Chapter 18
"The Suohs would good acquaintances to have," the grandmother perched up her glasses to look the woman in the eye. Kiyoko stood with her arms crossed and her lips pursed, unamused by the thought of having to travel to a wedding of people she did not even know or care about. These meetings with her grandmother were rare but unfortunately necessary – especially when the woman dangled the threat of rehoming her brother at any given moment.
"The Suohs have no business ties to us," Kiyoko pointed out. Plus, it was rather inconvenient to fly to France for a wedding. It was not a surprising thing to her, growing up with the mega rich and being accustomed to the extra exquisite tastes of them. But even then, the logistics of having to plan to travel for a wedding like this seemed like it was far too much for two strangers she only loosely tied to.
"You little twat – why aren't you thinking about this properly?" the elder snapped, not having the patience to explain what was so painfully obvious to the whole world but the naïve child. "The Ootori is putting you in his good graces, take the damn opportunity and put our family back to where it belonged before your father—"
"Fine," she cut off with a huff. She could spare herself the lecture over the family reputation, the same one she had gotten countless times over the course of her life. Kiyoko did not like the thought of attending a wedding of strangers but it was certainly not as bad as what was coming after that. "Another dinner with the Ootoris, though? Is that really necessary? Wasn't one disaster enough?"
Kiyoko thought of how her father had stumbled in drunkenly with whatever his mistress-girlfriend was named at their last meal with the Ootori clan. It was embarrassing but truly not entirely unexpected from her family. Kiyoko was alright living through the second-hand embarrassment once, but twice? The woman had a limit.
"It would be good to begin discussing timelines with the Ootoris."
Kiyoko raised an eyebrow, not liking the sound of the term. "And what timeline did you have in mind?"
"You and the youngest Ootori shall be engaged by the end of the year. An heir by the end of the next," the grandmother announced. "And with that, he will secure the ownership of both of our companies."
The woman blinked as she tried to process the way her grandmother had so casually spoken of her plans. "An heir?" Kiyoko repeated. "You're expecting me to be some child-bearing machine?"
"Well, it would put you to some use," the elder spat. "After all these years of using the Hibayashi name, one that you never deserved to begin with," she added.
It would have been easy to take that letter opener on the mahogany desk, a swift motion as she imagined in her mind: a quick toss of a knife right through the trachea of the elderly woman. The thought of spending a lifetime in jail, or perhaps, house arrest did not phase Kiyoko if only for spare second. Alternatively, she could snarl fuck you to the elder and walk away. A much lesser violent approach. But instead, the woman had come here for one purpose.
"As long as Haru is taken care of and protected," Kiyoko reminded. "His freedom is to be respected. He is happy where he is – happier than he has ever been. He is not to be moved. Not to be touched by the media and especially by Asami. I want to fucking see this in your will."
"He's a parasite," the grandmother growled. "We could have solved this issue years ago with our own facilities."
"He is my brother," the woman corrected with venom in her tone. "And it would do you well to look after your family – your blood family, that is," she coldly clarified.
The elder scowled. "Then you better do your job, child."
"What are you wearing?" her voice was on speaker as he toed off his shoes and began settling into his suite with the view of the Eiffel Tower lit through the window. King-sized bed with vintage elegant French furniture scattered about. It was oddly very reminiscent of their days in Ouran upon a second glance. His luggage towed around the table with a bottle of champagne that was placed next to a bouquet of fresh flowers – he wondered if she would have liked that.
He smirked at her question. "Wouldn't you like to know?" the Ootori shot back.
"For the wedding," Kiyoko clarified with a roll in her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Ootori-san."
"Is there something I should be wearing beyond the usual get-up?"
She paused and sighed. "I suppose not." It was so much simpler for men. She wondered if she brought enough options to be appropriate for a Parisian wedding. Kiyoko most certainly overpacked for the event and even thought about buying a few pieces in-between the windows of free time from her business meetings, just in case.
"Are you flying in in the morning then?" Kyouya asked. "I suppose you won't make it to the hotel in time." He was only staying here a night.
"What?" Kiyoko was confused. "I thought I had a room booked."
"Don't be silly," he dismissed. "I told the wedding planner that we would be together. You'll have to arrive to the venue straight after." It was an email from a few days ago that he had managed to respond to after Tamaki had badgered him over it.
The woman huffed. "So I would have just gone to the front desk and made myself look like an idiot by not having a room at all under my name?"
"I believe the words you're looking for are thank you," he corrected.
"Or fuck you," Kiyoko snapped, enunciating the words at the tip of her tongue. It echoed through the stone walls of the bathroom with two sinks, a separate shower and bathtub. Two robes hung at the back of the door. The only thing missing was her, in front of him, preferably against him.
"Wouldn't mind either way," Kyouya brushed off after realizing that he had missed her presence more than he had thought. "When do you land?" he switched back to the topic at hand.
"Late morning," Kiyoko answered. "I don't think I can make it to the ceremony but I'll be around for the reception," she promised. It would take a bit of time to get ready for it too. How was she to get ready if she had to go straight to the venue? She would have to iron out the details early morning.
"You couldn't have gotten in any earlier?" the Ootori muttered. It would have been nice to have someone to keep him sane during the shenanigans of this. Being the Best Man happened to be a lot more than what he had thought.
"Early morning meeting," Kiyoko responded. "You know how the Danes are about punctuality."
"I really do not," Kyouya answered truthfully. "I did not know you did business in Europe."
"The East is fascinated by the West and vice-versa," Kiyoko explained. She rescheduled all these damn meetings for the wedding. If she was going to make a trip to Europe, it was going to count. "I am just one of the many bridges."
"A wealthy bridge," the Ootori pointed out.
"Well, yes," she admitted plainly. "Couture is very expensive. Someone has to fund this lifestyle." Her tone was light. She often made jokes about living the way she did, as if she were a peasant overwhelmed by keeping up with the costs of their extravagant lifestyle. Surely, she wasn't going bankrupt, was she?
"You make it sound like you're a commoner," he observed.
"I'm closer to a commoner than most of your friends."
"Are you?" Kyouya scoffed in disbelief. He had seen the earnings of their family's corporation. She was far from what a commoner would be.
"I don't have daddy paying for Armani suits like you," Kiyoko snarled.
He paused, realizing that her tone was no longer joking. "You don't?"
"Why would I?" she shot back.
"That's unusual," the Ootori commented. "Why not?"
Kiyoko blinked. He was right. Kiyoko had access to the family funds but used it scarcely, especially after coming into her own money early into her gambling career. It was an act of defiance, out of principle when she declared that she would be the primary guardian of her brother. Kiyoko had enough to live comfortably as a commoner but not enough to live extravagantly as the rich. She adapted: consigning her designer clothes when they were no longer in season, travelling only when necessary (certainly not through first class), and carefully placed her money in safe investments only.
"For independence," she summarized swiftly. There was no need to answer his question with any further detail. She had hoped that the Ootori would not pry. A hard ask, considering how much the Ootori enjoyed surgically removing and analyzing every single piece of new information he extracted from her.
"I see," he responded. It was respectable but he would never outwardly admit it. It was enough for him to realize that the woman raked in much more wealth on her own accord than he had previously thought.
"Do you think plum would look nice?" she softly wondered, changing the topic back to what she originally called about.
"Hm?" The Ootori was not paying attention.
"The dress. Would it fit with your friend's colour scheme for the wedding? I packed a darker one too. And grey, yes, grey as well. I packed a lot," she rambled. "It's probably too much. I don't go to weddings," Kiyoko explained. Weddings were for people that were close or at least vaguely connected to the bride and groom. She did not have people around her getting married.
"Anything," Kyouya answered plainly. "Anything is fine."
"That is not a helpful answer," Kiyoko grumbled. Leave it up to men who did not care for such things.
"I am sure you would look beautiful in any of it," the Ootori tried again.
"That isn't what I'm asking," the woman rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her heart skipped a beat at his comment. "Where's the venue?" Perhaps she could tailor her outfit to what the venue looked like.
"Some… French estate," he couldn't quite remember off the top of his head. All he knew was that a car would be here to pick him up by 8 AM tomorrow. Far too early, if he had any say in any of it.
"Once again, unhelpful," Kiyoko groaned. She would have to take a look at the invitation again.
"Why does it matter?" Kyouya mused. "No one will be looking at you."
The woman blinked. Well, the man had a point. She was probably going to be unseen. Kiyoko was not sent the guest list and had very low expectations beyond showing her face, saying hello to the Suohs and then calling it a night.
"Except me," the man added lightly.
She made a noise of disgust. "Don't be daft, it's very unlike you."
"Merely speaking the truth," Kyouya replied without shame.
She refused to acknowledge the smile that danced on her lips. Goodness, she was acting like a schoolgirl. This was not acceptable, she thought to herself.
"Good night," Kiyoko bid him farewell before he could say anything more.
"Safe travels," he wished.
She should have hung up but instead hung a little longer on the line. "See you soon," her voice softened.
"Not soon enough," he whispered back.
Kiyoko blinked at the sight in front of her. It was a literal castle – not just a French estate that the Ootori mentioned in passing on the phone. A horse drawn carriage steadied in front of her after the car had dropped her off with a coachman who offered his hand to help her up.
"You're rather early." Guests were not expected to arrive for another two hours for the reception.
"No need, I have to settle to my room if that is alright," she politely responded with her luggage in tow behind her.
"Ah, an esteemed guest. Straight ahead then," the man gestured towards the wooden doors. "You will be led to the wing where the guests closest to the bride and groom are staying. When you are ready to attend the reception, please wait by the front doors."
Kiyoko pushed through the heavy double doors into a lobby with high ceilings, a classic chandelier, and double staircases. Nothing that was too impressive by the standards of the rich. Her bag was immediately taken away from her and a butler nodded at her presence. She took a peek at the dining and living areas before being whisked away to the stairs.
"Ms. Hibayashi," they greeted. Of course they would greet her by name, they must have known given that she was likely the last to arrive. "Please." He gestured towards the upper floor. She was led to her room with a card key, one of the only modern touches of the entire building. The doors opened to not a room, but an entire suite. A fresh bouquet of flowers was placed right by the entrance with the scent of honeysuckle wafting through the area. It was an entire wing with a balcony to the outdoors that overlooked the gardens.
She could hear the chattering and the bumbling of the catering staff and wedding planners, bustling about with the setup far down below. It felt like the calm before the storm. The view overlooked the fields of flowers and fountains that were painstakingly maintained and manicured. She could see hues of soft pinks and pastels, fresh flowers weaved together into a whole arch to the backdrop of another castle across an acre. She wasn't staying at the main chateau, but rather the guesthouse. No wonder why there was a need for a carriage. Christ, people were stupid rich.
Her phone vibrated to snap her out of the daze of amazement at the whole venue.
Have you arrived?
She responded with a quick yes to the damn overbearing Ootori.
Did you decide on what to wear?
Kiyoko groaned at the text. She had not. The venue had not helped one bit. She wondered what would have been appropriate. It was summer so she had to decide on something comfortable and breezy at least. Something to blend in, perhaps. Kiyoko mulled over the decision with a shower. The shower pressure had dug into her sore neck, the steam loosening the stiff muscles after travelling for the past few days. Kiyoko unpacked her toiletries, a whole grand collection in comparison to the Ootori's measly few bottles at the other end of the bathroom.
Kiyoko gathered her hair in a regular French updo, pinning the fly away strands while the bottom of her eyes rested beneath a mask. There was nothing to prove, was there? Kiyoko took her sweet time. She could dress however she wanted. No one would see her. No one was supposed to know her. There was no need to impress, not even if her grandmother had insisted that she represent her family.
Her shoes had been the deciding factor, a tasteful pointed leather stiletto embellished with gold leaves that crawled up the heel. A black dress to match with the shoes made of the finest silk. The red and white floral print against the black fabric was enough to brighten the entire piece for the summer, tying into the foliage detail of her shoes – if anyone had been keen enough to notice with her floor length dress.
While the carriage was over-the-top in every way imaginable, Kiyoko had to admit that it was a practical choice. Her shoes were not made for that half mile-long trek along the gravel road. The cocktail reception was outdoors riddled with plenty of places for photos and arches of fresh floral arrangements. Kiyoko could have sworn she saw live swans settling on patches of grass beneath the sun at every corner she peered. The doors to the ballroom of the chateau were open with seating for the dinner to begin at 7.
There were blurbs of French riddled in with Japanese as she walked past crowds of people she did not bother take time to recognize. Kiyoko had not expected to know anybody at the wedding until her ears piqued at the one phrase she heard more often than not.
"Is that her? That's the Hibayashi, no?"
Kiyoko delicately picked up a glass of champagne and kept her back turned towards the voice. She thanked the server politely and focused her attention towards the carefully trimmed hedge before looking occupied with her phone.
"How did she mangle an invite to something as exclusive as this?"
"Cozying up to the Ootori, of course. Hospital management and psychiatric care are intertwined, I suppose."
"The Ootori wouldn't stoop to that level. Doesn't she know not to wear black to a wedding?"
Kiyoko rolled her eyes. Her dress wasn't entirely black. And besides, it was more faux-pas for those two women to be wearing something closer to white no matter how off-cream they claimed their dresses were.
"He could do so much better than that."
"Oh, certainly. What would an art curator do for him, anyway?"
Kiyoko chose this moment to turn around. She looked the woman in the eye and made sure to look deep into the pupils of the stranger, cautioning them to tread carefully. She stepped closer to the pair while making sure her heels echoed behind her trail. Kiyoko glared with enough force that the two women stiffened when she came close enough to greet them.
"Have we met?" Kiyoko's voice took them off-guard. It was deeper than they remembered – if anything, this was their first time hearing her speak. Her dark drawl was enough to command a room.
"No," they shook their head. "We have not."
"You speak as though we have," the art curator lightly reminded. "I'll ask again: have we met?" Kiyoko was not nice about it this time.
"We were in the same class," one of the blurted out. "I moved to Lobelia after the first year. Saki stayed behind." The women smiled nervously. "Your dress is beautiful though," the other one tried to change the topic.
"I apologize," Kiyoko bowed her head slightly out of politeness. "I do not recall either of you," her tone was far from apologetic – sharp as a knife that only heightened the tension between all three. Kiyoko stared down at the two, squinting her eyes at both of their faces to commit them to memory. The discomfort was enough for both ladies to shuffle themselves away after being reminded that this woman was not someone to take lightly. Kiyoko struck fear into both their bones with only a handful of minutes.
She sighed at the headache beginning to form. She was naïve to think she would grow unnoticed in this crowd of guests. Of course – these idiots were all consumed in the bubble of Ouran, even after more a decade. People recognized her as the Hibayashi. Some knew her as the art curator. Others were here for the clout. And of course, people cared about the Ootori and who he mingled with. It was going to be a long night.
Kiyoko furrowed her brows at the faces that mingled about as she stayed closer to the perimeter of the gardens. Most were strangers to her – Kiyoko only made an effort to mingle when she knew there was a business opportunity. Her grandmother had a point in having her show her face but was there really any hope in saving their reputation from the ashes of embarrassment over decades?
Kiyoko eventually seated herself at the table near the edge of the exit, far from the bride and groom. Well, at least she could leave after the meal was done. Kyouya was nowhere to be found from her view – Best Man duties seemed to have kept him busy. A French brunette seated herself beside Kiyoko with her partner. The rest of the table trickled in, all very clearly part of Tamaki's side as they were distinctly European and speaking in French.
The stranger turned to the only Japanese person at the table and spoke in the language that she assumed would be the most comfortable in.
"Konbawa," she greeted in Japanese without an accent.
"Bon soirée," Kiyoko answered in French, also without an accent.
The two women stared at each other. "How about we speak in English?" Kiyoko suggested in her British lilt, trying to dissipate the awkwardness.
"I could do that," they answered with a smile. "How do you know the bride and groom?"
Kiyoko stared at the couple from afar. "I don't," she answered honestly. "How about you?"
"I'm close with Tamaki's mother."
"I see," Kiyoko nodded in understanding. She could spot the rest of the Host Club gathering at a table near the front. The Ootori was still nowhere to be seen.
"What do you do?" The small talk was unbearable but Kiyoko did her best to seem engaged. After all, this entire table seemed to have no clue who she was. A fresh start would be nice after her encounter earlier.
"Art curator," the woman answered. "And you?"
"Éclair Tonnerre of the Grand Tonnerre Group," she responded.
Kiyoko recognized the name. What a ridiculously small world it was with the rich. "Do you know Christophe?"
"Christophe is my cousin," Éclair raised an eyebrow. "How do you know of him?"
"Tell him he still owes me a favour," Kiyoko rolled her eyes. "And hello, of course. We went to school together."
"Ah, a small world," she laughed. "Last I heard, he worked up quite a love for poker during these years."
"He's still at it?" Kiyoko was unsurprised. The trust fund was plenty but not for a guy like him. "Well, he is world-ranked," she added.
Éclair huffed. "Tell him to start upholding some of our family business, wouldn't you? The real estate sector is holding on by a thread with his father ready to retire soon."
"You don't tell someone like him what to do," Kiyoko shrugged. "When he's ready, he'll come to you."
"You really do know him, then," the French woman nodded. "How did he become acquaintances with an art curator like you? He's an uncultured swine."
Kiyoko laughed. "That uncultured swine helped me start my fortune."
"Ah, you were part of those kids. The one with Eugene, Alvin, and Leo."
"Oh goodness, you have met quite a few of us then!"
It was a pleasant dinner with these French strangers. Éclair took her through the history of the French side of the Suohs in passing, pointing out some of the Europeans of high dollar value in conversation (some of which were seated right across from her). The rest of the table had been quite interested in Kiyoko's business after she name-dropped some high-profile Scandinavian contemporary artists. The 5-course meal went by faster over the two and a half hours, especially without the prejudice of her family history. Kiyoko was not a Hibayashi – she was just herself. It was refreshing.
Eventually, the Suohs found themselves at their table, the last one, as they made rounds across the room. Éclair greeted the Suohs in their typical French manner while Kiyoko bowed politely, staying true to her Japanese roots.
"Oh! You must be Kiyoko," Tamaki gushed. "It is so lovely to meet you."
"We are very happy you made it," Haruhi continued. "So sorry about the seating, it was last minute – my father, you see, he insisted on sitting with Kyo—"
Kiyoko gently laid a hand on Haruhi's arm and nodded to her in understanding. There was no need for an explanation for such a thing. It was their wedding and quite frankly, Kiyoko had a better time than expected, away from the negative attention of the Japanese. The anonymity of mingling with the French served her better than anything else.
"Thank you for inviting me," Kiyoko gently cut her off. "You are absolutely stunning," her voice softened.
Haruhi relaxed visibly, sighing out of relief. "Thank you. As are you," the woman beamed. "I really wish I had more time to—"
"—It's time to dance, love!" Tamaki called to her.
Kiyoko shook her head. "No need. Please, go on," she urged the bride to go to her husband with a smile. Admittedly, they were a beautiful couple. The love between them was genuine even to the most cynical. How could it not have been celebrated? Kiyoko took a quick swipe at the croquembouche tower, fitting a ball of pastry in her mouth before sneaking away into the outdoors with her bag of drageés she planned to snack on.
To her dismay, the outdoor garden was transformed from the cocktail party to an outdoor venue of dancing. Lights were strewn along the hedges, floral archways were taken away and replaced with champagne towers and intricate stations for dessert. Swans were no longer present, thank goodness. While Kiyoko had thought she could head out from the event, the guests began swarming from the inside to the outdoors. They surrounded the glass floor that had been installed during dinner for the bride and groom to have their first dance. A whole string quartet began playing a waltz for the couple. As the rest of the crowd was distracted, Kiyoko decided it was right to begin her escape. She quickly ran behind the hedges towards the mile-long stretch of the gravel road back to the guest house.
"Not so fast," the Ootori caught her arm. "I knew you'd try leaving early."
Kiyoko turned to face the Ootori. She hadn't seen him all day, or really, for the past two weeks. Kyouya had been busy with his duties with the wedding.
"You invited me to this wedding and now you show?" Kiyoko snapped. She didn't think she would be angry, but the burst of emotions ran through her faster than she could mask them. She never thought she would miss him as much as she did today, thrown into this whole tsunami tide of strangers. She had hoped that he would at least come say hello before the dinner.
"I'm sorry—" he sighed. "Tamaki had me running around with his stupid dog that went missing in the morning and goddamn Ranka—"
Kiyoko pulled her arm away from Kyouya and crossed them over her chest. He stopped talking when he saw the look on her face, her eyes furrowed with irritancy. His eyes faltered, pleading with her to just listen. He understood why she was upset, and reasonably so. The Ootori had hoped that she would understand his point of view too.
She did a once over at him, from the top of his head with hair mussed from running around and his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. Wherever his suit jacket was, it was discarded ages ago without a care, along with his tie. Kyouya looked disheveled and absolutely exhausted but his eyes told her he was not lying. It had been a long day for him – more so for him than her, that was for sure.
Kiyoko shook her head and sighed, relenting. Her grandmother would have scolded her for being so weak as she slowly opened up her arms to bring him in, only after a few seconds of that pout he gave her. It felt so natural, so easy to let the man bury his face in her neck and breathe her in like he had been drowning without her.
His arms held her firmly around her waist, the bare skin of her lower back peeking through her dress under his fingertips. Kiyoko would never have admitted that she craved his touch, his fingers running along her bare skin was one of her favourite feelings. She loved the way he was so soft with her, his delicate touches paired with his firm grip around her waist. Kiyoko felt safe between his arms. She inhaled his scent, pressing a tender kiss to his jaw with her arms around his neck. She held him for as long as he needed to get his wits back together. Kiyoko let him pull away from her first but not without keeping his grip around her waist.
"I've missed you," he quietly confessed. It had been so long since he had been with her. Fuck, he was like a lovesick fool. The kind that Tamaki would always be going off about.
"Me too," she answered softly while she tried to straighten out some of his hair. He wanted to capture her in this moment, the way her lips had parted as she concentrated on making him look presentable again. She painted them in a shade of pink that faded into her natural nude tone. Her eyes, goodness, those eyes when they were so soft and pure - he was so lucky to see them in that light, not in the usual hardened dark orbs that screamed murderous rage. Her hair was perfectly pinned until he had ruined it and only he had the privilege of doing so. He smirked at the thought.
"Let's dance," Kyouya pushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. He wanted the world to see her in this lighting – warm and soft beneath the stars, her lips beautiful and plush as she looked up at him with those doe eyes of hers. He wanted to tell the world that he was hers and only hers. He kissed her beneath the lights behind the green hedges of ivy. She stumbled backward at the force of him tumbling towards her, desperate and needy – after all, it had been weeks since he had been able to hold her like this. She tasted like powdered sugar, probably from the croquembouche and smelled like a tidal wave of peonies. Kiyoko smiled into the kiss and pulled away, despite missing him equally.
She shyly shook her head, refusing the idea immediately. "I don't think people want to see me with you."
"Since when do you care what people think?" he scoffed.
"I worry for you, not me," she tried again.
"There's nothing to worry about," he softly murmured. "I'm an Ootori."
"And I'm a Hibayashi," Kiyoko countered. "We come from polar opposite standings of the rich." Today was a good reminder of that. "People think you can do better."
"Do you think that?" he softly asked, noting the way she looked at him in sorrow. He wished he could take that away from her. Was that what she had felt the whole day? Why didn't she say anything?
She could only nod solemnly. It was not like her to let the words of strangers irk her – not after years of enduring it. But how could she deny the truth? The whole world could see that the Ootori was not made for a woman like her.
"You're not just a Hibayashi," Kyouya shook his head at her. "You held up against the Tonnerres during the entire dinner."
"They didn't know who I was," she shrugged.
"Everyone knows who you are, Kiyoko," Kyouya rolled his eyes. "Give yourself more credit."
"Then all the more reason not to be seen with me," she frowned. "What can an art curator do for you?" she repeated the phrase she heard earlier today to him.
"You can give me the honour of dancing with you," Kyouya shot back with a smirk, refusing to let go. "Please," he added with a tug on her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Just one dance."
Kiyoko's frown deepened. "What if people—"
"I don't care," he growled. "If they have a problem, they can go fuck themselves."
She nearly laughed at that. Kiyoko could not decide if she wanted to laugh or to kiss him for being so insistent on such a silly thing. All this for a dance? Really? She bit her lip. The Ootori was a stubborn prick. But her heart told her to reconsider his proposal. Was it so bad to just dance with him? To enjoy the wedding for what it was? To indulge, just for a moment? A celebration of love for his friends. A night where she could forget about being tied to her family and do business as just Kiyoko. A night with him.
"One dance," she finally compromised. "And then we leave," Kiyoko ordered sternly. The Ootori smiled and tugged her by the hand to lead her back to the crowd of wedding guests.
He proudly walked alongside Kiyoko, refusing to let her go even when she was held up by a business associate she quickly said hello to along the way to the glass floor. Kiyoko's network seemed to have popped up in the oddest of places. They weaved their way across the mounds of people, avoiding more polite greetings so they could be alone, or as alone they could be in the midst of the public.
"It's not like you to be so shy," Kyouya commented when she ducked her head down to look at their feet. He did not mind it. It was a new side that he had not seen much of, especially with a crowd. Kiyoko was usually quick to send daggers across the entire room with her eyes, or even literal daggers if they had presented themselves. One would know not to provoke a woman like her.
Kiyoko found the stares they received disconcerting. The judgement she usually bore on her own shoulders had now been on the man who held her by his side. She was not used to a kind of partnership, not when she took most if not all of the scrutiny over the years. It made her feel guilty for subjecting him to it.
"I don't like how people are looking at you," Kiyoko admitted.
"Jealous?" he smirked.
"They aren't looking at you with admiration, Kyouya. They're judging you for your choices," Kiyoko sighed. She had warned him about it and he refused to listen. She was the choice he made and it was clear that much of the public had disapproved of it.
Instead, the Ootori looked around and smiled like he had won the game of manipulating the entire crowd. "So they are jealous of you," he smiled.
"No," Kiyoko groaned. "Gosh, you're so difficult. Why aren't you listening to me?"
His eyes softened at her. "Why are you looking at them? Look at me," he told her. It was such a simple solution, no?
"You're not that pretty to look at," she snapped back. It was a lie and he knew it. He only laughed. The rumble of his laughter made her smile and she had to look away to refuse to acknowledge his own triumph over her.
They swayed from side to side to the smooth jazz until Kiyoko finally worked up the courage to stop looking around and to look at him instead. He smiled at her. In fact, he smiled at her a lot. For a long while, she teased him about his face being broken when he did so. But she wondered if she looked like him, mirroring those wide eyes with a grin on her own face. Was her own face broken, or was she just not used to feeling happiness?
"Your friends," she started off quietly. "They're so genuinely in love," Kiyoko sighed to herself. She stole glances of them over the course of dinner, watching as they looked at each other as if they were in on a secret. The whole world could see that they were in love.
"They are," the Ootori agreed with a nod.
"I'm really happy for them."
"I'm glad," he softly responded. "I am too." Even though Tamaki had him running around like a headless chicken all day.
Kiyoko paused wondering why she had wanted to blurt that out. She gazed up at him, her heart fonder of him more than she had ever been. She had wanted to protect him from all of the disapproving glares, from the judgement that she had encountered from their small bubble of the rich. It did not feel fair for him to bear all of that because of her. But instead, he stood and protected her instead – letting the stares roll off his back with pride. He was focused on her, and only her. Kyouya watched her think aloud, holding onto her every word. Slowly, she had let him watch her voice her thoughts and it was a privilege every time she did so.
"I want you to have what they have," she confessed to him. "That kind of genuine love," Kiyoko insisted. "That happiness that you can share with a partner for the rest of your life. They made it look so easy," Kiyoko thought out loud.
She leaned against him, placing her head against his chest. He kissed the crown of her head, welcoming the weight against him. She breathed him in and relaxed against his body. Her arms clung onto his back, keeping him close as she closed her eyes and ignored the rest of the world. For the first time in weeks, she felt at peace and it happened to be in the arms of the man who had insisted that they danced under the moonlight. How ridiculous of a man he was when he was so persistent (and still persisted) in understanding her for all that she had to offer.
"Do we not have that?" he whispered in her ear, his voice hopeful.
"Hm?" Kiyoko had been distracted by the smooth jazz in the background.
"That kind of genuine love," Kyouya repeated quietly.
She tensed at the thought of it. He felt her shoulders stiffen and immediately ran a hand against her back to soothe her. He held her close, almost fearing that she would run away. What made her so afraid when he was already hers? He kept her in his arms, planting another kiss to her temple while still swaying to the beat of the music.
"Do you want that?" he asked, tilting his head to look her in the eye. Kiyoko looked up at him with confusion.
Her throat went dry. Did she want that? Was that ever a possibility for her? To be selfish like this, to want something that was meant to be fleeting and temporary… to turn it into something lifelong and permanent?
"It could be so easy," Kyouya offered.
Would it, really? Kiyoko had never seen love like the Suohs unless it was in fiction. It seemed too good to be true. Everything good was too good to be true.
"Be my wife."