These foolish games are tearing me apart,
And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart.
You're breaking my heart.

"Kyouya, you should say something…"

Anything to break the silence that filled the room, swirls of dark color and unspoken words. Dark hair and glasses were all he was, nothing deeper as he peered over the edge of a clipboard at the blonde and seemed to ponder something behind those glasses, part of that barrier that kept them separated. Tamaki lifted his eyes to meet the shrouded ones, waiting for his words. Such small, trivial things mattered to him so much, but Kyouya failed to notice.

"Why do I need to say something? If you want a conversation, maybe you should start one, Tamaki…"

Careless words, falling like drops of rain in a thunderstorm. It was not as if he hadn't said them before, but Tamaki sighed anyway. Kyouya's reactions to his attempts to get close were always so unsatisfying, never anything more than tiny glimpses of the real picture. On the outside they were best friends, but underneath they were separated by the immeasurable gulf of the things that Kyouya wouldn't let him in on.

"Why do I always have to be the one?" he asked softly. Shaking hands brushed back blonde hair from indigo eyes, nervous gestures that Kyouya would recognize if he would just wake up, step out of his personal box and come into Tamaki's world, where distance meant nothing. It was useless to tell Kyouya to try, but Tamaki didn't know how to stop trying with Kyouya. It wasn't in his nature; pure animal instinct kept him coming back for more, despite coldness and the disapproving glance Kyouya would send him from under dark hair. These were the things that kept him in his rut.

Kyouya still hadn't answered him. Tamaki watched the promises of the openness that could have been fizzle away, steamy breath in winter air, and he slumped his shoulders. An angle of defeat that he allowed Kyouya to see, hoping he would feel some remorse for his indifference, some pang of emotion for the blonde that wasn't driven by the thought of merits. But silent stone met him from Kyouya's eyes, and he nearly erupted. There was nothing he could do about the insensitivity that radiated from the person who was supposed to care for him deeply as best friends did. Their situation was unique and bizarre, and it had the potential to break his fragile happiness. He wondered if Kyouya noticed, and if he did, he wondered if he cared.

"Kyouya…" he whimpered desperately, and finally those eyes rose up to meet him, dark irises magnetic to Tamaki's cobalt ones. He stared raptly into those eyes, a deer in headlights as he waited for some response, something. 'Even you can't be this cold, Kyouya…"

"What?" the word was simple, stark, and it shattered Tamaki with its tone. There was no remorse, no second thoughts behind it. It was dark in its meaning, and impatience shone though those eyes as though he silently screaming at Tamaki to get away from him, to stop trying to get close. It was a darker side to Kyouya than others saw, the one that resented people getting to really know him, seeing past that front of pride and merits. Immediately he closed himself off, and Tamaki wanted to grab him, wanted to scream at him about acceptance and all the things he had done for him, and why couldn't he just try?

'Please just see me!' he wanted to shout. He wanted to hold that warm body close and say the million things that sat between them, unspoken.

It was like an impossibly high fence that Tamaki had no hope of scaling. He was trapped on the other side, so far from Kyouya that he could only peer at his distanct silhouette and pray for him to turn and look at him. Kyouya accepted all of Tamaki's eccentricities and spent most of his free time with him, but never opened any part of his hidden self to him. Everything Tamaki knew about him, he had had to scout out himself, searching for clues in those dark eyes during moments of vulnerability. Kyouya was delicate, held together by fragile pride and an unstoppable drive to ensure his future. But despite the fact that Tamaki knew all this, somehow he was not worthy enough for Kyouya to allow him past the barrier.

"I just want…" he began slowly, choosing his words with more care than usual. Behind his usual jovial excitement there was another side to Tamaki, a hidden one that he had always allowed Kyouya to see, hoping somehow the favor would be returned with a glimpse of Kyouya, raw and unscripted. "I want you to talk to me about things. Not just about the club, not just about school. About you, about personal things and about us and the future… I want to know you."

"You do know me," Kyouya answered, staring fiercely into Tamaki's eyes. "Why do you say foolish things like that?"

"Foolish?" Tamaki balked. "It's not foolish! I don't know anything about you, Kyouya!"

"Yes you do. You've shoved your way deep enough into my life to learn things I didn't want you to, and I should think that's good enough," Kyouya's eyes ventured back to his paperwork and he began to scan his work for errors. "Now if you don't mind, I have some work to do. Can you be quiet until I'm finished?"

For some reason the words cut deeper than normal, and Tamaki slumped onto the piano bench beside him, leaning an elbow on the keys with a loud, rude bang. Kyouya shot him a look, venom and needles disguised under the appearance of a simple glance. But Tamaki saw it and matched the look, not with a glare but with a desperate expression filled with longing. "Please…"

"Please what?" Tamaki certainly must be getting on his nerves, because it wasn't like Kyouya to sound so very cold when he spoke to him, giving him a look that made him want to crawl into a hole and hide. But he pushed a little farther, trying to dig deeper, trying not to let himself lose Kyouya to unfamiliarity.

"Please just… let me see you, for once?" Tamaki was on the verge of tears, and Kyouya gave him an odd look. The keys of the piano moved idly under Tamaki's shaking fingers as he attempted to soothe himself. The melody sounded harsh and ugly to his own ears and he stopped, looking back up at his friend. "Why do you keep me on the outside like this? Why do you feel the need to keep me so far away from you?" he asked, and his voice was growing increasingly shrill as he spoke. Kyouya looked a bit disturbed as he watched Tamaki crumble.

"Tamaki…"

"I know it's not something that matters to you, but to me it's more important than anything!" the blonde insisted. He stood up, moving over to his friend. Body shaking, he was a whirlwind of drama and energy and he moved forward, grabbing the front of Kyouya's shirt. "I just want you to stop trying to stay so far away from me! Please just… let me be close to you!

Kyouya's eyes were wide, and Tamaki's were wet. A thousand words that had never been spoken hung in the silence between them. For a moment, neither spoke, challenging the silence that grew so deep and so still. Finally, Tamaki surrendered, lowering his head but still clutching the handful of Kyouya's shirt.

"We've been best friends so long, but you never let me feel like I really know you…" he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut against the weight of memories that kindled themselves in his mind and made him feel queasy. Had everything between the two been nothing more than a lie? Was there really anything left here? Slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet Kyouya's. After all the things they had been through, after all the things they should have said and done, all the times Kyouya had indebted himself to him, still he remained silent. Narrowing eyes told him that Tamaki was not happy, and slowly the blonde rested his cheek against the still, solid chest.

"Please…" it would be such a small effort, Tamaki thought, for Kyouya to close the distance. To just say something. Anything. The stubborn boy before him held his heart in the palm of his hand, bittersweet and completely yearning. If there was anyone who could right things, it was Kyouya. Tamaki wondered if, aside from merits, Kyouya had any reason to care about him at all. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe this was pointless. For the first time in a long time, he gave up, pulling his cheek away from the warmth of Kyouya's sturdy chest and growing cold.

"Fine…" he found himself whispering, bitter and wounded in all the silence. He turned away from his best friend and slowly began to walk away. "If this means that little to you, then I don't see any reason for me to stay."

He could see the door drawing near, and as he stepped toward the hallway he glanced back over his shoulder at Kyouya, standing in silence and watching him go without the desire, or perhaps the ability to make him stay.

'Say something, Kyouya…'

But the other boy stayed silent and watched him go, and Tamaki screamed inside, unheard. He knew Kyouya could have reached out to him, closed that gap, and things would start to progress. But they stayed stuck in their infinite loop, and slowly, Tamaki walked away from him, leaving it all unsaid.

Maybe, on some levels, it was easier this way.

Well in case you failed to notice,
In case you failed to see,
This is my heart bleeding before you,
This is me down on my knees