[There's nothing else he can do. Every other attempt to speak catches in his throat, threatens to make his knees buckle. There's so much pain, and he knows he's too old for that. So it converts to anger. Which has no outlet. So his nails just drive harder into his palm. Reminding himself to keep in check.
He can't find the words to tell Tamaki how remarkable he is. How far they've all come. Hikaru, Kaoru, Honey-senpai, himself, even Haruhi. They're all worlds away from the people they used to be. But two years doesn't unwrite fourteen. He was alone too long before Tamaki forced his way into his life, before he realized he had someone he could rely on. He was too used to only having himself, and too afraid of the day he'd only have himself again. This pain was something private, something that had been drilled into him young as unacceptable and shameful.
Tamaki wanted to fix everything. He could bring them together, start building sturdier walls to support their 'house,' but... he couldn't fix the cracks in the foundation. Not without some pain and some resistance.]
I can always find ways to disappoint.
[His father, his brothers, his sister, Tamaki. The first two grew increasingly less important the longer he was with Tamaki. Which made sure this conversation hit deep.
He'd disappointed Tamaki. Proven, like he'd always known, that he wasn't the warm man Tamaki thought he was.
His voice was low as his eyes shut, trying to detach himself, but it wouldn't work. Had he broken the skin on his palm? He wasn't even sure, but he kept his hand clenched. The pain kept the tears at bay, and that was all the pride he had left.]
I'm trying.
[They were words his father would never accept, but he tried offering them here, his head bowed and his eyes downcast.]
[Private]
[There's nothing else he can do. Every other attempt to speak catches in his throat, threatens to make his knees buckle. There's so much pain, and he knows he's too old for that. So it converts to anger. Which has no outlet. So his nails just drive harder into his palm. Reminding himself to keep in check.
He can't find the words to tell Tamaki how remarkable he is. How far they've all come. Hikaru, Kaoru, Honey-senpai, himself, even Haruhi. They're all worlds away from the people they used to be. But two years doesn't unwrite fourteen. He was alone too long before Tamaki forced his way into his life, before he realized he had someone he could rely on. He was too used to only having himself, and too afraid of the day he'd only have himself again. This pain was something private, something that had been drilled into him young as unacceptable and shameful.
Tamaki wanted to fix everything. He could bring them together, start building sturdier walls to support their 'house,' but... he couldn't fix the cracks in the foundation. Not without some pain and some resistance.]
I can always find ways to disappoint.
[His father, his brothers, his sister, Tamaki. The first two grew increasingly less important the longer he was with Tamaki. Which made sure this conversation hit deep.
He'd disappointed Tamaki. Proven, like he'd always known, that he wasn't the warm man Tamaki thought he was.
His voice was low as his eyes shut, trying to detach himself, but it wouldn't work. Had he broken the skin on his palm? He wasn't even sure, but he kept his hand clenched. The pain kept the tears at bay, and that was all the pride he had left.]
I'm trying.
[They were words his father would never accept, but he tried offering them here, his head bowed and his eyes downcast.]