"I kept thinking that I know you never would
And now I know want to kill you like only a best friend could!
Everyone's caught onto everything you do…."
-Seventy Times 7 by Brand New

Tamaki was livid. Absolutely…livid.

There was no other word for it, for this feeling raging in him. He was furious, ready to snap. For hours, he had been up in his room, pacing, cursing under his breath, yelling out profanity, punching his walls. A maid had come up ask if everything was all right, and he had screamed at her- screamed. Even he knew that was very unlike himself, but he couldn't help it, and frankly, he didn't care very much right now.

He just didn't take betrayal very well.

Betrayal; there simply wasn't any other word for what had happened. Kyouya knew how Tamaki felt towards Haruhi; he had, in fact, helped Tamaki to realize exactly what his feelings were. He knew, and still he'd- he'd-

Tamaki had walked in on him and Haruhi.

It had happened just a few hours ago. The Host Club had disbanded for the day, each host going their separate ways. Tamaki had forgotten his schoolbag halfway to his ride, and returned to the third music room. He never could have been prepared for what awaited him there.

No- the two of them had not been having sex; Tamaki would have flipped out right there in front of them had he seen that. But, they might as well have been. Kyouya had Haruhi beneath him on one of the sofas, kissing her hungrily, his hips- oh, it was just obscene! His hips kept grinding down against her and hers were raising up to meet his! It appeared that the only thing keeping them from going at it like rabbits was the fact that they both were still fully clothed.

Tamaki had been unable to move. He had stood there, frozen, his eyes wide in horror, unable to believe what he was seeing. And then, he had fled the room.

The doors to the third music room had slammed shut behind him, but he didn't care. All he had known, at that moment, was that he had to get away from that room. He'd felt sick; he'd been sure that he'd throw up.

And now he was at home, and absolutely livid over the situation. Why would Kyouya do this to him? He just couldn't comprehend the idea that Kyouya- that Kyouya would do something like this. He knew Kyouya was the so-called 'Shadow King,' but he was his best friend.

And best friends just did not do this to each other.

Kyouya had to have known what he was doing. He would know that this would hurt Tamaki. Was that his intention? No; Kyouya never did anything except in retaliation, and as far as Tamaki could remember, he'd done nothing to deserve- this.

But…Kyouya was ambitious. And, it was obvious that Kyouya would do whatever was in his power to achieve his ambitions. Was Haruhi just a (Tamaki's idea churned at the thought, and his blood boiled) trophy for him? Another obstacle to overcome? The thought was just sickening.

No; that didn't sound right. Kyouya would have, at some time or another, hinted to Tamaki about this- they were friends and did confide into each other.

The more Tamaki thought, pacing the room as he did so, the more Tamaki came to realize: Kyouya did not care for anyone but himself.

He was selfish; if something did not bring himself any merit, it simply did not matter to him. It wouldn't mean much to him, that Tamaki liked Haruhi, if he liked Haruhi. He would do what it took to make Haruhi is and- well, fuck whatever Tamaki wanted.

When this realization hit, Tamaki did get sick; he'd only just made it to his bathroom in time. These past few years of spending time with Kyouya, confiding in him, trusting him, were all worth nothing. He felt like crying; he wanted to cry, but held back. He would not cry, not over that bastard.

When Tamaki left his bathroom he was extremely unpleasantly surprised to find Kyouya sitting on his bed. He stared at him, glaring.

Kyouya was the first one to speak. "You left your schoolbag at the club; I've brought you it." He patted a backpack on the bed beside him.

Tamaki didn't say anything; he couldn't figure out what to say, how to put into words everything he felt, everything he wanted to throw at him.

Kyouya stood up. "Tamaki…. I know you saw us earlier."

Kyouya paused, obviously waiting for him to say something. Tamaki locked his jaw, still glaring at him, his hands balling into fists.

"I'm sor-"

Tamaki punched him, hard, across the face. There was no way he was going to let Kyouya finish that sentence, ever. He didn't want to hear it; he didn't care.

"Get out of my house," Tamaki said as evenly as he could

They'd just stared at each other for a few seconds, Kyouya's eyes wide with shock. Then, the vice president picked up his glasses and left the room.

Surprisingly, Tamaki didn't feel much better after hitting him. Though, he certainly hoped that Kyouya would have a black eye whenever he saw him next.

I hope you enjoyed this. There may be another chapter or two added.

Please leave constructive criticisms.