[fic post] Blame
Title: Blame
Rating: G
Genre: Angst/Downer
Pairings or Characters: Tamaki/Haruhi, Host Club
Warnings: not a happy fic.
Word Count: 933
Summary: The funny thing is, she doesn't so much mind the dreams, because at least she gets a chance to say it to him instead of just an empty room.
Author Notes: Wrote this up in the last half hour. I'm not having a good day, and I took it out on the poor Host Club as per peekaydee's suggestion. Now excuse me while I snuggle with my Totoro doll and watch Disney movies to try and cheer up.
Blame
Haruhi drags her feet down the hallway of her small apartment, kicking off her shoes and dropping her jacket as she goes. She reaches her bedroom and collapses on her bed, still wearing her work clothes. Sighing into her pillow, she closes her eyes and tries to forget all the stress.
Within minutes, she's asleep, and just like every time she closes her eyes, she's back at Ouran.
Her movements are slow in that dream-like way, and she reaches out a hand to offer the girl across from her tea. The girl, whose name easily escapes her memory, has a worried expression on her face as she turns down Haruhi's offer.
Why didn't you realize?
“Um... Haruhi-kun?” she asks slowly, her voice faint and distant.
“What is it?” Haruhi asks in return.
“Why is your smile so fake?”
Haruhi blinks in surprise, caught completely off-guard. Of course, she's played through this dream so many times before, but her dream-self is always, always startled by this nameless girl's question.
But before she can answer, the girl disappears and she's suddenly with Kyouya. He's typing away, and she's acutely aware of how hard he's trying to ignore her. Unlike with the girl, every sound is suddenly crisp and clear, but the movement is still slightly blurry.
It's your fault.
“Kyouya-sempai?”
“Yes, Haruhi?” he asks, his tone not at all friendly.
“Where's Tamaki-sempai?”
His fingers freeze and he looks up at her, his glasses flashing.
“You should know better than I where that idiot is,” he says slowly. There is no longer the teasing affection in his tone when he refers to their blond king, and she feels a chill run up and down her spine.
Kyouya stands, closing his laptop, and starts to walk away.
“Wait, sempai--” she tries to say, but her voice disappears and she falls backwards into black. She sees a hand outstretched, offering to help her, but she hesitates too long and it, too, fades into darkness.
Haruhi doesn't know how long she falls, but suddenly she feels herself colliding with something soft and springy. She bounces in the air a few more times before coming to rest on a large pink bunny. Looking around, she sees Mori feeding Hani strawberry ice cream.
You are the one who broke everything.
“Haru-chan, why did you lie?” Hani asks through a spoonful of ice cream, eyes hidden beneath his bangs.
“What do you mean? I never lied to you--”
“Not to us,” Mori interrupts. The spoon in his hand pauses back in the tub as he looks up at her. 'You lied to yourself,' his eyes tell her.
“And now everything's ruined,” Hani finishes, a steady stream of tears falling down his cheek as he refuses the spoon Mori holds out for him.
Again, before she can reply, she is taken from this scene and planted on a couch with a Hitachiin on either side of her. Though they each have an arm draped over her shoulders, they have never felt so distant.
He's left because of you.
“Haruhi, you know we'd never--” Hikaru begins.
“-- blame you for anything,” Kaoru continues.
“But this time, it's too much.”
“You've taken him away from us-”
“-- and we can't forgive that,” they chorus. Simultaneously, they remove their arms from her shoulder, stand and walk into each other before slowly disappearing. She reaches forward, hoping to grasp them, pull them apart again, but they're gone and suddenly there's a set of reins in her hand.
Haruhi's on the carriage, chasing after the red convertible, back in that white dress. Everything is painfully slow, and the only thing she hears is Eclaire's smooth voice, mocking and hurtful in her ears, as she promises a life back in France.
All because you never told him.
She sees him stand, staring back at her with wide eyes.
She can't catch up, and she's losing her hold on the horses as they drive forward.
His hand reaches out towards her, and this time she doesn't hesitate, but he's too far away and suddenly another hand is on his arm, pulling it down and reassuring him that he's made the right decision. He looks at her once more, a mix of sadness and resolution, before he sits back down and the car speeds off faster.
She feels herself lifting up into the air and she's falling again, and this time there is no hand outstretched to try and save her.
“Tamaki-sempai! Please don't go! We need you! I--” she tries to cry, but her voice has left her again and the feeling of the water as she lands in it alone is piercing and cold.
She is drowning, and she doesn't feel like fighting.
All because you couldn't admit that you love him.
Haruhi's eyes shoot open and she realizes she's been crying when she feels her pillow is damp. She sits up, rubbing absently at her eyes, and turns to stare at the lone picture she has resting on top of her drawers. The Host Club stares back at her, and she sits quietly like this for several minutes before pushing herself off of her bed and walking towards it.
She raises a hand to it, and she delicately strokes a thumb over the frame, before she turns it down so she no longer sees those familiar, smiling faces.
"I love you, Tamaki," she says in a quiet voice before fresh tears stream down her face.
Rating: G
Genre: Angst/Downer
Pairings or Characters: Tamaki/Haruhi, Host Club
Warnings: not a happy fic.
Word Count: 933
Summary: The funny thing is, she doesn't so much mind the dreams, because at least she gets a chance to say it to him instead of just an empty room.
Author Notes: Wrote this up in the last half hour. I'm not having a good day, and I took it out on the poor Host Club as per peekaydee's suggestion. Now excuse me while I snuggle with my Totoro doll and watch Disney movies to try and cheer up.
Blame
Haruhi drags her feet down the hallway of her small apartment, kicking off her shoes and dropping her jacket as she goes. She reaches her bedroom and collapses on her bed, still wearing her work clothes. Sighing into her pillow, she closes her eyes and tries to forget all the stress.
Within minutes, she's asleep, and just like every time she closes her eyes, she's back at Ouran.
Her movements are slow in that dream-like way, and she reaches out a hand to offer the girl across from her tea. The girl, whose name easily escapes her memory, has a worried expression on her face as she turns down Haruhi's offer.
Why didn't you realize?
“Um... Haruhi-kun?” she asks slowly, her voice faint and distant.
“What is it?” Haruhi asks in return.
“Why is your smile so fake?”
Haruhi blinks in surprise, caught completely off-guard. Of course, she's played through this dream so many times before, but her dream-self is always, always startled by this nameless girl's question.
But before she can answer, the girl disappears and she's suddenly with Kyouya. He's typing away, and she's acutely aware of how hard he's trying to ignore her. Unlike with the girl, every sound is suddenly crisp and clear, but the movement is still slightly blurry.
It's your fault.
“Kyouya-sempai?”
“Yes, Haruhi?” he asks, his tone not at all friendly.
“Where's Tamaki-sempai?”
His fingers freeze and he looks up at her, his glasses flashing.
“You should know better than I where that idiot is,” he says slowly. There is no longer the teasing affection in his tone when he refers to their blond king, and she feels a chill run up and down her spine.
Kyouya stands, closing his laptop, and starts to walk away.
“Wait, sempai--” she tries to say, but her voice disappears and she falls backwards into black. She sees a hand outstretched, offering to help her, but she hesitates too long and it, too, fades into darkness.
Haruhi doesn't know how long she falls, but suddenly she feels herself colliding with something soft and springy. She bounces in the air a few more times before coming to rest on a large pink bunny. Looking around, she sees Mori feeding Hani strawberry ice cream.
You are the one who broke everything.
“Haru-chan, why did you lie?” Hani asks through a spoonful of ice cream, eyes hidden beneath his bangs.
“What do you mean? I never lied to you--”
“Not to us,” Mori interrupts. The spoon in his hand pauses back in the tub as he looks up at her. 'You lied to yourself,' his eyes tell her.
“And now everything's ruined,” Hani finishes, a steady stream of tears falling down his cheek as he refuses the spoon Mori holds out for him.
Again, before she can reply, she is taken from this scene and planted on a couch with a Hitachiin on either side of her. Though they each have an arm draped over her shoulders, they have never felt so distant.
He's left because of you.
“Haruhi, you know we'd never--” Hikaru begins.
“-- blame you for anything,” Kaoru continues.
“But this time, it's too much.”
“You've taken him away from us-”
“-- and we can't forgive that,” they chorus. Simultaneously, they remove their arms from her shoulder, stand and walk into each other before slowly disappearing. She reaches forward, hoping to grasp them, pull them apart again, but they're gone and suddenly there's a set of reins in her hand.
Haruhi's on the carriage, chasing after the red convertible, back in that white dress. Everything is painfully slow, and the only thing she hears is Eclaire's smooth voice, mocking and hurtful in her ears, as she promises a life back in France.
All because you never told him.
She sees him stand, staring back at her with wide eyes.
She can't catch up, and she's losing her hold on the horses as they drive forward.
His hand reaches out towards her, and this time she doesn't hesitate, but he's too far away and suddenly another hand is on his arm, pulling it down and reassuring him that he's made the right decision. He looks at her once more, a mix of sadness and resolution, before he sits back down and the car speeds off faster.
She feels herself lifting up into the air and she's falling again, and this time there is no hand outstretched to try and save her.
“Tamaki-sempai! Please don't go! We need you! I--” she tries to cry, but her voice has left her again and the feeling of the water as she lands in it alone is piercing and cold.
She is drowning, and she doesn't feel like fighting.
All because you couldn't admit that you love him.
Haruhi's eyes shoot open and she realizes she's been crying when she feels her pillow is damp. She sits up, rubbing absently at her eyes, and turns to stare at the lone picture she has resting on top of her drawers. The Host Club stares back at her, and she sits quietly like this for several minutes before pushing herself off of her bed and walking towards it.
She raises a hand to it, and she delicately strokes a thumb over the frame, before she turns it down so she no longer sees those familiar, smiling faces.
"I love you, Tamaki," she says in a quiet voice before fresh tears stream down her face.