Title: Kyouya Ootori Has Many Secrets
Author: cfleighe AKA Leighe-chan (3)
Pairing: Kyouya x Tamaki
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Shounen-ai (Yay!)
Word Count: 2,000 words-ish
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Ouran. It would be amazing. I wouldn't be poor. I wouldn't have a shitty day-job. But Bisco Hatori came up with the idea first, hence deserves all the credit. I do now own Ouran, but I'm madly in love with it. :D
NOTE: It's 6:30 in the morning, and this is just a silly little oneshot that I came up with in my sleep-lacking brain. I love Ouran, I really do, and I've butchered the characters with this fic. Well, damn. It's kinda fluffy, and I apologize. R&R if you'd like, but remember that this isn't my best work. :D
Kyouya Ootori's thoughts are very, very personal.
Kyouya Ootori has many secrets.
Kyouya Ootori will never share them with anybody.
--
With a click, I pull open one of the tall cupboard doors that line the wall above my computer desk. A stack of black notebooks stares at me, invitingly, calling to me to pour out my thoughts.
On the other side of the cabinet sits another stack of notebooks, these already filled with my observations.
I place one black notebook on the "completed" stack, and pull out another, this one clean and brand-new.
Relishing the feeling of the crisp cover in my hands, I close the cupboard and replace the padlock around the handles. I slip the key – which is conveniently hung on a silver chain – around my neck.
One may be a bit surprised at the fact that I wear a key around my neck, a key which fits into a padlock, a padlock which hides my journals. It probably seems as if I am a junior-high girl, carefully hiding her diaries in a chest and wearing the key at all times.
Honestly – and let me be frank: I'm not usually honest – if anyone ever saw my journals, read my words, I'd be so humiliated that I'd probably leave the country. However, this wouldn't do my career any good; if I plan to inherit the Ootori legacy, I need to at least stay in Japan.
--
Kyouya Ootori is a liar and a manipulator.
Kyouya Ootori is an egoist and has no heart.
Kyouya Ootori doesn't like anybody: he doesn't feel love.
--
I ignore my phone, which is currently playing a tinny version of "Sakura Kiss," meaning that the King of our little host club, Tamaki Suoh, is calling me, and sit on my bed, back against the headboard.
I ignore the flutter I experience when I hear that ringtone, and open the journal.
I'm a deeper person than I let on. I don't think anyone in the host club even realizes that I really, really pay attention to what's going on during meetings and events. I record everything said, every observation, and each action as they present themselves to me. People wonder how I'm so good at putting together events that make money, that work for everyone. It's because I watch. I listen. I act upon their actions. It's rather simple really; I love watching people work, and I love working by watching people.
The next event I'm planning it being jotted down sporadically, but today, my thoughts are elsewhere.
--
Kyouya Ootori is the Shadow King.
Kyouya Ootori is always listening.
Kyouya Ootori is always hiding.
--
I have this next event totally planned. It'll be another dance party, themed based on the festivities that Haruhi dragged me along to in her neighborhood.
Admittance has already been passed through my mind; that girl is extremely watchful – nearly as observant as I am. She saw that I was researching party ideas, and invited me along to her neighborhood's festival. I actually – secretly – enjoyed myself. I didn't know that yakisoba was that tasty.
There is a knock on my door.
"Come in," I murmur, distracted as I'm still writing.
The door opens soundlessly, and I barely glance up as Tamaki enters the room.
My double-take is a given. My blood pressure – already extremely low – kicks up a notch. My mind races, my heart not far behind.
--
Kyouya Ootori has rules he must follow.
Kyouya Ootori has boundaries he has set for himself.
Kyouya Ootori must never break these.
--
I instantly feel the mask – the Ootori mask – fall behind my eyes. Whatever it is I'm thinking will not be noticed by my fool of a friend. All he sees are my cold grey eyes, conveniently covered by my shining, silver lenses, and my cool demeanor, outlined by a crisp white T-shirt and black jeans. The filter on my voice, protecting it from being filled with emotion, slips into place. Nothing ever leaks through.
"Okasan," Tamaki murmurs.
"What?" I reply automatically.
"Not you, my real mother," he says.
I look up, startled to see that his head is bowed, hair covering his eyes.
"Tamaki," I say, the voice filter twitching as I'm shrouded by a wave of empathy.
This wave is matched by Tamaki's aura of complete and utter desolation.
"…gone," he whispers.
"I can't hear you," I say softly.
"She's gone."
A stunned silence follows, and my notebook is placed on the bed beside me.
--
Kyouya Ootori has a mask to hide behind.
Kyouya Ootori controls this mask well.
Kyouya Ootori sometimes loses control, just like everybody else.
--
"Come here."
Tamaki shuffles to the bed and sits down sullenly. I'm swept away in empathy – I've lost my own mother as well. Tears slide down his face, falling onto his jeans, staining them dark.
I crawl forward awkwardly, sitting behind my friend, and wrap my arms around him. He lets out a sob and turns to me, burying his face in the front of my shirt.
"She's gone, Kyouya! Gone! I'm never going to see her again," he cries noisily.
I hug him tighter, heart pounding amidst his sadness, and I feel guilty.
I don't know what to say. I never know what to say. I can plan an event, raise enough money in three hours to support a small city, and inherit a company, but I can't comfort my best friend.
"I'm sorry," I say lamely.
He looks up at me, violet eyes glistening with tears and something else I can't identify, and I can't help but remove one hand from him and wipe them away. His eyes close at my touch, and my fingers tingle where I've come in contact with him.
--
Kyouya Ootori is an emotionless bastard.
Kyouya Ootori doesn't love anybody.
Kyouya Ootori lies, even to himself.
--
"Kyouya," Tamaki says some time later, voice cracking a bit.
He's lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I'm sitting again where I was, journal in my lap.
"Hnn?"
"There's always something I've wanted to ask you, but I haven't had the courage."
"You? Not able to ask someone something? This is unheard of."
"Shut up."
"Sorry. Ask away."
"Why do you hide your feelings?"
I don't say anything. That's what's nice about the mask; where most people would be choking or spluttering at this question, I can just remain silent and unknowingly take advantage of my comrade.
"I guess that was too personal."
I hear the distance in Tamaki's voice, and my heart melts, no, breaks.
"It's quite an extensive reason."
Astonishment floods my body as I feel his hand close around mine. My heart is in my throat – I can barely breathe.
"Uh…what?"
"Tell me," he says, and I glance down to be pummeled by those puppy-god eyes of his.
My thoughts spill out sporadically onto the paper as I think of what I'm going to say.
"Because I need to have a calm demeanor for the Ootori company," I partially lie.
I can't tell him that the reason I seem so emotionless is not only for that reason, but because that I cannot, cannot, let on what I'm really feeling, that I'm hopelessly, inexorably…
…In love with him.
"I have an idea," he says.
I fearfully stop writing, and he notices. He reaches up and takes the journal out of my hands and looks me in the eye.
"I think you're so annoyed by me, so annoyed by my dramatics, my melodrama, that, as the Shadow King, you place yourself in a position most advantageous to you; the exact opposite of me."
I involuntarily gasp, and this is misinterpreted as well.
"I was right," he says sadly, and sits up.
"Tamaki," I say.
"No need, Shadow King," he replies stonily, and begins to leave the room.
--
Kyouya Ootori sometimes breaks through his shell.
Kyouya Ootori sometimes feels something.
Kyouya Ootori sometimes hates lying to himself.
--
"TAMAKI!"
He seems shocked at the volume of my voice, and turns back to face
me. My expression is fierce, my eyes wild, my lips slightly parted, hair in front of my face.
"Kyouya?"
"That's not true at all."
He stares blankly.
"That's not the reason for my silence. That's not why I don't every say anything. There's another reason."
This is the first time Tamaki has ever been angry with me. I don't like it. Tears begin to flood down his face again.
Shit.
"Tamaki…"
"Can you not comfort me?"
What?
"My mother is dead, Kyouya, and all you can say is 'I'm sorry,' to me."
--
Kyouya Ootori sometimes loses control.
Kyouya Ootori knows when to act based on timing
Kyouya Ootori can act for his own personal reasons.
--
Within three strides, I've crossed over to where Tamaki is standing, and wrapped him in my arms.
"I know, I know," I say soothingly as he sobs into my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I understand."
His arms slide around my waist, and my entire body tingles.
"I've lost my mother too, remember?"
Images of my mother, dormant in a pool of blood, flash before my eyes, and the horror of suicide falls upon me.
"How did she die?" he asks me. Apparently he doesn't know.
"She killed herself," I say.
His arms tighten, and I return the favor – although I imagine it is more of a favor to me rather than to him.
"My mother died of her sickness," Tamaki replies.
The next moment is silent, with only his sobs and my steady breathing heard.
After several minutes, he looks up at me, then, eyes finally dry, face slightly pink.
"I'm sorry," he says shyly.
That does it. My self-control shatters. His tear-cleared violet eyes, mussed blonde hair, beautiful skin, musical voice…it kills me.
I put my glasses into my pocket, pull him onto the bed, cup his face in my hands, and give away my first, precious kiss.
--
Kyouya Ootori has emotions.
Kyouya Ootori has feelings.
Kyouya Ootori knows love.
--
Tamaki's kissing me back. His lips are so soft, so supple that I'm just melting into him. This is heaven on earth. He's pulling me down onto the bed, and I'm following, slowly. My moves become bolder with his action and reciprocation.
I run my tongue across his bottom lip, and he whimpers as he opens his mouth to let me inside. I run my tongue along his, and he moves so I'm atop him. I – the silent one – let out a passionate moan as I become more aroused. I slide my hands under his shirt, wanting to feel the rock-hard stomach I've only seen, never touched. His hands are already twisted in my hair, softly stroking and pawing through the short, black locks. His breathing becomes heavier, deeper, and then I'm swimming in those violet eyes.
He pulls away for breath, gasping, staring into my eyes.
"How I've been waiting for you to do that," he says.
It bursts from within me.
"I love you, Tamaki."
The smile is nearly blinding.
"I've always loved you, Kyouya," he says softly.
I can only stare blankly at him, as my unrequited love becomes requited. He kisses me again, and the lovemaking lasted until dawn.
--
Kyouya Ootori's thoughts are very, very personal.
Kyouya Ootori has many secrets.
Kyouya Ootori will never share them with anybody…except Tamaki Suoh.
--
End.