Fic: Belong (Ouran High School Host Club)
Title: Belong
Author: blowfishtmt
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Pairing/characters: Haruhi, implied Haruhi/Tamaki
Rating: PG-13 max
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Ouran High School Host club, nor will I make any profit from this.
Prompt: Haruhi, she doesn't care which gender people think she is, because she doesn't particularly see herself as one or the other.
Summary: Haruhi Fujioka is used to assumptions. She's dealt with them all her life.
Warnings: slight swearing, minor transphobia
Author's notes: Right down to the wire, geez. Thanks to Quark for the beta, you're unendingly fabulous to me.
Haruhi Fujioka is a skinny child, all bones and angles dressed in oversized t-shirts. When she is six years old her hair barely brushes her shoulders, and her new neighbors instantly take her for a boy. After she comes closer to greet them, they hesitate.
"Such an adorable…child," they say haltingly to the pretty, long-skirted person they assume is her mother. Even at six, Haruhi can see their eyes pause on her father's firm chin and sharp brow, things he can never hide under make-up or dresses, not that he cares to. They are obviously waiting for some sort of cue.
"The most adorable child in the world," he coos, patting her head. She tries to wriggle out from under his hand, embarrassed, but it's mostly an act. Haruhi loves her father dearly, over-enthusiastic parental gushing and all.
Her father primps and prepares for work in the evenings while she learns to cook from her late mother's recipe cards. They make idle conversation until he finally leaves, smearing lipstick on her cheek where he kisses her. She'll receive a matching one on her opposite cheek when he comes home. Her family is poor and small, but Haruhi is happy and her life at home is simple.
School is not so simple.
At first, things are fine. Haruhi is polite if not outgoing, and her sharp mind never fails to win her the affection of her teachers. Other children are put off by her quiet demeanor at first, but eventually friends, too, come easily.
Eventually comes the question, "What does your father do?"
It's the first time anyone's ever asked her, so she answers as completely and truthfully as she knows how. Her confused friends laugh it off and share their own stories about their parents. Then those parents find out, and those friends don't talk to her anymore. Haruhi is confused; she doesn't know what she's done wrong. It isn't until word gets around quickly that Haruhi's papa is "funny," and people begin to give her odd looks that she realizes her mistake. She arrives home with her shoulders slumped in defeat and her father pats her head.
"Some people just don't understand," he says, "You didn't do anything wrong. And for your information, I will give those mothers the talking-to of their life when I see them at Parent's Day!" He huffs and sticks out his chest. "I'll bet I'm much prettier than any of them, right Haruhi?"
The corners of her mouth twitch upward and she nods, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist in a tight hug.
When Parents Day does come around, she sees his exhaustion and it's all she can do to get him to stay in bed. She wants to let everybody know that she is not ashamed of him, not ashamed of herself, but when she arrives alone to school that day the damage is done.
---
Middle school comes and very little changes. Haruhi Fujioka remains polite and warm, still sharp as ever, but there is a wall up around her, and no one gets through. Her friends don't know a lot about her, aside from the basics: Her mother is dead, her father works in a bar, and they don't have a lot of money. If she has hobbies, she doesn't talk about them; she has a single and all-consuming ambition, to become a lawyer like her mother. She does not date boys, though she receives countless propositions. She rejects them all with an apologetic smile, quickly returning to her reading. Haruhi Fujioka studies, and not much else.
As she grows, girls compare chests while boys compare heights. Haruhi finds herself struggling. She doesn't care very much about attracting boys (or girls, for that matter) and she doesn't much like the way her lithe form has been slowly changing. Her frame remains slight and her bust modest, but her widening hips threaten to destroy her favorite pair of jeans.
In the winter, her growing breasts disappear under a well-arranged ensemble of scarves and jackets wound tight over her school uniform. She has always preferred more utilitarian clothing but she doesn't mind the skirt; her father shoves enough frilly clothing at her that she is used to it by now.
Her classmates whisper about "tomboy Fujioka" in-between classes:
"She's a bit frigid, isn't she?"
"I don't know, she's always nice to me!"
"Yeah, but does it ever seem faked to you? It's like she thinks she's better than the rest of us."
"More like she's playing hard-to-get."
"With the way she covers herself up? Yeah right. Little Miss Modest."
"Little Miss Man!"
Their conversation and tittering dissolve into a thick silence when Haruhi enters the room, but she just finds her seat and cracks open her algebra book, pretending to have heard nothing.
---
The week before she arrives at Ouran Academy, a wad of gum finds its way from the hand of the neighbor's toddler into her hair and she chops it off with little fanfare. The boy's mother apologizes endlessly ("And your hair is so lovely, too!") but Haruhi could really care less. She liked her long hair, but finds that having it this short for the first time is actually very nice. It's low-maintenance, anyway. Her father wails that she should style it more fashionably, but it lays flat on her head when combed and that's all she can really ask.
The school uniform is far too expensive for them to afford, but unflappable Haruhi is there for studying and not appearances, so this does not bother her much. Nor does it bother her when all of her classmates address her as "Fujioka-kun" on her first day; if and when they do realize the mistake, it will be their problem, not hers. She has dealt with assumptions and whispers for so long now that she no longer builds up any sort of anticipation of understanding. Haruhi Fujioka knows what to expect out of her life.
So when Haruhi Fujioka finds herself millions of yen in debt, dressed in a brand new boy's uniform, sipping tea, and being flirted with by girls she barely knows, it's hardly surprising she feels out of her element.
It does get easier with time. Haruhi would hardly call herself a social creature, but the Host Club brings out her inner charmer--she is, as Kyoya puts it, the Club's "natural." Haruhi can't help but think that she's taking after her father, becoming an entertainer of sorts. Just like her father, the boys tend to assume that her performance is strictly an act (be a boy, pay off the debt, and get the hell out of here), and just like her father it's never entirely true. Finding the Host Club is a strange, unexpected happiness. The first few weeks are spent staring at the clock and mentally counting off her debt, but at some point she starts actually looking forward to running up each and every step in the long staircase to the music room after classes are out.
She likes the dress-up, the over-the-top themed days that Tamaki plans with earnest excitement. She likes the enthusiastic conversation, the overly-invested girls who are so genuine in their interest that she can't help but be impressed. She likes being lauded and appreciated for the qualities that have so often caused her to be teased and ignored, not having to fake politeness, being able to be blunt with these young men who are slowly becoming the most important people in her life.
Her less-than-wonderful first impressions of each boy give way to an appreciative understanding. She wouldn't say that they are the only friends she's ever had, but they are the first with whom she feels so incredibly comfortable. All of them, like her, hide in their own little ways; their faces are masked by lies of omission, never giving away the whole secret. She doubts that she will ever understand them completely (in some ways, she prefers Kyoya to remain a mystery) but the little bits and pieces they trade day-to-day are something she cherishes like nothing before.
She likes to think that they understand her too, at least a little. She tells herself that she's never really needed anyone's approval and she doesn't need it now, but for the first time she can't help but hope for someone to see her without judgement.
---
Naturally, it's Tamaki who makes everything go to shit.
She doesn't even remember what the argument was originally about--Haruhi not conducting herself with enough "dignity as a host" or something similarly mundane, usually having to do with her refusal to contribute to one of his ridiculous ideas. The real problem is when Tamaki takes it back to the old, tired line:
"This wouldn't even be a problem if you just acted like a normal girl--"
He's said it a million times, a million different ways. Sometimes he's serious, sometimes not, but each and every time it has grated on her slightly worse; at first it didn't bother her much (she's used to such comments after all) but now something inside her snaps violently.
"Will you shut up?"
Tamaki is caught off-guard, mid-rant; he manages, "Uh?"
"Do you ever listen to yourself? Do you even hear the words coming from your mouth? God, you are such a--" She cuts herself off because she can feel the rising lump in her throat and the last thing she wants is for any of them to hear her voice crack and rise an octave. Tamaki is just staring at her now, and so is everyone else; even Kyoya's eyes raise a fraction from his book. They all recognize that this argument has taken a turn from the usual snippy back-and-forth. Haruhi feels like if she lets the silence hang a moment longer, someone will step in and make an even worse mess of things.
She breathes and says, "Just…forget it. Forget it."
Haruhi storms off and immediately feels guilty. Tamaki irritates her often enough, but she can count the times she's actually been angry with him on one hand. Even when she is angry, she almost never yells. She snarks, she snipes, she gets even, but she never yells. He deserved it, she thinks, feeling her stomach twist. Jerk, she adds for good measure.
Haruhi is hardly one to wear her feelings on her sleeve, but when she is angry people know enough to stay out of her way. The girls give her passing glances and smiles in the hall, but don't approach her. Hikaru tries to go up to her several times in class, but Kaoru rests a hand on his brother's arm, shakes his head, and that is that. Mori and Honey know better, watching from afar. Kyoya is nowhere to be seen.
By the time she sits down for lunch alone by the fountain outside, Haruhi just feels tired. So when Tamaki appears out of nowhere and carefully slides next to her, she doesn't bother even glaring at him. They sit there quietly for a long time. Finally, Tamaki speaks.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"Don't apologize without knowing why you're even doing it," she mutters. He gives her a frustrated look.
"I know I hurt you, somehow. Can't I say sorry for that?" he pleaded. When she says nothing and takes another bite out of her sandwich, it's all Tamaki can do to keep from screaming. "All I did was say how pretty you would look if--"
"If I acted more like a 'normal' girl? God, why does everyone say that?"
Tamaki stares at her, confused and exasperated. He bites back the retort rising in his throat because for a split second Haruhi looks as if she may cry. He's never seen her look quite this way, but in a moment the expression is gone, her familiar coolness back in place. Tamaki suddenly realizes that he has somehow waded into a much more dangerous waters than he had originally thought.
"Haruhi," he begins tentatively, "how do you…see yourself?" She doesn't meet his eyes, focusing instead on the fountain's myriad statues.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean when we met, you said to me that you had a lower consciousness of your gender than most people. What exactly did you mean by that?"
Haruhi is completely still. No one has ever asked her outright; no one other than her father has even thought enough about it. If they continue, there will be no going back. She is reminded of the fight on the beach in Kyoto, of that moment where she tried to keep her balance before being pushed off the cliff, that moment of complete and terrifying uncertainty before plunging over the edge and all the way down into the raging ocean. She takes a deep breath.
"I meant exactly what I said. I don't really see myself definitively as a boy or a girl. Everyone seems to have this very strong idea of being one or the other but that's just not me. I know you probably think it's weird, Tamaki-sempai, but I don't really mind being taken for a guy. People are free to assume whatever they want about me, I just…"
"Just?" he prompts.
"I don't like being shoved into a box. It happens a lot and I'm used to it, but when it's…when it's one of you guys, it matters. The Club, I mean. You guys are…" Somehow, she can't quite bring herself to say it out loud, how much they mean to her.
(How much he means to her.)
"Oh," is all Tamaki can say. Her face feels far too hot and her eyes are stinging slightly now. Dammit, she thinks. This isn't supposed to happen, it's not supposed to be important. She steadies herself and the walls go back up.
"I'm not expecting you to get it or anything," she says, laughing and smiling as genuinely as she can manage. "Not that you're not smart enough or something! I mean, it's pretty strange." Tamaki doesn't laugh with her. He just sits and looks at her for the longest time, and she wishes he'd stop. Finally he turns away from her, facing the sky, and casually folds his arms behind his head.
"Maybe it is," Tamaki says. "On the other hand…" He turns to look her straight in the eyes. "If you weren't so 'strange,' I doubt you would have ended up at the Host Club in the first place. Then we never would have met you and gotten to know you."
Then his lips part and he smiles, he smiles with every single one of his perfect teeth and she feels her chest tighten as if her heart might burst.
"Ah!" he cries suddenly, looking panicked. "We've probably been saying terrible things all along without knowing it, haven't we? I don't know what's proper for this sort of situation. We should really have a meeting about this--" Before he can go any further, she puts a hand up to his mouth. He is about to apologize again, but she bursts into a fit of giggles. Soon she's laughing so hard she takes her hand away from his mouth to puts it over her own. His nose wrinkles up in embarrassment. "What's so funny? I'm trying my best to be sensitive, you know!"
"I know, I know!" she laughs. "You're just…you're really something, Tamaki-sempai."
He doesn't know what to say to that.
"I'm still Haruhi," she adds. "I'm still me, so don't worry about that."
"Alright," he says indignantly. "I just thought I'd ask." His face softens and he takes her hand; it's a very forward gesture, he's surprised when she doesn't pull away. "I'm glad," he says.
"For what?"
"That you are you. The others would say the same." He shuffles his feet. "And I really am sorry for what I said."
"I know. Apology accepted."
---
"So Boss," Hikaru says to Tamaki later as he arrives in the music room, "did you end up apologizing?"
"Did you grovel?" asks Kaoru.
"Did you bring offerings?"
"Animal sacrifices, maybe?"
Tamaki forgoes his usual dramatic response but glares daggers at the giggling brothers across the room. This of course only redoubles their desire to tease him.
"You're awfully lucky, Boss," Kaoru says. "Haruhi can hold a grudge when she wants to."
"Yeah, she can be pretty scary," agreed Hikaru.
"Oh, can she?"
The twins freeze in unison and turn to see Haruhi standing in the door, a terrifyingly dark expression on her face.
"Uh--"
"That is--"
"We meant--"
"Oh, save it," she says, cracking a smile. Their shoulders relax as she crosses the room away from them to sit on the couch next to Tamaki. "I hardly need your shenanigans first thing when I come in here."
"Yet you keep coming back," says Hikaru, back to his gentle teasing now that he sees her at ease. "We're too charming to resist."
"You got me. I'm hopelessly enthralled." She rolls her eyes but gives Tamaki a secret sort of smile, which he returns. The twins continue to dance circles around them while Kyoya, Mori, and Honey file in at their own pace, and all she can think is this really is where she belongs.
Author: blowfishtmt
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Pairing/characters: Haruhi, implied Haruhi/Tamaki
Rating: PG-13 max
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Ouran High School Host club, nor will I make any profit from this.
Prompt: Haruhi, she doesn't care which gender people think she is, because she doesn't particularly see herself as one or the other.
Summary: Haruhi Fujioka is used to assumptions. She's dealt with them all her life.
Warnings: slight swearing, minor transphobia
Author's notes: Right down to the wire, geez. Thanks to Quark for the beta, you're unendingly fabulous to me.
Haruhi Fujioka is a skinny child, all bones and angles dressed in oversized t-shirts. When she is six years old her hair barely brushes her shoulders, and her new neighbors instantly take her for a boy. After she comes closer to greet them, they hesitate.
"Such an adorable…child," they say haltingly to the pretty, long-skirted person they assume is her mother. Even at six, Haruhi can see their eyes pause on her father's firm chin and sharp brow, things he can never hide under make-up or dresses, not that he cares to. They are obviously waiting for some sort of cue.
"The most adorable child in the world," he coos, patting her head. She tries to wriggle out from under his hand, embarrassed, but it's mostly an act. Haruhi loves her father dearly, over-enthusiastic parental gushing and all.
Her father primps and prepares for work in the evenings while she learns to cook from her late mother's recipe cards. They make idle conversation until he finally leaves, smearing lipstick on her cheek where he kisses her. She'll receive a matching one on her opposite cheek when he comes home. Her family is poor and small, but Haruhi is happy and her life at home is simple.
School is not so simple.
At first, things are fine. Haruhi is polite if not outgoing, and her sharp mind never fails to win her the affection of her teachers. Other children are put off by her quiet demeanor at first, but eventually friends, too, come easily.
Eventually comes the question, "What does your father do?"
It's the first time anyone's ever asked her, so she answers as completely and truthfully as she knows how. Her confused friends laugh it off and share their own stories about their parents. Then those parents find out, and those friends don't talk to her anymore. Haruhi is confused; she doesn't know what she's done wrong. It isn't until word gets around quickly that Haruhi's papa is "funny," and people begin to give her odd looks that she realizes her mistake. She arrives home with her shoulders slumped in defeat and her father pats her head.
"Some people just don't understand," he says, "You didn't do anything wrong. And for your information, I will give those mothers the talking-to of their life when I see them at Parent's Day!" He huffs and sticks out his chest. "I'll bet I'm much prettier than any of them, right Haruhi?"
The corners of her mouth twitch upward and she nods, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist in a tight hug.
When Parents Day does come around, she sees his exhaustion and it's all she can do to get him to stay in bed. She wants to let everybody know that she is not ashamed of him, not ashamed of herself, but when she arrives alone to school that day the damage is done.
---
Middle school comes and very little changes. Haruhi Fujioka remains polite and warm, still sharp as ever, but there is a wall up around her, and no one gets through. Her friends don't know a lot about her, aside from the basics: Her mother is dead, her father works in a bar, and they don't have a lot of money. If she has hobbies, she doesn't talk about them; she has a single and all-consuming ambition, to become a lawyer like her mother. She does not date boys, though she receives countless propositions. She rejects them all with an apologetic smile, quickly returning to her reading. Haruhi Fujioka studies, and not much else.
As she grows, girls compare chests while boys compare heights. Haruhi finds herself struggling. She doesn't care very much about attracting boys (or girls, for that matter) and she doesn't much like the way her lithe form has been slowly changing. Her frame remains slight and her bust modest, but her widening hips threaten to destroy her favorite pair of jeans.
In the winter, her growing breasts disappear under a well-arranged ensemble of scarves and jackets wound tight over her school uniform. She has always preferred more utilitarian clothing but she doesn't mind the skirt; her father shoves enough frilly clothing at her that she is used to it by now.
Her classmates whisper about "tomboy Fujioka" in-between classes:
"She's a bit frigid, isn't she?"
"I don't know, she's always nice to me!"
"Yeah, but does it ever seem faked to you? It's like she thinks she's better than the rest of us."
"More like she's playing hard-to-get."
"With the way she covers herself up? Yeah right. Little Miss Modest."
"Little Miss Man!"
Their conversation and tittering dissolve into a thick silence when Haruhi enters the room, but she just finds her seat and cracks open her algebra book, pretending to have heard nothing.
---
The week before she arrives at Ouran Academy, a wad of gum finds its way from the hand of the neighbor's toddler into her hair and she chops it off with little fanfare. The boy's mother apologizes endlessly ("And your hair is so lovely, too!") but Haruhi could really care less. She liked her long hair, but finds that having it this short for the first time is actually very nice. It's low-maintenance, anyway. Her father wails that she should style it more fashionably, but it lays flat on her head when combed and that's all she can really ask.
The school uniform is far too expensive for them to afford, but unflappable Haruhi is there for studying and not appearances, so this does not bother her much. Nor does it bother her when all of her classmates address her as "Fujioka-kun" on her first day; if and when they do realize the mistake, it will be their problem, not hers. She has dealt with assumptions and whispers for so long now that she no longer builds up any sort of anticipation of understanding. Haruhi Fujioka knows what to expect out of her life.
So when Haruhi Fujioka finds herself millions of yen in debt, dressed in a brand new boy's uniform, sipping tea, and being flirted with by girls she barely knows, it's hardly surprising she feels out of her element.
It does get easier with time. Haruhi would hardly call herself a social creature, but the Host Club brings out her inner charmer--she is, as Kyoya puts it, the Club's "natural." Haruhi can't help but think that she's taking after her father, becoming an entertainer of sorts. Just like her father, the boys tend to assume that her performance is strictly an act (be a boy, pay off the debt, and get the hell out of here), and just like her father it's never entirely true. Finding the Host Club is a strange, unexpected happiness. The first few weeks are spent staring at the clock and mentally counting off her debt, but at some point she starts actually looking forward to running up each and every step in the long staircase to the music room after classes are out.
She likes the dress-up, the over-the-top themed days that Tamaki plans with earnest excitement. She likes the enthusiastic conversation, the overly-invested girls who are so genuine in their interest that she can't help but be impressed. She likes being lauded and appreciated for the qualities that have so often caused her to be teased and ignored, not having to fake politeness, being able to be blunt with these young men who are slowly becoming the most important people in her life.
Her less-than-wonderful first impressions of each boy give way to an appreciative understanding. She wouldn't say that they are the only friends she's ever had, but they are the first with whom she feels so incredibly comfortable. All of them, like her, hide in their own little ways; their faces are masked by lies of omission, never giving away the whole secret. She doubts that she will ever understand them completely (in some ways, she prefers Kyoya to remain a mystery) but the little bits and pieces they trade day-to-day are something she cherishes like nothing before.
She likes to think that they understand her too, at least a little. She tells herself that she's never really needed anyone's approval and she doesn't need it now, but for the first time she can't help but hope for someone to see her without judgement.
---
Naturally, it's Tamaki who makes everything go to shit.
She doesn't even remember what the argument was originally about--Haruhi not conducting herself with enough "dignity as a host" or something similarly mundane, usually having to do with her refusal to contribute to one of his ridiculous ideas. The real problem is when Tamaki takes it back to the old, tired line:
"This wouldn't even be a problem if you just acted like a normal girl--"
He's said it a million times, a million different ways. Sometimes he's serious, sometimes not, but each and every time it has grated on her slightly worse; at first it didn't bother her much (she's used to such comments after all) but now something inside her snaps violently.
"Will you shut up?"
Tamaki is caught off-guard, mid-rant; he manages, "Uh?"
"Do you ever listen to yourself? Do you even hear the words coming from your mouth? God, you are such a--" She cuts herself off because she can feel the rising lump in her throat and the last thing she wants is for any of them to hear her voice crack and rise an octave. Tamaki is just staring at her now, and so is everyone else; even Kyoya's eyes raise a fraction from his book. They all recognize that this argument has taken a turn from the usual snippy back-and-forth. Haruhi feels like if she lets the silence hang a moment longer, someone will step in and make an even worse mess of things.
She breathes and says, "Just…forget it. Forget it."
Haruhi storms off and immediately feels guilty. Tamaki irritates her often enough, but she can count the times she's actually been angry with him on one hand. Even when she is angry, she almost never yells. She snarks, she snipes, she gets even, but she never yells. He deserved it, she thinks, feeling her stomach twist. Jerk, she adds for good measure.
Haruhi is hardly one to wear her feelings on her sleeve, but when she is angry people know enough to stay out of her way. The girls give her passing glances and smiles in the hall, but don't approach her. Hikaru tries to go up to her several times in class, but Kaoru rests a hand on his brother's arm, shakes his head, and that is that. Mori and Honey know better, watching from afar. Kyoya is nowhere to be seen.
By the time she sits down for lunch alone by the fountain outside, Haruhi just feels tired. So when Tamaki appears out of nowhere and carefully slides next to her, she doesn't bother even glaring at him. They sit there quietly for a long time. Finally, Tamaki speaks.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"Don't apologize without knowing why you're even doing it," she mutters. He gives her a frustrated look.
"I know I hurt you, somehow. Can't I say sorry for that?" he pleaded. When she says nothing and takes another bite out of her sandwich, it's all Tamaki can do to keep from screaming. "All I did was say how pretty you would look if--"
"If I acted more like a 'normal' girl? God, why does everyone say that?"
Tamaki stares at her, confused and exasperated. He bites back the retort rising in his throat because for a split second Haruhi looks as if she may cry. He's never seen her look quite this way, but in a moment the expression is gone, her familiar coolness back in place. Tamaki suddenly realizes that he has somehow waded into a much more dangerous waters than he had originally thought.
"Haruhi," he begins tentatively, "how do you…see yourself?" She doesn't meet his eyes, focusing instead on the fountain's myriad statues.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean when we met, you said to me that you had a lower consciousness of your gender than most people. What exactly did you mean by that?"
Haruhi is completely still. No one has ever asked her outright; no one other than her father has even thought enough about it. If they continue, there will be no going back. She is reminded of the fight on the beach in Kyoto, of that moment where she tried to keep her balance before being pushed off the cliff, that moment of complete and terrifying uncertainty before plunging over the edge and all the way down into the raging ocean. She takes a deep breath.
"I meant exactly what I said. I don't really see myself definitively as a boy or a girl. Everyone seems to have this very strong idea of being one or the other but that's just not me. I know you probably think it's weird, Tamaki-sempai, but I don't really mind being taken for a guy. People are free to assume whatever they want about me, I just…"
"Just?" he prompts.
"I don't like being shoved into a box. It happens a lot and I'm used to it, but when it's…when it's one of you guys, it matters. The Club, I mean. You guys are…" Somehow, she can't quite bring herself to say it out loud, how much they mean to her.
(How much he means to her.)
"Oh," is all Tamaki can say. Her face feels far too hot and her eyes are stinging slightly now. Dammit, she thinks. This isn't supposed to happen, it's not supposed to be important. She steadies herself and the walls go back up.
"I'm not expecting you to get it or anything," she says, laughing and smiling as genuinely as she can manage. "Not that you're not smart enough or something! I mean, it's pretty strange." Tamaki doesn't laugh with her. He just sits and looks at her for the longest time, and she wishes he'd stop. Finally he turns away from her, facing the sky, and casually folds his arms behind his head.
"Maybe it is," Tamaki says. "On the other hand…" He turns to look her straight in the eyes. "If you weren't so 'strange,' I doubt you would have ended up at the Host Club in the first place. Then we never would have met you and gotten to know you."
Then his lips part and he smiles, he smiles with every single one of his perfect teeth and she feels her chest tighten as if her heart might burst.
"Ah!" he cries suddenly, looking panicked. "We've probably been saying terrible things all along without knowing it, haven't we? I don't know what's proper for this sort of situation. We should really have a meeting about this--" Before he can go any further, she puts a hand up to his mouth. He is about to apologize again, but she bursts into a fit of giggles. Soon she's laughing so hard she takes her hand away from his mouth to puts it over her own. His nose wrinkles up in embarrassment. "What's so funny? I'm trying my best to be sensitive, you know!"
"I know, I know!" she laughs. "You're just…you're really something, Tamaki-sempai."
He doesn't know what to say to that.
"I'm still Haruhi," she adds. "I'm still me, so don't worry about that."
"Alright," he says indignantly. "I just thought I'd ask." His face softens and he takes her hand; it's a very forward gesture, he's surprised when she doesn't pull away. "I'm glad," he says.
"For what?"
"That you are you. The others would say the same." He shuffles his feet. "And I really am sorry for what I said."
"I know. Apology accepted."
---
"So Boss," Hikaru says to Tamaki later as he arrives in the music room, "did you end up apologizing?"
"Did you grovel?" asks Kaoru.
"Did you bring offerings?"
"Animal sacrifices, maybe?"
Tamaki forgoes his usual dramatic response but glares daggers at the giggling brothers across the room. This of course only redoubles their desire to tease him.
"You're awfully lucky, Boss," Kaoru says. "Haruhi can hold a grudge when she wants to."
"Yeah, she can be pretty scary," agreed Hikaru.
"Oh, can she?"
The twins freeze in unison and turn to see Haruhi standing in the door, a terrifyingly dark expression on her face.
"Uh--"
"That is--"
"We meant--"
"Oh, save it," she says, cracking a smile. Their shoulders relax as she crosses the room away from them to sit on the couch next to Tamaki. "I hardly need your shenanigans first thing when I come in here."
"Yet you keep coming back," says Hikaru, back to his gentle teasing now that he sees her at ease. "We're too charming to resist."
"You got me. I'm hopelessly enthralled." She rolls her eyes but gives Tamaki a secret sort of smile, which he returns. The twins continue to dance circles around them while Kyoya, Mori, and Honey file in at their own pace, and all she can think is this really is where she belongs.