if you lay down with a dream you'll wake up lonely
Tamaki speaks to Éclair in French like he's hungry for the words. In a way he is. It's been so long since he's had someone he could do that with, and back then, it had been with his mother, and he can't help it, really, if just the language makes him nostalgic. Éclair's French is impeccable, so fluid-- Tamaki feels like he is saying everything wrong, all the time, but when Éclair answers back without a pause, he wants to cry with joy.
He also knows, though, that whenever he speaks too fluently, goes too quickly, too long, says his soft l's, his gentle c's too correctly, Kyouya winces. He also knows that there was something mean about Kyouya this afternoon, that whenever he enters a room that previously was only occupied by Kyouya and Éclair, there is a tension that makes Tamaki want to dance with both of them at the same time, maybe force them to dance with each other.
(He tries it that night, to "Tu Est Partout", but Kyouya had to take a phone call from his father, and Tamaki ends up trying to foxtrot with Éclair, almost running her into a chair. "Mama would find you charming," Éclair says, laughing, and Tamaki spends the rest of the evening practicing various amorous French greetings to a portrait. Kyouya walks back in during a particularly embarrassing one. Tamaki's always loved the way Kyouya smiles when he thinks Tamaki is being particularly silly; it's like the way his mother used to put her hand on Tamaki's arm and say, "Why are you such a foolish child, Tamaki.")
When Tamaki asked Kyouya to come with him to France, he had this vision of the three of them by the seaside, arms linked, facing the dying sun, smiling. So far, it hasn't happened-- Kyouya's been irritable half the time because of the jetlag and language barrier (which is entirely Tamaki's fault, he should have known, but it's so hard to speak Japanese around her)-- but Tamaki still has hope. He wants them all to get along. He wants Kyouya to be himself, like he is in Japan. He wants Edith Piaf in the afternoon, Ravel in the mornings, Maria Callas during dinner. He wants them to have picnics in the grass, under the sun, on the boat, Éclair in her floppy white hats and beautiful silk dresses, Kyouya with his perfect slacks rolled to the ankles to avoid getting wet.
He wants desperately for both of them to be as happy as he is, all of them in love with each other, needing nothing more than what they have.
This really isn't part of the drabble, but Feist and Jane Birkin's The Simple Story is one of my favorite songs in the whole entire world, and seemed somehow fitting for Tamaki at the moment. Also, it is Feist, and beautiful, and I cannot bear to break this trend of me linking songs in every single post I make.
He also knows, though, that whenever he speaks too fluently, goes too quickly, too long, says his soft l's, his gentle c's too correctly, Kyouya winces. He also knows that there was something mean about Kyouya this afternoon, that whenever he enters a room that previously was only occupied by Kyouya and Éclair, there is a tension that makes Tamaki want to dance with both of them at the same time, maybe force them to dance with each other.
(He tries it that night, to "Tu Est Partout", but Kyouya had to take a phone call from his father, and Tamaki ends up trying to foxtrot with Éclair, almost running her into a chair. "Mama would find you charming," Éclair says, laughing, and Tamaki spends the rest of the evening practicing various amorous French greetings to a portrait. Kyouya walks back in during a particularly embarrassing one. Tamaki's always loved the way Kyouya smiles when he thinks Tamaki is being particularly silly; it's like the way his mother used to put her hand on Tamaki's arm and say, "Why are you such a foolish child, Tamaki.")
When Tamaki asked Kyouya to come with him to France, he had this vision of the three of them by the seaside, arms linked, facing the dying sun, smiling. So far, it hasn't happened-- Kyouya's been irritable half the time because of the jetlag and language barrier (which is entirely Tamaki's fault, he should have known, but it's so hard to speak Japanese around her)-- but Tamaki still has hope. He wants them all to get along. He wants Kyouya to be himself, like he is in Japan. He wants Edith Piaf in the afternoon, Ravel in the mornings, Maria Callas during dinner. He wants them to have picnics in the grass, under the sun, on the boat, Éclair in her floppy white hats and beautiful silk dresses, Kyouya with his perfect slacks rolled to the ankles to avoid getting wet.
He wants desperately for both of them to be as happy as he is, all of them in love with each other, needing nothing more than what they have.
This really isn't part of the drabble, but Feist and Jane Birkin's The Simple Story is one of my favorite songs in the whole entire world, and seemed somehow fitting for Tamaki at the moment. Also, it is Feist, and beautiful, and I cannot bear to break this trend of me linking songs in every single post I make.