They were at a party of some sort—a charity function held at someone's mansion. Haruhi was sure it was important, but her mind wasn't really interested, anyway. She was only there because Kyoya had asked her to come, and disappointing her best friend had never been an option. He had gone off to get her a drink, or something. She couldn't remember. She was tired and she didn't want to be there anymore.

He found her on a little balcony, sitting on the floor, facing the party. Apparently the dress she was wearing wasn't as important as not standing in those heels. But there was something else, something…melancholy. Haruhi wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine normally, but she wasn't—well, whatever this was. Depressed? Empty?

"It's been months, Haru," he said, softly, and sat down beside her (trousers be damned). She pulled up her knees and buried her face in them. "I know."

The thing she liked about him was that he didn't push. There was no prodding, no expectations, just company. He just sat there, with her, and handed her a glass of some sort of punch.

"I'm sorry, Kyoya. This is supposed to be a party, right? I shouldn't be sulking. You should go do whatever networking you had planned, I'll be fine. Give me a bit and I'll be up and running again."

He sighed, reached over, and kissed her temple affectionately. "Stop worrying about me. I'm not the one with the broken heart."

She smiled back at him, appreciatively (if rather mopey) and looked back toward the warmth of the ballroom. There, across the dance floor, was Renge, giggling about who-knows-what and waving to friends as they danced by. She was glorious—the absolute picture of a happy young woman.

"She just looks so happy," Haruhi muttered, more annoyed at herself then the object of her comment. "I mean, she's my friend, I should be happy for her, right? But I guess it hasn't been long enough. I thought I was over her, but—"

"But you're clearly not."

"But I should be! Or I should at least be able to congratulate her! She's happy, and she's with the love of her life, that should be enough for me," she sighed, "But it's not. I just hate myself for that, I guess. I…"

He didn't interject, and the statement hung in the air until Renge disappeared into the crowd and Haruhi looked back down at her knees. "I knew it wasn't me, you know. I knew it wasn't going to last. That it was always going to be them. Takashi has always been end-game, for her. I've just been in the way. I'm a plot device."

"Haruhi."

"No, Kyo, I am. I mean, not that she was thinking that, or anything. I mean, we were happy, and we were in love, and I know she really meant it, every day we were together. But I—I think I was an important part of her learning how to love, and so maybe our relationship was necessary to her character development, you know? I suppose I should be happy about that."

"Haru—"

"I guess maybe I just didn't finish learning whatever it is I was supposed to learn from it. Or maybe I'm supposed to learn how to deal with a broken heart? I don't know."

"Haruhi, listen."

She closed her eyes and rested her chin on her knees, still looking straight ahead. "What is it?"

"Haru, life isn't literature. There isn't a plotline, there is no author using events to create character growth. Maybe there is something like a Fate, but I don't believe there is a discernable script. You learn what you learn, and you hurt when you hurt, and you are happy when you are happy. That is all." He leaned closer to her and brushed her hair behind her ear, whispering comfortingly. "You are not a plot device, Haruhi. You are a human being, and you are heartbroken because you haven't quite healed from an emotional wound when the other wounded party has healed up quite nicely. This is natural. You are allowed to be sad, love."

A half-smile appeared on her tear-streaked face. "Thanks. I'm not sure I believe you, but thanks."

There was a silence as she searched out his eyes.

"You're a good person, Kyoya. And a good friend," she said, and leaned into his embrace.

A few months later a wedding was being planned—Renge Houshakuji was joining the Morinozuka family. In the almost-year since their break up, the girls had settled into a soft friendship. Any other man would perhaps have been a bit suspicious at his fiancée's decision to appoint her ex-girlfriend as maid of honor, but Takashi had never been the jealous type. Besides, he was just as happy to have Haruhi as a part of the wedding party. He had seriously considered asking her to stand up for him, had Renge not.

At the official announcement party for the engagement (not to be confused with the actual engagement party, which would take place in a few weeks—these rich people sure know how to make excuses for parties), Haruhi once again entered on the arm of one Kyoya Ootori, as had become habit. The time since her last dip into heart-broken depression had been rather healing, and while she had a while to go before she would be completely over her, it is safe to say she was more happy for her friends than broken-hearted. Kyoya, however, was another story.

There was a look on his face, as he stood as far from the life of the party as possible, back against the wall, with a glass of water in hand. He had been looking into said glass when she started walking toward him, but by the time she got to his side, his eyes had wandered rather studiously toward…well, the life of the party (that is, one Tamaki Suoh, obviously).

She took his empty hand and leaned in to whisper conspiritoriously. "He's good at this. It's like watching an opera. He should rent himself out to keep up morale at parties."

She earned a small smirk—but the look was still there. "Whatcha thinking?"

He blinked a few times, and took a few relaxing breaths. "I'm not thinking, it seems. Why?"

"You look…wistful. I don't think I've seen that look on you before."

He shrugged, as professionally as possible.

Haruhi looked back over to their rather flamboyant Frenchman. "You should ask him out."

"What?"

"No, seriously. It would do him a world of good, he's very naïve about his own sexuality, I think. It would help if he dated a nice guy like you."

"Haruhi—"

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it, it's written all over your face."

"It's more complicated than that."

"You like him, right?"

He nodded, thoughtfully.

"Then what's the problem. He won't say no, I'm sure of it. And anyway, you've always been a risk taker. Rejection isn't a fear that normally beats you."

He sighed and leaned back into the wall. "My father would never approve."

And suddenly she was in front of him, glaring him down. "He doesn't own you, Kyoya."

Kyoya's face wilted, helplessly. "The free will never understand the shackled, I suppose."

She took his face in both hands and looked deep into his eyes. "Don't talk to me about shackled, Kyoya. You have never in your life had to worry if you didn't have enough money for something. You have never needed anything, you've never hoped you have enough at the end of the week to eat on Saturday. You've never hoped against all hope that your father didn't decide to buy something nice for you because you know you'll have to eat light for a few weeks. You've never had to depend on public transportation to get to work. That's a whole area of your life that's unshackled. I may not understand the power your family has over you, but don't tell me I don't understand shackles."

He nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Kyoya, he doesn't own you. He really doesn't—"

"He's a powerful man, Haruhi. He could take everything I have, he could blacklist me and I would never work again, possibly even out of the country. He could—"

"He could do that to anyone, idiot. It's not just you he has power over. The world isn't fair that way, people with that kind of money have control over the rest of us. Welcome to my world. But that doesn't mean you have to spend your life bowing to him."

He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. She was right, honestly. But a few decades of ingrained fear and unquestioning loyalty isn't something you can overcome in one speech from a friend. "Thank you for being honest, Haru. But I don't think I can do it. It's not just my father, you know. Yuzuru Suoh is a bit more forgiving than my father, but he still expects to keep up appearances. A bastard son is one thing, but I'm not sure if he'll allow a second scandal. Society will accept only one scandal at a time, you see. You can be a bastard, or you can be gay. You can't be both."

She nodded, a hopeless feeling settling into her stomach. She knew—absolutely and honestly—that her friends could be happy together. She was sure. And to see it end before it even began was horrible.

"Are you in love with him?"

Kyoya was silent for a long time. "I don't know. I think—I think I could be. There's certainly a potential there. It's not a helpless sensation, though. If I gave it a chance, it could grow into love, I suppose."

She leaned back against the wall, and they both watched as the object of their conversation flirted his way through Renge's entire extended family.

"I want to make him happy, though, if that counts."

"Kyoya, that's what love is," she said, smirking. "Idiot."

It had taken him two weeks to ask the man out, and after that it was a whirlwind of emotion and drama and an exceptional amount of giggling on Tamaki's part. Their relationship was kept, not "under wraps" so much as private, and while Yoshio never commented at all, Tamaki's father was surprisingly supportive. "My son," he had said, "people will hate you for this. But I won't let you make the same mistakes I did. You love who you love, and that's not ever a problem. If that Ootori boy makes you happy, I'm happy for you."

And that was that.

Haruhi was alone again, and it was good. She had settled into her new office at a small-but-growing law firm that paid a decent wage, bought a two-bedroom house, and somehow managed to stand for the entire 3-hour Houshakuji-Morinozuka wedding in heels—and dance at the reception (not in heels, thank god)!

Kyoya was happy, and he was her best friend, so she fed off his happiness.

To be completely honest, Kyoya was a mess. He was an absolute disaster. Tamaki had never been particularly stable (loyal to a fault, but not sane, as such), and while Kyoya preferred to be on solid ground, at the moment he was just enjoying the ride. They had always been a force to be reckoned with, almost a perfect team—one with the dreams of a prophet and the other with management skills to pull off miracles. They could do anything, and if Tamaki had any say it it, they would. And Kyoya would never disappoint him. He would keep up with him as long as he could.

The former host club (and company) met, as they did occasionally, for dinner one night in late December. The restaurant, while classy, was rather loud, and so the noise coming from the more rambunctious members of the group was drowned out by the crowd. Haruhi had gotten up to ask a question of one of the staff, and when she came back, Kaoru was sitting in the seat she had vacated (for some reason seats changed often when the host club got together. Haruhi's theory was that, while they all wanted to converse with each of the others, they didn't want the frustration of shouting over the rather long table, so they just moved around a lot.). He was rather dejectedly swirling a glass of wine, but, in typical Kaoru fashion, he was doing so in the subtlest way possible.

"What's wrong, Kaoru?" she asked, sitting beside him. "You look like you've just remembered something you've been trying to forget."

He looked up at her and smiled, as well as he could. "Something like that. It's not a big deal, I've just realized something about myself, and it's too late to do anything about it. I'll be fine, though, give me a week or so. Or another drink," he winked.

She sighed. "If you don't want to talk to me about it, you should talk to your brother."

He shook his head, thoughtfully. "No, I can't. It's not his problem. I need to deal with this myself," he turned back to her and smiled again. "Thanks for the concern, though, Haruhi. But don't worry about me, okay? I'll be fine."

It took her the course of the evening to figure it out, but she did. The look on his face, and the way his eyes kept drifting to the ever-talking, ever-grinning, constant center of attention might have been subtle, but they were still tell-tale. And she'd seen similar behavior in Kyoya a few months previously.

As they were leaving the restaurant, she grabbed his arm before he could duck into his car. "It's him, isn't it? It's Tamaki."

He sighed. "That idiot is gorgeous, you know that? And amazing. I wish I wasn't such a sucker for idiots with hearts of gold. I kind of hate him for it."

She raised one eyebrow.

"Okay, that's a lie. I hate myself for it. He's obviously happy, and I'm obviously a terrible friend for wishing Kyoya wasn't such a perfect match for him. Part of me hopes it doesn't last, but-"

"But he's happy, and that's what you want."
"Yeah."

"But you don't just want him to be happy—you want to be the one making him happy, right?"

Kaoru looked up at her and smiled, softly, and truly. "Yeah. Exactly. But hey, I guess if I get half my wish, it's better than nothing, right?"

She nodded. "Trust me, it gets better."

A short laugh escaped his lips. "I can't believe you managed to stand up at her wedding. I don't think I could do it."

"You might have to."

They both sighed, smiled encouragingly at one another, and Kaoru took the final step into the car waiting for him. "Hey," he said, rolling the window down. "You need a ride?"

Kyoya dated Tamaki for a year and three months before the break up. It wasn't heart-wrenching, and (surprisingly) it wasn't dramatic. There was a quiet finality of their last date, and a conversation in which Tamaki accepted, rather maturely, that he was on a different path than his beloved. Kyoya hadn't quite given up loving him, but he had given up the idea that it would last much longer, and felt that holding on was only going to make it worse. He was tired—Tamaki was a bit of a rollercoaster, and Kyoya had never been one to enjoy adrenaline. They were both sick over it, but it was time for a new season, in both of their lives.

To be honest, both of them were just happy it had ended so peacefully.

It took Tamaki a good couple of months to get back into the grove of singleness, and then, of course, he was never entirely single. Haruhi found herself holding Kyoya's hand through many, many charity events, and reminding him of what he had told her when she was going through a similar situation. Similar, but not the same. Tamaki was in full-on bachelor mode, so there was no wedding, not yet anyhow.

Kyoya first noticed the look on Kaoru's face at a birthday party the twins threw themselves. To his surprise, he was not angry, or injured. He was happy. If Kaoru could get the guts up to ask Tamaki out, they would both be happy.

And there was something about the situation—something about the way they had always worked together—Kyoya just knew this was the right thing. Those two were supposed to be together. He knew, then, what Haruhi had felt, watching Renge giggle up at the love of her life. He knew he was a—well, a detour, he supposed—in the story of Tamaki.

Before he went to talk Kaoru into asking Tamaki out, he stopped to talk to his best friend.

"Haruhi," he whispered, "did you know?" and he gestured toward Kaoru with his chin. She smiled and took in the lovesick look on her former classmate's face. "Yeah. Poor guy. He figured it out when he was taken, and he's been trying to figure out how to be okay with it ever since. I don't think it's occurred to him that Tamaki is single, though."

Kyoya nodded. "I was just going to go talk to him."

She reached out to stop him as he pushed off the wall to do so, and pulled him around to face her. "Are you sure? Are you going to be alright with this?"

He smiled, a true, sunny smile. "This is it, for them, Haru. It really is. I really think—I know what you meant, about being a, what did you say? A plot device? But I'm not upset, at least I don't think I am. I've had more time than you had. I'm just happy that Tamaki will be happy. And that two of my friends have found each other in a way they hadn't."

"They haven't yet, Kyo."

"Oh, don't worry. They will."

She took both of his hands before he could leave. "I think you should talk to Tamaki instead."

He cocked his head to the side and tried to read her eyes before asking, "Why?"

"Because Tamaki's an idiot, and he's going to want to know you're okay. And because you love him—perhaps not romantically, anymore, but he's still a big part of your life. He needs to hear that, from you. More than Kaoru does."

Kyoya took a second to internalize the information, and nodded.

He called Tamaki the next day and met him at a coffee shop in the early afternoon.

"Kyoya!" the Frenchman called, bringing his exceptionally fruity non-coffee beverage to the table, "I'm so glad to see you! I know I just saw you yesterday, and you probably have some important reason for calling me out here, since you don't ever call meetings for fun, but it's still nice! How are you?!"

Kyoya took a sip of his Americano and smiled. "I asked you here to talk about you and your flirting. It has to stop."

Tamaki blinked. "Kyoya? You're not—you're not jealous, are you? I thought—"

"Idiot," Kyoya grinned, "Not me. There's someone else whose attention you've caught, and not just anyone. And trust me, Tamaki, this is the one, alright? Don't be stupid. You need to call him, as soon as you're done with…whatever that is—"

"It's a mango pomegranate smoothie! It's even got flax in it, which I think is healthy for you, something about fiber! Wait, who is this I have to call? And why are you so concerned with him?"

"Because, idiot, he's in love with you, and you would be stupid to not let yourself love him back."

Tamaki sobered quickly.

"It's Kaoru, Tamaki. Or hadn't you noticed?"

The shocked look spreading from Tamaki's face to the rest of his body language spoke the volumes that he was apparently incapable of speaking himself. "I—I hadn't—Kao-Oh!" he stuttered, his face turning almost the exact shade of deep pink as his smoothie. "But! How? Why?"

"Don't be stupid. You're a sweet, attractive guy, Tamaki. And Kaoru is a good, stable man, who has spent all of his existence with someone just as loud, and much more mischievous than you. He's up for it, more than I was. You're a handful, that's for sure, but Kaoru can handle it."

And suddenly Tamaki was a soft, pink, nervous wreck. "But I can't call him, not like this! What am I going to say, 'Oh, I hear you're in love with me, want to go out?' That's ridiculous! I can't do that!"

Kyoya shook his head. He'd known he was right. Tamaki had never been nervous before, not about romance. He was the expert! "Tamaki, stop fidgeting. You're a catch, remember? He's not going to reject you. Just call him, and ask him if he wants to get dinner, and then when he inevitably gets shy, specify that you're asking him out on a date and tell him you'll pick him up at seven tomorrow."

Tamaki looked up at him with both hope and confusion in his eyes. Kyoya stood, threw back the last of his coffee, and smiled down at his friend. "I made you reservations yesterday, under your name. At that one new restaurant your father just bought downtown."

Tamaki's smile seemed to banish the last of the nervousness and he was back to his old, dramatic self. "Oh, Kyoya, you're so thoughtful! Such a good friend! I will call him at once!"

"See that you do. I have a meeting in 20 minutes, so I'll be leaving now. Good luck, Tamaki."

There was a look shared between them, a quiet understanding—this was the beginning of a new era for their friendship. Everything was going to be fine.

It took Tamaki three weeks and two days to know that Kaoru was the love of his life. It was a full year until they got married, but that was mostly because Hikaru went into obsessive wedding-planner mode, and nothing could please him.

Kyoya did, of course, stand up with Tamaki.

And for a few months, everything was calm again. Everyone's lives had settled down—Mitsukuni had married and was happily training the now three Morinozuka children in martial arts (and possibly giving them more sweets than their mother would allow if she knew). Renge had self-published her own manga and was working on starting up a publishing firm. Hikaru, while not planning his brother's wedding, was busy building up a photography business, and hadn't the slightest intention of settling down anytime soon.

And while Haruhi settled into her newest promotion, Kyoya had an idea.

"I want to start a law firm."

Haruhi looked at him across the coffee shop table and blinked. "What?"

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, I've done the research. And you were right, about my father. He may not own me, but, right now, he does sort of employ me. And I'd like to break free from that. And, watching your career, I've learned a lot about the legal system. I'd much rather manage something my father has no interest in acquiring, if that makes sense. It will be a clean break. Independence."

"Kyoya, I'm happy for you, but…are you sure? It's going to be a lot of work, and establishing a new firm is risky. Do you have a list of people you'd like to talk to about helping establish it? I mean, you're not a lawyer, so you'd have to hire out—"

"I want to hire you."

"What?!"

"You're the best in the business, Haruhi. I checked. I did all the research. Here, these are the others I'd like to talk to. Obviously, I haven't started talking to them yet, so I can't confirm their inclusion in the project, but note that I've done my homework."

She glanced over the file he handed her, and nodded. The names were all familiar—and surprisingly, all steady, good lawyers she'd worked with before. None of them were hot-shots, and most of them would jump at the chance to start in a new firm backed by an Ootori. "You have. You're serious, aren't you?"

"Completely."

She smiled. "When would you like to start? I can give my two weeks whenever, just let me know so—"

"Is tomorrow enough time for you? I'd like to get started right away, and I'd like you to be a part of the foundational processes. I want this to be your firm, Haruhi. I just want to manage it."

She smiled. "What, Ootori, Fujioka, and associates?"

He smiled back softly and handed her another file, this one marked on the outside, in official-looking letters: Fujioka and Associates.

She looked up at him, grinning. "We've got a lot of work to do."

It took a record-breaking three years for their firm to become a respected part of the legal landscape. Haruhi treated it like her own child, and her partners like family. Kyoya took lunch with her every workday (and some weekends, but that doesn't count) to keep the flow of communication from management to the trenches open. In their fourth year as a firm, they made national headlines, suing a major magazine for plagiarism on behalf of Hitachiin Photography. When the paper came in that Monday, Haruhi decided that lunch wouldn't come quick enough, and she stormed into Kyoya's office, cheeks flushed and eyes blazing, holding the paper high.

"Did you see it?!" she yelled, bouncing around the monstrosity of a desk he sat behind. "Did you see the headlines?!"

Kyoya looked up from the crossword puzzle and, for a moment, had a bit of an out-of-body experience.

He should have been celebrating with her, he should have been bouncing around the office as well. But he wasn't. He was just staring at her. In truth, it was as if he was seeing her for the first time. All these years, all this time, and he hadn't seen her. He hadn't even seen it coming.

This was it. She was it.

Shit, he thought. What am I going to say?

But he didn't say anything. He took the paper from her and he smiled, and he got up and hugged her, and he went about his day.

It took Kyoya fifteen years from the day he met her to realize that she was the love of his life, and once he realized, it took him three and a half days to tell her.

"Haruhi," he said, over lunch on Thursday. "I have something to say."

She was still riding the high of the win, and the headlines, but he sounded serious, so she sobered up a bit. "Sure, Kyo. What's up?"

He set down his chopsticks and looked at her, a smile growing from somewhere inside of him. "It's you."

She raised an eyebrow. "What's me?"

"I didn't realize it, you see. It took me this long. But it's you, Haru. It's always been you. All this time. I didn't even see it."

Something in his tone hit her in her gut, something she recognized. "What? I—you what? I don't understand."

"Of course you do, Haruhi," he said, still smiling, and beginning to eat again. "It's just that you're the love of my life. Did you not realize either?"

There was evidence of shock in her eyes, but not for long. A soft smile showed itself, and then a grin. "Oh! I guess I hadn't. But, come to think of it, maybe I had."

And suddenly she remembered the time she had been a detour in someone else's love story-and the time he had been, too. Except this time, when she remembered, it was different. This time, they weren't the detours-Renge and Tamaki were. This time, she saw her own story, their own story, and the path that had brought them together.

In amused awe, she whispered, "It was always you, wasn't it?"