It Matters Not

I do not own Ouran, the characters or other related recognizable persons or places. I do, however, own the plot.

Kyouya stood underneath a cherry tree in the Ouran garden. The bright spring sun glinted off the lenses of his glasses. A slight figure clad in a periwinkle blue blazer retreated through the garden. The third son stayed rooted to the spot, cherry blossoms swirling in the breeze around him, his eyes on the retreating back of his best friend.

His best friend that had just walked away.

Forever.

Emotion weighed down his insides and tugged at his lips. He remained rigid, his shoulders stiff and his hands clenched at his sides. Frozen in time by the words that flitted through the garden, echoing long after they were said, the youngest Ootori boy stood underneath a cherry tree in the Ouran garden.

"Where is Master Kyouya wishing to be taken?" Tachibana asked as he opened the door for the teen.

Kyouya paused, one food inside the car, a hand on top of the open door next to his drivers. He looked at the man, examining his trusting gaze before he spoke.

"To my Mother," he said in a low voice before sliding into the vehicle and staring ahead at the privacy divider, face devoid of emotion. Tachibana nodded, closed the door and slid into the driver's seat, before taking his master to see his Mother.

A cherry tree stood, beautiful and in full bloom. Kyouya stared at the tree and its flowers, Tachibana on the other side of the door, holding it open for the youngest son. He watched the boy, examining his demeanor and concluding that he did not want his company this time.

Kyouya pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and took a tentative step toward the tree, his other food following by example. The spring breeze ruffled Kyouya's hair and carried the scent of the cherry blossoms across the parking lot. Kyouya approached the tree and lifted his hand, picking a full slower off the cradling it between his fingers in his open hand.

Hand held in front of him, Kyouya stepped onto the path, following it out of instinct more than consciousness. His let his feet guide him. He had not been to see his Mother in many months.

Arriving at her place, Kyouya bent, placing the flower on the stoop before he lit the incense and kneeled before her. The teen pulled out his set of beads, bowing his head and closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Kyouya held it, counted to nine, and released it slowly, his shoulders relaxing with the exhale. Running his fingers over the smooth wood, his lips moved with each bead in silent prayer.

He paid his respect.

He gained comfort and guidance.

To say that the Host Club was tense was the understatement of the year.

There was an elephant in the room and everyone could see it. Every one of the members tip-toes around the large beast looming between their Lord and the Shadow King, trying not to arouse it from its seemingly dormant state.

Haruhi was fixing another round of tea for her customers and the twins', muttering something about ungrateful rich bastards. Hikaru and Kaoru sat close, glancing over at Kyouya. They commented simultaneously about the dark shadow shrouding him and both unconsciously moved further away, much to the amusement of their ladies.

Kyouya sat in his usual spot at the head of the table, typing viciously away on his laptop, his eyes transfixed on the screen without actually seeing. Hani and Mori, along with Usa, were enjoying strawberry cake to Kyouya's left, the scent of which was nauseating to the teen.

And Tamaki. Tamaki, Kyouya couldn't help but notice, was not radiating that inevitable charisma like was expected from the blonde boy. Glancing at him from the corner of his eye, not going unnoticed by his tablemates, Kyouya took note that he acted rather dull. His eyes didn't light up when he laughed at his own joke, nor did his smile seem as full and genuine. Even his appearance seemed greyer than ever.

And it was his entire fault.

After club hours, Kyouya remained behind longer than he usually would. The twins had bounded out of the door soon after the last lady had left, laughing as Tamaki half-heartedly yelled at them about touching his precious daughter. Mori and Hani both left shortly after the twins, bidding Kyouya a good evening with a knowing look that made him avert his eyes.

Haruhi was bustling around the room, picking up the dirtied dishes of the day and piling them onto her cart. Kyouya had long ago given up on telling her that the school staff would take care of the mess and let her work. He figured it was either a commoner thing or she was hoping he would knock off some digits of her debt for the extra (and rather unneeded) work.

But Kyouya could only keep his eyes on the newest member of the club for so long. Tamaki was standing, his hands fumbling with themselves awkwardly, and attracting Kyouya's gaze quickly.

The awkward tension between the two was tangible. So many emotions filled the cold boy. His glasses flashed with the sunlight coming in through the large windows and Kyouya thankfully hid. His heart was beating fast and a headache was fast approaching.

Tamaki didn't say anything before he turned and walked away.

The elephant shrank to half its size when the door to the third music room closed behind the blond. It was easier to breathe in the spacious room, suddenly.

"Is something the matter, Senpai?" Haruhi wiped the cloth across a coffee table, effectively polishing the surface to a nice shine. She glanced over at the elder boy, unsure how to gauge his current mood.

"Hmm." Kyouya hummed in thought. His head rested in his hand. His laptop was long off, abandoned toward the middle of the table as its owner leaned back in his chair.

"It's just that…" Haruhi paused, gathering her thoughts while rearranging the pillows on the sofa the twins had shared that day. "…something is off."

Kyouya didn't respond, so Haruhi rambled on, trying to place a word on the feeling, to give a name to the elephant snoozing in the corner. Kyouya took his glasses off. They clinked on the marble tabletop as he carelessly tossed them away. He applied pressure to the bridge of his nose, ignoring the words tumbling out of the girl's mouth as she moved about the room.

He took a large breath that sounded to Haruhi, who ceased her rambling and looked up at her senior, like a gasp. Kyouya held the breath, feeling at ease with the oxygen expanding his lungs. When it became unbearable, he released the breath slowly and stood with his hands braced on the table.

Instantly, his head rushed and his senses fell away. Kyouya's grip on the table loosened and his balance faltered the same moment his heart clenched and a feeling of weightlessness encompassed him.

The next moment, Kyouya's eyes blinked open. Haruhi was flustering over his slumped form.

"Senpai? What happened? Are you alright?" Haruhi worried. She pressed her hand to his forehead, her eyebrows knitting together.

Kyouya's head felt full and empty at the same time. His body felt frustratingly relaxed and didn't respond well when he attempted to move. He could feel his blood rushing in his ears, pounding and drowning out Haruhi's worries. A wave of nausea crashed over him, causing his stomach to lurch and his mouth to water.

"What's wrong?" Haruhi flustered, her hands ghosting over him in an attempt to fix whatever the matter was, but only managing in smoothing out his uniform. "What do you need?"

With effort, Kyouya raised his hand. It trembled in the air with an unsteadiness Kyouya was hoping wasn't there.

Kyouya felt as if something had changed. It hadn't happened in such a long time, he'd almost forgotten that it existed. His glasses were lying on the coffee table next to his crossed feet propped up on the table. They reflected the image of his arms spread out along the back of the couch, of his long neck stretched back so that his head hung over the edge.

Fuyumi knocked on her brother's door before entering. Kyouya blinked his eyes open, ready to test his theory. In the blink of an eye, Kyouya was standing. His head rushed and black dots consumed his vision. Before Fuyumi could even react, Kyouya crumpled, falling awkwardly onto the couch.

"Kyo-" Fuyumi gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth before she rushed over.

It looked as if he was sleeping. He was slumped over, his head down so his chin touched his chest with his hair in his face. Fuyumi touched his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

Kyouya blinked his eyes open, feeling just as he did in the Host Club room earlier that day. Getting a grip on the cushion underneath his hand, Kyouya closed his eyes again, willing the dizziness and nausea to dissipate.

"Kyouya." Fuyumi said in a firm voice, her face stiffening.

Kyouya opened his eyes again and raised his head. Even without his glasses he could recognize that look.

"I had to make sure."

"This has happened before!" Fuyumi exclaimed, fussing over Kyouya as he sat up slowly. He didn't bother comforting her worries.

"And how long has this condition been happening?" A private Ootori doctor asked as he pressed the stethoscope to the youngest son's back.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, as ordered, Kyouya stared at the wall, remembering. Tamaki's words echoed in his head.

"One month. Sparingly."

"Have you been exceedingly stressed lately?" He asked, draping the stethoscope around his neck and moving away from the shirtless teen. He picked up a blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around the boy's upper arm.

"No more than usual." Kyouya lied easily. The cuff squeezed his arm and he felt his heart squeeze in the same manor, his breath halting briefly.

"Hmm," the doctor hummed, recording the results onto Kyouya's chart. "We'll run some tests to be sure."

Dinner at the Ootori table was always a formal occasion, no matter the company. Fuyumi joined them for another night, not going uncommented on by their father. Kyouya was glad for the attention not to be on him and embraced the silence that surrounded his meal.

He ate slowly, retreating into his thoughts as the rest of the family discussed his eldest brothers accomplishments as of late. He cared not to hear how behind he was. If the third Ootori was to gain any notoriety, he had much to do yet. He was nowhere close to the strict expectations set upon his slender shoulders.

Kyouya tipped his head slightly, letting his hair cover his vision. It went unnoticed.

Tamaki, their very President, hadn't shown up to club activities.

Kyouya brushed it off with a smile, readjustment of his glasses and a short pause in his persistent typing to offer a brief excuse. Not one of the Host's believed the lie, but no one questioned the boy.

When each Host had moved to their spots in the room to welcome in the guests of the day, Kyouya left his hands hovering over the keys, poised and ready to continue the thought left off. His eyes lost focus on the screen as Tamaki's words continued to echo through his head. Each word sent pain to his chest that multiplied and spread to his shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, Kyouya stood and snapped his laptop closed. He stayed standing for a brief second, trying to blink away the sudden dizziness.

Not looking back at the occupants of the room or offering an explanation for his sudden departure, Kyouya shouldered his bag and walked out of the room.