From the author's desk: Well…hi. Just to make this clear right now, I'm not new to writing fanfiction (most of my work can be found in the Rurouni Kenshin fandom), but this is my very first Ouran fic. And since Kyouya is my favorite male host, I decided to give writing in this fandom a shot. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how well I captured his character with this piece, since the series is still a little new to me, and I've never read the manga; I wanted to bring in a new facet to his personality, because he catches me as the type who hides himself behind a mask, so to speak. In my opinion, there's much more to him than what is actually visible, and Haruhi obviously realizes that as well. So…this is my attempt at showing that there is more to Ootori Kyouya.
Okay, I'll shut up now. Please enjoy and tell me what you think.
Disclaimer: Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco. I'm only using the characters for my own amusement and am making no profit off of it except people's opinions.
Warning: Light spoilers for Episode 26 of the anime.
Kyouya was not a sentimental person. It wasn't that he didn't care for the people or instances in his life – though it was true that he didn't, to some extent – but he felt that being sentimental wasn't good for him.
Sentimentality did not help him to gain his father's affections, after all. Sentimentality meant wasted time dwelling on people and situations that may or may not make appearances again (Kyouya's example for this scenario was a certain half-French best friend of his, what with his exaggerated conclusions of most situations involving the Host Club's "natural rookie"). In Kyouya's mind, the time spent stewing over the same situation and turning it over and over in one's head could instead be put forth to something more productive that would, in the end, give a greater benefit.
Thus, Kyouya was surprised to find that he was dwelling on one particular event of the evening for the umpteenth time that night with a melancholy expression gracing his face as he lay in bed.
And really, the only one he could see fit to blame was the sole female of the group due to the effect she had on his usually calm and collected thoughts.
He could not forget the feeling of his heart pounding like a drum in his ribcage as he held her at a respectable distance from his person. He could not forget the slight shyness he felt when he placed his hand at her waist, though he was sure he covered it well. He could not forget the unbridled joy that raced through him as they spun and twirled and swayed to the rhythm of the music as they waltzed under the stars and lights of the festival. He could not forget the feeling that they were the only people in the world for those few brief moments that her smooth and tapered fingers were entwined with his. He could not forget the feeling that they really, truly did belong together in the end of it all when his gaze locked with her joyfully luminescent chocolate pools and a warm, easy smile spread across his usually smirking mouth.
He could not forget the hollow, empty feeling that filled his being when he released her from his embrace into the waiting arms of his impatient best friend. He could not forget the pain and guilt that ripped through him like fire because he wanted something and knew that, this once, he would not receive it as he bowed with a mask of absolute sincerity and smiled at the couple, his eyes closed to the reality of the world around him.
Kyouya sighed, and sat up amongst the warm layers of his bedclothes, staring at his hands which lay limply in his lap, tinged silver by the moonbeams pouring through the glass panes of the balcony doors. He could still remember the warmth emanating from her slender waist against his right hand, and the palm of her right hand against his left.
He turned his head and looked out the glass doors at the full moon hanging on the beautiful canvas of the starry sky. He wondered if she was sleeping peacefully, wrapped in the warm blankets of her bed, or as awake as he was at the late hour, staring out at the moon like him.
He would never know the answer. Just like he would never know if she mirrored the feelings he held for her even in the slightest bit.
He shook his head, locks of dark hair flopping lightly against his scalp. It was simple logic, really; he could not, and would never, have her as his own, no matter how much he secretly fancied the idea.
He was the Shadow King for a reason; he belonged in the shadows, observing those around him, but allowing none to get close enough to him to know him completely. It didn't matter if she was a breath of fresh air when compared to all the other girls he'd ever met; she was his weakness, and should she get close enough to him, there could be dire consequences (like the possible loss of a certain best friend, though even he had to wonder if the blond was capable of doing something so harsh as to throw away a friendship over a romantic interest).
Kyouya had never been a sentimental person in the least, not until now. And as much as he hated to admit it, he realized that, within the confines of his darkened room in these late hours of night with only the stars and the moon as his companions, it was all right to let down the façade of calm indifference that he placed on himself every day. It was all right to be sentimental and dwell on the memories of people and situations, no matter if the memory was joyful or painful or a combination of both. At this time of night, when everyone else was asleep and quiet, he found that, even though it was possibly a bit out of character for him, it was all right for him to dwell and think and dream.
Dwell on the girl who constantly reminded him that being in the shadows was never as lonely as he once thought, because the light was always nearby to keep the balance steady.
Think of the girl who managed to steal his heart into the palm of her hand, without him even realizing it.
Dream of the girl and a future with her that, he was quite certain, would never come to pass.
And hope. He had to include hope, as realistic as his personality normally was.
The hope that, somewhere deep within her heart, she felt and returned even an inkling of the affections he held for her.
The hope that, one day, he would get his chance to fully embrace her as the light in his shadowed world.
Kyouya snorted lightly at the last thought as he settled down in his little sea of blankets once more. He would never care to admit it, but after five years of being with him, son ami had finally managed to rub off some of his dramatics on his normally collected personality.
Perhaps some light torture was in order?
He was sure he could find a way to include her in it as well, for making him a sentimental fool when no one else could.
After all, a little jealousy never hurt anyone…
son ami – literally, "his friend" in French; light play on words inspired by Tamaki's shouts of "mon ami" in Episode 24.
A/N: So…decent? Not-so-decent? Please tell me what you thought. Thank you for rreading!