What Mori Sees, Valentine || OHSHC
One of the crumpled papers that Kyoya swept away from Mori's writing space, unread.
Host Club Love
I.
So much beauty in this room.
Rose petals fly, cherry blossoms fall.
Peals of high-pitched laughter
Delight our visitors.
So few know how dangerous
The laughing sprite who wriggles in their laps
Can be.
I watch my cousin carefully.
Mitsukuni
The human weapon, in this room, carefree.
To the right,
Deep russet hair glints in tandem
In lantern light.
Clients happy just to watch.
Our King, graceful, grateful,
Makes another theatrical tousled blonde bow
To his newest princesses.
For each a rose, almost identical.
The perfect swooning suitor.
His passionate play is for another,
But the sighing, sated group of girls
Never know.
Of all the hosts, I wonder if mine
Is the only heart that breaks for them.
Behind him, the devilish redheads twine.
An act?
An act that, once tasted
Proved too sweet to relinquish?
Or reality all along?
Synchronized, they move to their own time.
The love no act, this much is true.
Does the answer really matter?
Unhidden, the bold new host
In loaned clothes over slight but oh! so strong a frame
Glances from under her jagged hair
Eyelashes expressive as butterflies in flight
To ask if the ladies would care for more tea with their dreams.
The shyest feel safe with me,
and are.
They will never see me flinch or wince
At their familiarity with my limbs, my chest.
Wordlessly I flex mid-caress
To hear the rustle of a dress.
I am whatever their imagination paints,
The difference is clear.
No promises are offered here.
ll.
In the golden lantern glow
My eyes, half-closed,
Regard the fragile cracks
In Kyoya's mask.
No sales-pitch, no welcome in?
The porcelain perfection drops
From his skin,
All unknowing,
Our harrowed Shadow King.
We share so much silence, he and I,
The light on me dappled, flickering, despite my stillness
While he
In the unforgiving light of laptop
spills his secrets
A glint of white where his soul lies
The antic stare behind his eyes.
Down, and around I look
He marks more within his book
Fingers more graceful
More forceful
Than those girl's that grip my thigh.
lll.
Haruhi, harsh and kind.
Honey, who in this moment, at least,
Loves a lake of dress-laden hips and the hands which
Feed him cake.
His brother a memory perhaps,
I am not here to judge a lapse.
Hikaru and Kaoru seem to, but do not
Share one mind.
I wait.
Who will be the first to break?
Swimming up from an embrace, will the brothers
See another's face?
Will the ever-fragile King
Not just watch
But see
When Haruhi's gaze takes flight,
And alights on someone other than himself?
Shadow King, already made of fractures,
Cool that covers fright,
Do sums and figures give solace in your night?
Can you add enough, plan enough, employ that scheming art
To contain the screaming in your heart?
Host Club.
I knew my place since the lie was begun.
Pick up the many pieces when it's done.