A/N:This is my second dabble into Ouran, this time for Annie's very late Christmas present, and I tried to stick in a little TamakixHaruhi in there. The lyrics and references are to Jimmy Eat World's "Sweetness," my favorite song from one of my favorite bands. So if you like background music with your fic, I'd recommend that.
So I kinda fell into stereotypes when I talked about everyone, so feel free to correct me as you will. Constructive criticism is lovely! Please enjoy!
Unbalanced
The final bell rings at Ouran Academy and the teenagers are released. Unbound by attempts to learn, they flood the halls in purple blazers and yellow dresses, a thousand conversations divided into five topics: how hard the previous class was; plans for the upcoming spring vacation; plans for the weekend; whether the Host Club is open today; and which host people would choose.
In a flood of rose petals, the Host Club waits with the teatime tables behind closed doors. It's a busy afternoon, busier than even Kyouya's optimistic projections, and when the girls are all gone Kyouya calls for a meeting. None of the boys protest since what awaits is homework, and nobody listens to Haruhi's plea for time to finish her honors chemistry homework.
She does it anyway. She knows what her priorities are, and she won't become a lawyer someday if she spent her time discussing projection in a club she's pretending to be a boy in. It wouldn't be the best thing to put on an application to Harvard. She thinks she has the answer to the unbalanced equation in front of her, and eagerly gets to work.
"Are you listening, Haruhi?" Kyouya inquires suddenly, all shining glass and sharpened smiles. He's sitting in the light, flooded by the springtime midday, but she still can't trust him. She hides the chemistry book behind her back, smiling brightly at him.
"I'm listening," she says, a little offended.
"Then sing it back!" Tamaki proclaims, a finger pointed in the air, ill-used confidence radiating off him. She's beginning to see the way he sparkles, and this concerns her a little. She writes it off as chemistry-induced sleepiness.
"Sing what back?" she demands, irritable, wanting to return to her homework.
"Sing it back, Haru-chan!" Honey says sweetly, his mouth lined with cake frosting and strawberry juice.
"Go on," says Kaoru, raising his left eyebrow, perching his chin on his twin's shoulder.
"Sing it back," says Hikaru, raising his right eyebrow, curling his fingers around his twin's.
"Please, Haruhi," says Mori, looking up.
She's doomed. She's going to be in trouble for it, and she'll have to pay the money instead of working it off like she needs to. If that debt is sent home, she'll never hear the end of it, and it will drive her father and her deep underground.
Then she remembers a song, an American one, that has lyrics that sound like the words they're saying. She's not sure if that's what they're calling for, and her shoulders feel very heavy all of a sudden. But around the sempais of the Host Club, you are always full of manufactured happiness. You never show that you're nervous or sad. (Unless you're Tamaki, in which case nobody takes you seriously and you're over it in about five minutes.)
She breathes in, out. She smiles triumphantly, sings out: "The sweetness will not be concerned with me!"
They blink once, twice at her. She doesn't know what to think.
"Haru-chan, that was cute!" Honey says, full of approval.
"That's your reason to have a karaoke party, Kyouya-sempai!" Tamaki says brightly, and the sparkles shimmer in his hair again. "Oh, she has the voice of an angel!"
"I really don't," Haruhi says, and nobody pays attention to her. The song's right. The sweetness will not be concerned with me, Haruhi thinks, and she returns to balancing her equations.
She only vaguely wonders how she can balance out her life again—or, for that matter, if she even wants to.
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