Keep Hangin' On

Dissolution

Tuesday, September 16th

. . .

Kyoya.

The man was unreadable.

Which should've come as no surprise; he had always been a man of few words. But as Kyoya stared at the back of the gentle giant in front of him, it was almost scary how little emotion he showed. His back wasn't tense with anticipation, nor his lips pressed with anger, nor his brow creased with worry. It was like there was a perfect nothingness that took over the man. He doesn't know what to expect, Kyoya knew. When he had called him to a meeting under the premise of 'urgent information regarding Haruhi,' he had tried to be as vague as possible -- but his tone had been indicative of nothing but bad news.

When the two entered the room, Kyoya realized that it was not the same as when he had left it. It had been cleaned hastily: the bloodied pillows were nowhere to be found, the bed was tidied up as best as two sheltered children of wealth could get it, and the previously drawn curtains had since been parted.

Tamaki stood wringing his hands by the windowsill, and Hikaru sat in a chair by the bed, head in hands. Both turned to him in alarm once the door opened. While the latter Host shrunk back in terror upon seeing his companion, Tamaki's frame shook with anger, and he pointed at the man. Both Kyoya and Hikaru moved to intercede if necessary, but he was able to reign himself in, unclear emotions clouding his eyes.

Takashi took in this exchange silently, and remained silent for some time after, such that the room's other occupants, save Kyoya, flinched when he finally did raise his voice.

"Where is Haruhi?"

Knowing that Tamaki would not answer, Hikaru stalled. The emotion in the man's words choked him, reminded him of what he had done, how he had robbed this man. He didn't know what he had been hoping for from Haruhi -- forgiveness? -- but it all seemed so distant now. He couldn't take it anymore; he just wanted to be done with it all.

"In the hospital, probably." His voice sounded like crap. He had been overusing it lately, and the crying didn't help.

. . .

Takashi.

The man shook with indecision. I want to see her, his heart whined, starved of the sight of her cinnamon locks bobbing as they walked side-by-side. Forcing a sense of calm into his system, he stopped himself from turning back. I have to know what went on in here.

"Why?"

A long pause preceded Hikaru's response, a patchwork of excuses that feebly hid what both of them knew -- everyone in the room knew -- he really wanted. His eyebrows drew back in anger as pieces of the story fell together. Wanted to apologize -- fell down the stairs -- didn't look too bad -- for her own good -- patch her up ourselves -- apologize again --

Takashi turned and left.

From outside, he used the wall to support his sagging weight as he held his head in his hands. I can't believe -- he thought to his misery when he sat alone at the restaurant where they had agreed to meet. Haruhi is not a person who would just do that! He thought to his cousin's words when he heard Haruhi and Kaoru talking in the infirmary -- you have to trust her, Takashi. He knew he was right, and yet, why couldn't I trust her enough to know that something was wrong?

He heard them begin to fight. He heard Tamaki insist that it wasn't supposed to be like this, and that they just wanted to apologize. He heard Hikaru apologize over and over and he heard Kyoya holding him back from reaching him. He heard the door slam closed and the footsteps that approached him.

There can be no relationship without trust, he had once heard Kyoya mutter under his breath, almost in premonition of the club's demise.

Face pale with self-admonishment, he looked up at Kyoya, who had silently watched his reaction with eyes hidden. I have to apologize. "Take me to her."

Kyoya nodded. "The car is outside."

. . .

He was brought to a waiting room where he saw a familiar face. If the redhead heard him enter, he gave no indication. Ranka's head was buried in his hands and he was dressed up in his work clothes.

Takashi took a seat a few spaces away, far enough to allow the man his privacy, but still close enough to offer his support. Expecting to wait in silence for the foreseeable future, Takashi finally leaned back into the seat, having slowly been drained by the day's events. As the minutes ticked away, he berated his rashness at having left without hearing the full story. I probably won't even be allowed to see her, he lamented.

I can't believe this.

"It's reassuring to know that you care about my daughter enough to be driven to tears," Ranka spoke, pulling Takashi out of his mind. He was surprised to see that the man was right; he had been too absorbed in his thoughts to notice the tears that had begun leaving tracks on his cheeks.

Surprised and a little embarrassed, he greeted the man whose whimsicality he had yet to fully understand. Even now, he could not fathom the smile on the same face that had been grieving mere moments ago.

"Takashi-kun," his features softened to match his tone as he said the name. "Thank you for always taking care of my daughter."

The gratitude in the man's voice shook Takashi to the core. No... I haven't been taking care of her at all. As much as he didn't want to make light of Ranka's sincerity, Takashi began to shake his head. Maybe if he had trusted her more, this would've played out differently. He couldn't even trust her, after all. There was so much more I could've done to--

"There was nothing you could've done."

His head snapped up to meet Ranka's at ease gaze. How could he say so with so much certainty? He didn't know how dysfunctional a character he was. Surely, if he did, he wouldn't have allowed him to court his daughter in the first place. He tore away from the uncomfortable gaze.

"Takashi-kun, she was away from us for only a few days. Don't you think that she can take care of herself?"

"...Mm." He grunted as he waited for Ranka's parental logic to make sense in his mind.

"So did I. And I still do, in fact. I have full faith that, if it was any other day, she would've gone about it the same way, and come home safely. It's not her fault, and it's not yours." His voice cracked, interrupting his speech, to which he laughed, Takashi's attention returning to him. "Aw, I was so close to finishing, too."

Do you think that you are the only one who feels guilty? He thought, staring at the tears that dripped from the redhead's cheeks. But... He couldn't have done anything.

And neither could you.

He threw himself to the floor once the thought hit him, feeling infinitely guilty for forcing Ranka to comfort him when he was probably feeling even more pain than he was at his own inability to help the broken girl inside the emergency room. With a graciousness that seemed too inhuman for any one person to possess, Ranka bent down to ruffle his hair.

And they cried.