Nightmares

A summer story from the host club

Takashi Morinozuka came awake with a start. He couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about, but it must have been something terribly frightening; he was breathing heavily and sweat was dripping down his face. He pushed the bedcovers aside and sat up with his head in his hands.

He had been running from something...or had he been running after something? A final tremor went through his strong frame. Then he felt a sudden terror seize him, and he turned his head sharply, searching the dark room frantically with his eyes as his heart leapt into his throat.

There. The panic washed out of him slowly, like the waves crashing and receding on the beach outside the window. It's all right, Mori thought comfortingly to himself. He's safe.

Mitsukuni Haninozuka, Takashi's young charge, lay sleeping peacefully on the pallet beside him, moonlight reflected in slivers of his light, wavy hair. The smaller boy did not stir, but after a moment he blinked his blue eyes sleepily, and opened them wide.

"What's the matter, Takashi?" Hunny asked. So akin to one another, the two of them; one could hardly make a sound without the other understanding instantly its implications.

Mori shook his head slightly. "Nothing," he answered. "Go back to sleep."

The light-haired boy refused, sitting up on his pallet. "I can't go back to sleep now," he said, frowning. "If Takashi's not all right, then I'm not all right."

A familiar hint of a smile lifted the corner of the taller boy's mouth. "Don't worry," Mori assured him. "You're safe, and that's all that matters."

Hunny attempted to stifle a yawn, but it broke through nonetheless. He leaned his head against Mori's broad shoulder.

"Takashi had a bad dream again, right?" the small boy mumbled.

Mori was silent, but he knew that he was understood. His gaze wandered absentmindedly through the darkness, around the big, empty, Japanese-style room, the moonlit pallets and the shadows in the corners, and finally to the open window, its sheer white curtains billowing softly in the ocean breeze.

"I don't remember it," Mori said after a pause.

"Remember what?"

"What I was dreaming about."

Hunny made no sound, but he slipped his arms around the taller boy's waist in a comforting hug.

"It'll be okay, Takashi," Hunny whispered. "Everyone has nightmares, sometimes."

It may have seemed ridiculous--the little, childlike boy soothing the fears of his strong, dark protector--but to Mori, it was an invaluable reassurance.

He placed a hand on the smaller boy's head, and when Hunny looked up, he smiled.

"Thank you," Mori said. "I think I can get back to sleep, now."

As the two sank back down into the warmth of their covers, Mori glanced out the window again, cautiously searching the empty night sky.

"Mitsukuni," he said after a long while.

"Yeah?"

"I remember what I was dreaming about. Someone was after you...trying to harm you. They were taking you away from me, and there was nothing I could do."

Hunny turned his head so that he could see Mori's troubled face. "Hey, Takashi," he said gently. "No one's ever gonna do that. I wouldn't let them." He smiled in the darkness. "No one's ever gonna take me away from Takashi."

Mori felt safe at the sound of the words, and the warmth crept inside of him. In a little while, he closed his eyes.

Hunny waited until Takashi had fallen asleep before he closed his eyes, too, and waited out the dawn.

It was midnight, and Kaoru Hitachiin hadn't slept a wink.

Even though they had gone to bed early, and everyone had been tired, Kaoru quickly found that he was having a hard time dropping off in that bright, moonlit room. Part of this was due to his mental unrest. Part of it was due to the troubles that a full moon always gave Kaoru at night.

And a very large part of it was due to the fact that Kaoru was lying on the cold, hard, wooden floor.

In the downy sheets of the extravagant European-style canopy bed beside him, Kaoru's twin brother, Hikaru, snored away.

Kaoru groaned out loud. He's not making this any easier, the red-haired twin thought begrudgingly. "Stupid Hikaru!" he yelled.

Hikaru showed no signs of acknowledging this. On he snored, like a noisy motor-boat.

"Urgh..." Kaoru flipped over on his side so he wouldn't have to look at his sleeping brother. He pulled the thin blanket around his skinny body and clamped the lumpy pillow over his ears.

Stupid Hikaru. He thinks he has to turn everything into a contest.

The whole day had gone horribly wrong. First, all the stupid games with Tamaki that Hikaru had come up with to tease him, then arguing with Hikaru all day, and finally that stupid competition over who would win the bed for the night. And on top of all that, Hikaru was continually competing for Haruhi's attention, just like she was a toy, just like everyone else...and he was so stupid, he didn't even realize it. That was all it was to him: a game. Well, he might as well "win" her, too.

"Fine," Kaoru muttered, "you win, Hikaru. Is that what you want to hear?" His voice got louder, uncontrollable. "Isn't that what you've always wanted to hear, Hikaru? You win! You win! Do you hear me, you idiot? You...win." Kaoru crushed the pillow to his mouth. He clamped his eyes shut, fuming with anger and pent-up emotion. A tear escaped his eye and ran down into the cheap fabric of his pillow, soaking it.

In the end, after all was said and done...this was the way it always would be, wouldn't it? Kaoru, the loser; Kaoru, in second place; Kaoru, lying on the floor...

"Kaoru?"

At the sound of Hikaru's voice, Kaoru tensed up and grew silent. He lay frozen in a heap on the floor, listening.

"Kaoru, are you crying?"

A new tear ran loose, and Kaoru jerked involuntarily. "Thought you were asleep," he grumbled, unable to hide the quiver in his voice.

"You know I was faking it. I haven't slept all night."

"...Me neither."

"I know." Hikaru paused for a moment, and Kaoru waited silently on the floor, still not turning around to look at his brother.

"Kaoru..." Hikaru's voice rang out in the silence again. "Those things you said...that's not what I wanted to hear."

"Sure, it's not," Kaoru scoffed into his pillow. "That's why you're competing with me all the time."

"You do it, too, Kaoru. Stop acting like you don't." Silence for a moment. "Besides, it's fun."

Kaoru was going to make a reply, but he suddenly felt too tired and too exasperated to say anything. He just wanted to be asleep, unconscious, away from Hikaru. But the floor was cold, and he was horribly uncomfortable, and for some stupid reason, he couldn't stop shivering.

"Kaoru...I'm sorry."

Kaoru flinched.

"I know I hurt your feelings," Hikaru went on, quietly. "And I know my words mean nothing to you right now. But I hate fighting with you. I just...hate it."

Shaking from the crying that he was trying to stifle, Kaoru wanted to punch himself. Why couldn't he stop? He felt like an idiot for crying...he was mad at Hikaru...but all he could think about was how much it hurt.

"Hik--Hikaru..." Kaoru stammered.

"Come on," Hikaru said, and suddenly Kaoru felt two warm hands around his wrists, pulling him up from the floor. "Come on, stupid. Get up here with me."

Kaoru said nothing as he climbed into the soft covers and warm mattress next to Hikaru. He sank into his brother's arms and curled up against him as the tears subsided.

"I hate fighting," Kaoru said after his breathing had evened out and the feeling of Hikaru's fingers tracing through his hair had calmed him down.

"Me, too," Hikaru agreed. He could tell that Kaoru was nearly asleep.

"I can't function when we're like that. I give up on everything and I can't sleep. It's like a nightmare."

"I know."

"I love you," Kaoru mumbled as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Hikaru smiled, shaking his head softly as his eyes closed. "Don't you get it, you idiot? That's what I've always wanted to hear."

Haruhi Fujioka woke up to an uneasy sound. She sat up in bed listening for a moment, then clenched her fists around the bedcovers as the eerie sound started again. I'm not superstitious, Haruhi thought, but if I were, I'd think this place was haunted.

After a minute had passed, Haruhi scooted to the edge of the bed and lowered her bare feet onto the creaking wooden floor. Best go investigate, she thought.

Opening the door to her room, the dark-haired girl was confronted with a long, dark passageway, lit only by the occasional torch mounted on the wall. Ouran students' families are so rich, Haruhi mused, you'd think they could buy their way out of the Dark Ages. She paused. Oh, well.

The hallway was silent except for the soft padding sound of Haruhi's footsteps, and the strange moaning that was coming from somewhere up ahead. There was an odd chill in the air of the building that made Haruhi wish she had something to wear besides her t-shirt and shorts. She folded her arms to keep out the cold, and kept walking.

The source of the ghostly noise seemed to be coming from behind a tall, ornate wooden door with gold handles. It would be insensible to just walk in... Haruhi considered this as the sound grew louder. But I don't suppose it would do any harm, she concluded.

She turned the handle and pushed the door open, peering inside.

Behind the door lay a surprising world. The room was warm and inviting, and uncommonly well-lit; candles lined the walls and illuminated the Victorian furniture. On the right stood a comfortable-looking bed, and from it emanated the sound that Haruhi had been hearing: a sound no longer ghastly, but distinctly human; the sound of a young person crying out in his sleep.

"Senpai?" Haruhi's thin voice felt muffled in the room.

The sleeping figure made no response. His covers had been thrown off, and every so often his head turned feverishly from side to side. He was deep in some vivid dream, so it seemed. Haruhi edged closer, shutting the door behind her.

"Senp--" Haruhi began again, and then, "Tamaki."

But the blonde-haired boy, tossing in his sleep, did not respond to his name. Tamaki Suoh was lost in some imaginary world. He moaned and muttered something unintelligible, turning his head from one side to the other, his eyes sealed shut.

Haruhi was reluctant to come near him, unsure if she should try to wake him from his apparently troubling dream. Do I even want to know what he's dreaming about? Haruhi thought. It's probably another one of his weird fantasies...

Thinking she had better leave, Haruhi turned around to go out the door, but then Tamaki uttered one word that made her stop dead in her tracks.

"Mom..."

Haruhi's insides twisted up in a ball of ice. Slowly, step by step, she found herself moving toward the sleeping boy.

Tamaki's hair fell over his wincing eyes as he pressed his cheek into the pillow. "M--nn--" His lips moved, but no words passed from them, only quiet groans.

Hardly realizing what she was doing, Haruhi reached out and slipped her hand around his.

Beads of sweat had formed on Tamaki's forehead. His face was strained, and his hand clenched Haruhi's tightly.

"I know," Haruhi said, ever-so-softly.

At the sound of her voice, Tamaki's face softened, and gradually his fighting died down. He looked exhausted as he whispered in his sleep, "I...miss you."

Haruhi had to try very hard not to let the tears well up in her eyes. She could already feel a soreness in her throat constricting her breathing. Her own memories were so vivid in that moment that Haruhi felt as though she were the one who was dreaming.

Tamaki's eyelids fluttered open and for a moment, he matched her gaze. "Haru..." he began softly, then, "Ha--Haruhi!" Tamaki jumped up in bed. "I wasn't--Daddy was just--I didn't--"

He stammered in a panic until Haruhi spoke.

"Calm down, Senpai. You didn't do anything. I came in here because you woke me up."

"I--I did?" Tamaki wore a look of helpless confusion.

"Yes. You were making a lot of noise," Haruhi answered bluntly.

"Oh..."

"I think you were having a dream," Haruhi clarified. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have intruded." She turned to go out the door.

"Wait!" Tamaki cried out. "Um...I mean...would you stay, for a moment?"

Haruhi turned around again, facing him.

"It's just..." Tamaki searched for his words. "I thought...well, when I woke up, there for a moment...I thought you were crying."

"I'm fine, Senpai," Haruhi said, giving him a weak smile as proof.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Haruhi hesitated momentarily. "I wasn't sure about you, though."

Tamaki gazed at her inquisitively, his eyes wide with innocent concern.

"I miss my mother, too," Haruhi said quietly, her eyes cast down. "Sometimes I dream that she never left. She opens the door, takes off her shoes, and says, 'I'm home. What should we make for dinner tonight, Haruhi?' I'm so happy to see her, I forget that I'm dreaming. I forget that she died. I run to meet her...and then I wake up."

Haruhi looked up at Tamaki, pausing before she went on. "You were dreaming about your mom, too, I think. I heard you say her name. I thought, 'Tamaki misses his mom a lot, too. He does a lot of things at school, and never talks much about his family, but when he's by himself, he must think about her a lot.' And then I thought...Tamaki must be really lonely, too."

She had almost forgotten that Tamaki was listening to her, and when she finally realized the intensity with which he was watching her, and saw the unabashed tears that had filled his eyes, Haruhi felt a pang of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," Haruhi apologized quickly. "I wasn't thinking about what I was saying. I didn't mean to--"

"No," Tamaki stopped her. His voice was raw, but he was smiling through his tears. "You--you're right." He sniffed, pulling his sleeve over his eyes. "We're not so different, you and I, Haruhi. But--but you've lost much more than I have. Your mom...you really lost her. And..." Tamaki was unable to hide the sadness in his voice. "I'm sorry, Haruhi," he cried. "I'm so sorry."

Normally Haruhi would not accept apologies. She would brush them off, say it was fine; she was really okay now. Normally, she would think, Why should you be sorry for me? But there was something in Tamaki's voice, and eyes, that made her understand that this was genuine concern--he really understood how she felt. And he was sorry, truly sorry, so much that it hurt him, too.

He knew what it was like to feel lonely. He knew what it was like to be alone.

Without a word, without looking up from the floor, Haruhi walked to Tamaki's bedside, climbed up beside him, and locked her arms around him in a hug.

Tamaki was so surprised at first that his whole body stiffened, and he didn't know how he should respond. After a moment, though, his muscles relaxed and he carefully laid his hands on Haruhi's head and shoulder.

"It's all right," Tamaki said quietly, brushing his hand gently through Haruhi's tousled hair. "Daddy's here."

The silly pseudonym did not bother Haruhi, for once. She pressed her cheek against Tamaki's chest, taking one shuddering breath at a time. The tears that had finally been released from her eyes soaked into his shirt. She breathed in the smell of his clothes, a smell like cloves and cinnamon, and slowly the warmth of his arms and his gentle touch on her head calmed her nerves, and her tears subsided.

Haruhi pulled away slowly, then smiled up at Tamaki.

"We're not really so lonely, are we?" she said. "We at least have each other."

Tamaki smiled, a feeling of care and warmth and gentleness saturating him from inside. "Yes," he answered. "We do."

Outside, the full moon illuminated the sky.

The ocean water slid up the shoreline and back, in and out like the breathing of some great creature, a continual flow. It crawled up the sand, stopped for a moment at its apex, and softly rolled back down to meet its giver with a quiet splash. It never stopped, never rested. Even in the late night calm, the water was in subtle, constant motion.

Kyoya Ohtori cleaned his glasses with the hem of his shirt, feeling the cool seawater close in around his bare feet, then gently release. He was watching the moon's bright reflection, scattered and broken on the surface of the waves.

A reflection may mimic its source, Kyoya thought, but it is only pretending to be something that it is not. It will always be the latter, a crude representation of its master.

The moon in the water did not even look like a moon. It was a shattered mirror of a moon, years of bad luck floating on the sea. All the former beauty of the original had been lost in the distortion of the surface.

Kyoya sighed and turned his mind to more present matters. The host club's days are growing dim, he thought grimly. A few more summers like this, and they will all go their separate ways.

For some reason, Kyoya did not feel that he could include himself in the "they" that referred to the rest of the club. Was it by choice? Surely, Kyoya was very much the axel turning the wheel; he had always been at the center of things, bringing the whimsical notions of the host club "king" to fruition. Without his calculating knowledge, the club would have dissolved a long time ago.

But there they were--Hunny and Mori, Kaoru and Hikaru, Tamaki and Haruhi--cleverly paired off, each turning to the other. They really were something of a family, Kyoya thought. It would be a sad day indeed that the host club would have to say goodbye to its older members, one at a time.

Still, Kyoya considered with a half-smile, procuring Nekozawa's private beach for the host club vacation again was a happy twist of fate.

It also was not a bad move, considering the business deal that the Ohtori group was nearly ready to seal with the Nekozawa family. Kyoya warmed himself from the inside with the satisfaction of knowing his own achievement.

One step at a time. That had always been the way of things. One step closer to getting into his father's good graces, one step closer to inheritance, to acknowledgment, to family fame. Where would it all end?

It would end only in the one place it could end: Success.

Kyoya listened to the roar of the waves washing up around him. He began to remember fragments of the dream that had sent him out here in the first place: a screaming voice, abusive words, toxic heavy air that pressed down on him like the summer heat. He thought of the other club members, each one a perfect compliment to the other. Where did he fit into all of this? And to whom would he run, when he secretly felt afraid?

The question, so often put to death by his conscience, had strangely troubled him, and it sent him from the confines of the mansion into the salty night air, where he now stood ankle-deep in the ocean. I must be getting thoughtless, Kyoya scolded himself. Up until now, such trivial matters had failed to bother him. Loneliness was a useless emotion, and the greatest nuisance of all.

Unfortunately, its sickness had taken hold of Kyoya, and it ravaged him tonight.

He remembered the vivacity with which Tamaki had befriended him long ago. He remembered the excitement it brought to the club when Hikaru and Kaoru came onboard. He thought of the innocent naivety in Haruhi's eyes when, a year ago in this very place, she had calmly asserted, You wouldn't do that, Kyoya. He thought of the calm sagacity of the club's two oldest members, Hunny and Mori, and how much he prized their company.

Was there really so much to cling to? After all, they would leave eventually, and forget about each other. In the end, the host club would be nothing but a memory.

Kyoya's thoughts were stopped short when he noticed movement in the distance. Far away, Tamaki and Haruhi were walking side by side, on the edge of the moonlit shore. Their hands brushed near each other, keeping slow time with the motion of their steps.

Looking out at the moon's reflection in the water, it suddenly seemed more beautiful to Kyoya than the moon itself.

No, he thought calmly. For now, this is enough.