oh wow. i sure love my kaoru/haruhi angst.

"You were in love with Kaoru," Kyoya states, his voice gentle. And this is Haruhi's wedding day, of all things, but he's not wrong; he rarely ever is. "Is that why you can't look at him?"

"I do love Tamaki," Haruhi says instead, which is the truth. She loves her now-husband, but she feels a gentle ache whenever she sees Kaoru, like a bruise that's being pressed. A reminder, almost, of what she has given up. "Don't think otherwise."

"I didn't say you didn't," Kyoya says. In the moonlight, his hair is blacker than black, the colour of an oil spill. Hikaru likes to joke that he dyes it for dramatic effect, but even that thought cannot lighten the sombre mood that has overtaken them both. "You are allowed to share your heart."

"Yet not my hand," Haruhi answers his unspoken question. "It's not a matter of who I love most. It's who I can love with the least damage."

"You think of Hikaru," Kyoya nods. "Because perhaps he can handle you and Tamaki, but you and his brother?"

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Haruhi nods, careful not to disturb the elegant coils of hair nestled at the back of her neck. She's grown it since she left Ouran. It is a nuisance at times, but it does suit her - the Host Club were always right about that. "But also, Tamaki would take it harder."

Kyoya looks at her through hooded eyes. Lilac washes him out, Haruhi thinks idly, but Tamaki had insisted. A hark back to their school days, when everything was simpler. Or more complicated, depending on how you spin it. Haruhi doesn't miss the constant excess, that's for sure.

"Don't you think Kaoru is hurting?" he asks her, and Haruhi cannot look at him anymore. Of course she does, but it is easier to pretend. Kaoru smiles at her easily, these days, but she sees it in his eyes. After all, Haruhi has always been good at telling the twins apart. It is no wonder she can notice what she wishes she couldn't.

"That's not fair," she responds, and her voice breaks, her heart alongside it. "I made my choice. It wasn't easy for me, either."

Still, she doubts herself. Swathed in ivory silk and lace (for Tamaki has always been quite taken with Western tradition as much as he has Japanese), Haruhi can envision a life in which she picked differently. It is different, but perhaps no better. Kyoya must know this, yet he insists on torturing her. Except it wouldn't be torture if she didn't still love Kaoru.

"It's not too late," Kyoya whispers. "The papers aren't legalised. You can leave him."

"I can," Haruhi says. "But I won't. There is no guarantee that Kaoru will take me. And you are forgetting that I love Tamaki also."

Kyoya bows his head. "Very well," he says. "Though you know I have always tried to do my best by you, Haruhi."

"I know," Haruhi admits. "That's why I can't let this happen. Perhaps this would be best for me, but what of the others?"

"Always a peacemaker," Kyoya scoffs, but his tone is kind. "I wish you well, old friend."

"Likewise," Haruhi responds, but he is gone, and she remains a beacon of white in a starless sky