A/N: I'm purging my files, so expect several updates in a row. I apologize for any errors or lacking quality - some of this is old and hardly edited.
A Delicate Constitution and Company
Kyouya resisted the urge to groan aloud at the pounding in his head. He had always been prone to the most awful migraines, but this was the first he had experienced in Tamaki's presence. Thinking of Tamaki reminded him that the blonde was still getting tea and, listening closely, Kyouya was uncertain what to make of the silence outside the living room door. Tamaki was never silent or still, there should have at least been that sense of effervescent movement that the Frenchman practically exuded.
But there was nothing.
Frowning even around his aching head, Kyouya began the careful process of levering himself up and off of the couch without upsetting his delicate blood pressure even further. Unfortunately, while the curtains had been tightly closed on just about every window, it seems one small window higher up had been left alone and as Kyouya raised himself from the couch, the light struck his over-sensitive eyes and he flinched heavily, falling back onto the couch with a thump.
And of course, at that precise moment, Tamaki appeared in the doorway with a tray graced by steaming cups and a china pot. Moving quicker and steadier than Kyouya had honestly thought him capable of, Tamaki had set the tray gently on the table and was seated at Kyouya's side before he even managed to open his eyes again.
The sight that greeted him struck Kyouya breathless. Tamaki was not smiling. He was not whining or leaping about or crying dramatically – he just sat on the floor, head level with Kyouya's shoulder, and stared up at his friend with a tiny frown and the saddest eyes Kyouya had ever seen.
"Tamaki?" Kyouya questioned, very softly.
Tamaki only nodded, not smiling or moving or taking his sad, sad eyes off Kyouya for even a second. Uncertain how to handle this new version of Tamaki, Kyouya was silent for another moment before he attempted to address what he figured must be the problem, the old Grantenue maid's words suddenly echoing behind his eyes, He was a bright and happy boy by nature…but on days when his mother was sick, he got very quiet and he never smiled no matter who spoke to him.
"Tamaki," Kyouya had never used that tender tone for another human being. "It's alright, Tamaki. I'm alright."
But then, Tamaki had never offered that quiet concern to anyone not his mother, and Kyouya had certainly never expected it to be directed at him. It was something of a marvel to Kyouya that Tamaki could feel as deeply for him as for his precious mère.
Tamaki's eyes brightened and he smiled, just a little, his own voice soft for once, "You will be."