:Title: Killer Thoughts
:Author: Ironically Yours
:Rating: T
:Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
:Pairing: TamakiXKyouya (Yes, in that exact order.)
:Genre: Romance (In a completely sappy but angsty way.)
:Summary: Love stems first from the heart, before it consumes the thoughts and mind. Kyouya can't stop the battle between the two. Tamaki doesn't know a thing about love. All we know is these thoughts can kill.
:Notes: This is for "Show me," the first challenge of the "Write the Wrong" fan fiction competition run by youroctober. I'm very excited to take part.
Click. Tick. Clack clack clank. Tick. Click.
Click Click. Tick. Clank Clack Crack. Tick. Click. Tick… Tick….
Sighing, Ootori Kyouya stopped his fingers in a sudden halt, throwing his empty bedroom into silence. Long pale finger tips caressed the keys of his laptop hesitantly, and the bright screen threw light throughout the darkened room. The overwhelming ticks of the bedside clock consumed the earlier morning, preaching the time, 2:34 am, to the only awake soul in the house.
Kyouya was in a slump. His usually fast-moving thoughts slugged along at the rate of an average public school student, and slowed even more as night dragged into day. It was April Eighth, a regular school day, but more importantly, Suou Tamaki's birthday. But the shadow king had nothing. Nothing.
That would explain the crazed late night internet research. By his calculations, it was far too late to get a package shipped, unless he planned on giving the gift to Tamaki in a day or two. Being late was still considered fashionable among the upper circles of the high and refined, yet he could but only assume that this was not one of the times to be such.
Truth be told. Kyouya had a sneaking suspicion that he had planned to have no plan. The teen who seemingly and secretly ran the Host Club single-handedly, who always had a plan to handle every little situation was finding himself to be completely clueless. That was definitely not a reassuring thought for only five hours before school was due to begin. But maybe, just maybe, his emotions were dominating his thoughts, instead of his ever-loyal logic.
Tamaki was turning eighteen years old. How long would that make it since they had become friends? It seemed like Kyouya had spent a lifetime with the half-blood, a century or two together. As the clock ticked on, he couldn't help but laugh at his own stupidity. A plan to have no plan...A plan that forced the ever technical and reason-oriented Shadow King to actually make his best friend a gift, rather than having just flipped out a several hundred dollars for lavish gift…
Kyouya couldn't think of a time that he had ever gone so far for someone else. Everything had always been focused on his inheritance of the family business, of surpassing his brothers and becoming the head of the Ootori Zaibatsu. But, that idiot had wormed his way past being a mere associate, to being a friend…. And quite possibly more? The thought itself scared Kyouya to point where his stomach convulsed unpleasantly, and odd feeling enveloped him.
Kyouya wanted to be more than just friends with Tamaki, despite how loudly his reason-based thoughts screamed otherwise. It was an accidental love, perhaps unrequited, but love all the same- a love for those dazzling warm smiles, the tight hugs, the rare moments of sheer brilliance, and even those times when Kyouya thought the idiot couldn't be any stupider. Kyouya wanted to give Tamaki such a gift that even the dense blonde would be able to see how much he cared for him, even though his brain still pushed for that nice picture book of famous Japanese tourist spots. In the end, it was a battle between his logic and his heart. And maybe if it hadn't been 2:45 am the morning of April Eighth, his brain would have won out. But in this instance, Kyouya's heart had won the upper hand.
Glancing quickly at a page he had discovered, an American site by the name of 'romanceclass dot com', he pulled back from his desk to pull a slip of paper from his desk drawer. The paper was thin, with almost a silky texture to it, and was colored a brilliant red color, with intricate flowers and silver dragons woven throughout. Reaching for his calligraphy brush, he carefully inscribed his thoughts of the white side of the paper.
And within minutes, the gentle sounds of folding paper formed a quiet symphony with the continuous tick of the clock and the relaxed beat of Kyouya's thoughts.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
In about three minutes, Ootori Kyouya would be giving his gift to Suou Tamaki, as a present to celebrate his eighteenth birthday, and his coming of age. Despite his calm and cool appearance, his heart was pounding nearly as fast as the thoughts that circled through his head. The combination of excitement and worry were playing havoc on his digestive system. Why Tamaki had insisted on opening his gift last was beyond him.
Dark violet gray eyes glanced down knowingly at the small plain warm off-white gift bag that was gripped within his pale fingers. Within it, wrapped carefully in white tissue paper, was a carefully folded piece of origami, made by Kyouya himself. The red sheet was creased gently, to form a square with two trapezoids on either side, and two equilateral triangles on the remaining planes. According to his research, he had made a traditional Lover's Knot for Tamaki. Within its folds, He had carefully poured him true feelings into verse, hopefully for Tamaki's eyes only.
But the gift itself was what was causing the Shadow King's sudden bout of indigestion. His brain, now fully awake compared to its previous sluggish state, was echoing loud doubts within his thoughts. Tamaki, sitting only a few feet away, with his head buried in Haruhi's present- a large volume of commoner recipes- may not care for Kyouya's gift. It was small, dull and unexcited on the outside. Tamaki was too focused on Haruhi as of late, it was doubtful he'd even pay attention to a silly piece of paper. How could he expect Tamaki to understand the meaning of such a present? He was apparently obsessed with all things Japanese…
Glancing around at the music room, a sense of foreboding flooded Kyouya's thoughts. The remains of an upbeat party lay littered around, and it seemed only Haruhi was making any attempt at picking things up. Tamaki himself, with a gold crown perched on his equally golden head, was surrounded by mountains of gifts from fellow hosts, customers and classmates, half-heartedly reading the recipe book out loud as he watched Haruhi move around the room. After all of this, a folded piece of paper seemed so meaningless.
The dark-haired second year forced himself to move. Covering the distance between Tamaki and himself, Kyouya stopped behind Tamaki's chair. His footsteps, which had been nearly silent, hadn't alerted Tamaki's remaining customers to his presence, but his sudden appearance at the King's side certainly had. They looked at him, questioning his presence, as Tamaki continued to read the commoner's recipe out loud.
Gently grasping Tamaki's shoulder to gain his attention, Kyouya had to remind himself to breathe. Wide blue eyes sparkled up at him, and a flirtatious smile skidded to a halt and transformed into something more boyish and excited as Tamaki switched from host mode to friend mode and back again. That split second look that was saved only for him was what Kyouya sometimes lived by. When all else failed, he knew that smile could push him through.
"Ah! Okaasan!" That lively voice stirred strange needs within him, even if it belonged to the host Tamaki, not his Tamaki, "Did you bring me a gift? You shouldn't have."
Kyouya smiled softly, aware of the several pairs of eyes watching their interaction carefully. "Don't be ridiculous. Here, take your present."
The crinkling of tissue paper was a sound that Kyouya might have dearly despised if it hadn't brought such a surge of joy in that moment. Just knowing Tamaki had received his gift was enough to silence his killer thoughts and cause his heart to race like wild stallion. His palms were sweating, and only when his head began to swim did he notice he was holding his breath.
There. Tamaki had carefully removed the tissue paper to reveal the Lover's Knot that sat innocently inside. A look of surprise, confusion and happiness crossed Tamaki's youthful and attractive face. Kyouya did his best to memorize every detail of that fleeting look for later, wanting to record such information in his beloved notebook. If only that look, if only his Tamaki, could stay here, permanently.
But as quickly as it came, the expression left, replaced with careful acts of playful thanks and princely humility. Kyouya wanted Tamaki to throw his arms around him and thank him for the gift, not sit there and act like a royal pain in the butt. For once, his thoughts seemed to align with his heart. He willed for his Tamaki to return to him, for those girls to disappear… But thoughts can't replace words. And as usual, his Tamaki returned to silently watching Haruhi, that damn scholarship student, out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh Okaasan, I love this, such beautiful colors…" Tamaki smiled brightly, half at Kyouya, half at his customers, but mostly at Haruhi. "Don't you think so ladies? It is as gorgeous and precious as each of you are to me."
With that, Kyouya was tossed aside. Not literally, but he couldn't feel more rejected. A feeling that had been building in his gut snapped like an over-stretched rubber band, leaving him dizzy and in pain. He had confessed to having feelings for Tamaki in everything but words, only to be brushed aside for the sake of the club… for Haruhi. Wasn't he the one who said business was business, that it should come before all else? How ironic that would be the root of his rejection.
It took all of his will power to walk away from that. Logic forgotten, Kyouya had the strange urge to clamp Tamaki's face within his hands and kiss in senseless just like how his smile had left him... to rip open the tightly folded Lover's Knot and show Tamaki just how he really felt. Returning to his post on an opposing couch, with the comforts of his familiar notebook and laptop, he shot a needy and uncharacteristically emotional glance at the King of the host club… If Tamaki ever saw him as more than a friend, then surely he would return such a look, come rushing to his side…
Tamaki's eyes never left Haruhi.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When Haruhi finally roped the rest of the host into cleaning up after the departure of their customers, Kyouya remained perched on his couch, staring into space with a neutral expression.
When Tamaki half-heartedly brushed the Lover's Knot into the pile of trash on his table because his eyes were too busy reading his new favorite book and watching Haruhi at the same time, Kyouya simply stared at his black computer screen. Mori gave his shoulder an apologetic squeeze.
And when Hunny swept said pile of trash into a bag to be carried to the dumpster, Tamaki didn't even blink an eye.
Mori carried the bag out the door. Tamaki got up to follow Haruhi around the room.
Kyouya didn't move an inch.
You may not have noticed,
But you're all I ever see.
I sit silently beside you,
But you may never know.
I'm yours, but you'll never be mine.
I love you... I love you... I love you.
But these thoughts will be the death of me.
:Japanese Terminology:
Zaibatsu - A clan or Empire. Used sometimes around the rich. Kyouya's father refers to the Ootori family as such in episodes 17 and 24.
Okaasan - Should go without saying, but it means mom.
Lover's Knot - a special yet complex origami where, if there is brushmarks written on the front, it can be easily proven if someone has opened and tried to reseal it, for the lines of the folds won't line up a second time.
:End Notes: Thanks to my dearest friend Tyra for helping me with the Japanese and checking it over for me. You really inspired me to write a TamakiXKyouya story. To Gina, thanks for being an awesome friend; even though I know you aren't quite comfortable with slash yet. I squeezed a little Mori action in there just for you. :3
Reviews are appreciated, as this is my first official fan fiction. Wish me luck! I'll need it with all the amazing writers this piece is about to be pitted against.