{ The Goddess Type } Ootori Kyouya (R18)

Hard To Love

The raven haired boy sighed, staring at the ceiling as he was unable to sleep that night. A myriad of problems, no, possibilities entered his mind. What if he couldn't achieve his goals to become the successor? What if he could? Normally he wouldn't think too much, especially after being close to a certain blonde. Come to think of it, he was so sure that he couldn't succeed the company due to his older brothers simply existing and being more qualified than he can ever be. He took it all in. For years, he told himself, his job is to support his older brothers and encourage them to be better.

He's a third son, he's not the first.

Kyouya could still recall the incident when he was 15, angry and angsty, due to a lot of suppressed emotions and sarcasms that almost escalated to a fist fight with the second brother, Akito. He has always been very crass and temperamental. To him, Kyouya is the unwanted child. The asshole. The one who's always so darn curious and would meddle in things that he isn't supposed to at a young age. Kyouya had been a curious little child. He would ask his bodyguards a lot of questions, and then he would try to impress his father with his findings, in which a simple nod was given by the patriarch. Akito would roll his eyes at the sight. Yuuichi, the first brother would give little Kyouya a pat at the head as a sign of acknowledgement.

Kyouya was reminded of his entire childhood that night. How he was somehow, a bright little kid. Not to say that he isn't now but growing up and understanding how the world works, turned him into a silent and introspective guy who would rather stay in the shadows. Because that's what he is. Just a shadow, even in the family. His heart sank for a moment, before he took a deep breath and checked his phone to distract his thoughts. There were messages from Tamaki with pictures of his golden retriever. Antoinette.

He scrolled down to read some texts from Akito. It's about him complaining about Kyouya not coming down for dinner. He couldn't, not in this state of mind. The third Ootori son had been very lethargic per se, not just physically but mentally. Every morning he would wake up (after butchering the alarm clock to pieces) and groan, take a shower, while glancing at the full body mirror once in a while. He's thin, rather slim and a bit feminine at certain angles, but what bothered him the most as a matter of fact was always, his face.

Too soft.

That smile, the slightly long lashes, cheeks slightly flushed whenever he's in a good mood, pale pink lips instead of just brown like his brothers. Everyone in his family regarded him as the momma's boy. Kyouya's good looks were all inherited from his mother. She was exceptionally beautiful. He could still remember how she would coddle him when he was a little kid. Her lovely smile and demeanor. But things turned sour. His father divorced the wife while Kyouya was only 10 years old. He cried when his father told him that she is forbidden to enter the Ootori mansion unless with Yoshio's permission. The little boy sobbed and pleaded,

"Dad, please. I want mommy, I miss her. Please. I can't sleep without her bedtime stories and-"

"Kyouya, listen to me. Your brothers understood the situation, accepted it and moved on. Why can't you? You're a big boy now. Listen to your father."

Kyouya remembered his child self, the 10 years old boy routinely crying to bed until one day he accepted the fact that his mother is not coming back. She's gone. He would get letters once in a while before smartphones existed and now she would call the boy and ask how he's doing in high school. He never refused her call, even when he was studying or busy managing the host club as the vice president, he would still pick up and talk to her. Tamaki knows what's up and he would let Kyouya talk to his mother for as long as he could.

The shadow lord turned off his phone and tried to sleep once more. He recalled his mother's smile and soothing voice and pretended he was hugging her instead of a pillow. It was then a certain host came to mind. The purple haired girl with a distinctive eye smile and childish laughter. Kyouya smiled to himself, shrugged off the memory and closed his eyes. He would see her again the next day, and then the next, until for god knows when. After all, in his head, she was his.