Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own Ouran, neither do you!
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Kyouya couldn't swim.
It wasn't like he hadn't tried, and failed, many times, he just couldn't get the hang of it. Water threw him and even getting close to it made him uneasy. He hated even going in it, and diving into it from a height seemed like madness.
Until it was her that was falling.
In that one moment, all his fears almost passed away. He stood there, ready to run after her, until his brain reminded him why he couldn't and he stood there frozen, helplessly watching the scene above until he saw a head of blond hair falling in a graceful arc towards the serene waters below. All he did was stare, unable to convince his legs to move. He saw them surfacing together, Tamaki looking ever the hero as he carried the damsel in distress in his arms as if she was a feather. All he could do was hand him the towel. That's all.
Kyouya couldn't swim.
He almost wished, though, when he heard about Haruhi's next water-based exploit as she fell out of the carriage, that it was him there to be the one catching her, holding her, the shoulder she buried her head into. He wished he was someone she could count on, depend on, someone ready to leap into the water if it meant keeping her safe. He didn't want to be so… worthless. They was only one thing he could do.
Kyouya could dance.
And as he swept her out of Tamaki's arms and began to slowly waltz around the dance floor, staring into her dark eyes, it almost felt like… enough. He couldn't be the victorious hero who risked death to come to her rescue without fail, but he could be the one who was just brave enough to take her away from the man who was standing behind him, ready to bash his face in. And for once, it almost felt like… enough.