Tales from Music Room #3

Goodbye (Pt. 1)

Tamaki stepped into the club room to see Kyoya standing by one of the windows, looking down at something in his hands.

The rest of the hosts trailed in behind Tamaki, all stopping in the doorway. Something was fundamentally about this whole scene, about the way Kyoya was standing.

He was tense, that much was clear in every line of his silhouette against the glass. Instead of his usual ramrod straight posture, he was leaning slightly against the wall as if he simply didn't have the strength to stand upright.

His eyes were closed beneath his glasses, and his breathing was too controlled to be natural. His hands were shaking.

His hands were shaking. Kyoya Ootori's hands were shaking.

Tamaki had only ever seen Kyoya have an emotional response more extreme than a vaguely displeased expression one time, and that was when his mother had died. On that night, he'd stayed up crying until the sunrise in Tamaki's arms. Silent, shuddering sobs that had broken Tamaki's heart.

Other than that, no one had ever seen Kyoya shed a tear or even look particularly upset by anything. This must be bad news.

Haruhi ventured forward. "Kyoya?" she inquired softly, "Is everything alright?"

Kyoya inhaled deeply and turned to face them, attempting to mask everything. "It can wait. The clients will be here in just a moment, and we have a job to do."

"We could cancel for the day if... You know... you need to," Honey suggested worriedly. Mori nodded in agreement.

"No. I appreciate the concern, but it's not necessary. This can wait." Kyoya's tone was light, and falsely pleasant. The entire club gave him a disbelieving look, but agreed.

Even when he was in a more fragile state, everyone could agree it was not worth getting on Kyoya's bad side.

Kyoya quickly folded whatever he'd been looking at into neat fourths and tucked in into his pocket. "Excellent," he said, smiling faintly. "Let's get started, shall we?"

There was something profoundly wistful in that smile, a sharp pain in his eyes that made Tamaki's heart twist. His boyfriend was hurting, and Tamaki had no idea why. Tamaki needed to help him, needed his smile to be real, needed his hands to stop shaking.

Tamaki couldn't actually put a finger on why Kyoya's hands shaking bothered him so badly. He had always loved Kyoya's hands, strange as it may be. They always looked so graceful and elegant, just like everything that was Kyoya. He had felt those fingers lace through his own when they walked side by side. Those hands had gently stroked his hair after a nightmare, had not-so-gently raked through his hair in a kiss, had teasingly slipped up under his shirt. Tamaki couldn't even begin to count the number times he'd spent the night in Kyoya's room, only to wake up sometime in the wee hours of the morning to see Kyoya's fingers flying over his laptop or scribbling away in his black notebook.

Tamaki had never, ever seen Kyoya's hands tremble even the slightest bit.

'This club session could not end fast enough,' he found himself thinking as the clients flooded in.

~*~*~*~*~*

The entire club sat down on the plush couches, looking at Kyoya worriedly.

"Okay, Kyoya, spill it-" Hikaru demanded.

"-What's up?" Kaoru finished.

Kyoya took a deep breath and exhaled, leveling his gaze evenly, hands in his lap.

With a painful twinge in his heart, Tamaki saw that his hands still trembled. Tamaki moved to sit beside him, gently covering Kyoya's hands with his own steady ones. Kyoya held onto them as though they were his anchor, looking down at their entwined hands with a sad smile before speaking.

"As you may already know, my father strongly disapproves of host club activities and how much time I dedicate to them. He always has been... critical of how I choose to spend my time," he began slowly.

Everyone nodded. Shortly after the club had been founded, Kyoya had come to school with a nasty bruise on his face. Though his story was a simple accident and he never admitted otherwise aloud, everyone knew it hadn't been an accident.

"Well, something happened with my father's company... there's a new rival on the market." Kyoya took a deep breath, glancing out the window.

A building feeling of dread began to bubble in Tamaki's chest. Kyoya had confessed to them all, a few months back, that he had a plan to show his father up and get away from his control. Maybe just make everything better, even if that meant holding the Ootori Group's success just out of his dad's reach with a company of his own.

"Was that... yours?" Mori asked, speaking for the first time all day. Everyone waited with bated breath, unsure of what they were even hoping for.

"Yes," Kyoya said simply, "But everything blew up in my face. He found out and the whole thing was shot to pieces. Since I'm underage, he was able to make a case that everything belonged to him. So I lost that. But after that... it got much worse."

"Oh, Kyoya, I'm so sorry," Haruhi said softly. Tamaki squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Kyoya offered a tiny smile before continuing.

"I have been thrown out."

"What?" the entire club yelled in unison, eyes wide.

Kyoya nodded, his dark hair falling in his eyes. "Privately, of course. My father doesn't want to risk a scandal, but he also doesn't want me in his house anymore."

"You can stay with me," Tamaki offered immediately. The entire club chimed in with agreement, apologies, and offers of help.

Kyoya, however, only shook his head. "You don't understand. He has thrown me out, but still will lay a claim to everything I accomplish. He also..." Kyoya broke off and sighed, looking down. "He's also sending me to a different school."

"No..." Tamaki whispered. "Kyoya, please..."

"In a different country." Kyoya looked up. "Everything's been arranged. I leave for America tomorrow morning. This was my last day at Ouran."