A night out;; (Kyoya/Haruka - 11 years later)

The air was brisk around Haruka’s temples as the red-head tugged, nervously, at the beanie on her head. She pulled at it absently, almost as if to hide her entire face beneath the soft cashmere. Haruka didn’t know why, after all this time, she was still so affected by the events of all those years ago. It seemed silly, really, to be so… anxious. Right?

It was a chilly December evening. Snowflakes fell eagerly on bustling New York City, catching on Haruka’s peacoat as bright lights glistened all along Fifth Avenue. It seemed as if the world, and Christmas itself, was ignorant to the plight of the forsaken female hunkering under the overhang of Tiffany & Co. A little blue bag hung from her arm, evidence that even after all this time the effect of her favorite place on Earth could not ease the little red-head from her demons.

It had been six years since she’d graduated high-school, two since she’d moved to New York and started working. After studying political science for four years at the Sorbonne, Haruka had graduated and taken her place in the family business. These days she was the new face of Fujisaki Enterprise’s good-will campaign. She’d traveled all over the world giving speeches and attending charity galas in her family’s name, hoping to bring light to climate change and deforestation. She’d grown immensely in that time, both as an individual and as a part of something larger than herself.

Warm breath manifested into mist as it moved from her lungs to the cold night air. Knowing full well she couldn’t stand there forever fidgeting with her hat, the girl flipped out her smartphone. A single text, yet unopened, flashed across the screen from where it had arrived almost an hour ago.

Bryant Park, 7pm.

Above it, three impatient texts from Nabiki demanded to know more but Haruka couldn’t bring herself to clear the notification just yet and face reality. It had been… almost eight years since she’d last seen that name flash across her screen.

Kyoya Ootori, third son of the well known, practically world-ruling medical tycoon Yoshio Ootori. Formerly, Haruka’s best friend and closest confidant turned mortal… acquaintance.

Haruka sighed.

It was a ten minute walk from her current location to Bryant Park and she knew if she didn’t get moving soon she would be late. But her shoes seemed laden with lead. She couldn’t bring herself to pick them up, to put one foot in front of the other, knowing full well what awaited her on the other side. She could practically hear Nabiki’s scolding voice in her head as she stalled; Haruka knew her best friend was dying to know more about this ‘clandestine meeting’ while at the same time entirely trying to convince her out of it. Nabiki had always disapproved of her tumultuous relationship with the youngest Ootori, but it had never stopped Haruka before. And, the red-head decided, neither would it - or anything else - stop her from seeing him tonight.

Tugging her hat down with one more forceful jerk, the young woman began her brisk walk to the death.

Impulsive drive had always been Haruka’s way when it came to her relationships. She didn’t know how she’d managed to keep up the facade of being a quiet and unobtrusive little mouse all these years, but those closest to her certainly knew that she was fiery and sometimes, still, rash. It was exactly that rashness that had brought about this sudden burst of nostalgia.

Yesterday had been a simple day like any other; it had started with Haruka tripping her way into a coffee shop. A normal coffee shop far from her apartment on Park Avenue: a coffee shop more mundane and usual than all the rest in New York City! A coffee shop that, ironically, had held the most unusual and unwelcome surprise the Fujisaki heiress could have dreamed. Standing there, looking radiant in all his aged glory, had been the one person she thought she’d never have to see again. Not after all these years, after all this time, in this big wide world, so far away from Japan.

Ducking like a mad woman, she’d turned tail so quickly to escape that Haruka hadn’t even realized that maybe - just maybe - her little spectacle had attracted his attention, too.

His text had appeared entirely out of the blue. Haruka had been sure she’d escaped a painfully awkward situation without detection. She’d been positive. But then, at 6pm today, (like she had nothing better to do on a Friday night!) his demand had flashed across her screen. The little red-head’s heart had skipped a suffocating beat.

Taking a shaky breath, Haruka stuffed frozen fingers into her pockets. There she thumbed agitatedly at the key ring her brother had given her last Christmas. It was going to be fine.

As she neared the entrance to Bryant Park, Haruka slowed taking in all the booths and shop-goers bustling about. Every year at this time Bryant Park transformed into a beautiful Christmas market and skating rink. Why Kyoya had chosen here of all places to meet, she wasn’t exactly sure. Haruka pointedly ignored the niggling feeling that it was to keep her from causing a scene. Public or no public, she was more restrained now as an adult. She was much less emotional than the last time they’d had a confrontation. This was a different park, in a different country, in a different time.

Still, her heart skipped another suffocating beat when her eyes spotted him across the way, back turned and scribbling in a little black notebook the same way he had been that time.

Haruka felt herself hesitate. The urge to run - both away from him and to him - was licking up her spine like a flame. She felt it burn warm and dangerous inside of her, like a long slumbering beast rearing its ugly head. For the first moment in what felt like a lifetime, Haruka let herself feel the tumultuous contradictions she’d locked away all those years ago. Here in this place, there were no more feuding clubs or silly dramatics, only poison words and knives stabbed into two lonely backs with years of rust eating away at the chasm between them.

Before she could make an impulsive decision, Haruka steeled her nerves and raised her chin. She was the epitome of class and old money, with her Burberry coat, tartan beanie, and perfectly manicured nails. There wasn’t a hair out of place and her makeup was impeccable despite the snow (because she’d stopped along the way to meticulously ensure as much). And still, despite the ‘perfect’ outward facade, she felt a crumbling inside: an impending doom threatening to ruin her expensive lashes.

“Ootori-senpai. It’s been awhile.”

The cacophony of a thousand heart beats per minute drowned out all conscious thought from Haruka’s mind as she turned to stand beside the man she’d once so ardently admired. Stiff shoulders and a robotic, overly polite gaze rewarded her for the tremendous effort.

“Hello Fujisaki-san.”
-------

He was no adonis, but the chiseled jaw and jet-black hair that were once so familiar and comforting seemed to set Haruka’s pulse into overdrive. How much he’d changed over the years! Taking care not to shuffle, the girl seated herself across from her old friend and folded leather-gloved hands in her lap, mindful not to crease the little blue bag still in her possession.

“I must say, I was surprised to receive your message so abstractly today after all this time,” she intoned, casually. (It wasn’t a surprise however that he’d managed to derive her cellphone number, what with his vast resources.)

“Hn,” Kyoya replied noncommittally. “About as surprising as seeing a ghost of the past stumble ungracefully out of the most common coffee shop this side of the Atlantic has ever seen, I’d wager.”

Haruka felt her brow crease slightly in distaste.

“I took up residence in New York a few years ago. The Fujisaki brand has expanded since we were children, as you no doubt are aware.” Her tone was even, restrained, too… light to be genuine.

Kyoya nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “I’ve been following the recent merger with Kochi Co. in the paper these weeks. I assume that means you’re still in contact with Nabiki-chan, no?”

Again Haruka’s brow creased slightly, this time at his informal reference to her closest friend. He was trying to get under her skin, she realized.

“I am,” Haruka crossed her legs. “In fact I’m going to be her maid of honor next month at a small ceremony in the Maldives.”

“Hn.” came the only response.

Silence stretched awkwardly between them and Haruka became aware of the standoff they must be showcasing to tourists glancing wearily at them from between the stalls. Irritated with the small talk, she leaned forward.

“You didn’t ask me here to chat about Biki-chan, did you? I have other, more pressing appointments if that’s all.”

Kyoya pushed thin, expensive glasses further up his nose.

“No.” he replied.

“Then what, pray tell, are we here to discuss?”

Another excruciating silence bounced between them. Haruka could see the tension lines in Kyoya’s stiff positioning and she half-wished she could squeeze that rigidity out of him. But she didn’t know this Kyoya anymore. And he didn’t know her.

“I suppose… there’s nothing else.” He finally conceded.

Heart dropping, Haruka leaned back in her seat. She hadn’t expected that.

“Well,” she hesitated. “Fine. I suppose that’s it then.”

Kyoya gazed at her, expression unreadable from behind those lenses. Haruka waited but he said nothing.

“Right,” she repeated. “Alright then.” Haruka stood, taking her small bag with her.

She had every intention of walking away and leaving him (and this bizarre confrontation) in the dust, but she couldn’t help pausing suddenly beside Kyoya’s still too stiff form. Slowly Haruka took one glove off and, almost willing him to say something as she paused, the girl gazed sadly at his profile.

Pressing the tips of her cold fingers against his chin just briefly, Haruka whispered: “Goodbye Kyoya-chan.”

-------

As she moved away, Haruka could feel tears welling up and threatening to ruin her mascara. Unbidden and unwanted, she made to dab them away with her un-gloved palm. They would freeze halfway down her cheeks if she didn’t reign herself in.

The sudden jolt of something restricting her movement made the girl gasp.

There, holding her lightly by the elbow, was Kyoya. He had a strange look on his face. A look that warred with his outer facade of cold indifference, one that lit up something ancient and warm in his eyes. Haruka’s heart skipped a third, suffocating beat that night and her tears held at bay as she searched for an explanation.

“I'm sorry."

“Two words that Kyoya had said only a handful of times to a couple of people came flooding out of his mouth, too fast for him to even think about saying them.”

-------

Haruka pulled her arm away from his grasp, grappling with the concession that had just dropped like a bomb, after all this time, in the great abyss that had formed between them. I’m sorry, he’d said. Those same two little words that he’d said on the playground all those years ago. Those same words she hadn’t believed and thrown back in his face.

Slowly, the time to respond ticked past and a gap stretched as Haruka searched those big brown eyes. For what, she wasn’t sure. What did she want after all this time? Was it his apology? Was it his forgiveness? Was it… anything?

Again her small, cold fingers reached up to trace this time along his jawline. They were like snowflakes dancing along his burning skin as Kyoya stood in a pallid silence. He too didn’t know what he wanted her to say or do. It was silly to expect anything to change after all these years.

Eventually, Haruka’s hand dropped back to her side.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered. I’m sorry I let so much happen between us to bring us to this precipice, she thought ardently. Blue eyes squeezing shut, the red-head felt the threatening tear drops finally loosen and roll down her icy cheeks. Warm arms reached to pull her close then and Haruka’s eyes shot open again in shock as the itchy wool of Kyoya’s black peacoat brushed against her cheek.

Quietly, they stood there. Neither said anything more, instead both of them clinging for dear life to this single moment. In the middle of Bryant Park, making a curious scene between themselves, the third son to the Ootori empire and the Fujisaki heiress embraced like they were the last people on the planet.

Fin.