Inspired by album of Carlos Santana (after hours of finding it and listening in my dad's car) Anyone a fan of Carlos Santana? I am! If you haven't heard of Carlos Santana, and you're a hard-rock fan...shame on you! And this ties to the song 'All That I Am' i think...it's pretty good song. And…expect OOC, sorry…and its angst haha! (okay, sorry, I sound morbid there.)
Summary: Sometimes, Fairy Tales become realities, but sometimes the 'happily ever after' becomes fantasies. KyouHaru
It was not your usual fantasy of rich boy met poor girl. Girl met (and) or bumps on boy. Boy charmed girl, or girl charmed boy. It was not a part taken lightly from both sides, where a typical standard of falling in love would be considered in its category.
Childhood memoirs play its part, but not so typical either.
She's a first grade genius. A scholar, youngest in her class, in the prime of her youth—a commoner amongst well-bred people.
She broke his $500 pen. A treasured gift given to him by his father.
She apologized. He retaliated by submitting her to after-school 'cleaning' activities.
Five years later, sixth grade. She accidentally elbowed his $5,000 platinum-rimmed glasses, when she was passing out papers.
He did not look happy.
That whole year, she was subjected to pay her own extra-curricular classes which left her using her lunch and breakfast allowances due to paying books and supplies.
Another five years of burden came at an early graduation. One of the valedictorians at an early age of sixteen, with a promising future, and scholarships for prestigious universities.
She and him entered the stage.
One exuding grace, power, and fear.
The other heaving a sigh of relief.
Relieved from the pressures of rich society. Relieved from an early leave of high school life. Relieved from…
Face front, impassive face, and beautiful onyx eyes stared ahead behind mystic glasses and refined façade.
Not once they've ever spoken to each other without reason, except when she had irked him and had to apologize, and he would give her a cold look and a non-committal "Hn."
She was momentarily bemused. "Um. Thanks. You too."
A moment of silence.
The cacophony of the graduation faded from their ears, as both were lost in their own thoughts, mulling each other's feelings.
"Why are you here?" The smooth, cold sting of his voice whispered through the abating noise, as the crowds silenced to give respect to the graduates.
"Huh?" perplexed eyes turned on him. She thought she heard him chuckle.
"A commoner amongst rich," he tipped his head arrogantly, still staring ahead, as if he would waste his time by looking at her-the same way as he was disgusted to talk to her.
"It is unheard of."
Many times she heard of this. Many times she ignored. Unfazed, unashamed and indifferent, she focused her full eyes on him. The school founder, and principal giving speeches for the graduates and audiences in its resplendent grandeur.
She scanned the crowds seated regally in the velvet chairs of the massive auditorium. Splashes of golds, platinums, silvers, diamonds, beautiful suits, dresses and fake smiles plastered in everyone's faces. Looking deeply behind the riches and glory, they were all naked, vulnerable, fragile, and human.
"We're all the same."
At that moment she heard him lightly chuckle. It was quite unnerving given the fact that his 'laughs' were usually reserved for his more… sinister motives.
This time he peeled his eyes away from the crowd—and she thought he descended from his pedestal, and graced her with his 'human' presence.
"No. You are out of our league."
And just as quickly ruined the illusion.
A bastard? Very much so.
In the background, crowds cheered, a spotlight flashed on him. Ready smiles, claps, whistles, and praises showered his every step.
But this was not a love story. This was not where a prince was in a shining armor, and a damsel in distress.
It was the society of the real world.
Kyouya Ootori. A name not to be forgotten, revered, and illustrious.
And a name that she—Haruhi Fujioka, will prove wrong.
That very instant, in a fabricated tale of time she remembered.
Remembered the truth that set them apart.
"Yes, I got that file done…No, no. Izumi could we not talk about…will you—(sigh)…Yes, I'm listening…Uh-you like to go to a dinner and a movie?…Yes, I know I'm not listening and frankly I don't care. Look, I'll see you later. No, no, —bye Izumi." Click.
Six years down the road with a masters and license as a lawyer walked amongst the bustle of Tokyo. A respected and responsible woman at the prime age of twenty-one.
Haruhi glared at her phone and quickly set it on vibrate. She loved her secretary. Seven years older than her, bubbly, energetic, and her unfortunate philanthropist.
Izumi Chiiro was her romantic advocate (whether she liked it or not.) She loved Valentines Day, had a fetish affinity for all pink colors, and an almost scary obsession for red roses.
She was not the ideal secretary for a busy lawyer. When Haruhi first saw her in an interview…Izumi practically glomped her and began to call Haruhi 'kawaii-chan.'
She was ready to give her resume a 'Denied' stamp…and call other offices to warn others of the 'crazy-mauling' woman. Though in that time she had no choice, as she was new in the branch office as well.
Izumi's work proved to be quite impressive. She organized all her files and schedules and (irritatingly) made sure to eat her breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Taking her job too far in a creepy level, but Haruhi shook it off and learned her ways.
The only set back was that she virtually had complete control over her calls, so it was no surprise that sometimes she gets calls from her last weeks' clients,' brothers,' nephew.
…To say it was frustrating was an understatement. Izumi does have great motives for her love life, but setting her up from to her clients,' brothers,' nephew was ridiculous.
Sometimes she imagined ringing her little neck and tightening her scarf until her eyes popped out.
'I should fire her.' Haruhi thought glumly and stopped at the blinking red light, as she tightened her long-sleeved cotton coat. Fall was beginning and it was becoming extremely cold, promising a harsh winter season.
Today she was to meet her client at a very classy restaurant. Not that she minded, but it was still unnerving to her. Why would rich people want meetings such as this? And most of all, why would they want her as their lawyer?
Sure, she won almost every cases, highly recommended and well paid, but it wasn't enough to catch the eye of a prosperous businessman and present her as a lawyer. Besides, she was content with helping low-income people and defending them in court.
As the light turned green, and the walk sign blared Haruhi quickly—'What the hell…'
A black sleek car parked right in front of her. Black tinted windows rolled out, and met a pair of dark sunglasses.
She narrowed her eyes.
The man lowered his glasses peering from her with green mischievous eyes. "I am here to pick you up from your appointment with Seiiru-sama concerning court cases."
Haruhi didn't budge, her lips thinned, as the man sighed. He plucked out a card from his suit pocket and presented her the exalted card of the family name emblazoned across the card.
She looked up at him, and nodded.
She'd never met this 'Seiiru-sama,' man, but for all she knew he was no doubt owner of a secret wealthy facility all over the world…and an arrogant git, for sure.
The limousine rolled to a stop and Haruhi caught a glimpse of a large fountain, huge glassed-windows, tinted black. Ensuring a rich peoples' privacy thing. Haruhi slightly cringed. Not that she hated working for the rich. Really, it pays good money, and doubles her salary from what she gets in six months. But she never liked her first encounters with them.
They made her feel stupid, when they were the ones who didn't know what an alibi meant.
The green-eyed driver opened the door for her before she got the chance, and took hold of her hand like a gentleman.
"Right this way Fujioka-san."
"Um, thanks." Haruhi withdrew her hand, just as she caught a light smile from him.
'I should really fire Izumi.' Haruhi thought for the second time that day, blaming her secretary for all indecencies of her life. She was not that "Holy shit what a hottie!" kind of deal.
She had cut her hair a long time ago since high school and preferred to forget the endurance she went through with the presence of luxurious people left and right. Her hair was just touching her shoulders, and long bangs covering her face, which sometimes she had to blow on it when it gets on her face.
She considered cutting it again, because when Izumi caught her with the 'hair-blowing-act' she literally jumped her and spilled her coffee all over her files, all the while screaming 'Kawaii!!' And gushing all over her like a rabid dog on steroids.
It was no wonder how she and her dad get along well, and how both of them, sometimes, (conspicuously) bought her bunny dresses for her birthday. It was also no wonder why people thought she was the 'mother' to the two adults.
The man led her to the large entryway, obviously costing thousands of money.
'All this for a hallway…' Haruhi thought rich people couldn't get anymore wasteful.
She studied the black-marbled like glass where water cascaded smoothly, a small pond in which it was decorated as a lion's mouth. The lights were dim, and casting shadows and silhouettes around her.
Haruhi suddenly felt small…and cold. She turned, "Um…"
'Lovely, just lovely.'
The guard was gone, leaving her here in some kind of beautifully decorated chamber of doom. She almost figured a man with a chainsaw coming out of the fountain, ready to shred her to pieces.
As if on cue.
The fountain suddenly moved and parted. The lion's mouth contorted into steps, the water divided into a light mist, giving its passageway.
Haruhi's posture was calm, but her heart was beating miles per minute. 'Guess I'd be meeting mother sooner than expected.'
'Okay…' Haruhi peered, and curiously took one step…
The lion-figure-turned-steps suddenly moved, manipulating her into moving away and in the passageway, revolving her around to a next 'torture chamber.'
Haruhi clutched her collar tightly, steadying her heartbeat. 'That's it! No more accepting rich peoples' cases!'
She backed away, her mind quickly clicking together for an escape route and—
"I never thought you to be a person who curse, Fujioka-san."
The familiarity of the clipped tones, the smooth, deep voice and a stinging barb of the way her name was pronounced.
It was unmistakable.
Haruhi was praying to all known deities that this was not happening. Pleading that she'd change ways if this were all just her dream, an imagination made by her stressed out mind, and decided a fantasy or two about her nightmare would be a good escape. She swore that she would give Izumi a raise, buy her fathers' gown for his birthday, sleep regularly, feed her cat, and remind herself not to become too harsh on her rivals.
She'd do everything to repent to whatever bit her back in the ass.
But most of all, why the hell didn't she check her clients' files? She didn't remember him, having 'Seiiru' for a last name.
"Does the fountain interest you Fujioka-san?" There was amusement evident in his voice that Haruhi would gladly tear out his tongue from his pharynx.
'Oh yes, I found this lion-figure-turning-into-steps quite clever, bet it cost a stick jammed up your ass to buy it huh?" She bit her tongue from the edited retort in her mind, and inhaled, calming her frazzled nerves. Steeling herself and turning her posture, facing her nightmare personified.
Haruhi mustered a firm greeting of her client. Observing the perfect lines of his face, irrevocably handsome. A stark contrast against the dim setting, high cheekbones, raven hair and bangs shielding behind mysterious onyx orbs, regarded her coolly.
Onyx eyes without glasses.
As much as it shocked her, there was no denying that grown up, Kyouya Ootori had every woman falling at his feet, but without glasses…made him simply irresistible.
'Rewards of being rich…If he was a girl, no doubt he'd have a boob job.' Haruhi thought cynically.
The renowned Shadow King smirked, and gestured for a sit in front of the large marbled desk in front of him. It was quite an amusing sight to see…a high-school 'acquaintance' of his after so long. He quickly assessed her thoughts as she openly gaped at him.
"I assure you, if I were born a woman I would have a natural effeminate curves of one."
Haruhi restrained herself from doing a childish action, which involves giving him her highly appraised middle finger. She swore, the man was a weapon of mass destruction, mainly to read the minds of political rivals and ruin them before they got the chance that this sinfully handsome man had…
"I would assume that you know what you are here for." A demand of question broke her ridiculous line of thought.
"Yes. A simple divorce from Katsumi Jiero, daughter of Shunan Jiero Companies and stockholders of one of the largest electronic corporations in the world."
"Glad you did your homework."
"It says so in your file."
A cold breeze was blowing from out of nowhere, and the room was suddenly thirty degrees colder.
Haruhi coughed, uncomfortable from the silence. "It seems that your other…resources had taken care of the specifics regarding possessions of your divorce. My best advice would be to—"
"Wait for responses concerning of her other requests, and we can move from there." Kyouya finished for her fluidly, his eyes boring into her.
"Glad you did your homework." Haruhi mocked.
He had certainly taken care of everything, but why the hell did he call her? To rub it in her face that he had better lawyers? That they were paid well? That they were capable of things better than her?
Haruhi clenched her fist and stood to leave. If the man wanted to sick amusement from his 'lower than thou' vassals, then he could play with them. She was wasting her time here.
"I did not call you as a representative of my case."
"Then I guess a low-commoner lawyer like I am are not suited for your high-tastes. Next time, don't look in the yellow-pages book." Haruhi pivoted and pushed her chair back, giving a stiff bow, resolute in leaving, even if she had to walk miles to get away from the oppressive aura the Shadow King was pressuring her with.
"I called you for a proposition, Fujioka-san."
"I'm sure my advisors would love that. Now, if you excuse me…"
"This only concerns you."
"I am not interested." Haruhi swiftly cut in, meaning to get over this fruitless meeting, as she turned her back on him, putting a foot over the 'lion-pond-turned steps.'
"Then I guess you are not interested in your fathers' health as well."
Back rigid, as all the color in her face faded, her eyes widened in confusion. With a swift turn of her head that she swore a muscle had knick under pressure.
"What did you say…?"
He now had her full attention. The Shadow King leaned back in his cushion leather chair, pinning her with some sort of boredom and annoyance to repeat his words.
"I thought a daughter must always take care of their father. Are you not aware of his deteriorating health?"
Haruhi's face scrunched in memory, worrying her lip as she went back to the time she last saw her father, which was, unfortunately, two months ago.
"Two weeks ago, he fainted in the streets, and suffered cardiac arrest. After that, he experienced dizziness, headaches and cold fevers. In a month he was sent to a clinic, not wanting to alert you of his health. They gave him useless pills, that did nothing to improve his sickness."
Haruhi clenched her teeth as Kyouya listed her father's ailments as if reading off a menu. Her bangs shielding her face.
"Congestive Heart Failures are lethal if not quickly taken care of." Kyouya paused as he heard a half choke from her lips. "Your father doesn't have a chance."
"Why do you know so much of this?" Haruhi's voice was cold, soft and dangerous. "What do you want from me…?"
Kyouya stood languidly, brushing past his desk, and sauntering over Haruhi's slumped form.
Towering over her, Kyouya took a lock of her hair, brushing bangs away from her shielded eyes. "I can help him, Haruhi."
Haruhi violently shied away from him, his cold touch, and the foreboding aura surrounding them. She knew something more would come out of this. Ootoris' were not known for their charities, given if it would make them seem generous, and a 'role model' of the country.
It always came with a price.
"Bribe someone else Ootori-san. I can support my father of whatever he needs." She kept the tears at bay. She would never see her cry. Never.
"Not, if he needs a heart."
Haruhi's world stopped.
Her resolved cracking pathways, like a mirror splitting under pressure. Her breaths came in almost jagged pants, as she put a hand over her head. Her father was all she had, the only family, the only blood, and the only thing keeping her from the monsters' of this world.
And this time, Haruhi knew…she was still a child.
"He would be dead long before they'd find a suitable match for his heart, and even longer when you are at the bottom of the list."
Haruhi shook her head, trying to regain control of the realization currently presented. It was ironic to think that in a day everything was moving and passing around her fluently. But this was too sudden. It was difficult. Her reason was going against it.
For the second time in their whole lives, Haruhi equally met Kyouya Ootori's gaze. Foolishly believing that he had come down as a 'human,' but just as cruelly ascended away from her.
"You cannot afford it, Fujioka-san. Not with your job, or anything of this world."
Humor was no longer part of the story, as everything went downhill from there.
Business is business, and it had just begun.
And once again, the gap of their worlds drifted ever apart.
Inside her, a slipped of her being shattered.
She knew that she failed to prove him wrong…again.
It was just as expected.
A forceful union was never lasting.
For the price she paid were her dreams, childish hopes…and even that flicker of girlish fantasies that she'd fall with the man of her dreams, and not standing in front of the aisle with the least person she'd ever expect to marry.
And just as it was expected, he was true to his word.
He saved her father, literally given him a 'heart of life.' Putting her fathers' name on top of the list for heart surgery.
To top it off, Ranka-san readily agreed to her 'engagement-to-the-handsome-filthy-rich-young-man,' sealing her fate with a devil's smile, and second motion from Izumi.
She still hadn't fired her for it.
She was a tool used.
Kyouya's father wanted him to marry. He did.
But Kyouya's father also wanted him to have an heir… he hadn't.
Katsumi Jiero was incapable. Infertile. Useless.
And what better human sacrifice was served when she was at her most vulnerable.
But she knew better.
The Ootoris' hated her with passion. The only one seeming impassive of her status was him, and his father.
They both thought it was beneficial. They did not need another money-grubbing company to leech off the Ootori empire. She was the perfect pawn. And she was to act the perfect wife.
The baffling thing was…Kyouya Ootori never touched her.
Not once did they shared a bed, only when it was their first day of honeymoon, and even then both their backs are turned from each other.
Haruhi thought he was gay. She was sure of it.
He insisted that she did not need to work, but she refused. He may take everything except her devotion to help people through her work...and also to avoid him at all cost.
Six months of them living as 'husband and wife,' was a total bore, but Haruhi was glad. She'd cut her self long before she'd produce a child with him.
Him who had played with her life, and cared nothing but himself. Him who thought she was easy with a wave of an ootoro. Okay, maybe the latter was touching the truth, but—
But that perspective changed…drastically.
It was dark, pouring rain, and worse of all…lightning and thunder shook Haruhi to the very core. Her ears clamped shut, as her hand turned ghostly white fisted over her ears. Sitting in a curled position inside her walk in closet. She was beyond terrified. The lights coming from the doorway did not help to seal the flashes of light signaling a loud booming from the sky.
She curled even tighter, assuaging her self by rocking back and forth. She felt cold under her cotton pajamas and long-sleeved shirt. She never used any of the stuff he provided for her. She felt uncomfortable with the silk pants or nightgowns. She never wore anything of luxury, only when it was truly necessary.
She didn't like it.
Another booming sound forced her to cower deeper, as every breath became hard and she could feel the sting of tears in her eyes, as she bit her lip from crying out and shutting herself out.
It was one of the only ways she could calm herself. Pain helps her to calm down, to forget…
"Haruhi! Get down!"
The truck was going on full force, the driver asleep. Lightning illuminated the oncoming truck. Kotoko Fujioka lost control over the car, as the rain made the road slippery, and took a wrong turn. The brakes were not working, the massive truck looming ahead.
Kyoko took off her seat belt, jumping towards the back seat, shielding her only daughter from impact.
"I love you baby."
"No!" Haruhi opened her eyes in mortification. The whole accident so vivid, clear, and painfully excruciating to a point that her heart burst, her whole body numbed in fright.
That was when she also became acutely aware of two strong arms holding her down. Warm breath mingling with her own rushed breaths, her hair matted together, fist clenched around the person who began to rub soothing circles behind her back.
She blinked. Her whole body tensed as he situated her on his lap, cradling her head, as his other hand stroke her hair.
Another strike of thunder boomed from afar. She clutched onto him vehemently, shutting her eyes, and unknowingly pressing herself tightly onto him.
He didn't say a word to her. He didn't mock her in her moment of weakness, as he usually does. Kyouya simply soothed her, brushing away a few stray bangs, sighing in her hair, and running his smooth fingers down her scalp.
The harsh sounds of rain and thunder faded, and Haruhi was then reminded again of the time so long ago during graduation. It was just him and her.
In a moment of sleepiness, Haruhi wondered, she questioned. "Why?"
His eyes were calm, almost warm. A huge difference from the raging world outside. In hues and shades of melted gray, a flicker of emotion shot out but not long before Haruhi figured what it meant, as he retorted back to answer her evenly.
It was a dream, and she knew it.
A wonderful dream that it was too good to be true, but when she woke up in bed, she could smell his scent on her. And for that…their worlds turned.
An unattainable dream, which felt surreal.
At that moment, their worlds seemed to move together.
Little by little, day by day.
As if by some sort of miracle, that brought them together that night.
A glimpse of understanding.
He went out with her. Catered to her, showered her with luxury she obviously didn't want and need, but he insisted anyways. He invited her to corporate parties. Defended her from people insulting her (which sometimes include a 'mysterious' lost of certain companies).
And most importantly, they were happy. Like every normal married man and woman should be, as awkward it may seem at times. One time he had given her a simple platinum ring, she asked why.
"Because I never had properly thanked you."
But moments like that didn't last. Haruhi knew, Kyouya knew.
She was doubtful.
He was apprehensive.
Feelings were a dangerous territory. Love was unknown where pride was concerned.
And it was no surprise when she found him cheating on her on the night of their fourth wedding anniversary, on their bed. Ironic how it was a night that she—Haruhi Fujioka, had decided to give him an heir.
Very ironic, indeed.
But she couldn't blame him.
He was an Ootori after all.
Her husband, her provider, and almost—almost everything she had hoped from a husband.
And worst, or not…Haruhi didn't cry. She never did. Not for him or for herself.
Besides, she already failed to prove him wrong. This was just an aching reminder that she couldn't do anything. Nothing compared to him, to his power, to his beauty and his money.
They moved on with their lives listlessly.
They were back to square one.
They reverted to the shell of their own protected worlds and beliefs.
She busied herself with work. He ignored her.
Kyouya simple brushed past her in their home, often bringing a woman far more beautiful, richer, and graceful than she could ever be…a lowly commoner chained to a life she could never get out of.
It was a stinging reminder, that she could never par up to him, not even his mistresses.
She was non-existent to him. And she to him. Living in the shadows, and preferring to watch, ignoring the silent twangs of her heart each and every time she saw him lead a woman to his room.
She wondered if she was affected by what her father almost cost his life. It was genetic after all. She still ignored it. It was his business. He kept away from her as long as she did the same.
Who said their marriage was born of love anyways?
It was one Sunday morning at the kitchen table that the answer became clear.
"There is a party this Wednesday night. I want you to accompany me." his tone was an order, as he sifted through the newspaper, gracefully seeping his morning black coffee.
Haruhi brushed her bangs off her face. She never had time to get that haircut, five years ago when her life was normal. She still reminisced about those days, when she hoped to fire a bumbling secretary, and ward off her father from buying her scandalous outfits for her birthday.
That life…She would trade it for everything she now had. She would even trade him to get her own life just the way it was.
She tensed as he mentioned another worthless party that was full of snobby people, she didn't want to be a part of. She was tired of it.
"Why don't you go with them? I'm sure they'd love it more than I do." He had influenced her, one way or the other. Her clipped and cold tones were a great similarity with her husband.
"No." he kept his eyes on the newspaper, not bothering to look up at her. "This one requires your presence."
That was when the little tendrils of the cords that were barely holding their world apart… snapped.
"Tell me, Ootori-san."
Haruhi caught Kyouya's attention as soon as she had reverted to calling him by his last name. He lightly frowned, focusing on her form, visibly shaking in despair, or fury, he didn't know.
"Why did you marry me?"
Her tone was soft, almost afraid as she raised her head and looked him in the eye. She wanted more answers from his retort of 'Why not?' More answers from his pathetic excuses that his father needs an heir, when he had clearly slept with every available model, except her.
"We did not marry for love, Fujioka-san."
A cracked snaked its way down her stomach.
"I do not expect you to understand."
A tear was suddenly itching to burst forth, but Haruhi didn't know why.
"This is why I'm marrying Renge."
And the pieces fell apart, split and tattered. Crushed, and simply obliterated.
She couldn't breath. It was the same way he broke the news of her fathers' health to her. She was utterly heartbroken…but this time…this time-
She didn't know why.
Kyouya watched her.
The feeling of regret was not presented in an Ootori bloodline. He made sure that every decision was made with precise calculation that would benefit him, and their family.
To secure wealth and power.
He thought Haruhi had carried herself quite maturely. She took the news well. He was marrying Renge Shino. Daughter of a European royalty, and owner of the largest trading companies in Europe and Africa.
What he didn't expect was when she started to question about divorce papers. He blinked, and raised a supercilious eyebrow.
He had no intention of letting her go.
At the time he said those words to her. Bits of her control snagged.
In blind rage, she had actually slapped him-hard. And came close for a second slap which he had quickly evaded and took her wrist tightly in his hands.
And for once…Kyouya saw tears. She swiped it away, just as fast as she wrenched away from his loosened grip at shock of seeing her cry for the very first time.
Something stirred in him, but it was not long after she dashed away from him, leaving behind a trail of silent tears.
Kyouya didn't care, had convinced himself, and controlled the voice from the back of his head. Refusing to check on her, to apologize…his pride didn't let him.
He was an Ootori, and he apologizes to no one.
More than what Kyouya hated were apologies. He hated to accept that he had wronged her somehow, and his mind kept nagging to comfort her. Comfort her like he did so many months ago when he found her curled up in the corner of her closet like a fragile child.
Vulnerable and weak.
Her question rung in his ears. 'Why did you marry me?'
It was a question that he himself didn't know the answers to. He didn't want to know.
And found himself asking the same question in hopes of finding the answer in its cryptic and twisted order. 'Why did I marry her…?'
He knew it was more than the beneficial fact that she's a commoner, and she couldn't do anything in comparison to his power. She was a plain, simple, mindless commoner. She was not beautiful, not extravagantly dressed, not graceful, merely a…typical woman of the lower society.
Nothing drew him to her…
Or so he told himself.
But the strongest point that drew him to her was…was probably the way she never wavered in his gaze. The way she looked at him.
Every time he looked at her, she stripped him all of his power. Just looking at him without fear or the riches, not even his family name, but simply: Kyouya.
A small, human, exposed, Kyouya.
He hated it.
He was just not Kyouya. It would not do. He is and always will be bearing the family name with honor.
He, basically denied her.
She was not worth it compared to the power of an Ootori. She would bring nothing.
Why else would he marry her?
Just a commoner.
He overlooked her. Slept with other women, wothy of his time and profitable to his assets. Busied himself with work.
Everything that would shield him away from her eyes. Eyes that promise him warmth in the price of everything he worked hard for.
He can't allow. Wouldn't allow it.
But it still never stopped his hands from touching the cold, metal handle leading to her room.
The room was dark, save for the one corner where a large glass paned window was open. The person of his current dilemma sat in the windowsill, disregarding his presence until he sat adjacent to hers.
She curled up on herself by instinct, still refusing to meet his gaze as she stared out the window, drizzles of rain and light breeze stirred the tense atmosphere. It seems like eons of time before she spoke.
"This is my house."
"Then go somewhere else."
Kyouya thought she was being childish. He was actually missing her gaze on him…for no apparent reason. He wanted that secure feeling, selfish, as it seemed. He wanted assurance that there was once a person in this world that looked at him for who he truly is.
"Go bother someone else."
He stayed, rooted and undeterred. This was his house, and he would go wherever he please and talk to whomever he want.
Rain scented breeze lifted her hair, brushing her bangs off as Kyouya watched her. Willing her eyes to meet his.
They stayed deep-seated in the windowsill for hours, figuring out each other's thoughts, mulling their feelings. It was some sort of game. A game of pride, endurance, and strength of will.
A game, both were unwilling to lose to the other.
"This is childish, Haruhi." Kyouya expressed his frustration, running a hand over his hair, and sighing in strangled defeat. He wanted to talk, not brood for hours and ignored by his wife.
This time she turned away from the window, and swung her legs down the floor, but still did not look at him, which bothered Kyouya the most.
Haruhi had decided. She will leave, divorce him, shame his fucking family name for all she cared. She would rather be in a real prison rather than in a mansion full of rich bastards.
A world not of her own.
"And this marriage is bullshit."
She brushed past him harshly, but not before he quickly grasped her wrist, turning her around as she gasped in surprise, unfamiliar yet warm lips crashing down on hers.
She angrily pulled away from him, delivering another hard slap for the second time that day. And delivering cold tones mirroring Kyouya's clipped, mirthless ones. "The divorce papers are on your desk."
A tight gripped whirled her back to him, and Haruhi was seriously contemplating on using her fist this time.
What shocked her the most was that he hugged her. Forcefully (on his part) or not, it was bizarre, unusual. And he sent her back again to the time when she felt secured with him. That she at least felt someone to him, even just a hug that meant nothing, but felt everything to her.
"You're divorcing me."
Haruhi was half-tempted to roll her eyes. "No shit."
"Two slaps and two curses in a day. Time of the month, I see."
It was one of the rare times that both expressed a humor in such an open question in their marriage…and it was in the most inopportune times. During such inopportune times, it was both a surprise for both as they found themselves relaxing in each others' arms.
"That's my question."
Kyouya chuckled, breathing in her scent as he pressed her closer to him. "I asked first."
"You know the answer to that." soft, brusque tones met his query.
"We're getting nowhere, Haruhi." Kyouya sighed, dropping his head on her shoulder, exhaustion seeping from his form.
"Well, you don't have to worry, because I'm getting out of here." Eyes narrowing in the other direction, Haruhi dropped her arms to her sides, trying to shift away from the grip Kyouya had on her.
"Are you sure?" Kyouya gently pressed his lips down her neck, guiding her down to the bed in the corner.
"Don't test me, Kyouya." Haruhi's eyes blazed, her back finding comfort in the silk laden bed.
Melted onyx eyes bore down on her, challenging and mocking as the Shadow King loomed over her, pressing down his lips to her ear.
"You always test me, Fujioka-san, but you never prevailed."
"And the prince killed the evil witch, and saved the princess. They returned to their kingdom with their friends and lived happily ever after."
"Hey mom!" a mischievous grin plastered over a four-year-old boys' figure. "Do you think I could get a princess?"
"No." Hazel eyes gleamed with unknown emotion. "You have to earn her love first."
"Like the prince?" smooth raven hair cocked to the side, brows furrowed in contemplation. The boy bore an uncanny resemblance to someone she wanted to forget. Hiding behind an innocence shielded with an ingenius mind, he was smarter than he let on for his age.
'So much like him...'
The mother smiled, placing the book aside. "You don't have to be a prince."
"Really!? Cool, then I could be like you?" the woman nodded with a grin.
"Alright it's time for you to got bed now," the mother bend over the younger boy, clipping short crop hair over her ear as she bend down for a goodnight kiss, and tucking the boy in.
Pivoting around, a question stopped the woman in her tracks.
"Hey mom! Did you ever have a prince before?"
To the woman, the translation behind the innocent question was painful: 'Do I have a father?'
"I-" turning around the woman slowly made her way back, and sat down her son's bed. "He was not a prince."
"He's not?" onyx eyes widened in bewilderment.
"No, he's a king." 'A Shadow King.'
"Wow…Did he save you?"
"Were their monsters?"
The woman chuckled humorlessly, which went unnoticed by the young child. "Mhm."
But the next question was even more painful.
"Why aren't you two together?"
I wanted to thank you for your generosity for the past four years. As in your terms: it was nice having business with you. I take my leave for the burdens I may have cause. Congratulations to your wedding with Renge-sama, I hope she will fulfill your wishes in which I could not.
You were right. I never had proven you wrong.
And to go one trying would be a fruitless and an unsuccessful attempt on my part.
I apologize for everything.
A slip of paper, barely noticeable and insignificant, a ring was set atop, a pen was left neatly beside it.
All the things he bought were untouched, leaving a trail of luxuries and possessions behind in favor of her meager belongings. Everything was stripped bare, everything that reminded him of her. Even her scent was intangible, her room was a vast blank of nothingness. Everything was wiped clean, no traces of the person who had occupied it were left.
And as it was, the ring between his fingers was the only token of the person who had threw everything back at him. The simple platinum band glinting back at him mockingly. In retort, it was as if he was the one who threw away everything.
A sigh escaped his lips, closing his eyes, trying to escape reality.
And for once in his life, Kyouya Ootori, heir to one of the largest empires in the world felt…empty. He never knew she had the audacity to do such reckless thing, but apparently...
Onyx eyes peered back in fatigue, caressing the band softly in his fingers.
"I test you too far…"
Silence echoed, coldness seeping through. Shadows overcast the room, a sliver of light slipping through the cracks.
"Because…it was not a fairytale, Ryuzu."
( Hides behind Kyouya and Haruhi ) What!? What!? They were the characters, asked them why they had a sucky ending!!! I'm feeling really 'wired-up' right now, and this is a frustration fic (five months in the making -.-), I don't know about sequels (scratches head), I think it ruins the purpose of 'angst' of the story genre. (but maybe, not sure…) But I hope you enjoyed it! Right now, I am stumped on WF soooo sorry about that, but I think I'll work on Dragon Days for the next update, so keep it lock!
Tell me if you want a sequel...-.- (personally i think it's good that way it is)