"H...Haruhi..." Tamaki's eyes glistened, wide, desperate. He held tight to Haruhi's hand, hoping that somehow, he could pull her back to him, make her stay. But she was slipping away. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Haruhi was fading away from this reality. She looked up at Tamaki weakly, and somehow, found the strength to give her best shot at a small smile. "...Senpai, don't look at me like that. You look like a sad puppy." She joked. But Tamaki hiccuped, his head jerking downwards, eyes hidden by his bangs. "Don't go..." He whispered, gripping her hand now with both of his. He felt the coldness of her icy hand on his face, and looked up at her. Her smile was still there, and it broke his heart even more, if that was even possible. She shook her head slightly, and he could see her own eyes glisten now. "I'm sorry. I made you worry for so long. But it's okay now. You don't..." She paused, catching her breath, as it was diminishing, "You don't have to worry anymore. I'll be okay... where I'm going." The tears building up in her eyes spilled, but her smile stayed. Tamaki's own tears overflowed, and he touched her hand that was rested on his face. He held it there, his lip quivered, and he shook, trying to hold back his sobs. "I love you, Haruhi." He said shakily. He didn't care anymore what anyone thought. At least... at least she would finally know how he felt. Her eyes closed.
"...Love you too, Senpai."
The soft beeps that had been slowing in the background turned to one long, drug out beep, that seemed to get louder and ring in Tamaki's ears. He felt Haruhi's hand go limp, and it slipped away from his face when he moved his hand. His lips were parted slightly, and tears blurred his vision. He felt that feeling take complete hold on him at last-one that had been trying, and finally succeeded. He felt as if the air had been knocked out of him, as if his chest was being strangled, a huge lump rising in his throat. Reality sunk in and his whole form shook, loud sobs breaking loose, tearing up his throat and out, Haruhi's name along with them. He slumped over onto the hospital bed, head buried in his arms, his back quaking as he cried.
So long. For so long he knew something was wrong. He had always known something was wrong... and he hated himself with a burning passion for ignoring it and pretending everything was okay, just like he always did. You're such an idiot, Tamaki. You're such a hopeless moron. He insulted himself, but stopped after a while, seeing as that would do absolutely nothing. The pain that was tearing him in two felt never ending. And the longer he sat there, the more he felt like just following Haruhi to where ever she would be now...
But soon, his moments of complete oblivion to the world around him ended. He felt hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him up off his knees from Haruhi's bedside. The owner of those hands dragged him out of the room, and he didn't recognize who it was until they were out in the hallway.
Kyouya looked Tamaki in the eyes. For a while, he only stared. He saw how broken up Tamaki was... a predictable response from him to such a situation.
But he didn't give a damn about predictability right now.
Without another word, Kyouya pulled Tamaki into his arms, embracing him in the most comforting way he'd ever touched anyone. He felt Tamaki's arm wrap around him, hands gripping the back of his shirt, his face sink into his shoulder. He felt as Tamaki shook. Soon enough, Kyouya's eyes watered, and his facial expression finally broke from it's stone facade. He closed his eyes, just holding his friend. He knew that Tamaki needed this comfort now more than ever... and as much as he hated to admit it to himself, he needed it to. Haruhi... was someone the entire Host Club had come to hold dear. For what reason, he could never figure out... She was just a girl. A poor honor student who was indebted to the club only because she was clumsy and broke an expensive vase. That was the only reason they kept her around. The only... reason...
But he knew that wasn't true.
She was just a girl. She pretended to be strong, and it was such a believable act. But she was fragile. Too fragile. Far, far too frail not in mind, but in body. How did she manage to hide it so well all this time? Why didn't they notice it sooner? She was slipping away all that time, and no one even flinched, no one even said a word.