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Kyoya prides himself on being prepared for everything.
Ever since he'd turned thirteen, Kyoya had this sense of time running out. It was unexplainable, really. At the head of the medical world, Ootoris didn't exactly have much to worry about in the way of illness. And they led such meticulously planned lifestyles, such traditional healthy lifestyles, that it was almost inevitable they should live to be old.
Kyoya had an uncle, though, who had died very young. "The stress," said his mother, frowning. The stress killed him.
Kyoya doesn't necessarily think he's under enough stress to kill him. That's self centered, and self pitying. But still, he has this feeling. He's not going to live past twenty-five.
It struck him when he was thirteen, staring down the long corridor of life ahead of him. A cold and dark hallway. It wouldn't matter much, he realized. Fuyumi would be upset, probably. But he's only third. He has nothing to live up to, really, it's only natural. It would be... an end to a life. But that life wouldn't mean much, in the grand context of things.
He feels it low in his stomach. This curdling empty anger. He will live a short and meaningless life. So why does he bother, making connections? Why does he bother with the stocks and the investments and calculations?
Yuuichi is twenty-six, now. He's just graduated medical school. Kyoya doesn't want to spend his whole life just in school. He wants to do Something before he dies. So that's out.
Akito is in business. That's something Kyoya knows he has a sense for. He can... he cannot outshine his brothers, but he can contribute that, before he dies. He feels fairly confident about that.
(And maybe, if he makes a name for himself in the business world, his family will notice his absence more. Maybe he can win them over with the hole he leaves behind.)
Then Tamaki Suoh comes barreling into his life. And Tamaki challenges him to try. To take over the family zaibatsu, to work and try for that which he believes is not allowed for him. And he starts to dream about doing More. He starts to think about it. Maybe his years aren't so numbered. Maybe he can push them away. And he plans for the future, pretends that it will work out. He works.
Then Tamaki says, let's start a host club. And the twenty-five year deadline finally seems to fall away.
The host club is on its second year when Fuyumi miscarries.
Mother is holding Fuyumi. Father has been kicked out of the room. He's too busy processing the loss of his grandchildren, and it's all coming out in medical jargon. Akito and Yuuichi's wife are near Fuyumi, holding her hands and petting her hair. Yuuichi himself is comforting Fuyumi's husband.
And Kyoya... is making tea.
He doesn't know what else to do. Fuyumi has been a pillar. He hasn't been particularly anticipating the new children, but he had never expected... this. It strikes him so hollowly, this feeling. They had been just an idea of children, he knows, but... this. This is brutal.
He hands Fuyumi a cup, and she cradles it so gingerly. Akito reaches across to steady it in her hand.
He's seen Fuyumi look lost before. When father says something cold, or when Kyoya does sometimes. But this is different.
He doesn't tell anyone. It's not the kind of thing that will come up in the papers, and if it did the entire force of the Ootori wrath would descend. Anger comes too easily to Ootoris in mourning.
He doesn't tell anyone. But Tamaki finds out, of course, because desperate turnings to old friends-turned-rivals also come easily to Ootoris in mourning. And Yoshio has very few people in his life who can understand him at a time like this.
Tamaki arrives with his father very quickly, apparently. In an instant, Tamaki is kissing Fuyumi's hand, holding her entire sorrow with his infinite heart. He is invaluable over the next week, during which he stays over every night. He plays piano and lifts her spirits and its altogether worth the price of letting him sleep in Kyoya's bed and take the first shower, actually.
Kyoya still has to go to school, though. Some word must have gotten out, because he's watched very closely by their peers. Nobody asks, and nobody offers condolences. So other than that, nobody knows.
School is fine. His grades don't suffer, just his sleep schedule.
"You're quieter than usual, senpai," notes Haruhi.
Honey nods emphatically, mouth pursed. The club is watching him closely, too. It feels different, though.
"Long day," he shrugs.
It's been the fourth long day in a row, and they all know it. Tamaki gently calls their attention away, though, and that's how they know to really drop it. If the Host King knows and isn't saying, it's being handled, probably.
Kyoya falls asleep in the car, as he's done every day this week. Groggy, he stumbles to his room and immediately collapses on the bed.
Fuyumi can't take another heartbreak, he thinks. And those fools at the host club can't either. He rolls over to stare at his ceiling. Which brings him back to that great barrier to the future that's returned:
He doesn't think he'll make it past twenty-five.
But he has people depending on him this time. Finances aside (and those are a big aside. Tamaki could run the club underground in a day if left unattended), there are some people who may actually miss him. He has senpais, kouhais, a best friend.
So, how does he fix it? How does he protect all the people he's accidentally led on into this idea of a Kyoya who is put together, who has far-reaching plans and will always be there for them. How does he cut the threads so there is no pain?
What would give them closure? What could help them move past the grief, what would make them sigh, and move on. Make them never mourn in the first place?
He starts writing.
Tamaki.
You won't be happy to read this, I think, so you'd better get someone to sit with you. I know you don't like to let people see you like this. But you know just as well that the people around you want to help. If you're really feeling obstinate about it, let me recommend you call Mori. Actually, consider it a final request. Call Mori. Ask him to sit with you while you read.
I've always expected this would happen. Since I turned thirteen, I've lived my whole life planning for its end.
You changed that about me, though. Thanks to you, I started to live day by day. I made bigger plans, knowing that even when I became unable to complete them, there was some lasting good in the world I put out there. Thanks to you, it didn't matter so much, that it would all end so soon. My life was empty, and you made it full. I feel content knowing I've concentrated all the joys of existence into the past three years. I've never felt the need to make up for how short it will all be, but I think it's been made up for.
I don't know which plans will have been put in place by the time you're reading this. But I do know that you will be alright. You have a far stronger heart than you deserve to bear, and you will bring so much more good. I've left some things for you, and I hope that you will use what little I have accrued to build that wondrous world further. All I would want is for you to be happy, mon ami.
I don't say this nearly enough. But I hope you know how grateful I am to you. Thank you.
Kyouya Ootori
It takes a lot out of him, writing this letter. It's hardly enough––definitely will need a few drafts. But he thinks... it's going to be okay. He hopes. He doesn't want to leave a void. He wants this life to open and close easily, smoothly. He wants the mourning not to cut, not like Fuyumi's mourning is. They don't deserve that. He just wants to be remembered fondly. He would even consent to being forgotten, after a time. That would be the mark of true healing, after all.
He writes a list of names: Fuyumi, Haruhi, Honey/Mori, Hikaru/Kaoru, Mother, Father, his brothers. This is what he'll work on, in between club affairs and investments. He'll get this done and finally be at peace about it all.
"What the hell." Hikaru is shaking.
"Hikaru?"
"Read this," he snarls, thrusting the little black book at him. "I need to go break something."
Kaoru casts a look at him, then his eyes flick over the page Hikaru had landed on.
At first, he thinks it might be a confession. Then there's call Mori, and since I turned thirteen and his stomach drops.
"No."
"Finish it," says Hikaru. The anger has left him. He looks miserable.
Kaoru does.
When he's done, he closes the book. Then, with carefully controlled movements, he raises it above his head and chucks it as hard as he can at the wall.
"That bastard."
"Is he sick? Why hasn't he mentioned it?"
"He's Kyoya-senpai, is why. Trying to be so untouchable."
"I could kill him," whispers Hikaru, then winces.
"Does Tamaki know?"
"You saw the way he was that day. He has to know."
Kaoru bites his lip.
"Let's call Haruhi."
She takes a little time to berate them for stealing the notebook, at first, but they're acting so furious she decides to get the reading on with.
Then she puts the book down.
"You shouldn't have taken this," she repeats, hollowly.
"What's wrong with him?"
"It's none of our business."
"Don't be stupid, Haruhi. You're just as upset as we are."
"We shouldn't have seen this. You'd better go put it back, before he notices."
"Are you really okay with that? He was just going to waste away- Without telling us! He was going to- to..."
"If Kyoya-senpai doesn't want to tell us, that's his prerogative. Don't you think he has enough to deal with? He clearly doesn't want people to worry about him."
"What doesn't Kyo-chan want us to know?" Honey chirps, bouncing in. Mori looks intrigued, too.
Before she can stop them, Kaoru throws them the book. She closes her mouth. Honey sends her a considering look, then opens it. Mori bends down to look over his shoulder.
When they're done, Mori straightens very slowly. Honey won't look up.
"Is... Is Kyo-chan sick?"
They shrug. Haruhi scuffs the toe of her shoes on the floor.
"Only Tono would know. You saw him covering for him the other day."
"So we don't know for sure?"
Everyone else looks around confused.
"Just a moment," says Honey. The two seniors are gone in a flash.
Despite being the orchestrator behind several kidnappings of his own, this is the first time Tamaki's ever been taken. His assailants sweep him up and away, leaving a surprised Kyoya in their wake.
"What's going on?" he squawks.
Mori and Honey set him on his feet in one of Ouran's courtyards. This one happens to be empty, Tamaki notes with some apprehension.
"So what's all this about?"
"Tamaki," says Mori.
Concern shoots through him.
"Is Kyo-chan sick?" asks Honey.
"What? Where'd this come from?"
They stare at him silently.
"No, he's not. His father would have definitely told mine if he was. But he's not sick."
"No underlying conditions or anything? A family history?"
"This is... weirdly invasive, for you two. No, not that I know of. The Ootori men are all in perfect health."
They give him a look at the men part, but don't ask more about it, which is good, because frankly even Tamaki would've killed Tamaki for revealing that out of the blue.
"Well then! That's one problem solved! And now we have a different problem. Tamaki, you'd better come up to the club room."
By the time Kyoya's finally relented and come up to the club room himself, Tamaki's almost all cried out.
"What..." the question falls off. "You took my notebook. I should've known," he growls, stalking toward the twins.
"Kyo-chan, we need to talk," says Honey.
"About what?" Wary, he slides the little black book back into his blazer where it belongs.
The senior just smiles, grabs his hand, and pulls him into the changing room.
"Takashi will keep them outside and distracted, so it's just us, ok?"
He hops up onto the table, so Kyoya sits cautiously on the couch, pushing aside a stack of costumes. His senpai takes a big breath, blows it out, and then looks up, face open and serious.
"Kyoya, have you been thinking about suicide?"
Shock. What? "No..." He speaks slowly.
"Have you been thinking about hurting yourself?"
"No," but now he's uncomfortable. Is that why they're all staring at him? Is that what they think is going on?
"Are you telling the truth?"
Honey's eyes are wide but there's no childlike wonder in them here. He simply looks directly at Kyoya, waiting and watching for the answer.
"I am not thinking about suicide or self harm," says Kyoya.
"And you're not sick, or anything, right?"
"No?" Thoroughly flabbergasted, but otherwise healthy.
"Okay! That's great. But, Kyo-chan, what was with that letter?"
"Letter? Ah, you read my..." Kyoya looks down. "Right. I should have known."
"Why did it sound like you thought you were going to die soon? Why would you think that?"
Shame floods him, suddenly. He has no excuses for his defect, no matter how hard he tries.
"There's no reason," he says, finally.
"But you still feel that way, don't you?"
His fists tighten and relax. "Yes," he says, ashamed, helpless.
Honey nods, solemn. Then: "Kyo-chan, can I give you a hug?"
Kyoya's mouth falls open. He freezes––but Honey has all the patience of a true master, when it counts. After several silent moments, he nods weakly.
Honey's affection crashes into Kyoya like a tsunami. He finds himself hugging back, clinging with a desperation he didn't know he possessed.
"I think," Honey murmurs into Kyoya's jacket, "that you're under a lot of pressure. Share the load, okay?"
Kyoya shudders. His senpai squeezes even tighter, until it stops, and pulls back with a serious look.
"You need more hugs!"
"Quite an official prescription," Kyoya murmurs.
Honey whaps him gently on the head for that, then hugs him one last time. Together, they push aside the changing room curtain and emerge. Kyoya has no time to straighten his jacket or wipe his eyes, but it hardly matters. The host club is all right next to the changing room, pretending not to be attentive by all whipping around with tearstained faces the minute they step out.
"Kyoya?" asks Tamaki. His voice quakes.
"Kyo-chan isn't dying. And he's not going to," Honey declares.
"But- What about-"
"Nope! We're not going to let him die!"
"So there's nothing... medically wrong?" Haruhi asks cautiously.
Kyoya's mouth tightens. "Not physically," he says.
Kaoru and Hikaru exchange a glance, eyes pinched.
"So it's a mental health problem?"
"Something like that," he mutters, looking down.
Suddenly, a hand on his arm. "We'll support you however we can, senpai," says Haruhi.
"-thanks," he chokes out.
"You know what Kyoya really needs?" Starts Honey, voice sweet in a way that just screams mischief, only Kyoya hardly has the means now to counteract it so all he can do is wait-
-for Tamaki to deliver the punchline: "A group hug!"
And surrounded in warmth, in pressure, in loving support, Kyoya thinks that maybe, if seventeen can be this good, it's worth holding out hope past twenty-five.