Work Text:
Kyoya has always been in love with Tamaki.
He also has been in love with Haruhi but it's slightly different than Tamaki; with Tamaki he is always dazzled and starstruck, he can never stop looking at the boy, with Haruhi he is tranquil and peaceful, she makes him feel safe and accepted.
He is in love with both of them and he knows they love each other.
And so he decides to step back, let them fall in love, let Tamaki realise his feelings naturally as Kyoya stays by his side through all of it.
Kyoya is satisfied with seeing the two people he cares about be happy, though sometimes, during his most vulnerable at night, he looks up at the ceiling and briefly wishes Tamaki's smile, blush, gaze were all directed at him.
He remembers how they first met, he recalls the kotatsu, he recalls the clothes he bought that now lay scattered all around his room's floor, much like his emotions when he's isolated and Tamaki crosses his mind.
It's a strange case of bittersweet, when ten years later Kyoya sees Haruhi cloaked in white, when he sees Tamaki in an extravagant suit, and they agree to a lifetime with each other, a lifetime he is definitely a part of, just not close enough.
Haruhi is aware—she always knows, Kyoya can't keep anything from her, damned—but she stays quiet, because she understands, and she is forever grateful to Kyoya for being with Tamaki all this time.
Tamaki is oblivious—damned man, he's stupider than ever—all he thinks is how he doesn't deserve the life he has, how he has a wonderful best friend he can't live without and a precious wife he would do anything for.
But his ridiculousness and oblivion is his charm—it's what brought those two to him—and nobody can hate him for long.
Kyoya curls up in his bed, longing for a warmth he never felt.