Chapter Text
Kyoya sighed for what must have been the third time in ten minutes, pushing his glasses up his nose. The Host Club was in full action, each Host off entertaining the girls while he sat in his corner and kept everything under control, as usual. Hani was happily gorging himself on cake under the watchful eye of Mori; Hikaru and Kaoru were doing another one of their 'brotherly love' skits; Haruhi was chatting easily with a group of girls, all giving her doe-eyed looks of awe, and Tamaki… Tamaki was, as always, flourishing under the attention. He was currently wooing a particularly entranced girl, one of his regulars. Kyoya's fingers tightened around his pen as Tamaki brought the girl's hand to his lips, kissing it seductively and causing her face to flush brightly. Just half an hour more, and the club would close for the day. Half an hour of watching Tamaki flirt with dozens of wide-eyed girls, keeping his 'cool and calculating' façade. This club really was going to kill him one day.
He sighed again, forcing his eyes away from Tamaki and back down to his laptop screen. There was work to be done.
.-.
Half an hour later, the last of the girls had left, and the boys were packing away, ready to leave. They hadn't been cosplaying this time, so there wasn't much to do other than put the cups and plates in the washer, and tidy up a bit. Mori and Hani left first, as Hani had a training session to get to, and the twins begged off shortly after, claiming their mom needed a hand setting up for her show that evening. With only Kyoya, Haruhi and Tamaki left in the room, it wasn't long before the tension became too much for the girl. "I've got some homework to do, so I'll see you tomorrow senpais," she explained, immediately being engulfed in an overdramatic hug from Tamaki.
"Farewell, my darling daughter!" he cried, only for Haruhi to roll her eyes exasperatedly and pry him off.
"Goodbye, Haruhi-chan," Kyoya said with a tight smile, one that was returned with a slightly worried look.
"Bye, Kyoya-senpai," she replied, shouldering her bag and moving to leave. The door shut behind her, seemingly louder than normal, and Kyoya looked back down to his notebook, determined not to meet Tamaki's curious eyes.
"Kyo-kun?" Tamaki ventured tentatively, taking a few steps towards his classmate.
"What?" Kyoya asked curtly, feeling a sort-of vindictive pleasure at the flicker of hurt that crossed his friend's face.
"Are… are you okay?" Tamaki asked, concerned. Kyoya turned his back on the blonde, walking away to push a couch to the side.
"Fine."
"You don't seem it. Come on, Kyo-kun, what's wrong?" Tamaki persisted, following the dark-haired boy.
"I'm fine, Tamaki, now leave me alone!" Kyoya snapped. Tamaki flinched visibly.
"No you're not fine, Kyoya, now talk to me, damn it! I thought we were friends! Hell, I thought we were more than that!" he exclaimed in reply. Kyoya's eyes shuttered behind his glasses, the tightness in his chest almost suffocating. There, the root of the problem.
"We are friends. That doesn't mean I have to share every detail of my life with you. Now was there something you wanted before I close up?" he bit out, irritated. Why couldn't Tamaki just leave him in peace?
Tamaki frowned, then gained a look of defiance. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's bothering you," he declared stubbornly. Then his face softened, and he reached out a hand to cup Kyoya's cheek. "Please, Kyo-chan, I want to help you," he murmured. Kyoya forced himself to pull away, his cheek immediately feeling cold at the loss of touch.
"Yeah well maybe you can't help this time," Kyoya muttered. Tamaki gripped his wrist, pulling him so they were face-to-face.
"For fuck's sake, Kyoya, stop being such an ass and tell me what's wrong!" That was the last straw for Kyoya; he wrenched his wrist from Tamaki's grip, eyes blazing.
"You, damn it! You're what's wrong!" he burst out angrily. Tamaki's eyes widened.
"W-what? Do you not… like me anymore?" he whispered, horrified. Kyoya laughed bitterly.
"Oh, if only it were that simple. No, no, do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit there and watch you flirt with all those girls, promise yourself to each one of them? You devote yourself to pleasing the ladies, and what are we reduced to? Stolen kisses between classes and a few quick fucks at the weekends when your dad is away? I just… I can't do that anymore, Tamaki. I can't be your dirty little secret," he confessed, hanging his head in defeat. He didn't need to look up to know Tamaki was wide-eyed.
"But… it's my job. I thought that's what you wanted me to do, to bring in more guests, more money. But none of them mean anything, Kyoya, not compared to you," he insisted, making another reach for the teen. Kyoya jerked out of his reach, glaring.
"You really expect me to believe that? That you're not fooling around with any of the dozens of girls who hang onto your every word?" he spat harshly.
"Yes, I expect you to believe that! I expect you to trust me, the same way I trust you! I can't help it that the girls fawn over me, it's what I'm there for! What do you want me to do, stop hosting?" Tamaki yelled. Kyoya rolled his eyes.
"Things aren't that simple, Tamaki. You quitting the Host Club won't amount to anything, we both know that. I suppose I was just foolish enough to think that we could make this work between us," he added.
"We can make this work! I mean it, Kyoya. I'll do whatever you want. I'll stop flirting, I'll tell the girls we're dating, I'll tell my father we're dating!"
"We're not dating, though, are we? Dating implies that you've gone on a date together, alone. Something we haven't done. Whatever this is, it's not dating. Besides, you don't have the guts to tell the girls or your father. You won't even tell the other hosts," Kyoya pointed out. Tamaki's eyes were shining with unshed tears close to falling, and Kyoya felt slightly bad, but pushed it away. It had to be done. As much as he loved Tamaki — and he did, he loved him with everything he had — he knew he would never be first in the other boy's heart.
"I don't want them to hate me!" Tamaki whined. Kyoya resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That was the main problem; Tamaki needed to be loved. He needed the attention of the girls, and his friends, and Kyoya. He thrived on it.
"Then you should have thought of that before you got involved with me in the first place." Kyoya's laptop slammed shut a little harder than necessary, and he slipped it into his bag. "I'm sorry, Tamaki, but it's killing me to be led on like this. It's over." Trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, Kyoya ducked his head as he stormed out of the music room, determined to remain dry-eyed at least until he reached his limo. Texting his driver with shaking hands, he waited at the school gates for the car to pull up. When it did so, he wordlessly opened the door and slid in, his shoulders trembling with the effort of holding back tears. His driver didn't ask, just started the journey home, and as they pulled away from the school, Kyoya finally let out a choked sob, and the dam broke.
.-.-.
"Kyo-kun, please eat something," Fuyumi begged, standing outside his closed door. "You haven't left your room since you got home. Mom and dad are worried." Kyoya snorted derisively, hugging a pillow to his chest.
"Go away, Fuyumi. I'm not hungry," he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. He heard a sigh on the other side of the door before his sister spoke again.
"Fine. Just… if you need to talk to someone, I'm here for you, okay?" she told him. He stayed silent, hot tears still leaking from his eyes, as footsteps indicated Fuyumi had left. God, he felt like such a girl. Was this how they all felt after being rejected by one of the hosts? No, it couldn't be. None of them could have felt love for any of the hosts like he did for Tamaki. None of them had had that love returned, then ripped away from them months later.
He pulled his laptop towards him, wiping at his eyes with one hand and flipping the lid with the other. Hoping his emails would distract him, he opened the window, scrolling through and resolutely ignoring those labelled 'Suoh Tamaki'. He saw an unread email labelled 'Potter Harry' and managed a hint of a smile, opening it. He was confronted with the picture of a large, majestic castle, the sun shining brightly and glittering off the surface of a lake, while on the grass sat a group of waving people of various ages and sizes. Hogwarts. Kyoya felt a pang at the sight of the castle; he had only been there a few times one summer, when his father had taken him over there on a business trip to survey how some of their British holdings were faring, but he had run into a scruffy, emerald-eyed boy on his first day in London and never looked back. He hadn't been the same since Harry had introduced him to magic. He'd been back to see them a couple of times since, but he missed it.
Reading through the email, a smile crossed his lips as he heard what everyone was up to, now the summer vacation had started. Ouran didn't break up for another week. As he read about how Harry missed him, and wanted to see him again, an idea sprung into Kyoya's head. Maybe a break from everything would be exactly what he needed to get over Tamaki.
He slipped off his bed, ducking into the bathroom to scrub at his face and attempt to remove any signs he'd been crying, before leaving his bedroom. Padding silently down the hall, he miraculously managed to avoid everyone until he reached his father's study. Knocking hesitantly on the door, he waited patiently for the muffled 'come in!' before opening. His father looked up, eyebrow raising in surprise when he saw his youngest child stood in his doorway. "Kyoya? I was told you had locked yourself in your bedroom. Come, come, sit down," he urged, a kind smile on his face. Kyoya did so, shifting nervously. "Now, my son, how can I help you?" Kyoya bit his lip, then spoke.
"I would like to visit Harry-kun, if it is viable. Tomorrow, if possible. I am aware that school is still on, but nothing ever happens during the last week, and I would really like to see Harry as soon as possible," he requested. Ootori senior frowned, surveying his son.
"Kyoya, did something happen at school today? Is that why you're so upset?" he queried. Kyoya froze, then nodded minutely.
"I… I was seeing someone, but… it ended," he confessed. His father gave him a sympathetic look, reaching over the desk to clasp his son's elbow.
"I am truly sorry, Kyoya-kun. It is obvious you care deeply about this person." That was one thing Kyoya liked about his father; he didn't pry into his children's lives. He would accept what they told him, and leave anything they didn't want to say private.
"I do," he agreed. "I… I was hoping that maybe visiting with Harry-kun for a couple of weeks would take my mind off things. And I haven't seen him in so long." Kyoya looked at his father with hopeful eyes, still red-rimmed from crying. The older man sighed, pushing his glasses further up his nose.
"Alright. Pack your things, the jet will be ready to take you after dinner. I'll call the school and let them know you'll be absent for the last week," he acquiesced. Kyoya smiled, his first true smile in weeks.
"Thank you, father."