"You're unbelievable." Hikaru mutters. "It's beyond me how you get away with all of that, but props to you."
"No, I don't think we'll ever know." Haruhi teases. "But I guess that's just part of his charm." Her statement earns an enthusiastic nod from Hani, and murmurs of agreement from the rest of their friends, none of whom are about to pass up an opportunity to compliment and chide their dear old shadow king simultaneously.
"I wouldn't say I got out completely unscathed." Kyoya debates. "Bowing out of the race for the inheritance was… a cumbersome experience. Thankfully, it's not difficult to see the good sense in having a lawyer in the family."
"It doesn't hurt having Hideki-Sensei as your mentor, either." Tamaki adds, referring to Tokyo's premier financial law expert, who has only recently considered retirement after more than three decades of successful practicing.
"Indeed not. Only the best." Kyoya raises a brow at his own comment, his voice trailing off while he swirls the wine lingering at the bottom of his glass. "Ending things with Setsuko-san, on the other hand? Let's just say my father has begun to notice my proclivity for surprise."
Kaoru nods, making a droll noise in agreement. While he wants to comment that it's certainly taken Ootori-sama long enough, what he wants more is for someone at the table to steer the conversation elsewhere. It's his fault they're discussing Kyoya's private life, anyway.
It'd been easy. Pleasurable, even, to engage Kyoya in talk of what his life consisted of these days. It had always been easy on account that he genuinely cared. Being brought up to speed felt good, and helped sooth and confirm the repercussions of what Kaoru called a sound choice—what others might refer to as an epic mistake.
The gentle clink of tines against Swarovski glass snap Kaoru out of his reverie. He raises his glass alongside Tamaki's, giving a wry but loving grin as the blond proposes a toast to the night, and again to their impending futures.
Tilting his head back, Kaoru empties his champagne flute down his tightening throat. At any rate, it should prove to be an interesting weekend.
Impending dawn has never been so cruel.
Bittersweet remnants dance on the tip of Kaoru's tongue; promises and sentiments that are now years gone by. Once passionate thoughts of the future have been relegated to painful curiosities, but still Kaoru stands with one foot on either side of the door. He's unsurprised when instead of asking where he thinks he's going, Kyoya cuts straight to the chase, instead.
"Taking a lover to deter me, but you never imagined I'd be the one to choose another route." Kyoya's taken to the edge of the bed, leaning on hands whose fingers graze the crumpled bedsheets behind him—evidence to convict Kaoru of their mutual need to be unabashedly owned by the other. "Did you?"
Kaoru answers in silence, unapologetic for his actions, though he finds himself completely absorbed by the grief that's taken up the hole caused by Kyoya's absence.
"I didn't want you to have to choose. So I took the option away from you."
It's not as if Kyoya hadn't also tried others on for size. The beautiful, influential sort who Ootori Yoshio would surely approve of. Finding Kyoya inside the society pages, however, was a pang far more unsightly than happening upon photos of himself, as uninspired as they were. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then perhaps in breaking it off Kaoru should have offered his former lovers a scrapbook of their bored faces as definitive explanation.
For better or worse, these days he sleeps alone.
But it was different finding Kyoya there. Where the public might hold flippant interest in who Kaoru shared photographs with, for an Ootori it signified a union not simply of love, but global prowess and a strength that could not be generated by a single individual. To happen across the youngest Ootori sharing his hand was most certainly a moment worth capturing.
It had all left Kaoru feeling a desolate combination of sickening and sickened.
"Host club reunions are few and far between, Kaoru. Is this obstinance why you were unable to make the last one?" Kyoya straightens his spine, but not before running his hand through the stark white bedding that is rapidly losing its warmth.
It's nothing they haven't gone over before. It's the touch-and-go phone calls, the seemingly casual messages passed through their private group of friends. The occasional e-mail that informs Kyoya that the life he wants might still be his.
It's been years, but this time Kyoya is intent on remaining recalcitrant to the nature of their meeting.
"So little faith in us. Not to mention that my choices are mine to make."
Motionless, Kaoru stares back from the threshold, while everything that matters lay teeming just beneath the surface. He's gone without for too long, felt too little for those who've offered their intimacy to keep telling himself that Kyoya isn't the one, isn't his predilection, his more than this.
At this point, it's a mere question of how many times Kaoru can fall on his own sword before he simply fails to come back to life again. What's more, is both of them know it.
Kyoya revels in it, savoring that he's allowed to see Kaoru in this state of raw vulnerability. It's not that he enjoys seeing Kaoru this way, rather he holds onto the fact that these slightly lowered walls are something he can work with. Even treading a deviated path does nothing to change that he is an Ootori to his core. Kyoya is nothing if not aware of his surroundings; recognizant of any avenue that might work in his favor.
Any consideration for his next move is cut short when Kaoru finally opens his mouth, voice so quiet it is a wonder Kyoya is able to make out the words. The look on Kaoru's face alone is enough to indicate that no matter what happens, this time designates a game over.
"I'm tired, Kyo. I don't think I can watch you go through another one." What if the next relationship is the last?
Kyoya's jaw tightens. All previous resolve leaves his body with the realization that Kaoru was never stringing along this episodic malfeasance alone. For Kaoru, each attempt to invite a prospective partner into his life has only ever been in absolute, laughable vain, with Kyoya never too far behind. The truth of the matter is Kaoru never stood a chance.
"You've got to be far more tired than you look." Kyoya's own voice is full of guilt; a somber whisper with regret set into every last word. "Wouldn't it be so much easier if you just came back to bed?"
Kaoru hears the question for the plea it truly is, and responds in kind.
For too long, they've played a most wearisome game. He's so tired as to find more numbness than joy in stepping back through the door, though the hope far outweighs his skepticism. It's no meager consolation to reclaim the space alongside the man who until now has simultaneously been his best and worst kept secret, and for Kaoru, it's enough.
For now, it's enough just to notice the shadow of a smile as it brightens Kyoya's face.
.
.
Hello! This has been floating around in my head for the past few nights, and I finally got a chance to get it out of my system. I love Kyoya and Kaoru, but it can't always be simple for them, can it? ;)
And while I know this piece has an air of ambiguity to it, I rather enjoy it that way. I feel like the important stuff is clear enough, and that not everything else needs to be spelled out. Interpret from that what you may.
I hope this finds you well. Thanks for reading!
