fic: Christmas Eve Cakes and Miracles 2/3
Title: Christmas Eve Cakes and Miracles
Fandom: Host Club
Pairings/Characters: Haruhi/Tamaki (minor Kyouya/Kaoru, Mori/Hunny, Hikaru)
Rating: PG
Summary: Christmas Cake - Slang for an unmarried girl over 25. "Nobody wants Christmas cake after the 25th." Haruhi won't become one with Tamaki so obviously entranced with her, right? A humorous holiday story about love and Christmas-eve epiphanies.
chapter one
chapter one-point-five (extra)
::::
Christmas Eve Cakes and Miracles
::::
Tamaki slammed the phone down with a little more force than necessary. While at first he had been absolutely delighted with his new revelation-that he really did like Haruhi, and that he really wasn't her father, so it was okay-he was now in a state of immense depression and anxiety. At first he hadn't given it much thought: the fact that maybe Haruhi wouldn't return his feelings, that is. Sure, it'd crossed his mind, but he'd still hoped for the best and planned on baring his soul.
That's when he remembered the tiny print he'd read on the calendar just earlier that very day: confession.
Haruhi would definitely reject him-because she obviously already had someone else in mind. The man she was going to confess to was probably much better than him anyhow. He was probably a commoner, like Haruhi, and therefor he would already understand all of her customs and strange ways of life. He'd probably never asked questions like how do you open the dishwasher, or how do you change a light bulb. He probably knew how to vacuum and he'd probably been making instant coffee since before Tamaki was born.
The two of them probably discussed how fancy tuna was the best thing in the whole world, and how much they hated selfish, rich bastards. He probably had muscles too-Haruhi probably liked that-not like Tamaki at all, all lean and thin and impractically scrawny.
What did Haruhi like in boys, anyway?
Violet eyes shifted, studying the picture frame on his bedside table. It was a picture that had been taken on the last day of school, one of the entire Host Club. Even Renge was there. Everyone was smiling and looking happy, and surprisingly, Haruhi was dressed in Ouran's female uniform.
She'd decided to wear it on the on the last day of school, to finally reveal the truth-the shock and surprise had been monumental-with Renge's reaction being particularly extreme. Some of the girls had seemed rather embarrassed at having ever thought that Haruhi was handsome, but otherwise the day had gone surprisingly smoothly. While at first Renge seemed angry about the whole ordeal, it didn't take more than a few hours for her to quickly confess that she still liked Haruhi anyway, boobs and all. No one had really been all that surprised about the revelation, either.
Suddenly an alarm went of in Tamaki's head.
“It is a boy that she's going to confess to...right?” He swallowed. Was his Haruhi also like that? Like Kaoru and Kyouya and Hunny and Mori? How? How could so many of them all lean in that direction? It was beginning to seem more and more like perhaps he and Hikaru were merely the heterosexual side characters, instead of the other way around!
“It-it can't be!” Tamaki shouted, panic overtaking his brain. For how long had Haruhi been this way? Why hadn't she ever told him? Was she afraid, did she think he was too judgmental?
What if it had been something she'd really been struggling with, and this entire time Tamaki hadn't even been given the chance to be there for her! What if she'd never given him the chance because she was creeped out because she could tell that he felt romantically about her! She couldn't tell, could she? Could everyone tell? For how long had everyone known?
Why was he always the last one to know?
Suddenly, he was struck with the very best idea. He would just go ahead and find out, right?
Mind reeling, he jumped up and scrambled for the necessary. A few minutes and a notepad later and Tamaki had mapped out his entire plan. It consisted of a series of questions, goals, and demonstrations, all of which, in the end, would tell him whether or not it was a boy or a girl that Haruhi was going to confess to. He intelligently dubbed it: Operation Find Out Haruhi's Sexuality.
He wasn't sure exactly why it was so important that he find out the gender of the person Haruhi he liked, but for some inexplicable reason, it really was. The idea that Haruhi liked a girl was really gnawing at his insides. If it was a boy Haruhi he liked-if Haruhi at least like boys-then he had somewhat of a chance, as small as it may be. With a girl, well-Tamaki couldn't turn himself into a girl!
Well, technically, he could, but that was something he really didn't want to spend too much time thinking about. At all.
With a deep breath Tamaki instantly had changed the subject. He tried instead to focus on the problem at hand. He liked to think of it as an investigation of sorts, with himself as the lead star; the very handsome and charismatic detective. As a detective, he knew that the best way to find information about a crime scene was to get in touch with the witnesses.
So, first things first.
The very first person he decided to call was Hikaru, for several reasons, however the most important reason simply being that Hikaru and Haruhi seemed to have formed a strange, rather close quasi-friendship over the years. Not to mention Hikaru didn't have any classes at the moment. He phoned him with excited fingers.
He began talking before Hikaru could even manage a mellow “Moshi, moshi.”
“Hikaru, do you know anything about Haruhi involving a...” his thumbs twitched. How could he word this without giving everything about the situation away? “Confession?” he finally managed. There was a cough on the other line. A very suspicious cough. Hikaru definitely knew something.
“Uh, no-not particularly...” More coughing. Even more suspicious. “Why do you ask? Maybe you'd be better off asking Kaoru anyway, he's much better at-”
Tamaki knew exactly what Hikaru was trying to do. He was attempting to defend Haruhi's honor, and keep his loyalty to her as a friend! While they were both very respectable traits-especially for someone like Hikaru-they really weren't going to help Tamaki at all. For the first time ever, he wished that Hikaru wasn't such a good guy. Why couldn't Haruhi have normal, secret-spilling, backstabbing friends? Weren't those the sort of friends girls were supposed to have anyway?
Unless it was different with Haruhi since Haruhi didn't want girls as just friends, she wanted to date girls-confess to girls! He began to tap his foot anxiously. Haruhi did have a lot of male friends, didn't she? And all those years at Ouran, coming to school everyday dressed as a boy; it had obviously done something to her fragile psyche. Or perhaps she'd always identified as a boy, right from the very beginning! Maybe that was why she'd gotten a haircut in the first place, and the whole bubblegum-in-hair story was merely a cover up!
Tamaki chewed on his lip.
The only female friend Haruhi really had ever had was Renge, and everyone knew how Renge was with Haruhi! All those years of Haruhi pretending to be a boy, flirting and chatting with girls all the while she was a girl! Why had he let such a thing go on?
Now he was paying for it. Now Haruhi didn't like boys at all! What if it was his fault? Could something like that even be someone else's fault? Tamaki wasn't exactly sure quite how things liked that worked. He didn't know what made a person lean in one direction or the other. Maybe it was pre-determined. Maybe it wasn't.
But with Haruhi he didn't know one way or the other! He just didn't know!
“Please, Hikaru! It'll just be between you and me, I promise! I really have to know! I can't have my daughter running of with any old crime-filled loser!” His cool detective demeanor was quickly crumpling, revealing the same old Tamaki, hysterical and afraid.
“It isn't a girl is it? Is Haruhi like Kyouya and Hunny? Is she?!” The blond sobbed openly into the phone, and Hikaru resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Surely Hikaru would understand, right? He was like Tamaki was, not like Kyouya and those guys. He had to understand how it was.
“Look Hikaru, me and you, we're the same! We can see eye-to-eye! I just need to know-” click. Hikaru had hung up. Just like that.
Most of the conversations with the other former-host club members fared about just the same, ending with silence on the other line and Tamaki in tears. No one, not even Kyouya, seemed to have a scrap of useful information regarding Haruhi and whether or not she liked girls or boys. If anything, they seemed to be hiding something. Perhaps something far worse and even more sinister than he'd originally imagined. Haruhi wasn't really involved with the Yakuza, was she? She wasn't that tight on cash, right?
Right?
If things continued at this rate, Christmas Eve was going to arrive before Tamaki found out anything-and then it would be too late. Haruhi would confess and the person-boy, girl, whatever-would obviously return her feelings. They had too. How could anyone not like Haruhi?
Resisting the urge to bawl and lapse into hysterics yet again, Tamaki forced himself to think clearly. Or at least attempt to. He tried mentally listing all the possible ways to gather information about someone, and then, out of nowhere, he found it-the perfect idea.
The Frenchman admonished that perhaps he'd been wrong, and that the real best way to gather factual information had been apparent all along: gossip. With a renewed burst of energy, he scrambled into the bathroom to shower and then change. Immediacy aside, one should always look their best. Nearly tripping over his fit on his way out the door, he grabbed his bag and bolted down the street.
The parking lot was bigger than he'd expected. Tamaki had been to Haruhi's University once before, but he'd never really looked at the finer details: the architecture or the colors, and hardly the size of the parking lot. The building structure itself was impressive. High cement walls and rows and rows of tiny rectangular windows; little decorative carvings ingrained around the perimeter of the doorways. It was rather, beautiful, Tamaki thought.
Despite the school's beauty, things weren't going so well. He'd been standing outside of the main entry way for six and a half hours, and still, not a soul seemed to have any useful information about a Haruhi Fujioka. No one.
“Excuse me, fair lady, but I was wondering-” The fair lady in question was an average looking college student with long, black hair tied into a high pony tail. She gave him a hardly-concealed suspicious look.
“Shove off, creep, or I'm going to report you to the school security,” She said, the disdain in her voice apparent. She turned heel, her scarf fluttering in the heavy, chill air as she walked away.
That was another problem. Even worse than the lack of information was the fact that most of students wouldn't even speak to him kindly. After just a few words they always looked at him as though he had buttoned up his shirt incorrectly. Perhaps commoners were merely suspicious of everyone?
“Excuse me, sir, but I wanted to know if-” The words had barely fallen from his lips when his eyes widened.
“Tamaki, why are you outside of my school?” a low voice asked flatly.
“H-Haruhi! You, ah, you're not wearing-I mean, you're, uh-you're dressed unusually today!” Tamaki had been pleased with Haruhi's recent interest in barrettes and cute clothing, but this, this was like Ouran all over again! She was wearing a vest over a long-sleeved shirt, and plain, black pants. He'd thought she was a boy! Again.
Haruhi refused to comment. “Why are you outside of my school? I told you I wouldn't be home until five today. I had English.” English? Haruhi really did like foreigners, didn't she?
“I was merely checking up on my daughter! Can't a father worry about her daughter? Is that such a crime?” The violet-eyed man swallowed.
“Well it very well may be. It looks like you're trespassing, you're going to get yourself into trouble, you know.”
Blond hair fell toward the pavement as Tamaki's head drooped. The whole investigation was going terribly. He'd wasted hours of life trying to find even the smallest scrap, the tiniest detail, and instead he'd found out nothing at all. Nothing. Even worse, time was not waiting for him. Christmas Eve was quickly approaching, and if he didn't find what was going on by tomorrow, all hope would be lost.
He glanced at the sky, briefly captured into how white it was today, in how wispy and broken apart the clouds looked. It was chill outside, and it had Tamaki shivering a bit, even through his heavy blue overcoat and long-sleeved white turtleneck. Most of the leaves had fallen from the trees, and he was beginning to feel like Mother Nature was mocking him, reminding him in every way possible that it was mid-December, and that soon, very soon, Christmas Eve would be here.
The thought crossed his mind that he ought to wear thicker pants, as well as the fact that he'd yet to buy anyone anything. Theoretically, Haruhi should have been the easiest Host Club member to buy for-she had so little-but in fact, she was the most difficult. While it was true that the the other host club members had nearly everything they wanted, it was much more difficult to buy for a person who wanted nothing at all, than a person who already had everything. With a person who has everything, you can always count on them to want to more.
Becoming increasingly sullen and feeling increasingly stupid with Haruhi standing in front of him and staring at him like that, he decided to go back home. Without another word, he began the long, treacherous three-block walk back toward the house, leaving Haruhi confused and frozen far behind him. For once, he managed to unlock the door without much trouble, and he let himself in to the empty house, feeling worse than he'd felt in ages.
Even if he didn't know how Haruhi he felt about girls or boys, it was precisely clear how she felt about him: she wanted nothing to do with him. He hadn't even received a warm greeting or a smile. Instead he'd gotten bored brown eyes and an annoyed voice asking him why he was there.
The blond could feel the tears well up in his eyes. There was no hope. It didn't even really matter if was a girl or a guy. What was the difference to Haruhi anyway? Either way, she was going to confess to someone tomorrow. The calendar said so. Haruhi had always been a very organized person, and if there was one thing she was good at, it was following through with plans.
Maybe if he'd of realized it sooner, asked her out way back in high school-god, he was such an idiot-there would have been time. Why hadn't anyone told him? No one eve told him anything! Why did everyone force him to waste so much time trying to figure things out on his own?
He sighed in defeat, and began crawling under the bed in hopes that no one would ever find him-that he could be left alone by himself to die and rot away until his body had completely decomposed. It did not cross his mind that he was being melodramatic. Really, it didn't.
Besides, if died under the bed next to the dust-bunnies and dirt, at least then he'd never have to know who Haruhi was going to confess to-who could possibly be so precious to her.
::::
The next morning was a Saturday, and Haruhi went about her daily routine the same way she always had: methodically. It didn't matter that it was Christmas Eve-she still needed a shower, her teeth still needed to be brushed, and someone still had to put the tea kettle on-certain things just couldn't be avoided.
Two and a half hours later, however, and thirty minutes into reading the newspaper, she realized, quite clearly, that something was being avoided: herself. Tamaki was very obviously avoiding her. After she'd returned home after the strange incident that had happened outside of her school, Tamaki had been nowhere to be found. She'd checked all the rooms, and called out his name several times, but the only answers she;d received had been that of her wet shoes squeaking against the linoleum tiles in the kitchen.
At first, it hadn't been anything to worry over. Tamaki needn't always be home, and he need not always cook dinner (or attempt to), and just because he wasn't in the house certainly did not mean that Haruhi felt lonely. Haruhi could be alone. She'd been alone for a long time before Tamaki had come along. Certainly she could do it for one night while Tamaki was over a friend's house or out doing whatever it was he was doing.
Honestly, that was the part that left her feeling like she was missing something.
Where could Tamaki have gone-and on the day before Christmas Eve no less? Last night she'd been tired, but now, eight hours of sleep later with tono still missing, worry was beginning to seep into her skin. Tamaki couldn't possibly be spending the holidays with someone else, could he? Not one to jump to conclusions, she resigned to calling Kyouya when she was finished with the newspaper.
She couldn't wait that long.
Thirteen seconds later she was dialing the Ootori residence with shaking fingers. After two rings, someone picked up.
“Kyouya, I'm sorry to bother you, but-”
“It's fine, it's fine,” laughter. Haruhi was relieved to realize that no, Kyouya wasn't laughing, but that it was merely Hikaru who had answered the phone. She let out a little laugh of relief herself.
“Oh, hi Hikaru, I was calling for Kyouya, is he around?”
“Um, he's, uh-actually out at the moment. I could tell him you called if you'd like?” Kyouya wasn't home? He was probably out with Tamaki-obviously-who else would Tamaki have gone out with?
“You haven't-Tamaki's not with him, is he?”
The was brief pause. “Not that I know of, why?” How could Tamaki not be with Kyouya? Rather steadily, her heart-rate was accelerating.
“It's just-it's nothing. Thanks for the help, I'll talk to you later!” She hung up the phone. Her palms were sweating. Almost immediately, the phone began to ring, and when she glanced down at the caller id, it read “Kyouya.” She'd obviously worried Kaoru, but she wasn't sure exactly how to explain to him that she'd lost Tamaki. That she didn't know where he was. That for as much information as she knew, he could have been kidnapped.
“I'm getting ahead of myself,” The brunette murmured; a failed attempt to calm herself. It had quite the opposite effect when she realized she was speaking out loud to herself in an empty house. She wrung out her hands and headed towards her bedroom. Perhaps a bit of relaxing was in order.
When her head hit the pillow, Haruhi thought maybe she really did need a break. Between attending school and working part-time, she really had been over-exerting herself lately. A self-instilled sense of perfectionism never seemed to help matters. Her mind drifted easily, consciousness fading, but it seemed like only a few moments later that she was wide awake, hazel eyes trained on the ceiling, ears active.
The sound of the toilet flushing was what woke her up. She nearly had a heart attack. In her sleep-hazy mind, her first thought was that someone had broken in. They were being robbed. She had to get out. Of course, after only a few seconds of hysteria she realized-with some embarrassment-that the noise was probably just Tamaki. Tamaki was home.
With more excitement than she'd liked to admit, Haruhi was running down the hallway, white socks padding across the apartment floor.
Strange.
It was empty. The bathroom was completely, utterly, empty. The water from the toilet was still running, and the sink was still wet, but other than that there wasn't a single sign that anyone had entered the bathroom at all. The shower curtain was blue with yellow ducks, and it hung listlessly; the entire room strangely silent. The white tiling and stack of towels remained untouched. And yet, someone had obviously been in there. She was sure of it.
Haruhi decided to give the rest of the house a once-over, just in case.
The journey to Tamaki's bedroom was a short one, and as she glanced around at the poster-lined walls and cluttered dresser, she realized suddenly how very different she and Tamaki were from one another. Haruhi liked to keep her own room neat and organized-knowing where everything was and having a proper place for them was essential.
Tamaki's room was cluttered with personal items and hair products; silly, sentimental things too, things like movie stubs and old holiday cards that people had sent him. His walls were lined with posters of idols-male and female-tacked up with colorful little thumbtacks or stickers. She kind of liked it-all of it-the clutter, the mess, the lack of organization. It was kind of a relief.
As the glanced around the room, she almost felt like an intruder-although she was sure Tamaki wouldn't have minded her presence. Despite her best intentions, she still felt the urge to snoop, to rifle through drawers and papers in hopes of finding a clue to where had Tamaki had taken off too so near Christmas Eve.
If he wasn't back in time, her holiday plans would be shot to hell.
Her eyes flickered to the right suddenly; a soft rustling noise was coming from somewhere.
Feeling more a little apprehensive, she began to check through the rest of the apartment-which really wasn't much-until she was once again standing in the bathroom doorway. She'd come full circle. The sink was dry and the toilet was silent. Had there ever been any water in the sink at all?
Haruhi felt like she was going crazy. She decided to calm herself with some tea and an attempt to go back to the paper she'd been reading this morning-when, with a surge-she realized it was already mid-evening. It was the windows and not the kitchen clock that had alerted her of the fact. The sky was already dark and bottomless, thin wisps of grey clouds slowly drifting through the star-struck sky. It was already seven. How could it already be seven? Just how long had she slept, exactly?
Dark hair hung in her eyes as she took a seat at the table, hunched her shoulders, and quietly began to cry. It was sudden and strange and frustrating-and foreign too-Haruhi wasn't used to crying.
Here it was, Christmas Eve, and not only had Haruhi not even managed to ask Tamaki out, but now Tamaki wasn't even around to ask out in the first place. So much for a confession.
Her eyes clenched shut and her shoulders shook. She sat with tears in her eyes, feeling ridiculously stupid. Tamaki saw her as a daughter, and that was that. She could get used to it. She definitely couldn't get used to no Tamaki at all. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt lost without him. Without his endless enthusiasm and scatter-brained attitude to curve her cynicism and logic, things just didn't feel right. It felt like a precarious balance on a scale had just slipped, sending her heavy heart plummeting.
All of a sudden, Haruhi hated Christmas. She hated everything about it: it's promise for miracles, it's promise for love, and most definitely, she hated it for the day that came before it, and the fact that she was sitting at the kitchen table alone. Feeling stupid, she stood up, dried her eyes, and headed back towards Tamaki's room.
Once inside, she threw herself onto green sheets and stifled a sob. She wasn't going to cry again. It was unnecessary and useless, and it wasn't going to solve anything. The bed smelled like Tamaki, like lavender and cologne. Lavender had been her favorite scent as a child, and her mother had often been prone to scattering it in her pillow-case. It was a relaxing scent; it was supposed to help you fall asleep.
It just made Haruhi want to cry. Breathing in deeply, she attempted to calm herself. Crying really wouldn't solve anything, and even if there wasn't anyone around to hear it, that didn't mean-
There was a noise. A faint, yet nearby noise. Haruhi quieted her breathing, and listened. There most definitely was a noise. Slowly, she removed herself from the bed; eyes alert.
There was somebody in the house.
She tried not to choke on her own fear. It couldn't be Tamaki. Tamaki wasn't the type of person to go sneaking around the house, suspicious and quiet and calculating. Whoever was in the house did not want to be heard. What should she do? Call the police was the most obvious choice, but not a particularly quiet one.
Hide. That was what she ought to do, hide. He instincts screamed at her to run. She couldn't just stand there. Flight overcoming fight, she dropped slowly to the floor-the rustling noise becoming louder- and began to move her body beneath the bed.
She screamed.
:::
chapter three
:::
Fandom: Host Club
Pairings/Characters: Haruhi/Tamaki (minor Kyouya/Kaoru, Mori/Hunny, Hikaru)
Rating: PG
Summary: Christmas Cake - Slang for an unmarried girl over 25. "Nobody wants Christmas cake after the 25th." Haruhi won't become one with Tamaki so obviously entranced with her, right? A humorous holiday story about love and Christmas-eve epiphanies.
chapter one
chapter one-point-five (extra)
::::
Christmas Eve Cakes and Miracles
::::
Tamaki slammed the phone down with a little more force than necessary. While at first he had been absolutely delighted with his new revelation-that he really did like Haruhi, and that he really wasn't her father, so it was okay-he was now in a state of immense depression and anxiety. At first he hadn't given it much thought: the fact that maybe Haruhi wouldn't return his feelings, that is. Sure, it'd crossed his mind, but he'd still hoped for the best and planned on baring his soul.
That's when he remembered the tiny print he'd read on the calendar just earlier that very day: confession.
Haruhi would definitely reject him-because she obviously already had someone else in mind. The man she was going to confess to was probably much better than him anyhow. He was probably a commoner, like Haruhi, and therefor he would already understand all of her customs and strange ways of life. He'd probably never asked questions like how do you open the dishwasher, or how do you change a light bulb. He probably knew how to vacuum and he'd probably been making instant coffee since before Tamaki was born.
The two of them probably discussed how fancy tuna was the best thing in the whole world, and how much they hated selfish, rich bastards. He probably had muscles too-Haruhi probably liked that-not like Tamaki at all, all lean and thin and impractically scrawny.
What did Haruhi like in boys, anyway?
Violet eyes shifted, studying the picture frame on his bedside table. It was a picture that had been taken on the last day of school, one of the entire Host Club. Even Renge was there. Everyone was smiling and looking happy, and surprisingly, Haruhi was dressed in Ouran's female uniform.
She'd decided to wear it on the on the last day of school, to finally reveal the truth-the shock and surprise had been monumental-with Renge's reaction being particularly extreme. Some of the girls had seemed rather embarrassed at having ever thought that Haruhi was handsome, but otherwise the day had gone surprisingly smoothly. While at first Renge seemed angry about the whole ordeal, it didn't take more than a few hours for her to quickly confess that she still liked Haruhi anyway, boobs and all. No one had really been all that surprised about the revelation, either.
Suddenly an alarm went of in Tamaki's head.
“It is a boy that she's going to confess to...right?” He swallowed. Was his Haruhi also like that? Like Kaoru and Kyouya and Hunny and Mori? How? How could so many of them all lean in that direction? It was beginning to seem more and more like perhaps he and Hikaru were merely the heterosexual side characters, instead of the other way around!
“It-it can't be!” Tamaki shouted, panic overtaking his brain. For how long had Haruhi been this way? Why hadn't she ever told him? Was she afraid, did she think he was too judgmental?
What if it had been something she'd really been struggling with, and this entire time Tamaki hadn't even been given the chance to be there for her! What if she'd never given him the chance because she was creeped out because she could tell that he felt romantically about her! She couldn't tell, could she? Could everyone tell? For how long had everyone known?
Why was he always the last one to know?
Suddenly, he was struck with the very best idea. He would just go ahead and find out, right?
Mind reeling, he jumped up and scrambled for the necessary. A few minutes and a notepad later and Tamaki had mapped out his entire plan. It consisted of a series of questions, goals, and demonstrations, all of which, in the end, would tell him whether or not it was a boy or a girl that Haruhi was going to confess to. He intelligently dubbed it: Operation Find Out Haruhi's Sexuality.
He wasn't sure exactly why it was so important that he find out the gender of the person Haruhi he liked, but for some inexplicable reason, it really was. The idea that Haruhi liked a girl was really gnawing at his insides. If it was a boy Haruhi he liked-if Haruhi at least like boys-then he had somewhat of a chance, as small as it may be. With a girl, well-Tamaki couldn't turn himself into a girl!
Well, technically, he could, but that was something he really didn't want to spend too much time thinking about. At all.
With a deep breath Tamaki instantly had changed the subject. He tried instead to focus on the problem at hand. He liked to think of it as an investigation of sorts, with himself as the lead star; the very handsome and charismatic detective. As a detective, he knew that the best way to find information about a crime scene was to get in touch with the witnesses.
So, first things first.
The very first person he decided to call was Hikaru, for several reasons, however the most important reason simply being that Hikaru and Haruhi seemed to have formed a strange, rather close quasi-friendship over the years. Not to mention Hikaru didn't have any classes at the moment. He phoned him with excited fingers.
He began talking before Hikaru could even manage a mellow “Moshi, moshi.”
“Hikaru, do you know anything about Haruhi involving a...” his thumbs twitched. How could he word this without giving everything about the situation away? “Confession?” he finally managed. There was a cough on the other line. A very suspicious cough. Hikaru definitely knew something.
“Uh, no-not particularly...” More coughing. Even more suspicious. “Why do you ask? Maybe you'd be better off asking Kaoru anyway, he's much better at-”
Tamaki knew exactly what Hikaru was trying to do. He was attempting to defend Haruhi's honor, and keep his loyalty to her as a friend! While they were both very respectable traits-especially for someone like Hikaru-they really weren't going to help Tamaki at all. For the first time ever, he wished that Hikaru wasn't such a good guy. Why couldn't Haruhi have normal, secret-spilling, backstabbing friends? Weren't those the sort of friends girls were supposed to have anyway?
Unless it was different with Haruhi since Haruhi didn't want girls as just friends, she wanted to date girls-confess to girls! He began to tap his foot anxiously. Haruhi did have a lot of male friends, didn't she? And all those years at Ouran, coming to school everyday dressed as a boy; it had obviously done something to her fragile psyche. Or perhaps she'd always identified as a boy, right from the very beginning! Maybe that was why she'd gotten a haircut in the first place, and the whole bubblegum-in-hair story was merely a cover up!
Tamaki chewed on his lip.
The only female friend Haruhi really had ever had was Renge, and everyone knew how Renge was with Haruhi! All those years of Haruhi pretending to be a boy, flirting and chatting with girls all the while she was a girl! Why had he let such a thing go on?
Now he was paying for it. Now Haruhi didn't like boys at all! What if it was his fault? Could something like that even be someone else's fault? Tamaki wasn't exactly sure quite how things liked that worked. He didn't know what made a person lean in one direction or the other. Maybe it was pre-determined. Maybe it wasn't.
But with Haruhi he didn't know one way or the other! He just didn't know!
“Please, Hikaru! It'll just be between you and me, I promise! I really have to know! I can't have my daughter running of with any old crime-filled loser!” His cool detective demeanor was quickly crumpling, revealing the same old Tamaki, hysterical and afraid.
“It isn't a girl is it? Is Haruhi like Kyouya and Hunny? Is she?!” The blond sobbed openly into the phone, and Hikaru resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Surely Hikaru would understand, right? He was like Tamaki was, not like Kyouya and those guys. He had to understand how it was.
“Look Hikaru, me and you, we're the same! We can see eye-to-eye! I just need to know-” click. Hikaru had hung up. Just like that.
Most of the conversations with the other former-host club members fared about just the same, ending with silence on the other line and Tamaki in tears. No one, not even Kyouya, seemed to have a scrap of useful information regarding Haruhi and whether or not she liked girls or boys. If anything, they seemed to be hiding something. Perhaps something far worse and even more sinister than he'd originally imagined. Haruhi wasn't really involved with the Yakuza, was she? She wasn't that tight on cash, right?
Right?
If things continued at this rate, Christmas Eve was going to arrive before Tamaki found out anything-and then it would be too late. Haruhi would confess and the person-boy, girl, whatever-would obviously return her feelings. They had too. How could anyone not like Haruhi?
Resisting the urge to bawl and lapse into hysterics yet again, Tamaki forced himself to think clearly. Or at least attempt to. He tried mentally listing all the possible ways to gather information about someone, and then, out of nowhere, he found it-the perfect idea.
The Frenchman admonished that perhaps he'd been wrong, and that the real best way to gather factual information had been apparent all along: gossip. With a renewed burst of energy, he scrambled into the bathroom to shower and then change. Immediacy aside, one should always look their best. Nearly tripping over his fit on his way out the door, he grabbed his bag and bolted down the street.
The parking lot was bigger than he'd expected. Tamaki had been to Haruhi's University once before, but he'd never really looked at the finer details: the architecture or the colors, and hardly the size of the parking lot. The building structure itself was impressive. High cement walls and rows and rows of tiny rectangular windows; little decorative carvings ingrained around the perimeter of the doorways. It was rather, beautiful, Tamaki thought.
Despite the school's beauty, things weren't going so well. He'd been standing outside of the main entry way for six and a half hours, and still, not a soul seemed to have any useful information about a Haruhi Fujioka. No one.
“Excuse me, fair lady, but I was wondering-” The fair lady in question was an average looking college student with long, black hair tied into a high pony tail. She gave him a hardly-concealed suspicious look.
“Shove off, creep, or I'm going to report you to the school security,” She said, the disdain in her voice apparent. She turned heel, her scarf fluttering in the heavy, chill air as she walked away.
That was another problem. Even worse than the lack of information was the fact that most of students wouldn't even speak to him kindly. After just a few words they always looked at him as though he had buttoned up his shirt incorrectly. Perhaps commoners were merely suspicious of everyone?
“Excuse me, sir, but I wanted to know if-” The words had barely fallen from his lips when his eyes widened.
“Tamaki, why are you outside of my school?” a low voice asked flatly.
“H-Haruhi! You, ah, you're not wearing-I mean, you're, uh-you're dressed unusually today!” Tamaki had been pleased with Haruhi's recent interest in barrettes and cute clothing, but this, this was like Ouran all over again! She was wearing a vest over a long-sleeved shirt, and plain, black pants. He'd thought she was a boy! Again.
Haruhi refused to comment. “Why are you outside of my school? I told you I wouldn't be home until five today. I had English.” English? Haruhi really did like foreigners, didn't she?
“I was merely checking up on my daughter! Can't a father worry about her daughter? Is that such a crime?” The violet-eyed man swallowed.
“Well it very well may be. It looks like you're trespassing, you're going to get yourself into trouble, you know.”
Blond hair fell toward the pavement as Tamaki's head drooped. The whole investigation was going terribly. He'd wasted hours of life trying to find even the smallest scrap, the tiniest detail, and instead he'd found out nothing at all. Nothing. Even worse, time was not waiting for him. Christmas Eve was quickly approaching, and if he didn't find what was going on by tomorrow, all hope would be lost.
He glanced at the sky, briefly captured into how white it was today, in how wispy and broken apart the clouds looked. It was chill outside, and it had Tamaki shivering a bit, even through his heavy blue overcoat and long-sleeved white turtleneck. Most of the leaves had fallen from the trees, and he was beginning to feel like Mother Nature was mocking him, reminding him in every way possible that it was mid-December, and that soon, very soon, Christmas Eve would be here.
The thought crossed his mind that he ought to wear thicker pants, as well as the fact that he'd yet to buy anyone anything. Theoretically, Haruhi should have been the easiest Host Club member to buy for-she had so little-but in fact, she was the most difficult. While it was true that the the other host club members had nearly everything they wanted, it was much more difficult to buy for a person who wanted nothing at all, than a person who already had everything. With a person who has everything, you can always count on them to want to more.
Becoming increasingly sullen and feeling increasingly stupid with Haruhi standing in front of him and staring at him like that, he decided to go back home. Without another word, he began the long, treacherous three-block walk back toward the house, leaving Haruhi confused and frozen far behind him. For once, he managed to unlock the door without much trouble, and he let himself in to the empty house, feeling worse than he'd felt in ages.
Even if he didn't know how Haruhi he felt about girls or boys, it was precisely clear how she felt about him: she wanted nothing to do with him. He hadn't even received a warm greeting or a smile. Instead he'd gotten bored brown eyes and an annoyed voice asking him why he was there.
The blond could feel the tears well up in his eyes. There was no hope. It didn't even really matter if was a girl or a guy. What was the difference to Haruhi anyway? Either way, she was going to confess to someone tomorrow. The calendar said so. Haruhi had always been a very organized person, and if there was one thing she was good at, it was following through with plans.
Maybe if he'd of realized it sooner, asked her out way back in high school-god, he was such an idiot-there would have been time. Why hadn't anyone told him? No one eve told him anything! Why did everyone force him to waste so much time trying to figure things out on his own?
He sighed in defeat, and began crawling under the bed in hopes that no one would ever find him-that he could be left alone by himself to die and rot away until his body had completely decomposed. It did not cross his mind that he was being melodramatic. Really, it didn't.
Besides, if died under the bed next to the dust-bunnies and dirt, at least then he'd never have to know who Haruhi was going to confess to-who could possibly be so precious to her.
::::
The next morning was a Saturday, and Haruhi went about her daily routine the same way she always had: methodically. It didn't matter that it was Christmas Eve-she still needed a shower, her teeth still needed to be brushed, and someone still had to put the tea kettle on-certain things just couldn't be avoided.
Two and a half hours later, however, and thirty minutes into reading the newspaper, she realized, quite clearly, that something was being avoided: herself. Tamaki was very obviously avoiding her. After she'd returned home after the strange incident that had happened outside of her school, Tamaki had been nowhere to be found. She'd checked all the rooms, and called out his name several times, but the only answers she;d received had been that of her wet shoes squeaking against the linoleum tiles in the kitchen.
At first, it hadn't been anything to worry over. Tamaki needn't always be home, and he need not always cook dinner (or attempt to), and just because he wasn't in the house certainly did not mean that Haruhi felt lonely. Haruhi could be alone. She'd been alone for a long time before Tamaki had come along. Certainly she could do it for one night while Tamaki was over a friend's house or out doing whatever it was he was doing.
Honestly, that was the part that left her feeling like she was missing something.
Where could Tamaki have gone-and on the day before Christmas Eve no less? Last night she'd been tired, but now, eight hours of sleep later with tono still missing, worry was beginning to seep into her skin. Tamaki couldn't possibly be spending the holidays with someone else, could he? Not one to jump to conclusions, she resigned to calling Kyouya when she was finished with the newspaper.
She couldn't wait that long.
Thirteen seconds later she was dialing the Ootori residence with shaking fingers. After two rings, someone picked up.
“Kyouya, I'm sorry to bother you, but-”
“It's fine, it's fine,” laughter. Haruhi was relieved to realize that no, Kyouya wasn't laughing, but that it was merely Hikaru who had answered the phone. She let out a little laugh of relief herself.
“Oh, hi Hikaru, I was calling for Kyouya, is he around?”
“Um, he's, uh-actually out at the moment. I could tell him you called if you'd like?” Kyouya wasn't home? He was probably out with Tamaki-obviously-who else would Tamaki have gone out with?
“You haven't-Tamaki's not with him, is he?”
The was brief pause. “Not that I know of, why?” How could Tamaki not be with Kyouya? Rather steadily, her heart-rate was accelerating.
“It's just-it's nothing. Thanks for the help, I'll talk to you later!” She hung up the phone. Her palms were sweating. Almost immediately, the phone began to ring, and when she glanced down at the caller id, it read “Kyouya.” She'd obviously worried Kaoru, but she wasn't sure exactly how to explain to him that she'd lost Tamaki. That she didn't know where he was. That for as much information as she knew, he could have been kidnapped.
“I'm getting ahead of myself,” The brunette murmured; a failed attempt to calm herself. It had quite the opposite effect when she realized she was speaking out loud to herself in an empty house. She wrung out her hands and headed towards her bedroom. Perhaps a bit of relaxing was in order.
When her head hit the pillow, Haruhi thought maybe she really did need a break. Between attending school and working part-time, she really had been over-exerting herself lately. A self-instilled sense of perfectionism never seemed to help matters. Her mind drifted easily, consciousness fading, but it seemed like only a few moments later that she was wide awake, hazel eyes trained on the ceiling, ears active.
The sound of the toilet flushing was what woke her up. She nearly had a heart attack. In her sleep-hazy mind, her first thought was that someone had broken in. They were being robbed. She had to get out. Of course, after only a few seconds of hysteria she realized-with some embarrassment-that the noise was probably just Tamaki. Tamaki was home.
With more excitement than she'd liked to admit, Haruhi was running down the hallway, white socks padding across the apartment floor.
Strange.
It was empty. The bathroom was completely, utterly, empty. The water from the toilet was still running, and the sink was still wet, but other than that there wasn't a single sign that anyone had entered the bathroom at all. The shower curtain was blue with yellow ducks, and it hung listlessly; the entire room strangely silent. The white tiling and stack of towels remained untouched. And yet, someone had obviously been in there. She was sure of it.
Haruhi decided to give the rest of the house a once-over, just in case.
The journey to Tamaki's bedroom was a short one, and as she glanced around at the poster-lined walls and cluttered dresser, she realized suddenly how very different she and Tamaki were from one another. Haruhi liked to keep her own room neat and organized-knowing where everything was and having a proper place for them was essential.
Tamaki's room was cluttered with personal items and hair products; silly, sentimental things too, things like movie stubs and old holiday cards that people had sent him. His walls were lined with posters of idols-male and female-tacked up with colorful little thumbtacks or stickers. She kind of liked it-all of it-the clutter, the mess, the lack of organization. It was kind of a relief.
As the glanced around the room, she almost felt like an intruder-although she was sure Tamaki wouldn't have minded her presence. Despite her best intentions, she still felt the urge to snoop, to rifle through drawers and papers in hopes of finding a clue to where had Tamaki had taken off too so near Christmas Eve.
If he wasn't back in time, her holiday plans would be shot to hell.
Her eyes flickered to the right suddenly; a soft rustling noise was coming from somewhere.
Feeling more a little apprehensive, she began to check through the rest of the apartment-which really wasn't much-until she was once again standing in the bathroom doorway. She'd come full circle. The sink was dry and the toilet was silent. Had there ever been any water in the sink at all?
Haruhi felt like she was going crazy. She decided to calm herself with some tea and an attempt to go back to the paper she'd been reading this morning-when, with a surge-she realized it was already mid-evening. It was the windows and not the kitchen clock that had alerted her of the fact. The sky was already dark and bottomless, thin wisps of grey clouds slowly drifting through the star-struck sky. It was already seven. How could it already be seven? Just how long had she slept, exactly?
Dark hair hung in her eyes as she took a seat at the table, hunched her shoulders, and quietly began to cry. It was sudden and strange and frustrating-and foreign too-Haruhi wasn't used to crying.
Here it was, Christmas Eve, and not only had Haruhi not even managed to ask Tamaki out, but now Tamaki wasn't even around to ask out in the first place. So much for a confession.
Her eyes clenched shut and her shoulders shook. She sat with tears in her eyes, feeling ridiculously stupid. Tamaki saw her as a daughter, and that was that. She could get used to it. She definitely couldn't get used to no Tamaki at all. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt lost without him. Without his endless enthusiasm and scatter-brained attitude to curve her cynicism and logic, things just didn't feel right. It felt like a precarious balance on a scale had just slipped, sending her heavy heart plummeting.
All of a sudden, Haruhi hated Christmas. She hated everything about it: it's promise for miracles, it's promise for love, and most definitely, she hated it for the day that came before it, and the fact that she was sitting at the kitchen table alone. Feeling stupid, she stood up, dried her eyes, and headed back towards Tamaki's room.
Once inside, she threw herself onto green sheets and stifled a sob. She wasn't going to cry again. It was unnecessary and useless, and it wasn't going to solve anything. The bed smelled like Tamaki, like lavender and cologne. Lavender had been her favorite scent as a child, and her mother had often been prone to scattering it in her pillow-case. It was a relaxing scent; it was supposed to help you fall asleep.
It just made Haruhi want to cry. Breathing in deeply, she attempted to calm herself. Crying really wouldn't solve anything, and even if there wasn't anyone around to hear it, that didn't mean-
There was a noise. A faint, yet nearby noise. Haruhi quieted her breathing, and listened. There most definitely was a noise. Slowly, she removed herself from the bed; eyes alert.
There was somebody in the house.
She tried not to choke on her own fear. It couldn't be Tamaki. Tamaki wasn't the type of person to go sneaking around the house, suspicious and quiet and calculating. Whoever was in the house did not want to be heard. What should she do? Call the police was the most obvious choice, but not a particularly quiet one.
Hide. That was what she ought to do, hide. He instincts screamed at her to run. She couldn't just stand there. Flight overcoming fight, she dropped slowly to the floor-the rustling noise becoming louder- and began to move her body beneath the bed.
She screamed.
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chapter three
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