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Tamaki Suoh was an odd individual.
There had been many things Kyoya had noticed about Tamaki throughout the years of their close friendship. For example, Tamaki was extremely observant about a person's personality. He knew their motivations, their weaknesses, their feelings, just from a simple action they made or sentence they spoke. His specialty was love. There had been many times where Tamaki had the host club reunite a young couple, organize a confession, or he himself would handgift personal advice.
He was the king, and the lovesick youth were his subjects.
Tamaki wasn't a judgmental person was something Kyoya had also noticed. He accepted everyone into Music Room 3 - man, woman, young, old. He had made sure each host member knew that everyone deserved their love and attention (such a conversation had strangely made Kyoya's heart beat slightly faster then normal). It wasn’t just the clients - Tamaki was extremely accepting of his fellow club mates. Despite everyone’s constant eye rolls, the king always made sure every member felt at home in their music room.
Tamaki Suoh seemed to have all the time in the world for other people - but none for himself.
It was around three weeks ago, where Kyoya had noticed Tamaki was less...well, Tamaki. His perfect posture became the slightest slouched, his speeches lacked the upbeat tone and confidence it normally practically dripped with, and he was constantly checking himself in a mirror of some sort. That last part wasn’t unusual for Tamaki - the king took great pride in his appearance - but Kyoya had noticed a more...tired expression on the blonde’s face at every mirror check. Like every time his eyes met the glass he immediately regretted it. Like he hated what stared back.
He did. Tamaki did hate what stared back.
Kyoya knew a lot of things about Tamaki, there was no doubting that. For most things, Tamaki was an open book and Kyoya was a skilful reader. But there were certain words, pages, chapters that the king had written in invisible ink, ink that would never be readable by even the most thorough of readers.
Things such as how the ‘perfect’ king wore foundation to cover the freckles that kissed his cheeks. How he wore concealer to hide away the eye bags that had formed from sleepless nights of panic, fear, insecurity. How much he held back from constantly biting his nails from the anxiety of being left alone one day, that the host club, the club he adored so much would one day decide that Tamaki wasn’t good enough for them anymore. That they hated him. That they wished they had never joined this stupid club. That Kyoya would...
Kyoya.
Kyoya was smart. Kyoya would find these unreadable words soon enough. Then what? Would he leave? Would he see how pathetic and scared Tamaki was and turn on his heel without a word, never to return at the king’s side again?
It was thoughts like that that led Tamaki to the piano. Normally, he would play, let out all his feelings - happy, sad, angry, confused. He would let his fingertips explain, dancing across the keys and filling the empty music room with what his heart truly told him.
Not today.
Today, he was crying. Instead of the beautiful sounds of the piano keys, it was his loud sobs that echoed around the empty club room. Loud, heartfelt sobs that Tamaki didn’t even know he could make. He wasn’t even sure what he was crying at (probably his horrid thoughts) but his heart has decided to let everything out through this ugly method.
Kyoya stood frozen at the door. He knew better then anyone that Tamaki was always the last to leave Music Room 3, the black haired boy would often listen to his piano playing before he left himself. So when the sound of the king’s sobs met his ears, it was like Kyoya’s world went wrong. Tamaki never cried - at least not on purpose, he only ‘cries’ for clients. Tamaki laughed, he shouted, sang, announced, gasped.
All Kyoya did was listen. He couldn’t find it in himself to move, to go to the distraught prince and pet his shoulder, stroke his hair, hold him in his own arms. To tell his best friend that everything is okay, that he was right here. He couldn’t do it, as much as he wanted to - and Kyoya hated himself for it. What was stopping him? What the fuck was stopping him from comforting the one person he cared about and loved more then anyone in his damn life?!
He didn’t know. All Kyoya did was stand, listening to the king of love pour his heart to no one.