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Kyoya wonders, briefly, after everything, if his brothers will be impressed. Then he realizes he doesn’t particularly care. He wonders if Fuyumi will laugh, when she finds out, and figures that’s much more important to him.
His hand hurts from where he slammed it against the car, but he puts on a brave face (that’s what he does best, after all) and dances. When he twirls Haruhi around the dance floor, watching her laugh at him, he catches Tamaki staring. And he’s so overcome with emotion in that one moment, finally allowing himself to feel for the first time since this whole thing started, for the first time since he was six years old and learned that emotions get you nowhere. He takes Haruhi by the waist and hugs her close and leans down to whisper in her ear.
“Thank you,” he says, as collected as ever. “Thank you.”
She pulls back after a long moment and beams at him. She knows exactly what he means. She grips his good hand tightly and murmurs, “Talk to him.”
He does not turn around and look at Tamaki. Instead, he wordlessly passes Haruhi off, letting the host club leader have his turn dancing with his precious daughter.
After that, he mostly sticks to the shadows. He pointedly doesn’t watch Tamaki and Haruhi dancing. Instead he watches Mori and Hani; Hani is giggling, Mori has that soft smile that is reserved only for his best friend. Kyoya wonders where they will go, when this is over.
His gaze lingers on Renge for a moment, dancing with a pretty girl that must be here from a different school, since he doesn’t know her name. His vision trails over the edges of the crowds, watching the people enjoying themselves, and finally lands on Hikaru and Kaoru. The twins make their way over when they see Kyoya looking at them; Hikaru is holding his arm at an odd angle.
“You should see a doctor about that,” he comments nonchalantly. Kaoru gives him a pointed look, obviously thinking of his own hand.
“We will,” Hikaru says, as if the broken arm is both his and Kaoru’s problem and not his alone. “We’re waiting for Haruhi. Going to make sure she gets home okay.”
Kyoya nods absentmindedly. He would have done the same, had he not known the twins would be doing just that.
“It’s been a long day,” Kaoru says in that tone he gets sometimes when he’s worried about Kyoya’s mental wellbeing.
“Yes,” Kyoya comments. “It has.”
He takes his leave without a goodbye. He’s sure he’ll see them tomorrow, one way or another. He goes back to Music Room Three, for no discernible reason. He does not pull out his laptop or his notebook. Instead he sits down at a table facing away from the door and stares at the wall, thinking of nothing and everything all at once.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed when the door opens, nor does he turn around. He doesn’t have to; he knows Tamaki better than he knows himself, sometimes. He hears Tamaki sit down on one of the couches and waits.
“Haruhi went home,” Tamaki says. “So did everyone else.”
Not everyone. The party is still going, Kyoya is sure. But everyone important did. Everyone in their family, everyone they love. Kyoya says nothing.
“I think Hikaru’s arm is broken,” Tamaki continues. “Which is my fault. And Kaoru said something about your hand, which is my fault too, and Haruhi fell off a bridge, and-”
“None of it is your fault,” Kyoya interrupts. “We knew what we were doing.”
He listens as Tamaki gets up. Starts pacing. Stops.
“Why?” Tamaki asks. “Why would you do that for me?”
And here Kyoya finally turns around, certain that something akin to rage is crossing over his face, because how could Tamaki be so blind? They love him, just as much as he loves them. Nothing is going to change that.
“Because you belong here,” he says simply, letting the anger fade, letting himself go back to being emotionless. Emotions get you nowhere. Rationality gets you to buy out your father’s company and give it back to him, just to prove you can. Just to prove you’re worth something.
Tamaki is staring at him like he’s a completely different person.
“Your father hit you,” he says after a moment.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Kyoya responds coolly. It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before remains unspoken. Tamaki hears it anyway. Sometimes he thinks Tamaki knows him better than he knows himself.
“Kyoya,” Tamaki says, taking a step closer, then stopping. Like Kyoya will break if Tamaki touches him. Like Tamaki is realizing just how scared Kyoya is, that they were going to lose him, that-
“I’m fine,” he says, turning back around. Tamaki, who would never stand for this, sits down across from him, forcing Kyoya to look him in the eyes.
“It’s okay to not be fine,” Tamaki says gently. Kyoya is not going to cry. Kyoya is not someone who cries. But in that moment, he wants to. By God, he wants to.
Instead of crying, he does something much, much worse. He lets himself be vulnerable, and he says, “I was afraid that I was going to lose you.” Not the host club. Not we. I.
“I’m sorry,” Tamaki says. He reaches out and takes Kyoya’s good hand, stares at the possibly-broken one. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Kyoya says, and he means it. “You’re here now.”
“I’m here now,” Tamaki echoes. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
He squeezes Kyoya’s hand. It’s one of those moments where you realize that something has changed, something is not going to be the same ever again, and Kyoya finds that he’s revelling in it. So used to being perfectly in control, this is so outside of his control, and he loves it.
“Tamaki,” he says. As if that one word means everything. Maybe it does.
“Kyoya,” Tamaki replies, in the exact same tone.
Something has changed, he thinks. Everything has changed, really, and nothing has changed at the same time. It’s a problem for later. For now, he holds Tamaki’s hand in his, and stares into his eyes and smiles back at him.
“I love you,” Kyoya says, plain and simple. Tamaki’s gaze softens even further, if that’s possible.
“I love you, too,” he says, and that’s that.