A Name.

He once had a Name: given to him by his parents.

A Nickname, bestowed to him by his friends.

.

.

.

A Name.

He once had a Name: gifted to him by himself.

A Title, spread around by his peers.

.

.

.

He blinked. His dirty-blue eyes glinted under the reflection of his glasses as he focused back on the scene in front of him.

He leaned his head to the side, discreetly stretching his neck as he tiredly exhaled. His mind usually wandered to the blond on the island these days, and that annoyed him.

His obsidian hair was pulled back by some gel; he donned a classy black suit with dark blue stripes.

Kyoya did not feel out of his element as he wore such an attire. He did not feel weird attending a friend's wedding either. In his former life, as an Ootori, such events and getups were regular.

Nevertheless, out of habit, and undoubtedly like most of the guests, Kyoya kept one of his trusted weapons on his person. Just in case, of course. The cold feeling of the scalpel against his skin put his mind at ease, much like the slight, unnoticeable bump created by his gun.

Kyoya's eyes swept over the room as he snatched a glass of champagne from one of the waiters. As he found a familiar figure close to the buffet, he began to make his way over it.

The man, the obj— his target was tall, raven-headed, with a pair of captivating cool-blue eyes and a fitting dark blue suit. If one squinted enough, they would notice the very thin black stripes that littered the outfit.

"Takashi," he greeted.

The man returned the greeting with his own. A ghost of a smile hovered his lips as the edge of his eyes softened.

"Are you enjoying the ceremony?"

Takashi looked over at the newlywed for a second.

The bride wore a beautiful gown; she was radiant.

The groom donned a ravishing tuxedo; he was lovestruck.

"They seem happy."

The words quickly slipped Takashi's mouth. He felt happy for the couple; they were, in a way, friends after all.

Weddings usually made Takashi think of Mikoto, his former wife. It also brought memories of Mitsukuni, the first one to marry within their group of friends. For some reason, his mind drifted further than usual today; a feeling he was getting too friendly with (again) bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

He brushed it off.

(as he always did

as he would always do)

"Are you happy, Kyoya?"

Kyoya blinked, unsure of the answer he should be providing. He was not unhappy per se, but he wasn't sure if he was content either.

"Quite, yes," he answered with practiced ease before he set his champagne glass down.

He did not spare Takashi another second before he walked away from the taller raven head.

Kyoya a— appreciated Takashi. It was a given.

He indeed l— liked him more than before.

It was evident that the context brought them closer than underclassmen and upperclassmen.

As he made his way through the crowd, Kyoya's mind ignored Takashi's question and drifted to Irina— the bride. It made him think of his former bride.

He wondered if he would love again as he loved her.

(he already knew the answer)

These thoughts made him somewhat homesick. He mused over—

Her, and her beautiful brown eyes—

Her, and her luscious blond hair—

Her, and her melodious voice—

Yes, a bit like the figure of that girl that he began to make out from the other side of the reception.

The woman's stature looked similar, as did the feeling she gave off. Her hair was longer, and a darker shade too.

Kyoya felt some strange feelings tugging at his heart; his head throbbed. A bit like when he first met Takashi, in fact—

Her, and her seemingly undying love—

His pace quickened for reasons unknown to himself. Although he did miss her, he did not think that he missed their love either. It was as if the past wanted them to meet again pushing his body or soul to react and march forward— or he was hallucinating, he hoped it was the second option.

"Excuse-me—"

She had eyes, a beautiful shade of golden brown.

His words caught in his throat. He saw her stiffen up and noticed how her breathing hitched. Her mesmerizing eyes seemed to flash, she frowned, a headache overcoming her as she stumbled on her feet.

"Ah— careful," Kyoya cautioned, arms automatically reaching to support her frail figure.

He did not know if she was frail. He doubted it from how her body felt, but some filter seemed to be messing with his mind.

"I—" the girl stuttered as she looked up at Kyoya's eyes. Her brown eyes gleamed with foreign familiarity. "Kyo?" she whispered, unsure.

There was a spring breeze in Kyoya's heart. He felt relieved, and a soft smile bloomed on his lips. "Dar— Renge," he acknowledged, barely correcting himself.

He did not like how the influence of the past was so strong over his current feelings.

He let go of her form, the loss of her warmth not as impactful as it once was before he corrected his smile to something more professional. "It's been a while."

She nodded, eyes dodging his.

Kyoya took notice of it, minutely frowned before resuming. "How have you been? I did not know that you knew the newlyweds. Are you an acquaintance of the groom?" he politely questioned, neither too familiar nor too unfamiliar.

His detached manner somewhat reassured Renge, who met his eyes before smiling. "I've been well, thank you. I'm actually the wedding planner. That's why I'm attending," she explained. "How about you, K-Kyoya," she stuttered, the name feeling both foreign and familiar.

Kyoya noted how she seemed to readily accept her memories (perhaps because of her former passion for time-traveling and the likes) before he carried on. "I see. I've been well, thank you. The bride is my sister," he introduced.

It seemed to surprise Renge, but she didn't comment on it.

Looking at her eyes, Kyoya noticed how similar they were to his. There was only faded affection in them. The feeling seemed more similar to the melancholy one held for a friend they lost touch with.

For some reason, although it made him slightly uncomfortable, Kyoya felt relief.

"Uhm, Kyoya, I have to g—"

"Dear, here you are."

The voice cut, Kyoya did not need his skills as an assassin or host to know who the man was. From Renge's reaction, the man's words, and their matching rings, it was evident.

His dirty-blue eyes flickered to the man. He gave him an acknowledging smile before he looked at Renge.

"The venue is truly breathtaking. I'll be sure to contact you when I marry," Kyoya asserted with a polite smile and friendly handshake. His gloved hand slipped from Renge's palm as he turned on his heels.

Selfishly, he did not want to ask for her contact information.

He did not want to meet her again.

She was a beautiful and comforting past, yes.

But what Kyoya wanted was a different kind of present.

He felt closure over her all of a sudden.

The yearning of the past was reduced to almost nothingness, making his current emotion clearer to himself.

He wanted to confess.

He knew he had to.

Unlike himself, they did not trust their feelings enough.

Kyoya would do it then.

He would allow himself to be content, happy.

He'd put a Name on these feelings.

And finiiished!

I would like to thank all of you for reading and supporting "Sweet As Honey."  The concept for this book really just popped up when I was coming back from uni lmao (yay me), knowing that you guys enjoyed it really makes it all the more enjoyable for me :)

It's always a bit sad when a book ends, but better a completed one than a discontinued one? That's what I'm telling myself anyway—

On a side note, do tell me what you thought overall, I appreciate all type of criticism too so don't be afraid to tell me some parts were bad or intelligible =>

Also if you have any unanswered questions from the plot, be my guest ;) =>

AN: I noticed that a few of you were confused about the blond guy in the previous chapter (briefly mentioned in this one), he is Koro-sensei's former student; Koro-sensei died as per Canon but used the cure on his student during the confrontation :)
I believe that in the case Koro or his student were to get cured, the authorities would do their best to capture them as they represent too much of a threat. Which led to the Epilogue I.