The two boys filled the next day with as many things as they could; mainly to keep their troubled minds occupied. They ventured off towards the beach once more to take pictures, explore the beach, and at night, set off fireworks. Most of which were done at the suggestion of Tamaki, naturally.

The sun had already set, but they hopefully assumed that they had until the following afternoon when Kyouya would be sent away.

After lighting a few sparklers, both boys sat down on the sand together; merely being.

At the now darkened seaside, Kyouya brought along his journal, which he scratched in every so often. Due to his exhaustion, he only etched in a few words at a time, and then closed the book again.

Tamaki watched, as he opened his book once more and wrote, "Who's running? I'm not running…" Twice, he wrote that same sentence. The blue-eyed boy wondered if Kyouya even sensed that he had a spy reading this new entry of his journal. Though at that point, he doubted that the mournful Kyouya even cared.

There was a thoughtful pause, then momentarily, Kyouya scribbled a new sentence. "It's me and Tamaki both; both unaccepted by our families, along with the rest of society. We're just…" As he wrote, his words became more illegible, as if his hand couldn't take the stress.

Kyouya stared blankly at the paper. Abruptly, without warning, he shot up from the sandy ground to toss his cherished journal into the ocean.

Completely taken aback, the blond man observed as it sailed through the air, to finally land yards away with a small splash in the water. To Kyouya's surprise, Tamaki bolted across the sand, jumped in the water, and retrieved the pathetic, soggy notebook.

"What the heck were you think-?" Kyouya's shout was stopped short, as Tamaki scooped more ocean water to splash Kyouya with it.

"Moron! If you're going to toss this, let me keep it!" Clonk! The book was slapped firmly against the top of Kyouya's already soaked head.

The glasses-clad boy spluttered from the salty, bitter ocean water, attempting to fan his wet clothes dry. "That book… is garbage." His trailing voice lowered in disgust. "Those words are of fear and uncertainty. If I were to make a next book, then… Well…"

Tamaki waited for no further gloomy comments from his partner. He spoke with confidence, "We're not running, that's for sure." Cold and soaked, he jumped towards Kyouya for comfort, only to shove him over on his back; Tamaki laying flat across his front. "Just suck it up."

There was a moment of silence, awkwardness, and sensitivity. Tamaki could only watch Kyouya's shocked expression staring up at him, causing Tamaki to chuckle. "You afraid? I'm not afraid!"

"Tamaki, get off me." Squirming, the clearly discomforted Kyouya demanded, "You're cold, heavy, and-"

"And what?"

"And…" As the negativity melted, a smiled graced the lips of Kyouya Ootori. "Not affected by my moodiness. Isn't that right?"

Tamaki laughed hard in Kyouya's face. "Darn straight." Instead of releasing the other man, Tamaki settled into the body, before dreamily stating, "We'd better get cracking if we only have a few hours left together. Right?"

"Get… cracking?" Keep your eyes on his, don't get adventurous, don't move, don't move your hands, just keep your eyes on…

As he giggled, the shorter man at last heaved his cold, wet body off Kyouya's. "Pretending to be the naïve one, I see how it is, my dear! Can't fool me!"

Quickly, the taller man changed the subject before any further suggestiveness ensued. "Let's get inside and get changed."

"Sounds good to me, my darling!" Tamaki helped straighten Kyouya's disheveled glasses and hair, before they both collected their things to head back inside.

Attempting to speed the drying process, Tamaki, all the while, flipped the soggy pages of Kyouya's journal. "Should we take a dip in the hot springs one last time?"

"It doesn't matter to me."

"Goodness, you're so cold towards me! I was hoping for you to say something like, 'Of course, darling. Whatever you want shall be yours, because I love you.'"

"I love you."

As if shot frozen to the ground, Tamaki stopped. Embarrassed, Kyouya kept on walking, perhaps inwardly hoping that Tamaki would not make any comments on the sudden honest remark.

Kyouya kept his eyes on the ground beneath him and paced himself, until Tamaki was eventually re-acquainted with the ground. Carefully glancing at his lover's face, Kyouya saw that beautiful, peaceful smile glowing across his face.

I made him smile… I guess, maybe, it was worth it…? I really… like to see him smile, I suppose. I like making him happy.

Kyouya's thoughts were briefly interrupted by a small, slender hand sliding in his own. Gripping that hand more tightly, he made the conclusion…

I guess… that's what I'm really living for.

As they walked side-by-side at last, Tamaki handed Kyouya his journal back and explained, "Finish writing in this book. You have a few pages left, then I'll take this burden of a journal off your hands. Okay?"