Title: King and Shadow King

Rating: Mature (Lemon in later chapters!)

Warnings: If you don't like Yaoi, then you're in the wrooong place, my friend. XD

Series: Ouran High School Host Club (Anime, not Manga. Leaves ends more open for opportunity. )

P.O.V: Kyouya

Summary: Angry at Tamaki's indolence in leaving the Host Club, Kyouya confronts him in the Third Music Room after the festival. What goes on from there…well, it shall unfold in due course.

Parings: Tama/Kyou

Author's Note: This takes place at the end of the anime series, after the last scene where Tamaki and Haruhi are dancing. All will be explained, I promise. : I plan to spend tons of time on this.

Disclaimer: If I owned Ouran, my name would be Bisco Hatori, and I'd be uber famous.

One

The grounds wereslowly-but-surely emptying as midnight drew closer. Boys trickled out through the gates, girls clinging to their elbows. The night-guards were shooing the leftover students out as well, separating those who were kissing passionately in the bushes. It's the same every year, and the guards never tire of embarrassing the students in this way.

Kyouya sat alone at a table, laptop glowing faintly. According to his calculations, the festival had been a big hit; Ouran might be seeing some hefty donations from some of the higher-rank students' parents. Unconsciously pushing his glasses up his nose – an old habit – Kyouya closed the festival document and shuts the laptop. He waited patiently as it goes into standby, relishing the sound of the fans dying, the hard disks shutting off…

"Sumimasen, but we're closing the gates."

Kyouya looked thoughtfully up, noting the guard who peered down at him. The man's eyes widened as he took in Kyouya's appearance.

"Gomen nasai," he murmured, bowing. "I didn't know it was you, Ootori-sama. Gomen, please stay as long as you like."

Kyouya's eyes followed the guard's retreating back, not looking away until it had dissolved into the darkness. The gates closed with a clang, and he realized that he is alone, in the dark, on the Ouran campus.

"Kyouya, you've outdone yourself this time."

It wasn't as if he hadn't been on the campus all night before. He'd done it many times, preparing for Host Club events, needing a place to stay so as to avoid his father's prying words. He really needed to avoid him this night. He knew his father had realized his son's involvement in buying out the Ootori companies. His father knew full well who K.O. was, knew full well that the third son, Kyouya, now owned nearly the entire Ootori enterprise.

The clock struck twelve, and the gong sent a shiver down Kyouya's spine. The lights around the campus went off, row by row. He was plunged into near-complete darkness. He looked up at the clock tower, the rose-colored stucco grey in the night. The face of the clock was lit by only the moonlight, the silver hands reflecting the soft glow. But there was another light; another light gleamed, below and to the right of the clock, on the third floor…

The Third Music Room's window was alight with warm ambiance, and Kyouya knew full well who was there.

Rising cautiously, he slipped his laptop under his arm and strolled slowly to the stairs. He climbed them surreptitiously, his footsteps barely making a sound on the marble. Kyouya was gifted with softness and grace, and he (coolly) put that to use more often than not.

As the rows and rows of classrooms slowly passed him by, he allowed his mind wander, letting his feet take him automatically to where he needed to be.

Earlier that evening, the wild chase for Tamaki had ensued, leaving Kyouya mentally and emotionally exhausted.

The bastard, he thought. Who in the hell does he think he is, running off without a word to anyone...without a word to me.

Kyouya's mind fell into a soft rage, anger pulling at the corners of his thoughts.

The scene in the parking lot flashed back to him, Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai, using every martial arts trick in their repertoire to give Hikaru, Kaoru, and Haruhi time to go after the stupid King. As they drove the carriage away, his heart followed them, tracing their movements in his logical mind until he could imagine no more. Tamaki was to be saved by Haruhi, not him, and he couldn't change that.

When Tamaki had returned, carrying a wet Haruhi (princess-style) in his equally-wet arms, Kyouya had only watched, a small, bitter smile playing across his face. His relief over Tamaki's safe return was only so strong. His jealousy was stronger, because that's the type of person Kyouya is – headstrong, cool, jealous, intoxicating…

He had reached the door to the music room. He heard the melodious roar of the beautiful grand piano wending its way through the cracks in the door. Kyouya paused, one hand on the knob, hesitating.

After the last waltz had ended, Kyouya had watched quietly while everyone left in their own manner. Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai had gone home together, Honey on Mori's shoulders as per usual, and the Hitachiins, Kaoru supporting Hikaru, because his ankle was sprained during the chase, had headed to their car, moving in unison.

Haruhi had stayed by Tamaki until the others had left, talking quietly with him by the large fountain in the courtyard. Kyouya had pretended not to notice, had tried to ignore them, but his skin bristled as he peered up from his laptop just in time to see Haruhi place a small, light kiss on Tamaki's lips. Kyouya's heart sank as Tamaki's hands went to her shoulders, kissing her back for a moment. Then she left, blushing furiously. Kyouya looked hurriedly back down at his laptop, becoming the Shadow King, living in the shadows, missing the altogether confused look Tamaki had splashed across his open-emotive face.

Back to reality, Ootori, he thought. His hand quivered on the golden knob, and, steeling his resolve, Kyouya opened the door.

The music poured out from the piano: emotive, moving, striking, music. Kyouya subconsciously drifted into the room, watching Tamaki's face, completely enthralled. The ethereal light the boy was giving off quieted Kyouya's mind. The chandelier's glow was glinting off the tear-tracks on Tamaki's face, his eyes narrowed, mouth taught, and fingers flying up and down the keys. Kyouya had never seen this before, this raw, genuine, emotion. Sure, he knew Tamaki's flights and fancies, but as fir pure, real emotion…that was something totally new.

He loved every bit of it.

Tamaki's fingers pounded out the last notes of Musetta's Waltz, by Puccini, and Kyouya was left standing in the doorway, nearly as emotionally exhausted from listening to the powerful piece as Tamaki himself.

The King looked up, gleaming violet eyes locking with Kyouya's instantly. They'd always been like that – understanding each other in an unspoken, connected way. It's probably what Kyouya first fell in love with.

"Kyouya," he murmured.

Kyouya took this as a greeting, and stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him. He even locked it, for good measure, but Tamaki didn't notice.

"Why are you still here, Okasan," he asked.

Kyouya internally chuckled at Tamaki's endearing term, and then quelled the emotion.

"I could ask you the same thing, Otosan," he replied, emphasizing the endearment.

Tamaki started at the question, and then seemed to realize the foolishness of the reaction.

"I was thinking about…about today's events."

Aren't we all, Tamaki, Kyouya thought wryly.

"And what have you concluded about your near-relocation to France?"

"I'm not sure."

Kyouya didn't say anything, only stood, back straight, eyes never leaving Tamaki's.

"I mean…part of me understands the idiocy of my actions. I shouldn't have run away, especially without saying goodbye," Tamaki said sadly.

Kyouya's body tensed. He walked purposely forward, stopping at the piano, leaning on the surface with both hands spread, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, it was pretty foolish," he said savagely. "You didn't even think of us, not once! How could you just think you can leave, Tamaki? You know how much you and I have put into this club; you know that we've given this our all. Why the fuck did you leave!?"

Tamaki looked taken aback at Kyouya's intensity. He didn't respond.

"What was so enticing, Tamaki?"

Tamaki glanced up into Kyouya's angry face, and then back down at the black and white keys.

"They told me I could see her again."

Kyouya froze, mouth open, about to form a sentence.

"Do you mean your...your mother?"

"Yeah."

Empathy flooded through Kyouya, filling him with the need to embrace Tamaki, to hold him and never let go. He ignored the feeling.

"So...you just assumed that you could go without saying goodbye?" the softness in his own voice startled Kyouya, but Tamaki didn't seem to notice.

Tamaki looked up with an unexpectedly sharp glance. He stood.

"You told me on the first day of the festival that I was always causing you trouble, that I was a burden and a nuisance," his voice shook. "I don't want to burden you, Kyouya! It would be better if I'd just left. My flights and fancies always hinder you, and I know you need to have room to expand and become the Ootori heir! I know what you want, Kyouya, and I was prepared to leave to free you, to free Haruhi, too."

"Haruhi," Kyouya said stiffly. "What does she have to do with this?"

"She's going to become a lawyer," Tamaki said quietly, "and by keeping her here after school so often, I'm not being a help to her grades at all."

Kyouya looked into his best friend's face, the lank blonde curls draped softly around his face, violet eyes bright with anguish – genuine anguish. Even as he tried his hardest to prevent it, a laugh bubbled up from the depths of Kyouya's soul, and he laughed softly. Tamaki stared, a few tears trickling down his face.

In three strides Kyouya had walked to the bench, and stood before the King: the stupid, ignorant, flamboyant, sweet King.

"You are the biggest idiot I've ever met," he said.

Tamaki's eyes widened.

"Don't you know a joke when you see one? You are not a burden, Tamaki. You are a big part of our little club, and I don't think anything could change that."

He hesitated, and then added, "Remember, a Shadow King can't lurk in the shadows without a King to stand in the light."

"Kyouuuyaaa!"

Tamaki flung himself into his friend's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Kyouya's shirt became quite wet, but this was easy enough to ignore: He had Tamaki in his arms.

It was like a dream come true, except for the fact that Tamaki was crying hysterically.

Shit, he thought to himself, what the hell do I do now?

He patted Tamaki's back, feeling the other boy relax at the touch. Leading him over to the couch, Kyouya sat down with Tamaki leaning into his chest, and relaxed, letting human instincts take over – instincts of wanting to take care of the person you love most.

"Shhh, it's all right," he said, softly stroking the blonde King's hair.

"I'm never going to see her again, am I?" he sobbed.

Resolve flooded Kyouya.

"We'll find her, Tamaki. I promise. You and I will go to France, and we'll find her together."

Tamaki breathed in a long, deep, shuddering breath, and then pulled away to look at his friend.

"You'll help me?"

"Of course."

Kyouya habitually pushed his glasses up farther on his nose, and looked away from Tamaki's eyes, already making plans, arrangements and calculations on how to find his fellow King's mother.