I did it. What’s my prize?”
Kyouya blinks down at him, his arms firm around Hikaru’s torso. “What…” he pauses, and for the first time since they’ve met, Hikaru sees him rattled. “What would you like?”
“You mean you don’t already know?” Hikaru tries to laugh it off, but for some reason, it’s hard to catch his breath. Kyouya smells really good. He should pull away.
Shouldn’t he?
He looks up, and Kyouya looks back at him. Hikaru thinks about all those stupid romance novels Kaoru reads when he thinks no one is watching, and if there was a perfect moment that would fit in one of those novels, this would be it.
So he’s not surprised when Kyouya kisses him.
Hikaru’s more surprised by how eagerly he kisses back, his fingers twisting in Kyouya’s shirt, rumbling the iron-pressed fabric. He’s coated in sweat, and his legs wobble, but Kyouya’s holding him up easily enough, despite Hikaru’s growth spurt that matches them inch for inch now.
Kyouya’s mouth is warm and wet against his, but the kiss is awkward. Hikaru’s knees threaten to give way, and he only ends the kiss because it would be really ridiculous if he, you know, fell down.
“I think I need to sit,” Hikaru says.
“Oh,” Kyouya says, and there it is again, that rare flustered look, a blush of red across the top of his cheeks.
“My leg hurts,” Hikaru says, and sags even more in Kyouya’s arms. Only then does Kyouya stir into action, helping Hikaru hobble to a nearby bench and collapse onto the padded surface with a relieved sigh.
A long, awkward silence settles between them. Kyouya clears his throat a couple times. Hikaru chugs a bottle of water, swearing he can feel the phantom sensation of Kyouya’s lips on his.
“So…” Hikaru says as the sweat turns his shirt wet and clammy, “That just my prize for making it to the end or…?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kyouya says, and folds one arm, pushing up his glasses with the tip of a finger from his other hand. “Clearly, we have an affection for one another.”
“Clearly,” Hikaru drawls. “What happens next?”
“Hm.”
Hikaru turns, achingly slow because man, he might have overworked himself today, and pokes Kyouya in the shoulder. “I can hear those equations clicking away.”
“Strangely enough, I can’t seem to calculate a thing.” Kyouya looks at him, head tilted, his lips a moue of perplexed irritation. “All I can think about is kissing you again.”
Hikaru grins. “There’s a simple answer to that, senpai. Just do it.”
Kyouya adjusts his glasses, which he usually does when he’s trying to regain the upper hand or show off how superior he is. “You are infuriating. I don’t know why-- mmph.”
Mmph is the only suitable answer in Hikaru’s opinion, because if Kyouya can surprise him with a kiss, then Hikaru can do it, too. Especially when he gets a double fistful of Kyouya’s shirt and yanks him into it, knocking those glasses askew. And because Hikaru is full of daring today, he flicks his tongue against the seam of Kyouya’s lips, and tastes green tea when Kyouya opens for him. Melts into the kiss just a little.
“Fine,” Kyouya says, his breath puffing over Hikaru’s lips. “I admit I’m fond of you.”
Hikaru chuckles. “That’s a good answer.” He smooths his hands over Kyouya’s shirt, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. “Does that mean I should call you my boyfriend now?”
Kyouya bats Hikaru’s hands away, fixing his glasses as he stands. “Come on,” he says, before Hikaru can start feeling the tiniest bit abandoned. “You need a shower.”
“Are you joining me in it?” Hikaru asks, waggling his eyebrows.
Kyouya sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What am I getting into?”
Hikaru lurches to his feet, clinging onto Kyouya to keep his balance. Kyouya could’ve sidestepped, let HIkaru faceplant, but he steadies Hikaru instead.
Awww. He really is fond.
“I admit I’m fond of you, too,” Hikaru says, perfectly imitating Kyouya’s tone purely because he knows it will annoy the Shadow King. “Kiss me again? Otherwise, I’m going to think this is one weird fever dream.”
Kyouya rolls his eyes, but cups Hikaru’s face and pulls him in for another kiss, this one gentler and sweeter than before. There’s no bumping of teeth, no bruised lips, no muffled surprise. His thumb sweeps Hikaru’s cheek, and it’s so sweet it makes HIkaru’s teeth ache and his heart go pitter-patter.
Guh.
He’s totally gone for Kyouya, isn’t he?
Kaoru’s never going to let him live this down.
