Disclaimer: Don't own it. Never did. Never will.
A/N: Well, so much for 'updated each day'. xD I've just been really busy with finals. Thank God that Summer's here, eh? I was inspired to write this after watching an episode of Smallville, because Lex reminds me of Kyouya in different ways. I sincerely hope that this is in character. If not, sorry!
"You don't love her, do you?"
The soft consistent sound of fingers hitting the keyboard slowed, but didn't stop. Reflected light hid onyx eyes from view, and a small noise that could have been a chuckle was heard. Kyouya Ootori, eyes still trained on the screen in front of him, smirked at his best friend.
"Not all relationships are about love, Tamaki. You've been watching too much television."
Tamaki folded his arms across his chest, genuinely puzzled. "Then why marry her?"
The dark-haired man's smirk disappeared as he abruptly shut his laptop with a harsh click. "Merit." Kyouya turned to face the naïve Frenchman, "You know that nothing else would motivate me."
Frowning, Tamaki moved so that he was directly in front of the young man, one arm supporting him on the expensive glass tabletop.
"Liar."
Kyouya raised an eyebrow, but otherwise kept calm. What did he mean by that, exactly? Did he think that the youngest Ootori was hiding the fact that he did, indeed love his fiancée? Tamaki had really played one too many dating simulation games. He supposed he had Renge to thank for that.
"She and I have mutual goals. We both have the desire to ruin our fathers' companies. Well, not so much ruin as –"
A hand came down the table, causing it to wobble dangerously.
"You lied when you said that nothing else would motivate you."
The blonde's words hung in the air for a moment or two, until Kyouya shot them down. "Nothing else would motivate me, Tamaki. As I've said before, if you're going to talk nonsense, do it while you're asleep."
With that, he turned back to his work, grabbing a familiar clipboard and flipping through various papers, utterly indifferent. As usual.
But Tamaki wouldn't have it.
"What about Haruhi?" He asked, his voice hardening unintentionally. "What merit did you gain from her?"
The sound of rustling paper died.
Kyouya froze. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
"What about Haruhi? She has nothing to do with anything. This discussion is over." The clipboard fell, forgotten, to the floor, as Kyouya stood up suddenly from his seat. He began to advance toward the door, picking up his cell phone to call for a limousine, when Tamaki held him back.
"You can't keep running away from her, you know."
Each syllable was spoken softly, but they cut like knives into Kyouya's back, shredding his designer jacket. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes for a brief moment.
"I'm not running away from her."
"What do you call this, then?" Tamaki took a step forward. "You never call her, never mention her. You haven't spoken to her since her high school graduation –"
"Why would I?" Kyouya's eyes snapped open and he whirled around to face the other man, cool façade torn off completely. "She has nothing to do with me anymore. In case you haven't noticed, we are no longer in the host club. Ouran Academy is a thing of the past. We've grown up, gone our separate ways. Why on earth would I contact Fujioka Haruhi?!"
"You love her."
It was a statement, not a question. Tamaki looked at his best friend with understanding, not bothering to hide his own pain at the truth of what he had just said.
Kyouya opened his mouth, and then closed it. For the first time in his life, Kyouya Ootori had nothing to say.
Tamaki gave a small, rueful smile and ran a slender hand through his blonde hair. "I know you know it. I actually figured it out during our senior year." He took a seat on one of the ridiculously expensive cream-colored couches that furnished the work area. "I didn't fully realize it until much later, but I saw the way you looked at her." The smile faded slowly. "You didn't look at anyone else that way. You still don't."
Awaiting a response that never came, Tamaki sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor. "By the time I had noticed your feelings, she had already rejected my own. So I can't be your excuse for not telling her."
Letting go of a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, Kyouya started to walk toward the couch, but stopped in mid-motion, setting his foot back on the ground.
"I'm being realistic, Tamaki. No relationship between Haruhi and I could ever work out. Not because of social status or upbringing… But because I'm not the right kind of man for her." His voice was the same as it always was – clear and calm. He wore no expression whatsoever. It was his eyes that betrayed him. Onyx eyes that were once unfathomable now shone with a sadness and remorse that had been repressed for years.
By then, Tamaki was beginning to become exasperated. That was not the emotional confession he had been anticipating. "How would you know?! You never even tried to find out! For all you know, you could be the perfect guy! The seemingly aloof, yet surprisingly kind-hearted hero who sweeps the heroine off her feet with his charm!"
"In case you haven't noticed, life is not a comic book." Adjusting his glasses so that his eyes were hidden by the light, Kyouya made his way over to his desk and began to gather the array of papers together, putting them in a black bag, along with his laptop. "Life is much more complicated than you might think. Now if you'll excuse me, it's getting late, and I would like to go home."
"Kyouya, please. I just want you to be happy."
Glancing over at his best friend, Kyouya placed his hand on the cool metal of the doorknob. "Then I suggest that you let me leave. After you, of course. This is my office."
Tamaki grit his teeth, but did as he was told. Once they were in the elevator, he put a hand on the Ootori's shoulder. "Don't marry that woman, Kyouya. I don't want you to do something that you're going to regret."
Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Kyouya looked straight ahead, taking a step out onto the first floor of the parking garage.
"I'm afraid it's a bit too late for that."