A/N: Last chapter here, Folks. A little shorter than the last chapter, but mostly this is just emotional wrap-up, so that's okay. There will be an epilogue, hopefully posted in the next few days, but after that I'll consider the "Remember When" stories officially complete.
Yeah. I'm a little emotional about it.
A million thanks to those of you that have stuck with me this far. I love and appreciate you all dearly, and the support you've given me has meant so much. HUGS AND KISSES FOR YOU ALL!
I do not own Ouran High School Host Club; it belongs to Bisco Hatori.
Equilibrium Act
"Kyo-chan. We're not going to let you leave."
Beneath her fingers, Haruhi felt Kyoya's wrists tighten into steel bands of stress. This was panic, as much as Kyoya was able to show. His bones were iron bars underneath Haruhi's hands; every inch of him solid in denial of this.
"You cannot keep me here," Kyoya returned, and his voice was rough, like someone had run it over a cheese grater. "You have no reason to do so."
Hunni laughed, like Kyoya had just told him the silliest joke he'd ever heard. Like they were all sitting down to cake and tea, rather than standing knee-deep in confrontation.
"Of course we have a reason, Kyo-chan," Hunni said merrily, and his smile was an assassin's blade on a boy's face. "We're your friends."
"That was your idiotic idealism. Never mine. I didn't take part in the Host Club to make friends. You were all means to an end for me, a way for me to prove my skills to my father. I used you."
"Aw." There was a laugh in Hunni's voice still, bright and happy, but his eyes were burning, and Haruhi was a little afraid. It was a rare, and sort of horrible thing, to see him like this. "That's kind of mean, Kyo-chan. But you can't use your friends, you know. Not really. We knew what you needed us for, and we did it, so to you it might have seemed like using, but it's what friends are supposed to do anyway. Isn't that nice, Kyo-chan? Isn't that better, to just have super-duper good friends?"
"You are ridiculous." Kyoya's voice came out as acid, meant to scald everyone in the room. "All of you. The Host Club was a game. A glorified chessboard that we all played on. And it was in high school. We were never meant to last beyond that, you morons. So why won't you leave me to my work in peace?"
Haruhi won't look at Tamaki, even though he's standing so close, pressed against Kyoya's side. She won't, because she's afraid that the hurt she knows is on his face will cripple her. He's important, and he was already hurting before this, and Haruhi is terrified that she'll lash out at Kyoya for his sake. And she can't, because then they'll lose him forever.
So she fixed her eyes on the rigid line of Kyoya's jaw, and bled for Tamaki silently instead.
"You don't believe that, Mon Ami," he said softly, and she was absolutely right. The quiet agony in his voice alone twisted her stomach into terrible knots, and brought hot, hateful words to her throat that took effort to swallow back. "If you did, you wouldn't have worked so hard to bring us all together like this. I know you, Kyoya. You don't put effort into things that you consider unworthy of your attention." Haruhi could hear the smile in his voice, but it wasn't okay, because it was a sharp and brittle thing. "And that means that you wouldn't be fighting us so hard if we meant nothing, Mon Ami."
He was right. Tamaki was always right when it came to Kyoya. That was why they worked.
"I screwed everything up," Haruhi murmured into the angry silence, and every pair of eyes immediately swung her way. Even Kyoya's furious ice-storm gaze.
"Haruhi, what-"
"Haru-chan, you didn't-"
"Shut up," Haruhi offered, calmly cutting off Hunni and the twins mid-protest. "Seriously, guys. Enough with the protecting, you're making me crazy. I wasn't actually looking for reassurance. I'm just breaking down the facts."
"Like a good lawyer," Mori murmured, and if she wasn't so afraid to take her eyes off of Kyoya, Haruhi would have smiled at him for it.
"Right. And it's true, what I said; I screwed everything up." No one spoke this time. They were all waiting to see where she would take this, Kyoya included, even though she could see that he already understood her point. "You were pairs before I found you. The perfect balance; each of you had someone that you needed the most, and it was universally understood within the group. Hikaru and Kaoru had each other, Mori-sempai had Hunni-sempai to protect, and Kyoya-sempai had Tamaki there to balance him. But then I came, and I screwed everything up." Brown eyes locked with brittle gray, and Haruhi realized that what she would have died before saying only a few months ago came easily now in the face of this. "Because I needed you, all of you, but you and Tamaki the most, Kyoya-sempai. You all balanced me, but you and Tamaki made me..." She trailed off, struggling, and desperately prayed that her words wouldn't fail her, not now. "Finished. Done."
"Whole," Tamaki provided quietly, and Haruhi nodded.
"Yes. Whole. Because you're the logic, Kyoya-sempai, and I'm the staid, the tradition. And Tamaki balances us both because he thinks with his emotions, and uses them to understand us. And if it would have just been that, just the three of us turning a pair into a group of three, then it would have been fine and we wouldn't be having this conversation now. But we're not equal, because now Tamaki and I...and everything's shifted and you're the one that got left alone and, Kyoya-sempai, I am so sorry."
He was going to shove away, pry his wrists from her fingers. Haruhi could see it. It was too raw, and too real, and like she'd just said, this was Tamaki's realm. Neither of them were at ease in it. But she would share everything to keep him, and to hell with her own comfort.
So she locked her hands even tighter, enough to worry that there might actually be bruises on his arms come morning. She knew that Tamaki was doing the same, pinning himself more securely to his side.
A sudden laugh rippled through the room, freezing the trio mid-struggle. The sound might have stood out, a highly inappropriate response to the situation, except that there was absolutely no humor and more than a little hurt in it, and so it actually fit their symphony perfectly.
"Oh man. I'm so stupid."
Hikaru.
There were knives in his eyes. Sharp and sticky with the blood of slaughtered feelings. And yet, still so soft, somehow, and sorry.
"I mean, I thought I had this sulking thing down," he said, and his smile big and bold and empty. "Painted myself as the biggest wronged party in the history of ever, you know? Because Haruhi didn't love me, and I thought that I was the only who really loved her, and so I thought the sulking was totally my right. But I'm just an idiot, because it wasn't my right at all."
"Hikaru," Kaoru whispered, the worry in his eyes was almost unbearable.
"Kyoya-sempai, it belongs to you." Hikaru tangled his hand in his twin's reassuringly, but kept those blade sharp eyes on Kyoya. "Because I was in love with Haruhi. But you were in love with both of them, and they hurt you so much worse."
"You're all...so stupid. I'm not in love with anyone. And I am not hurt," Kyoya shot back. "I'm fine. Just because I want to leave, just because I don't share the same idiotic sentiment..."
"You're bleeding out right in front of us," Hikaru corrected sadly. "Trust me. I know what it looks like."
Kyoya's eyes were wide, and wild, behind his glasses. His control, his constant need to wield it, was arguably the most important factor of his existence. And they were taking it from him. Breaking it from his hands, because Hunni was right. This was what friends did, and they were his, whether he wanted them or not, and he wasn't in control here.
But she was worried, because she didn't know how to end this, didn't know what they needed from Kyoya in order to move on. She was running right now on the instinct that if Kyoya left, he'd be gone from good, but beyond that, she had no idea how to reach absolution.
"The thing is, Kyoya-sempai," Kaoru said, picking up his brother's thread. "Is that I think we were meant to last beyond high school. I mean. We picked each other for a reason, right? Like Haruhi said. We fit. Friendships like ours aren't made that often, because we all needed each other for something, and we still do. So we can never really let each other go, you see?"
"You can leave," Haruhi offered softly. She met Tamaki's eyes for the first time in a long while, and smiled a bit when she realized that there was no panic in that lavender gaze, or fear, and confusion at her words. Only trust. "We can't really stop you, we know that. But Kyoya-sempai, we're not going to leave you alone. Not ever again."
"You can run from us, Mon Ami," Tamaki added gently. "But we will chase you. And eventually, we will catch you again."
"Idiots," Kyoya hissed, and Haruhi could see that he knows he is losing. She can tell, because of the panic in his eyes, and the scream of frustration and fear locked behind his clenched teeth. "I don't...I don't want you to..."
He was shaking. The iron bars under Haruhi's hands, his rigid wrists, were trembling. And they were gentle now, because they knew they would win, even if he walked out like he wanted.
She still didn't know how to get to absolution, but they were closer to it now.
"Children."
The voice from the door seemed to shatter some sort of spell, to intrude upon the world they'd locked themselves in. Everyone swayed upon hearing it, as if it had upset some sort of equilibrium.
Anne-Sophie stood in the entryway to the music room, pale and pinched and holding herself up on the door frame. But the fire of determination in her purple eyes was enough to warm the entire house.
"Mother." Haruhi could see the struggle form on Tamaki's face. He wanted to go to her, to help her stand and maybe escort her back to bed. But he was afraid to let go of Kyoya. "You shouldn't be out of bed. Let me-"
Anne-Sophie shook her head. She wasn't looking at Tamaki, Haruhi realized, and her stomach gave a sharp, unpleasant jump. Those tiger bright purple eyes were locked on a different face.
"You love my son," she said quietly, and Kyoya went still.
"I am not in love with Tamaki," he spat, and Haruhi knew that they'd pushed him beyond his normal boundaries, because she'd never heard him speak to an adult like that before.
"I didn't say you were, Ma Cherie," Anne-Sophie corrected gently. "Love and being in love are very different feelings. Often confused, but not the same."
"I don't understand."
"That's all right," Anne-Sophie said, and she was smiling now, just a little. "You're very young yet. Love is something for the young to experience, and the old to write about, so it's all right that you don't understand."
She shivered a little, wrapped her shawl impatiently around her shoulders.
"All that you have to know now, Kyoya, is that having people who are willing to fight for you is precious, and also imperfect. They're going to make mistakes, and push you away, and hurt you more often than not, because they're close enough to do so. You have to understand that that is what makes them so important, and why you must fight even harder to stay together."
"That makes no sense," Kyoya breathed, and the frustration in his eyes was hot enough to burn. "Why would I want to keep the people who can hurt me? Why would I invite that weakness?"
Anne-Sophie's smile was still warm, and sad.
"Because you know, better than anyone I think, how lonely the alternative is."
Kyoya started to laugh. He ducked his shoulders and his his eyes and laughed like the world was ending.
At his side, Tamaki's eyes widened. He'd heard that laugh before, only once, when Kyoya's fist had been cocked and ready to rip his face to shreds.
"Lonely," Kyoya repeated, like it was the funniest word ever invented. "Yes, lonely. And what's wrong with lonely? Lonely is fine. Lonely is productive. I thank you for your input, Ms. Grantaine, but you see, lonely is what I prefer. It keeps me on schedule, and distraction free, and it...it saves me from situations like this...and it will never...never..."
"You have to forgive them, Ma Cherie."
Stunned, Haruhi could only blink in Anne-Sophie's direction. That was exactly it, exactly what they needed.
Loneliness could never leave him; that was what Kyoya had been struggling to say.
The road to absolution began with Kyoya's forgiveness.
Kyoya was surprised as well. Haruhi can feel it in the way his already rigid body snapped even tighter, and the way his eyes went wide and blank behind his glasses.
"They hurt you," Anne-Sophie continued. "Terribly, Ma Cherie, and that is inexcusable. But they are here now, and they are fighting for you, and they are not perfect, and you must forgive them anyway."
That was love, Haruhi realized. Forgiving and trusting and likely getting hurt again but doing it regardless because they were imperfect, but worth fighting for.
Tamaki had known that from the beginning. Hunni, Mori, Kaoru; they were all aware of the definition. They were the Kings of loving and letting go and holding on when you had to.
Only she, Hikaru, and Kyoya hadn't understood.
But she did now, and she wasn't going to screw it up again now that she knew what it meant.
She let go of Kyoya's wrists and swatted them aside, confusing him enough that she had her arms already wrapped around him before he'd even registered her attempt to hug.
"Kyoya-sempai," she whispered into his chest. She could feel his heart beating against her cheek, fast and loud. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Haruhi," he said, and his voice was hoarse. Wrecked.
"It's okay," she said, fiercely. "It's okay to need people. Please."
There was a pause, that terrified Haruhi more than any of his angry words ever had. Then she felt two sets of arms wrap around her shoulders. Tamaki's arms, over Kyoya's, because he wouldn't move them on his own, even if he'd wanted to. He needed Tamaki there to help him forgive.
Sighing, Haruhi closed her eyes and smiled because this was how they worked. This was why they worked.
Tamaki holding the both of them, because really, they were too stupid to do it on their own.
Kyoya had never actually admitted anything out loud. And he hadn't said that he'd forgiven them, either.
But that made sense, because he was Kyoya, and so it was okay.
…...
The house was quiet in the hours after the confrontation in the music room. Everyone had retreated to their respective corners to think and absorb and rub their skin smooth again after the spillage of so many abrasive emotions. Hunni and Mori had disappeared to a nearby town, to shop for streamers and balloons and other things to make a great birthday party.
Hikaru and Kaoru had walked out into the open fields, and Kaoru's fingers had been tight on Hikaru's as he spoke soft, urgent words to his twin. They'd returned with quiet eyes and peaceful smiles.
Haruhi had been spotted on the back porch, a cell phone in her hand and a smile on her face that she wore only when talking to her father.
Tamaki had helped his mother back to bed, and had been stopped from settling her blankets by soft hands on her face.
"My sweet boy," Anne-Sophie had murmured. "You love so deeply, and so much. A trait passed down from me, I'm afraid."
Tamaki had cupped a hand over hers.
"I'm proud to have it, Mother."
Anne-Sophie had smiled.
"I know, Darling. And I'm glad to have given it to you. But you have other people to share it with; you mustn't worry so much for me."
And Tamaki had nodded, even as his eyes filled with tears, and gone back to arranging his mother's blankets.
Kyoya had disappeared into his room as soon as Haruhi and Tamaki let him go. No one had seen him since.
Now it was the next day, and the sun was just starting to set over the rolling fields and overflowing gardens. Colorful streamers had been hung in the dining room, a special cake was warming in the oven, and the Host Club was getting ready for the party. The twins had announced that they'd procured special outfits for everyone to wear, and the others had returned to their rooms to don them.
Except for Tamaki, who found himself occupied in Kyoya's room instead.
He was sitting on the bed, hands folded in his lap, looking at his friend, who was propped against the window and staring out at the setting sun.
"You're an idiot," Kyoya offered, after a long silence.
"I know," Tamaki said, and Kyoya's lips quirked, even though he never looked away from the window panes.
"I never meant...I never intended..." Tamaki continued, after another silence. "Mon Ami, you know I would never leave you. Right?"
From somewhere inside the house, a door crashed open, and Haruhi's enraged voice roared; "HIKARU! KAORU! I already told you that I am NOT WEARING THIS!"
"Aw, but Haruhi. It's our birthday."
Kyoya sighed.
"I know that. Moron."
Tamaki's hands curled into fists on his thighs.
"I am in love with Haruhi," he said softly. "And that's not going to change. But Kyoya." He looked up, and his violet eyes were sincere. "I need you as well. Just as much."
"NO," Haruhi shouted from the hallway. "Just...NO. I don't even understand how you got this here! WE'RE IN THE GRASSLANDS ON FRANCE. YOU JUST DECIDED TO HAVE YOUR PARTY HERE YESTERDAY."
"Of course you do," Kyoya agreed calmly. "You'd be dead by now if not for me."
"True." Tamaki's smile stretched. Still not admitting anything, even when it was just the two of them. How very typical of his friend. "Or destitute, at the very least."
"Correct." Kyoya finally turned from the window, and shoved his glasses up his nose. "We should get dressed. The twins will pout if we're late to their party."
And now Tamaki's smile widened into a full-blown grin. Because the costume was on Kyoya's bed, and his suitcase was back in his closet.
"Yes, of course," he said. And then he laughed and launched himself at Kyoya with a joyous cry that rivaled the ones coming from the hallway. "WE MUSTN'T DISAPPOINT THE CHILDREN! MOMMY IS SO KIND TO KEEP DADDY ON SCHEDULE!"
Kyoya stepped serenely to the side, so that Tamaki hit the wall instead of him. But he was smiling now, an actual smile.
"Really. Such a moron," he said, but it was just the two of them, so he relented enough to let Tamaki hear the fondness in his voice. Just this once.
…...
It wasn't perfect.
Standing in the corner, arms crossed over her ridiculous costume, Haruhi mentally tallied the score.
The twins were still idiots. They'd chosen to continue on with the mythical creatures theme for their party that they'd originally chosen, and somehow managed to get the costumes they'd had made from Japan to France in the space of a day.
Haruhi tried not to think about it. It gave her a headache.
So there she was, standing and observing, dressed like fairy in wispy, glittery strapless thing that the twins dared to call a dress, with sparkly wings strapped to her back and ribbon-bedecked shoes on her feet that were nothing short of impractical.
It wasn't perfect.
Mori and Hunni seemed all right. They were bouncing (well, Hunni was) around the kitchen, putting the final touches on dinner. Hunni seemed perfectly content in his elf costume, complete with pointy hat and curly-toed shoes. And if Mori had any objections to his werewolf costume, which came with a top too shredded to be a shirt and pants that seemed suspiciously tight-fitting for the creature they were trying to display, they weren't showing on his face.
Hikaru and Kaoru required a second, more lingering look. They were laughing, and talking, and obviously right at home in their imp costumes, complete with devil horns and curled tails and pants even tighter than Mori's. But Hikaru's smile was still a little sad, and Kaoru's eyes were always following his older brother.
Tamaki and Kyoya were...awkward. There was no other word for it really. They were standing close together, and they were wearing their costumes (Kyoya had been allowed to resurrect the vampire cosplay, since it suited him so well, and Tamaki was decked out in tight red pants and a black shirt and a dazzling rainbow of red and orange and yellow face-paint that closely resembled scales...Haruhi was pretty sure he was supposed to be a dragon). But Kyoya's shoulders were stiff and his eyes wary. The softness in Tamaki's eyes indicated that he both noticed and understood. But he didn't stop smiling, and he didn't leave Kyoya's side.
So, it wasn't perfect.
But they would be okay.
"Oh dear, I hope I'm not late."
Haruhi hurried forward as Anne-Sophie came carefully down the stairs, because she didn't want Tamaki to have to leave Kyoya. She held out a steadying hand and helped Anne-Sophie reach the landing.
"Of course not, Anne-Sophie," she said. "You look beautiful."
It was true. Somehow, in addition to magically procuring the costumes already made for their party, the twins had managed to craft another costume for Anne-Sophie. Her dress was a gauzy column of sea-green material, and her golden hair tumbled loose around her shoulders.
"A mermaid, I think" Anne-Sophie said with an embarrassed laugh.
"Of course!" the twins chorused, stepping forward. "And the prettiest one we've ever seen."
Anne-Sophie looked terribly amused.
"Oh, my. Are you intending to woo me with your Hosting skills? Careful, boys. Remember that I'm from France."
Across the room, Tamaki laughed, bright and loud.
They stumbled over moments throughout the night. Hikaru and Kaoru fumbled their 'thank you' upon accepting Kyoya's gift. At some point, Hunni and Kyoya disappeared, and were later spotted having what looked like a strangely serious conversation in the kitchen. Tamaki pressed a gentle kiss to Haruhi's hand while the cake was being cut, and Kyoya's eyes had darted away, like he wasn't ready to trust completely, not quite so soon.
But they had time. And love was about fighting toward better, not just achieving stasis. She knew that now.
Haruhi smiled at her boys, all of them together, and thought that perfection was boring anyway.
...
A/N: Only the epilogue to go, Folks, and then we're done. Everything's settling, and home is in sight. Stay tuned. Happy Reading!