True beauty is never tarnished.
If there was one thing Tamaki Suoh loved, it was beauty. Which was fitting, because Tamaki Suoh was beautiful. And if he loved beauty, and he was beautiful, then it stood to reason that he should love himself.
What a crime it was, really. What a beautiful crime, that God would make a star as bright as he. What a crime it was, really, such a breathtaking crime, that God would choose to make such lips as his. Everything he touched couldn't help but fall in love.
Day after day, he took every opportunity to sing his own praises. He was beautiful, charming, radiant, enchanting, gorgeous. And everywhere he went, someone would tell him so. None could help but notice his pure blonde hair, shining in the sunlight, gently bouncing in time with his steps. None could help but notice that his eyes, while perhaps appearing blue on first glance, held a unique lavender tint, and should he favor you with his gaze, you would feel that you were the only thing in the entire world that existed to him at that moment. Never had even the barest hint of a flaw dared to touch his features.
He was perfect. Anyone would tell him so.
…
Tamaki Suoh stood in front of the mirror.
He didn't see it.
Oh, he saw the striking and bouncy hair. If he so wished, he could reach up and run his fingers through it, proving it to be every bit as soft as it looked. He saw the lovely lavender gaze- he saw it every day. He saw his face, the face that no mark, freckle or pustule had ever dared touch. And at the moment, he also saw his arms and chest, free at the moment from the confines of a shirt. It was a physique that truly only could have been sculpted by God himself. Even in the darkness of his room, the early morning light failing to penetrate through the thick, closed curtains, it was plain for anyone with eyes to see.
It was all beautiful.
But the host club prince had heard a phrase, once. Some kind of commoner saying, he recalled.
"It's what's on the inside that counts."
On a good day, a day when he didn't feel like he did now, he would have shrugged and simply reassured himself that it was just something ugly commoners said to make themselves feel better. The kind with warts and strange foot diseases. But even on one of those days, he wouldn't truly have believed it. He simply would have been able to temporarily brush it to the back of his mind.
Now as he stood staring at his own reflection, there was nothing to distract himself with, nowhere to run nor hide. The question echoed again and again in his mind.
What was inside?
He thought. And thought, and thought, and thought. And for the life of him, he had no answer.
What, he wondered, was inside other people?
He thought of his friends.
Inside Kyoya, there was a spirit that would never give up. A spirit that had gotten back up, even when it seemed for all the world there was little point in doing so, and continued to pursue his goals anew. Inside Kyoya, there was a kindness and a caring for other people that few would ever be privileged enough to discover, especially if the bespectacled boy in question had anything to say about it.
Inside Honey-senpai, there was what Tamaki had once referred to as "true strength". Despite the expectations of others, despite the pressure put upon him to conform to a certain mold, he had broken free. To pursue the things he truly liked, and to truly enjoy them, regardless of what anyone else might think...
Inside Mori-senpai was perhaps the most loyal person he had ever seen. Be it the blood of a faithful servant, be it the bond shared between family members, be it nothing more than a true friend... whatever the reason, if Mori valued someone, he would serve them to end and guard them with his very life if need be.
Inside Hikaru and Kaoru, there was a boundless energy, and what Tamaki felt could only be called courage. The courage to slowly but surely break out of their own shells, to take a step, even a small one, out of their own isolated world. Into a place unknown, perhaps even riddled with dangers- but still they did it.
Inside Haruhi... well, there were so many wonderful things about Haruhi, really. But perhaps one of the things he admired most was her drive and independence. The will to keep moving forward towards her future, with or without the help of anyone else. Yet slowly but surely... she was learning to trust.
They were all so wonderful. They had all come so far and he was so proud of all of them. How he had longed to tell each of them exactly that. They were all so different, but still so amazing.
… So what was he?
Sometimes he felt that he was nothing more than a lock on an enormous cage, keeping these amazing people, so filled with potential trapped inside a fantasy that he couldn't bring himself to let go of. Out of sheer stubbornness, he had probably paid someone to swallow the key.
He was despicable.
Was that what was inside? Plain selfishness? Wickedness?
The prince wondered.
Finally tearing his eyes away from the mirror, the prince toyed idly with the knife he held in his hands. It was a lovely knife, really. The blade sparkled in the few weak streams of light that managed to slither into the room. A beautifully carved wooden handle held a red gemstone that was probably fake- but he liked it.
It had been a whim, really. After for the most part failing repeatedly in getting Haruhi or anyone else for that matter to accompany him into the world of commoners, he'd decided to go alone. By chance, he happened upon a small antique shop, and for some reason or another, the knife had caught his eye. The nice old man behind the counter had even shown him the proper way to clean and sharpen it while he watched in fascination. He'd picked up a few other trinkets while he was there, but this one was undoubtedly his favorite.
True beauty is never tarnished, he thought.
… But at this point, he questioned whether he was "true" anything.
Besides, it would be appropriate, he reasoned as he slowly began to run the edge of the blade along his forearm. Just clean up and slip on his school jacket and no one would ever know. It would be just like the rest of him- as long as you cover it up with beauty, no one will see the ugliness underneath.
He passed the knife to his other hand.
It hurt. He knew in the back of his mind that it did. But not so much as to make him stop. All he really felt right now, if you could even call it a feeling, was numb and empty.
Finally pulling it away, he held out his arms and looked back to the mirror to admire his handiwork. Blood cascaded down them. It was a lovely color, he thought. Five cuts, in a neat row, on each arm. Granted the ones on his right arm weren't quite as straight and even since he'd be using his left hand, but...
Three sharp knocks sounded at the door.
"Master Tamaki," came the partially muffled voice of Shima. "Hurry up and get down here. You're going to be late for school."
"... Of course." He answered back, barely audible. "I'll be right there."
He took one last, long look at his reflection in the mirror.
If there was one thing Tamaki Suoh loved, it was beauty. Which was fitting, because Tamaki Suoh was beautiful. And if he loved beauty, and he was beautiful, then it stood to reason that he should love himself.
But he didn't.
So this isn't my usual style, but the inspiration bug bit me. I recently rewatched the episode "Attack of the Lady Manager" and this idea sprung from Renge's description of Tamaki as "the lonely prince" and his monologue in the rain. I don't know, I thought it would be interesting.
I need your feedback here, guys. I think this could stand on it's own, but I'm contemplating making it multi-chapter. What do you guys think? And if I do continue, do I make this a pairing story (although I don't know what pairing I'd use) or keep it more general? All comments are appreciated, thanks!
- YummyYaoiSandwiches