-1This could be seen as a not-so-funny and very angsty sequel to Thank God For Rumours but can also be read as a stand-alone.

Kyoya swirled the whisky in his glass, the pale amber liquid sloshing gently against the crystal. He wondered idly how many glasses he'd had since the last hour and glanced at the bottle beside him.

The Johnnie Walker Blue he'd ordered thirty minutes ago was already nearly empty.

Kyoya suppressed a snort.

Guess that answers my question.

He was about to pour the last of the bottle's contents and promptly call it a night so he could probably brood in peace and angst about his current situation for the next five seconds before passing out on his floor in an undignified heap (as he was prone to do when he drank too much) when the stool next to him was occupied by someone he never expected to see again.

He must have been staring and gawping at her in shock because when the girl turned to face him after she'd given her order to the bartender, she gave him a huge scowl.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Haruhi drawled irritably, her voice laced with open hostility and alcohol-induced rudeness.

Kyoya gave her a quelling look, amazed and relieved that she didn't recognize him. Who would when the usually impeccable Ootori Kyoya was unfashionably dressed in a sweater three sizes bigger, a pair of baggy jeans, and scuffed sneakers he found collecting dust in the deepest parts of his closet? His hair hasn't been cut for a couple of months now and was ruffled into a mess on his head. He left his glasses somewhere last night after he had crashed ungracefully on his living room couch and was unable to find it ever since.

Kyoya didn't even recognize himself truth be told.

Kyoya stared up at he ceiling, asking why did the heavens hate him so much? Here was the very person he'd been trying to avoid for months now and when he finally felt that he could come to work not looking as if he'd been through hell and back, not to mention smelling like a public restroom, they had to throw them together again.

But first things first. He needed to run away from this place. Yes, with the speed of fucking Flash in his highly effeminate red spandex suit.

"You don't interest me at all," he said shortly, going back to his own drink. He downed the remaining contents of the glass and stood up before things got messy.

"Hm, that's what he told me," Haruhi said lazily, sipping on her brandy with an air of abject desolation. "No, wait, he didn't exactly say that but…" she sighed, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes. "Every time he spoke to me, I felt as if…. As if I'm not really important, you know?"

Kyoya stopped. "And I care what you're saying because?"

Haruhi rolled her eyes. "God, you are just like that damn prick. You both never cared about whatever the hell I say. You know what, men are all the same. You are just selfish bastards, you know?"

"Really? What an interesting theory! That seems so familiar…. Oh, wait, it's the same thing every goddamned feminist that walked this fucking earth has been saying for buggering decades now. Ever heard of originality?" Kyoya wanted to escape. Now.

As he was about to stand up, Haruhi's next words stopped him.

"Yes, I agree. I think that's the only thing I am good at: parroting others." She drank the rest of her alcohol and ordered some more.


"Damn, you even sound just like him. Are you sure you aren't related?"

"How should I know? How about telling me about this damn prick you're moaning about and let's see if he could even come close to my pinky, shall we?"

Haruhi laughed hard, nearly choking on her liquor. "You asshole! That's the kind of thing he would say as well!"

Damn! If I stay any longer she'll find out who I am, inebriated or no. But Kyoya just rolled his eyes at her and without really thinking, caught the bartender's attention for more whisky.

"He was my boyfriend," Haruhi began, her words holding a serious and more lucid note. "We date for more than five years. He was my senpai in high school, and to tell the truth, back then he was the last person I would have thought I would date. But university happened and things started there for the both of us." She snorted. "It was actually funny how we got together and I never told him this, but up until now, I still have his shirt."

Kyoya's lips lifted a bit. He remembered that embarrassing night that started everything for the both of them. He knew that Haruhi kept that shirt of his and used to use his other shirts as a nightshirt whenever he was away.

"Anyway, things got good for the both of us. We began working, but made our relationship work. We were both busy all the time and every moment we spent with each other was just perfect, even if they were stolen and far in between." Haruhi shot him a slightly lopsided smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I knew that it was stupid to wish that it would last longer."

"What's so wrong to wish about something like that?" Kyoya blurted out. "I mean, if it makes you happy, isn't it human nature to wish that it would…well, last longer, probably forever?"

"Yeah," replied Haruhi wistfully, "I really did. And it was my greatest mistake."

She was beginning to lean sideways into her seat and had not Kyoya been blessed with amazing reflexes, her ass (or her head) would have made painful contact with the floor.

"I think you probably had too much to drink," said Kyoya irritably as he hoisted her back to her seat when she slumped, boneless and drunk as hell.

"Says who?" demanded Haruhi but without much heat as she was still getting her bearings. "Waiter! Bartender! Dude with the moustache! I want another! Make it a Sex on the Beach, this time, will you?"

Kyoya mentally cringed at her choice of drink. Was she planning on killing herself due to alcohol poisoning? If so, there were more original ways of killing oneself without succumbing to liver cirrhosis.

He half-wanted to tell her to stop drinking, but in her state, she would just likely flip him off and go back to drinking.

Damn, I really need to run away now.

But something kept him to his seat. As he pondered on why he would even deign to sit beside an obviously hammered Haruhi, who by the way was relating their relationship to a virtual stranger. Not that Kyoya was a stranger to her of course, and well, Haruhi didn't know that it was him she was talking to…. And when the hell did he finish half of the whisky bottle?

Might as well get drunk with her, I suppose. He poured another shot from the half-empty bottle.

"You know…he asked me to come and live with him," Haruhi continued on drowsily. "And I said no." She rubbed her eyes and if Kyoya had taken his head off of his ass for a minute, he would have seen the small pool of tears that gathered and slid slowly down her cheek. By the time he decided to even glance her way, though, she had already rubbed them away, furious at herself.

"I don't know why I said no," said Haruhi, blubbering on as if her life depended on this important soul-baring confession--which it probably was. "I mean, even though I never tell him, he was always very special to me. He was there when I needed him, and when he needed me, I just clammed up. I'm such an uncaring bitch. I am a horrible whore." She slammed her head against the hard oakwood of the counter, the glass in her hand being pounded mercilessly on the side as well.

"I am a GODFORSAKEN IDIOT!" Haruhi yelled to the almost empty pub, startling the last few patrons who wished to have their drinks in peace. They all glared at the bar where the two sat and Kyoya didn't care enough to spare them a glance back.

"We all know you're an idiot," scoffed Kyoya, barely trying to get his wits about him; he was that drunk. "But try to keep your voice to a bare minimum lest our eardrums shatter due to your ineptitude of such things as manners." he sent her a smirk. "Though I wonder myself if you had enough brain cells left to even register what I'm saying. I think the alcohol must have fried what's left of it."

Haruhi growled and made for him, but instead, she sent a weak punch that he barely felt on his arm.

"You really sound like him!" she accused half-heartedly. "Are you sure you're not related?"

"Well, why don't you tell me about him more and we'll decide from there, shall we?" Yup, blood was rapidly disappearing from his alcohol system. And this was the final proof. He was actually getting interested in what she had to say, when he swore that he would never speak to her again.

"To tell the truth, I would do anything for him," Haruhi hiccupped. "He thinks that I'm strong when in fact, around him I'm weak. I knew back then, even before we started dating that should he ask me anything, I would have given it to him if I could. But I was selfish. I put my career first. And I guess I hurt him the most because that was what he expected of me.

"Yet we both knew when he asked me that I would drop everything. And that scared me more than it did him, so we broke up. And you know what, I've been thinking these past few days and it occurred to me that I never minded it at all. Should he ask me to leave a career I spent my whole life fighting for, and just live with him and have a family and all that…it brought a nice warm feeling to my chest. Like it was what I wanted all along. That it's what I crave for."

She gave him another sloppy smile. "And right now, if he burst through that door, asking me to marry him, I would do it in a heartbeat." Then she slumped to the counter. "But it's all over now. I missed my chance. I can never get him back.

"I'm not strong. I was never strong. But around him, I felt that way, maybe because he made me feel that way. People told me that it would take a strong man to pin me down, yet in reality, it had only taken one of his stupid smiles to get me on my knees, you know? Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" Haruhi crowed, earning her more disgusted looks. Two people stood up and walked out, having had enough of her drunken noisiness.

Kyoya couldn't take it anymore. He had heard enough. He slowly rose to his feet, testing his shaky legs to see if they could support him on the way to the bathroom.

Once there, he splashed a generous amount of water on his heated face, wondering if the sudden rise in his body temperature was caused by the alcohol or by Haruhi's words.

I think I'll do the safe thing and decide that it's the alcohol.

He searched his pockets for a handkerchief as he noticed that there were no towels around. Instead he found a small velvet box. He fingered it silently, wondering why he still had it.

Then he remembered. He planned to propose to her, actually. He had it all planned. The minute Haruhi moved in with him, he was going down on his knees and asking her to marry him. That this would be their home together. And he didn't just want her as a girlfriend who would go sooner or later. No, he wanted her forever. As Mrs. Kyoya Ootori. His wife. His.

That was all he wanted.

Yet she had said no, had said that it wasn't the time for it and she wasn't ready. He had not argued back, and had just stared as she collected her things and got out of the restaurant.

Things went to spiral down for him after that.

And now here he was, getting drunk on a daily basis and should he mention that he just got the most life-altering confession in his life ever? And by the same girl who dumped him.

The heavens surely hated Kyoya Ootori.

He got out of the toilet intending to take Haruhi home and stay by her side until she woke up so they could talk, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Where's the noisy girl that was here a minute ago?" Kyoya asked the bartender.

"A friend of hers came in and dragged her out," the bartender replied, wiping the last of the crystal glasses. "They were yelling all the way outside. Weirdoes."

Kyoya stared at his own glass which sat alone on the long and wide counter.

It was half-full.


Kyoya knocked on the door to Haruhi's office, steeling himself for what he was about to do.

"Come in," came Haruhi's tired voice and Kyoya opened the door.

"Haruhi," said Kyoya immediately upon seeing her. He frowned. She moved to speak but he stopped her swiftly with a few chosen words.

"We need to talk."


A/N: This is based on a real-life situation that I funnily found myself in. Surprisingly, though my alcohol tolerance is low, people have told me that I can still speak quite lucidly, though I babble on and sometimes burst out unexpectedly and never remember what I said while drunk. So if you ask me why Haruhi wasn't acting drunk enough, I based her on me, okay? Yes, this is somewhat choppy and disjointed and quite frankly, I'm not happy with it, but it won't leave my mind.

I am a feminist, but I wanted to write something wherein it's the woman's fault this time. We can't all be perfect. Try reading Philippa Gregory, who writes some of the most fantastic short stories about women and all the things that go with it.

Disclaimer: Kyoya had me jailed when I refused to get off his property where I was camping out until he admitted that he was mine.