Fake Smiles from a Love-sick Puppy
It don't do me any good
It's just a waste of time
What use is it to you
What's on my mind
If ain't coming out
We're not going anywhere
So why can't I just tell you that I care
--Things I'll Never Say, Avril Lavigne
As club ends, I bid goodbye to the last customer of the day to have the luck of designating me today. As I rise, I feel my knees turn to that delectable commoners' treat that Haruhi calls Jell-O. I give a cheery goodbye to the others as I walk towards where you sit across the room; it suddenly seems so big. I glance behind and realize that the others have already left and I can't help but wonder how it is they all got out so quickly. Did they suspect something? I was pretty sure that I had been discreet in my feelings toward you. But then again, maybe I hadn't. I suppose it'll all be clear in a few moments.
You're sitting there, typing away on your laptop, finishing up with the last of today's business. You look so intense as you stare at the screen with the greatest intent that has ever crossed anyone's face; I wish that you would stare at me that way.
I glance behind myself at the empty room. How many times have I done that already? Two? Three? I've lost count. I swallow, trying to get the huge lump in my throat to somehow go down. I'm uncharacteristically nervous and, suddenly, I've reached you. Did the room somehow shrink itself down so that I would reach you faster?
You glance up; I freeze.
"Tamaki? What do you need now?"
I force a fake smile upon my face and force out, as happily as I can, "Could we sit at a kotatsu and have hot pot when I go to your house tomorrow, Kyouya?"
You look at me like I must be some kind of idiot. How can I blame you, though? I feel like an idiot; I sound like an idiot. Can't I think of anything better to say other than that? You must think that I'm some kind of kotatsu-obsessed freak.
"It's spring, Tamaki," you deadpan--but no wonder. You must be used to my foolishness by now.
You snap your laptop shut and rise as you slip it into your bag.
"Let's go, Tamaki."
Like a dog on a leash, I follow you. You reach the door and pause, looking at me. Like a love-sick puppy I stare back. Can't you see that I'm yours?
"Was that all you wanted to ask?"
I force another smile. "Yeah, Kyouya. That was all."
"When the weather gets cool again, I'll have the servants pull out the kotatsu, and I'll have the cook prepare some hot pot. Alright?"
You look impatient. I want to add something, but all I manage to squeak out is another idiotic, "Yeah."
You turn out the lights and we walk out of the third music room and down the hall. We walk out of the school and into our own respective limousines after telling each other goodbye. I never tell you that I love you. At this rate, I never will.