Damage limitation; it was all down to that now. There was no way the photos could be explained away as nothing so Miss Lans had two options. Either she could do things Tamaki's way and let the rumors escalate through the media leaving people under the impression that he had reached his place in the spotlight through pornography, or she could do the best she could to patch things up by claiming that the two young men had been dating during high school and that the photographs were never intended for public viewing.

Neither option was ideal, but the second plan was the best they could do. Tamaki had been adamant that they should leave Kyouya's reputation uncontaminated at all costs but it was a bit late for that to be possible. Tamaki may have been seen as a little bit too flamboyant and out there, but dating him would be more respectable than posing like that for money. The only problem was that there was very little evidence and there was no way she could spread the rumor that the two had been in a relationship without Tamaki's cooperation; even then there was no guarantee it would work.

On the other hand she had never been unable to persuade Tamaki of something before and she doubted this would be an exception. She slipped a hand into the side pocket of her shoulder bag, fumbling for her blackberry but it was empty; she realized at once that it must still be sitting on the table in Tamaki's flat.

XXXXXXXXXX

Tamaki felt the car stop smoothly, the engines fell silent and for a moment he sat perfectly still, on edge, unsure of what would happen next. Then there was a soft thunk as the driver's door opened, he could feel the car shift slightly as she stepped outside. Her footsteps were heavy and solid; he envisaged thick soled military boots. His door swung open and climbed out, feeling light headed as he stood. Their surroundings were not much of a comfort; the gloomy grey concrete of an underground car park stretched out around them in all directions, deserted. It was cold and smelled of damp, with no natural light to give any indication of the outside world.

The face of his guard was completely devoid of emotion in an off-putting professional coldness. Her hair was in a tight bun which looked out of place with her square jaw and thick neck. She was large in a muscular sense and although Tamaki was athletic from his dancing, the sheer bulk of the woman was intimidating. Girls like this never turned up at the host club, this wasn't a woman who would swoon at Tamaki's words or smile. She was clearly capable of standing up for herself and Tamaki gave up on the idea of attempting escape all together.

Tamaki was shaking slightly, and not just with the underground chill. His breathing was a little too fast and his fingers struggled as he tied the red silken fabric over his own eyes as requested. "I'm sorry sir, but it is an important security measure" the excuse had been spoken in the same dry monotone, as if her words had been scripted. "Hik! is a leading gossip magazine, Sir, it cannot risk sharing leads with competitors."

Tamaki nodded understanding with as much authority as he could whilst blindfolded and trembling. In the distance he could hear damp dripping onto the concrete floor, the "plip, plip, plip" noise seemed to echo louder and louder. He felt trapped as if he could sense the tones of concrete above him, pressing down, separating them from the freedom and fresh air and daylight.

She began to lead him away from the car in silence, his hand on one arm as if he were accompanying her. He clenched his jaw, trying to stop his teeth chattering. He wondered what Kyouya would think if he saw him now.

Kyouya.

After a short walk, he felt them entering a lift. The comforting warm light from within filtered through the blindfold, allowing Tamaki to relax slightly. Some of the anxiousness remained though and Tamaki was pretty sure that they were probably not due to the possibility that he was being kidnapped. He had hoped that after all these years he would be too grown up to still get butterflies, but seemingly Kyouya Ottori still had the power to do such things to him. Not that Kyouya was aware of this of course.

XXXXXXXXX

Kyouya felt oddly relaxed as he felt the blindfold tighten, pressing the frames of his glasses into his face, the large, course hands of the burly male guard yanking at the silk. This wasn't a business meeting, he was sure of that now, but if he was being kidnapped then at least he could stop blaming himself for whatever was about to happen. Regardless of the intentions of whoever was in control, it was calming to think that his fate was somebody else's responsibility for now.

He felt a hand on his shoulder as the guard propelled him forwards. He soon gave up on trying to keep some sense of direction; only a dim perception of light or dark could filter through the layers of folded red silk. After ascending in what was presumably a lift, they seemed to pass along corridor after corridor, the occasional sound of muffled discussion or the whirring of computers coming from either side suggesting that indeed this might be an office block of some kind, but that didn't balance out the many small, bizarre aspects of the situation which weren't quite consistent with the story he had chosen to believe on the phone.

The blindfolds were ominous; anyone wishing to hold him hostage for the sake of money or in order to gain an interesting news story would surely have used something a little less suggestive than red silk… Perhaps his kidnapper was simply trying to confuse him? No, that could only be wishful thinking; Kyouya was beautiful, he knew that, and he also knew that being wanted by millions came with a price.

Why had he bought their story? It was more than a lust for adventure; Kyouya was young but had always been rational, he took after his father more than he cared to admit. He knew that his actions would only exacerbate the scandal, and that was something his company could do without. He was a ruthless businessman but the thought of people somewhere beneath him loosing their jobs and livelihoods because of something so stupid and childish of him made something suspiciously akin to guilt twinge inside him. So why was he doing something that almost rivaled Tamaki's level of stupidity? Because, he admitted dejectedly, the thought that out there billions of people would believe that he his old friend had been a little more than that was as close as he was ever going to get to it being a reality. If only he could believe what he read in the news.

Impossible fantasies; there wasn't room for fairytales in Kyouya's line of work. Roses and dances and moonlight were all very well but the host club girls were never worth more than the dresses they paraded. It was amazing what dreams could come true with enough money, but the happy endings would always be paper thin. They should have been left behind with the girls of the host club, in that virtual world where love was something that could be bought or sold.

The guard changed direction and Kyouya turned with him, trying to keep upright and to appear to be in control despite being disorientated by his lack of sight. The footsteps echoed differently here, suggesting a larger room with a higher ceiling. They halted as the guard removed his hand from Kyouya's shoulder and grabbed the blindfold by the knot, pulling it off smoothly then stepping backwards wordlessly.

For a few moments all he could see was the dazzling bright whiteness, and then his eyes began to focus again, he pushed his glasses back into their normal position as he began to make out other shapes in the haze. As he had expected they were no longer in a corridor but a spacious hall, a large concrete staircase descended along three of the walls from the floor above and it was painted white to match the walls giving the room a feeling of cleanliness and openness which didn't at all fit with Kyouya's preconceptions of what it would be like to be kidnapped. At the same time too much attention seemed to have been paid to the design or it to be a conventional office building; this room would have belonged more in an art gallery than an office block.

Indeed at its centre stood a faceless white mannequin, modeling an elaborate formal dress. Its long skirts trailing over the floor around it, colour texture and pattern merging together in places and complementing each other in others. Kyouya couldn't describe why but something in the design reminded him of the host club's extensive costume cupboard, albeit this dress was far more refined. In the snow white room the ruffles and layers and that deep green-blue stood out like a peacock, but at the same time it exuded an elegance and depth that could make you almost fall in love with the object its self.

Kyouya was suddenly worried about his own appearance; Tamaki's life and friends were surely far more interesting than he was; Tamaki was renowned for his exciting lifestyle after all. Kyouya was sure he looked older, and whilst his suits were all well tailored they were plain and designed to make him look respectable not flamboyant. Still Kyouya expected he was probably too plain a person to captivate Tamaki's interests anyway, that wasn't something that could be easily changed.

There we are at last; the penultimate chapter. I hope you haven't been too inconvenienced by the delay with this one but reality looms as always and I really shouldn't be spending my limited time on this… never mind I don't like to leave things unfinished. And as a special Christmas treat (merry Christmas by the way and a happy new year) anyone who can guess correctly (or at least mostly correctly) what the conclusion of the next chapter will be shall be granted a one chapter request story after this has been finished. So leave your hypothesis in the reviews section along with any constructive criticism you have to offer and you may be lucky. Thank you for reading and enjoy the holidays if you have them!