bored411: Thank you so much!
bbymojo: I love slow burns but sometimes I just want them to KISS ALREADY. lol Thank you!
Nana-san14: I love the mental image of Kyoya friggin Ootori of all people saying "Haters gonna hate" lol.
Ale250496: Honestly the worst type of people to me are the ones who criticize and insult people when they didn't do anything wrong or hurt anyone. I agree.
Nina 9802: Absolutely! Kyoya meant every word that he said but he was definitely remembering how he was to Kosuke at first.
Mili San Luis: One of the things I loved about Ouran is that the characters were likable and believable but also quirky as hell. So I like writing Kosuke as this kind and thoughtful person who is also just bizarrely obsessed with culinary arts lol. Thank you!
Gilmore: Thank you!
Amaya should not matter that much. Really, in the grand scale of all Kyoya's problems, she is just a grain. A morsel. A mote. She must have come to the same conclusion, because she does her best to remind him of her existence every chance she gets.
She does this in ways only Kyoya can see. Brushing against him in the hall and apologizing profusely, ensuring she is never more than one seat away from him in class…Her recurring favorite is still waiting until Kyoya is about to pick something up, then doing the same so their hands graze.
Kyoya is not scared of her because her intentions are clearly not sinister.
But that—the fact that he knows what her intentions are not but not what they are—is why he is now rather uncomfortable.
He cannot come up with any theory that speaks favorably of her. She could just want a white flag, and if he were to "admit" that he is in love with her and was too proud to admit it, she'd leave him be.
In that case, then—Well, first of all, that's never going to happen. Secondly, it would make all the times he called her "obsessed" in his head naïve, using the word as exaggeration when it was not. To change schools, to move countries, just because you want them to give up their heart to you, when you have no want for it…Does that not sound disturbing?
Perhaps what disturbs Kyoya the most, especially considering her self-made rivalry with Kosuke, is that this seems like more than a little game to her. She doesn't just want him to admit to a crush on her; she wants him to crawl on his hands and knees. If this was nothing to her, she would have ignored Kosuke entirely.
Actually, no, what disturbs him the most is that it seems like Amaya is expecting him to be besotted with her for no reason. She has done him no kindness, and she does not speak to him outside of her siren calls. She believes that by merely existing, she will pull her to him like gravity. Kyoya has met proud people in his life, but he doesn't know why she needs him to love her when she clearly loves herself more than any man could.
But of course, her role in his life is still minimal. Despite what she may think, his life has not slowed down on her behalf.
Even so, when a fellow student approaches him after class with an embossed letter inviting him to the Sawajiri Theater, he is disappointed in himself for not putting two and two together then and there.
His ignores it at first—he is on his way to work, and in his mind has already stepped into his office. But no, he can't. This isn't a mere flyer being passed out to anyone; it was hand-delivered to him and whoever had sent it will be gravely offended if he does not attend.
He sets off for the Theater, however reluctantly, and on his way he spots Kosuke. He thinks nothing of it at first—they'd crossed paths on campus too many times to count now—but then he sees what she's holding and regarding so intensely it's a miracle she hasn't crashed into someone already.
He comes to her, and his footsteps make her look up. She smiles, because that's what they have to do—even when they don't say anything, they must smile at each other so people "know" they're in love.
"I see you've got one, too."
He holds up his invitation, and she does the same. "Someone gave it to me earlier today. Do you know what this is about?"
"Not at all. The Sawajiri Theater is a peculiar place for a meeting."
"Why's that?"
He almost answers, but sees the doors are already in view. The building is as pink-hued and grandiose as every other on campus, so if Kosuke hasn't been inside yet, he won't blame her for thinking it was just another academic building.
Once they enter, however, Kosuke's head falls backwards—the typical reaction. Kyoya remembers a quote from the architect: "The world is a stage, but the stage should be a world." Hence why the Sawajiri Theater is one of the largest in Japan, filled not only with opera boxes and chandeliers and hills of seats, all bound in gold and velvet, but also a high ceiling that bears a fresco painting of angels and cherubs in the heavens. The theater was the most expensive building to construct on the Ouran campus, for good reason.
Kosuke is gawking at it so much she walks right into a row of seats. She spots what Kyoya already has: a crowd of people, tiny in the front seats. "Not just us, I guess."
As they come closer to the crowd, Kyoya has a realization, and says as much: "Not only not just us."
Kaoru is the first to notice their approach, by his head dangling off the armrest of the aisle seat. He and Hikaru are both sprawled out, looking halfway between life and death. Even their unison greeting of, "Oh, hey," sounds void of soul.
What they lack in welcome, Tamaki more than makes up for—standing up so fast all eyes follow him. "Kosuke! Kyoya! You were invited, too?"
"I guess so?" Kosuke gives her card another look, as she's been doing repeatedly, as though more text will magically appear on it.
"Whatever we're here for, I don't appreciate being flagged down out of nowhere," sniffs Renge. She's one of the few sitting in the front row, and doesn't even look back at them. "I'm supposed to be working on the script for Chaotik Sweethearts 3 right now. I'm already getting adaptation offers and I haven't even started—I can't do curveballs in my schedule!"
Kyoya does not sit; does not even set his briefcase down. "Do any of you know what's going on?"
"No idea," says Yoshiko Nakano (second-youngest daughter of the Nakano family), whom Kyoya is not familiar with but is fairly certain is in Kosuke's cooking class. They had waved and smiled to each other when Kosuke came in, alongside Benjiro Miike and Rika Hirosue. At least half the crowd consists of familiar faces. "Some girl outside of my class just gave me a card that said to come here."
"It's very strange," says Tamaki, tapping his finger on his chin. "I wonder why we were sought out specifically?"
"Were we?" asks Benjiro. "Maybe it was random."
"No," sighs Kyoya. He pushes up his glasses and takes a seat at last. Looks like I'm not getting out of this. "My letter wasn't for the first person who left my classroom, it was for me specifically."
There's a murmur of agreement; similar experiences. Hikaru stretches out over his three seats so much that the cracking of his joints echo through the room. "Well, whoever invited us here, they'd better chop-chop."
Kaoru reaches down and grabs a bookbag to use as a pillow. Specifically, Kosuke's bookbag, to which she clicks her tongue. "Seriously. Who invites a whole group of people somewhere and isn't even there to meet them?"
Then, right on cue—perhaps literally—the thick velvet curtain on the stage begins to rise. Tamaki eagerly dives for his seat, Hikaru and Kaoru reluctantly pull themselves upright (Kaoru returning Kosuke's bookbag without apology), and the others exchange quiet looks of both confusion and interest, apprehension but excitement.
From his peripheral vision, Kyoya sees Kosuke's head snake back on her shoulders. If Kyoya recalls correctly (and he usually does), theater performances at Ouran can have budgets upwards of a million yen for props alone. Though the arts are not of particular interest to Kyoya, he can admire hard work. The stage is filled with such great detail—a fireplace with burnt logs, a four-poster bed with layers of satin and silk, a bookshelf filled to burst, all contained within patterned walls and an open window—it looks as though a room was ripped from some a castle and deposited right onto the floor.
The costumes are nothing to sneer at, either. In the midst of the bedroom stand Suzume Takagi (heiress of the Takagi Technology corporation) and Haruhiko Anzai (second son of the Anzai family, owners of the Cinderella shoestore chain) royalty in the flesh. Suzume's midnight-blue dress, draped atop a hoop, has enough ribbons to fill a fabric store, and she seems to be wearing an actual corset beneath. She had given Kyoya his invitation, so she must have set a record with how fast she changed into costume. Haruhiko, meanwhile, sports a velvet tailcoat with a matching top hat and a pocket watch undoubtedly made of real gold. It's a bit of an anachronistic look—not quite Elizabethan, not quite Victorian. A bit of fairytale, a bit of reality.
Kyoya would perhaps be more interested in this unique costume design if he had any idea what was going on.
"Hello, everyone!" Suzume sings. "We're so happy that you came today! We hope this isn't an inconvenience for anyone."
Tamaki is the only one to speak, a delighted, "Not at all!" Kyoya smiles to be polite, and Kosuke does the same—but no matter what they're all doing, the cloud of confusion hangs as thick as ever.
"So you're probably all wondering what you're doing here now," says Haruhiko, tugging at the silk tie under his collar. The costumes must be at least ten layers thick. "We have invited you all here today to take part in our workshop!"
Hikaru and Kaoru exchange the same murmured parrot of "Workshop?" Suzume's voice drowns them out, though, not skipping a beat. "Let us explain!"
Haruhiko picks up from there. "So you may be aware of this, but each year here at Ouran, the theater students perform an original production written by one of its own!"
"You probably remember some past productions. The Sun Princess, Night of Red Moon, Siren on the Sea…"
"It's very competitive, and soon our board will be reviewing submissions!"
"And our submission is a little play called Love and Loss."
"It's a tragedy about just that! Love and loss! Romance and heartbreak!" Haruhiko declares this in a high, crying voice and a hand over his heart, pure thespian.
"So here is what we'd like for you all to do, if you have the time. We're going to perform a scene from our play, and we'd love to hear your feedback!"
Benjiro and Rika give delighted exclamations, and Tamaki is already applauding. Renge just takes out her notepad without a word, murmuring something about "her genius being taken advantage of again." Kosuke whispers, "All of this for a play that may not even happen?" to no one in particular.
Kyoya counts the seconds—one…five…ten…No dice. No one leaves, no one says that they're busy and won't be able to stay. It'd only be him.
It's one scene, he tells himself with a sigh. He folds one leg over the other, crosses his arms, and tries to make himself comfortable. It's not the end of the world.
"It sounds like everyone is in!" Suzume does a little happy dance. "Great! Now, we have another cast member with us, but he's still getting dressed."
From backstage, a voice calls, "Thank you for coming!" This gets a few laughs.
Haruhiko (tugging at his tie again) says, "But before we get started, we need to introduce you to our writer!"
They both sweep their arms to the right of the stage, and out comes—
Oh no.
"Hello, everyone!" Amaya waves at them all with both hands, smiling ear-to-hear and brighter than the spotlights. She's wearing a red beret atop her smooth dark hair—impossible to tell if it was to look more like an ar-teest, or to just pair with her red heels. Maybe both. "Thank you all for coming! I really appreciate it!"
The majority of the audience does nothing but smile and wave, blissfully unaware. Only a sparse few know the danger that just walked onto the stage. Tamaki's head turns as though he wants to look back at Kyoya. The twins bristle like cats. Kosuke's hands go from her lap to her armrest as though she's about to launch herself forward.
Kyoya, meanwhile, does nothing. Because there isn't going to be a scene until he makes one, because that's how crafty Amaya is. She sweeps her eyes over her audience, and Kyoya sees how her gaze lingers on him for just a fraction longer.
Yoshiko exclaims, "Amaya, I had no idea you did theater, too!"
"Oh, well!" Amaya tosses her straight ponytail over her shoulder. "I decided to take it for fun this semester. Though I have dabbled in it before! At my previous school, I played the lead in every performance for three years straight. That landed me several awards from the College Arts Ambassadors, the Young Theater Awards, the Rising Star Accolades…Adeline Descoteaux—you know, creator of the opera By the Light of the Aurora, one of the highest-grossing operas of all time?—came to one performance and found me backstage afterwards to offer me a part in her next production! I was amazed! I would have accepted under any other circumstances, but I had so many other responsibilities…"
While Hikaru makes a show of staring at his wristwatch, and Kosuke blinks so slow she's probably at one per minute, Kyoya tries to think. Maybe he could fake an emergency? Pretend that he had to leave then and there?
"I decided to try my hand in writing this year! Now, my peers have all written some commendable pieces, but I must say I'm rather confident that Love and Loss has a strong chance!"
"It's so amazing!" Suzume clasps her hands to the audience, pleading for them to understand. "One scene doesn't even do it justice!"
Benjiro's eyebrows have shot up to his hairline. "Amaya, how do you manage to do so much?"
"A careful schedule and lots of passion! I could give you pointers for time management, if you like. At my previous school I led a yearly seminar for incoming first-years all about time management and staying on top of your studies. The school reported a healthier academic attitude from all students after just the first month! Oh, I wonder if I can do that here, too…?"
A hand rises up from the seats, and Amaya's smile shifts at Kaoru. Not as sugary, a bit smug. Kyoya knows exactly why, now, because not long ago he had stopped them in the halls—their first interaction in some time—to ask about Amaya's behavior at the culinary arts kitchen. What followed was a ten-minute tirade (after stepping into an empty classroom) about how Amaya was a smug, catty little snake trying to dethrone Kosuke for no reason, Trouble with a capital T, "someone to keep an eye on." Discovering that she was that Amaya also put more fuel to the inferno.
"Yes?" Amaya taps a finger on the corner of her mouth. "Hikaru, was it?"
"Kaoru, actually." His hand falls back into his lap with an audible plop. "So what is Losing Love about?"
"Love and Loss, actually. It's a romantic tragedy. William Shakespeare was a great influence! The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet and romantic complications of Twelfth Night particularly came to mind when I wrote this. Marie de France, too! Imagine Romeo and Juliet mixed with Lanval and that's what Love and Loss is!"
Kaoru makes no sign of understanding—just a long look at Hikaru, Kyoya, and Kosuke that silently drones, That does not answer my question.
Hikaru raises his hand next.
"Yes, Kaoru? Oh, no, you just told me! Hikaru."
"Right. So I know you need feedback for Losing Love—"
"Love and Loss."
"—yeah, that…but why ask for us, specifically?"
Surely Hikaru knows that she won't answer that question honestly, but Kyoya too is interested to hear her defense. Amaya, as expected, doesn't bat an eye.
"I needed students who I know come from diverse disciplines of study! Love and Loss isn't just for fans of theater, it's for everyone! So I need perspective from everyone."
Hikaru doesn't respond to this, either. There are no further questions—the only sound being Renge's pen flitting across her paper, which does manage to make Amaya's smile break into a quizzical look for a moment—so finally the writer declares, "Now, I think we should get started! I don't want to take up too much of anyone's time."
While Suzume and Haruhiko make the finishing touches on stage, and Amaya pulls her rolled-up script from her back pocket, Kosuke leans to Kyoya—very close, being in a crowd, close enough for a length of blonde hair to brush against his sleeve—and breathes more than whispers, "Do you want to leave?"
It's much appreciated—especially because she isn't saying "Can I leave?" but genuinely asking for him.
Unfortunately: "She's not going to let us without making a scene."
Kosuke lets out a quiet sigh of surrender. The house lights begin to dim, casting them into darkness, while those on stage shift. Suzume and Haruhiko have taken their places, looking prepared…and then not.
Amaya had disappeared offstage for only a moment. Then she's right back with her heels echoing throughout the entire theater and calling, "Where's Dai?"
Suzume and Haruhiko look left and right. "We thought he was backstage?"
"Hold on, let me see…" Amaya pulls out her phone, tsk-tsking. Then she gasps. "Oh, no!"
"What is it?"
"I hit the wrong button! I texted Dai to come on September 19th instead of September 18th!"
"Uh-oh." Suzume glances sideways at their awaiting audience. Kyoya doesn't envy them at the moment. "What should we do?"
"Well, we have to have someone play Dai. And it can't be you or Haruhiko because you interact with his character!"
"What about you? Could you stand in for him?"
"I'm taking care of the cues backstage, I can't!"
"Oh, dear…oh, dear…" Haruhiko starts pacing in circles. "Should we call around? See who can make it?"
While this is all happening, students in the seats do their best to respectfully ignore what's under spotlights before them. Kyoya does his best not to look hopeful.
"Alright, alright…" If her intent is to have the audience at the edge of their seats, Amaya succeeds when she comes so close to the end of the stage that her toes peek over. She clasps her hands and holds them up under her chin. "This is so, so unprofessional, and I apologize so much, but…Could I ask someone to please read some lines for us?"
"I will!" Tamaki shoots up out of his chair, hand raised so fast he almost swipes the student next to him. "Please, allow me!"
Just like that, desperation turns to dissatisfaction. "You don't exactly fit the part…"
Tamaki sits back down, thoroughly disappointed, and Hikaru mumbles, "Choosing beggar." Amaya unrolls her script again, flicking a finger on the dramatis personae. "The role we need to fill in is someone 'tall, dark, handsome, and bespectacled.'"
Then the spotlight isn't just on the stage.
God. Damn it.
Kyoya keeps his eyes firmly on the seat in front of him, because otherwise he's going to have too many faces to look back at. Most expectantly—one very, very expectantly.
"Oh, Kyoya!" Amaya exclaims, as if she hadn't literally invited him here. "You would be absolutely perfect for the part!"
Kyoya has exactly one bullet in his chamber: "I'm flattered, but I don't have much experience in the theater, I'm afraid."
"Oh, there's none needed! All you have to do is read lines from the script. This is more about the writing than the performance."
If that's 'all,' then why does it have to be me?
The student in front of him (Kyoya knows who he is and who is family is, he just doesn't care right now) turns around, all smiles. "I'm sure you'll be just fine at it, Kyoya!"
Who asked you?
"It's just reading aloud, right?" says another student, identity just as unimportant. "It sounds easy!"
Did I imply I find reading to be hard?
"Please, Kyoya?" Amaya clasps her hands even tighter, certainly cutting off blood flow. "You'd be doing us such a favor!"
Inside, he is fuming.
Fuming that he's missing work time for this asinine nonsense, that he's the only one who can see what's going on here, that Amaya had him and everyone fooled, saying she'd "accidentally" sent her actor the wrong date.
Fuming that Amaya knows full and well that she's giving him the choice between being the good guy or the bad guy.
Of course, he doesn't let any of this show. He pauses, thinking about it. He's doing so many things at once: schooling his face, containing every dark feeling in his chest, ignoring Kosuke's worried stare into him. But Kyoya has always been a multitasker, anyway.
"Very well."
There's applause, some hands slower than others, while the actors sigh in relief and Amaya smiles in delight and victory. "Fantastic! Suzume, you help him get ready!"
Get ready? Suzume disappears behind the curtains, then reappears at the door beside the stage, beckoning him closer. Of course, she had to put on all the stage makeup and ten layers of clothing somewhere.
Kyoya asks as lightly as he can, "Is that really necessary for some line reading?"
"Well, we can't have you looking so out of place on stage! It'll bring the audience out of the moment."
Kyoya wonders—really wonders, with childlike awe—how no one else can see how nonsensical it is. His looks matter but his acting doesn't, it's just line-reading but requires costuming…He sincerely hopes that the students aren't so daft that they can't see what's going on here.
If only you'd just gone to work,he thinks to himself as he follows Suzume into the darkness, instantly enveloped by the smell of powder. Then he thinks, No. You were doomed the second you stepped out of class.
While the door closes behind him, Kyoya takes one last pitying look at the crowd of fools. With exceptions: Tamaki's apprehension is pouring rivers out of his eyes, the twins are utterly split between delight and frustration.
Kosuke leans forward as the door slides shut, trying to keep her eyes on him for as long as possible—waiting for him to give her a sign, to ask for help. He pities her, too, for not yet realizing that it just doesn't work that way. Though, once she's out of sight, he regrets that he didn't at least sign that he was going to be okay.
Kyoya is not okay.
Nothing about this situation is okay.
At least when the curtains were down, he could bask in his misery within the darkness; but once they rise, all Kyoya can see is bright lights and endless seats and expectant faces. He tries to calculate if the fall from the stage to the floor would be enough to kill him.
This ridiculous, ludicrous situation was already a joke, but now? Now Kyoya is dressed as fantastically as the rest of them, in a shirt with long, flowing sleeves, a velvet cape tied around his neck by a gold chain, and trousers that go up to his navel.
Before, Tamaki had been fretting his heart out over him, and now he's entranced by him. Before, the twins were caught between grumbling and laughing, and the scale had tipped to the latter—now they looked like they could not breathe, and a few others glanced around at the honking sounds that slipped from their lips.
So he turns to Kosuke, fully expecting that she'd be more sympathetic. Even if she was refusing to look at him, hiding her face from secondhand embarrassment, he'd completely understand.
What does she do instead?
She takes out her phone and sneaks a picture of him.
And grins.
The good thing about the lights being so bright is that Kyoya's thousand-dagger glare just looks like he's squinting.
"Alright, everyone." Amaya's voice carries in from somewhere in the great dark beyond backstage. "In three, two, one…"
Suzume, now 'Jacqueline Ostergard,' snaps her feathered fan open and bats it at her face as she trills in a high, posh voice: "My son, sit still and lend your ear—listen rapt and listen clear. Your father and I are in disarray, a quarrel only quelled by what you say!"
"Your mother has a tender heart, but one in which logic has no part!" 'Lord Yorick Ostergard' sticks his nose high into the air. "So caught up in her fretful throes, she means to say that you are slow!"
"Don't you dare imply that those words are mine!"
"Did you not say he had no spine?"
Well, I certainly see what Marie de France had to do with this, Kyoya thinks. He takes another look out and sees that the watching eyes are flickering up and down and up again. Someone had handed out copies of the script while he was getting dressed. To better critique the writing, he assumes. Renge is scribbling all over hers.
"Listen, dear. Listen, here!" Suzume bats her fan for either Kyoya's or her son's attention; it's hard to say. "Hear what we have to attest, and then we'll lay this all to rest."
"Your mother is under the fool's pretense that this wedding is at your expense. She says your heart is with Aurora still—always has been, and always will. Your marriage to Katherine, says she, will bind you to a life of misery! Yet you will not dare protest, and will carry on with your hollow breast, believing that you have no choice, and thus never will you raise your voice. Tell your mother, and tell her straight, that there is no chance of such a fate. Tell her it is your brain you choose to lead, and not the heart that she claims to bleed. And if it was to Aurora you swore, then that promise is no more. My son is too wise, and sage, and smart, to ever have such a simple heart."
"Hear how he tries to make it sound so plain? He claims the body only has a brain. 'Only bones and brain,' you whine, 'there is no heart, only spine!' Ignore your father, so simple and dull, and let him know you have a soul. I can see, as clear as the day, how your rosy cheeks have turned to gray. You wither and waste, you die and you rot, for the dame who has your heart besot. It is Aurora for whom you yearn—only for her can your heart burn! Now that I know this to be true, my heart is breaking quickly, too. But before you lose yourself in fret, remember there is no marriage yet! Ask us here, and ask us now, before you take your holy vows, to set you from this betrothal free, so with your Aurora may you be!"
Kyoya made no promise of a good performance. "Mother, I do not mean to hurt, but let me be blunt, and let me be curt: you are mistaken, very so, to believe I am lost in a sea of woe. Never my heart did Aurora take, and for no woman does it ache. I am above such lowly plights, so there are no wrongs to turn to rights. Love is a fool's simple jest, so it has no place inside my chest. Listen to Father, here I pray, that I need only brain to lead my way. To Katherine I will be wed, and with her will I share my bed, to lead my family to fortune good, as I always have and always would."
What follows is a round of mud-slinging between spouses, colorful insults such as "my milksop wife" and "boorish bastard." Kyoya will at the very least admit to the effort that must have gone into it, but good craft doesn't excuse the suspiciousness of all of this.
Oh, no. Is he rhyming in his head now?
"Stop, stop, for all that's dear! Look who's now drawing near!" Yorick points out, and he and Jacqueline gasp. "Lady Katherine! But why?"
"Oh, if she sees us like this, I'll die!" Jacqueline swats her husband all over with her fan, eliciting a few chuckles from the crowd. "Straighten your spine and raise your head! Lord's grace, you are still so red. Use my fan—oh, be still! You look as though you've fallen ill. Kodorvin, stand onto your feet! You may not love, but you must be sweet."
So Kyoya stands, and in comes Lady Katherine.
As portrayed by Tenya Matsuda (of the distantly-related-to-royalty Matsudas), in a blonde wig, a garish dress, and a bodice of stuffed cone breasts.
There are some laughs, some gasps, and some confused mumbling. Kyoya doesn't even get to observe any of it, because Tenya-as-Katherine skips across the stage, and then right to Kyoya's face. He doesn't kiss him, but he makes the puckering sound next to his cheek, loud and wet in Kyoya's ear.
"There you are, my heart's beat! Come and kiss me, my love, my sweet!" Katherine sees her sweet's parents and gasps. "Oh, my dearest parents to be! Please, please, pardon me. Oh, I feel such great shame, but over me my love overcame! Every time I see my dear, I lose control of myself, I fear."
There is silence. Being faux-kissed by Tenya made Kyoya forget why he was up here to begin with. Tenya nudges Kyoya's boot with his heel.
"My dear, my darling, dry your eyes. There is no need to apologize. Such feelings give you no control, but be careful, lest they swallow you whole."
"Come, my dear, let's leave them be," Yorick ushers behind his fan. "Let's give the two some privacy."
The second Yorick and Jacqueline exit the stage, Katherine's massive arms (courtesy of a long history in several Ouran sports teams) envelop Kyoya and pull him down to the loveseat behind him. Laughs explode from mouths, but Tenya at least has the decency to murmur a "sorry."
"Come, my darling, don't be shy. Now it is only you and I. Surely there is much you want to say—tell me here and now, I pray! Let me hear your words of love. Your dulcet voice comes from God above. I've waited for you all day and night, now speak and cure me of my plight!"
Kyoya has to curl his arm up from under Tenya's hold to look at his script. "I do not believe there is use to try—hush, be still, do not cry. There are no words worthy to explain, the thrall of my love, this bittersweet pain."
"Oh, a poet you refuse to be, but a poet you always are to me!" Another loud, fake kiss, followed by another 'sorry.' "I understand, my heavenly muse, there are too many words to choose. But where you quiet, I will speak! Now I will part myself from your cheek. I will speak loud and true how utterly enthralled I am by you!"
What follows is a soliloquy that, according to Kyoya's pocket watch, goes on for six. minutes. Six minutes of Katherine wailing in a false falsetto of how much she loves Kyoya, how she would burn for him and freeze for him and live for him and die for him and breathe for him and choke for him.
Around the four-minute mark, Kyoya realizes that this is the point—Katherine is ugly, annoying, and so in love it's pathetic. It's six straight minutes nevertheless, and Renge is shaking her head to soreness. The twins' joy has been killed, and perhaps five minutes in, Tamaki is the only one still rapt.
Honestly, Kyoya just doesn't understand how a play could be "so amazing" if it does something so…uninspired? It's one scene, yes, but he's confident that Katherine has no personality outside of being annoying comic relief. Having an ugly woman be portrayed by a man is just cheap comedy, not something he'd expect from a Romeo and Juliet-inspired tragedy—not to mention unattractive characters being scorned in the narrative just for being so is simply outdated, isn't it?
While Katherine goes on (Tenya himself sounding rather over it), Kyoya looks over to Kosuke and finally finds some solidarity. She's openly frowning, brows furrowed, and when their eyes meet they seem to share the same thought: Really?
Kosuke looks down at her copy of the script—probably, like many others, to see how much longer this will go on.
Then she goes still, and her frown goes lax in confusion. She flicks through the pages with purpose, and Kyoya is now a bit alarmed. He can't do the same without drawing attention. Even if he could, he has no way to know just what Kosuke is seeing that's making her bristle.
"I believe that I will finish there." Spines straighten out and drooping eyelids fly open. Even Kyoya has to right himself when Katherine turns back to him. "Though believe me, there is so much more to share! There is no end to what I can say—but look, my god, it's no longer day! Your grip upon me is so tight I did not see the fall to night! Oh, I must go now, my dear—but do not weep; I am always near. And together we'll be for the rest of life, when you are my husband and I your wife!"
One final kiss, one final 'sorry,' and Katherine sweeps her technicolor skirts away. During her impossibly long drawl, the stage lights had gone from white and sunny to gold like sunset and finally to a light blue of moonlight.
There are whispers on the other side of the stage, and Kyoya turns around. Suzume and Amaya stand close, hushing their voices quiet enough for the audience but not for Kyoya.
"Just let me tie my hair and get rid of some accessories," Suzume is offering kindly. "I think they'll get it."
"No, they'll still see you as his mother. Ugh, I can't believe I sent the wrong date to Chimari, too…" Amaya sighs almost dreamily. "Alright, Suzume. The last cue is the closing lights. Can you handle that?"
"Of course! Go ahead!"
Amaya disappears, and Kyoya can hear her heels clicking all the way around the stage, rounding the bed and the fireplace and the window. When she steps out into the light from where Katherine had just gone, she's let her hair down and done away with the beret.
"Kodorvin, are you there still? I wish to talk, if you will."
Kyoya looks back down at his script. KATHERINE exits. Enter AURORA. KODORVIN:
"Aurora, my Aurora, is it you? This is not a dream, it's true?"
"Yes, my dearest, it's me, be sure! This distance I could not endure. Too long have I not heard your voice. Just seeing you now, I could rejoice! Dearest love, won't you hold me close? Of no touch would I now oppose!"
'Aurora' comes closer, arms raised, and stops before Kyoya gives the cue. She can't smile with her mouth, so she does with her eyes instead.
I can't believe this, Kyoya seethes in his mind. How did I not realize this was a setup?
All of this—the workshop, the invitations, 'accidentally' giving Chimori and Dai the wrong dates—it was all so the two of them would be Kodorvin and Aurora, passionately in love, in front of this audience. He flew right into the fly paper and now he's stuck.
For just a second, he considers just walking off the stage without a word—but just that one second. All he'd get out of it was an instant of satisfaction followed by burning pain under all the stares and whispers.
Well, if I had reason not to try before… Kyoya looks back at his script and keeps his head down, blatantly ignoring the note (AURORA and KODORVIN can't take their eyes off one another—passionate, smoldering.)
"Come quick, come quiet, and come to my side—but leave between us a great divide. We may sit, but we cannot touch. We may talk, but not too much. One spark, I fear, is all it would take, to make my resolve bend and break."
Kyoya sits back on the loveseat, stiff as a board, while Amaya practically falls onto it, her body bending towards him like he's a black hole.
"Why do you worry? What do you fear? I thought my presence would cause you cheer. Have we not been waiting one for the other? Please, do not fret for your father and mother. They are not as heartless as you make them to be—we can go to them now, and we'll make them see! See that for each other you and I were made, like stitches in silk that can never be frayed. It is us who should marry, you and I—and it will take no effort to show them why!"
"I have no objections; your words ring true. But alas, my darling, there is nothing more to do. It is to Katherine that I have made a vow, and without her family, mine will bow. I cannot put my heart before my kin, though I will forever be haunted by what could have been."
Kyoya isn't thinking much as he's reading—besides a distant criticism of how some of these rhymes are being stretched—but once his eyes land on the last period, everything seems to slow down, down, down.
Amaya is responding to him in a cascade of waxed poetry, but Kyoya listen. The realization that this was a trap was troubling, but now he's having another realization, one that's turning the marrow in his bones to ice.
Kodorvin Ostergard is in love with Amaya—he checks the dramatis personae—Demerci, but is engaged to Katherine Albernik. The only reason Kodorvin is marrying Katherine (ugly, wretched Katherine) is to ensure good fortune to his family. Even if it means at the cost of his own happiness.
He finally looks up—not to Aurora, but to Katherine, the one not on stage. Who looks like she would be furious, if she could get past her disgust.
Kyoya doesn't even want to look at Amaya anymore, for the same reason that some turned away when Tenya walked out on stage in his circus tent. He just can't imagine how it must be like to be her.
How long did it take to write this play? How long did it take to do the rhymes, the costumes, the cues, everything, all for a joke that only three people understand?
And—She—
Sneakily as he can, with fingers almost unable to bend, he looks back through the opening of the scene. Yorick Ostergard and his wife Jacqueline are arguing over whether their son still holds a candle for Aurora despite his inevitable marriage to Katherine, or whether he will never hold a candle because of how useless love is.
They fight and snap and hurl insults at one another. Husband and wife. Kodorvin's parents.
If Kyoya could confront Amaya for writing this story about her, himself, and Kosuke, he'd want to know just what is wrong with her.
If Kyoya could confront Amaya for writing about his parents like this, he'd want to ask how dare she?
For each word that Aurora sings to Kodorvin, another blazes dark in Kyoya's mind.
You are the bow of my heart's violin, says Aurora.
You are absolutely pathetic, thinks Kyoya.
Then Amaya has the audacity to touch him—pulling his head up by curling her fingers under his chin, cooing to him. In twitching to wrench her hand away, Kyoya realizes he'd been gripping the fabric of his costume in a vice. The joints of his fingers ache, and a line of pain blazes along his palm from where his fingernails had dug in.
Now he's unable to stop the trail his anger is blazing through. He's not just enraged with Amaya, still singing mere inches from his face. He's enraged with the twins for laughing, with Tamaki for being so interested, Renge for taking notes, and everyone else just sitting there watching this entertainment. Maybe if he let himself snap at Amaya, he'd do the same to them.
The only person who understands what's happening is just as powerless as he is. Kyoya didn't think it was possible for his stomach to drop any lower, but it does just that when Kosuke looks through her script again and freezes.
He can't search his copy, not with Amaya literally holding him in place, but his warning comes in Kosuke suddenly standing…and leaving.
There are a few glances at her back as she sprints away, curiosity and maybe some concern—the twins and Tamaki hesitating the longest, but settling back in their seats nonetheless. Amaya sees, too. Oh, she sees.
Her mask finally cracks. Aurora, in the midst of bleeding her heart out to her beloved, fights back a satisfied smirk.
Finally Kyoya is released, and pretends to search for his next line and not whatever horror Kosuke had run from.
He has an inkling. And that inkling is right.
(AURORA and KODORVIN share a passionate kiss.)
She shouldn't do it. Like a premonition, Kyoya sees what would happen: the audience's attention would break. Eyes would focus not on the "romance" but on the empty seat that once held Kyoya's fiancée. The scene would end, and maybe someone would say something: question if they really had to do that. Any feedback that this "workshop" was intended for would be forgotten.
Yet there is not a doubt in Kyoya's mind that somehow…Amaya would find a way to save herself. Claim that she was simply caught in the moment. Explain that they had to, it was necessary for a proper performance. Sweetly assure that she hadn't meant any harm and that she would apologize to Kosuke right away "if she was uncomfortable."
Kyoya, though, what will he do? He could outright refuse, and how humiliating that would be, his friends and peers watching him awkwardly lean back from Amaya's approaching face. No, no—worse than that. She'd say that she wasn't going to kiss him, because Kyoya's engaged and why would she ever do such a thing?
But most importantly, so much so that no other reason matters, is that Kyoya just does not want to kiss Amaya.
Just—the idea of her coming closer and closer, until he can't look anywhere else but her, and then feeling her lips on his—
Kyoya truly feels sick. He couldn't care less that it would be his first kiss. It could be his millionth and he'd still taste the bile in his throat.
Amaya says, "You are as silent as the dead. I wish to know what's in your head." Forcefully. Repeating herself, because Kyoya had been sitting there unresponsive.
I'm not going to kiss you, Kyoya almost seethes at her. "That is enough. We speak of this no more. I told you, it is to Katherine that I swore. Now stop this woeful stream and let go of this hopeless dream. You and I are not to be. There will be no 'us'—only you, only me."
"I mean what I say and I have no shame. I love you—why won't you say the same?"
That is delivered with a laugh. Stupid, foolish Kodorvin, unwilling to admit how smitten he is.
Kyoya prides himself on his multitasking skills, but he can't think of a way out of this while he's reading aloud. What can he do not to kiss her and not be humiliated? Should he feign a cough? Just make sure that everyone sees her leaning towards him before he shuts her down?
"There is nothing 'same' to say. I believe you should be on your way. This conversation has been a waste; I fear your heart has been misplaced. I do not know where it could be, but alas, it is not with me."
"I understand that you are afraid. But I swear, my devotion will not fade. I vow that I will find a way, to save us both, come what may. I will save your family, and I will save you, too, from the torture Katherine will wring you through."
Then she shushes him, pressing her fingers to his lips (which sends another wave of nausea through him) before sliding them back, cupping the back of his head and please, no—
"I hear the words that you cannot speak, and I assure you, love, you are not weak. You are at a loss of what to do, and feel alone, only you. Yet I am forever at your side, and will remain through these troubled tides."
Think, think, think—
"Through your lips no words will come through, so no more words will I ask of you. But I will ask, if only for tonight, that you will take your arms and hold me tight, and to grant me a parting bliss by joining me for one last—"
Brrrrrrrrr
Brrrrrrrrr
Brrrrrrrrr
Everything stops and comes crashing down. Love and Loss ends not with a falling curtain, but with a phone ringing in Kyoya's pocket.
If he wasn't just as startled, Kyoya might have laughed at the look on Amaya's face—like a flipped switch, from smoldering passion to blinking confusion. Kyoya fumbles in taking his phone out of his pocket, and doesn't think to hide the caller ID from Amaya. She doesn't see it, which is extremely good fortune, because the name on his phone screen has Kyoya hitting the call button without thought.
"Hello?"
"Pretend that I'm someone from work and there's an emergency! Say that you have to go right now!"
Past the stage, past the crowd, and past the rows and rows of velvet seats, the back door of the theater has opened just a sliver. He's so far away that it almost looks to Kyoya like a trick of the light, but he sees blonde hair peeking through the space between the doors.
Quickly, he says, "I understand. I'll be there as soon as possible."
He stands to his feet and puts as much distance between himself and Amaya as he can while saving face. She tries to look interested and maybe concerned, but Kyoya sees it. He sees the outrage brewing in her eyes.
"My sincerest apologies," Kyoya says, "but something has happened at Ootori Medical. I need to leave immediately."
If Amaya was going to try anything—coax him to stay for "just one more minute," force him to listen to the feedback of Aurora and Kodorvin's romance—she never gets to. Tamaki leans forward in his seat and calls, "Is everything alright, Kyoya?"
"It's nothing to worry about, but I really need to be going now."
"So is that it?" Renge doesn't wait for an answer. She flicks her script which is nearly pitch black with both the lines and her notes. "Great. Because I have got some feedback that you're going to need if you want this thing to land on the stage."
Amaya slowly stands to her feet and beckons Tenya, Suzume, and Haruhiko to join her. They have shed their costumes and make-up and are eagerly awaiting. Amaya is smiling right alongside them, but not in the same way.
"I hope everything works out," she tells Kyoya as he walks away from them. "Thank you for coming, Kodorvin—Oh! I'm so sorry. Kyoya."
"You're welcome."
He walks to the backstage area, through the doors, past the seats (grabbing his suitcase), and all the way to the exit. The students are already singing praises. That was such a performance this and this will win for sure that. Kyoya exits to the sound of Renge's "I disagree" slicing through the air like a knife, and doesn't hear the endless barrage of criticism that follows.
Kosuke sighs in relief once he's out. "Are you alright?"
Alright doesn't cover half of it. Kyoya hasn't felt this kind of relief ever since Tamaki and Haruhi walked out of the ocean after falling off the cliffside.
But he isn't going to say that, because now that it's over, Kyoya is humiliated. A kiss. He almost had a meltdown over a kiss. He's better than this.
Damn it, stop.
"I'm perfectly fine."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
Her lips knot together, maybe a little angry at him, too—which he understands. He doesn't want to invalidate her concerns, but more than that, he doesn't want her to think there's anything to be concerned about.
"She—that—" Kosuke's hands are shaking as she growls. "I can't believe she has the audacity to—to do something like that!"
"I know."
"That is insane! Am I wrong that a sane person wouldn't do something like that?!"
"No, you're right."
"I don't care what she writes about me or Katherine or whoever, but your par—She can't just—!" The fire dies down to a simmer. "Why aren't you angrier about this?"
"Because if Amaya thinks that she's going to 'win me over' with stunts like that, then I feel more sorry for her than anything."
Kosuke's hands fall onto her thighs, and she protests no further. Strangely, Kyoya considers asking her to be angrier, about the walking joke that was 'Katherine.' Perhaps refusing to be is her agreement that yes, this is childish nonsense not worth her time.
"Well, still. I'm sorry. That must have made you really uncomfortable."
You don't know the half of it. "It's fine. I don't think anyone else caught on."
"I don't just mean sorry if you were embarrassed. That was just…completely unacceptable. She was going to—" She stops herself. No need to remind him. "Even if she didn't have this massive crush on you, you can't just do something like that to people."
Kyoya presses his glasses firmly into his nose. He knows he's been doing it more and more lately, and each time with more force—sometimes when he sees his reflection, he looks for a bruise between his eyes. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for. Really, I need to be thanking you for helping me."
"Don't worry about it," she says, and somehow it's both sincere and dismissive at the same time. As if helping Kyoya was the most obvious thing to do, it's ridiculous to thank her for it. "But do you want to…Do something about it? Not that it's in any way on you, but maybe there's something that could make her back off."
"I don't know if you've noticed, but if nothing else, Amaya is sly. I'm fairly certain that if I were to confront her about her behavior, she'd only insist that she had no idea what I was talking about. It would also require a conversation in private, which I'd prefer to avoid."
"Fair point." She laughs, a bit painfully. "Still. Wish there was something to do. Maybe we could write something in our reviews? I found Aurora to be painfully annoying and was wishing she would just get off the stage already."
It is a delightful idea. He'd love to see Amaya struggle to not burst into flames. "It's a nice thought, but I think I'd rather just forget this happened in the first place."
She hums, not agreeing or disagreeing. Though happy to see her calming down, Kyoya will not soon forget the utter panic on her face when she read the last line of the script, or the dawning horror of who the characters truly were. Those were not the reactions of an indifferent person.
Kyoya takes a second to recall their timeline. They met in the worst way possible and despised one another for a long time afterwards. Then they apologized, and tried to be civil. They went out to town and talked about their interests and goals. He'd admitted some of his thoughts on his parents' divorce that he'd shared with no one else, and she listened, apologized, and gave him some advice. In return, he'd advised her on her (still mysterious) situation with her grandparents.
Then there are the smaller things besides these milestones. She'd encouraged him to buy the calligraphy set just because it made him happy. He had movie tickets with no use for them, and the first thing he thought of was her and her siblings. The night at the art gallery, they had talked not only about his parents, but of utterly benign things—their favorite colors and foods, the story of why she can't eat hot dogs anymore—that still made him forget for a minute.
Is it their bad beginning that's casting confusion on it all? Kyoya doesn't think so. He can't remember any of his friendships beginning "well." He'd been nothing but neutral to the Zukas, found the twins' mischief tiring before he even met them, had first known Haruhi only as the clumsy student who broke their 8,000,000 yen vase. He'd outright hated Tamaki when they first met, and now look where he is…
So it must be everything else—and there is no shortage of "everything else." He and Kosuke didn't get to meet in a way that could even remotely be considered organic. They were not only introduced to one another, they were presented as new fixtures in one another's lives. The first thing they ever had in common was having to pretend to love one another for their friends' sake.
Even so, that's easier now. The entire time he'd been with Kosuke inside the theater, they were just sitting beside one another, no talking, no blushing, no longing looks. (Not counting when he'd been taken backstage, but that was more a look of help me.) Which probably makes more sense, being used to one another's presence as opposed to drooling over each other at every second, but that doesn't change the fact that Kyoya had never even thought about the lie they were telling.
"Thank you, again."
Kosuke blinks at him. She'd been twisting her foot, and now stops cold. "It's fine, seriously. I wasn't just going to sit there and do nothing."
Again with that simple fact. And again without any thought. Has she thought about this the same way Kyoya has? Has she ever paused at the two of them?
"Kosuke." She blinks again, head turning almost imperceptibly to the side. She looks a bit affronted, probably expecting him to again thank what doesn't need it. "I want to ask you something, but you don't have to answer right away. It's also completely acceptable to say no."
Her head tilts further, almost sideways. "Alright?"
"Are we friends?"
This doesn't rattle her as he expects. She doesn't reel back or ask, "What?" Her gaze tilts down, considering, which makes him realize she has absolutely thought about this before. Which really shouldn't be giving him the feeling that it does, especially because Kyoya doesn't know what the feeling is, only that it feels like some oxymoronic mixture of relief and anxiety, and Kyoya is sick to death of all the oxymorons in his life right now.
He'd at least thought that accepting his losses with Tamaki and Haruhi would free him of suffering through feelings he cannot name. Then comes Kosuke.
He thinks—by being his own psychoanalyst—that he wants her to say yes. It could be that in confiding with her, and her confiding in him, she'd inadvertently become closer to him than some of his oldest friends (and certainly closer than his own family). Kyoya would say that he was a little attached to her if that didn't sound pitifully soft.
It's not that he doesn't genuinely like her, but probably it's her safety that he's pulled to, the ability to confide things in her without chance of them spreading elsewhere.
Also, being married for the rest of their lives would certainly be easier if they were friends.
It takes a few seconds that feel like a few hours for Kosuke to answer him. "Yeah, I think so."
He replies, "Alright."
"Alright."
There isn't any more said about it. Is there anything more to say?
Whether or not, Kosuke's next words are simply, "Soooooo…What are you going to do now?"
"I'm going to Ootori Medical, as I should have in the first place."
"Uh—Don't you want to go home first?"
In the panic, he'd forgotten his clothes. Yoshio would probably throw him to the streets if he showed up to his office with a cape. "Yes, I do." Which makes him remember: "Delete that photo on your phone now."
She takes a small step back. "What photo?"
"Kosuke."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. You know, I should really get going, too."
"This isn't funny."
"Have a nice day at work, Kyoya. Bye~!"
Probably he would press if he didn't fear anyone else seeing him like this—he's already going to have to explain it to both his chauffer, the house staff, and anyone who sees him on the way to the limousine. He lets her go and just watches her run speed-walk her way to wherever she's fleeing.
It's annoying, but not infuriating. He supposes one embarrassing photo can be repayment for saving him.
He just hopes she never has to again—while at the same time knowing, without doubt, that she will.