"Tamaki, are you aware that you've been staring at me for the past hour now?"

"You noticed."

Of course he did. It was hardly like the blond was being subtle. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kyoya tried to smother the temptation to introduce his head to the nearest convenient wall. Which wouldn't be sensible, as it already killed. But then again he might knock himself out, which would save him listening to Tamaki's ramblings.

"Do you have any specific reason for pulling me into this classroom? You're not planning to kill me, are you?"

"Not today." Tamaki assured, in good humour.

"Good. That would be inconvenient to work around my schedule."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." Tamaki leant elegantly against the wall Kyoya had been eyeing up three seconds ago, talking animatedly. Some grand spiel about his detective skills, complete with the occasional dramatic flourish. Kyoya didn't care to pay attention, but he did catch onto the fact that Tamaki had planned this.

The sun hit his hair at the exact angle needed to make it shine. This same technique had been used yesterday, to charm some frivolous-minded girls. Any minute now he was going to look up and flash that Host smile of his.

Ah, yes. There it was.

Kyoya's fingers itched to lob his notebook at the boy's face.

"Hold on a second, are you even listening to me?"

"Well, I hear you talking."

He received a playful shove and a laugh in reply, before they dissolved into uncomfortable silence. Mostly because Tamaki was staring pointedly at him again. He was certain the blond hadn't even blinked.

"Tamaki, if you've got something to say, then spit it out already."

"It's just..." Blue eyes hazed with concern, Tamaki stooped into Kyoya's personal bubble, his thumb resting thoughtfully against his chin. "You don't look so good today. Is everything okay?"

Great.

If Tamaki had noticed, Haruhi would as well. She was already adamant about forcing him to eat breakfast with her, actively showing concern for him would be the final nail in the coffin. And there was Tamaki, gazing up at him so pitifully. He looked like a puppy, Kyoya decided. A rather overgrown, annoying, clumsy one, but a puppy nonetheless. Head cocked to the side, he awaited Kyoya's answer.

Yes, that was it.

He was doing it again; using those puppy dog eyes.

Damn him.

They would, one day, be the death of him.

"I just had a bad night's sleep, I'm sure I'll survive." He didn't mention the steadily growing ache in his head.

"Were you up late working again?" Tamaki's expression turned severe. "Didn't I tell you to stop doing that? It always puts you in a bad mood. And you know, I read somewhere that you're more likely to have nightmares if you do that—"

Kyoya could almost taste the sea-salt breeze, as though it were all yesterday, and he was seeing her falling;

falling,

falling.

Unable to do anything to stop it. The nightmare- dream. Dream. It was a dream. A horrible one, but a dream all the same. Nightmare suggested it had power over him and he was not a prisoner to his own subconscious.

The dream had been unsettling, to say the least. Seeing a montage of days he thought he'd put behind him, the in-the-moment panic that fuelled him to hurl himself off a cliff, the way the water stung at his eyes, already blurry from his impaired vision, useless without his frames. More of a problem than a help, useless, useless, useless.

Then came the waves, breeching over his head, and he was sinking, clawing fruitlessly at the water, choking—

Drowning.

He woke in a cold sweat, in his room, utterly alone.

"—Honestly, you're going to end up working yourself to death one day!"

While Tamaki paused his rant to breathe, Kyoya effortlessly cut in. "Do quit your fussing, Tamaki, it's bothersome. I merely lost track of time, it's hardly like it was deliberate."

His eyes throbbed, as though calling him out on the lie.

Tamaki softened, with exasperation that was far too fond to carry any real weight. "You could use a break. You're always working so hard."

"One of us has to," He poked a finger against Tamaki's forehead. "You're always too busy messing around, sometimes I wonder if you actually have a brain in that head of yours."

Tamaki pouted, following at his side as they navigated the halls.

And then, he gasped.

Kyoya couldn't really see what part of their conversation required gasping, and yet, here they were.

"Kyoya! Listen, I've just had the most brilliant idea!" The bespectacled boy touched his temple with a grimace, stumbling into his friend as an arm was slung around his shoulders. At this point, Tamaki's enthusiasm could be considered an assault in itself. "We should hold a study session!"

"I highly doubt that'll be popular with the others. And I can't really say that'd I'd blame them."

If the blond had puppy ears, they would be drooping down. "Oh, please, Kyoya? For me?"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" He asked, innocently. Kyoya had a sinking suspicion that he was being played. But surely Tamaki couldn't be that smart... Who was he kidding, seventeen years of age and Tamaki still resorted to puppy-dog-eyes to get his own way. Manipulation came easy to him.

"You think whenever you say please, for me, I'll do whatever you want. Not this time."

Tamaki's gaze turned liquid-pleading. "Please, for me?"

"Okay." Goddamnit. "Didn't you just tell me to stop working? This is hardly reinforcing your case."

He was almost choked when the excitable blond came to a sudden halt. "Well, I know you won't listen, so this is the next best thing. How about this, we'll all gather at Haruhi's house this weekend to study. I know those three have tests coming up, so it's what the commoners would call a win-win for everyone! I can help my darling daughter, and keep an eye on you at the same time. Aren't I wonderful?"

Kyoya disentangled himself with little difficulty. "Yes, yes. The saviour of us all, an ethereal being of some mystical, higher power, so on so forth." With a smile, he beckoned over his sulking friend. "Hurry up, will you? I'm starving."

"Coming! We can tell the others all about my fantastic plan, too."

"I'm sure they'll be thrilled."

Spoiler: they weren't.

"Huh?" Hikaru and Kaoru intoned, confused. They glanced at each other, before the elder twin continued. "Boss, you want us to have a study session?"

Tamaki nodded, gesticulating dramatically with his spoon. "Yes! The both of you and my precious daughter have exams soon. It's only natural for me, as your King, to aid my loyal underlyings."

"I don't know much about being under you, but those exams aren't actually that big of a deal." Kaoru said. Amber eyes shifted to the left, onto Haruhi. "Well, for us."

They were met with pure apathy from the petite brunette.

"Revising together would be pointless." Hikaru said.

"Not to mention boring." Kaoru added, flicking a rolled up chunk of his napkin away, where it conveniently bounced off Tamaki's head.

"We'll pass." They decided, in perfect unison.

Tamaki deflated much like a popped balloon, mumbling darkly into his lunch. Kyoya pointedly ignored him. Mostly because his vision had fizzled black at the edges, sounds muted to almost nothing. He braced his elbows against the table, hands cupping his cheeks, breathing slow and even.

From the muffled din, the others had continued their conversation, utterly oblivious to his mounting distress.

Stomach rolling, he eyed his untouched lunch. Poking dubiously at it, he made the mistake of immediately catching eyes with Haruhi. She had been dragged to the cafeteria by the twins, quite unwillingly, and now sat quietly eating her bento. Or, more accurately, staring at him.

She'd definitely noticed.

So, while the others were distracted by Tamaki's guilt trip, he pulled out his phone and began typing under the table.

Kyoya: I'm not an art exhibit, stop staring. I'm fine.

Her brows furrowed as she read the message.

Haruhi: You look terrible. You didn't sleep well last night, did you?

He shrugged, well enough for her to see, and returned to pushing his food around his plate.

She followed suit, clearly displeased.

Meanwhile, Tamaki was still babbling on. "It's the perfect chance to bond as a family!" He insisted, almost taking Honey's eye out with his spoon.

"And where do you suggest we hold this, Boss?" Hikaru's patience for Tamaki's eccentrics was clearing running thin.

"Yeah, Tama-chan. Where?"

"Haruhi's apartment, of course." He declared, grandly. "It's small enough that it will give the experience a cosy, loving atmosphere! And of course this would save Haruhi from going out of her way to get to ours— public transport, while quaint, is far too dangerous for a young lady such as herself to use alone!"

"Boss, you're just saying that because you almost fell between the train and the platform." Hikaru snickered, beaning Tamaki straight in the head once again.

Kyoya lazily flicked a stray wad aside, wondering how much longer Tamaki's patience would last. He would've joined in the teasing, if it hadn't felt like there was a corkscrew drilling into his head.

"What kind of idiot steps right off, anyway?" Kaoru added, to further contribute to Tamaki's growing embarrassment. Another napkin ball bounced off the blond's forehead. "Everyone knows there's a gap there."

Tamaki valiantly fought off his mounting annoyance. Despite his efforts, the veins in his forehead were throbbing. "Regardless of all that, I have decided that Haruhi's apartment will be most suitable! You all have no objections with that, correct?"

The girl in question had just finished processing this new information, and was jumping to squash the fire before it got out of hand. "Wait a minute. Don't get ahead of yourselves, you can't all just—"

"If it's at Haru-chan's, count me and Usa-chan in!" Honey exclaimed, around a mouthful of cake. Seriously. This kid ate nothing but cake. How he was even healthy was beyond him. "You'll come too, right, Takashi?"

The tall boy nodded, expressionless as ever. Either he was allergic to the whole spectrum of human emotion, or had used too much No More Tears Shampoo back when he was a kid.

Haruhi was still spluttering nonsensically as the twins leant forward, donning identical evil grins, just about sealing Haruhi's fate. "Well, then I guess we'll join if Haruhi's hosting."

"Guys are you even listening to me?" The answer was no. No they were not.

Tamaki smiled and struck a triumphant pose, actual physical glitter blowing in the draught caused in the well air-conditioned room. "Kyoya?"

"As long as I can get my work done, then I have no objections." The girl gawked at him, betrayal in her eyes.

"Then it's settled! This Saturday, we're all going to study together! Isn't this exciting?"

Haruhi merely slumped in defeat.

His eyes were squeezed closed.

Tightly. So tight he could see sparks dancing through the blackness.

Someone was bound to notice soon. He probably looked like he was constipated, but he didn't have a single fuck left to give.

He was fuckless.

He wouldn't be surprised if he had been born with -500 fucks to give.

Breathe.

Chin propped up by his hand.

Arm trembling.

Stop.

Deep. Breaths.

To be perfectly honest, Kyoya wasn't sure how he'd made it through the day. In the confusing haze, he couldn't even remember how he reached the clubroom in one piece. The miracle would forever be a mystery to him, just like the mystery of how Tamaki had survived the first fourteen or so years of his life without him. That boy needed constant supervision, how he was alive was beyond Kyoya's comprehension.

What was also beyond Kyoya's comprehension was how to act like a normally-functioning member of society. With his permanent resting bitch-face, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to assume that the twins were cowering in fear that he was planning some gruesome murders.

Likely theirs.

In reality, Kyoya was more focused on not throwing up, wishing he could just remove his traitorous stomach and shove it in the nearest bin, where it belonged, and where what little of the lunch he'd managed to stomach would likely be residing soon enough. He rode out wave after wave of nausea, keeping himself centred. Keeping himself still.

It would pass soon.

But the sledgehammer on his skull wouldn't.

He'd known this was coming, that it was inevitable even, yet in his pure stubbornness, had tried to deny it as best as he could.

What a mistake that had been.

Now here he was. Suffering. Trapped, with no hope of relief.

A hand on his shoulder.

Or was it his imagination?

He glanced up.

The colours were so damn loud.

Blond hair. Practically golden, the purest sunshine, blinding him like the sudden appearance of a supernova. Tamaki. Definitely real. Tamaki, noticing everything, like always.

Tamaki, helping.

"Come with me. I think you've exerted yourself enough for today." The boy led him forward with a determined hand around his wrist, navigating them with steady, smooth steps, right into the back room. Tamaki guided Kyoya onto the couch with a gentleness reserved only for him. "Rest here."

"Tamaki—"

He was hushed, a gentle hand easing him back down. "Rest, Kyoya. You're in a lot of pain."

Kyoya relaxed, obediently.

The material was soft, plush. He sunk into it, feeling as though he was floating on air.

But, because he was Kyoya, he still complained. "Stop with the face."

Chuckling, Tamaki draped a blanket over him. Pale blue— a soft sound like the tinkle of running water. Where he'd retrieved it from was beyond him. "Try to sleep for a bit, alright? I'll take care of everything."

"That doesn't exactly reassure me."

There it was.

Weak, and shaky, but more him than this pitiful, grovelling thing.

God, he hated himself.

The remaining Hosts had congregated at the door. A single entity formed from concerned faces, all shifting nervously.

The blond swiftly put them all to work. Honey and Mori snapped the blinds closed and plunged the room into darkness. Kaoru almost suffocated him with a collection of stray blankets and pillows. Haruhi was tasked with grabbing some water, ice cold— Tamaki added a tiny colourful umbrella to cheer him up, and if he were able to, Kyoya would've thrusted it up his nose. With stiff movements and a manner quite unwilling, Hikaru reluctantly handed over his treasured headphones.

Fixed securely over his ears, the silence that greeted him was a temporary blessing.

He must have drifted in and out of sleep, because he only retained confusing snatches of memory.

Kyoya didn't quite remember when Hosting hours had started, nor the exact number of times one of those morons had peeped into the room to check on him, apparently thinking they were being subtle.

(Spoiler; they weren't).

Tamaki had returned at one point, with a familiar box of pills in hand. Painkillers. Kyoya hated the bastards, but they worked miracles. After choking down one with a hefty amount of water, Tamaki adjusted the pillows and left.

Often, he was alone. That suited him just fine. He wasn't exactly eager to be gawked at. Not to mention the fact that the twin's eyes were almost as bad as Tamaki's hair. So bright and loud and painful.

His head must be splitting open. Maybe if he reached up he could feel the cracks.

No.

No, that was foolish.

Your head is fine, Kyoya. Stop being an idiot.

A cold compress had appeared at some point, applied across his forehead. Tamaki's doing, most likely. It felt like heaven, cooling the skin, seeming to seep right through and attack the pain directly.

He woke much later, feeling moderately less shit, and staring up at a ceiling that wasn't quite familiar.

For a moment, he thought he was waking up in Haruhi's apartment, just like before.

It was yellow there.

Not in the sense that the apartment was literally yellow, but Kyoya just had the feeling of yellow. It was warm, inviting. Strangely, it felt more like a home than his own, which was only yellow when Fuyumi visited, and even then, not quite a rich golden colour like there.

God, he sounded ridiculous.

But the absence of cooking food, and a cheery Ranka dragging him over for breakfast sent that theory spiralling out the window. No, this wasn't like before, with a sleepy Haruhi— hair still mussed from bed— making casual conversation with him across the table, and him wanting the merciful gods he didn't believe in to strike him down right there and then.

Maybe they sensed his lack of faith, for he was left to suffer.

That certainly was a strange morning, and he'd experienced plenty of those in his lifetime.

It culminated in him being unceremoniously kicked out once she remembered the twins would be arriving soon to pick her up. A wise move on her part, as it would certainly look strange if they found Kyoya sitting there, still in his uniform from yesterday. ("Strange" being the understatement of the century. Kyoya suspected the fallout of that situation would've likely entailed him ending up dead in some nondescript ditch, body mutilated beyond recognition).

Of course, it would be a cold day in Hell before the bespectacled boy allowed her to leave without protection, so he stuck a tail on the car without her knowledge. (She would have surely murdered him if she found out, so Kyoya's continued survival was a miracle in itself). From what was reported to him, the three were safely tucked up in the Hitachiin mansion the entire day.

Well.

The definition of Safe was open for interpretation.

He initially doubted she would be safe from their pranks and mischief.

She called him later, after returning home.

The day, despite her expectations, had been enjoyable. The twins hadn't even taken the opportunity to stick her in revealing outfits. Instead, she spent the day helping them by modelling a new petite range of clothing they'd designed— a task delegated to them by their mother, who was thoroughly pleased with their work. The twins joined her in putting on ridiculous outfits and generally messing around, which made her feel far less reluctant than she normally would have. Afterwards, the three of them flopped down on the twin's bed and played games until late in the evening.

Hearing that she was safe and well was— how to say it — satisfying?

Yes, that was suitable enough.

Satisfying.

Now Kyoya had deduced he was, not, in fact, in Haruhi's apartment.

So that left the mystery of where the fuck he actually was.

The last thing he remembered was… passing out in the back room? Or, well, falling asleep. That seemed more suitable. Much more refined. God, here he was clinging to his last shreds of dignity as if he hadn't just practically died in front of his entire friendship group.

He was never living this down.

Kyoya shifted, and finally registered a soft material underneath his hand.

Ah, yes, there was the blanket Tamaki had draped across him. Evidently his unconscious body hadn't decided to take a wander.

To his relief, he felt absolutely nothing.

The painkillers must be working.

… And his throat was dry.

Disgusting.

The colourful monstrosity that was his glass of water had been removed. Kyoya wasn't quite sure whether he was glad or not.

In the search for a drink, he spotted a figure that may or may not have been Haruhi sitting in a chair next to the window, quietly reading a book.

Shifting the headphones down, he propped himself up on his elbows, mentally piecing together a sentence which displayed his usual eloquence. After wallowing for however long, Kyoya was eager to re-assert himself as a force that wasn't to be reckoned with, lest anyone foolishly assumed he had degraded into a pushover from one measly migraine.

"You're blurry."

Nailed it.

"Your glasses are on the table, Kyoya-senpai."

He almost bitch-slapped himself in the face, hand groping to determine this for himself. Since Haruhi had already seen him crossdress, half naked and now half dead, he had no shame, having already come to terms with the fact that there was no chance of her holding even the slightest amount of respect for him ever again.

Finding no sign of the usual frames, the same hand reached across the table to locate them. His fingers touched something smooth and most definitely not his glasses, before a hurried Haruhi gently batted them away.

She returned his glasses to their rightful perch, avoiding taking out an eyeball as she did.

"What time is it?"

A teacup was thrust into his hands. "Sorry, it's cold now, but Tamaki-senpai insisted it would help you." Once he fully eased himself up, Kyoya obediently took a sip, grimacing at the taste. Cold, weak coffee always sickened him. He would've announced this aloud, but feared that Haruhi would give him a scolding smack upside the head and so wisely held his tongue. "It's five right now. Oh, and I called Tachibana-san earlier. He'll be here at seven to take you home. He wanted to give you time to rest, but if you still can't make it downstairs, he said he'd carry you."

"Fantastic." With much agony, Kyoya curled back up on the couch. "How long was I sleeping for?"

"The better part of two hours. You kept waking up, so Tamaki-senpai ordered us to stop disturbing you. Are you feeling any better?"

"Marginally, I suppose. I no longer feel on the verge of death. And everything is quiet now, at least." Tired eyes searched the tables. "By any chance, did Tamaki leave any tablets behind?"

"I've got the box in my pocket. If you're still feeling bad, you can have another one in an hour." She touched the compress, humming thoughtfully under her breath. "That's feeling pretty dry. Do you want me to get you a new one? There's a load in the first aid kit."

"Yes, thank you." Then, in a very soft voice, he asked. "Where's Tamaki?"

Haruhi shot him a sympathetic smile as she rifled through the box. "He had to leave. He tried to convince his father, but apparently it was really important." Agonisingly slowly, Kyoya peeled off the old compress and discarded it on the table. Haruhi ignored his outstretched hand and carefully applied the new one, cool fingers a relief against warm skin. "He was really worried, so I offered to stay here with you."

"I see."

He might've slept for a little while, but he wasn't quite sure.

Haruhi was with him, at least.

So he was safe.

She'd been staring at the little black book more frequently. No matter how much she tried not to, the secrets hidden in the pages intrigued her so much, she abandoned all reason.

A miracle, in itself.

Or would a curse be more appropriate?

Eventually, Kyoya clocked on. Still in too much pain to sit up, he'd been staring up at the ceiling for a while now, occasionally conversing with her in a low voice.

"Now what?"

Haruhi pretended to be entirely fascinated with her nails, but she wasn't fooling anyone.

"Nothing." She responded, automatically.

He shifted his arm to stare at her properly. "Don't lie to me, Haruhi. It's irksome. Especially when executed so poorly." Tiredly, his narrowed eyes settled on the black notebook he hadn't realised was under one arm. "You want to look, don't you?"

She merely gave a non-committed shrug in response.

"Well?"

"I'm… interested." She replied, finally. "You always seem to be writing in it. Can I see?"

For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse. His gaze flicked from his precious book, up to her, and back again, as though he were jealously guarding some precious secret. Eventually, and with slight hesitation, he placed it into her outstretched, yet entirely unsuspecting, hand. Haruhi blinked, somewhat speechless. She didn't expect it to be so freaking easy. "Are you sure?"

He gave a small nod, fingers flying to his temple almost immediately with a little 'ow'. Once he recovered, he managed a small smile. "I don't mind."

Haruhi very quickly came to the conclusion that an injured Kyoya was a pushover. "But you've always been annoyed when Tamaki-senpai or the twins try to look."

"They never bothered to ask me first. Wouldn't you be annoyed if they tried to take something of yours without permission?"

It was a valid point. Haruhi herself often scolded them for doing the self same thing with her. She couldn't really blame Kyoya for unleashing Hell upon them when those three plotted against him. It wasn't like they ever succeeded, either. The whole endeavour seemed rather pointless, especially if Kyoya was so willing to share when asked politely.

Even with his migraine-induced bed rest, she was 99.9 percent certain he wouldn't hesitate to cut her if she damaged his precious book in any way. There goes the pushover theory. His eyes deftly tracked her progress towards the window where she settled down, carefully edging the blinds up the slightest amount to light the book.

She picked a random page.

Which was blank.

Going for a re-do, she flipped more towards the front of the book and hoped for the best.

This time she hit the jackpot.

Notes were sprawled within every square inch of the paper, neatly printed in carefully formed characters.

Kaoru- Classical music. Piano and Strings, flowing rhythm, think running water. Soft, melodic, gentle.

Hikaru- Rock. Drums, energetic, firm beat. Headphones on, solitary.

Little reminders of quirks and characteristics. Personality traits, preferences, and a shit ton of light-hearted sarcasm everywhere she looked.

And then sprinkled in between there were little sketches, micro-expressions Kyoya had picked up on and jotted down for future reference; the subtle crease between Mori's brows when he frowned, differing only slightly from when he was angry to when he was concerned. Or the direction Hikaru's eyes flicked to when he was lying, or ashamed. The tad difference between Tamaki's real smile, and one concealing pain.

Or just a memento of that time Tamaki walked into a door and subsequently had the twins rolling on the floor laughing at him for a good fifteen minutes.

Then there were reminders of which confectionary Honey liked best, with numbers printed neatly beside them, ready to dial should the little blond senpai need cheering up.

Ideas for cosplay, notes on what lines and costumes seemed to be the most well-received, as well as the occasional graph or table. Notes on customers, queries, concerns.

… Then there were the names of people who had conveniently stopped frequenting the club. Now, Haruhi wasn't dense, she'd seen a couple of customers get a little too handsy with the boys. She'd even raised concerns herself a couple of times, and tried to subtly probe to see if the affected party were alright after each incident. She did have a heart, after all. Seeing her friends get groped just about tested the limits of Haruhi's kindness. Apparently Kyoya had noticed, too, (not that he hadn't experienced it himself), and dealt with that appropriately.

Some words were circled in big, looping rings. There were whole sentences underlined with dark, jagged lines. Some more carefully highlighted, others more rushed, showing more urgency to be remembered.

Her name jumped out at her sometimes.

Scents she liked; vanilla and apple and cinnamon- Candles, followed by three question marks and ringed quite soundly. Warm jumpers, oversized, comfy- A nod to her randomly slipping on the ones he often left lying around her apartment. Though now she was beginning to think that that may have been deliberate.

Sly bastard.

There were pages and pages of notes, so many it would take her hours to go through them all.

She returned, meeting cool steel grey eyes.

"Are you satisfied?"

Haruhi pointed silently at the pen beside him. After a moment of curious studying, he handed it to her, resisting the urge to lean over as she deftly tacked down, green tea and engaging books next to her name. She had a feeling that he'd already had those two things filed away somewhere, but it never hurt to make sure. Then, with a smile, she handed it back to him.

After scanning over her neat characters, his eyes slid shut once more.

"This was a very educational experience."

"Is that so?" He drawled the words, an attempt at carelessness.

Haruhi, fraught with indecision, chewed on her bottom lip. This action had not gone unnoticed by Kyoya, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he allowed her to work up the courage to choose whether or not she wanted to voice her thoughts.

"Why do you like to present yourself as such a heartless bastard when in reality you are far from that?"

Her words enticed a small smile. "Isn't it easier that way?"

She found it intriguing how he posed a question, instead of returning with a firm statement.

But Haruhi could neither deny nor agree with this, so she shrugged, and allowed them to lapse into thoughtful, companionable silence, with only the quiet flipping of pages to keep them tethered to reality.

A/N: Back at it again with another chapter (ew, what was that intro?). This is the longest chapter to date and is probably filled like 90 percent with sarcasm but do I have any regrets? No. No I do not. (At this point I've just given up trying to sound coherent in these little outro things, those who dare read will be subject to my ramblings).

The end scene man. The end scene. I have been working on this sinCE LAST YEAR SO IT BETTER BE PERFECT BY NOW. Who am I kidding, I have accepted my fate, it shall stay as my greatest failure (I'm dramatic, I know).

Thank you for everyone who supported the last chapter, and everyone who gave me well-wishes (if that's the right word?). I'm dramatic af and you know shit happens, but looking back on my whole last A/N I'm dying like wtf this is some Sirius Black level dramatics girl go eat a Snickers

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, more bromance than romance (psst what romance this is tagged under friendship, fooled you suckers), because the Tamaki-Kyoya BROTP is life

Side Note: Like a day after I posted the previous chapter I discovered my room was infested with baby spiders. After the initial freak-out, catch me laughing like a fucking maniac because the only thing going through my mind was the goddamn barricade scene from Spiders etc (why did I make the title so long, jeez I was not thinking straight).

TLDR; I'm a nerd that likes to laugh at my own jokes