Write Me a Love Story (OHSHC)

XXVI: Room 179

March 15

Kyouya had one hand in his pocket and the other holding his notebook, scrutinizing everything from the gleaming white tiles under his feet to the impossibly clear glass of water that sat on the desk of the third floor's receptionist. He sighed lightly, following his brothers as they did a check on the progress of their father's hospital; not for care of the patients or workers, but strictly for business purposes. He effectively blocked out what they were saying, as he'd heard it all before, choosing instead to listen to the nearest conversation, being held by two nurses at the front desk.

"...It's time for the patient in room 179 to get her medication. We might have to see about increasing it; she's been out for almost 24 hours." Kyouya watched disinterestedly as the other nurse standing in front of the desk pulled out her clipboard, scanning it closely. She stopped after a moment, tapping a glossy nail on a particular part of the page.

"179. Who's in there, again?" She asked. The nurse behind the desk thought for a second, and then replied,

"Kaiyoka... S-something; I can't remember her last name, but it does start with an S. The young one, remember? She came in yesterday and has yet to even open her eyes." Kyouya's eyes widen, and he felt a volt of panic tear through his body. Friday, the day that she'd been missing from Language class. He strode away from his brothers and up to the desk, where both nurses looked up at him, surprised.

"Ootori-san?" One nurse said, looking surprised.

"Take me to her. I need to see Kaiyoka Sahni." Without a thought for how it would look or sound, he demanded to be taken to her. Neither of the nurses knew if he was technically allowed to request that, but neither was willing to be the one to say no to an Ootori family member (let alone the one most known for being disagreeable).

"Right this way, Ootori-san." The nurse who'd been standing silently led him down a hallway that seemed to last forever, and if it weren't for the fact that they were walking, Kyouya's foot would have been tapping a mile a minute. He felt nearly sick with panic, a feeling that was so foreign to him he wondered if he needed to be admitted to the hospital, himself. Panic turned to dread as they approached the door with the appropriate number label, and Kyouya had to stop himself from telling the nurse to keep the door shut and that he didn't need to see this patient, after all. He was terrified, but he wasn't about to let fear stop him. He couldn't.

Dread turned to a solid rock in his stomach when the nurse opened the door and they stepped inside. There she was, lying in bed completely motionless, so many wires connected to her arms and chest that he didn't know where to begin looking. Kyouya had to keep his composure for five minutes that felt, much like the walk to this room, eternal.

He stood by the door, a mask of indifference sealing off a churning mass of anxiety as the nurse putted around the room and did her daily medical procedures for Kaiyoka. His eyes followed her every move, and scrutiny was seeping out of his gaze. The nurse felt his gaze and had to refrain from shivering under it.

"What happened to her?" He demanded. She glanced over at him while checking Kaiyoka's vitals, answering promptly.

"I do not know very much, Ootori-san; I am not assigned to her, and only read her report a few moments ago. From what was written, she was attacked by someone at her school, and someone else found her and brought her into the school nurse. Her mother was the one who brought her here, since the school wasn't equipped for this level of injury. The full story is still a bit of a mystery; her mother was hysterical, Ootori-san. That is all I know." He nodded, processing that information to the best of his ability.

As soon as she had finished and excused herself, Kyouya exhaled and almost broke down. He crossed the room and sat down in a chair, inhaling deeply and resting his arms on his knees and not at all caring about how uncomfortable the chair was.

"What have you done to yourself, Kaiyoka?" He asked her unconscious form. "What happened to you?" Kyouya hung his head, aware of the tears that were already falling. He couldn't even bring himself to ask the real question ("who did this to you?") because he felt as though he already knew.

"What have I done to you?" The realization of how much Kaiyoka truly meant to Kyouya hit him, and he began crying. He conceded to himself; he realized how much he'd missed her in the time she'd been gone, how much it broke him every time he had ignored her in passing, how much it broke him when he saw the hurt look in her eyes the first time, and how it had faded to acceptance after the fourth. He realized how empty the host club felt without her, whether she was speaking to the girls or writing by herself.

He missed her swinging ponytail, her pen always moving in her hand, her smile, the way her eyes shone through her glasses, the light tapping of her fingers on her notebook. He missed how she didn't care about the looks other people gave her- he envied that- and how she was quick to help those who needed it. He wanted to kick himself for how he'd treated her, for how he'd left Kaiyoka alone because his own selfish desires got in the way of the one person that had become more important to him than his aspirations.

Kyouya stood up and walked over to her bedside. He looked down at her, face pale and gaunt, both eyes black, one arm slung in a cast and the corresponding leg suspended from machinery attached to the bed and wrapped tightly. She looked barely alive under the fluorescent light, and Kyouya would have convinced himself that she was actually dead without the relatively steady beeping of her heart monitor. He couldn't stop himself as he reached out for her hand, nor did he want to. For once, his hand was the warm one, wrapping up her slender fingers and delicate palm around his own, larger hand. He gripped her hand tightly, trying to anchor her to consciousness. Taking a deep breath, Kyouya tried his best to pull himself together.

Kyouya spared a glance at her bedside table, noticing the startlingly bent frame of her glasses sitting atop a pile of shattered glass. It looked like she had taken a direct hit to the face, and all because he hadn't been there to protect her.

She didn't even need physical protection, and especially not from someone like him. She could defend herself just fine, which begged the question of how this had happened. It must have been unfair, and that was what Kyouya could defend against. He didn't work in absolutes. Everything he did was subtle and calculated, and if he'd spent more time with Kaiyoka, perhaps he would have an idea of who had done this.

Unable to handle it, he released her hand gently and sat down where he was standing, his back against the hard metal of the machine-operated bed.

Kyouya sat there and cried. Like a child, he might have said had he been watching himself, but he didn't care. He didn't care about the company, and he didn't care about his father's words or expectations or requests. He couldn't put down his pride long enough to apologize, and look where that had left him! For once, Kyouya was going to be his own person, the person who he was around Kaiyoka, who he was outside of the company of anyone influential. Seeing Kaiyoka in front of him, deathly still and thin, was the biggest wake-up call of his life. She meant so much more to him than he ever thought possible. She'd snuck her way into his heart and nestled among his feelings, and he allowed it. Embraced it, even. There was no one who could give him that warm feeling just by a glance, who could make him smile without it being forced, like Kaiyoka. And he'd taken advantage of that. It had all ended up with him in a hospital sitting against a bed that she was lying on, and he couldn't do anything about it.

"Kaiyoka." He allowed her name to spill from his lips. It sounded so inviting, even when it was shaky with tears. It was a name he had refused to hear for far too long. "I'm sorry."