A/A/N: This will be the third last chapter! I think…well the next chapters a sort of biggie and then it's an epilogue. You guys want an epilogue right? So good to me, you all are. I love you all so much. Thank you for all your reviews!

Tamaki knew Kyouya was holding back whatever kind of unnamed sadness that burdened his shoulders. Though, the blonde feared that he knew what it was too. The 'what' usually appeared to be a neat, cozy place now equipped some sort of shallow depth of it all, even when things started to gradually heat up. The wound was slowly mending itself due to the ice-pack pressed against its max. Tamaki just hoped he wouldn't be stupid enough to hold the knife by the handle and force it down to convert the wound into a scar.

Kyouya's soul was usually ghosting and smirking with a cool essence that lured Tamaki's playful characteristic into the den. Now he viewed it mourning—no, not mourning. Selfless, unmoving and tamed with lack of sensations. He needed to take a bigger step even if it was a risk—after all, he was about to slobber up the wound with a random bottle with sticky substance inside, with no intelligence to what it was. Even worse, his fingers would be shaky while he rubs it in, and the knife may bulge. However, Tamaki was a risk taker, Kyouya's sister provided at a hearty conversation. It ended up with Kyouya's rebuttal: "That is where you are wrong. He is simply too stupid to figure out the risks he's taking."

The prince remembered the dark aura that surrounded him for days, and the mushrooms that decided to live in his hair after hearing that comment. Then Kyouya did one of those miraculous things he did whenever he was down. Like when Antoinette couldn't go on their trip to France and Tamaki could hear her "crying in his dreams" or when the lack of his Mother's presence was simply too heavy for him to keep wielding his sword. Kyouya did that. And now he was about to do the same thing. He'll just express it in a different, hopefully sufficient way. Wish him luck, you might, he's entering the solid, cold gates of the demon.

When Tamaki reached the soft corridors and the carpet kept by Kyouya flooring, he gently touched the knob, squeezed, hesitated maybe, but pulled at last. It was the master bedroom, and it was now night time, around eight p.m (usually Kyouya slept really early by popular demand, okay, it was only Shima but she was quite scary when she wanted to be. The hopeless woman figured that the earlier he slept, the earlier he will wake up. It doesn't work at all.)
Distantly, and in another scene, this is about the time Hikaru was permitted to take his brother home, but we'll worry about that timely.

There was a considerable hiatus of silence as Tamaki gazed at Kyouya who was standing in the connecting bathroom, staring right back at him. His skim almost took the level of ivory, reflecting the glow of dim moonlight that shone and peered from the window. His outfit was as simple as his descriptions; a pure black tank top that was slung over his slim frame, contrasting with his pale skin, his thighs covered by night shorts that accustomed a deep blue midnight color. In many ways, Tamaki mused that sometimes, just sometimes, Kyouya expressed himself from his wear. Although, most people wouldn't know as they'd barely seen Kyouya in casual clothes. Also, he'd never say this out loud, not ever and especially not to Kyouya. He'd get skinned alive. And he loved his skin.

Suppose he goes back to said attire. Black and blue, the darkest shade of blue there, just an inch apart from those types of blue that makes you feel miserable. The Black that surfaces the beady eyes of a crow, close to a raven's yet nowhere near. This was how his beautiful boyfriend looked like right now, staring at him. The scene should have been awkward, but they lapsed into quite an understanding.

Kyouya was hesitant but he gave one tiny, subtle nod of understanding to the blonde man and stepped forward, done with all the toiletries that was in need to be attended to. The raven haired, young man closed the door behind him, discarded his glasses and set them aside before slipping under the covers, his back the only thing Tamaki could see. This was more than he expected, Tamaki beamed.

Quickly, Tamaki tugged off his small coat for winter and tossed it aside onto the floor—something he knew Kyouya disapproved of. Crawling on his hands and knees like a wild animal, he crossed the covers of the bed and gently laid himself beside Kyouya, facing his back. Before him, Kyouya had his eyes wide open, mouth slightly open to breathe and curious as to what his stupid boyfriend would do next according to plan. Kyouya jumped slightly when he felt the familiar fingertips of Tamaki trace through the small of his back. Quite visibly though, he relaxed shortly after the given act.

Behind him, he heard Tamaki sigh. The blonde inched slightly forward, his lips concerned and sad-looking form of shape as he pushed the shadow king forward so he was now lying on his stomach. Kyouya's face came into contact with the pillow as he was smushed, but he didn't make any audible sound—his face remained durably passive and he refused to twitch once. Oops, his bad.

He twitched; alarmed as he felt the cool surface of Tamaki's palm pressed hard on his shoulder blade. Kyouya swears to any living messiahs out there that if it wasn't for Tamaki's good looks and attitude and caring personality, he was there for the back messages. Of course, he wouldn't let Tamaki know that.

The shadow king ripped out a small moan that made Tamaki grin as he started working his way down Kyouya's spine with small movements to the hand in silent massage. The strong hands cupped and squeezed, in hope to ease the tension in those tense muscles by altering the pressure as well as where it was most needed. Kyouya didn't question once though, his hands by his side, as he felt cool air caress his back but he knows Tamaki had folded his large tank top upwards to view his toned back.

There was a brief silence, in which Kyouya breathed slowly, turning his head to the side to catch Tamaki in his vision. When he saw the blonde reaching forward to grab a small bottle of oil they kept just in case, his gaze strayed forwards, away from the king. There was a soft groan of appreciation as he felt the warmed substance sprawled along his back, and spread with long, pianist-like talented figures that had many perks Kyouya was quite fond of. For example, despite the elegant shape and graceful movements, the palm of his hand was sometimes as soft as a baby, but most of the times callused by rougher activities. In many ways, that hand represented a dear lot of the owner himself. Rough to the core, but soft in many ways.

With the blonde, it always seemed like his back and shoulders seem to need tending to every day or so, something that Kyouya often mused himself but dare not question it (He certainly didn't want to miss out on any of these God-like caresses). He closed his eyes, his vision getting bleary as a speck of light found its way.

Tamaki stared down at those half covered eyes with mute impotence. The blonde gradually found his gaze dragging somewhere else that they usually settled in, whenever he had the chance.

He knew that Kyouya's eyes were grayish blue, in much the same way that one knows that light reflecting through water droplets will form a rainbow. The longing glimpses Tamaki got of the eyes behind his glasses when his head was turned aside were akin to seeing a rainbow from afar. But this... this was like standing in the middle of one, and about as miraculous. He always knew how putty he felt when he examined those eyes over and over again, and how this was one of his major weaknesses.

His lashes were long and dark, fluttering as he blinked in the unaccustomed light. His pupils contracted as they struggled to adjust, showing off as much of that gray hue as possible. They weren't a solid color; veins of lighter and darker silver radiated out in spokes, and the entire iris were flecked with tiny golden specks.

He really was beautiful.


The blonde froze his actions when one arm curled up and another hand squeezed his own, stopping his motions. Kyouya peered from the corner of his eye, and they spared a few minutes silence just staring at each other's eyes in awe of who knows what. Then his gaze lifted sheepishly to jeep back to the ridges of the healthy wall.

Tamaki sighed, gently positioning himself to the side to sit cross-legged, on the bare, welcoming space next to the tuckered up Kyouya.

"We're being ridiculous." Kyouya whispered.

"At the very height," Tamaki replied quietly. "You have every right to remain like this…Mama always told me I was childish,"

"We tend to act like children sometimes." The answer was almost immediate, causing the other male to blink down in surprise. When he endured the raven's gaze elsewhere, he stared at the night stand that held the familiar glint of Kyouya's glasses.

"Is that why I like to suck on your nipples?"

The joke broke a small grin to Kyouya's lips, almost resolving in smacking that atrocious mouth.

Without speaking and neither moving, the blonde haired enigma leaned down gently so he wasn't squishing Kyouya and pecked him softly on the cheek. And trailed down to his lips.

A large hand was raised to his flank, only to travel subconsciously to that hip that was Kyouya's.


Hikaru sat sideways of Kaoru in the back of their limousine. Their figures were angled away from each other, something that every individual that knew them both should be concerned of. Hikaru couldn't place it, it can only settle for "a deep sense of sadness" skipping away near his chest. Or maybe running upwards and below to his stomach, and an endless amount of laps to be continued. Every now and then, his eyes speared sideways to stare subconsciously at his brother in concern who had his eyes out the window to stare at the moving surroundings. Afraid of him catching his glance, he backed away and did the same.

Nothing was said in exchange to each other. Hikaru had waited until five when the nurses gave their final examination before proceeding to bugger him with all the medications, as well as Kaoru, his brother needed to be taking. When, where, how, why—all that crap.

But not even one time, during that harsh and painful speech had Kaoru actually faced his agitated brother in assurance or even a brief question to be asked. The younger still wasn't replying to any of his questions and only summed it up with one word to slice the final sausage, like "later" or "toilet". When it was time to finally take him home, they stepped into the limo without one word to each other.

It was blasphemous. He wanted so much as to force the small figure into his arms and never let go until he can give a final, positive answer about his health and how he was feeling. But at the same time, Kaoru did go through quite a lot, and Hikaru respected Kaoru's needs always. It disheartened him to think that Kaoru needed some time alone and away from Hikaru immensely.

When they arrived home shortly, greeted by Masao and their twin servants, they both parted ways—Hikaru to the kitchens and Kaoru to the bedrooms. The many maids were vaguely amazed to see them both apart and hoped for the best, while many (after receiving the news) were just relieved to have both of them home.

Kaoru was on his bed, a passing sense of memories from his earlier activities rushing through his head. His imagination, and how far it lead him to, his weak flirtations and hints that Hikaru never seemed to pick up, the envious urges that made him swing a pillow into the wall forcefully in distress after Hikaru went to visit Haruhi, the after moments that lead him to Tamaki and Kyouya's house (which he refused to see right now, along with everyone else) the list…

That God. Damned. List.

The younger twin let out a short, bitter laugh. Every single word and action from that list, crossed. He couldn't remember what become of that list. Whether that night, he imagined tearing it up and throwing it into the fire or it was just simply elsewhere. Not that it mattered anymore. He failed, and it felt like his heart did simultaneously, gradually as if he was a moving. Hikaru never did love him. Maybe he was the only thing wrong in the brothership. Hikaru didn't even deserve a brother like him, loving as far as someone like his own brother! Ha! Kaoru brought his trembling hands to his face, covering his eyes. What a failure he had been to his own fault. Even when he had attempted bringing them even closer, instead of being a success, his brother was downstairs, now probably even talking to Haruhi over the phone and he was left upstairs marking his self pity.

This was not the way it was supposed to be. It seemed impossible, but it was ending right here, with his brother still entrusted to his girlfriend and the planner and succeeded drowning with failure on the bed with his hands over his face, his forehead still slightly burned up in small fever, and his stomach still lurching and making the most flips as possible without smashing into an object. Self pity droned out as the disgusting taste of the woman on his tongue made him cringe as it lingered, something so dreadful in his mouth like a bird died in there, self hoping and in pure need. Kaoru could have helped it, could have set it free, but it died in him instead, a shiny black raven maybe. Yes, it would be a raven. The boy remembered faintly of a chorus of a song, one that aforementioned him that ravens were the only birds associated with death. Well, that was stupid. What kind of stupid moron figured to associate death with an animal that harbored wings?

Death didn't deserve to fly. It had to have beady eyes menacing and intimidating to anyone who came across its barricaded lock. Its body as cruel as summers nigh on the beach with plenty of grasshoppers to spare yet seeming as small as those of the said grasshoppers, slowly dying just like everyone else albeit slower. As slow as Kaoru's heartbeat at that time when he saw something he desperately wished he will never see again in his whole life. Hikaru's gentle, chipped-whispered lips carrying the love to press against Haruhi's.

That horrible feeling flickered once again, and he swore on his life that Death, the very raven that died once on his tongue reincarnated and died once again, in the battles of his wildly pumping heart. And the medication on his tongue tasted so vile, something that only woman's kiss could rival up to, and his tears were the only moisture in the blazing desert that would have once been comfortable to sleep in once he had Hikaru by his side.

It was just not fair.

Someone was knocking on the door, as Kaoru was crawled up in dry sobs that seeks of no evidence. Kaoru straightened himself out and waited briefly in silence, as if to observe if whoever it was had the guts to step in and bugger him. The door opened with a lovely snap and in stepped his brother, his golden eyes shining even when his expression was so dull. Oh. Well this was another case.

"Hey," His brother's voice was so scratchy as if unsure of everything. In so many ways, those statements were true; so unsure of Kaoru's feelings, so unsure of the world around him. His heart-breaking, naive older brother, he was.

"Hi," He breathed out, rising from his spot on the bed. His brother looked as good as he always did, like he was the poison. Oh, isn't that much too cruel? While his medication was disgusting and as vile as a scratched up, spat our hairball, his brother being the poison was as sweet as Honey's favorite strawberry cake. Oh, the cosmic irony. On cue, and unaware of his actions, his eyes lowered the moment Hikaru set foot into the room like it was a done thing.


The younger brother felt the bed dip beside him, flinching but did not dare look up. Hikaru briefly rested a hand on his shoulder.

With his free fingers, he tilted Kaoru's face by the chin and emitted eye contact with his twin brother. "Are you feeling unwell?" He breathed. And his eyes looked so sincere, so sincere it just wasn't fair. The fairness swooped down on so many levels, at the bottom of the pit that Kaoru felt tears warming up. Unwilling to lose the contact yet also not wanting Hikaru to view his weakness, he gently pushed Hikaru's hand away and stared ahead. Hikaru didn't expect a reply but he was still disappointed.

"You need to take two tablets per day," Hikaru trailed off after that, standing up. He stared at his brother before shading his eyes from his bang, peering in another, slightly less depressing direction. In one hand, he was holding a small bottle containing of pills. Hikaru picked up a glass that he settled down earlier, having refilled it with the finest of liquid. "Kaoru," He prompted, urging the bottle forwards.

When his little brother still refused to look at him, he plucked the bottle from underneath his fingertips and shake it so two pills tumbled out. He clenched his fist around them and bottled the cap once more before pulling Kaoru up. When Kaoru stared back up at him in surprise, he averted his own before sitting on the bed where Kaoru was previously sitting on and pulled Kaoru down onto his lap. Once again, the elder was surprised when he didn't even register a yelp or a indignation like Kaoru always did once he placed him on his lap.

"Open up," He commanded quietly. Slowly, his hand that adorned two pills inside came closer to Kaoru's shaky mouth, and when he obliged, the younger slowly took them into his mouth. He choked.

"Easy!" Hikaru eased, rushing forward and taking the glass of water. Kaoru took it from his brother's hands and started squelching the moisture into his dry mouth.

"That's it," Hikaru reassured. "The doctor said if you still can't swallow it, we can try chopping it in half." He didn't get an answer but when his younger twin's eyes started watering, he blindly groped for Kaoru's fingers and squeezed them comfortingly. The pills went down. Kaoru squeezed back before pulling away.

"I'm fine," His voice was hoarse and he tried staring at Hikaru with a slight determination to prevent the wavering from faltering out. Kaoru raised his eyebrows when Hikaru's facial expression finally turned angry. That scary emotion so wrong for a face like that, altered and flickered into something almost finished through weaving.

Hikaru shut his eyes and it seemed to be the last moments, pleading for the right wire in which he should cut. He reopened them with a shocking wave of ferocity. "Why can't you just tell me, Kaoru?!" The tone was angry with a clash of beetroot red, though it was more pleading than harsh. Although Kaoru tried to understand that very thing, he appeared hurt.

"I'm fine, Hikaru. Do I need to repeat myself?" He surprised even himself when those words came out monotone and calm, which seemed all the more cruel and slashing like a milk carton getting swiped by the tip of a poisonous blade.

"Don't give me that!" Hikaru rebutted - his eyes wide and merciless. "You've been sulking around, or—or, I don't know! I hate it when you look so sad! It pisses me off!"

That was that. Kaoru rose up, face down, hidden from his bangs. It seemed like a token for realization as Hikaru widened his eyes in mid shock. "I'm going to take a walk." Kaoru replied quietly. Hikaru stared forwards, the only evidence of twin-ish presence were the faint footsteps, the scent of sweetness, then the loud bang of the door and then it was gone.

Hikaru took his place on the bed, staring down at his shaky hands.

It pissed me off so badly, Kaoru…because angels don't have to be sad. And when they do, the comfort seeps in through the fruit of a lover. Something that I, a mere brother would be wrong to do.
...would it?

There was a small pitter patter on the tapestry supporting the windows. Hikaru rose up but took his seat back again. It started raining. Way to set the scene, nature. Way to make it sound cliché, nature. It was like a curious sailor waiting for his siren downfall with the knowledge that he was going to go down after all. He just wanted to see that beauty; it was worth it. The rain pounding on the floor sounded like heavy drums, the beating of two hearts combined to pair in sync. That was what happened—him and Kaoru, hearts so close, so used to each other, that they beat in the same rhythm.

Hikaru dipped down his body so his head was in his hands.

Knock knock.
"Young master? Would you care for some refreshments?"

Hikaru split his hands basket to stare at Masao with one eye. He relented with a sigh, nodding his thanks before dismissing the servant. Masao was like a large grandfather clock which opposed to the twin servants who were like arched bedroom dressers.

He eyed the platter that was perched on the bedroom stand.
Hikaru sniffed faintly of chocolate scones and rendered forwards until he was lifting the case.

Ah, his favorite. Masao really out does himself, good ol' chap.

They were refreshments at his best and Hikaru once ventured (when he was very young) to enter them into a baking competition. Because no one can simply beat Masao's scones. Beside the treats was a note. Masao always did this, write down a famous quote and place it as a treat besides the actual treat. Shifty eyes stared forward.

The world is a mass of idiots. In a hidden alcove, one meets another.
But they're separated by thin glass. Maybe one day, one would sacrifice a hand.
To punch through the glass. And to bleed the color of the one they love.
-J. Altar.

Hikaru was nowhere to be seen. Because later on, he's running down the stairs, almost tripping. He shouts out a thank you to Masao before crashing through the doors, a name travelling out of his lips. His brother's name.

A/A/N: And that concludes the corny chapter. Sorry. I've been told that my writing is too cliché and corny, but eh. That's just how we roll. I'm never saying that again heh. I got my braces done today! Sad face. It's a jail in my mouth. I love you all! Please review!

P.s: It's what all you guys have been waiting for! :D The Twin smut is finished! You'll find it on my profile, the title being "A Baby Brother's Love." Yeah. Corny, so what. I seriously…love…you all…