AN: Hey guys, I'm back. So I'm taking another whack at a multi-chaptered fic, since my first one failed miserably. Second time's a charm, right? I'm trying a different approach - because of my awful writer's block and procrastination, I've already written like 5 chapters of this, and I'm going to try to post them all on a weekly, strict schedule. Hopefully I can stay ahead :/ Don't think this is gonna work, lol. I'll try, though, to be less sporadic and unreliable.
A few things:
The characters Satoshi and Kuze are going to be humongous parts of this story, and since they're manga-only characters, some of you might not know who they are...and you don't really need to. They're basically my way of using OCs without actually using OCs.
Everyone's gay. Cuz it's yaoi. And there are too many pairings to name/give away, so if you're offended by anything you might want to click back now (Although all we're really going to see is KyoKao).
This story is basically a big pile of angsty, romantic, dramatic bullshit, because I love fucking things up for Kaoru. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it xD
Think that's it. Enjoy! ~Aly
"Kaoru, let's play a commoner drinking game!"
I glared at the stupid blonde, the sound of his eager but annoying voice bringing a sharp pang to my forehead. I didn't mean to act so bitterly towards him, but I honestly couldn't help myself. He and I had never had problems before this god-forsaken night; up until now his whimsical antics have just bordered on irritating. I was currently standing by at a semi-pleasant buzz while the idiot was wasted beyond rational limits.
I'd never been around Tamaki when he drinks, except for the occasional glass of wine at classy social events. During those times he, like a proper gentlemen, refrained from getting too tipsy. I never thought he could actually be as shitfaced drunk as he was now. Who knew alcohol could do this much damage to my psyche so indirectly?
It was his twentieth birthday, and the entire retired host club had planned a special downtown get-together with him. We had planned to go out to dinner, then go clubbing or out to a bar or two. It was supposed to be a typical, over the top night on the town for us.
Unfortunately for me, and much to Tamaki's devastation, everyone abruptly canceled, except for me. Earlier that day Mori and Honey called to say there was an emergency at the dojo and couldn't make it. Haruhi had come down with an awful fever and wasn't able to even roll out of bed. Kyouya had to reschedule a impertinent meeting, and the only suitable day was today. And most aggravating of all, Hikaru blatantly refused to walk out the door with me that night, grumbling that he had better things to do. I was all alone with the king, and I was certain I was in store for a beheading eventually; I think this guy very well may be the death of me. It was his drunk ass that started everything.
At first it wasn't that bad - Tamaki was kind of miserable for the first half of the evening, but he had his characteristic rapid mood swings every five seconds to liven his spirits again. I felt unbearably awkward, since Tamaki and I had next to no history alone together, so I had no idea how to act. I resolved to just paint a smile on my face and go along with whatever his whims desired; it was his birthday, and everyone had bailed on him. I found it harder to carry on this charade as the night wore on. With every shot of tequila he kept getting more and more melodramatic and emotional. I had to start warning the public before Tamaki even stepped foot in a new bar, because I felt it obligatory to prepare them for the hell that would surely break lose for no apparent reason when he was around. If anybody thought Tamaki was ridiculous and extravagant when he was sober, they were in for a rude awakening.
So now, as we finally settled back into his mansion in the wee hours of the morning, my irritation level was high. I couldn't keep my aggravation off my face; by this point I assumed he was too blasted to notice my attitude. I was careful to avoid excessive amounts of alcohol, unlike Tamaki, who was literally taking shots like they were free kittens. I wanted to at least remember what happened in the morning, and maybe someday, decades in the future, I would be able to laugh about this whole thing.
I raised an eyebrow at his suggestion, mumbling, "Take it easy, Milord." The last thing he needed was more poison. Honestly, the potency alcohol had on his system was unprecedented. He was practically dead.
His face was suddenly enraged, yet playful at the same time. "You're just scared of my incredible talents in the art of commoner games!" He accused, narrowing his eyes in defiance. I wanted to smack him. So. Hard. He couldn't shut his mouth for five seconds, and I was utterly drained. "No mere mortal could possibly defeat the great Tamaki Suoh in a drinking game!" He proclaimed.
"You've got that right," I muttered under my breath while holding back a snide remark, and without waiting for a formal reply from me, he stumbled out of the room, slurring, "I'll get the tequila!" I was about to reluctantly chase after him - after all, his staircase was steep, and there'd be real hell to pay if I didn't return the idiot in perfect condition - when my phone rang shrilly from his bedside table. I deliberated quickly - which was more important, Tamaki's physical wellbeing and health, or whoever was calling me?
I meandered over to the nightstand, slowly flipping open my phone. "Yeah?" I asked tiredly, yawning.
"Kaoru. I need those cosplay order forms you and your brother are working on by tomorrow." I recognized the monotone as Kyouya's.
I internally groaned. Why was he calling me this late anyway? Didn't the demon lord ever sleep? Probably not. With a terse nod to no one in particular, I barked, "Alright, fine. Is that it?"
There was a brief pause before he answered. "I suppose so. Though I'd rather prefer them as soon as possible. Are you still with Tamaki?"
I wrinkled my nose. All he cared about was work, the selfish bastard. "Yeah. And it sucks. But don't tell him I said that. You assholes broke his heart enough as it is."
Before I could hear his retort Tamaki leapt into the room, beaming. My heart dropped in disappointment that he was able to find his way back up here. "Uh, I'll talk to you tommorow," I rushed into the receiver before Tamaki suddenly tackled me to the ground, my phone and the alcohol flying out of our hands and onto the bed. He straddled my waist, giggling like a maniac. My head rushed, suddenly dizzy.
"What the hell are you doing?" I screeched, trying weakly to push him off. Had the booze given him super strength or something? His grip was iron tight.
He pinned my arms to the carpet roughly and exclaimed with a grin, "Let's have a tickle fight!" Holy fuck. Not that. My eyes widened. I hated the glint in his eyes; this was dangerous territory for a variety of reasons. Tamaki's tickling skills were rumored to be notoriously deadly.
"What? No!" I tried to protest firmly, but he soon unforgivably had me absolutely dying with laughter. Tickling was one of my weak spots; I could never resist it. I couldn't do anything but squirm uncomfortably underneath him while I ached with dull giggles. In the back of my mind I noticed how intimate this was - not that I had any problem with physical contact, but his weight bearing on my pelvis was beginning to get uncomfortable. Not to mention the way his sinister fingers squeezed my skin until I could hardly breathe.
His hands slowed to a sudden stop, and with a breathtaking smile still on my face I exhaled, grateful for the relief as I let the last chuckles die out. I mentally noted to strangle him later.
Moments of stillness passed, and I dully noticed his intense stare into my eyes. I wrinkled my brow and was about to ask him what was wrong when he suddenly leaned down and kissed me. It was a soft, yet urgent kiss, and I couldn't do anything but freeze in shock. His lips were almost frenzied against mine, but were disconnected in a kind of way; I felt like a doll was kissing me. My breath was caught short, and I tried to decode his actions in my head. That was unexpected.
After a short moment he pulled away almost violently, clutching a hand to his mouth, his eyes piercing in horror. I'd never seen him so guilty before; he looked like he'd just committed homicide. I was still in shock, but I wasn't angry at him in the slightest - I was just curious to know why he did it, and why he looked so upset.
"I'm so sorry," he groaned, his eyes tearing up. I stared incredulously at him, my stomach twisting. If things were awkward before, this was downright unsettling. "It's just that you...I mean, you look like him, I guess...you were just so, you know...when you laughed..." his pained eyes silently pleaded at me.
I offered him a small smile, sitting up and trying to reassure him. "It's not a big deal," I insisted, attempting to console him. He started trembling, and I laid a hand on his shoulder. Why was he acting so mortified?
"Don't cry," I begged as a small tear slid down his cheek. Damn him and his pmsing. What the hell was going on? "I'm not angry, it really isn't that bad," I persuaded urgently. I didn't want to have to handle this right now.
"It is, though," he whispered, his voice shaking. He visibly averted my eyes.
In a flash he grabbed the discarded tequila bottle from its sprawl on the bed, simultaneously chucking me my phone. I absentmindedly turned it off, slipping it into my jeans. I hesitated, then gently asked through clenched teeth, "What do you mean?"
He stared at me, his expression dumbfounded. In an agonized tone he stammered, "W-well, I'm seeing s-someone," as he popped the cap.
If the kiss was surprising, this knocked me clear off my feet. I'd known Tamaki for years; ever since that fateful day in middle school up until now, well into university. I thought I had known his personality like the back of my hand; I thought I could predict every single move and word he would ever say. Never in our friendship would I have guessed he could say that. "What?" I gasped, looking at him like I was seeing a whole other person. "Who? For how long? Does anybody else know?" I pressed, searching his face for clues. This was big.
He shifted, wringing his hands and looking at the wall. He looked calmer, but still on edge. "Nobody knows, except you, I guess," he mumbled, biting his lip. I internally cursed. Now a huge burden weighted on my shoulders; how was my huge mouth and I supposed to keep this kind of a secret? "We've been going out for...um, a year, I think." Jesus Christ. He continued in a sharp chide, "And I can't tell you who it is. It isn't fair to them." I was taken off guard by how serious he had become. This wasn't normal Tamaki.
I stayed silent for a moment, then blurted, "Does that mean it's someone I know?"
He stopped. In a barely audible whisper he affirmed, "Yes."
"Holy shit," I murmured, at a loss for words. Who could it be? As an up and coming fashion designer, I knew a lot of people. I couldn't think of an acquaintance of mine that would do this. Dating secretly for an entire year? That must be difficult. "Why aren't you telling anyone?" I wondered.
"My grandmother wouldn't approve," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He took a swig of the tequila bottle, and I couldn't bring myself to bitch at him for it. "His family would approve of it, I think," he shot me a quick look before continuing, "But we're going to wait until I inherit the company before going public."
I mused over his words, trying in vain to narrow down the possibilities. I wasn't getting very far. Besides, why did I want to know? This was Tamaki's business after all. He was probably too drunk to think straight anyway. I still had one last question. In a wary voice, I said quietly, "Why did you kiss me, Milord?"
He flinched, tapping his fingers against the carpet restlessly. With a cringe he admitted, "You reminded me of him when you were laughing...we're in the middle of a really big, stupid fight right now. I don't know. I miss him. And he's going to kill me for this...oh god, he's really going to break up with me this time," he moaned, burying his face in his hands. I sighed. No wonder he was purposefully getting so drunk tonight; he wanted to forget about that fight or whatever. It all made sense now. He was just really confused, and lost, and hurting.
I shrugged and scooted closer to him. With a small breath I awkwardly winded my arms around him, attempting some kind of maternal comfort thing. In a hushed tone I soothed, "Sempai, listen to me. I want you to call him tomorrow, okay? Tell him you're sorry about the fight - even if it wasn't your fault - and that you just want to make up and be happy again. If he truly loves you, he'll apologize too, and this whole thing will blow over. You'll laugh about how stupid and dramatic it was. As for tonight..." I hesitated, hoping my advice wouldn't come to bite me in the ass. "Don't tell him about anything. And don't feel bad about it either - nothing even really happened. You were wasted and fucking irritating as hell, but it was all harmless. Even so...our secret, okay?"
I childishly held out my pinky to him. After a moment he securely linked his pinky to mine and whispered, "I promise." Silence ensued. I caught a glimpse of the clock; it was ridiculously late, and all I wanted to do was crawl in bed. He seemed to be lost in thought, his eyes glazed over and staring at the carpet. With a tentative voice, I suggested innocently, "Hey, why don't we call it a night? You look like you could use some sleep."
He brightened, and smiled half heartedly at me. "That's probably a good idea," he sighed, and clumsily got to his feet. Even I had to focus a bit to stand up - I wasn't blasted, but I was buzzed enough for my head to go in and out of fuzziness. Without asking his permission I nearly dragged him to his bed. He stumbled along after me, and sort of giggled when I threw him down on the bed and started undressing him. I left him in his boxers, figuring he could do the rest if he really wanted to change.
I thought he had passed out as I turned to leave, but I felt a tug on my wrist and looked down. He crushed me in a tight hug and squealed into my ear, "Thanks, Kaoru. I think you really helped me." After a second thought, he added seriously, "Not that someone as magnificent as me needs helping." He was literally suffocating me to the point of unconsciousness.
"Don't mention it," I grumbled, struggling out of his clutches. I could feel my tolerance slipping away with every passing second. "Now, go to bed." He finally complied, falling back on his pillows. I could've sworn I heard snores by the time I reached his bedroom door.
I navigated through the pitch black house stealthily, my heartbeat increasing as I furthered the distance between me and him. I waited until I was behind the wheel of my parked car to explode.
"What the fuck?" I screeched at my steering wheel, punching the dashboard angrily. Why did it have to be me? And what even happened tonight? I was so frustrated with everything that I almost hoped my drunkenness caused a crash, just so I could stop my reeling mind. God knows I was way over the limit.
Nothing ever went my way.
I tiptoed into my room at about five in the morning, a pink tinge of annoyance still plastered on my cheeks. I tried not to think about the last few hours; I was too disoriented to really process anything. On the ride home I couldn't help puzzling over his behavior. For all I knew he was just drunk and sprouting out meaningless garbage. After all, who could tell what was real and what was fantasy when it came to him?
I mused silently for a few moments, random thoughts plaguing and polluting my mind. I groped around in the dark for pajama bottoms as I started to undress. Thank the heavens it was Sunday tomorrow.
The light flicked on behind me, and I nearly died of a heart attack. I spun around to face my intruder, my shirt half over my head, my breath caught in my throat. Hikaru was sitting tersely in an armchair, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. Seething, I bunched my shirt up into a ball and threw it at his face. He didn't even flinch. "You scared the shit out of me!" I hissed.
His stony expression didn't change. "Why were you out so long?" I stiffened. He was still in his day clothes, and looked like he'd been sitting there for hours. His eyes were cold and hollow. I didn't like the suspicion evident on his face - was I the bad guy now? His attitude was starting to tick me off.
"I was busy babysitting Milord. And thanks for abandoning me, by the way, my entire night was a living hell."
He cringed. "What did you do anyway?"
I hesitated, turning my back on him to resume getting dressed. Fingering the cotton of my pajama pants, I replied carefully, "Nothing, we just drank and partied. And it was awful." I heard him scoff bitterly behind me. I whirled around to face him, my anger bubbling to the surface. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I demanded. "Why are you being such a dick? Why do you even care?"
"Why are you being so defensive?" He shot, bolting up to stare me down. He opened his mouth to scream at me further, but then a sudden look washed across his face. He bit his lip, his expression still unabashedly furious. After a second he grumbled, "Whatever. I'm going to bed." He stormed out of my room.
I was going to stop him, but a sudden wave of vertigo washed over me. To hell with him; he would figure out whatever inter turmoil was bothering him. I craved sleep badly. Sleep was my chosen coping mechanism for life in general. I flopped on the bed, not caring enough to finish dressing or even get under the blankets. Screw comfort.
And so I resolved to block out the world for a few blissful hours.
My head was pounding in the morning - or rather around noon, which was the time I woke up. My memories from the previous night were prominent, but murky. Maybe, hopefully, I had imagined the whole thing.
After barking at the twin maids to bring me truck loads of aspirin, my phone gave off a shrill ding that offended my sensitive ears. With a grimace I flipped open my phone, seeing I received a text.
Could you come over for a quick consultation as soon as possible? It's urgent.
Consultation? What was this, intervention, or therapy or something? I groaned, tossing my phone across the room and rubbing my aching head.
Once my maids returned with the numbing medicine I felt a little better, but still was dreading having to deal with the Shadow King. No doubt he was going to nag my ear off about profits or budgets or other uninteresting crap. It was probably the damming cosplay paperwork he was bitching about. I eventually dragged myself in. the shower, deciding to get it over with. About half an hour later I was as ready as I could be to head out. I passed Hikaru's room on the way out; I hadn't spoken with him since last night, but I decided to leave him alone. I knew my brother got insanely jealous over everything and always held petty grudges, but in time he'd let it go. Besides, I could use some alone time as well.
I drove rather recklessly to Kyouya's estate, speeding when it wasn't necessary. After nearly mauling every pedestrian in the city, I finally arrived at the polished gates of the bland mansion. I punched in my personal visitor's code and accelerated to the driveway.
Kyouya called a soft, "Come in," as I knocked on his door after situating myself in the residence. I tensely thanked the butler who escorted me to his room and took a deep breath, inching the door open quietly.
AN: So? Next chappie is where things start heating up. Mm-hm. And by heating up I mean drama. No smut for a little while, kiddies.
Review if you could! It would make my spring break! :D
Hasta la pasta ~ Aly