Behind Glasses
Kyouya
Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. If I did, Kyouya would be trapped inside my closet 24/7.
Warning: Some angst and mentions of abuse.
Disclaimer: I wanted to write something with Kyouya after I saw some clips on Youtube from that episode with how Kyouya and Tamaki met. You can take the ending as friendship or as slash. Your choice. I am very proud of this one.
His life was so empty. Bare routines. The same things, over and over again. It was duties. His whole life was duties. It was expected of him to be successful, to be the best in his class, to smile and act happy.
He smiled on the outside, but he was screaming on the inside. Every night, when he went to bed, when he was allowed to breathe, he let the tears fall down his face. He was longing for someone to touch him, to hold him, to care for him. He was longing to live.
They expected a lot from him. His father always told him that he needed to be the best, that he needed to be number one. He didn't need anything. If he had been able to decide, he would have been in the bottom of the class, just to piss his father off, just to feel alive. Just to feel something out of the ordinary.
He was so god damn sick of this numbness, of these routines, these duties. He messed up his room just to feel something. And when he was home alone, he screamed. He turned up the volume of the stereo and screamed. He screamed his lungs out. He lived for those moments.
They had all those expectations. It was clear that he should take over the family business one day, along with his brothers. He knew that. He was already sick of the thought. The future only meant more duties, more numbness, more routines and more expectations, which meant more afternoons where he had to turn up the volume.
He had to be chosen. He had to be the heir. He had to become something. He wanted people to say nice things about him. He didn't want to be 'the third son'. He wanted to be Ootori Kyouya. People should respect him. He wanted something to live for.
He had to do those duties, he knew that. If he didn't, his father would throw him out of the family, he knew that. And since he had nowhere else to go, he did was what expected of him. He fulfilled his duties.
He had thoughts of running away too. But if his father found him, he would be dead. His father could hit hard. And since his father was the head of the police, and had people all over Japan, it wasn't such a good idea. And again, he had nowhere to go.
This numbness. He couldn't get rid of it. Only when he screamed. It was the only thing that could make him feel something. It was a relief to let out your frustrations. But most of the time, he was numb.
He had lost his mother in the age of six. He could remember her face clearly. He remembered the way her hair fell down her back, her perfume, and the gentle touches. She loved to paint, and he remembered her happy face every time his dad had bought her new art supplies. Back then, his father smiled. He didn't hit Kyouya either, that began after his mom's death. He remembered the funeral and her pale, calm face. They had given her a wig on, to hide that she'd lost her hair from the chemotherapy.
There was one picture she didn't finish, and it was in his room. It hang on the opposite wall of his bed. He looked at it every night before he fell asleep. One day, he decided to finish it. He found his mom's old art supplies in a closet somewhere and when he started to paint, he felt alive.
From that day, he painted as much as he could. He always carried around a notebook, that was filled with ideas, drawing and notes to himself.
Soon after he met Tamaki. And as he took his hand, he felt alive.
A/N: Review. Please?