Fate likes a Good Joke
Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club or any of its characters.
Kyoya Ootori could see the red string. Not just any red string, but the red string. The braided scarlet string that bound fated lovers together in an unbreakable contract. This string could never be severed; one could say it was the embodiment of fate, or just another toy in its possession. Although some believe it to be real, somewhere along the course of history, the facts had been warped to create a folklore like appearance. Controversy over its existence was born, but there were only ever two sides: the ones who believed in the stories… And the ones who didn't.
Anyone who even laid their eyes on Kyoya Ootori would usually peg him as the type who wouldn't even begin to tolerate such nonsense. He seemed the type to believe in sciences and the logical ways of explaining the world – but one would find it hard to deny the truth when the evidence was laid bare in front of their eyes.
Kyoya had uncovered the secret of the red string when he was in primary school, he had heard some of the teachers telling it as a story to send some children to sleep. That night when he went home, he saw a string tied to each of his parents' fingers. His mother's hung limply from her hand and the colour looked washed out. It was frayed and tangled but led to nowhere, it was as lax as any other braided thread would be when tied to one's finger. He could tell it led to nowhere because it simply ended – a neat end. As though someone had gotten a pair of scissors and snipped it. His father's on the other hand, flowed off his finger and out the door somewhere, it was red and not at all worn out like his mother's was. Anyone with half a mind could tell that this couple was broken and had been for years but all the young Kyoya knew was that they were not meant for each other and never would be. It was at that young age that he realised the red string meant nothing at all. It didn't do anything. So what if it was there? This was a hardly acceptable realisation that struck him with the dull blow of reality. So much for those happily ever after stories the teachers spent their time telling. But the young Kyoya didn't even cry, he bore the news stoically and continued about his business as usual. Although the sight of undestined couples wrung his heart.
Later on – around his high school years – as Kyoya walked on the street, he saw young couples who were lucky enough to have found their fated ones and people who were lying, saying that they would always be together when they clearly already had somewhere else out there. These broken relationships no longer came as surprises and Kyoya had learnt to suppress the urge he had to break up the fake couples and drag them to their destined pairs. But just witnessing these couples took its toll. Perhaps this was the reason he had become devoid of emotion. He liked to think that he had simply dulled his impulses – in reality, he had come far too close to murdering his emotions.
Amongst the chaos of tangled and knotted string, there were so many types of people with the string. There were the fated couples and the ones were not destined for each other and yet lived a satisfied life. There were those who decided to ignore the calls of fate and instead, obeyed the commands of diplomats, there were those who did not have a string at all (some say Fate had decided they were unworthy of the threads, Kyoya thought they were lucky – at least that's what he told himself). There were even people out there who had a broken string because their partner's life had come to an early end. However, the worse of all, the most pitiful state someone in the possession of the string could be in was a one sided fate. A love that was destined to never be requited. A love that was the embodiment of a dead end.
These were rare cases. Sometimes, the object of the curse still found happiness but almost all of the time, the recipients of this cruelty were left to pine after the unknowing objects of their affections forever, never to have their feelings returned and never to know why. Kyoya pitied these people, he really did. He sympathised with them but never went beyond that. He had an arranged marriage planned for his twenty-fifth birthday. He knew that. He had always known. So why did it hurt so much when he found that his red string had appeared on his finger one day. A thread that didn't twine around another person's finger. A one sided red string. Why did it hurt when he realised the implications of the string.
Why did it hurt to even look at the bringer of his doom? On their first encounter, Kyoya had simply stared. For the object of his 'affections' was none other than:
Tamaki Suou.
The boy was loud, obnoxious, annoying (to say the least) but Kyoya unwillingly loved him. With all his heart. He loved him on his bad days, his good days even his I'm-too-good-for-you-lowly-servants days. He adored the way his eyes teared up easily when he was denied a treat or the way he brushed his purposefully overgrown bangs behind his ears on the rare occasions that he would concentrate. He loved his slender figure and his long, elegant fingers. He loved the golden halo around him and the unbreakable aura of utter confidence that enveloped him.
Kyoya loved every inch of the boy.
But the boy didn't love him back.
He had known this was to be the case for evermore when his red string appeared on their first encounter. The thread had been twined around his pinky, braided intricately, looking elegant but not deliberately so; it had been of the scarlet variety and almost seemed to glow as all red strings did when in close contact with their owners' fated pairs. The red string had been untangled and twirled in the air enthrallingly – right in the direction of Tamaki Suou's hand. It twisted and turned and seemed to sway to its own personal breeze, reaching towards the blonde's hand.
And that's where it stopped. About an inch away from the other boy's graceful finger. Kyoya had recognised it for what it was immediately. He had always had a sneaking suspicion that this would have happened to him. As if It wasn't enough to be the third son of a major corporation and shouldering the expectations of an entire company. Fate just had to go and mess up his already ruined life even more by adding a freaking one-sided red string into his list of problems. No big deal. Just the rest of his love life ruined. Not that Kyoya had been expecting anything. He knew that he would never have been allowed to succumb to the calling of his destined one, he knew he would end up in a diplomatic marriage. On top of that, he was a male. And so was the Suou love child. Although it hurt him to even think about it, it was an undeniable fact that he had learnt to accept. So Kyoya had forced himself to believe that he didn't expect anything.
No. He hadn't at all been dreaming that maybe – just maybe – one day, his family would unleash him from the shackles that had been chaining him down and holding him captive since his birth. He hadn't at all been dreaming that maybe one day – just maybe – he would meet his true love and get even just a glimpse – was that too much to ask? – A mere glimpse of what the life he could have led with his beloved would have been like, given the opportunity. And what did he get thrown up in his face instead? A life in which he was destined to devote his heart and soul into someone who had absolutely zero chance of falling in love with him in return. Zilch. Zero. Nada.
Kyoya was just sick of this. This pain that he felt when he saw girls on the receiving end of Tamaki's affections. He had long decided to live with the pain in order to stay at Tamaki's side. He created the host club to spend more time with him – even his family thought he was merely helping the company by befriending the heir of a major business; these were Kyoya's perfect excuses.
But for all this, he still hated it when he enjoyed the small gestures of affection that Tamaki sent his way from time to time. He hated it when Tamaki flirted with girls whose names he probably couldn't even remember. He hated it when he knew he couldn't do anything about the string that seemed to reach its tendrils to Tamaki, only to be stopped by some invisible barrier. And he couldn't honestly say that he didn't utterly despise it when Haruhi Fujioka came barging into their lives.
She was an ideal woman and he knew it. Independent, smart, blunt, honest and pretty. Kyoya knew for a fact that he would have rejoiced if he was to find her to be the other half of his diplomatic marriage; she was perfect. However, that didn't help him get over his petty self when he saw the eyes Tamaki looked at the girl with. He knew that deep down there was nothing he could do but try to make Tamaki happy, so he pretended not to care and acted the sidekick when his other half practically declared his affections for the outsider at least thrice a day. Each time killing Kyoya a little more on the inside.
But Kyoya was smart. Very smart. So he played it dumb. And safe. Very, very safe. He was nice to her; He said all the right things; He acted the supportive friend – all with the ulterior motive of keeping Tamaki Suou in his life. But that wasn't all. This wasn't the full reason of why he decided to put on this sickening façade.
He did all this because he could see it. The thick red string that connected the two together.
He did it because he could tell they were head over heels in love with each other.
But over Kyoya's dead body will he ever admit that he did it to ensure Tamaki's happiness. The next few years flew past like a blur and it was only when the wedding ceremony was over and the couple was off on their honeymoon that Kyoya felt a pang in his chest as he realised what had just happened. What he himself had allowed to happen. The pang soon grew to a pain. The pain threatened to tear his body and mind apart and it got to the stage where Kyoya wanted to rip his heart out and be done with it. So he buried the pain deep – along with his heart. So deep that it would never see the light again. Because it just hurt so damn much. And Kyoya was weak. He was weak and the pain threatened to overpower him; to push him off the edge he had been teetering on for years now.
Burying the heart was easier than he thought. He managed it much faster than expected and was excessively satisfied with the results. The new Kyoya could say all the right sentiments when they announced Haruhi's pregnancy without a stutter. When the baby was born the new Kyoya cooed about it as much as the next person without batting an eyelid and when she turned one, faithfully attended the birthday party like any good friend would, putting on a fake smile that was so well oiled, it slipped on without a hitch.
Then Kyoya began to fade. He had planned for this. The part of the story when he would slowly disappear from his best friends' lives. He started to say 'I'm busy' more and more, until at last, he had said to the phone in reply to ten voicemails left from that goddamned blonde: 'Please stop asking. It's getting annoying". He was tired, and done with everything. He was done with Tamaki and stupid Fate's idea of a good joke.
He was done with himself.
So he hid everything. His heart, his affection, and anything that remained of the vulnerable Kyoya who had been hurt. Not just anything, but everything. And he did it so well, that when he walked past Tamaki on the street one day, he never even gave the blonde a second glance. He did it so well, that when Tamaki came to visit a few days later, he merely asked whether he had a business offer. He did it so well that… He became nothing but a shell. His life had become black and white, the rapidly rising rate of his company's shares no longer gave him even a twitch of joy and even the bright yellow hair of the dashing Suou dulled to a lifeless grey. He married and had three children. He cared for them perfectly. He lived his life without a flaw. The only thing that remained of the old Kyoya was the bright red string on his smallest finger, an everlasting scar in his existence. Always stretching out towards Tamaki, the frayed ends never within sight because Tamaki was never close enough, for what did Kyoya need him by his side for? His only value now was in the business world and the Ootori had come to rule the share market after Kyoya had taken over as the successful heir.
Everything about Kyoya had become fake. From his actions, to his words, to his thoughts, to his emotions; everything was lifeless and hollow. The only thought he had that he could honestly say was his own: Fate sure likes a good joke. Must've been why it picked him. And even though his world was grey and dead and he was devoid of emotion. It was okay. It was okay because he no longer had to feel the pain. It was okay to feel nothing at all as long as the pain went away.
It was okay.
But was it really…? Or was it just another lie Kyoya had crafted and tailored for himself. But even if it was…
He knew that he could no longer tell.