It had all happened too fast. One second Tamaki was watching his best friend scribble in one of his ledgers and the next he was thrown against the car door with his mouth open in a silent scream. The other car has slammed into the door Kyouya has been leaning against and spun the limo around the intersection.
When the world stop tilting Tamaki dragged himself across the seat to Kyouya. With wide eye he shook the other boy—screaming at him in both French and Japanese. Kyouya glasses were nowhere to be found and blood covered most of his face. He did no respond to Tamaki's shouts or the violent shaking. The last this Tamaki remembers before his world went black was the chuffer declaring Kyouya dead.
Tamaki has moved all day. He'd been sent to school but he hadn't gone to a single class. That morning (and every morning since the accident) he'd thrown himself on the couch facing the table where Kyouya usually sat and just stared. It was obvious that the Host Club King hadn't been eating—his usually handsome face was becoming pale and gaunt. He was beginning to look like a beggar child with his wrinkled clothes and unwashed hair.
The rest of the club tiptoed around him. They had tried to engage him in conversation and activities they knew he enjoyed but he ignored them all. Even Haruhi had no luck in coaxing the blonde away from the couch.
"Tono, it's time for the funeral." Kaoru said softly.
With gentle but insistent hands he pulled Tamaki to his feet. Tamaki immediately clung to the younger boy, allowing him to be moved towards the door. Kaoru blinked back the sudden tears in his amber eyes as the blond sniffled pathetically in his ear.
"Tono, Kyouya-senpai would not want you to be like this." Hikaru whispered while he tried to make Tamaki look more presentable. He clicked his tongue and pulled the older boys tie straight.
Suddenly, something inside Tamaki broke at the sound of Kyouya's name. A wail lodged in his throat causing a keening sound to start in his chest. With a broken sob he fell onto his knees and curled around them. Memories swirled through his brain so fast the boy could barely keep track of them. He saw from the first time he'd met the darker boy all the way until they shared their last kiss before the stepped into the car that fateful day.
To everyone's surprise Mori reacted first. He easily pulled the weeping king into his arms and carried him back to the couch. He held him tightly while his grief poured out in waves—soon he was only sniffling and could hold the teacup Haruhi held out to him. He drank the liquid in one gulp and immediately felt the effects of the tranquilizer the doctor had given him. Soon he was drifting off to a place only he could see and the others pulled him towards the chapel.
They all knew the host club would come to an end. Without Kyouya's business sense there was no way it'd stay afloat. Tamaki was in to shape to host either. But maybe it was okay that the club had to close because they were all close enough that even without it they could still love each other and without the responsibilities they could allow themselves a chance to heal.