BLOOM [OHSHC]

Chapter 20 - The Beach Episode

🏵

I woke to a beam of sun warming my cheeks and the smell of pancakes.

It had been a long time since I slept so well, so soundly, so I took the time to bask in my bed, snuggly and warm under the downy duvet. The memories of the night before rattled around in my mind, little flashes of off-key karaoke, of sugary milkshakes, of crazy selfies and endless laughter; the stress and chaos of the night barely even mattered anymore. A satisfied hum came up from my throat as I dug in deep, closing my eyes once more. No filming, no interviews, no responsibilities... just a nice, relaxing day at home with my friends.

"Took you long enough, Kimura."

At first, I thought I was probably dreaming. Why would he be here of all places? And why did his voice sound so close? There was no way—

I cracked an eye open, only to find a realistic replica of Kyoya Ootori sitting in the stiff armchair in the corner of my room, dressed in what he probably thought were normal vacation clothes—khaki shorts and a Tommy Bahama-style button-up—but likely cost more than both of our tuitions combined.

Nope. No way. Definitely dreaming. I rolled my eyes and turned over, putting my back to him. "You're not real. Go away, dream-Kyoya."

He chuckled in that annoying way that real-Kyoya does. I imagined him crossing his arms and legs, tightening up his personal security (to keep people out in a physical way) while still trying to avoid wrinkling his outfit (like only a responsible trust fund kid would). "I'm a figment of your dream now, am I?" he said smoothly, "What possible reason could you have for dreaming about me, Michiyo?"

Sighing, I said, "You're right. This is probably a nightmare, since you're here. Have you come to steal my cake and yell at me for doing normal human things and to rub your better grades in my face again, Kyoya?"

"That's exactly right, Michiyo. Great job, gold star."

His unnervingly sarcastic tone poked and prodded at my half-asleep psyche. He wasn't... he couldn't actually be here, could he? He was supposed to be back in Japan, safe and sound and far far away from me while I was still a little mad at him.

"Please tell me that you're not real," I groaned, "Please tell me that you're just a dream and that you didn't really fly all the way here to babysit the club."

"Why, Michiyo... I'd be lying if I said those things."

FUCK.

I shot straight up in bed, staring him down with my best attempt at his laser-vision. "Why the fuck are you here, Kyoya?"

"You know precisely why. You said it yourself," he said, smirking. "I came to babysit the club. And, in case you've forgotten, that has included you for the last four months. Now, get up and get dressed. That ratty old t-shirt is doing you no favors, and your hair desperately needs to make acquaintance with a comb." With that unnecessary roast delivered, he stood and left my room, leaving it warm and empty and pancake-scented like it had been before.

Burying my face in my pillow, I screamed as hard as I could for two, three, maybe ten seconds. Why was he so infuriating? How dare he show up here without my permission? What possible reason could he have for looking like a model while on fucking vacation???

After my heart rate returned to normal, I swung myself out of bed and staggered to the shower, more than ready to wash the memory of that morning, and of the night before, from my mind as soon as humanly possible.

As I stood in the slowly-fogging bathroom, I tried thinking positively; my day off was going to be relaxing and safe and uncomplicated, despite Kyoya's sudden appearance. We were going to chill and have fun and do nothing but binge ice cream and watch an obscene amount of movies.