Disclaimer:I do not own OHSHC, though I really wish I did...
A/N:Um... I don't know why I wrote this. I got the idea and wrote the whole thing up in 20 minutes with no editing, and those of you who know me should be aware that I edit like a madwoman whenever I can. I love this pairing for a million reasons, but I normally don't write any sort of fluff or whatnot so this is... Well, I have no idea how good it is. Hopefully I'll at least amuse you for a few minutes.
I wonder, Father, what you would do.
Kyoya hadn't cleaned his room in all the time he had lived in it, merely laying out instructions for where everything should go and ensuring the servants followed them. Even when he needed something re-organized he would designate that task to someone else and make better use of his time while this was done, knowing no maid would dare do an inadequate job for the youngest Otori.
You would be angry, I expect.
But now that the time had come to leave for university Kyoya had found he wanted the servants to take no part in the packing of his things for school. He could not risk this task being done incorrectly, and there were certain things he didn't want it known that he was bringing.
Like the photo album.
You might yell, or punish me, or you might demand I stop.
The album itself was nothing special- a plain cover containing a series of pictures, three or four to a page with no personal notes or trinkets beside them. Kyoya had never been one for such things, though in fact the sentimentality of a photo album was in itself unusual for him. More so when one considered that he had put it together himself, using photos gathered from an extensive list of places.
The first few pages were a decoy of sorts, containing nothing but pictures of the host club- mostly re-prints he'd saved from what he sold to customers, though one or two were of private gatherings. No costumers were included in any of the photos, not even those Tamaki had made it their business to help. Contrarily, the blond boy had found his way into each image.
You might even strike me, it's happened before. If you're angry enough.
Every now and then there would be an individual or pair shot of the others- Hunni drooling over a cake shop's display, Haruhi reluctantly opening increasingly frivolous presents on her birthday. The twins sharing a sundae that was bigger than their head's combined, or Takashi attempting to maneuver through a low tunnel with his cousin still on his back. Tamaki showed up very often, each time in a pose more absurd than the last, and the only one of Kyoya alone showed him warding off the blond's beast of a dog- who had successfully distracted him long enough for her owner to snap a photo.
He'd considered putting in a few physical memoirs, but those had been stored elsewhere. A cat-shaped hand puppet, a few tea glasses, the patch from a jacket that no longer fit him and even a few commoner trinkets Tamaki had hoarded. Those he wouldn't be taking with him.
So I wonder, Father, what you would do….
But the end of the album, what dominated more than half of its pages, was reserved solely by shots of the two together. Sometimes they would be at events run by the host club, but most were private. Beside a photo at the zoo with Tamaki staring in awe at the giraffes while Kyoya shook his head beside him the blond boy was attempting to force his friend to try a deep fried hot dog wrapped in bacon that he'd requested, at a five star restaurant no less. Once or twice he turned the pages to reveal held hands or a too-warm smile, sometimes Kyoya even found himself with his head on Tamaki's shoulder or vice versa, and once a kiss- observed only by the woman they'd asked to hold the camera. The young Otori had never before looked at these photos except to glance in passing as he put them in their rightful place, and he likely never would again. He had no need for them, but he was compelled to pack the album anyway.
…If you knew I loved him.