My days should not be this long.
Perhaps my new pictures seems a little harsh, but I'm trying to learn how to say no to people. Not because I want to, but because there is only so much time in each day. And some things need to become more important to me.
Not that it seems as though anyone reads my page, but don't expect any updates for a little while. Lots of tests and group projects coming up this week.
So to tide you (invisible) readers over...
Title: Commitment
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Characters: Haruhi/Kyouya
Prompt: 060.Commit
Word Count: 1,180
Rating: M (Just to be safe)
He was fastidiously clean, and Haruhi knew it. Any place he stayed for a prolonged amount of time got his attention, and that included his wife’s office. It was almost tradition to clean up after her when he came in, waiting for her to return from court.
Technically, Kyouya was supposed to be at the hospital today, distributing pay checks marked with raises; the hospital’s revenue was up 2.6 million yen, and it was only fair to give the workers their part in it. As usual, though, he had been ahead of schedule, and sent them out the day before so he could pay a surprise visit to his wife for lunch.
Now he was wondering if all the forethought had been for nothing, if all these efforts to see her had actually been in vain. Maybe he had failed at this weeks ago; months ago. Perhaps she couldn’t see through his cold, impersonal mask after all. The world seemed to tilt precariously.
His heart, small organ that it was (he was an Ootori), felt weak and painful.
Kyouya Ootori held in his hand one of his wife’s files; papers for divorce, for one Haruhi Ootori.
He fumbled for a chair and sank into it, not bothering with keeping up appearances now. He pulled his glasses off, tossing them carelessly onto the desk as he brought the paper closer to inspect.
All of her information was filled out, all correct. He felt a chill race down his back.
It just needed his signature to be complete.
Feeling strangely detached, he wondered if it would be presumptuous of him to sign now, and hand it over with his usual nonchalance, hiding the enormous hole she had blown in his chest.
As he contemplated reaching for a pen, the door opened behind him, and the clean scent of roses drifted in.
Another pain hit him as the scent registered; that silly perfume Tamaki had insisted on buying her for her last birthday. She had wryly told him later that she had grown fond of the flowers, because they reminded her of the years in the Host Club.
He wondered if Tamaki knew.
“Kyouya? What are you doing here?” she asked, walking around him at her usual brisk pace, setting her briefcase down by the desk with a sigh.
“The proceedings are taking a lot longer than I expected for a simple property suit,” she commented, rifling through the papers on her desk.
“Hm?” she paused in her searching, looking confused. “Kyouya?” she glanced up at him, taking in for the first time his expression, and his slumped posture in the chair.
Haruhi almost tripped over her own feet as she rushed around to him, eyes suddenly worried.
“Is everything all right? You look terrible. Did something happen at the hospital?”
Mutely, he held out the sheaf of papers to her, feeling more removed from the situation than before, while being, at the same time, highly aware of her every breath, her every movement.
She looked, surprised, at the papers, and frowned briefly at them, as though irritated.
“I was just looking for this, I needed to…” she trailed off, eyes suddenly lighting up as though in realization.
“Oh. Oh dear,” she looked both horrified and embarrassed. “Kyouya, dear, you didn’t happen to… um, read this, did you?” she asked, though it was obvious by then that he had.
“I’m such an idiot,” she muttered, and then looked panicked as he slumped further, eyes pained.
“No, wrong thing; what I meant is, I shouldn’t have put my name on this thing. That is, I should have put Jane Doe, or something,” she rushed out, grabbing at his hand. “Kyouya, I’m not filing for divorce.”
It was like the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, though a very distant light. Still, he sat up a bit.
“You’re not.”
Haruhi shook her head, looking quite frantic. “No, of course not. I would never… well, theoretically if I was, I would talk to you first,” she inserted, always practical, “but I’m not planning on it… Kyouya?”
It was the worried tone that brought hope spinning back, and he met her eyes with tentative relief.
“Why is all of your information on it, then?” he asked, not quite ready to trust her yet. The world had yet to balance for him.
She moved to sit across from him to explain, but kept a hold of his hand. “There’s a client of mine who’s trying to file for divorce, one of the worse cases of abuse I’ve seen yet, but she’s never dealt with legalities or litigation before. I thought it would help her to see an example of how to fill the forms out, but since I didn’t have any examples on hand, I just, well… filled it out myself.”
It was a relief to breath again, Kyouya found, and tried to convince his muscles that they could relax too. Somewhere in her explanation, he had become unbearably tense… and his wife was still talking.
“I really am sorry, Kyouya. I never dreamed you would see this, or begin to think they were for… us. I just thought it would be fine to put my name on it, since I assumed I would never actually fill something like this out. Presumptuous of me, I guess.”
It was the only thing he had needed to hear, and suddenly his faith was back ten-fold, bringing a foreign rush of gratitude and thanks.
“Good,” he said, voice firm and final, and Haruhi stopped, blinking at him in bewilderment.
“Okay…” she agreed, leaning back as though to pull away, out of his personal space.
Instead, he reached forward and pulled her to her feet, all but shoving her out the door before himself.
“Kyouya?” she asked, now completely baffled as to his behavior.
“We’re going home,” he told her, still maneuvering her down the hallway. “The secretary can tell all your clients to come in the morning.”
Bemused, she did as he had said, and let him drag her downstairs to the family limo.
Haruhi gave him another questioning glance as they slid inside, and as soon as the door was shut, she was tugged mercilessly into his lap, only to receive the most intense embrace of her life.
Several minutes later she was ready to do whatever he said, dazed from the overwhelming attentions of a husband who was usually so circumspect.
“And that was for…?” she asked, hoping that an explanation would stop him long enough for them to make it upstairs. For the first time since her honeymoon, she was grateful that Kyouya had insisted on a house, rather than an apartment. The neighbors would have been scandalized by his behavior, and her appearance.
“That was for being married to me,” he explained, sounding quite arrogant. Her lips quirked in amusement, turning into a quick laugh as he swept her out of the car and through the front door.
“And this,” he whispered in her ear as he climbed up the stairs, “is for our future.”
Not that it seems as though anyone reads my page, but don't expect any updates for a little while. Lots of tests and group projects coming up this week.
So to tide you (invisible) readers over...
Title: Commitment
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Characters: Haruhi/Kyouya
Prompt: 060.Commit
Word Count: 1,180
Rating: M (Just to be safe)
He was fastidiously clean, and Haruhi knew it. Any place he stayed for a prolonged amount of time got his attention, and that included his wife’s office. It was almost tradition to clean up after her when he came in, waiting for her to return from court.
Technically, Kyouya was supposed to be at the hospital today, distributing pay checks marked with raises; the hospital’s revenue was up 2.6 million yen, and it was only fair to give the workers their part in it. As usual, though, he had been ahead of schedule, and sent them out the day before so he could pay a surprise visit to his wife for lunch.
Now he was wondering if all the forethought had been for nothing, if all these efforts to see her had actually been in vain. Maybe he had failed at this weeks ago; months ago. Perhaps she couldn’t see through his cold, impersonal mask after all. The world seemed to tilt precariously.
His heart, small organ that it was (he was an Ootori), felt weak and painful.
Kyouya Ootori held in his hand one of his wife’s files; papers for divorce, for one Haruhi Ootori.
He fumbled for a chair and sank into it, not bothering with keeping up appearances now. He pulled his glasses off, tossing them carelessly onto the desk as he brought the paper closer to inspect.
All of her information was filled out, all correct. He felt a chill race down his back.
It just needed his signature to be complete.
Feeling strangely detached, he wondered if it would be presumptuous of him to sign now, and hand it over with his usual nonchalance, hiding the enormous hole she had blown in his chest.
As he contemplated reaching for a pen, the door opened behind him, and the clean scent of roses drifted in.
Another pain hit him as the scent registered; that silly perfume Tamaki had insisted on buying her for her last birthday. She had wryly told him later that she had grown fond of the flowers, because they reminded her of the years in the Host Club.
He wondered if Tamaki knew.
“Kyouya? What are you doing here?” she asked, walking around him at her usual brisk pace, setting her briefcase down by the desk with a sigh.
“The proceedings are taking a lot longer than I expected for a simple property suit,” she commented, rifling through the papers on her desk.
“Hm?” she paused in her searching, looking confused. “Kyouya?” she glanced up at him, taking in for the first time his expression, and his slumped posture in the chair.
Haruhi almost tripped over her own feet as she rushed around to him, eyes suddenly worried.
“Is everything all right? You look terrible. Did something happen at the hospital?”
Mutely, he held out the sheaf of papers to her, feeling more removed from the situation than before, while being, at the same time, highly aware of her every breath, her every movement.
She looked, surprised, at the papers, and frowned briefly at them, as though irritated.
“I was just looking for this, I needed to…” she trailed off, eyes suddenly lighting up as though in realization.
“Oh. Oh dear,” she looked both horrified and embarrassed. “Kyouya, dear, you didn’t happen to… um, read this, did you?” she asked, though it was obvious by then that he had.
“I’m such an idiot,” she muttered, and then looked panicked as he slumped further, eyes pained.
“No, wrong thing; what I meant is, I shouldn’t have put my name on this thing. That is, I should have put Jane Doe, or something,” she rushed out, grabbing at his hand. “Kyouya, I’m not filing for divorce.”
It was like the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, though a very distant light. Still, he sat up a bit.
“You’re not.”
Haruhi shook her head, looking quite frantic. “No, of course not. I would never… well, theoretically if I was, I would talk to you first,” she inserted, always practical, “but I’m not planning on it… Kyouya?”
It was the worried tone that brought hope spinning back, and he met her eyes with tentative relief.
“Why is all of your information on it, then?” he asked, not quite ready to trust her yet. The world had yet to balance for him.
She moved to sit across from him to explain, but kept a hold of his hand. “There’s a client of mine who’s trying to file for divorce, one of the worse cases of abuse I’ve seen yet, but she’s never dealt with legalities or litigation before. I thought it would help her to see an example of how to fill the forms out, but since I didn’t have any examples on hand, I just, well… filled it out myself.”
It was a relief to breath again, Kyouya found, and tried to convince his muscles that they could relax too. Somewhere in her explanation, he had become unbearably tense… and his wife was still talking.
“I really am sorry, Kyouya. I never dreamed you would see this, or begin to think they were for… us. I just thought it would be fine to put my name on it, since I assumed I would never actually fill something like this out. Presumptuous of me, I guess.”
It was the only thing he had needed to hear, and suddenly his faith was back ten-fold, bringing a foreign rush of gratitude and thanks.
“Good,” he said, voice firm and final, and Haruhi stopped, blinking at him in bewilderment.
“Okay…” she agreed, leaning back as though to pull away, out of his personal space.
Instead, he reached forward and pulled her to her feet, all but shoving her out the door before himself.
“Kyouya?” she asked, now completely baffled as to his behavior.
“We’re going home,” he told her, still maneuvering her down the hallway. “The secretary can tell all your clients to come in the morning.”
Bemused, she did as he had said, and let him drag her downstairs to the family limo.
Haruhi gave him another questioning glance as they slid inside, and as soon as the door was shut, she was tugged mercilessly into his lap, only to receive the most intense embrace of her life.
Several minutes later she was ready to do whatever he said, dazed from the overwhelming attentions of a husband who was usually so circumspect.
“And that was for…?” she asked, hoping that an explanation would stop him long enough for them to make it upstairs. For the first time since her honeymoon, she was grateful that Kyouya had insisted on a house, rather than an apartment. The neighbors would have been scandalized by his behavior, and her appearance.
“That was for being married to me,” he explained, sounding quite arrogant. Her lips quirked in amusement, turning into a quick laugh as he swept her out of the car and through the front door.
“And this,” he whispered in her ear as he climbed up the stairs, “is for our future.”