A.N.: Once again, hello everybody and welcome to another installment of my first Ouran fanfiction! It's a lot more fun writing this than I thought it would be, and I have to say that I love you guys for the reviews. I melt a little bit each time I read one of those. ^^ Anyway, enough sappiness on my part, on with the show!

Disclaimer: I still don't own the Ouran High School Host Club, no matter how many times I've asked Santa to bring it to me.

Kyoya awoke with a violent headache in his room just past dawn the next day, with Tachibana and Tamaki staring down at him expectantly. Startled, he sat straight up and nearly crashed his head against the blond boy's nose. Luckily his friend had moved at the same time, hugging the surly bodyguard with exaggerated relief.

"He's awake!" He exclaimed, as if this weren't obvious, before turning back to the dark haired boy. "You should stay home from school today, Kyo-kun."

Kyoya rubbed his eyes, searching blindly for his glasses with one hand. "Why should I do that? Tachibana, prepare my uniform, I'll only make things worse if I'm absent after what happened yesterday."

The bald man didn't move, expression unreadable behind his sunglasses. "Master Kyoya, the nurses at your family's hospital were interviewed last night."

Damn. "Show me," he demanded, silently cursing whatever fate had caused him to collapse in the middle of a club meeting.

His two most doting (often overly so) companions glanced at each other uncertainly before Tamaki reluctantly pulled a newspaper out of his back pocket and handed it over to Kyoya. Both of them were looking as if they expected him to panic when he saw the article, and it was partially for this reason that the young man kept his expression completely neutral as he read.

After a few pages of searching he spotted a picture of his family in the entrance of their house, followed by a few paragraphs of text which briefly detailed his illness before going on to remind readers of all the Otori family's accomplishments. It could have been much worse, but even so there was one sentence he knew would wreck his remaining time at Ouran:

"Pancreatic cancer, a disease rarely found in children Otori's age, is almost always fatal, with a median survival rate of 6 months."

It would have been difficult not to lose his temper at school over the next few weeks if not for the support of the host club. The twins in particular had no patience for falsely-sympathetic peers, leaky-eyed fangirls or poorly concealed acts of pity. They had more than a few rude comments for any of these offenses, and were so harsh with a young woman that had told Kyoya she would "keep him in her prayers and protect him with her love" that they sent her away in tears.

When he had reprimanded them, (albeit not as sternly as he probably should have) for tarnishing the host club's reputation they merely replied, "We hate selfish people like that", and went on as they pleased.

Not that the host club was in danger of anything more than potentially overflowing at the moment. It was amazing how many teenage girls were absolutely fascinated by the complex of a "dark and mysterious man" with a "tragic secret"- or at least that's how Renge put it. Often male classmates came to the club as well to take advantage of an atmosphere where their "friend" couldn't avoid them, which was a tad bit frightening to say the least. Unfortunately, neither of these numbers dwindled when the boy in question made it clear he would not be entertaining guests.

Not that Kyoya minded. He could put up with his peers so long as he needn't speak with them, and the host club was making a considerable profit out of their eccentricity. That day alone they had made more money than they sometimes earned in a week. He assumed that people were buying so much of their amateur merchandise as some bizarre way of making him feel better, and he had no intention of correcting them.

"Kyoya-kun…?"

The voice was definitely feminine, and as Haruhi was the only woman in the Host Club Kyoya looked up from his clipboard fully intending to tell whomever had approached him to let him be. He merely sighed, however, and placed the board on the table he'd been leaning against upon seeing Renge watching him and looking almost hesitant. Such reservation-well, reservation at all, really- was unusual behavior for the French girl, but "usual" could hardly apply to anything in his life at the moment.

"Hello, Renge." Kyoya greeted, keeping his annoyance out of his voice with a little more difficulty than usual. "Can I help you with something?"

She shook her head firmly, watching him with a look that could have been of either determination or fear-a difference he'd of thought was obvious until then. "I just wanted to know something. I'm… I'm part of the Host Club too, right? Then why didn't you tell me you were sick sooner?"

He was becoming very tired of answering this question- could none of his classmates understand that his life had nothing to do with them? "For one thing, you are not part of this club, you've merely appointed yourself as our manager and done very little I would consider work." The dark haired boy retorted with his usual humorless smile. "And I wanted to keep that to myself. Weren't you the one so enchanted by my "mystery", as it were?"

"No, that's all wrong!" Renge protested, shaking her head furiously with her hands clenched and pressed to her chest as she always did when she was upset. "You're supposed to tell me, so we can be together…"

What a selfish girl. "I would have kept this from even Tamaki if I'd had the choice." Kyoya assured in place of this insult, knowing she would assume the statement was meant to console her.

"But I'm different!" She insisted, looking up at him like he was one of her infuriating video game characters. "I love you, Kyoya-kun!"

"No, you don't." He retorted, resisting the urge to smirk at her taken-aback expression. "You're wishing you were, for a better memory of me I suppose." Or so you have an excuse to act like one of your melo-dramatic characters.

Renge recovered quickly, a trait of hers that he suspected would, unfortunately, never change. "But I do! I'll prove it, you can come-"

"I'm afraid I'm rather busy at the moment, Renge. Perhaps another time." Interrupted the bespectacled boy before picking up his clipboard and turning back to his work. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish this before tomorrow."

She seemed disappointed when she walked away, which she did only reluctantly. Kyoya had no sympathy for her though. If he'd stated his real feelings the results would have been far worse- he simply had no desire to waste whatever time he had left with her fantasies.

Though a grown woman's, it seemed, were no better.

The Otori family was entertaining an important business partner and his wife, and Yoshio had demanded that every one of his children be there. ("It's a family-oriented business, we want to endear ourselves to them.") Tamaki had been over as Kyoya's guest in the afternoon, and the business-man's doting wife had begged he be allowed to stay for dinner, insisting that she simply had to meet the youngest Suoh. The young blond was allowed to stay, if only because he was so good at putting the easily-charmed woman in a pleasant mood. Kyoya was relieved, believing he could hardly come up in conversation with his eccentric friend around.

Which might have been true if the women weren't so damn motherly.

She, like every brat at Ouran, seemed to think it was her official duty to console him about his illness whether he wanted her to or not. And he most certainly did not want to listen to some middle-aged woman who dressed like a teenage pre-Madonna coddle him for an hour. She seemed to think that because he was dying he would appreciate being spoken to like an infant.

"Don't worry dear, my husband's research team is wonderful. I'm sure we'll find some way to help you." She assured with a sickly sweet smile, turning to look sadly at her husband (did she think he couldn't see her?) as if to say "well? You lie too!"

Kyoya was unsure how to react to this, so he took a long drink of water to avoid responding. The woman's husband was looking at him apologetically, his father and brothers were looking fearful-as if they expected him to say something that would ruin relationships between the companies- and Fuyumi seemed to be smothering an urge to laugh. Even Tamaki looked perplexed, clearly uncertain about how to respond in such an awkward situation.

The woman was beaming at him expectantly, and the dark haired boy could feel his father's glare warning him to put up with her eccentricities. "I thank you for your… concern, but I've decided not to accept treatment." He smiled in what he supposed was a grateful way. Such an idiot. How lucky for her that she married into a rich family.

"Oh, what a brave boy." God, it was like she was talking to a five year old. "You all must be so proud of him."

Kyoya could have laughed at the looks on his family's faces- even Fuyumi was at a loss for words, though she recovered more quickly than the others. "I've always been proud of Kyo-kun."

He shot her an annoyed look for the melodramatic comment and she grinned briefly in return. Tamaki, apparently oblivious that she had been joking, nodded his consent. "I'm proud of Mother too-ow!"

The blond boy whimpered, reaching under the table to massage the shin Kyoya had just kicked. "Ah, Mother's just a nickname Tamaki's given me." The Shadow King explained brightly, digging his heel into Tamaki's foot while smiling sweetly. "We run a club at our school, and he considers us a family."

The wife began to say something once more, but her husband jumped in quickly to attempt to salvage the situation. "Well, speaking of family… This must be very hard on you too, Yoshio-san."

Kyoya knew better than to even glance at his father, merely feigning interest in his meal. There was a brief pause before Yoshio replied, without an ounce of outward feeling, "Kyouya was never intended to the Otori's heir, our company will survive with just his brothers."

Even his brothers were taken aback by the comment, whereas the others looked simply stunned. "Father, that-" Akito began, glancing anxiously not at Kyoya but at the flabbergasted businessman and his wife-the former whom was looking disgusted by the comment and the latter merely befuddled.

A loud scraping sound cut him off- Kyoya had gotten to his feet. Without a word he grabbed Tamaki by the upper arm and dragged his friend out of the room, slamming the door behind them as the diners stared in shock at their backs.

"Kyoya, what are you doing?" The blond boy pulled his arm free and almost immediately moved back towards the door, only to find his friend was blocking his way.

"You're angry. I can't have you saying anything to my father, whether you mean to or not." He explained calmly, seeing by his surprised reaction that Tamaki had no idea how furious he'd appeared.

The French boy blushed, as embarrassed as he ever was to lose his temper. "Are you all right, Kyo-kun?"

No. "…Would you like to stay over tonight, Tamaki?" In a way Kyoya supposed he was saying the same thing, he rarely made such an invitation without reason.

Thankfully Tamaki recognized this, or maybe he was just bipolar, but either way he beamed like a little kid in a candy shop. "Kyo-kun wants me to stay~"

Kyoya grabbed his friend by the shoulder to stop the happy spinning the boy had taken up. "Keep being an idiot and I'll ask you to leave. Go find a maid, ask her to find you something to wear then wait for me upstairs."

A feeble excuse to be rid of him, and they both knew it. How many times had the blond boy stayed there? He had an over-night kit ready and waiting for him, but even so he bounded off with typical cheer to find a servant who could help him while the other boy calmed down. Kyoya sighed at his behavior and leaned back against the wall to wait.

Not two minutes later Fuyumi came out of the dining room and tackle-hugged him so suddenly he nearly fell over. He shouted in surprise and pushed her aside, hurrying to fix his glasses- which had nearly fallen off. His sister seemed entirely unabashed, merely hugging him once more-now around the neck, so that he was nearly choking- and sighing dramatically.

"Oh Kyo-kun, why do you let father be so cruel?" She wondered, swooning theatrically, which at least made it possible to pry her other arm away from his neck.

"Father doesn't say things like that to be cruel, Fuyumi." He protested, though he wasn't so sure. Hadn't Yoshio spoken harshly only after Kyoya had mentioned the host club he hated so much?

The girl stopped mid-swoon, hand falling back to her side in a dejected sort of way. "Maybe he doesn't, but that doesn't change anything. Where's Tama-kun gone to?"

"He's looking for clothes, he's staying the night."

"Good, you need that." She smiled up at him, and he felt a rare surge of affection for his sister. Though she was almost as ridiculous as Tamaki she nevertheless cared for him, and sometimes made a rather obvious show of it. "I'll call my husband, I'm staying over too. I want to talk to father."

"Don't. You'll only make him angry with you. I can deal with a few harsh comments."

"Well I can't." She retorted, daring him to protest with an unusually fierce look. "And neither can you, or you wouldn't have sent Tamaki off."

Fuyumi pulled him in for a hug again, a real one that Kyoya didn't pull away from. "You're not all right, are you?"

"…I'll manage."

"You hardly ate anything. Even the servants have noticed you getting thinner, Tachibana was worried about you."

Kyoya sighed, wondering why on earth his bodyguard was talking with his sister. "Unfortunately it hurts to eat sometimes, Fuyumi… I'll try though." He conceded, judging by the look on her face that she wasn't about to give up.

"Good. I should get back-things are falling apart in there." The dark haired girl sighed and gave him a quick-and extremely embarrassing- kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Kyo-kun."

"I love you too. And don't do that."

"Aw, you always used to ask for a kiss goodnight when you were little."

"I don't remember that- I must have blocked out the memories."

Fuyumi laughed, one of the only things that could cause Kyoya to really smile anymore. "Goodbye, little brother." She waved once more in her usual chipper way before re-entering the dining room.

"Goodbye, Fuyumi."

The smile vanished from his face almost immediately. He leaned back against the wall once more and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He'd had an almost constant ache in his abdomen ever since he had collapsed during the club meeting, and to his annoyance he was feeling almost constantly depressed. Being around his sister hardly helped, only made it harder not to lose control of his emotions and begin crying in the middle of the entrance hall. He hated to cry, hadn't since the night he'd been diagnosed with this disease. He knew he was stronger than that, and he knew Fuyumi would be there in the morning.

So why had his goodbye seemed so goddamn final?

Kyoya stayed like that until he heard chairs scraping in the other room. Not wanting to see his father right now, and knowing he'd neglected Tamaki for too long, he stood up straight and hurried into the other room. He considered questioning a maid regarding his friend's whereabouts, but after only a moment's thought he decided against it.

"What's this one from?"

Just as he'd thought, Tamaki had been in the living room admiring their new piano and didn't so much as flinch as his friend approached. It was amazing that the smallest things could startle him at the best of times, but he was completely serene when playing the piano.

"The main theme of a Japanese T.V. show my dad showed me once." He explained happily, no doubt ready to start a rant about how great the show was and how they should look it up to watch online.

Kyoya wasn't in the mood for refusing him today, better not to let him make the request at all. "It's good. Keep playing that one."

Surprised-Kyoya almost never encouraged him to play- Tamaki faltered for a moment before beaming. "Of course!" And the music started up again.

For hours the Shadow King sat listening to his friend play: classical music, theme songs, tunes from musicals, nursery rhymes… He seemed to have no order in mind, merely playing whatever he wanted once one song was finished. He really is good. Kyoya conceded as Tamaki began a rather complicated Chopin piece. I'll tell him… one of these days. But right now he was too busy listening, closing his eyes and absorbing the music so that when the two finally went to sleep the song was still playing through his mind.

Tamaki woke up at 4 in the morning, so suddenly he might have been splashed with ice water.

Something felt wrong.

Kyoya's room was quiet, nothing more noise than the near-silent humming of the fish tank's water heater to have woken him up. So why had he? He'd always been an early riser, but this was just ridiculous. Maybe he'd just had a nightmare, forgotten it when he woke up-that happened to him every once in awhile and he usually just fell back asleep right away. But not this time.

"Mommy, are you awake?" Tamaki whispered at last, wondering if maybe the other boy had woken him. But no, Kyoya was still fast asleep on his bed. The blond boy sat up and pulled himself and the futon he was sleeping on closer, nudging his friend's shoulder slightly. "Kyo-kun, wake up."

No response. The boy always slept like a rock, but even so Tamaki scrambled to his feet and shook him gently, then more roughly when there was no response. "Kyoya? Kyoya!" It took a conscious effort to swallow-it felt like his heart had skipped to his throat- and breath, remember to breath. Calm down, he's a heavy sleeper, it's never this easy to wake him up. Even so he listened for the absent sound of another's breathing, pressed his ear against the other boy's chest for the drumming of a heartbeat. Nothing but his own hyperventilating. He fumbled to feel for a pulse- maybe the wrist wasn't strong enough, better check the neck too… Nothing.

He was shaking too much, that must be it- if he was too numb to feel his own phone as he ran to pick it up how could he feel a pulse? He dialed a number blindly, pressing the device hard against his ear as if listening more intently would make the ringing stop more quickly, make someone answer.

"Tamaki-senpai…?" Haruhi sounded exhausted, and more than a little frustrated. "Why are you calling me so late? You almost woke up Dad."

"I-it's K-Kyoya." Tamaki sobbed. What's the point? There's nothing she can do for him now. He shoved the thought aside, terrified that he had even had it. "H-he… He's-"

"Where are you right now?" She demanded, all traces of sleep gone from her voice. He told her, found it was immensely difficult through the tears that wouldn't stop. "I'll call the others."

Was it his imagination or was her voice shaking too? Either way she had hung up without another word, so no way of finding out. Tamaki shoved the phone aside then ran back to his friend's side, determined to wake him up before the others got here.

After Haruhi called the Hitaachin brothers it only took twenty minutes for their car to speed through town to pick her up, and another ten to bring the trio to the Otori household, where Mori was already explaining what he could to a very sleepy butler, Hunni sniffing back tears and hugging Usa-chan to his chest. Hikaru and Kaoru didn't give the servant so much as a second glance, shouldering their way past him and charging up the stairs with the rest of the Host Club only seconds behind.

They must have woken up the entire household, but courtesy was the last thing on any of their minds. For some reason they had to get to their friends as quickly as possible, to prevent what they knew had already occurred.

But all that met them at the end was the sight of Tamaki- sobbing into the still chest of their fallen Shadow King.

A.N.: So, yeah, you all probably hate me right now.

I have a few comments before I defend the way I ended this-the biggest being that Renge wasn't in the original draft. I don't know why I added her either, except that I thought that scene would be fun to write, and it was. The second is that it's really up to you whether Yoshio meant what he said or not- either way, I wrote this thinking that if any of his children really were diagnosed with cancer he wouldn't really comprehend it for awhile. He's not a person run by emotion, and his mind would be focused on the "business" he had to settle, or at least I thought so. I might do a sort-of follow up to this that will explain more about Yoshio's behavior….

Anyway, on to my main point. That last scene is why I wrote this entire fanfiction-because one day I was sick with infection and alone at home, so I called my friend and asked her to stay with me. She agreed, jokingly asking me not to die in my sleep while she was there, because that would freak her out. Well, it made me think about how horrible that would be… and that's what I hope all of you thought about too. It's not a good feeling, huh? Thanks again for all the reviews-I love you guys to death for those.