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Tamaki loved the club room. From the elaborate parties and interesting costumes, to even the most simplest of days, being a host in this club room was phenomenal. The days he liked it best, however, were the quiet days. The days where they had no intention of hosting any women, and they each could be around in harmony. Tamaki shifted his head slightly, the movement of the shoulder he was resting on jostling too much for his enjoyment. Beside him, Kyoya wrote intently on his laptop, long fingers sliding over the keys as though he never once had to consider his words. Tamaki sighed deeply as he read the screen of the other boy.
"Tamaki, you really should work on the Japanese homework as well." Kyoya's voice was soft, slightly taunting in its tone.
"I know." He turned back to the manga in his hands, a children's comic he picked up from the commoner's supermarket with Haruhi last week. He heard Kyoya stop typing, and the solid click of the laptop being shut. Tamaki had been reading the same page for almost three minutes, the symbols not quite registering in his brain.
While his spoken language was getting better, and he was able to understand most Japanese that was spoken to him, he couldn't get the hang of reading in Japanese. The vertical lines, odd alphabet. He sighed, putting his head back on Kyoya's shoulder.
"Do you want me to read it to you?" Fingers carded through his hair with slow ease. Tamaki shook his head against his partner. Kyoya was good about how long it was taking him to really get the hang of Japanese. He had even begun attempting to learn French for him, but he said that the Duolingo bird mocked him so much he was filled with 'white hot rage' every time he got a word wrong.
Tamaki truly hated the language here. Most people were patient as he tripped over words, but there were so many phrases to remember, phrases and sounds and nonsense that he had to remember to sound like a true gentleman. He shifted to lay with his head on Kyoya's lap, still hot from where his computer used to be. The other boy chuckled and pet him.
"You're like a big cat."
"I wish I was a cat. They are simple lives." Tamaki looked out to the rest of the room. Haruhi and the Hitachiin brothers were sitting around a table. The twins were testing out sweets that Haruhi had got them from what they called a 'convenience store'. Mori and Hani were on one of the other couches, working on an assignment together. Tamaki was jealous of how they were all able to speak so quickly, without a second thought.
-
The kotatsu was warm, and Tamaki wiggled his feet under it, bumping into Kyoya's. He was just a little past the point of being sober, his hands grasped tightly around a mug filled with wine. Kyoya had tried to insist on using the proper wine glasses, but this was more fun. Kyoya bumped his feet back under the table. The kotatsu was covered in cheap snacks that Tamaki had taken a liking to, as well as the remains of the fancy dinner one of Kyoya's family chefs had brought them before retiring for the night. The TV played an American movie, dubbed over in Japanese, subtitled in French. Superheroes in tight costumes fought on the screen, but neither of them were paying much attention.
"Haruhi and Hikaru are too close! I do not like it!" His words slurred slightly, and he took another massive gulp of wine before Kyoya weaseled it out of his hands, placing it far away from the blonde.
"They're fine. We were too close before his happened." Kyoya bumped his feet again.
"Exactly! What if ce démon veut sortir avec mon enfant? Kyoya!" He held on to the 'a' sound at the end of his boyfriend's name, flopping onto the kotatsu. Kyoya snickered beside him.
"You've gone into French again, Tama."
"The.... you know what I mean!" It was far too late and he was far too warm to care about translating himself. Kyoya would understand him. He always did.
-
The host club was closing down for the day, and Tamaki was just about finished with his favourite customer. She was beautiful, a newer student from France who knew even less Japanese than he did, so their sessions were always in French. Oh, how he longed for the days of being able to conjure sonnets into the awaiting ears of French girls, speak stories into existence in a way that held a crowd.
He kissed her knuckles as she walked away, asking her to come back soon for another round of tea and conversation. As her skirt disappeared behind the door, he felt Kyoya's warm hand at his side. Tamaki leaned into the boy's touch, breathing him in. He was never jealous of when Japanese girls would speak to him, but for some reason, Kyoya was always extra touchy after a session with Ines.
Tamaki let himself be brought to one of the couches, and he curled up on it in Kyoya's arms. Kyoya was skinnier than him, almost awkward with his limbs at times, but he loved being the big spoon, or having Tamaki sit on his lap, and the blonde relished in that fact.
"What do you two talk about? You always sound so bright with her." Tamaki could feel Kyoya's chest rumble as he spoke from behind him.
"Everything. France, books, poetry. She miss it." He looked down at his hands, peeling at the clear polish on his nails.
"You miss it too." The statement was simple and true. Tamaki missed France every day.
"Yeah, but I have life in Japan. She is new still. It is hard." He nuzzled his head into the other's chin.
"I really can't imagine what you go through when you immigrate." Kyoya's thin arms wrapped around him, and Tamaki didn't feel like he needed to respond. Kyoya always knew what Tamaki needed, what he wanted to say without the words leaving his lips.
-
While Kyoya could understand him through his movements, his body, Haruhi could always understand what he was saying. They were sitting together in the club room after school, all the members working on different homework activities besides Kyoya, who had finished already. He sat nearby, working on assembling the next calendar for the club. Haruhi had just about finished their work and was helping Tamaki with his Japanese work. He had let himself become more and more disheveled as they worked, his tie discarded and jacket no where to be found, wrapped up in one of Hani's extra blankets.
Haruhi was writing as Tamaki spoke, recording his answers in a much more precise way. When Tamaki actually did his Japanese work by himself, he had to work around vocabulary he didn't know, making all of his answers long and confusing, but Haruhi was always able to make it concise.
"The D question is um... what the word for being thirsty for food? Starts with 'h'..."
"Hunger?" Haruhi's voice was soft as they corrected him. Tamaki bristled slightly. He hated not having some relatively important vocabulary words.
"Yeah, the man from... book part one said he was hungry for adventure." He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he watched Haruhi write.
"Very good! I think we're done!" Haruhi passed the completed sheet back over to him. Tamaki placed it in his binder, not caring enough to snap it in the rings.
"You're great at teaching Haru-chan!" Hani had made his way over, trying to get his hands on some of the candy on the table in front of them.
"Yeah, I guess I am. I used to always teach the neighborhood kids, and Tamaki is kinda like that." Tamaki blinked, and he heard Kyoya shift behind him, coming closer.
"What do you mean?"
"You talk like a kid, senpai. It's cute though!" Haruhi smiled as if they hadn't just ruined Tamaki's confidence. He knew. Tamaki knew far better than others that his sense of Japanese was poor, that he didn't sound like an adult, let alone a respectful son of a powerful family. But he tried. He was trying so hard. Kyoya had been reading to him, helping him understand words. The Hitachiins had stuck stickers all around his house with the Japanese for each of the items. Every night he had been watching TV programs or reading comics for kids, trying his best. All he could do was try his best, but sometimes they didn't get it. They poked fun at him sometimes, trying to be friendly.
He felt hot tears fill eyes, cheeks flushing red. It was embarrassing to be this way. Kyoya ran his knuckles across his back, and Tamaki pulled away.
"You don't know it! You don't know how hard it is! How smart I am in French! This... this is shit! I do not even want to be here, I don't want to be in Japan! But I have to, and it..." His words trickled out as his tears flowed down. Kyoya wrapped his arms around Tamaki tightly and pulled him away from the rest of the hosts to the sanctuary of a side room. Kyoya rubbed his back as Tamaki cried angry tears into his shoulder, Kyoya's lips ghosting over the shell of his ear.
"I'm sorry, Tamaki." Tamaki shook his head into Kyoya's shoulder, a sound coming from the bottom of his chest.
"Not your fault."
"I know, but it's not yours either." Kyoya took his face in his hands, thumbs sliding over the wet cheeks.
"J'taime." The word sounded clunky in Kyoya's mouth, the accent off. But he was trying, and that was all he could do.
"I love you too."