Because I am OBSESSED with OHSHC...

...here are two fanfics I wrote...before this...? I can't remember...quite recently, though.

Want for an Egoist's Love
Ouran High School Host Club
Kyouya Ootori/other character
PG-13 for language and content...stuff
Warnings: cursing?? I dunno...
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfic.



~
We're lying in bed now, together but separate. There's never any connection, never any emotion. It's all just sex. You don't even make love to me. I'm just an easy screw. Do you know that I know I mean nothing to you?

Last night I saw you glance at that person across the room, saw how you smiled the only real smile that I have ever seen grace your face. That's how I knew. That's how I knew that that person was the one you thought of when you look at me with those distant, calculating eyes of yours. That's how I knew that that was the person whose name you call out when you're with me. It was the name you called out last night after your father's party when we were alone in the midst of what to me was love making but to you was just a substitute.

I heard you speak once of the acts that were expected of you. That's why you're with me--because I fit into that cookie cutter mold that is understood in your world. That is why you could never be with the person you want to be with. That sort of love does not fit in your world. I do. Except that I don't.

You don't give a damn about me, you never have and you never will. Your heart belongs to someone else; that person across the room. The person whose name graces your lips when I wish only for it to be mine. They are the person whose face you really see when looking at mine. I am not the person to whom you are actually speaking the sweet sentiments that you claim are directed toward me. When you look at me, your eyes are always distant; when you speak to me, your words are never true. It bites at my soul. It's killing me because all I want in this world is your love. And, of course, it is the one thing I can never have. The irony speaks miles.

And, of course, you don't see that I love you. You don't see how much I actually want to be with you. How could you possibly understand it? Everything that you do is to preserve your place in your "world". What I wouldn't do to have those heated glances and unfeigned smiles aimed at me for even one moment. I love you, why can't you see that?

And now, now we are lying in your bed. I turn towards you and try to embrace you; you push me away. You are always pushing me away. You could never love me like you love that other person. You will never look at me or smile at me like you do the that person. I can't even think the name that belongs to that individual who has stolen you away from me. But that isn't right. You never loved me to begin with.

"I'm going to work."

Your words interrupt my thoughts. I sit up, pulling the sheets to cover my unclothed body. You have already showered and dressed. You hardly ever linger with me in the early morning hours--or ever, for that matter.

"Good-bye."

And now you are leaving me--again.

"I love you, Kyouya-san."

You don't respond. You just walk off, leaving me there, alone in a bed that I wish I could truly share with you.

xXx

Fake Smiles from a Love-sick puppy
Ouran High School Host Club
Tamaki Suoh/Kyouya Ootori
PG-13 for non-sexual sexuality references
Warnings: slash, yaoi, gayness...whatever you call it...ANGST
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfic.




~
It don’t do me any good
It’s just a waste of time
What use is it to you
What’s on my mind
If ain’t coming out
We’re not going anywhere
So why can’t I just tell you that I care
--Things I'll Never Say, Avril Lavigne
~

As club ends, I bid goodbye to the last customer of the day to have the luck of designating me today. As I rise, I feel my knees turn to that delectable commoners' treat that Haruhi calls Jell-O. I give a cheery goodbye to the others as I walk towards where you sit across the room; it suddenly seems so big. I glance behind and realize that the others have already left and I can't help but wonder how it is they all got out so quickly. Did they suspect something? I was pretty sure that I had been discreet in my feelings toward you. But then again, maybe I hadn't. I suppose it'll all be clear in a few moments.

You're sitting there, typing away on your laptop, finishing up with the last of today's business. You look so intense as you stare at the screen with the greatest intent that has ever crossed anyone's face; I wish that you would stare at me that way.

I glance behind myself at the empty room. How many times have I done that already? Two? Three? I've lost count. I swallow, trying to get the huge lump in my throat to somehow go down. I'm uncharacteristically nervous and, suddenly, I've reached you. Did the room somehow shrink itself down so that I would reach you faster?

You glance up; I freeze.

"Tamaki? What do you need now?"

I force a fake smile upon my face and force out, as happily as I can, "Could we sit at a kotatsu and have hot pot when I go to your house tomorrow, Kyouya?"

You look at me like I must be some kind of idiot. How can I blame you, though? I feel like an idiot; I sound like an idiot. Can't I think of anything better to say other than that? You must think that I'm some kind of kotatsu-obsessed freak.

"It's spring, Tamaki," you deadpan--but no wonder. You must be used to my foolishness by now.

You snap your laptop shut and rise as you slip it into your bag.

"Let's go, Tamaki."

Like a dog on a leash, I follow you. You reach the door and pause, looking at me. Like a love-sick puppy I stare back. Can't you see that I'm yours?

"Was that all you wanted to ask?"

I force another smile. "Yeah, Kyouya. That was all."

"When the weather gets cool again, I'll have the servants pull out the kotatsu, and I'll have the cook prepare some hot pot. Alright?"

You look impatient. I want to add something, but all I manage to squeak out is another idiotic, "Yeah."

You turn out the lights and we walk out of the third music room and down the hall. We walk out of the school and into our own respective limousines after telling each other goodbye. I never tell you that I love you. At this rate, I never will.