Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Why would someone as cool as you fall for a crazy idea like a high school host club?"

"Well, because it was a crazy idea."

As he watched his best friend dance with Haruhi, Kyoya thought about the conversation he had with her that one afternoon. He was not sure why that particular memory struck him so forcefully at the moment, but he could not help but recall the way Tamaki had artfully taught the clients about kotatsu and the curious look Haruhi had on her face after he was done telling his story. It was a mixture of understanding and sorrow, two things he could handle the least when he happened to be the subject.

"You love him, don't you?"

"What do you mean by that, Haruhi?"

It was an intriguing question, Kyoya decided as he silently observed the pair, his emotions tactfully hidden behind the glint of his glasses. 

As the last of the fireworks fizzled away, he stepped away from the crowd and into the Ouran gardens unnoticed. The stars twinkled above him, but he was not in the mood to gaze up at them and contemplate as he might usually have. Instead, he impassively made his way through the maze and into one of the many domed pavilions, where he sat down and desperately tried not to think about Tamaki and Haruhi. About the way he could feel his ribs ache in a way that could not possibly be normal.

After all, he was supposed to be glad that the two people he loved most were happy. It was what he had known from the very beginning, and what he had done his best to make happen. So yes, he loved them and would do just about anything to keep them happy. Yes, he was happy for the two of them, even if a part of him shattered at the very thought. Yes, this was what he had always truly wanted from the moment the blond idiot had barged so ungracefully into his life.

Kyoya internally cringed. This level of drama and self-pity was better left to the other hosts, not for him.

The sound of startlingly familiar footsteps suddenly brought him out of his thoughts, and he cursed his luck. There was no need to look up and check to know who it was, because of course the idiot had found him, even amid the shrubbery he barely knew how to navigate. Kyoya's brow furrowed, his expression darkening as the footsteps grew louder. So much for leaving unnoticed. Why is he not back at the fair, dancing with Haruhi?

"Kyoyaaaa!" Tamaki glomped him without warning, crushing Kyoya with his embrace.

Kyoya winced as pressure was applied to his injured hand, a sharp pain going through the fingers that he had undoubtedly fractured earlier. "Tamaki, get off." The blond paid the order no attention and squeezed him even further. "Ow! Stop that!"

"Mon ami! Are you hurt? I'm SORRYYYYYY!"

Kyoya simply glared at him in response, several insults on the tip of his tongue. However, there were more pressing things to talk about. "I think there's something else you need to apologize for, Tamaki. I wanted to kill you, you know. How could you be so rash?" he snapped as he crossed his arms.

His voice was strained, practiced like it always was. Because how else could he manage to not cry?

"Aaaah! I can't believe I almost went back to France! I'm so sorry for leaving." Tamaki was animated, frantically waving his hands in the air. Kyoya had always noticed that Tamaki liked to express himself with his hands, and after knowing him for so long he found that the sweeping, grandiose arm movements Tamaki used tended to convey his feelings to him far better than any of the blond's rambling speeches did. Perhaps it was because Tamaki was a pianist...

Kyoya's expression softened at the apology, his tone more genuine when he spoke. "I know it wasn't just your grandmother's orders that made you think you should leave. I'm sorry for ever making you think that we don't like it here in the Host Club."

"But I thought-" 

Kyoya motioned for him to stop. He had hoped that Haruhi had made it clear what the hosts thought of the club, but apparently Tamaki was far denser than he had believed. Okay, perhaps not dense, exactly, but at least very oblivious when it came to feelings that involved himself. "So what if you are capricious? So what if I have to work hard to maintain the budget while still going with your outrageous ideas? So what if my father doesn't approve of the Host Club? The Host Club is the only place where I can enjoy myself, and I never have thought of you as a burden."

Tamaki sniffled. "Really?"

The corners of Kyoya's mouth curved upward. He would have considered the sound pathetic if it were anyone else, but it was Tamaki, and the sniffle instead warmed his chest and relieved some of the ache. "Of course."

A multitude of emotions went across Tamaki's face before his features schooled into a frown, but it was more of a sad expression than an irate one. "Hikaru and Kaoru told me that it was because of you that Haruhi reached me in time."

Kyoya nodded slowly.

"I must have really upset you."

Kyoya robotically nodded again, looking down at his right hand. It had once been perfectly manicured, but the ring and pinky fingers were now swollen and annoyingly painful to move.

Yes, he had been upset.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "You did. You upset all the other hosts, too."

Tamaki very gently took Kyoya's right hand in his own. "Mommy?" Kyoya's eye twitched, but as the blond had at least been acting seriously for the past few moments, he let the nickname slide. "Thank you for bringing me back."

Kyoya shrugged nonchalantly. "You're welcome."

"But I'm still confused about one thing." Tamaki's gaze dropped to the hand he was holding. "How did you hurt your hand?"

Kyoya froze, unsure of how to reply. But the truth fell from his lips before he could stop himself. "Let's just say that there is now a large dent in my family's Rolls Royce."

Tamaki's mouth fell open in a perfect "O." "No, you didn't."

Kyoya raised an eyebrow at the blond's comic expression. "I did. Before I go home, I'll get my hand x-rayed. I suspect that I have a boxer's fracture and will need to wear a splint for the next few weeks. You should be glad that I was born into a medical zaibatsu, because otherwise I'd have made you pay. It's your fault, you know."

Tamaki laughed, the sound making Kyoya smile much too softly as the ache returned to his chest. "You really are something, Kyoya. But why were you that upset?"

Kyoya did not respond at first, the ache growing as he instead staring into Tamaki's eyes. How could the blond not realize how much of an impact he had on the hosts, how much they really depended on Tamaki? His heart tightened uncomfortably as he thought of the person he used to be before Tamaki had entered his life. He doesn't even realize the effect he has over people, just like Haruhi.

"Kyoya?"

"You're my best friend, and the Host Club means everything to me." The top of Kyoya's ears grew warm out of discomfort and embarrassment, and he was glad that it was too dark for Tamaki to notice them turning red. "Shouldn't you go back to the festival? I'm sure Haruhi's waiting for you."

A look of confusion that Kyoya did not expect at all crossed Tamaki's face.

"Nah. I like it here. Besides, she went home already," Tamaki finally managed, his voice low as his expression softened in a way that Kyoya was not about to read into. Kyoya frowned at this change, but he hardly had the chance to open his mouth before the blond then switched the subject.

"This place is amazing. Isn't it, Kyoya?" He asked far too wistfully.

What could he be thinking about? "I suppose." Kyoya looked around and finally fully took in his surroundings. There was a full moon, and the night sky stretched above them like a black canvas speckled with innumerable stars that trembled like the flame on a candle. The familiar vines and roses that surrounded the pavilion were basked in soft moonlight, making them look delicate and ethereal.

The scenery was just the kind of thing Tamaki would love.

"I've never seen it at night before. You'll never find such an aesthetically wonderful place as this anywhere else in the world."

Kyoya snorted at that ridiculous notion. Tamaki was ever the hopeless romantic, wasn't he? "I doubt that, Tamaki. There's more to the world than just the places you've seen."

The blond ignored him and continued to stare at the sky now that the conversation was pretty much over. His round, violet eyes, perfectly reflecting the faint flicker of the stars above, were wide with awe, making him look even more stunning than usual. He was beautiful, happy.

This radiance, Kyoya decided, was what set Tamaki apart from him. Tamaki saw hidden, poetic meanings that Kyoya could spend his whole life searching for but never find. He was the dreamer who thought up all the crazy, romantic ideas that the Host Club would participate in, while Kyoya was grounded in reality, making sure they had the funds and means to execute said ideas. Even in appearance, they were opposites: Tamaki was as golden and bright as the Sun, while Kyoya was as pale and sullen as the moon.

"I want a garden like this someday. Maybe when I'm older and am able to live in the main mansion with my entire family."

“Tamaki...” Kyoya bit his bottom lip and his gaze fell to the ground.

It felt selfish that he wanted to become his own person outside of his family when Tamaki was desperate for his own family to make amends despite everything. Was it selfish? He thought it must be, even though he knew logically that their situations were markedly different. Tamaki's father cared deeply about Tamaki, and Kyoya was sure that his grandmother just had to open up her heart to see that the blond was worth loving, while Yoshio was...Yoshio. Kyoya was not even sure that there was a heart in there, not anymore. 

It was hard not to feel selfish next to the pure white roses around them.

"That sounds exactly like you," Kyoya carefully continued, pushing away the unhelpful thoughts.

"Does it?" Violet eyes looked at him in interest. "You know me well, don’t you?”

“It’s only natural, seeing that I’ve known you for so long.”

Tamaki grinned goofily, making Kyoya’s heart wrench. “That’s true, mon ami.”

Kyoya then made the rashest decision probably made in the long, long history of the Ootoris. Perhaps it was the romantic atmosphere — certainly, that was how Tamaki would have thought of it — or perhaps it was the fact that one of them nearly left the country not so long ago. Who knew? What Kyoya did know was that what he did next was completely irrational.

Before he could stop himself, he suddenly leaned forward and kissed Tamaki.

He felt the blond stiffen with shock, and he was about to pull away when Tamaki put one arm around him and practically yanked him closer. A million alarm bells rang in Kyoya's mind. He should not be doing this, should not be indulging in his feelings. He could lose everything by doing this. But as his best friend kissed him back and threaded his fingers in his hair, Kyoya's mind went blissfully blank and he put his arms around Tamaki's neck to press him even closer to him, being careful not to hurt his injured hand. Tamaki's lips were so soft and warm, and he tasted like cinnamon and sunshine — it sounded insane, Kyoya knew, but it was the only way he could describe it.

And when they parted, Kyoya knew that he was done for. The kiss had done nothing but make his feelings more certain.

What have I just done?

"Kyo-Kyoya?" Tamaki spluttered, his voice no more than a whisper. Painfully hot tears welled up in Kyoya's eyes, and he vainly attempted to blink them away. The last thing he needed on top of everything else was for Tamaki to see him cry, and so he then angrily turned his face away from the blond as the tears streamed down his cheeks. "Kyoya? Are you...crying?"

Kyoya wiped away his tears using the striped sleeves of his purple coat, stood up, and just ran. He needed to get out of the maze, needed to get away from what had just happened. He could hear Tamaki repeatedly calling after him, but he did not look back. Heaven knew that if he did, he would walk straight back to the blond.

He could not let that happen.

His coat flowed behind him as he kept on running, and Kyoya probably would have internally laughed at how needlessly dramatic the scene was if he had not been feeling so sick. He also really should have been more careful about maintaining his image, but he could not care less. He had to get away and run as far as he could so that maybe, just maybe, all of this would end up not being real.

Thankfully, nobody was there to see him racing towards the parking garage — the few that were still at Ouran were helping to take down all the decorations that had been put up for the fair. Thankfully. 

He did not remember getting into his family's Mercedes or the ride back to the Ootori mansion, nor did he respond to the worried looks Hotta gave him. It was not long, however, before the car was pulling up to the front entrance of the mansion, and Kyoya soon found himself standing in a foyer that was all too familiar. 

The Ootori mansion was, as usual, empty with the exception of the servants and himself. His father had not returned from Ouran yet, and his brothers had been told to go attend an emergency business meeting. Fuyumi was...somewhere. Kyoya’s stomach churned at the resounding silence, and he went to his room and up into the bedroom loft, where he took off his glasses and flopped ungracefully onto the king-sized bed. He cursed as his right hand landed roughly on the mattress. Stupid cars being so hard to dent. Stupid emotions getting the best of him. Stupid everything, honestly. Now his hand burned on top of everything else.

Kyoya then buried his head in his pillow and cried, hot tears staining the pillow as rivers of pent-up emotions rose to the surface.

It felt both cathartic and confusing, crying.

He tried to remember the last time he truly cried, but he could only recall the time he had heard Tamaki play the piano for the first time and had managed to completely change his worldview in the span of a single afternoon. He had not even cried when his mother had left all those years ago, as his father had insisted that he forget her. He sometimes wondered if he would have cried about it anyway if he had foreseen what the future had in store for him. Perhaps he would have, but he was now crying over Tamaki instead, a flirtatious idiot whose main claim to fame was his ability to destroy any plan in a matter of seconds. How ironic.

After what seemed like several hours, he finally grew tired and fell asleep. His dreams were strangely convoluted, filled with violets, a beautiful blond-haired man, and feather-light kisses under delicate, pale moonlight. Instead of peace and joy, however, he felt nothing but dread as his fictional companion laughed and smiled at him. He had to wonder if he ought to be so happy, if he ought to stop himself from indulging in the blond's touch.

It was not worth it, even in his faux paradise.

The next morning, when his alarm rang, he mustered up the energy to throw it across the room. The dreams had not done anything to help him, and he felt nothing short of miserable. His throat hurt, his body was feverish and sore, and his mind was numb. Still, he knew that he should get up and go to school anyway. His academics mattered too much for him to ruin his perfect attendance over a silly thing like this, after all. But when an attempt to move only resulted in him feeling even sorer, he reluctantly admitted that this "fever" would probably only get worse if he insisted on going to school. And so he stayed in bed, barely moving a muscle.

After around an hour, Tachibana stepped into his bedroom. "Master, are you not going to get up? You didn't even change out of your clothes from yesterday."

"I feel sick, 'Bana," Kyoya managed to say groggily. "I'm staying home."

"Sick?" Tachibana put a hand on Kyoya's forehead to check if he had a temperature. "You are a little warm...Shall I call you in sick, Master Kyoya?" There was some hesitancy, as if Tachibana knew something was up but decided to not mention it out of politeness.

"Yes, please," Kyoya said before burying his face in his pillow. Tachibana, looking concerned, muttered something to himself about getting him a glass of water before he left to make the necessary calls. By himself again, Kyoya then tried to go back to sleep, but his phone began to ping incessantly. He rolled over on his side, careful as to not crush his right hand, and groped around with his left hand before finally managing to grab his phone and flipping it open. Tamaki had apparently been trying to contact him, his emoticon-ridden texts multiplying by the minute.

Tamaki: MOMMY! ?U@? I WAN2TLK TO YOUUUUU! (^O^)

Kyoya's heart skipped a beat as a wave of nausea overcame him. Tamaki had wanted to talk with him? He would have thought that the blond would have hated him after what happened. Or at least be very uncomfortable.

Tamaki: I'VE BN W8N 4EVA! COME! ('A`)

Tamaki: CLASS IS STARTING! (ﾟдﾟ)

Tamaki: KYOYAAAAAAAA ~

Tamaki: HELLOOO! (≧ロ≦)

Tamaki: r u trying to avoid me? dya wan2tlk abt it?（´,_ゝ`)

Kyoya's stomach lurched violently as he deciphered the texts, only serving to make him feel even sicker and more nauseated. Why was Tamaki being so damn nice about everything? If the blond had been anyone else, Kyoya would have believed that the kindness was forced, but Tamaki never faked anything. Not even the tears he shed while hosting were fake. 

Tamaki: OTL

Tamaki: R u ok? (≧ロ≦)

Tamaki: R U DEAD!?!

Tamaki: KYOYA

Tamaki: KYOYA OOTORI

Tamaki: MAMAAAAA

He smiled for a moment before his nausea was replaced by the feeling of snakes — not butterflies, but snakes — in his stomach. He typed a quick response.

Kyoya: Fever. Not coming today.

Then, just for good measure:

Kyoya: No need for you to come over, though. I don't want to talk about what happened, so forget about it and leave me alone.

He set his phone back on his nightstand and pulled his blanket over himself. Tachibana soon returned with a set of silk pajamas and a glass filled with cool water. Kyoya noticed that he had not brought any medicine.

"I told them that you are going to be absent. Your work for today will be emailed to you later this afternoon."

"Thank you, Tachibana," Kyoya croaked as he sat up, the blanket still draped around him, and drank all of the water.

Tachibana humbly nodded and placed the glass on the night. He watched as his bodyguard silently left the room before he got up to change into his pajamas, which was a struggle as his injured hand was effectively useless. Kyoya then wrapped himself in his blanket and tried to go back to sleep.

Suddenly, his phone pinged once again, and he groaned before reaching for it again.

Tamaki: NOOO! MOMMY MUST GET BETTERRRRR!

Kyoya felt bile rise up his throat, the snakes swirling with vengeance inside his stomach. He immediately set the phone back down and began to cry into his pillow. Again. He was not sure what to make of all his self pitying tears or why he could not get himself to stop crying over the stupid kiss, but he did know that there was no way he could avoid Tamaki forever. What was he going to do when it was time to face him? What would he do when Tamaki finally rejected his feelings and their friendship splintered in half? Kyoya liked routine and the predictable. Craved it, almost. Even the chaos of the Host Club could be foreseen for the most part if one made the right observations. What would he do if he could no longer depend on the stability of his friendship with Tamaki? 

He must have fallen asleep eventually from the exhaustion that he still felt from before, because he later woke up to the smell of jasmine tea and Fuyumi's loud greeting.

"KYOYAAA! Tamaki called and told me you were sick!" his sister cried, practically shoving a teacup into his hands as he sat up groggily. He internally groaned as he then accepted the cup and started drinking the tea. Why had Tamaki told her that he was sick? She certainly meant well and he most certainly appreciated her concern, but at the moment all Kyoya wanted to be was alone. Unfortunately, that could not happen when Fuyumi had so enthusiastically invited herself into his room. 

Oh well, at least she had brought him tea, which was making him feel slightly better physically. He was still debating whether it was worth kicking her out or not when she sat down on the bed next to him. He watched her watch him for a few minutes as he continued taking small sips of the beverage he had been offered, the silence heavy as he slowly finished the entire cup.

"I'm fine, Fuyumi. Leave me alone."

"No, you're not fine," Fuyumi replied breezily, taking the now-empty teacup and setting it on the nightstand. "You don't have a temperature at all. What's actually wrong? I know that the day before yesterday was rather, you know...I heard that Father..." 

She trailed off as she took a good look at his face for the first time that morning, and Kyoya half-wondered what she had found so shocking.

"What?"

"Kyoya, your eyes are all red!" She grabbed his pillow, checking her hypothesis. "And this is soaked! Were you crying?"

He took back the pillow with an annoyed huff. "It was a long day yesterday," Kyoya sighed before lying down and burying his face into his pillow. While he liked that she worried about him, it was frustrating to have his older sister baby him around.

"Don't be like that. Why were you crying?"

He sighed before turning on his side so that he could see her face. "Fuyumi, will you just leave me alone?"

"Kyoya, please?" Fuyumi begged, bringing out her puppy eyes. Kyoya sighed once again. "Talk to me?"

There was almost no difference between his sister and Tamaki.

"Fine." Fuyumi smiled warmly as he sat back up. "First of all, Tamaki almost left Ouran and went back to France. We had to go get him back. Can you believe the moron?"

"That's certainly something," Fuyumi replied with an uncharacteristic frown. "But something else happened, didn't it? You wouldn't feel sick to your stomach just because of that."

Kyoya glared at her. "I was about to get to that." Fuyumi squeaked in response, and Kyoya took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. "After the fair, Tamaki and I talked a bit about his stupid decision to leave, and...I...I was so stupid..."

"You are not stupid," she replied reproachfully. "Kyoya, what did you do?"

Kyoya swallowed painfully, knowing that he could not lie to her without it coming back to bite him. "I kissed him, Fuyumi."

Fuyumi gave a startled gasp that only made him feel ill again. "Oh, that's wonderful! I had a feeling something was going on between you two." She went on to ramble about the "wonders of love."

Kyoya shook his head, and his heart kept sinking. "There's nothing between us, Fuyumi, and there never will be. I don't think Tamaki even feels that way about me." Fuyumi grabbed his right hand and was about to say something when he yelped in pain.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't know you hurt your hand. Is it bad?"

"I think I may have fractured something. Do we have an ulnar gutter splint lying around? I'll go get my hand x-rayed later today. I was going to go get it done yesterday, but with everything that hap-"

Fuyumi was gone before he could finish speaking. It did not take long before she was back, waving the splint she had found rather enthusiastically. "Here you go! I looked around the equipment we have lying around and I found this," she said eagerly, as if she were a puppy who was waiting to be praised for a good deed. Kyoya took the splint and gingerly put it around his hand.

"Okay, I was about to say something...Oh yeah. How do you know Tamaki doesn't feel the same way about you?"

"He loves Haruhi. I know he does. Who doesn't, really? Haruhi's rather exceptional." Kyoya sighed. "He makes it so easy to love him, but I make it so hard to love me."

There was a pained expression on Fuyumi's face now. "Kyoya..."

Kyoya ignored her, though a small part of him wanted her to disagree, wanted her to somehow convince him otherwise even if what she was saying was not true. "Even if he did like me by some miracle, he'd be much happier with her than he would be with me. She'd be happy with him, too."

"Aww, come on. Don't be so selfless and assume things like that."

Kyoya looked into her onyx eyes, so similar to his own but much softer and gentler. He could hardly guess where all her warmth and kindness came from. "You think..." He shook his head. "Fuyumi, even if it were true, it'd never work. You know that while Father may eventually decide over time that a deeper connection to the Suohs would be useful for him, he would still react very, very badly to the news. And Tamaki's grandmother already hates Tamaki enough. I can't ruin the effort he has been putting into making her warm up to him."

Fuyumi forced a smile, worry in her eyes. "Just talk to Tamaki, okay? Please?"

Kyoya just stared at her as she stood up to head out of the room, unsure as to how she could be so optimistic about something like this. “It’s not that easy.”

“I know. But it’s the right thing to do, for Tamaki's sake.” 

The words stayed with him as she left. Unfortunately, she did have somewhat of a point, he decided before again lying down and bringing the pillow up against his chest. Whatever he planned to do, he must at least attempt to talk things through with Tamaki once he sorted out his feelings.

He could only hope that Tamaki would have the heart to still remain his friend afterward.

Fuyumi was gone from the mansion before long, and a few hours must have then passed by in an anxiety-filled haze when familiar squeals and shouts suddenly began to echo across the mansion. Kyoya's stomach lurched unhelpfully as he quickly reached for his glasses and put them on, even though it felt uncomfortable to wear them while lying down.

Why was he here? He had specifically told Tamaki to not come. And was the idiot arguing with the guards in the foyer?

Then again, Kyoya knew too well that he perhaps should have seen this coming. Tamaki was Tamaki, after all. He would never truly change when it came to matters of his heart, and that meant that it was only natural for the blond to ignore Kyoya's instructions and come to the Ootori mansion to check on him when he knew Kyoya was feeling unwell. In fact, he thought uncomfortably, it was a wonder that Tamaki had not decided to skip school to take care of him, as he had sometimes with the other hosts whenever they had gotten sick.

But then he remembered his conversation with Fuyumi, and everything clicked. Was this her doing? She must have secretly called Tamaki and insisted that he come visit him. She was an Ootori, after all.

A soon-to-be-dead one, at this rate.

Just talk to Tamaki, okay? Please?

"MON AMI! Are you feeling better?" Tamaki screeched, suddenly appearing in the doorway, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

Once he had recovered, Kyoya sighed and reluctantly turned so that he was facing Tamaki. He had no choice, so he might as well get it over with while he still could. "I told you not to come, Tamaki."

"Have you been crying?" the blond asked, his voice raised in surprise, his eyes immediately meeting his.

Kyoya looked away much too quickly for it to be nothing, something he knew Tamaki would not miss. "Yes, but I don't want to talk about it," he admitted unwillingly, squeezing his pillow for emphasis.

"Oh? I'm your best friend, though..." He looked despondent at Kyoya's unwillingness to confide in him, and Kyoya felt his heart drop in his chest. Even though he so badly wanted to tell Tamaki the truth and had finished planning out what he wanted to tell him once the time came, he could not get the words out now that Tamaki was actually here.

Maybe later, Kyoya promised himself. Maybe later. It's too fresh in both our minds. For now, Kyoya made his reply as full of angst as he could. Maybe being dramatic would make his words register in Tamaki's mind, as ridiculous as the idea sounded. "Yes, you are my best friend, but if I explain everything to you, I assure you that I'll be doomed for all eternity." Well, that was awkward. What on Earth was I thinking? I'm never putting words together like that again.

The blond laughed, shocking Kyoya into silence. "And you say I'm dramatic! Never has telling the truth to a good friend caused much trouble in the long run. At least not as much trouble as when the other person finds out the truth by themselves." His arms gracefully waved around to emphasize his words.

Kyoya thought about this for a moment. He didn't agree, but he had to say that it was a sound statement nevertheless. This, he decided, was what made Tamaki so fascinating. "That's very wise of you to say, but also very naïve, Tamaki. Of course it has. Just not in ways that other people can easily tell."

Tamaki nodded, acknowledging his point. "I think you're just scared that I'd judge you too harshly." He then frowned. "Can't you tell me what's wrong? You aren't really sick, are you?"

Kyoya nervously ran his fingers through his hair as he thought about how to reply. There was no escape he could find, though, and Tamaki deserved the truth if he was going to be so insistent upon getting it. "No, not physically. What if I'm not telling you the truth because it would jeopardize something that I can't afford to lose?"

Tamaki looked shockingly indignant at this. "What could possibly go wrong if you explain to me what happened? I'm your best friend! It's not like I'd use the information to hurt you!"

Kyoya's left hand balled into a fist, and his fingernails dug into his palm. Why did Tamaki not understand how delicate the whole situation was? Was he really ready for what the answer was? "You wouldn't hurt me with it intentionally, but you will in a way you don't understand. And don't act like you have no idea as to why I kissed you. Perhaps you don't fully understand exactly why, but you must have some clue."

"I don't..." The blond's expression shifted to one of dumbfoundedness, completely oblivious to what Kyoya was trying to insinuate.

This only irritated Kyoya even more. "Based on the amount of time I spend with you, and the sheer amount of patience I have to have to do so." It was a thinly veiled insult, but Tamaki did not seem to catch on. "Has the idea never crossed your mind? I think...I love you? I don't even know anymore. All I know is that I can't stop thinking about you in a way that I shouldn't!"

Tamaki's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish's, the same heartbroken, perplexed look on his face as when Haruhi had asked if Yoshio had gotten upset because Kyoya was a member of the Host Club. "Wh-What?"

Kyoya clenched his fist even tighter and looked away from Tamaki, not acknowledging the pain slicing through his hand. He had said his truth, and he was done. There was nothing more he could do. "It's fine. I've decided. I don't like you like that. It's not like you'd ever care, anyway." Kyoya buried his face deep into the softness of the pillow, and wet tears began to stain the fabric.

When the blond did not reply, Kyoya thought he had left. But then he felt the mattress sink beside him, and a soft, manicured hand ran through his raven locks. He hated the way he tensed and then relaxed under the touch.

"Kyoya, I'm sorry. I'm so oblivious. Even after you kissed me, I didn't think...I didn't know you were serious."

He has to be kidding me. "Idiot," Kyoya choked, trying to push Tamaki's hand away. 

"Kyoya, I love you, too."

Kyoya felt his breath catch in his throat as he slowly moved his pillow and turned around so that he could look up at the blond. Surely he was now hearing things. Either that or Tamaki was far more stupid and sacrificial than he believed, which was saying quite a lot. "But what about Haruhi? What about your grandmother?"

"I do love Haruhi, but not like that. I might have before, I think, but not anymore. And she doesn't like me like that, either, Kyoya. She told me that yesterday before she left." He let out a soft sigh, and Kyoya knew the words were more than honest. "As for my grandmother, so what if she won't approve? My father wanted me to make my choice and follow my heart, and I here I am. Even if it hurts that my family might remain separated, I love you."

Kyoya looked into Tamaki's earnest violet eyes and willed himself to believe. But that was always Tamaki's strong suit, not his.

"You can't give up on your family, Tamaki. Try to win over Haruhi and eventually marry her instead. Or marry Eclair. Even that would be better."

The blond's expression dropped. "Is that what you want, Kyoya? For me to give up on you? Is that better?"

It was not fair. "Tamaki..."

Kyoya's heart broke as Tamaki continued. "Listen to me. You've sacrificed almost everything to satisfy everyone around you. Why don't you let yourself follow your heart and live for once? Please?"

I can't. He bit his bottom lip and felt his vision clouding as he watched Tamaki's expression shatter. No, I can't cry now. "René..."

Tamaki — radiant, beautiful Tamaki — was then crying in his place, tears streaming down his too-pretty face. Kyoya looked away and buried his head in his pillow again, his own chest aching harder than it ever had in his life, but there was no way he could not block out the sound of the other's sobs. I did this to him. "Please don't run away from me again."

Kyoya shook his head much too violently as he struggled not to break down in front of the blond. He could not let himself cave in, not when it would cause so much suffering in the end for Tamaki. He could not make Tamaki do something he was bound to regret. "René, no. We can't do this."

"But what if I told you that you are the one thing that has kept me happy during my stay in Japan? The one reason I was so upset that I felt that I should move to France with Eclair? It was never about the Host Club or the fangirls, Kyoya.” The sobs grew louder, each tiny choke like a knife in Kyoy’s chest. “It was about you. I love you, Kyoya. I want you. So tell me, what do you really want? How do you really feel?"

He... Kyoya slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, his resolution fading into shock and then into tentative acceptance as he stared into Tamaki's violet eyes. I...What do I really want?

What was truly selfish, Kyoya decided as he recalled his thoughts from the previous night, was that he still secretly wanted Tamaki and Haruhi to not be together. Tamaki deserved so much better than a person like him, no matter what way he looked at it or how much it broke his heart. His question from earlier — whether or not he wanted them to be together — was meaningless in the end, because the whole situation had never been about what he wanted. 

But if Tamaki wanted him...

Shit.

I love him too much.

"You hope for too much, mon amour." His voice cracked, the French feeling foreign and uncertain on his tongue despite the many lessons Tamaki had given him through the years. 

Tamaki put a hand on Kyoya's cheek and gently brushed away his tears, his soft touch melting away any doubts that Kyoya still had. "I know."

"I want you to stay." His voice was no louder than a whisper. "And I'm tired. I'm tired of running from my feelings, tired of acting like the perfect son in hopes of pleasing the implacable, and I'm tired of pretending I don't care." 

"Oh, Kyoya. Ça va aller bien." Tamaki wiped away his own tears and smiled as he took Kyoya's right hand and kissed the splint covering it, causing Kyoya to flush a delicate shade of pink. "Do you trust me?"

Kyoya swallowed. "I...I trust you."

"I love you so much, Kyoya." Tamaki's smile grew, becoming blinding in its radiance. 

"I love you, too." Kyoya felt his heart lighten for the first time in so long. "So you really love me?"

The blond laughed in response, and Kyoya's blush deepened as he kissed his hand again. "That's so cute, Kyoya."

Kyoya's eyebrow twitched in irritation. Of course it was never going to be long before Tamaki was unable to help himself from flirting and lightly taking advantage of the fact that Kyoya was not used to genuine compliments. He silently cursed the idiot's princely hosting techniques and vowed to get his revenge sooner or later.

Still, Kyoya could not help the tiny smile that spread across his face. I cannot ask for anything better than this absolute moron.

Tamaki chuckled and kissed his hand yet again. "Aww, did I fluster you? I really do love you, mon amour. We are Mommy and Daddy, after all."

“Moron!” Kyoya recovered as he then swatted at him with his free hand and faked a scowl, thanking god that Tamaki was internally a bumbling buffoon. It would make it easier for him to get the blond back for this when he wanted to. If he wanted to.

A giddy feeling rose in his chest as he realized that he now had all the time in the world to do so, because oh god, Tamaki actually loved him and wanted to be with him.

Tamaki, sensing an opportunity, took his flailing hand and pulled him close. “Don’t be angry, Kyoya. All this is supposed to be bittersweet.” 

Ever the one for theatrics. Kyoya chuckled slightly as their foreheads touched. "Bittersweet, huh?"

Tamaki grinned and tucked Kyoya's bangs behind his right ear, his light touch burning Kyoya's skin. He then leaned in even more, and Kyoya caught the faint scent of roses before the blond gently pressed their lips together.

And this time, it felt right.

"You taste like tea, chili chocolate, and mint!" Tamaki said with a giggle as they parted, his eyes sparkling with childish glee. "Hehe. You're so cute ~"

Again, what is it with me being cute? Kyoya rolled his eyes as a slight blush colored his cheeks. Oh yes, he was definitely going to get his revenge later. "You're an idiot."

"Your idiot ~" Tamaki replied, his voice still singsong.

Kyoya smiled before taking off his glasses and leaning in for another kiss. "My idiot."

Chapter Text

Kyoya knew better than to expect that the happiness would last for long. 

“Akari Shioji, a classmate of yours, recently announced her relationship with the daughter of the CEO of a small technology firm based in the United States. How naïve she is, thinking that she could find happiness that way.”

Yoshio delivered the news matter-of-factly while they had been eating dinner, his face a mixture of calculating neutrality and general disgust. It was only too bad, Kyoya thought, that Akito had not been there at the moment, as he would undoubtedly have had some choice — albeit amusing — words regarding how “improper” the heiress’ behavior was. However, the second Ootori son was currently in Spain, leaving Kyoya and Yoshio to dine alone together.

How wonderfully convenient.

"I don't understand why she couldn't have gone for a more traditional and beneficial relationship," Yoshio continued, his expression now sharp as he picked up some rice using his chopsticks. "It is idiocy no matter how in love she is. Logic should dictate appropriateness, should it not? Matters of family and wealth hinge on too much."

Kyoya kept his own face impressively impassive and calm, but his left hand slowly twitched until the chopsticks in them snapped cleanly in half. He immediately checked for injuries and brushed himself off to make sure no pieces got on his clothes, his face still blank. “Shioji-san is a hard worker and deserves what happiness she can get."

She deserves it more than me, for sure.

“You know what I mean, Kyoya.” Yoshio stopped eating to look at him, his face hardly hiding (relative to his typical standards) how intrigued he had been by his son’s reaction.

Kyoya set down his broken chopsticks and reached beside him to grab a new pair. “If she finds happiness in another girl, if her heart does not follow the more traditional path, who are we to judge her for it? Love can be strange, sir. Logic is not all that is worthwhile in this world, and even in business, it is worth considering the more...subjective side of things to cater to the more human sentiments of clients.”

Before he could stop himself, he stood up and headed towards the door, leaving the food on his plate untouched.

“Suoh taught me that.”

Kyoya could not help but briefly relish the look of horror which momentarily crossed Yoshio's face before the elder Ootori managed to veil his emotions again. He would like to imagine he was less impulsive and emotional than his other half, but clearly time was proving him wrong over and over again.

“Don’t tell me you’re...”

Am what? A disgrace? I was already aware. Haven’t you been trying to tell me that since I was old enough to understand?

"...like her."

With those two words, Kyoya was done, so done with everything that Yoshio and the Ootori Group represented. He told Fuyumi all those weeks ago that he had expected his father to react badly to the news, and so far Yoshio was not disappointing.

If there was a tinge of hurt that was still blooming stubbornly in his chest at the fact that Yoshio would likely never subvert his expectations in the parenting department, he swallowed it bitterly.

“Yes, I am. If that is going to be a problem, then go ahead and disown me.” The words seemed to echo in the heavy silence, and Kyoya wanted to bite his own tongue off.

The Ootori patriarch set down his chopsticks, appearing stunned by this turn of events, his glasses almost opaque as the light from the chandelier overhead. “Kyoya, you know I can’t support this. You cannot possibly be the heir if this is how you behave. Human sentiments are influential, but rationality should guide your life and business practices. You can't expect to throw away your image and for me to be okay with that.”

“I already know that you were unwilling to actually name me heir, despite my merits and your logical thoughts regarding the matter. You don’t need to play mind games with me to get me to understand how you feel about this.” 

“Kyoya Ootori, don’t you speak to me that way, especially after proving yourself to be a far greater disgrace than I had thought you would be.” Yoshio's glasses glinted ominously. "You will sit down and finish your dinner, and the two of us will then have a talk once you're actually thinking. You know you are far too much like me to use your heart over your head."

"No." Kyoya put his hand on the handle of the door, the cool metal burning his hand as he looked straight into his father’s eyes. “I’m leaving for now.”

Yoshio's face was unreadable as he started eating again. "So you have made your choice." The chopsticks made a soft clicking sound, as if to accent the sharp tone.

“So I have.”

"May such sloppy cost-benefit analysis be worth it. I'll need to make certain decisions. Don't expect me to change your mind if this is temporary for you. The world never works like that."

Kyoya shivered as he exited the mansion for what could very possibly be the last time, if he had read his father's intentions correctly. He had not grabbed any of his belongings in his haste to leave, and he hoped that either Fuyumi or his bodyguards would find a way to get his things sent to wherever he ended up staying. It was not like he particularly wanted anything he had bought using Ootori money, but the small things the other hosts had gifted him through the years were close to invaluable to him (even if he hardly acted like they were and even if most were useless from a practical standpoint). 

But that was if he even managed to find somewhere to stay in the first place. He had made more than enough money by himself from various investments, but who would easily rent to a seventeen-year-old? He no longer had his family’s influence on his side, either, if his father were to seriously act on his threat. At best, he would have to find someone he could silence with a reasonable amount of money, which was not exactly desirable for a long-term plan.

Fuyumi, Yuichi, and my bodyguards will be devastated when they hear I’m gone.

Akito...I’m not sure.

This is certainly messy. It’s not like I hadn’t expected this to eventually happen, and I’m far more worried about Tamaki’s grandmother, but...

How am I so unprepared when I had planned this outcome?

He ended up walking all the way to the second Suoh estate, trying his best to ignore the biting cold sensation piercing him from the inside out. Every freezing breath felt like daggers in his chest, and he longed for a coat. It was not supposed to have been a chilly night, though. If anything, he was wearing too many layers as it was.

Why am I so cold?

Yuzaru Suoh, who must have been visiting Tamaki, was the first to greet him as he entered the mansion. "Kyoya? Are you here for something?” His voice sounded startlingly distant, and Kyoya could just barely make out the words. “Would you like Uncle to have dinner set out for you?"

Kyoya very slightly shook his head in response, and the chairman's smile dropped. It was funny, in a way, how Yuzaru looked more worried in that instant than his own father ever had in Kyoya’s memory. "Is something wrong?" 

As much as he wanted to tell him what Yoshio had done, Kyoya’s throat was much too painful and dry for him to verbally express what he was feeling. How could he possibly explain everything, anyway?

Yuzaru smiled sadly as he gently patted Kyoya's cheek, and he knew he understood. It was a strange feeling, really. "Tamaki’s upstairs in his room. Perhaps you’d like to see him?"

Kyoya nodded, a numb kind of relief calming his mind. He then offered a small thanks in response before heading over to where he already knew Tamaki’s room was.

The blond opened the door before he could even knock, and Kyoya found himself shivering again as he tried to take in Tamaki’s appearance. He felt Tamaki’s expression turn from joyful to worried as he walked inside and then silently sat on the luxurious bed in the center of the room.

“Kyoya? What’s wrong?” Tamaki’s voice, too, sounded as if it came from the end of a tunnel. Kyoya was glad for the lack of theatrics, at least. “Did your father do something?”

Kyoya just sat there, immoble, as he wrapped the comforter on the bed around himself and tried to work out exactly what was going on with him.

I’m so, so cold.

“Hey, Kyoya, it’s okay.” He could just barely make out Tamaki’s concerned expression, his violet eyes still blown wide open in concern and his brow still furrowed. “Can you hear me?”

Kyoya vaguely felt a hand grab his own, but he was unable to fully process Tamaki’s light touch. It was too much, everything was too much. But he could not say so. Instead, he managed a tiny, almost imperceptible nod in response to Tamaki’s question. 

I feel cold, Tamaki.

Tamaki started massaging the hand he was gripping, and Kyoya shivered slightly as the nerves in his hand protested. “Kyoya, you need to reconnect with your surroundings. You’re panicking and too much in your head right now.” The blond then grabbed the pitcher on his nightstand (he had been drinking iced tea, Kyoya would later process) and fished out a piece of ice using a spoon. “I know you must feel really cold right now, but can you focus on this for me?”

Before Kyoya could muster any sort of reaction, Tamaki pressed the ice gently against his left hand. The ice was cold, painfully cold, and he let out a little gasp at the feeling. His senses had assuredly been in overdrive, and his hand now felt as if it were on fire.

Still, Tamaki wanted him to focus on the cold, so Kyoya let the sensation travel up his arms and through his body. Slowly, the ice began to drive out the static in his head.  

“It’s freezing cold,” he replied bluntly, his ability to speak finally slowly returning to him. His voice was barely above a whisper and the words came out cracked, making his boyfriend’s expression soften. 

While Kyoya usually hated the sympathy of others, he caved this time and let Tamaki take care of him. The blond encouraged him to take the piece of ice from him and hold it with both hands. The cold was less biting now, and he no longer felt so numb and overwhelmed. 

“Kyoya, do you feel better now?” Tamaki gently rested his hand on Kyoya’s cheek, and Kyoya rather clumsily put a hand over his to keep it there. Both of their hands were still cold from the ice, but he so badly wanted the touch.

He needed the touch, actually, now that he could feel again. He felt so tired, his mind was so scattered, and Tamaki’s hand and the ice were the only things keeping him together at this point.

“Kyoya? Please talk to me.”

You feel warm. Like the Sun. Since when do I think of people like that?

“Yeah,” he slowly responded, his voice still quiet. “Yeah, I’m just tired.”

Tamaki smiled as he sat down next to him, and Kyoya’s heart warmed. “Good.” 

Kyoya was then pulled into a tight hug. Swathed in Tamaki’s warmth and the smell of roses, he let himself breathe. 

“You are perfectly okay, mon amour,” Tamaki soothed as he stroked Kyoya’s hair. “You’re okay.”

Is everything truly okay? 

What will you say when I tell you that I most likely have gotten disowned? 

“My father—” Kyoya managed to whisper.

“Shh. You can tell me later. Why don’t you stay with me for as long as you want? You don’t need to go back home just yet.” Tamaki shifted so that he was now lying down, and he pulled Kyoya down beside him. Kyoya then felt Tamaki’s fingers move all the way up to his face, where they pulled at his glasses and carefully took them off. “You look so different without your glasses. Almost too beautiful.”

The way Tamaki’s fingers lingered on his face was almost reverential, too much and not enough all at once.

”Your eyes are especially beautiful.”

You really think they’re beautiful, huh? 

Kyoya let out a little sniffle as he moved in closer to Tamaki and buried his head deep in the blond's chest, a strange display of vulnerability he was most definitely not used to. “Thank you, for everything. Can we sleep?” 

Would you really let me live here if I wanted to stay? I don’t think I would care about getting disowned if...if you would let me stay.

“Sure.” Tamaki’s smile was sweeter than cotton candy, and Kyoya felt the taste of too-sweet buttercream frosting on his tongue at the sight. "Sure."

Kyoya gingerly lifted his head from Tamaki’s chest and kissed him. The blond’s lips were feather-light and warm, and he tasted like sunshine and salt. Tamaki was crying, and Kyoya pulled away in surprise. 

Of course Tamaki was crying. When would he stop making him cry? It was all he was good for, it seemed. He would always be too blunt, too calculating, too distant.

Kyoya bit his lip. “Tamaki, what’s wrong?”

His boyfriend did not answer, instead leaning in for another wet, salty kiss. Somehow, it was still perfect. “I wish you didn’t have to go back to your house.”

He was...confused. “I thought you said that I could stay with you for a while.”

You don’t have to let me stay. I'll find somewhere else.

“No, I know. I meant that I wish you could stay here permanently.” 

You still hope for too much, you know that? “Tamaki, that’s crazy.”

The hafu’s cries only grew louder, making Kyoya's head spin. “I know. I just hate your father and wish you never had to go back. Ever. And I want you to always be with me. That way I won’t have to miss you.”

You're definitely going to hate him more, aren't you? Such ugly emotions don't suit you...But people like you will never not care too much. Somehow, I fell in love with that. With you.

“That’s childish. Don’t you dare cry on my behalf.”

“I do what I want, Kyoya!”

Kyoya chuckled wetly despite himself, unable to not react to the dramatic sentiment. “What am I going to do with you?”

You’re incredible.

“Don’t be mean!” Tamaki whined, but then he laughed and Kyoya’s heart leaped in his chest. 

“I do what I want.” It would have been an apt response if his voice had not continued refusing to go louder than a whisper. 

Tamaki gave up the theatrics when he heard the words, and he then smiled and pulled him close again. “Come on, mon amour. Let’s sleep.” 

It was so tempting. “I didn’t mean together. Your father might catch us,” Kyoya replied softly. "Your grandmother wouldn't approve."

Tamaki tightly wrapped his arms around Kyoya, and for the first time in a long while Kyoya could feel something resembling comfort. He could hear Tamaki’s heartbeat, steady and soothing in a way nothing else ever was. “You know he wouldn’t tell her. Like I told you, he would want me to follow my heart. And even if he did decide to tell her, it’s not like it would change my feelings for you.”

Kyoya nuzzled against the crook of the blond’s neck, letting himself melt despite the way his mind was swimming. “That’s very rash of you to say.”

“Aren’t I always? But we both knew doing this would be very illogical. Love is illogical.” Tamaki gave him an ethereal smile that rather embarrassingly quieted his thoughts. “I love you, Kyoya.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kyoya’s lips, and he wrapped his legs around Tamaki’s to pull himself closer to the warmth of his boyfriend’s body. 

“I love you, René.”

Maybe that’s enough. It has to be.