Work Text:
seven
Kyoya sits there on the edge, legs swinging, and he is kind of surprised by his own mortality. Not just his condition but how easy it was to get access to the roof, and how he could quite easily end it all there. It would disgrace his family, of course. But it would be painless, and that is quite possibly what makes it all so appealing. The promise of swift relief.
But that angered him too.
Kyoya worked himself to death for all his life, to get more than scraps. To reach higher, get more, and here he was. Everything he worked for had larger endgames. A conclusion that depended on a million tiny steps that he had taken rigorously. He would study everyday because one day he would reach a status where he can gain sway and influence. He would make allies in every social scenario because one day he would need them.
One day.
Everything he ever did was for a future he couldn’t even have. A future that he wasn’t even allowed to hope for because his life will end before everything could come to fruition.
And if he ended it here, it would just mean that everything he ever worked for would be shadowed and ignored in favor of his suicide. He couldn’t win.
Still, he remembered the note tucked tightly under the pillow of his made bed. He thought of the pain, he thought of tomorrow. Kyoya swung his legs from over the edge to solid ground, standing up wasn’t hard and he didn’t sway.
He could travel the world, like his father suggested, but that also felt cruel.
Here’s what you could have had, it sounded like.
He couldn’t help it. He twisted the beautiful till it fit inside his head.
Kyoya looked out over the grounds. It was way past school time. The clubs also must have finished at this point, not many would be around. The sun wasn’t that high over the sky, but it wasn’t setting either– left a lot of time for a dignified discovery.
It could be painless. It didn’t have to hurt. If nobody expected it, if nobody was waiting for it– it could be over without fuss. Without tears--- they'd be too shocked for it.
He thinks of Fuyumi, who had held his hand when the doctor had still been trying to figure out his diagnosis. Who had cried with him when the details of his life were revealed, who said that he should travel the world with her. Not out of cruelty but out of a need to give him everything the world could ever offer.
He declined.
His sister loved traveling, and he couldn’t spoil that for her.
Kyoya shrugged off his jacket and took off his shoes, it felt wrong to die with so many layers on. It felt unnecessary, and at least then people would know exactly what he did. Maybe then more restrictions would be set up, this was too easy. It shouldn’t be this easy.
He loosened his tie, and popped a few buttons. He briefly considered taking off his glasses but thought against it. Without his glasses he wouldn’t be able to see, and he didn’t want to take the easy way out, not like that.
He turned back to the edge and stepped closer. He looked down, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Fear, however, just solidified anything.
He was going to die anyway.
He lifted his leg a quarter of an inch before placing it solidly back down and stumbling backwards and away. Trembling, he rushed for his jacket. Sliding it on and shoving his feet into the neatly placed shoes on the floor. His face was hot with embarrassment and horror.
A mix of;
What was he thinking?
He didn't want to die. Thank fuck.
And
He couldn’t even end himself.
“That’s a relief,” he heard someone say.
Kyoya looked up and made eye contact with Haninozuka, who was looking at him with bright brown eyes, clearly pleased. Behind him stood Morinozuka, his shadow and protection.
Haninozuka smiled and nodded at him, “I didn't expect this from you but then again I was right not to. You didn’t go through with it, after all.”
Kyoya straightened his tie and stood to his full height, “Right.”
“Will you be trying this again?”
Kyoya wanted to lash out and tell Haninozuka to mind his own business, but he was in no position to act foolishly. “I doubt it. It seems I can’t commit to it.”
“That’s a good thing,” he said.
“I’d appreciate it if you kept this encounter between us,” Kyoya said slowly, making hard eye contact with the shorter boy. Morinozuka watched him with burning eyes, and he leveled his gaze there too. “Please.”
Haninozuka shrugged happily, “What encounter?”
Kyoya nodded and slipped past them to the stairs. “Thank you, I will remember that.”
Despite his words, he returned the next day.
But he didn't jump.
And he didn't notice the older boys watching him, hidden well in the shadows.
Grief has addled his brain, clearly, because if his father expected nothing from him before, he expects less now. When he's not being overtly considerate, he's ignoring Kyoya outright. Kyoya prefers being ignored, that feels familiar, at least.
Kyoya, so very furious, snaps at Yoshio, at one point. To treat him like normal.
Yoshio had glared at Kyoya and ordered him to finish his meal in silence.
Kyoya, satisfied, had.
Two hours later Yoshio called Kyoya to his office and had handed him a folder with information about a boy who was going to transfer into Ouran.
Eager for an assignment, Kyoya did his research.
Research could not prepare Kyoya for one Suoh Tamaki.
He was gorgeous. He was strange. He was mixed, demanding, and kind.
He was dripping with life and youth and Kyoya hated him for it.
But the line between love and hate was thin and soon enough he was falling, and drinking in his vitality.
six
Kyoya was determine to complete the assignment with perfection.
To prove himself. To say, Look at me, I'm not dead yet.
But he befriends Tamaki, and what was once performative and cordial quickly unravels and transforms.
Exhibit A:
Tamaki looked at Kyoya from the corner of his eye, and Kyoya forced his heart to remain still.
“Kyoya?”
Kyoya looked at him, ignoring the chattering TV. “What is it?”
“I think I love you.”
A long stretch of silence, no spoken words, just suspense.
“You shouldn’t,” Kyoya finally said, hands shaking. It hits him again, the sadness. It was crippling and he inhaled deeply so he didn't cry.
“Because I’m a boy?” Tamaki guessed, voice choked and hurt but not angry.
This was proof that Kyoya was selfish, because if he wasn’t then he would disappear. Take his father up on the vacation and die quietly somewhere else. He would let Tamaki go. But here he was, taking. “Because I’m going to die soon. It’s no use to love someone like that.”
Tamaki laughs at first, surprised. But his laughter chokes and gets gnarled in his throat. It was clear that Tamaki was ready to laugh it off, indulge in whatever excuse Kyoya would give and move on, but he didn’t expect this.
How could anyone? Death was so abstract and distant, even more so for the glowing healthy Tamaki.
“I was going to tell you,” Kyoya said, and he rubbed his eyes, just to check that no wetness would happen then. “I just didn’t want you to pity me, I still don’t. But I figured I should tell you now, before you go ahead and fall in love with me.” He swallows around the discomfort in his throat, not able to look at Tamaki. “I’m not cruel, Tamaki.”
“And,” Tamaki’s voice sounded wretched. “You are okay with that? Dying? Isn’t there anything you can do? There has to be something that can be done, if you let me–.”
“My family is hardly in need of money, Tamaki. If there was a procedure that could have been done to keep me alive, it would have happened. My premature death is inevitable.”
Kyoya clears his throat and crosses his arms, tucking himself in tight. The aches in his bones were distant, uncomfortable and daunting. It hasn’t consumed him yet, but it just needs time.
“What is it?” Tamaki urged, his hands tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. He reminded Kyoya of himself at the beginning. Desperate, sure that there was an answer. A way to escape. “If you tell me I could have people looking for help. There has to be a way to fix this–.”
Kyoya forced himself to look at Tamaki, who looked determined despite his glittering eyes and shaking hands. “I assure you, Tamaki. If all the esteemed doctors across the country have no cure then I doubt you could find someone–.”
“I can call some French doctors. American, too. Someone has to know.”
“They know,” Kyoya bites out, agitation and despair. “I can’t help that they know my doom, alright? Just because I don’t want to believe it, doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“Please,” Tamaki pleads, “Just let me do this.”
He was crying.
Kyoya watches the boy, so full of brightness, crumble a little before him and he aches. Not his bones but something just as hurtful. He probably planned his confession to end differently. He might have chosen his shirt because it compliments his eyes best, hoping that Kyouya would notice his beauty–as if he hadn’t before.
“Do as you wish,” Kyouya said, trying to keep his voice level. “I just want you to know. Before all else.”
“So I can’t love you?”
“No, “ Kyouya whispers. “There is no time for things like that. Is my friendship not enough?”
Tamaki snuggles closer and buries his wet face in Kyouya’s neck. After such a big secret all boundaries have been crushed, every line blurred. There was no time for formalities anymore.
“Whatever you want to give me,” Tamaki finally says, his lips tracing the words like fire on the soft skin of Kyouya’s neck. “I’ll take it. I’ll take it all.”
"Thank you, René," Kyoya says, tentative at use of the name of his past, but Tamaki clings tighter and he's relieved.
five
Tamaki brings in his fair share of experts, to no avail.
The American Doctor recites what Kyoya already knew, what his timeframe was, how rare it is. So, Kyoya focuses instead on how he was middle-aged and healthy. Kyoya envied him briefly. “There are many ways to manage the symptoms and the notes from your regular doctor show that the best ones are being implemented.”
“Is there a cure? Any?” Tamaki asked foolishly, his grip on Kyoya’s hand tight. “There has to be.”
The Doctor looks at them with obvious empathy and Kyoya hates himself for being disappointed. Tamaki’s hope was strong, and for a few hours, it nearly contaminated Kyoya.
“I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid that there is no known cure as to date because of the rareness of the disease–.”
Tamaki’s grip goes slack, and his back curves, his head going between his knees. His distress was obvious. He stays there, monitoring his breathing, for five minutes. Kyoya is grateful that he cried his fill the night before, he didn’t think that his own grief would do much to comfort his friend.
“It’s okay, René.”
Tamaki went stiff under his hands, and within half a minute he had calmed down sufficiently. When he straightened up his eyebrows, lips, and nose were red with the effort of barely controlling his sobs but his press smile was ready and secure.
“I like it when you call me that,” he says. “I wish you would more often.”
Kyoya would, but it felt too intimate. It also felt like a whole other person, and he doesn’t have the time to meet someone so new.
“Good to know.”
four
Kyoya was reading and Tamaki was trying to distract him, a tradition for lazy Sundays like these.
“I think you like me,” Tamaki tells Kyoya, serious and intent. “You want me, too.”
“You are deluding yourself,” Kyoya says. “Let me read.”
“You like me,” Tamaki repeats. “You can have me if you want, you know that.”
“I know, thank you for telling me for the fifth time today.”
“Why won’t you have me then? You give me everything, you let me devote myself to you. Why won’t you take more from me? I’m offering.”
“You love too deeply, Tamaki. If I let you cross this line then you will fall in love with me, and I you. It’s better this way. Less messy later on.”
“You mean when you…”
“When I die, yes.”
Tamaki flinches, “I hate it when you talk like that. Like I’m the one being irrational, being stupid.”
Kyoya snaps his book shut, keeping his expression still. It wasn’t often that they talked about Kyoya’s fate. But when they do, they are always at opposing heads. Tamaki insistent on hope and faith, Kyoya resigned and repetitive.
“I don’t think you’re stupid, I think you’re naive.”
“Is it so bad to cling to hope?”
“Only when hope is misplaced. You should hope that I live for as long as possible without pain. You should hope that we get to do half the things we planned on doing together. You should hope that you get to achieve everything you ever dreamed of. You shouldn’t hope for a disease with no cure, Tamaki.”
“I only hope that you let yourself be as happy as possible. And I know I can make you happy.”
“You will be hurt,” Kyoya says, for what feels like the millionth time ever. “Being that close will hurt you when I leave and you stay”
“I don’t care,” Tamaki says, exploding from his seat and to pace around the room. Suppressed emotions spilling out of him in streaks of purple and red. “Hurt me, goddammit. Just, I want you to have everything. I don’t get why we should waste time. We are inevitable.”
“You aren’t planning ahead,” Kyoya says, standing too. To his relief, his body didn’t protest much.
“You aren’t living in the moment!
“You will regret me when I die, if I let you in too close. Is it so bad to protect your memory of me? My legacy could be your friendship, pure and sparkling. Isn’t that good enough?”
“It would be if that’s all you wanted.”
“You need to accept this. I’m doing it for your good.”
“I don’t mind being hurt,” Tamaki says fiercely and for a split second Kyoya believed him and was ready to give in. Then he remembered the doctors, the shots, the ache in his legs and joints. Tamaki could pour his love into anyone, even broken people like him. He shouldn’t waste it, he shouldn't be hurt the way this would hurt.
“You will,” Kyoya said, then he turned away and left. Tamaki didn’t get it. He didn’t understand how devastating it is to kiss the sun and then fall. He didn’t know how to protect himself. “Just trust me on this, please.” He hesitated for a moment and used his only card, his only way to dissuade Tamaki. “René, just believe me."
three
“We did research on you,” one of them said. Judging by their diction it was Kaoru, he tended to talk a little slower, more deliberately.
“Grades. Background. Family tree. The works,” maybe-Hikaru said.
Kyoya looked up from where he was working at his desk, “And you are telling me this, why?”
“We even got hands on your medical records,” maybe-Kaoro said.
Kyoya finally stopped typing, he looked up wearily. Searching their faces for any signs of discomfort, everyone was uncomfortable when faced with death. But their faces were perfect masks of cool detachment.
“That is quite a feat,” Kyoya acknowledged. “Should I fire anyone?”
“No,” maybe-Kaoro said. “We didn't breach any of your staff.”
“Alright,” Kyoya nodded. “So why are you mentioning this?”
“Were you ever going to say anything?”
Kyoya tilted his screen down, in an effort to make himself sound less mechanical. People got distressed when he spoke of his death casually. “It didn’t really come up in conversation.”
“So, what? You were going to let us find out by the press? Is that it?” Maybe-Hikaru looked mad, his mask cracking first. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are, but there is hardly anything you could gain from knowing.”
“That’s still too big a secret to keep” maybe-Kaoru pointed out.
“What do you want? An apology?” Kyoya laughed meanly. “Well, I’m sorry for keeping the tragedy of my life private, but I am going to die. And it will be before I graduate or shortly after.”
They shrunk back, suddenly cowards in the face of his blatant proof.
“So, it’s true,” one of them said. Kyoya wasn’t in the headspace to assume who was who. They were both sad and hurt. They were both looking at him with pity and anger, like if he had just told them everything would be different.
“Yes.”
“Anything we could do?”
Kyoya looked at them exhaustedly. There wasn't anything to be done. “Take care of Tamaki, when I can’t. He has no self-preservation instincts.”
“He knows?” They looked surprised at such a revelation. “But he doesn’t act like you…”
“He acts as my friend, because my condition doesn’t change anything for him. I hope you have the courage to do the same.” He turns back to his computer and keeps writing the report, his hands only trembling a little.
They leave soon enough, arms holding each other together and upright.
two
Kyoya smiles at him, bright and happy. Tamaki aches with want.
“If you could have anything in the world,” Kyoya says. “What would you want? Since the theme of Christmas in western society is giving and celebration, I think we should capitalize on that. So, think Tamaki, this could be big. Anything you want. If you could have anything in the world, what would you want?”
“You, I would want,” spills out of his lips before he could choke it down. He chokes anyways, sobs startling out of him. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, he hated breaking over Kyoya in front of him. He had no right, not when it was Kyoya’s life he was mourning. He shouldn't be mourning, he was still there. “I’m sorry.”
Kyoya looks away tactfully. “It’s fine. What about ‘Winter Wonderland’? Overdone but it should be rare enough around here–.”
“Please,” Tamaki begs. He steps away from the piano and kneels in front of Kyoya. “Let me love you, I already do. You refusing me won’t change the hurt, but it will deepen my regret.” Kyoya ducks his head, eyes squeezed shut. ”You deserve everything, let me give it to you. Please.”
“It’ll destroy you.”
“No,” Tamaki says. “Having you could never be a bad thing.” He reached upwards to cup Kyoya’s face. “Don’t deny us this. We deserve this much, after everything.”
Kyoya’s face crumbled. “Yes, against all judgment. Yes, René.”
Tamaki surges forwards and presses a soft kiss to Kyoya’s cheek, whispering, “I want us to be the most happy people alive, and we will be. I promise, trust me.”
one
“What are you gonna do after school?” Haruhi looked at him seriously.
Kyoya looked at them, a little bit tragic. “If I get the chance, I want to travel.”
“If?”
Kyoya swallowed. “I have something I need to tell you, Haruhi.”
"That you are dying," Haruhi knew what it looked like when someone had bitter news. "That's it, isn't it?"
"You always were too smart."
"I can't believe it. Having a world without you in it. Sounds off. It’s,” Haruhi smiled weakly, their hands knotted on their lap. Dashing. Lovely. Thoughtful. Tamaki could love them so much, it equally soothed and upset Kyoya. To have such knowledge. He turned it around in his head until it only made him happy. He's been doing so for years and now he believes it. They could make him happy. “It’s absolutely terrible, I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
Kyoya returned a few weeks later to their unfinished conversation.
“He could love you,” Kyoya said to them. “Won’t you let him, when I’m gone?”
“He only has eyes for you,” Haruhi says, hands soft over his. “You can’t honestly believe his attention is split."
"I don't. He's too traditional, too loyal to his definition of romance. He devotes himself too much to one person to have enough energy for two, I just mean that when I'm gone. He will be hurt for a while, he'll turn to his friends. To you. And he'll probably fall in love with you."
"You don't give him enough credit."
"I think I'm giving him just the right amount of credit. Do not misunderstand, Haruhi. I love that man, from flesh to soul. I love him and I know him and I know his capacity for love is too big to be dampened for long.
"I don't know if I could love him."
Kyoya considered this, "If it's not you, it will be someone else. I just figured I should tell you that it wouldn't be a betrayal to me or my memory. That I want all of you to be happy."
Haruhi looked at him like they wanted to slap him, or cry. Maybe both. “I appreciate that. I don’t think there is any greater compliment.” They cupped his face and rested their forehead against his, “But forget that for now. It’s not for you to worry about. Stop wasting time assuring me about what might happen and go enjoy your boyfriend, who is probably sulking because you are spending your piano time with me and not him.”
Kyoya nodded, kissed their cheek and left.
Tamaki smiled up at him when he finally made it to the club room, his smile was easy and sure.
And Kyoya loved him.
He loved him till the end
one
His mom opened her arms, and Tamaki crumpled within them.
"René," his mom cried, wrapping him up tight. "My love, my heart. Why are you crying?"