Horrifying Martyrdom

A/N: While this would probably be okay to read as a stand-alone, it's probably best if you go and read my other fic, Blue Blood Tastes the Same, first. 

***

Kaoru wasn't sure what led up to this.

Well, that was a lie. He knew full well, but the issue was that he hated to think about it; hated knowing that Kyoya was so thin and delicate for a reason. Because what ghoul starves themself? It doesn't make sense, especially for those in the position they were. If they chose, they didn't have to hunt or see the poor unfortunate who'd be that night's dinner. They could be as removed from it all as they wanted and didn't have to worry about anything other than eating what was provided.

But there had always been something off about the Ootori boys, according to the gossips who whispered amongst their friends. Picky eaters, strange habits, small meals. A delicate constitution. Kyoya was by far the worst, but the story always changed when he was asked. He didn't like others watching him eat, he felt like his favourite cuts would cause something of a stir (that got a laugh, at least), he just wasn't hungry, he was sick.

Yoshio seemed to stick to the excuse that his son was ill, the older ladies of their standing – the ones who weren't ghouls – cooing over him and treating him like a china doll. In a sense, standing outside the bathroom door now, Kyoya having locked himself inside... The man wasn't wrong. But he had a feeling, an instinctual pull at his gut, that told him it wasn't the whole truth.

His knuckles rapped lightly against the door, hoping Kyoya would at least acknowledge him despite the gagging and stuttering breaths he could hear within. He saw Kyoya's eyes briefly as he rushed into the restroom; wide, beautiful, bleeding into stunning black and crimson as he ran.

"Are you alright in there?" He inquired, pressing up against the solid wood as if this were some sort of video game, and he could magically glitch through to the other side.

He swore he could hear gasps of pain added to the mix, hissed through gritted teeth, and it scared him. Should he call Yoshio? One of Kyoya's brothers? They were doctors, after all, and probably knew what the hell was going on with him. He was only supposed to be there to discuss the new menu, but that was when things took a turn for the worst and now –

Oh. Oh God, that couldn't be it, could it? All that talk of food, flavours, textures... Something hollowed in the pit of his abdomen, some organs falling into the wrong places and twisting into knots. Especially when he only heard Kyoya's unsteady breathing grow harder. More laboured. He futilely grabbed the door handle, twisting and hoping and wishing that it would unlock and put his mind more at ease, but it obviously didn't.

"Don't come in..." Came a quiet voice – a defeated plea – from beyond the door. It was broken, but calmer. Not quite as forced, but it was still tinged with the aftershocks of desperation and pain –

And it made his heart break, if just a little bit. Or a lot, if he was honest with himself. The manager and chef of a ghoul restaurant, it almost made him laugh. Cheesy. But the situation called for much more tact than that.

"I have to Kyoya," He began, voice as soft as cotton in hopes of softening the next words from his lips, "I'm worried. Can you let me in?"

"You don't want to see," The reply came, quiet but all too rushed, "I'll be fine. I'm a ghoul, remember? It'll be o –"

"With some kind of illness no one else seems to know about," He argued, forehead falling against the door, "I... I don't know what's going on. I can't just hum 'see you later' and walk out the door like that. At least let me make sure... for my own sake, at least..."