"Excited to go tonight?"

"Excited to see everyone again, yes," Kyoya tried for a smile. An improvement to previous attempts, it fell only a little flat.

"Honey-senpai wanted to meet with us for a chat beforehand," Tamaki mused, "I wonder what for?"

"What time?" Kyoya grunted from their bed.

"Early."

To be honest, neither Tamaki nor he felt like going. It had been recent as only one or two months ago that Kyoya had felt okay even leaving the house. He paused. The house. It had been longer since they'd signed the lease and it still hadn't become a home, not like the apartment had been. But the two men couldn't hunker down there any longer, not with the media outlets getting wind that they had lost a secret lover, and had begun harassing the tenants. The two men wouldn't be able to bear it if Kagome's neighbors began to resent them, and had packed everything and moved out. They didn't want to leave their apartment complex- their home - but everyone else in the world had insisted upon it.

Tamaki had been easier to persuade back into the public. Now that Kagome had passed, the Suoh matriarch was taking it easier on her grandson. Tamaki had even reported one night, in a voice wet with bewildered tears, that the two of them had bonded over losing a partner.

"It's wrong, isn't it? To get closer with someone who disapproved of her."

Kyoya thought for a moment, then carefully spoke. "I don't think it's wrong to seek a better connection with your grandmother." He was acutely aware of speaking for Kagome (despite how much she would have hated that). Kyoya said, "She would be happy for what good came of it, with what romantics the two of you are."

"Yeah, we are." Tamaki had smiled, patted Kyoya's hand, and entered their bathroom to remove his facemask.

Maybe talking about her like she wasn't gone was a sign of a sickly mind, but the façade brought a sense of comfort to them both. They both knew she was dead, and in the same breath discussed the woman as if she never had left. It was something that had begun without a word by both of them. Kyoya's therapist had pointed out the inevitability of futile coping mechanisms, stating that keeping someone's memory alive was one thing, but that it was ultimately detrimental on their behalf to refute her absence. In contemporary verse: it would be okay, for a while, but then play time would be over.

Which Kyoya understood, really. But then the 'good' doctor had made a comment, "A lot of strife for a woman you barely knew." At this point, the fight had left him; Kyoya just switched fucking therapists and stopped wasting everyone's time. Funnily enough, he was doing leaps and bounds better with his new doctor.

But in the stretching yawn of midnight, the comment burrowed under Kyoya's skin, deep into his heart. It was true that he and Tamaki had hardly known Kagome. They loved her, but their relationship wasn't exactly conventional from the get-go. Though the strict boundaries in the beginning of dating had gentled, there just hadn't been enough time to really get to know everything that they would have liked to have known about each other. Kyoya knew Kagome loved oden, and complained about the rain, and her favorite lucky numbers. He had known she was a strong fan of practicing archery, but didn't know what her motivation for it was. There was so much he didn't know. They had always thought there would be time later.

A suggestion from his new doctor was to see Kagome's family, but both Kyoya and Tamaki weren't sure how to approach after a year of radio silence. The pair was unsure how the family had taken the news, and though Tamaki had shouldered the cost of the shrine for this last year, they still felt like a pair of thieves towards the Higurashi family line. Thieves who had smuggled the most precious gemstone away, and after accidentally crushing it, were forced to return with empty and clumsy hands.

Tamaki peeked his head from the doorframe and called out: "So have we heard anything about this Lady Taisho?"

Kyoya felt his smile grow more real. He opened up his laptop, flicking through the encrypted emails to get to the meat of the reports. "A few tedious things about her, nothing of substance. She's barely made her presence known to the public. There's not even a single publicized photo of this woman." Mockingly, Kyoya sang, "A budding young philanthropist who came from nowhere. How quaint."

"… And?" Tamaki cajoled, sensing the addendum. It was refreshing to bring back some of their banter.

"I've got her first name," Kyoya said. "It's Kohana." There was a sound of plastic smashing to the ground, along with Tamaki's surprised swear. "Tama, are you alright?"

"Fine, fine," Tamaki grumbled, and then bent down to pick something up by its electrical cord. It was probably the hair dryer, knocked off in his shock, but what had… ah.

⟦"Kagome, did you miss us?" The two men had just come back from an international red-eye flight, exhausted. She would usually welcome them home by taking their hand, kissing it, then kissing their pulse. Tamaki, who thrived on touch, adored the ritual, while Kyoya was always left flustered by the intimate act.

But Kagome wasn't there to greet them. Instead they had come home to her asleep on the sofa, surrounded by party decorations. Above her, tacked across the wall, was a garland of letters that read WELCOME BACK!

"She must have fallen asleep," Kyoya sighed.

"Can't blame her," Tamaki tiredly pointed out. "Our red-eye was delayed by several hours."

While the two of them quietly went to put up their things, Kagome was awoken by the noise. She stayed draped across the couch but gestured needily for their company. As soon as the three were comfortably sprawled on the sofa she kissed their wrists, holding their hands close to her heart. Kyoya, dead on his feet, simply nestled into her side. He ran his thumb over her pulse, once, twice, thrice.

"Missed us?" Tamaki asked again, more teasingly. He smiled as he kissed her cheeks.

"Like the sun and the rain had both vanished from my life." She sighed, already halfway back asleep. "Never leave me again."

"Oui, ma petite fleur."⟧

The name Kohana must have provoked him; Lady Taisho would just always have to be referred to by her family name.

Lost in his train of thought, Kyoya startled at Tamaki's close proximity.

"Are you alright?" Tamaki teased, kissing Kyoya's brow. His skin was damp from the shower, and Kyoya stuck his face into Tamaki's neck and smelled his own sandalwood aftershave. He loved Tamaki. He loved him.

"Never better," Kyoya said, then shuddered. "That's not what I meant. I didn't mean it like that."

"Kyoya, it's alright…"

How the hell was he supposed to do this? Months had passed- a full year had-

A full year had passed.

"It's a year," he heard himself say. Tamaki stilled, arms still wrapped around Kyoya's shoulders. "It's a year to the day. Did you know that?"

Tamaki replied, but it was too late: Kyoya was gone, gone back again to their final day with her.

⟦One thing Kyoya loved about his partners was how quickly they could move from graceful to clumsy. It was simply ironic that Tamaki, the best dancer he'd ever known, and Kagome, who could shoot a moving target from a hundred meters away, were such disastrous people when left to their own devices. Kyoya steadied Kagome once more, practically carrying her. A few days ago her legs had gained a sudden proclivity for buckling, her brain too sick to communicate. The clumsiness wasn't endearing anymore.

He studied her carefully: paper thin skin, her clouded eyes, her limp hands. Her hair was dull and had to be braided for her every morning. They could have afforded a stylist easily, but Tamaki insisted on being the one to do her hair and brush it out.

Any day now, said the professional medical student in his brain.

Everything about her was sluggish; When she spoke it was through cotton and nonsensical: "How come I don't I draw as much?"

He had promised her something, perhaps to bring a book, but all that was running through his head was: Any day now. Any day now. Then her head lolled in his direction, and she pressed her mouth against his exposed collarbone.

And she slept forever after that.⟧

Tamaki's pale face popped into his swimming vision. Kyoya groaned, and dropped his head back against the pillow. He still hadn't gotten out of bed, and today had not been making a good case.

"Kyoya? What was it?"

Kyoya, unable to make himself speak, leaned forward to kiss Tamaki's shoulder through his shirt. I keep expecting to see Kagome, he wanted to say, but didn't want the conversation that would follow. Tamaki would follow in the steps of their therapist and begin to carefully regard his mental state, or worse, would try to bring her up. Kyoya couldn't bear it. Did he or did he not want to discuss her? He didn't know if that was the correct question; of course Kyoya wanted to talk about her, but so few people in their lives had met Kagome. So few people mourned her.

So Kyoya said, "What time should we start getting dressed for this party?"

Tamaki laughed delightedly. "Now, silly. Here, I've picked out the proper suit for you…"