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Haruhi didn’t mean to find him, she was just wasting time before the host club began.
There were many rooms in Ouran that she hadn’t ever been in before, despite the fact that the brunette had been attending the school for what felt like forever, and it was just by luck that she decided to pop her head into the German classroom on the second floor.
Her eyes did a quick sweep of the garish room before clocking onto the familiar outline of Kyouya, who was perched by the windowsill. There was something comforting about seeing the teen typing away on that laptop of his, only pausing to tilt his glasses higher up against the bridge of his nose.
“Oh, hey.” Said Haruhi with a smile, stepping into the room in order to talk with her friend.
“Hello Haruhi.” Was the response. Kyouya raised his head to meet her eye as she walked towards where he was perched, sat at an angle so that he could look out through the clear glass into the courtyard.
Haruhi sat down with the other teen, and for a while the two went without conversation, but Haruhi found that she didn’t mind it, content to just take in the decoration of the lavish classroom (why the room needed a glass chandelier she didn’t know).
The girl turned to look at Kyouya, who was still busy doing God-knows-what on his laptop-he could either be writing an English assignment or negotiating with a syndicate of Chinese bookies, it was anyone’s guess- and she knew Kyouya would attack both with the same no-nonsense mindset. But there was something harsher than normal about his icy expression, and Haruhi could see a slight tension in his brow- no matter how much he was trying to hide it, Kyouya Ootori was upset.
Upon further notice, the brunette quickly observed the strain in the other’s hands, and his rigid posture was stiffer than usual. Kyouya’s breathing was even, and Haruhi couldn’t track his gaze through the silver sheen of his glasses.
Loosening her tie slightly, Haruhi tried to think of the best way to strike up what was bound to be an awkward conversation. She watched the other teen for a few minutes, observing his intense concentration on the screen in front of him.
It only took one momentary slip up for Haruhi to see what was plaguing her friend- a micromovement of the head, a twist of the neck slightly to the right revealed what was on his mind. The girl couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew what they were trained on, or who, to be precise.
Turning her head to gaze through the large, opulent, and definitely superfluous window, Haruhi immediately recognised the familiar outlines of her fellow host club members. Mori’s impressive stature was increased by Honey who was sitting on his shoulders. The twins were messing around as usual, skirting around and teasing the blonde-haired leader of the club, who was spinning around wildly doing what Haruhi assumed to be a figure-skating impression in the greenery of the large courtyard.
Eventually, Haruhi spoke in that soft voice that revealed that she knew exactly what Kyouya was thinking about. “You should say something to him.”
The other teen did not respond at first, but he was clearly affected by her words. His lithe fingers ceased their rapid typing for a second, and his hands faltered.
Pushing his slipping glasses up his nose, the black haired boy turned his head, so that he was no longer looking out of the window. “I don’t know what you mean.” Was his monotonous response. This was evidently a lie, and Kyouya continued his typing, aware that the two of them had slipped into an awkward silence. The teen’s rigid posture was basically begging the girl to leave the situation alone, yet still she pressed on in her best soothing tone.
“You’ll never gain anything from staying silent, Kyouya.” Said the brunette, her large eyes staring softly at the boy beside her.
Clearly what she said had resonated within the other teen, yet he forewent responding, instead drawing his lips into a slight frown as he worked. Finally, the boy looked up, meeting Haruhi’s piercing gaze. “I would gain nothing either way.” The colour in his voice indicated finality- he clearly wanted to talk about this no more. It seemed to Haruhi that this sort of suppression was second-nature to Kyouya, and her heart throbbed at his self-imposed torment.
Huffing loudly, the girl smiled in disbelief before shaking her head slowly. Her eyes looked at Kyouya with something akin to pity, and his skin crawled in revulsion. He could’ve said so much more- he wanted to, but something inside drove him to stay quiet.
There was a shine in the iris of Haruhi’s eyes, and she turned away from the boy, knowing how uncomfortable Kyouya was feeling at her prying. The girl had come to a painful realisation. “How long have you been in love with him?”
“I’m not.” Said Kyouya with as much assertion as possible. He wished to nip it in the bud, to stop this unwanted conversation then and there, full stop. In his eyes, the best way to deal with sticky situations was to either pay someone off or bury so deep that it would be immediately ignored and forgotten. His tone was one of arrogance, but it was a well constructed mask that Haruhi had long been able to see through the cracks of. Kyoya Ootori was suffering, but hid it so well that not even his best friend was aware of his quiet pain.
“Oh, Kyouya.” Sighed Haruhi with a voice so insultingly mellow that the other teen wanted to pull his hair out. Kyouya never wanted to be spoken to in that tone. It reeked of emotions too raw for him to name.
Yet again the two lapsed into silence, but something else had settled in the air, it was heavy and felt like a dark weight pressing down on Kyouya’s shoulders. He was overcome with the violent urge to scratch and scratch away at his skin, but instead the teen settled for wringing his hands in his lap.
After having been deep in thought for a good while, Kyouya’s lips parted and he went to speak earnestly for what seemed to be the first time in his life, but stopped himself with a glance down to the floor.
“He’s in love with you.” The teen whispered in a quiet voice, as if he were ashamed to admit it to himself.
The girl’s face fell and a deep-rooted pain flashed across her features. Kyouya could not even bear to look her in the eye.
Shuffling closer to the boy, Haruhi tucked a small portion of her choppy, uneven hair behind her ear. “I know.” She responded in a small voice. Kyouya’s plain statement of something so truthful rang within her head. He had solidified what she already knew to be true, but having it said out loud…
Well none of that mattered when Kyouya was sitting beside her.
Awkwardness was radiating off of him in violent waves, and his posture faltered minutely, with his shoulders slumping in a way that truly showed his silent anguish. The closed his laptop with a reverberating snap, before pushing it off of his lap and onto the windowsill.
His hands drifted to his knees, and he gripped his thighs in what he hoped was unnoticeable stress, but Haruhi, being as astute as she was, didn’t miss a thing. Kyouya looked at Haruhi, and she saw him, pure and whole.
His hazel eyes were glassy, even though Kyouya had enough self-restraint to actually prevent his tears from falling down his pale cheeks. His facade was failing him, and there was a look in his eye that was just so…human that Haruhi was overwhelmed by the urge to pull him into her arms.
“You know it’s okay to be different. You’re good friends with my dad, and you don’t have a problem with him working in drag bars. You accept him, so why can’t you accept yourself?”
Kyouya released a shaky breath through parted lips.
“That’s different, your father has nothing to lose. I…my family would be ruined.”
The black-haired boy swallowed a lump in his throat. His once-calculating and piercing gaze scanned the room as if he were buying time. Kyouya always sounded sure of himself, he spoke with such chilling confidence and intimidating grace, but now, he seemed to be hollow.
Haruhi knew how uncomfortable the boy was, and she thought for a moment about how to deal with the situation. The brunette attempted to lighten the mood. “You know,” Haruhi said, “If it came out that I was female, the reaction would be pretty wild. I mean, I kissed a girl at the ball-that’s quite controversial.”
Fondness flicked across Kyouya’s face for a millisecond, and his lips quirked upwards just a fraction into an ironic smile, so quickly that it was almost impossible to catch. “Ah, yes,” The boy said, with the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way which showed his quiet happiness which he no doubt hoped went overlooked.
“I suppose we both have our secrets, then Haruhi.”
Ever since their run-in at the shopping centre, Haruhi had felt a lot more familiar with the other teen, and she did feel quite upset that they didn’t get to spend time together often. There was something comforting about the fact that Kyouya was comfortable enough to be more of himself around her ( almost himself- she doubted anyone had truly seen Kyouya’s true self, apart from his ever-elusive sister), and Haruhi enjoyed conversing with his true, harsher and wittier side that was unconcerned with social pleasantries.
The brunette was not happy to leave the conversation where it was, and despite her avid discomfort, Haruhi pushed harder against the wall of his solid emotional barrier.
“And you’re never going to tell Tamaki-senpai, are you?”
“Only a fool would,” Kyouya chewed on the skin of his lip, before continuing “Suoh is an idiot.”
“Well you’re right about that, senpai.” Remarked Haruhi with a bashful smile, scratching the back of her head. A more jovial ambience had settled in the large room, yet it still only served to be like a blanket- just laying atop the sombre atmosphere that was lurking beneath. Kyouya’s statement had lightened the mood for just a few minutes, but it didn’t take long for Haruhi’s face to fall once more when she noticed that Kyouya was shutting himself down again.
“He would understand, you know he would.” Murmured Haruhi, placing a reassuring hand on her friend’s arms. The black-haired boy flinched, but made no effort to remove her hand from where it was placed. The pad of the girl’s thumb rubbed circles against the expensive material of Kyouya’s blazer in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.
“Tamaki is like the sun. It would be cruel of me to diminish his light.”
The teen shifted his body so that he was looking into the courtyard once more, and his eyes immediately locked onto Tamaki, who was goofing around with Honey again, still full of energy despite the fact that he had been skipping around for the past hour.
Kyouya Ootori met Tamaki during the last term of middle school.
Of course, the black-haired boy had known everything about the other before the two had actually met-it was custom for the members of the Ootori family to do extensive research upon every high-class member of society before they met.
Kyouya didn’t want to befriend the blonde buffoon at first, but upon his father’s demand, subtly moved seats with the heir to the bouquet industry’s Ayame Hashimoto, making sure to placate her with a swift peck to the back of the hand.
The two first met in the principal’s office, and the moment that Kyouya stepped through the room’s threshold, he was blinded by the ever-twinkling light that was Tamaki Suoh. Accepting the blonde’s outstretched hand that day felt like Kyouya was plummeting off of a cliff, free falling so fast that he had reached that split second of nirvana before you hit the ground. At first, Kyouya was confused by the manner in which Tamaki carried himself- having such unabashed confidence and pride that the teen feared he’d be plagued by constant migraines.
The boy was utterly perplexing.
Tamaki spoke with complete freedom, waxing poetic about anything and everything, immediately declaring the two of them to be best friends. The foreigner was a complete idiot, traipsing around as if everyone in the entire world was his friend.
There were many things Kyouya Ootori disliked about Tamaki Suoh: his loud, cheery voice that never ceased its incessant larking; his over-enthusiasm regarding everything new and Japanese, and his innate and terrifying ability to win over anyone with a simple smile.
And so Kyouya found himself shepherding the boy, taking him from place to place as the blonde pranced around in complete awe of everything around him.
It didn’t take the black haired boy to come to a conclusion- he hated Tamaki, with every fibre of his being.
Every morning he would put on his carefully constructed mask, joking and smiling with the other snot-nosed heirs about menial and unimportant things, and the blonde idiot would come skipping over, punching Kyouya so hard repeatedly in the face with his overt audaciousness and never ending happiness that the brunette’s mask would shatter, and he would find himself trying his best to stop his eyebrows from twitching in annoyance.
He spent his nights ranting to his sister Fuyumi about every enraging incident that occurred with the blonde, and it wasn’t until the day that Tamaki Suoh was welcomed into his home that Kyouya realised just how much the other boy meant to him.
Stepping foot into the living room and seeing Tamaki sat by the grand piano, cajoling a sound so beautiful from the instrument that it brought his siblings to tears, Kyouya could only watch in awe as the other swayed with grace as he played, almost dancing and moving in time with the notes that his fingers pressed with such rightful familiarity.
The present light of the sun shone through the large windows of the Ootori estate, and illuminated the blonde crown that was Tamaki’s hair, framing it like a halo. The purple irises of his eyes were filled with such emotion as he looked down at the piano; his soft gaze was coloured with senseless passion as he made those heavenly sounds.
Their following conversation was one that Kyouya would never forget. Tamaki talked of his father’s legacy with such frivolous disinterest that it enraged the other to no end. The blonde seemed completely and utterly unaffected by the massive weight lying upon his shoulders, and even when Kyouya flipped, shouting in raw anger, jealousy leaking through in his tone, Tamaki responded softly. His voice was one of patience, and his encouraging words sent Kyouya into a fit of laughter.
It was at that moment that something changed between the two of them, and Kyouya was finally and fully seen. There was only one person who appreciated the true and vibrant colours of the boy’s soul, and despite that person being the confusing imbecile who was Tamaki, Kyouya found himself fitting perfectly by his side.
It only took the Ouran Fair for the black-haired boy to realise just how much he relied on the other. Faced with the thought of losing Tamaki, Kyouya’s brain had overloaded.
Tamaki was the first son, and although Kyouya knew about his family troubles, it was his job to make sure that the blonde succeeded in everything. He was Tamaki’s right hand man and he had to make sure that the flamboyant teen lived up to his full potential. Tamaki Kyouya was set to inherit his family’s business and Kyouya wanted to make sure it happened as smoothly as possible. The blonde was a natural leader, and the other didn’t mind catering to his every whim.
The people at school worshipped Tamaki as if he were a walking god, but none were more devoted than Kyouya. Everyone who came into contact with the blonde fell for him and his charming words. The thing is, Tamaki deserved it- he deserved to be treated kindly and swooned over, because there was nobody was more deserving of love.
He was such a kind soul, and it was often hard for people to see just how much he cared underneath that sometimes obnoxious attitude. Tamaki always looked for the best in people, and that gift was only bestowed upon him because he himself was good, inside and out.
Tamaki Suoh was the one who brought colours into Kyouya’s grey world.
Kyouya supposed he was thankful that the blonde was innocent enough to be unaware of his silent feelings.
He kept quiet because he knew that it would change things- Tamaki was destined to end up with Haruhi, it was obvious to anyone with eyes. He was bewitched by her every movement, and hung onto the brunette’s words with bright eyes. She was everything that the blonde was not-patient, level headed and socially aware, so it made sense that the two were meant for each other. Haruhi would always be there to pull Tamaki back down to earth when his head reached the clouds. And Kyouya would be there too.
Stood behind the pair.
The boy knew his duty as an Ootori son-after finishing his studies he would be expected to find a well-bred wife and settle down.
But there was something so intimidating about that.
He didn’t want to grow old with his impressive family, labelled as a famed business owner and financial partner of the Suoh industry; he wanted to be at Tamaki’s side. Tamaki being happy was all that truly mattered. Haruhi was a brilliant girl, well equipped to oppose all of the blonde’s bad traits, and Kyouya knew that there was nobody better suited for him out there.
Tamaki spent his days obsessing over the younger girl, expressive eyes tracking her every move as she wondered about without truly ever seeing how much love was in that warm stare.
Kyouya’s gaze was always cold.
The black-haired boy had always been a solitary creature, growing up he had hated interacting with others, bored of putting up the cheery facade of a perfect son. It was only thanks to Tamaki that Kyouya found a reason to come out of his shell.
So it did not matter that Tamaki didn’t feel the same- he would never know.
Kyouya’s pathetic secret would be carried with him to his grave, and until then, the teen would do everything in his power to make sure that his best friend had a great life, and if that meant importing rare flowers for their recreation of Kitchener’s island, then so be it. If Tamaki wanted it, Kyouya made sure that it was so.
The black haired boy’s heart was made of thorns, and somehow Tamaki was the only one who had discovered the rose hidden beneath its prickled guard.
Haruhi and Kyouya had lapsed once more into silence, a silence that echoed throughout the room as they sat beside each other. The brunette found herself gazing at the sharp lines of the teen’s face as his eyes flickered with sadness. Kyouya was human, inside and out- he was allowed to speak like one, he had the freedom to express his every thought and emotion as they came into his head,yet it seemed that no one had ever told him that.
“Come Haruhi,” Declared the boy in an authoritative tone, clearly trying to push the memory of his brief moment of weakness to the back of his mind. “The host club is about to begin, and if we’re late, God only knows what Tamaki will make us do.”