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Things I Do Not Say || OHSHC

Summary:

Kyoya was smiling to himself, a tuneless hum escaping his lips occasionally. Even the clothing spread all around his room, hanging over almost every surface could not sway his mood. Fuyumi had clearly stopped by.

Still, the day had gone exceptionally well. He was happy. Happy? He weighed the thought. No, to be accurate, he was elated. His face split into a rare, toothy grin, full of joy. Pity he was alone in his room, no one could bear witness to the event. Hmmm. Elated.

His mind wandered back to the time spent after club hours, almost glued to his very enthusiastic boyfriend. What a word that was for what they had! His Tamaki. Pulling away only for the minimum of study, he now toyed with the last scraps of unread poetry, the catalyst to his current joy. What he found stole some of the voltage from his glow.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Things I Do Not Say || OHSHC

I am not like the others.

I am here because of my cousin and my height.

My quiet allows anyone to decide
What they think my shut lips hide.

Even here, they call me wild, they call me strong,
They call me gentleman and servant both.

Just clay.

Wet clay.

Mitsukuni speaks for me, and I do not object,
Though he is not always correct.

Do you know the books I read?

Why would you think to ask?

I am a prop in the play, every director knows
Tall extras are useful in composing a scene.

Why Kendo?

Would you ask?

Not even the other hosts
Seem to care, though even now I feel his stare.

Do not ask if I will wear the costume.
You know I will.

Ask if I enjoyed it.

Even Haruhi has not appeared to wonder
If I am content.

Compliance means nothing, fierce one.

Beat me down again,
It’s time.

Mitsukuni clambers up and down my spine, a tree.
He does not know where my self hides.

They care.

They care about someone they have each invented
Differently.

Each finding part of me, but silence
Prevented knowing.

Whose fault is this and why?

You don’t know him.
The offender is me.

One word must be enough.

I stay silent, should I start,
The river of words would never stop.

My peace is a gift for others,
Did you ever wonder, over your perfect tea—

Why my hands ache with only one memory?

At my age?

With girls ... everywhere.

What my imagination would have me do
With Haruhi, with Kyoya or with you?

Why Kendo?

Why silence?

Why choose to be
Scenery?

Why have you not asked me, you, reader, you.

The more you read into me,
The more I retreat.

One assumption is true, I protect you—

From me.

And it is lonely.

Notes:

Not all the poems were read in order, this one may have shown up at the right time, though.