BLOOM [OHSHC]

Chapter 15 - When It Rains, It Pours

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A strange sound shook me out of my dream.

And thank goodness, too. I don't know how much longer I could've handled seeing the host club in ballgowns. I mean, Haruhi was obviously gorgeous, and strangely enough, so was Tamaki... but Mori in a ballgown is something I will never erase from my retinas.

Very boney.

Summer sun blinded me as soon as I opened my stinging eyes, piercing through a wall of undeterred windows. I hissed and threw an arm over my face, regretting waking up in the first place. But something caught my attention, enticed me further out of the haze of sleep...

A smell.

I hesitated to remove the arm protecting my eyes, but reached out with my other senses. Cologne, peppery and familiar but unnamable through the fog of sleep. A strange blanket under my fingers, the bed itself much comfier than my own. Only the taste of dreams and sleep lingered in my mouth. And again... that sound. Listening harder, pushing myself, I finally placed it.

Snoring, soft and muffled.

Too sleepy to be scared, I sat up and blinked through the brightness, willing my eyes to adjust. The bedroom around me was definitely not mine, painted in muted grays and whites. Bookshelves lined most of the walls, but otherwise, the room was sparsely decorated. A glass half-wall separated the bed from another part of the room, but I didn't have the energy to explore just yet.

I was too distracted by the sleeping boy in the armchair in the corner of the room.

Kyoya.

The memory of the night previous flooded back, knocking the air from my lungs.

A run. The convenience store. Mochi.

My call with Kyoya. His sweatshirt.

The stalker.

A shiver rolled over me, cold as ice in my veins. My eyes burned, contacts still in, and I searched frantically for my phone. If this was Kyoya's room - Kyoya's house! - that meant I spent the night, which meant Mei was probably freaking out.

Worst sister ever.

When I couldn't find the stupid thing in the twisted down comforter, I stood and checked under the bed before wandering Kyoya's room, careful not to touch his stuff. Buzzing met my ears as I got closer to him, though, and I hesitated, eyeing his crumpled, sleeping form. Kyoya had his legs pulled to his chest in the chair, curled up in a ball. He gripped my phone in one hand, his own phone in the other, and one of them seemed to be vibrating in his palm. His glasses rested on the nearest bookshelf.

He looked young. Peaceful.

The most vulnerable I'd ever seen him.

And then my phone rang.

Sharp electronic music screeched out of my phone, bass and treble getting horribly lost in the shitty speakers, but loud and awful enough to wake up Kyoya with a jolt and terrify me, sending me to my ass with a bone-jarring thunk. Kyoya and I stared at each other for a long, awkward moment; he seemed to remember more and more as we sat there, as his gaze slowly focused on my face.

"Do you want your glasses?" I asked softly, worried I'd frighten him.

He sleepily raised a hand to his face - checking that, indeed, his glasses were not there - and nodded. I scrambled to my feet and crossed to the bookshelf, stuffing down my surprise at this side of Kyoya. He was definitely not a morning person.