tfw you update a fanfic 5 years later… seems insane, but I literally still get reviews and messages and stuff on this piece to this day so I really just kinda had to lay it to rest. I had a lot of hang-ups over this story, and grew SO much as a person over the course of writing it (I literally started this in early high school and now I'm about to graduate college wtf). I can't believe we're all about to enter a strange alternate universe where .me's Control is actually complete. Like you can literally tell your grandkids someday 'yeah I waited five years for a fanfiction to finish and literally never quit messaging and sending the author reviews begging them to finish and it actually fucking worked kids follow your dreams'. Anyways enjoy, folks.

~KTK~

The day was like a dream he was drifting through, minutes feeling like hours and hours going by in the blink of an eye, until suddenly as if a cry to get off the dizzying ride he found himself rubbing at the fresh scars on his wrist as he sat in class, the burst of pain serving as a glass of water thrown in his face, reminding him he was alive, at least in the most medical sense of the term.

But then he was drifting again, the feeling never lasting long enough, and lasting less and less all the time, and then class was over and then school was over and then club was starting and then club was finishing up.

Kyoya stared down at the numbers in his little black book, barely registering he had written them there, barely caring that his work was done for the day. He lifted his gaze to stare out the window he sat beside, eyes trailing over the students walking across the grounds below. Had any of them ever felt this way? More accurately put, did any of them not feel? He shook his head, and the thought away. He shouldn't be complaining; days like this were easier. He didn't feel worthless. He didn't feel ashamed. He didn't feel anything. He just felt numb. That would certainly make facing his father later that night much easier. And the cutting after that much easier, too.

Suddenly, music. It was like the sensation he'd been seeking earlier, a glass of cold water thrown in his face, jerking him awake, reminding him of…. Something. Kyoya whipped his head around in surprise to see Tamaki seated at the piano they kept in the corner of the club room, fingers dancing over the keys. The room was already tidied up from that day's activities and emptied, the fellow hosts gathering their things and pulling on coats near the door. Kyoya found himself rising to his feet and crossing the room to the piano, like a moth drawn to light, entranced.

He watched the way the Host King leaned with his music as he played, fingers flowing over the keys with ease, eyes half lidded as if they were looking at something far away. He didn't even have any music propped before him; this was all in Tamaki's head. Kyoya wished he could ever have something so beautiful in his head. Across the room, a wide-eyed Haruhi took in the scene of her senpais and turned back to herd everyone out of the room, assuring them Tamaki and Kyoya would leave in their own time.

Kyoya watched Tamaki's face carefully as he played, noting the emotions that twinkled in his eyes at the same time they swelled in the keys. Kyoya could feel them all, too, just by listening. Feelings he hadn't dared to feel in a long time. Feelings he thought he maybe could no longer feel. Tamaki was laying out all his emotions in his music, blatant for anyone to hear, completely uncontrolled. Yet he was the one masterfully crafting those emotions into every note, curating them for consumption, completely in control of the display. Out of control, in control. It was a contradiction, playing out right before Kyoya's very eyes. He felt a drop on his cheek and reached up to wipe the stray tear away. When was the last time he'd cried?

Finally Tamaki struck the last few notes of his song and gently brought his fingers to rest, letting the sound resonate between them until it faded away completely, and the music room fell silent. He remained completely still, eyes trailing over his fingers frozen on the keys, and Kyoya noticed for the first time Tamaki's sad smile.

"Haruhi told me what she saw, Kyoya."

Kyoya froze. Ice pooled in the pit of his stomach, spreading all throughout his body until he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Little black spots danced before his eyes. Sheer terror.

Tamaki stood, watching him carefully, searching his friend's face as he closed the space between them and took his hand.

"Please, don't be afraid."

He hesitated, then turned Kyoya's hand over and gently pulled back the sleeve. The more he pulled it back, the more scars were revealed, some a pale sliver, barely visible, others sporting thick, dark red scabs, newly healing, and still others irritated, swollen, and barely scabbed at all. Still fresh. Kyoya blinked down at the graveyard on his arm as if he was just as foreign to it. In this moment, it looked different to him. When had there come to be so many?

The hands holding his own arm faltered slightly, then gently pulled the sleeve back down and gripped his hand tight, squeezing almost so hard it hurt. Tamaki finally lifted his gaze from staring down at their hands to look Kyoya in the eyes, their faces suddenly very close.

"Kyoya,"

Violet eyes filled up and overflowed, big tears rolling down his cheeks as his voice wavered,

"I'm so sorry."

Kyoya frowned at the words, attempting to step back, pull his hand away, but he was grounded there, having to look Tamaki directly in the eyes. None of it made any sense, and it was frustrating him. Why was Tamaki the one crying, why was Tamaki the one saying sorry?

"You haven't done anything to apologize for."

He answered. Tamaki shook his head.

"You're my best friend. I thought I made it clear you could tell me anything…"

Guilt shot like a pang through Kyoya's stomach. He'd made Tamaki cry. He'd misled him. He'd hurt him. He wasn't worthy of his friendship. He was just messing everything up, like always.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing."

Tamaki looked nearly horrified at the statement.

"That's not true at all. Something led you to do this, to feel this way, and it wasn't your fault. Someone owes you an apology, Kyoya. Maybe we all do."

Kyoya blinked back at his friend, eyes a little wide at such a statement, again attempting to pull his hand back and again failing. He just wanted to run away, he didn't want to have this conversation anymore. Someone owed him an apology? Wouldn't that be a perfect world. Tamaki was naive. There was no way he could ever understand Kyoya's world. It was why he had never bothered to invite him into it.

"Don't pretend you understand."

He snapped, regretting it as it left his mouth, worried he was sealing the deal on the end of their friendship. But Tamaki didn't wince at his words, didn't pull away, or look upset.

"You're right, I really don't. I can't imagine how you must feel, to have been doing this to yourself."

"I don't feel anything!"

Kyoya finally erupted, yelling right in his best friend's face, willing him to jump, to get scared, to run away.

"I don't feel anything at all, don't you get it? My life is such a fucking mess that the highlight of my day is cutting my arm open just to remind myself that I'm alive!"

They stared at each other. Kyoya waited. And waited. But Tamaki didn't budge. He knew the ugly truth, but he wasn't running away. He could still look him in the eye, still shed tears for him. How could he not see Kyoya was a monster? Frustrated, confused, the Shadow King dropped his gaze to his feet.

"I'm not going to stop."

Maybe Tamaki saw that he was a monster, and maybe he wasn't running away, but it better not be because he thought he was going to magically fix him. It just wasn't going to work that way.

"I'm not going to make you stop."

Tamaki rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish.

"I don't think I even could…"

He shook his head.

"I just want you to be open with me. Don't think you have to hide. You shouldn't have to keep this all to yourself."

Kyoya stared down at his feet. He was exhausted. He felt as if they'd been here for hours. At some point Tamaki had released his hand, but there was no point in running anymore. Tamaki knew the truth. And he wasn't running. So Kyoya would meet him halfway.

"Okay."

Tamaki looked surprised, then nodded hastily.

"Okay! Okay. Good."

He moved like he was going to hug the Shadow King, but stopped himself last minute, settling for a firm pat on the shoulder before turning to start grabbing his stuff to leave. Kyoya followed suit without comment, slowly pulling on his coat. His shoulders were sore. It was as if a 50 pound bag of sand had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Come on Kyoya, I gotta lock up the room! You can't stay here all night, mister!"
Tamaki teased from his position near the door, laughing at the look his friend shot him. Somehow, things were the same. Everything had changed, but things were still the same.

~K~

He was frozen between the bathroom and his bed. It was the middle of the night, but of course he hadn't noticed that until it was too late, and he was running into his father on the way to his room, and he was getting the usual treatment, and smelling the usual whiskey, and feeling the usual pounding in his chest when he finally escaped to his room and closed the door. And his cheek stung.

All he wanted to do was crawl into bed, curl up and fall asleep. But like always something made him pause, perched at the foot of his bed, eyes lifting to stare at the bathroom door, as if a little voice in his head was reminding him,

There's something else you wanted to do, right?

The longer he stood here, the harder it was to decide. If he hesitated, he didn't want to do it, right? But if he hesitated getting into bed, there's clearly something else he needed to do first…

Suddenly, his pocket buzzed. Confused, he pulled it out and read the screen.

T: What's up?

T: Kyoyaaaaa

T: r u asleep?

T: if you're dreaming right now you should wake up and tell me about it :D

Kyoya coughed out a strange kind of laugh before he could stop himself, started at the sound. It was just so completely ridiculous, and just so Tamaki. He quickly typed back a response to put an end to the constant stream of messages- go to sleep, dumbass- then crossed over and toed off his shoes, plugging in his phone and setting his glasses beside it on the nightstand before crawling into bed and going to sleep.

~K~

there's an epilogue comin ya too can you fuccin believe it (believe it)