Kyouya Ootori has two lives; one is ideal, and one is hell - but he can't tell which is which.

It's not like it started out like that. It started as something to de-stress, to get rid of the mess inside his head with ear-splitting music as, how Tamaki would so eloquently put it, the commoners do. Hair gel, contacts and dark clothes make him someone else for the night as the electric guitar and the smell of sweat and alcohol work their way into his mind.

It was so... freeing. Even though it was essentially putting on another mask, he felt like he'd stripped everything away; like this was how he was meant to be, and it actually might have been. The shots and cocktails and liquors dulled his mind enough to act without considering every variable, enough to have fun for once.

He makes a decision against what he's heard his entire life, and decides to go back again.

In one life, the one his father and "good friends" see, he's the shadow king of the host club and his father's lap dog. He does as he's told, accomplishes good grades, and smiles with nothing but evil intent.

In the other, the one with alcohol and sex and other fun things that people warn you about, he's a slut and a whore and possibly an addict; but he smiles freely, if deliriously, and yells along to the blaring music with "bad people".

It's nice to have a life where he can slip on a disguise - or his real skin, he doesn't remember anymore - and let other boys put their hands down his pants against the club wall as he gasps; the taste of Jager Bombs and two kinds of ecstasy mingling as they force their tongues down his throat. It goes so nicely with the pastel pills he chases down with vodka.

His grades don't suffer, not really. He might drop to second place in the class every now and then, but as Tamaki matures (ever so slightly, at least) with age, everyone assumes he's just getting smarter.

Kuze says that Kyouya just peaked in his second year, and is falling back into the place he deserves to be in. If it were in his other life, he'd break the bastard's nose and flip him off.

But, in this life, he just smiles and makes some passive aggressive comment as he mentally thanks his ability to bullshit his way through class.

In one life, he has a father that treats him like dog shit he stepped in on his way to the office, but has sweet friends – and Hikaru – to make up for it. He gets yelled at in the morning, goes to school, takes notes that he won't read all day, messes around in the host club, and goes home to get slapped or kicked for whatever he – or his father – fucked up.

In the other, his father doesn't exist. He's just a canon coming loose with "friends" who cut him deals on pills, booze and cigarettes if he wears tight enough clothes. They also like to play truth or dare and spin the bottle, and generally enjoy the shit they do.

He comes in wearing shorts that barely cover his ass, scores some free vodka and severely discounted weed, and they spend the night laughing about how fucked up they must be to need this. He bitches about his dad, "Mr Business Guy", and the night ends with one of the guys – he forgets his name, Yuk-something-or-other – pounding into him in the alleyway next door.

He wakes up the next day, sneaks into the clinic at an obnoxiously early time of day – at least according to his hangover and natural disposition – and talks to the doctor about post exposure prophylaxis. They were both too far gone to remember condoms, after all, and that guy's been known to share needles; it's best not to take the chance.

Tamaki mentions the fact that he's pale, thin and has bags under his eyes, and it's blurted in the way that it usually is when the headache holds something in for too long.

He says that he's just tired, and leaves it at that. Tamaki would cry, shriek, faint, or all of the above if he knew about the clubs, alcohol and drugs – not to mention the guys who like it rough and public. Hell, Tamaki would probably pale if he knew Kyouya wasn't a virgin.

Of course, no person can live two lives. It's impossible. Even if you're as talented as Kyouya is.

That thought dawns on him as he stops in the hallway, swaying as his vision fades in and out of focus. Something always happens to give you away; fingerprints, the calling card you couldn't resist leaving –

The track marks peppering his inner elbow from nights when pills and smoking and booze just didn't seem enough.

As the floor rapidly approaches and Tamaki feverishly calls his name, he falls into unconsciousness with two little words echoing in his mind.

Game over.