Pretty

Soft and Sweet

Tamaki was rather pleased with how successful the cosy theme had been, especially as Kaoru had most of the creative control for the first time. He was rather pleased with his jumper and skinny jeans, feeling relaxed and comfortable, which only seemed to rub off on the guests. Tamaki's idea of success differed slightly from Kyoya's, his best friend focussing more on financial benefit rather than the brightness of the girls' smiles, but it'd do his friend a disservice to act like he didn't care at all. Because he did. Kyoya liked people to be happy, he just didn't like showing off those virtues, choosing the guise of a money-grubbing asshole.

Being in charge of the host club's budget was also a factor, considering how much the club spent on the aesthetic and atmospheric pieces for every theme. It was partly why the back room/dressing room/prop cupboard was such a mess. They'd all tried to go through it and actually mark down some sort of inventory, but it soon went to hell again. Still, Kaoru managed to save some money by buying their outfits while he was in Harajuku with Hikaru and their mother, so Kyoya wasn't having a heart attack.

Speaking of the other boy, Tamaki paused while making some herbal tea to stare at Kyoya, curled up on the sofa with his notebook on his lap, his tablet beside him, all the while nursing a hot cup of coffee. The sweater paws he had from the overly big jumper shielded his hands from the hot china, as well as adding to the cosy effect, and it seemed that a group of animated, very happy girls found it adorable. Still, there were a few things that made him feel... uncomfortable.

"Look how thin he is, I'm so jealous!"

Kyoya had started sitting down to observe the hosts because his legs hurt, the same reason that their gym teacher had prohibited him from taking part. Looking at Kyoya in that outfit, ghostly pale skin between the top of the thigh highs and the pink miniskirt, it was no wonder why. His legs were willowy, almost reminiscent of a new born deer, and it was more obvious than ever just how thin Kyoya was. Not that Tamaki didn't know, not with Kyoya's skeletal hands and blue tinted nails, but it was almost like a slap in the face. He really had to start pushing Kyoya to eat more, they did spent a lot of time together, and friends helped friends.

"Mommy dear, have I told you how soft and sweet you look in that outfit?" He inquired, voice melodic, and they could both hear the girls squeal. They knew how to play this game, after all. Kyoya's feelings for him had been genuine at one point, it'd been talked out and things cleared up; there was nothing wrong with a little fanservice, but not too much.

"Will I still look soft and sweet with my hands around your neck?" Kyoya teased, although he did put the cup of coffee on the table in front of him, "Can I help you, or do you need to go back to your clients, like a gentleman."

"I just wanted to see if you wanted to come over for dinner," He shrugged, light and airy, trying to distract from how serious he felt about the matter, "Shima misses you being there, says that you're a good influence on my table manners – not that there's anything wrong with them."

"Says the guy who started drinking ramen broth straight out of the bowl like a dog..." Was the response, to which Tamaki stuttered out something barely resembling a sentence, meaning something along the lines of that's how you're meant to do it, and you know that. He knew teasing was just that, the undercurrent of satisfaction he got from Kyoya's genuine smile helped clear away some of his indignance, "I'd love to Tamaki, but I can't."

Tamaki swallowed thickly, eying how Kyoya's shoulders shook slightly, as if he were cold. Or scared, although that possibility was soon tossed out; someone like Kyoya wouldn't get scared over a dinner invitation, after all. Still, he wasn't aware of any plans, even if Kyoya did have a life outside of the host club. Something about it wouldn't leave his chest, however; clogging up his heart and lungs and itching under his skin.

"How come?" He inquired, an attempt at a casual question that didn't come out quite right. Still, it wasn't like asking was out of character for him, and so Kyoya Ootori actually took the bait. Those thin fingers rubbed over bloodshot eyes, underlined with dark shadows, and he let out a breath that seemed to – if possible – make him seem even more exhausted.

"I have homework to complete before tomorrow," Kyoya explained, picking up his coffee once more, jumper sleeves pulled over his hands, "I fell asleep too early last night and didn't finish, I'd rather not fail because you wished to wine and dine me."

"You fell asleep?!" Tamaki scoffed, an incredulous look crossing his face for a moment, "Kyoya Ootori fell asleep before completing work? I know you, Kyoya; you'd be doing our English assignment on your deathbed, it's how you are –"

"Tamaki, quiet," Kyoya hissed, cutting Tamaki's rant off and bringing a hand to his head with a wince, "You're causing a scene and giving me a headache. The girls are waiting anyway, so go. Shoo."

Tamaki let out something all too close to a growl, frustrated and unsure what to do, fear licking at the back of his rational thought. Well, now he knew something was wrong. It was so certainly, seriously wrong and he didn't even know the full problem. Although, something did come to him later, which almost made him drop a slice of cake right in a client's lap.

Kyoya's family was full of doctors, so why did he just seem to grow sicker?