[i It was almost like nothing ever happened.]
[i Like the last day of the Ouran Fair was just another day at the Host Club.]
[i As if Tamaki never planned to disband and leave us all without another word.]
[i As if he didn’t know he was going to rip us all apart.]
[i And he came back for her- not us.]
The dark haired male stared down at the notes finely printed across his notebook, not really seeing the words and numbers anymore but thinking about the future which he sacrificed for the King. The role he chose to stay here instead of in a business driven world his Father controlled. It wasn’t Haruhi’s words that kept Tamaki from marrying Eclair, it was him.
Kyoya Ootori looked up through his strands of loose hair, watching the Host Club conduct it’s usual business in a manner without him. As he told their leader, he wasn’t in the mood for courting girls and had paperwork to be handled... [i If only my emotions would cooperate... Only the weak feel this way.]
[#FF0000 “Kyoya,”] Tamaki snapped from this position on the couch, [#FF0000 “Make sure to put more instant coffee on the order list for this month. We’re already nearly out!”]
[#3A0367 “Of course,”] he replied flatly, forcing his tired eyes to refocus on the order list in front of him. They were already over budget from the Fair two weeks ago but Tamaki always made sure that money was never something to worry about. He had obviously never purchased a billion dollar company and released all stock and ownership along with it. It was an irrational decision that he knew his family frowned upon.
Kyoya closed the ledger, abandoning the thought of getting any work done today and instead stood to make himself a cup of tea. His gaze wandered over the hosts, fully immersed in their personas. He wondered if any of them felt any different. Everyone was an expert at hiding their true feelings , that it was sometimes difficult to tell what some of the members were thinking. They were all close, yes, but Kyoya was never anyone's confidant... only Suoh’s... and that was exhausting in itself.
Sometimes he wished he had Honey’s positivity or the twins’ charm. Anything was better than being trapped as cold and collecting. But that was his label. The cool type.
His stiff fingers wrapped around the delicate china cup, taking in the warmth before sipping the herbal remedy.