Categories > Anime/Manga > Ouran High School Host Club
“But, Kaa-san, please, we must -” Eyes sparkling with unshed tears, Tamaki expounded eloquently (and slightly damply) on whichever subject had caught his notoriously whimsical eye this time. With the ease of long practice, Kyouya tuned out his voice until it was a low chord in the background – G major, he rather thought – interjecting with ‘No’ whenever his contribution seemed to be required.
Without warning, the ridiculous prince dropped to his knees on the sumptuous carpet. Kyouya blinked, the change in pattern jarring him from the mental calculations he used these outbursts to keep up with, and suddenly Tamaki’s arms were wrapped around his legs, eyes wide and still begging. “Tamaki, get off.” He pushed up his glasses with one finger and glared down at that golden head, fighting to keep his voice even and un-flustered. Those hands were really… quite inappropriate, and a tinge of red threatened to spread to his cheeks. “I said get off!”
Tamaki sniffled, gripping harder. “But Kaa-san is being so distant, Tou-san is lonely! You never pay any attention to me any more, I feel so unloved!” His eyes spilt over and, with a wail, he buried his face in Kyouya’s thigh.
Kyouya took a breath. And then another. With the control he’d been training from birth for the boardroom, he replied, “I’ve never paid you undue attention.” A lie, perhaps, but an old one. “Now stop, you’re getting my uniform wet.” Tamaki was tall, even when knelt on the floor, so the damp patch was… quite uncomfortably near the beltline, really, and every breath he exhaled was agonisingly warm against his sensitised skin. He shuddered and swiftly grabbed Tamaki’s shoulders, tugging him back far enough that his face was upturned, tears clinging to blond lashes. “If you’re truly that distressed, then I suspect Father would not object to another dinner guest tonight.” Especially one as well-connected as Tamaki Suou.
“Really?” Tamaki’s grin was instant, as joyful and innocent as a child – although Kyouya could only pray that no child’s smile would affect him quite so deeply. There were worse hells than the Host Club, after all. Beaming, Tamaki sprung up from the floor and flung his arms around Kyouya’s torso. “Thankyou thankyou thankyou” he repeated rapidly, his voice echoing next to Kyouya’s ear as his hair brushed smoothly along Kyouya’s cheekbone. “I missed you.” His voice still held a note of sadness, covered with the determined joy of one used to being abandoned eventually, and used to taking what he could.
Hesitantly, Kyouya’s arms came up to reciprocate, gently locking against his back as Tamaki wriggled then grasped even harder. This boy was, after all, the best friend he’d ever had – everything else was just a phase. It had to be.
Without warning, the ridiculous prince dropped to his knees on the sumptuous carpet. Kyouya blinked, the change in pattern jarring him from the mental calculations he used these outbursts to keep up with, and suddenly Tamaki’s arms were wrapped around his legs, eyes wide and still begging. “Tamaki, get off.” He pushed up his glasses with one finger and glared down at that golden head, fighting to keep his voice even and un-flustered. Those hands were really… quite inappropriate, and a tinge of red threatened to spread to his cheeks. “I said get off!”
Tamaki sniffled, gripping harder. “But Kaa-san is being so distant, Tou-san is lonely! You never pay any attention to me any more, I feel so unloved!” His eyes spilt over and, with a wail, he buried his face in Kyouya’s thigh.
Kyouya took a breath. And then another. With the control he’d been training from birth for the boardroom, he replied, “I’ve never paid you undue attention.” A lie, perhaps, but an old one. “Now stop, you’re getting my uniform wet.” Tamaki was tall, even when knelt on the floor, so the damp patch was… quite uncomfortably near the beltline, really, and every breath he exhaled was agonisingly warm against his sensitised skin. He shuddered and swiftly grabbed Tamaki’s shoulders, tugging him back far enough that his face was upturned, tears clinging to blond lashes. “If you’re truly that distressed, then I suspect Father would not object to another dinner guest tonight.” Especially one as well-connected as Tamaki Suou.
“Really?” Tamaki’s grin was instant, as joyful and innocent as a child – although Kyouya could only pray that no child’s smile would affect him quite so deeply. There were worse hells than the Host Club, after all. Beaming, Tamaki sprung up from the floor and flung his arms around Kyouya’s torso. “Thankyou thankyou thankyou” he repeated rapidly, his voice echoing next to Kyouya’s ear as his hair brushed smoothly along Kyouya’s cheekbone. “I missed you.” His voice still held a note of sadness, covered with the determined joy of one used to being abandoned eventually, and used to taking what he could.
Hesitantly, Kyouya’s arms came up to reciprocate, gently locking against his back as Tamaki wriggled then grasped even harder. This boy was, after all, the best friend he’d ever had – everything else was just a phase. It had to be.
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