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chineseinkWhere the Air is Clearer
Ouran Koko Host Club, mild Kyouya/Kaoru, PG, 653 words
It's not a matter of knowing where you used to be, but knowing where you can be now.
Where the Air is Clearer
by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
meitachi
"I always wondered," said Kyouya.
"I doubt it," returned Kaoru, looking amused. "You always knew."
The two former classmates sat across from each other at a table at a sidewalk cafe in Paris. A red-and-white striped umbrella stretched over their heads, providing relief from the blinding brightness of the sun.
Kyouya sipped at an unsweetened iced tea, tart with lemon. He was dressed in cool, loose whites, every inch of him speaking of wealth and effortless composure. His surprise at seeing Hitachiin Kaoru in France had been hidden under his lashes, behind his glasses. He hadn't expected to run into the better half of the devil twins here, not when the Japanese press had been making such a fuss recently about Hikaru's impending marriage. Kaoru should be home.
"No," Kyouya said, looking across the table with an unreadable expression, "I always did wonder if you let her have him."
Kaoru's smile was wry as he propped his chin in his hand, elbow on the tabletop. Beads of condensation ran down the sides of his half-drunk smoothie. "I didn't let her have him so much as I let him have her. I...let him go. Haruhi is good for him." His mouth twisted as he made a face, and then he shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "We grow up. You let Tamaki-senpai go."
The hot days of a French summer, years after high school graduation, were no place for nostalgic titles like "my lord". The heat stuck to Kyouya's skin as he watched Kaoru watch him, normally mischievous eyes serious now, shadowed with past and present.
"He was never mine like Hikaru was yours," Kyouya replied, the words rolling off smoothly, as his lies always had. His hands were steady on his glass, giving away nothing. In his back pocket he could feel the weight of his wallet—brand-name, the finest Italian leather—and in it, various Euro bills, assorted credit cards, and the keycard to his hotel. He wouldn't impose on Tamaki's family home, not now when his family was no longer just his mother, but wife and child as well.
Kaoru waited out the silence, playing with his straw. Kyouya appreciated the new patience. "I am here in France on business," he said at last, "but that business is personal. Tamaki asked for a favor."
"Cheri turns one soon, doesn't she? We received invitations."
Kyouya looked sharply at Kaoru. He was wearing a pale blue polo shirt, unbuttoned to leave this throat bare and offering a glimpse of his collarbone. It was faintly patterned with lines of darker blue that formed shapes of bridges and flowing water; one of his mother's designs, Kyouya deduced. Kaoru wore his clothes with ease, confidence, and a sense of being totally unaware of how good he looked. One thing that hadn't changed, Kyouya mused, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair, when so much else had.
"She's a very pampered baby," he said. "Well-loved, too. Eclair is a surprisingly tender mother."
"I always wondered," said Kaoru musingly.
Kyouya shook his head at the look Kaoru slanted him under his bangs. That was the past, nothing more than water under the bridge. Tamaki had never been for him. "I always knew," he said quietly.
He'd learned to cross those bridges long ago. There were new ones now.
Raising an eyebrow, he looked pointedly at his watch. Kaoru grinned, like a flashback to their past in its spontaneity and liveliness. The air was warmer here, though, and clearer now that they were older. It held more promise. When Kyouya stood and beckoned for the check, Kaoru licked the condensation from his glass off his fingers and watched him.
"Would you like a ride?" Kyouya offered out of innate Japanese politeness. He smiled at Kaoru's assent and signaled to his driver to pull the car around.
The air was different here, rife with new possibilities.
--
Started: 04.13.2007
Finished: 04.14.2007
Edited: 08.22.2007
Ouran Koko Host Club, mild Kyouya/Kaoru, PG, 653 words
It's not a matter of knowing where you used to be, but knowing where you can be now.
Where the Air is Clearer
by
meitachi"I always wondered," said Kyouya.
"I doubt it," returned Kaoru, looking amused. "You always knew."
The two former classmates sat across from each other at a table at a sidewalk cafe in Paris. A red-and-white striped umbrella stretched over their heads, providing relief from the blinding brightness of the sun.
Kyouya sipped at an unsweetened iced tea, tart with lemon. He was dressed in cool, loose whites, every inch of him speaking of wealth and effortless composure. His surprise at seeing Hitachiin Kaoru in France had been hidden under his lashes, behind his glasses. He hadn't expected to run into the better half of the devil twins here, not when the Japanese press had been making such a fuss recently about Hikaru's impending marriage. Kaoru should be home.
"No," Kyouya said, looking across the table with an unreadable expression, "I always did wonder if you let her have him."
Kaoru's smile was wry as he propped his chin in his hand, elbow on the tabletop. Beads of condensation ran down the sides of his half-drunk smoothie. "I didn't let her have him so much as I let him have her. I...let him go. Haruhi is good for him." His mouth twisted as he made a face, and then he shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "We grow up. You let Tamaki-senpai go."
The hot days of a French summer, years after high school graduation, were no place for nostalgic titles like "my lord". The heat stuck to Kyouya's skin as he watched Kaoru watch him, normally mischievous eyes serious now, shadowed with past and present.
"He was never mine like Hikaru was yours," Kyouya replied, the words rolling off smoothly, as his lies always had. His hands were steady on his glass, giving away nothing. In his back pocket he could feel the weight of his wallet—brand-name, the finest Italian leather—and in it, various Euro bills, assorted credit cards, and the keycard to his hotel. He wouldn't impose on Tamaki's family home, not now when his family was no longer just his mother, but wife and child as well.
Kaoru waited out the silence, playing with his straw. Kyouya appreciated the new patience. "I am here in France on business," he said at last, "but that business is personal. Tamaki asked for a favor."
"Cheri turns one soon, doesn't she? We received invitations."
Kyouya looked sharply at Kaoru. He was wearing a pale blue polo shirt, unbuttoned to leave this throat bare and offering a glimpse of his collarbone. It was faintly patterned with lines of darker blue that formed shapes of bridges and flowing water; one of his mother's designs, Kyouya deduced. Kaoru wore his clothes with ease, confidence, and a sense of being totally unaware of how good he looked. One thing that hadn't changed, Kyouya mused, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair, when so much else had.
"She's a very pampered baby," he said. "Well-loved, too. Eclair is a surprisingly tender mother."
"I always wondered," said Kaoru musingly.
Kyouya shook his head at the look Kaoru slanted him under his bangs. That was the past, nothing more than water under the bridge. Tamaki had never been for him. "I always knew," he said quietly.
He'd learned to cross those bridges long ago. There were new ones now.
Raising an eyebrow, he looked pointedly at his watch. Kaoru grinned, like a flashback to their past in its spontaneity and liveliness. The air was warmer here, though, and clearer now that they were older. It held more promise. When Kyouya stood and beckoned for the check, Kaoru licked the condensation from his glass off his fingers and watched him.
"Would you like a ride?" Kyouya offered out of innate Japanese politeness. He smiled at Kaoru's assent and signaled to his driver to pull the car around.
The air was different here, rife with new possibilities.
--
Started: 04.13.2007
Finished: 04.14.2007
Edited: 08.22.2007
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