Growing Spoons

The Pack Mule

Tamaki really was freaking out this time. They could all see it in the way he paced around the clubroom, chewing his usually perfectly manicured nails down to the nub. He was always... on edge when a member of their little found family was sick, but it was rare that he was this worried. Takashi could understand why, given that Kyoya rarely missed school despite his condition, and had to be in a lot of pain.

It didn't help that Kyoya had only managed to send a single, two-word text after a few lessons of Tamaki pulling his hair out. Just a simple, "no spoons". No capitalisation, no punctuation. It wasn't meant to be comprehensive, just an explanation as to why he wasn't there so that Tamaki didn't assume he was kidnapped and left dead in a remote ditch somewhere.

Takashi, while he felt bad for Kyoya... He almost expected it to happen soon. Perhaps not today, but Kyoya ran himself so ragged, constantly, that it was no wonder he didn't have a single spoon. It was like in martial arts; you reserve energy for later, try and win as quickly as possible. The best fights don't last an hour, they should take as little time as physically possible, and Kyoya was constantly fighting. Constantly exhausted, too, if the dark circles under his eyes, cutting stark through the milky pallor of his skin, were any indication. Even if he was hurting, Mori was glad he was at least taking today to rest.

"Boss, if you're so worried then maybe you should just go," Hikaru sighed, raking a hand through his hair, looking rather uncomfortable and out of his depth, "After all, you're not going to charm anyone if you're acting like you should be committed –"

Hikaru let out a grunt, cutting himself off, when Kaoru punched him in the arm. His lips pulled into a disgruntled pout, eyes narrowing on his brother, who carried on as if nothing happened; as per usual. Takashi only bit back the urge to roll his eyes, thinking through a list of possible actions they could take. As irritating as Hikaru could be, he did have a point; Tamaki stressing would only make things worse, as Kyoya would inevitably push himself to assure Tamaki he was fine – just tired – and end up making everything worse for himself.

So, who could go? Not Mitsukuni, he knew that much. Despite his love for his cousin, he remembered what it was like to be.... "cared for" by him when he last caught the flu. Honestly? He wouldn't wish that experience on his worst enemy. It was rather annoying, if he was honest, that his older cousin couldn't seem to do him the favour of acting his age while he was indisposed, but things were what they were.

"Should I go?" Kaoru asked, "Kyoya-senpai and I are friends after all, and I'd like to make sure he's alright..."

"I think Kyoya-senpai would rather you stay here," Haruhi chimed in, obviously in thought herself, "You and Hikaru are an act, and I think he'd prefer us to make as much profit as we can. It'll take some stress off him when he goes back to budgeting again..."

"What about you, Haru-chan?" Mitsukuni piped up, his cheerful tone scraping uncomfortably against the tone of the room. While Haruhi was logical, and Mori honestly trusted her to take care of his junior, there was also the fact that they probably weren't close enough for that. It'd just be awkward for both herself and Kyoya, probably. They got along just fine, but being so openly vulnerable in front of someone? That was different.

"I should probably stay too," She shrugged, "I have a lot of customers booked today, so Kyoya-senpai would probably prefer it if I was here to do my job. Sooner I pay off the debt, the better, right?"

Not really, but Takashi couldn't blame her for not noticing that.

"I can go," He volunteered, surprising even himself with the offer. It wasn't like he and Kyoya knew everything about each other, but they were friends. They shared comfortable silences, shoulder to shoulder as Kyoya completed whatever task he set out to do while he either read or kept an eye on Mitsukuni. He was, essentially, furniture, and so very few people would miss him for an afternoon.

"If you think Kyoya would be okay with it, Mori-senpai," Tamaki nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He liked having a plan in mind, even if he wasn't that organised most of the time. He was trustworthy, also; one of those people who always seemed to get the caretaker role – not that he minded – but he was the best choice.

He simply nodded in response, shouldering his satchel once more and turned to leave, only to be stopped by a tugging on his sleeve. Turning, Mitsukuni stood there, holding a plate of rich chocolate cake in one hand. Objectively, it looked delicious, if a bit sickly; covered in a thick layer of buttercream which drowned how fluffy the expensive cake should be. It looked like it was enough to glue someone's mouth closed. In other words, he knew exactly what his cousin would say, and he disagreed.

"You should take this for Kyo-chan!" Honey chirped. He knew it.

Kneeling down to Honey's level, like he'd do for a child, he took a deep breath. "Mitsukuni, Kyoya-kun doesn't enjoy sweets," He pointed out, "There wouldn't be any point in taking him something so sickly..."

It didn't seem like that completely worked, unfortunately. Mitsukuni's eyes widened, and he had the slightest hint of a glassy sheen to them. Not teary, but still not great. So, it seemed like talking like adults was off the table for today, amazing.

"But cake always makes me feel better –" Your experiences are not universal, "So Kyo-chan would like it, yes?"

Just taking it would probably be less work than dealing with him. Despite Mitsukuni being family and all, he couldn't really be too bothered to put that much effort in at that moment. After all, he'd much rather go and make sure Kyoya was alright, rather than pandering to his cousin who honestly didn't need it. He just nodded, accepting the cake and turning to leave, only to be stopped by Tamaki.

"Sorry, Mori-senpai," He began, holding out a thick wad of paper, "Would you mind giving this to him? I did my best to get as much information down without using shorthand, so he'll be able to use them..."

At least that was actually needed. He took the papers, neatly sliding the papers into the satchel, attempting not to bend or tear them. While he tended to accidentally crumple loose papers in his bag – the reason why he preferred binders and books – he knew that Kyoya would like the neatest copy possible. After all, they'd all seen how prettily he liked to keep his notes and reminders; bullet journals and the like crowded a few bookshelves, a pot plant or two adding a "splash of colour" to the admittedly minimalist room.

"Oh, Mori-senpai... Maybe you could give Kyoya this? For me?" Kaoru asked, handing him a large t-rex plush that he seemed to have scavenged from the back room. He couldn't remember Mitsukuni having such a thing, but he supposed that after these few years, host club themes get a little hazy in your memory.

It was soft in his hands, baby blue fabric fuzzy and intermittently patterned with green. A goofy looking thing, really. Its jaw was slightly crooked, felt teeth laying flat against its red gums and tongue, and its eyes almost looked crossed, despite being on the sides of its head. The body seemed to be decently sewn together, but it was just kind of... ugly and unnecessary. After all, it was Kyoya, and the only one who had these "gifts", who seemed to be remembering that, was surprisingly Tamaki. Still, he tucked the toy under his arm, not wanting to upset Kaoru and have Hikaru coming after him; it'd be easier to just get going.

Pushing open the doors to the music room, a sea of clientele almost swamped him, asking if he was going to see Kyoya and (horror of all horrors) if he could take these "very special", handmade, get well soon cards to him. It was a sweet gesture, but he really wasn't in the mood to carry all those ultimately meaningless things. Still, he accepted every one, shifting the heavy stacks around in his arms in an attempt to balance them all.

Luckily, the sea of fans parted, allowing him to walk through with a few nods of acknowledgement, making his way down the mostly abandoned halls and out of the front door... to remember that he and Mitsukuni walked to and from school. There wasn't a car, and he didn't really fancy calling one up for something ultimately small; knowing that the staff had actual tasks to complete without pandering to his whims.

Besides, there was a bus stop not too far down the road. He'd seen Haruhi use the bus before, and it seemed simple enough...