Work Text:
I pictured you with other girls in love
Then threw up on the street
- Hits Different, Taylor Swift
He should knock now. Really. It would be really weird of him to just stand outside his friends room and just stare at his door without knocking or making his presence known. It would be weird to anyone who would chance upon him in the hallway. To find Tamaki, in a dimly lit hallway, standing outside Kyoya's room just staring at his door. He thought all of this but he didn't budge. Not until he saw the outline of light from under the door and the sides go dark. Kyoya was most likely tucking in, still shirtless and under his covers, ready to call it a night.
It would be a real hassle for him to entertain Tamaki, wouldn't it? Tamaki really ought to just leave and-- leave and act as if he had never accused Kyoya of unspeakable crimes, as if he had never tried to land a hit, as if he hadn't done Kyoya a tremendous injustice for simply believing such things. He didn't really. He knew Kyoya would never. It's just that, in the moment, everything was ugly and upside down and wrong and the words came so easy. To wound. To sow conflict. To, well, Tamaki didn't understand it. He just knew it happened.
It didn't really matter why anyway, only that it did ultimately happen.
Unwittingly, Tamaki let out a loud sigh. Then he nearly smacked himself upside the head, only stopping because that was a weird angle and there was no point. Kyoya definitely heard him, might as well own it, it would be no good for Kyoya to think there was some creep just lurking outside his room for no good reason.
With courage that he did not have moments before, Tamaki knocks. (Internally he wonders is three knocks was too much or if Kyoya had dozed off and missed them all completely. He hesitates outside the door, waiting on the other side. It wasn't like him to wait for permission from Kyoya because Kyoya's consent was always implied in his easy reception of him. But he felt too apologetic to allow himself even the most basic of privileges and made himself wait for an invitation in.
Sure enough a "Come in," was promptly called. Kyoya's voice sounded rightfully distant and reserved. Tamaki deserved every bit of disinterest.
He opened the door softly and stepped in, closing it behind himself. Kyoya had a sleep shirt on. Which wasn't disappointing at all, and Tamaki should have expected as much. The lights in the room were dimmed, he could only see Kyoya's dark figure stretched across the bed, laptop abandoned on his nightstand, and Tamaki found that the details and lack of focus made the silence feel... different. Charged. Sugge-
"Hello?" Kyoya asked through the darkness. "Who..? I can't see you."
"Ah, sorry!"
Hastily, he tuned the light up, watching as Kyoya came into focus. His sleep shirt had block print that read; Shut up, and it was a soft baby pink. Tamaki wasn't sure why it mattered except it did. He never really gets to see Kyoya in pink. It suited him.
"Oh," Kyoya said, sounding warmer. "Tamaki. Hello."
Tamaki stares at Kyoya, who was not shirtless or under the sheets but wearing a pink shirt and now sitting up. He looked astonishingly young, like he was truly his age. His hair was a little mussed on the side, most likely from his pillow. Kyoya was currently groping the nightstand, looking for his glasses. Tamaki watches mutely as Kyoya finally find and wears them.
"You're silent," Kyoya noted, then in a lighter but still somewhat strained voice, "thinking of what other accusation you want to hurl my way?"
"No!" Tamaki fidgeted. "No, not at all. I wouldn't. I mean, obviously I would because I did. I just mean that I wouldn't... Well, I don't know. But that's not...."
Kyoya makes an impatient noise, "Out with it."
Tamaki cleared his throat, "Well, Kyoya, I have, um reflected, and I realize now that I have done you a great dishonor."
Kyoya raises an eyebrow, "What are you babbling on about?"
"When I accused you of... Uhm, perhaps, taking advantage of Haruhi. That was wrong of me to do. I know you aren't that kind of man and I'm ashamed I even uttered such accusations at you when I know your character. I'm sorry."
With nothing more than "It's alright," Kyoya forgives him.
Far too easily! Proving that Tamaki does not deserve this man in any capacity. He doesn't even deserve to be in his presence, to breathe the same air. As if sensing that Tamaki's lack of satisfaction with their resolution, Kyoya added, "I understand why. Plus, I hardly take you seriously when you work yourself up. I wasn't hurt at all."
Tamaki cringes. It's true that Tamaki had a bit of a habit of jumping the gun, but still. Even to suggest that Kyoya, the epitome of formality and tradition and good, would do something so terrible was incorrigible. That being acknowledged... "Wait. What do you mean you understand why?"
Not even Tamaki understood why.
"I mean, love makes fools of us all. And jealousy is quite a potent thing, especially since you seem so prone to it."
Tamaki swallowed, "Jealousy?"
"Yes. You care for Haruhi and you found her in another man's room. I understand your gut-instinct outrage. I imagine if you found me entertaining anyone else you wouldn't have reacted the same."
"Oh." Tamaki laughed so he didn't have to answer, because, truthfully, at the core of cores, the prospect of finding another girl sitting on Kyoya's bed sounded just as repelling and awful. It made him want to reject the little sea food he had managed to stomach earlier. If he saw another girl on Kyoya's bed, in Kyoya's bed, he'd likely react the same because Tamaki was, and Kyoya was right because he always was, certifiably insane. Tamaki knew himself and the dictate at the thought alone was telling.
Which was entirely unfair.
Since Kyoya could technically do whatever he wanted. They were friends, best friends and Tamaki told him everything but who's to say that Kyoya owed him any information on his apparently existent love life? Well, Tamaki would demand that Kyoya tell such things but maybe he shouldn't. Maybe, when Tamaki had been pushing himself closer he could have been accidentally crossing lines, violating boundaries.
He ought to just excuse himself--"Is there anyone else?" Kyoya, who had been studiously staring at his hands, looks at him instead, and suddenly Tamaki feels like he crossed another line so he adds, hurriedly, "To make sure I don't, ah, interrupt?"
Kyoya laughed with him, and falls back onto his head with a soft thump, clearly calling this conversation to an end. Tamaki does not stare because why would he?
"I'll make sure to lock the door should the occasion arrive."
Tamaki forces out another laugh, this one grated on his own ears with how insincere it sounded. "Right. Of course."
Despite himself, Tamaki returns to the bedroom and checks Kyoya's door later that night.
He doesn't acknowledge the shaky sigh (of relief? of..?) he feels when the doorknob turns, indicating that the room was unlocked. He just skids down the hall, hoping that Kyoya was already asleep and would never wonder who was at his door, checking. Really, this would look quite odd to the outside perspective.