Kyoumaki story; its not hardcore, but if youre uncomfortable with gay pairings then this isn't the story for you. After the host club, Kyouya is a sucessfull buisnessman and Tamaki directs contempory Ballet. They haven't spoken since school, but in their high-profile lives, scandal like news of the hostclub could cause major problems.
In a small mansion, burried in acres of garden, lived Kyouya Ottori. It was hard not to know who he was. The beautiful, successful, young entrepenure was recognised by all and dreamed of by many. His host club days were over, but he had moved on; no longer working in Tamaki's shadow, he was the second richest man alive and he knew better than to look back at the days when the host club had been his life with anything other than embarrasment. Yes, he still took care of his appearance and he had not forgotten how to use it, but not nearly to the extent that the host club had. He still felt slightly guilty about effectively turning half a school of otherwise intellegent girls into mindless hero worshippers, but like many things he had done, that was a long time ago and he was different now.
It was rare that Kyouya awoke long before noon; the master bedroom was situated in the left wing, away from the noise of the servant's morning activities, and thick, velvet layers of curtains arred any moring light from intruding upon his slumber. Despite his trademark efficiency and perhaps over the top organisation, Kyouya Otori did not like mornings.
It seemed this morning didn't like him either.
The insistent ringing of the small, gold, bell beside the door drilled into his head, dragging him from a dreamless sleep. He glanced at the clock; half six in the morning; whoever was calling him at this unearthly hour was going to pay. He concluded that it was probably immature to tell whoever was outside to go away, but Kyouya was sorely tempted too. He fumbled for his glasses in the dark and sat upright in the bed, trying to appear presentable.
"Come in."
The door was pushed open tentatively, heavy mahogany plowing through the thick, pristine, white carpet. Kyouya blinked in suprise as he realised it was Mori that had disturbed him. The bodyguard had known him since highschool and new better than to disturb him for anything less than disasterous.
"Kyouya, Sir..." He seemed hesitent, as if unwilling to depart whatever news he had deemed neccessary to enter for. He was carrying a silver tea-tray on which sat a cup and saucer along with a small jug of milk, a plate of toast and a magazine. There was no sugar; Kyouya had made it clear to the mades that putting sugar in tea was, in his mind, practically an insult to the beverage. The tray looked small and out of place in Mori's large, rough hands and kyouya was puzzled. Normally one of the maids brought it in. The magazine puzzled him too; where was the usuall newspaper? How did they expect him to keep up with stocks using some trashy gossip columbs?
"You had better look at this, Sir..." Mori said in a low voice, placing the tray upon the bed.
"What? The tea?" What could possibly be wrong with the tea that he should be awoken at this time in the morning? Tea shouldn't even have been made yet.
"No, the magazine..." Mori said awkwardly.
"I had noticed that. Where is the newspaper?" Kyouya pulled it out from beneath the plate of toast. "I don't read this rubish! What..." He fell silent, glancing at the cover, his eyes wide. "Oh..."
"Indeed, Sir..."
The cover was glossy and vibrant, but instead of the usuall storys of diets and celebrity breakups the main point of this issue was made clear by the large picture of two boys on the front. One with dark hair, the other fair, both beautiful and both almost naked. Kyouya had forgotten this particualr photoshoot, it was one of those memories that he kept locked away in a darker corner of his mind reserved for thing he would rather not think about. They had been about eighteen when it was taken and Renge had decided it best to be a little more daring with the issue as it would be their final one. They were in their usuall pairs, and had hired a professional photographer to take photos, paying him a little extra in order that no knews of the event would reach outside the hostclub.
Whilst it was effectively porn, Kyouya reminded himself that he was technically an adolescent back then and blamed his hormone-addled brain for his behavior. Despite this, he knew that in the same situation; with just one smile from Tamaki, he would probably make the same mistake again.
"How many magazines have got hold of this picture?"
"Just this one, Sir. But the press are waiting outside the gates; theres a lot of them, Sir."
"Oh..." Kyouya sank back into the bed, scrunching his eyes closed.
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