Summary: Unrequited love hurt, was a double-edged sword. But it was torture to be taunted like this, given a taste of something he could never have the rest of, no matter how much he begged. Such sweet torture… (Kyouyacentric)(Oneshot)
I had this idea rolling around in my head, and I always figured that, no matter how much I love the TamaKyou pairing, Tamaki would probably get Haruhi. So I just took my TamaKyou love and rolled it around Tamaki getting married to Haruhi. And I got this.
I don't own the beautifulness that is Bisco Hatori's Host Club, no matter how much I love all her characters. Random warning for a few sparse curse words and very, very, very vaguely brief smex. Oh, and it's TamaKyou. So…homophobes, begone.
It was raining.
How cliché was that? His mood was steadily getting darker and more depressed, and it was raining.
Though it was probably no more cliché than going to his best friend's wedding and being in love with said best friend.
Kyouya didn't even know when it had happened. They had always been friends. Just friends. So when had that changed? When had being friends morphed into something else, something better, something forbidden? Something dangerous.
The Ootori groaned dejectedly, dropping his head in his hands. The 3rd music room, normally so noisy, seemed foreign right now. It was so silent, so dark, so cold. No Hiitachins play-acting love, no Mori following Hunny, no Haurhi berating a drama-king. Just a simple, quiet drum of the rain pounding against the windows and roof, matching his own misery.
He was glad no one was here right now. The school was more than silent, and while he knew that Tamaki most likely had the keys to the whole school, and could probably barge in at any moment, Kyouya doubted that particular scenario would happen. After all, Tamaki had a wedding to prepare for.
Kyouya groaned again, slouching even further into the plush couch. Had it been anyone else, he would have just declined the invitation, saying he had something else to do. With his business or something. But no, it had to be his wedding. The only person he could never refuse, no matter how hard he tried.
"Idiot," he mumbled to the empty room. If he listened hard enough, he almost thought he could hear a loud voice proclaiming another stupid, stupid plot to a completely disinterested audience. Just like always…just like before.
He should have expected this. Somehow, Kyouya knew he should have somehow figured that this would happen. Sooner or later Tamaki would figure out what he felt for Haruhi, and sooner or later Kyouya would just have to smile and congratulate them and never ever let Tamaki see he was falling apart.
Except sooner came, rather than later.
And stupid, stupid Tamaki hadn't even noticed how empty his words had been, or how fake his smiles were. Tamaki had been too wrapped up in proclaiming his newly-realized love for Haruhi that he hadn't noticed his best friend was dying on the inside.
Still, it was probably for the better. After all, the facts were against them. Tamaki was the heir to the Suoh lineage, and Kyouya was slowly rising his way to the top of the Ootori line. And they were both males. Even if Kyouya had realized it before Haruhi had come, if he had confessed before Tamaki found out his own feelings, even if they had gotten together, somehow, it still wouldn't have ever been able to work.
So it was better like this.
Tomorrow, Tamaki was going to marry Haruhi. And Kyouya would be the best man, and he wouldn't utter a word beyond what he needed to. The reception would go, a mini reunion would happen, all the members of the Host Club gathering in one place for one last time. The newlyweds would go off in a limo for their honeymoon. And after that…
…what? Tamaki had become such a fixed, sparkly bright annoying point in his life that Kyouya hadn't even considered for a moment that Tamaki might someday need to leave. It wasn't like they hadn't been apart before. But before, there had always been that certainty, that knowledge that they would meet again, that they would be together at the club the next day.
Now they had graduated, and there was no more club. There was nothing that dictated they must stay together, that they would return to one another. Come tomorrow, the stable rod in Tamaki's life, the commanding force that kept Tamaki from doing stupid and asinine things would be transferred to Haruhi. Kyouya would pass the reigns to the girl, and he would…would…
Kyouya would work. He would work because otherwise there was nothing else for him. And his world would become a mesh of colorless monochrome and everything in his eyes would turn black and white and grey but that would be okay. Because even if he was a miserable work-a-holic drowning himself in his business just to avoid thinking, knowing that somewhere Tamaki was happy would be enough. Even if she was the one making him happy.
It would be enough.
It had to be enough.
And Kyouya would live in a monochrome world remembering a splash of color that wasn't there anymore, and so long as Tamaki was happy, so long as somewhere he was still smiling, it would be enough.
So why were the backs of his eyes suddenly stinging?
No, no no no. He couldn't cry. He'd said he would support Tamaki through his wedding, he'd convinced himself since the engagement that he was fine with this. He cherished Tamaki so much that he was willing to live in misery for the rest of his life, he was willing to have his world turn grey, if it meant the other man would be happy. He'd calculated every possible choice, every plausible outcome he could think of, and he knew this was the best way.
Kyouya understood that he had to let Tamaki go for him to be happy. A caged bird cannot sing, after all. He understood that.
So he shouldn't be crying.
The Shadow King exhaled softly, dropping his head in his hands. Thank god he wasn't the type whose eyes got puffy after he cried. Tomorrow, no one would ever have to know he'd been crying. And that was a good thing. To the others, he'd look like any other day, he'd get through the wedding, and after that he'd drown himself in his work and it…it'd be…fine, it would be fi—
The name, no more than a startled exclamation, sounded like a gunshot to the bearer, and his head shot up, quickly followed by his body as he spasmed off the couch. No, dear god no, don't let him be here…
Tamaki glowered sourly at the Ootori, leaning unsteadily against the doorframe,
"You're crying," the blond observed, levering off the doorjamb and staggering into the room. Kyouya realized the Suoh was drunk, and quickly wiped at his cheeks. If he could just stall, distract Tamaki, then the loveable idiot's mind would wander off like always and then—
"Why are you here?" Kyouya dropped his hands from his face, trying desperately to seem nonchalant. Please, just let him leave or pass out or something why is he here?
"You left," was the accusation thrown his way, accompanied by a dark, almost angry glare. The King staggered the rest of the way to Kyouya, hands snatching out to grip his wrists with surprising drunken precision. "You left and now you're crying. Why?"
The dark-haired male faltered for only a moment under the steely purple-blue glare. Then he straitened and attempted to pull his wrists back. "I'm fine, Tamaki, everything is fine. You're drunk, you should be restin—"
Without warning, Tamaki leaned forward, crashing his lips over his friend's with too much force and none of the typical grace he usually carried.
By the time Kyouya pulled his wits around him again, Tamaki was plundering his mouth with the force and savagery of a raider, intent on getting everything he could from the experience. And—no, that whimpery moan sound did not just come from him, it couldn't have, because he knew this was impossible and it needed to stop, just stop because it couldn't be done.
Shuddering, much more reluctantly than he would have liked, he pressed his hands against Tamaki's chest, pushing for all it was worth. On any other day, if Tamaki didn't want to move, Kyouya doubted that he would have been able to move the errant king. But today, he was drunk, and he was already off balance as it was, so it took much less force than anticipated to shove the other male off.
This over-compensation of force resulted in Kyouya stumbling back onto the couch, gasping for breath and watching, wide-eyed behind skewed glasses, and the blond regained his balance and stalked forward.
The name cut off in another rush that tasted like musk and alcohol, and after a few tense seconds Kyouya couldn't help but let his mouth relax and mold against the other's, a low, desperate whimper begging Tamaki. Begging for him to not leave, don't go away with her, stay here with him. Even if the world rejected them both, even if they had to run away, wouldn't it all be okay if Tamaki just stayed?
Of course not, but Kyouya didn't have anything left but his dreams and fantasies.
The blond pulled back, an uncharacteristically melancholy look in his violet-blue eyes, and Kyouya's heart twinged at the pain that lingered there…or maybe it hurt because he knew he didn't have the power to drive that pain away.
Once more he was cut off, this time by a gentle finger against his lips. The force was light enough that if he had wanted to, he could have still spoke. If it was anyone else he could have finished his sentence. But…but it was Tamaki, Tamaki who didn't want him to speak so how could he? How could he say anything if Tamaki didn't want him to?
It always had been so very hard to refuse the man anything he wanted.
Kyouya whimpered again as Tamaki's mouth moved down, head falling back as the warm lips crossed over his neck. He barely noticed the buttons of his shirt being undone, could barely think as Tamaki trailed even further down, pausing briefly over one hardened nub, before sliding seductively down to his belly button. And then Tamaki's hand was sliding into his pants and it was all he could do to keep his sanity intact, to merely moan and not scream as a wash of sensation flooded his brain.
He was going to break down and start begging any minute now, he could feel it.
Slowly, sensuously, Tamaki trailed his mouth back up Kyouya's chest, hand still torturing the dark-haired male with sweet sensations. "Kyouya," the blond whispered huskily, nibbling lightly at the demon king's neck. That was going to leave a mark. Damn, he'd have to find a way to cover that tomorrow, tuxedoes don't have high collars, ohgod that feels good…
"Kyouya," Tamaki murmured again, tongue sliding-slipping-trailing across the other's jaw. Kyouya wondered, vaguely, as Tamaki's hand left his lips and settled on his thigh, when did Tamaki get his pants off? It also, in a fuzzy, disjointed sort of way, occurred to him that he should be protesting this greatly, not encouraging it with those little whimpering moan sounds.
And then came the phrase that stopped the world.
"Kyouya," the alcohol-infused puff of air wafted across his face. Carefully, almost as though working with something fragile, the blond nuzzled under Kyouya's chin. "Kyouya Kyouya Kyouya…I love you."
And with a frozen, stunned frame of mind, Kyouya noted that somehow, Tamaki had slipped out of his pants too, and really, shouldn't one of them be stopping this from getting any further. But…but Tamaki had said that, and how could he protest after hearing that?
Tamaki said…he said he loved Kyouya.
Tamaki pulled back, and for a moment, the blond stared down at him, eyes unreadable but shining with something --alcohol? tears? something else?-- that Kyouya couldn't quite place but wanted to, so very badly wanted to, because if he knew what it was then maybe he could know why Tamaki was doing this, why Tamaki was torturing him like this. Because no matter how sweet the torture, it was still painful and drawn out and if felt like it was never going to end.
And then they were one, and Tamaki was moving but Kyouya was moving too, and it hurt just a little bit, but it felt so good. So what if it was spiced with salty disappointment, so what if the moans and cries falling off his tongue were bittersweet? Tamaki wanted him for right now, and if Tamaki wanted him, then it was fine, it was okay, it was good, and so what if it hurt, so what if Kyouya knew that this was only going to end in misery?
Kyouya was screaming Tamaki's name long before he let go.
But there were tears falling from his eyes even before that.
A rush of heat was the only signal that it was over, that the mind-blowing conclusion had come to an end, and for the next few moments in time, the only sounds were Tamaki's ragged breaths and Kyouya's heaving, desperate sobs. Desperate for this to be over, or desperate for more, he couldn't tell.
Or maybe he just wanted Tamaki to say it again.
A pale, thin thumb brushed over the Shadow King's cheek, wiping fuzzily at the tearstains, and Kyouya opened eyes he hadn't realized were closed to stare up at the alluringly distant purple-blue orbs above him.
"I really do love you," Tamaki slurred, breath washing hotly across Kyouya's ear, and the Ootori realized belatedly that drunken confessions didn't count. "I love you the most. But…" A shudder slid through the blond's body. "But I love Haruhi the most too…"
"Tamaki…" The dark-haired male paused briefly, searching for a sign that he would be interrupted once more. Finding none, he went on. "Tamaki, you may love me, but you love Haruhi more, don't you? That's why…" That's why you aren't staying with me.
Glazed, drunken eyes waited for him to finish.
"--That's why you're marrying her."
For moment, the Suoh's brow furrowed, like there was something wrong with that statement. Then he shuddered again, eyes slipping closed before he could reach that blurred epiphany, and with a soft exhalation of air, he collapsed on top of Kyouya.
The Ootori waited five minutes before he was sure that Tamaki was asleep. The he carefully levered the other's weight off f himself and wriggled free, feeling not so much liberated as burdened down as he slid off the couch onto the floor. Now there was just one more thing to hide from Tamaki.
And he was still crying.
Sniffling miserably, Kyouya closed his eyes for a moment, trying and failing to regain his composure. He didn't even bother wiping at his eyes, knowing that the tears he wiped away would only be replaced by more. How…? How could this have happened? How could he have let this happen? How could…how could Tamaki have let this happen, knowing that he would be married in a day, that nothing would come of it? Nothing could come out of it.
"I love you."
A gentle prodding on one shoulder, pushing at a lump on a couch.
A groan, a slight shifting of a sleepy body, then stillness and unresponsiveness.
A sigh, a few gentle shakes, another moan.
A third moan, a fumbled swat at the voice.
"Really Tamaki, must you do this? I let you sleep, but if you don't get up now you won't be able to get home in time to change. And then you'll be late." Absolute unresponsiveness. "For your wedding."
Another stir, a muffled curse, and then the King of Cluelessness himself bolted upright, only a moment later clutching his head and groaning and cursing the gods in the sky and the barkeepers on the ground.
A glass of water was pushed under his nose, and after guzzling the blessedly cool contents down, the blond peered near-sightedly at the other figure, trying to suppress even the littlest bit the pounding throbbing pain behind his eyes. "Kyou…ya?"
The dark-haired male smiled, another glass of water already in hand as he took the empty one and replaced it with the full one. "You really shouldn't drink so much the night before your wedding. Foolish king. I'm going to have to reprimand those Hitachiin twins for whatever pranks they pulled at your bachelor party." He gave another smile, before pulling up off the couch to fill the empty glass with more water.
Oh…yes…the party… Tamaki could remember all the Host Club members minus one there…and then the twins had pulled out some punch they said their mother made, and on any normal day he might have definitely been wary but it was the day before his wedding and he had been so nervous…
Everything was so very blurry after that. He did, however, remember so clearly Kyouya leaving, and he followed, followed all the way to school, and he wondered vaguely Why is Kyouya here? But it hadn't really mattered so long as he was with Kyouya. And…then he found Kyouya, and Kyouya had been crying so he'd…
Had the other male still been in the room, Tamaki would have seen him stiffen. As it was, when the Ootori came out with the next glass of water, he just smiled charmingly in that singular way that totally berated Tamaki for all of his stupidity without actually saying any words.
"Really, Tamaki, I thought you would have known better than to get so drunk, the day before your wedding. Now you'll just have to go through the whole ceremony with a hangover." He pulled a small bottle out of his pocket, tossing it t the blond. "Luckily for you, I bought some eki-kyabe."
Frowning, Tamaki watched his best friend closely. Nothing seemed any different… "No, I mean…Last night…did we…um…do anything?"
There. Nothing. Not even the slightest flicker to say what he remembered of last night was true. But…but it felt so real…
"Of course not, Tamaki. I don't know what you're thinking, but all that happened last night was you coming here and passing out. Don't know why you were following me, but that's not the point." Kyouya glared sternly at the blond. "Seriously, though, if you don't go soon, you'll be late. Haruhi's not going to have happy if you're late…"
A slight, slight smirk crossed the demon lord's face as the Host king leaped to his feet, groaned and nearly collapsed, then ran frantically around the room, clutching his head while he looked for his cell phone to call his car.
The smirk turned sad, and slightly bitter, as Tamaki went into the storage part of the music room. Apparently, he'd been successful in making Tamaki think last night was just a dream. Of course, Tamaki was a fool…but…it might have been nice to—
No. It never would have worked. Even if Tamaki knew that everything that happened last night was real, it still wouldn't have worked. Did Kyouya want Tamaki to know he loved him? Of course. Did Kyouya want Tamaki's love back? Definitely. But it just wouldn't have ever worked out. It was better this way, better for Tamaki to marry Haruhi, and it was okay if Kyouya was left behind.
So long as Tamaki kept smiling…
If Tamaki kept smiling, even if she was the one making him smile, then Kyouya was content to live in monochrome-colored misery for the rest of his life. That would be okay.
Just let him smile.
So, there's my story. I hop all you readers out there liked it. If you did, I would LOVE any reviews you might send my way. If you didn't, shoot me a review anyway saying it was crap. I don't mind!
Hopefully, I'll write more lovely fluff for these two that isn't so angsty. I love angst as much as the next person, but…happy stories are good every now and then too, right?
Jaa for now!