Chapter Text
This was a bad idea.
Mostly because he's not suited for an environment like a club, which is ironic since his high school extracurricular depended on elaborate displays, but he was losing hope. With this many people here, he started to think he'd never pick her amongst the partygoers. There were too many faces in a dim room. He’d squint his eyes, but it barely helped to discern when the lights didn't wave in a certain spot and the stench of spirit induced enjoyment wasn't his cup of tea nor was the suffocating humidity filling the club.
There was no way she'd be here. She must've upped and left already like she's done all today. This truly was a game of cat and mouse and damnit, he got played.
Kyoya, miffed by everything around him, strutted past a few bobbing shoulders and occupied booths to find solace by a wall. The music was numbing his eardrums and he was ignoring any girls’ buzzed advances to talk to him. He wasn't having it. He wasn't supposed to spend the rest of his day chasing after a girl in Bunkyō, but here he is, the fool that rushed in.
But as he did another look over the crowd with his hopes low and ready to leave, his eye latched onto a familiar shiny sliver of red hair. His sober breath grew stale, and with it came an increase of his heart rate as he followed where it went, hoping the flash of light would remain.
There, dancing amongst strangers who were dangerously close in her bubble, was the girl he was looking for.
She swayed along to the music, the tight fabric of her faux leather pants clinging to each movement as she danced selflessly without a care in the world. Her hair, wavy and free and scarcely covering her bare tan shoulders, matched the tempo of her twirls as she blended in the crowd, acting like another person who was there to party and get drunk. Evidently it was true because why would she come here in the first place? He didn't peg her as the type to immediately enter a club after arriving in Japan, but then again, he didn't know she'd return at all.
Shaking off his shock, Kyoya maneuvered through the crowd, his focus deadset on her location. He wasn't here to dance nor drink, but to tell her to leave. To remind her of her mistake. To tell her off and ensure she never comes back. It was time to do the right thing. It was long overdue.
However, as he shortened the distance remaining between them, just as he feared, the old attraction reignited against his will. It spurred his heart to life like a newly lit matchstick, warming his body until it was uncomfortably stuffy. Kyoya loosened his tie, even going as far as popping a button near his collar so he could have some form of control over himself. His emotions were getting to the best of him, especially when he’s seeing someone he once pined for.
Or was he just dismissing the fact that his feelings for her never left at all?
At the drop of a soundless pin, the crowd danced faster, causing others to elbow or knock into his limbs without much of an apology. He grunted at the unstoppable forces around him, caught in their web of motion. But when the clashing of limbs did end, he looked back to where he originally saw her only to see her gone.
“Goddamnit–” He scanned the expanse of the club again.
With his luck that never applied to her, he was sure she was merely a wishful mirage and his friend played a nasty trick on him. Kyoya cursed under his breath, dousing himself with a cold bucket of reality the longer he tried to find her amongst the crowd. He was becoming delusional over a girl, wasn’t he?
But no, it wasn’t delusion.
Her silhouette, which was hidden behind several dancing couples and sleight of shadows, was seen at the nearby bar. She leaned over the tabletop to speak to the bartender who also leaned in to hear whatever she had to say to him. In doing so, her back arched, giving anyone a nice view of her figure. Kyoya lifted his eyes higher, gluing his focus elsewhere. He may be a young man, but he didn’t want to dwell on inappropriate thoughts, intentionally or not.
Even so, he marched over with his determination and sanity hardly rekindled, prepared to get this over with.
At the bar, she held her head up with her propped elbows, watching as the bartender mixed her drink. She was in dire need of quenching her thirst and a simple Dirty Shirley was enough to get the job done. However, as she waited in passing for him to finish, she was expecting someone else to try and bug her. Someone who she was supposed to see hours ago, but she refused vehemently for it to happen. Not yet, anyways.
What was the point in running someone high and dry if you can’t do it right?
“Thank you.” Kimiko smiled at the bartender, passing him the due amount for his service.
He winked at her, resuming his glass polishing to appear busy. “You are welcome, babe.” He said in limited, heavily accented English.
From the moment she ordered, she could tell he was trying to score. His roaming eyes were a dead giveaway. But with her pretending to be a foreigner who knew no Japanese, she was getting away without any unwarranted numbers to her name tonight. His, especially. She loved watching the young bartender struggle to make any conversation with her and the rummaging eyes he so keenly could not hide– it was funny to see him try.
“Sorry, but I don’t like Japanese boys.” She told him with a wink of her own. “Sorry.”
Through his sputtering and sad attempt to talk to her again, Kimiko gave him another grateful smile with her drink in hand, abandoning him at his post. While it may be fleeting to make men bark, there was bigger fish to fry.
Finding an empty table, she sat down to rest her feet, sipping and savoring the lovely fizz and sweetness of her drink. It soothed the sweat on her skin, providing her a necessary comfort after dancing for an hour. But most importantly, the alcohol gave her the liquid courage to confront what she’s left behind.
“Kimiko-senpai.”
The music was loud, but his voice was louder, clearer, desperate. That’s exactly what she wanted. But as she sat with her back to him, her bare shoulders, which tensed without permission the second she heard his voice, were suddenly so cold. Goosebumps dotted her skin, especially when he uttered an old title that very few used. It sank to the pit of her stomach and her heart that suddenly weighed a million pounds went along with it.
‘You’re stronger than this.’ She told herself, thumbing the edge of the glass, seeing a bit of lipstick painting its curve. ‘It’s just your name, for crying out loud!’
But was it really just the call of her name that made her feel so uneasy?
Kimiko took another sip of her beverage, needing the extra shot of vodka to work its magic. It was time to face the music.
With a tentative sigh, she spun herself with the heel of her boot.
“...”
His specially curated speech, which was ready to deliver hours ago, wilted as she finally looked at him. The music that rang in his ears was suddenly not so deafening and the absurd amount of people dancing around them didn’t bother him as much. However, the beating organ in his chest betrayed him again, taking over his perception.
From the long length of her layered hair to the way she wore makeup so prettily– he drank in her full image, accepting who she’s become during the time they lost contact. She looked so different yet familiar to the girl he knew during his adolescent days. Adulthood is part of their biological evolution, but this was different.
She’s changed.
But so has he.
Kimiko crossed her leg over the other, holding her glass firmly as she waited for him to say something, anything he desired. But seeing him tongue tied, a trait that wasn’t common in the Ootori family line, she went first.
“Hi.” Her mouth went on fire as she spoke a language she sought to forget. “You look a little lost.”
To hear her voice— it was like retrieving a buried memory from the trenches of a forgotten soul.
“It's not my kind of scene to begin with.” He said, finding his voice weak despite coming on strong.
He cleared his throat, masking it with the bass of the music.
She tilted her head. “Then, why are you here?”
“To retrieve you.”
“Well, I don’t intend to leave quite yet.” She held the glass to her lips, gazing at him past the sugared rim of her Dirty Shirley. “I wasn’t even aware someone was sent to find me.”
Wait, what? Kyoya was sure he was purposely sent on a wild goose chase by her. There was nothing to hide when looking at someone's bank statements.
Seeing the blatant surprise on his face, Kimiko couldn’t help but belt out a laugh. “Haha! I’m just messing with you, Kyoya! I really had you there, didn’t I?”
He ignored the option to relish her laugh and instead turned his nose in defiance.
She thought a club would scare him off, but here he is, brave and cool looking even though he was visibly gawking at her moments ago. “How’d you get inside in the first place?”
He’s only nineteen. To get inside, he’d have to be at least twenty years old.
“I have my ways.”
A defying warmth grew in her chest at his honest, cocky reply. “You always do.” she muttered, glancing to the sticky floor for a second.
“So, when are you leaving? I, after all, have to escort you back to your uncle’s. He’s expecting you.” He shuffled closer until he was less than a pace away. “Unless you'd prefer I take you back to the airport and send you home?”
The cherry grenadine soured on her tongue, reminding her that she wasn’t here for a reunion. She was here to make his life a living hell for what he didn’t do years ago. Her heart hardened, erasing whatever nostalgia she felt for his callous answer.
“You’re a killjoy, you know that? Can’t a girl have fun? The night has just begun and I want to dance.” She said, deflecting the last option.
She'd much rather be home in America than overseas in Japan. He obviously knew that.
“And drink.” He glanced at the red fizzy drink in her hand.
She swirled the remaining liquid. “Nothing wrong with having a little alcohol.”
“Is there a particular reason why you’re drinking?”
“Well, Kyoya.” She reached inside the glass, procuring the cherry sitting atop the melting ice. “When you’re out partying, naturally you grab a beverage befitting the atmosphere.”
Or she drank because she experienced her first breakup, but he didn’t need to know that. The detour to a club was quite liberating for a young adult who was lost on what to do with her life. After breaking things off with Pierre and learning the news about her Aunt, she really didn’t know how to proceed. College, while it was asleep on her laptop, could wait. Kimiko popped the maraschino cherry in her mouth, chewing the syrupy fruit to banish those thoughts away.
“I didn't take you as much of a dancer nor drinker.” He put a hand on his hip.
“College does that to you.” She set the finished glass aside, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. “You learn a lot of new things when thrown into the real world. I'm sure you've had your own lovely experiences.”
“I wouldn't call them lovely nor do I have many to account for.”
He was throwing a particular group under the bus for saying that, but she held her tongue. “It’s never too late. You're still young.”
Kyoya pushed his glasses up his nose, done with the small talk. “Just why are you back in Japan, Senpai?”
“You're always about business.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I'm sure you already know why I'm here. Why else would I be in Japan?”
The words escaped him faster than he could think. “Enlighten me.” And from the look on her face, she did not approve of the response.
Her high heeled boots clicked against the ground as she stood up, snatching the fabric of his high quality tie. Even with a height difference, he instinctively bent down to her level from her forcible yank. Whatever attitude Kyoya possessed went away with the wind. Now, he was lulled by the siren’s mystical presence. Her light eyes, which swam with drunken flair, stared intently at him as if to enrapture him fully. And with Kimiko being so close he could smell, almost taste the fruity alcohol dancing on her hot breath.
“Y’know, I think we've had enough chitchat. I suggest you leave because this isn't the place to talk.”
The saliva in his mouth begged for him to swallow. “I already told you, I'm not leaving without you.” His Adam’s Apple bobbed against his will.
“Then what? You're gonna dance?” She gave him a quick up-down, a notion that didn’t go unnoticed by Kyoya. “You just look like some sore thumb of a Japanese businessman who doesn't know how to boogie on the dancefloor.”
Kimiko unfurled her hand from his tie, planting that same hand on top of his slicked back hair. Without hesitation, she tangled her fingers past the hardened gel, ruining his sleek style that he probably spent half an hour on every morning. After she was done she pulled back, admiring her fine work. Kyoya just stood there, appalled at what she did.
“Welp, not anymore. It’s just too bad that you’re blind as a bat without your glasses. You'd get some girls if you wore contacts.”
He exhaled a long sigh, standing straight with a hand fixing his strewn tie. “Senpai…” He didn't want to know what the state of his appearance was.
“So what'll it be, Shadow King? Are you gonna run home?” She walked past him with a confident bounce in her step. “Or will you stay and dance?”
She didn’t stay to know his answer. She continued into the dark crowd, blending into the energy risen adults who danced like their life depended on it. And right now, Kimiko wanted nothing more than to dance whatever she was feeling out of her system. Finding a little vacant spot next to a group of girls, she began to dance to the beat. She swayed her hips while her hands slid up the scale of her body, losing herself in the loud music.
Was she dancing because she could? Yes. But was she also being petty towards Kyoya? Most definitely. Her tolerance for his feigned ignorance was at its cap, and she was pulling every last bit of her patience to not unleash her built up anger onto him.
But when the lights came on, there he was, standing in front of her. She was expecting the said anger to bubble to the surface, but it didn’t. Instead, an exhilarating and gleeful energy zoomed through her body, guiding her to him.
“So, you’ve decided to stay after all.” A daring smile curled at her lips.
Kyoya brushed the stray hairs from his forehead, heaving a pensive sigh. “What other choice do I have?”
“Then show me what you can do, rich boy.”
“I don’t dance.”
“That much is evident.” Kimiko stopped in front of him. “Then, let’s do a dance that you actually know.”
“And that is…?”
“A waltz.” His incredulous stare made her snort. “What? You're acting like we've never danced together before.”
“Not in a setting like this.”
She grabbed his hand, placing it on her waist. Incidentally, it was where her tubetop ended. Kyoya glanced down, his hand perceiving the exposed soft skin on his fingers before his brain did.
“There’s a first for everything.”
As if the DJ heard their conversation, the music transitioned to a softer, more melodic song. It must’ve been a popular love song because the crowd went wild, scrambling to find a suitable dance partner of their own. Kimiko cheekily grinned at Kyoya, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Certainly a first.” He replied with delayed intonation, his dark eyes flickering onto Kimiko. “... But it doesn’t have to be the last.”
Smoothly, his free hand found hers, lacing them together as if she were of porcelain origin. Now connected, he strung her into him, the heat of their bodies combining instantaneously. Kimiko gasped inaudibly when she was brought forth, her footing coming undone from his sudden backstep– or was it the alcohol? But to her chagrin, Kyoya held her upright with devious ease. She huffed, refusing to say a word about her blunder.
And thus, they waltzed.
Years of dancing at formal parties have trained him to be aware of his surroundings whether it be on the dancefloor or those standing on the sidelines. To think he’d be at a club dancing an informal waltz with the girl he liked and no one to judge nor impress– was liberating. He didn’t have to care about anything pertaining to his status. Here, he could just be whomever he wanted to present himself as. However, changing how Kimiko viewed him would be slow to reverse. He knew that the moment he chose to not tell her the truth could be the final nail in his coffin, and it was. For three years he laid in the grave he dug, beating himself down for what could have been different. But, there was finally a chance to redeem his mistakes now that she was here. A chance to make things right– and it all depended on how he chose to proceed. The ball was in his court this time and he would do anything, everything to prevent what they planned for her future.
But in this timeline, he wanted to be there for her every step of the way. His inaction as a teenager would not define him any longer, but there was more to it, more than he’d like to admit because he feared his bright-eyed best friend was right all along.
He was in love with her and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.