A/N: Guess who's back! So, this has been long overdue. Truth be told, I originally intended to just let this die off, but I noticed that even nearly a year since the last update, this is still getting favourites and reviews. So, I decided that I really should finish it.
The only problem is that personally, I hate this story – it's probably some of the worst fiction I've ever written. This is why I decided that instead of just finishing it, the whole thing is going to undergo a re-write. These chapters may be slow in coming, but once all 15 chapters have been redone to my standards, I'll publish the remaining few chapters. Everything is un-Beta'd so please excuse any mistakes in grammar.
Please bear with me, and thank you so much for your support and the encouragement from certain readers that really pushed me back into this.
Much love!
When Haruhi was three years old, her mother told her that fate had a way of handing people bad things in threes.
Fate is a funny thing – a nuisance that has a habit of getting in the way when you least expect it. You could be coasting through life, completely independent from what's going on in the world around you, only to have your simple existence thrown into chaos the minute you let your guard down.
For Haruhi, she was pretty sure that her first encounter with such a fate was her mother's death. At the tender age of five years old, a young Haruhi had very little to worry about other than what to get her friend Nanako-chan for her birthday and which cartoon she wanted to watch when she got home.
That is, until her father – who had a day off, and decided to pick her up from school as he was wont to do – opened the door to their tiny apartment to find the kitchen sink overflowing, her mother unconsciously slumped against the wall with one arm extended towards the phone.
Two months, several trips to the hospital, and one funeral later, after her father had quietly confirmed that no, she wouldn't see her mother again, her friend's birthday party didn't seem to matter so much anymore. What was she going to make for dinner, had she finished her homework, was her dad eating enough?
A little girl's world was flipped upside down, taking her childhood with it.
Her second bad encounter with fate happened during her first visit to a certain music room, involving a vase and some very poor timing, but we all know what happened there.
And ever since that life-altering run in with six young men and a crippling debt, Haruhi had been wondering what fate had in store for its big finale – the hat-trick of mishaps. She had imagined everything, from the morbid to the down-right ridiculous.
But this… This was too much.
From her seat on one of the plush velvet loveseats in the centre of Music Room 3, Haruhi heard the sound of a car's engine roar to life from the window on the opposite wall. It disappeared as soon as it came.
There was a distinct click as Kyoya snapped his phone shut, a growl in his voice as he let out an angered "Tamaki!"
He, along with the other male members of the club rushed to gather at the window. Sure enough, their blond lord was settled in the backseat of a sports car, Éclair taking up the space beside him.
Honey, who had dropped Usa-chan in his haste, pressed his open palms to the glass, as if pushing against it could somehow get him closer to his kouhai. "Tama-chan!" he called out, and Haruhi couldn't remember the last time she'd heard such grief in his voice.
Kaoru, in a rare fit of violence, bashed his fist against the glass in anger. "There's no way… How could he leave now? The Ouran fair isn't even over yet!" he shouted, and Honey visibly flinched beneath him.
Haruhi herself could do little more than sit frozen, hands clasped together in her lap. It's not possible, she thought to herself. This was Tamaki-senpai. He wouldn't leave them behind, the club was his family after all. All the times he'd saved them, done everything to keep them together, what was it all for if he could abandon them so easily?
Ah, this feeling again. The thought came unbidden, along with a clenching in her chest. My family is leaving me again.
Kyoya, who she knew for being cool and calm under pressure, was panicking clearly. Pacing in front of the window with a hand putting pressure on his left temple, he mumbled repeatedly under his breath before looking sharply towards her.
"My family's car should be in the parking lot." He declared, taking confident steps towards her place on the sofa. Resting a firm hand on her shoulder, Kyoya levelled his gaze with her own. "Let's go, Haruhi."
His voice jarred her from her thoughts, and Haruhi's small hand fisted into the ruffles of her dress adorning her chest. Go? Go where exactly? Tamaki was gone. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave them, his friends, his family, for some French bimbo. Did they really mean so little to him?
Haruhi was never one to show much emotion – she had locked away her sadness shortly after her mother's funeral. But something gave way, and every feeling she'd kept in these past few days poured out of her, in a way she would later regret.
"…No." she said quietly, fist unclenching and falling back into her lap.
Kyoya raised his eyebrows, eyes lighting up with confusion, and the look was so foreign and ridiculous on him that Haruhi had to bite back a laugh.
"No?" he repeated as he straightened up, loud and incredulous, gaining the attention of the other hosts. Each wore a different expression that she didn't care to place at the moment.
"What do you mean, no?" asked Hikaru, his voice straining and eyebrows furrowed. "This is Tono, we have to go after him!"
"I'm not going anywhere." Haruhi said, unbidden. It was as if she's swallowed lead, the lump in her throat stopping the right words from escaping.
Kyoya's earlier confusion gave way to a cold glare that sent shivers down her spine. "Haruhi, now's not the time to hesitate. If we don't act now, he'll be gone by the time we do." His voice gradually rose to the point of being terrifying – never had he spoken to her in such a way.
Haruhi frowned. "Be gone?" she bit back. "He already is gone, Kyoya-senpai. There's no point in going after someone who obviously doesn't want to be here." She muttered, the bitterness in her voice surprising even herself.
"How… how can you say that, Haru-chan?" Honey questioned, the tears welling in his doe-brown eyes contradicting the bland tone of his voice. "Don't you care that he's leaving?" His small fists clenched at Mori's costume jacket, and the senior in question merely gave the female host a pleading look.
Haruhi growled and stood abruptly, causing the gathered hosts to disperse away from her. Cursing the tears that pricked at her eyes and her unsteady voice, she clenched her fists at her sides hoping the biting of her nails into her skin would calm her down. "Can't you see it? He got in that car willingly, he'll get on that plane without telling us why willingly, he's stopped caring about us willingly!" she yelled, her voice rising in hysterics. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she screeched, "So why should I care about him?"
"I can't believe you just said that." Hikaru shook his head in disbelief, in disgust, and Haruhi felt very much like a child.
Her tears left hot trails down under her chin, before falling and catching on the wig Hikaru himself had so carefully decorated her with earlier. Reaching up, she shakily tugged off the itchy accessory and gripped it tightly. "You…" she murmured, "You don't understand at all!" she practically shrieked as she threw the hair piece to the floor, before turning on the heel of her velvet slipper and running from the club room.
Slamming the lurid pink doors behind her, Haruhi fled down the corridor, determined to put as much space between her and the hosts as possible.
Tears blurred her vision, and she stumbled over her own feet before hitting the ground. Crying out in frustration, she yanked off the heeled shoes she'd been forced to wear and tore away the heavy pink costume she'd dressed up in.
Running down the corridors, all that she could think was how she wished no one saw her cry, no one saw her in such a vulnerable state.
She ran, ran away from her problems, ran home and into the arms of her father, leaving all her worries behind her.
Looking back one year later, Haruhi could say with fair certainty that she'd had her three run-ins with ill fate that had not only turned her world upside-down, but thoroughly destroyed it.
If she was harsh on herself, she could say it was her fault. Being so open to her emotions had caused everything to fall apart. She'd reverted to five year old Haruhi, clutching on to her father and weeping as her mother's ashes had been scattered.
Not anymore, however. She'd locked away her vulnerable side once, and she had done it again with ease, choosing to sit back and watch as this new world shifted and changed around her. Haruhi went back to coasting along as she used to, after growing long accustomed to the idea that she wouldn't get that old life, her old family, back again.
But it seemed that fate wasn't quite done with her yet.
Walking slowly down the corridors of the north building, which housed the second-year classrooms, Haruhi was hit with an overwhelming sense of deja vu as she searched for somewhere, anywhere to study away from the prying eyes of her peers.
This time around, it wasn't the noise itself that was preventing her from studying, but what the noise was about instead. Namely, Haruhi herself.
Of course, after the Host Club had disbanded and Tamaki's departure, rumours over the club's demise had spread like wildfire. Whenever Haruhi was in the vicinity however, the topic of conversation veered away from the club as a whole and more towards her change in attitude, and appearance.
Case and point, the conversation the two girls she'd just passed were having in what they thought were hushed voices:
"Oh look, it's Haruhi-kun." Girl A pointed out hurriedly.
"Why did he stop dressing so nicely? It's such a shame, he was so cute." Girl B said, shaking her head as if some tragedy had occurred.
Girl A nodded her agreement. " And his hair. It looks like he hasn't even brushed it."
Girl B pouted. "Poor thing, the club breaking up must have really hit him hard."
The conversation ended with two stares full of misplaced pity boring into her back. Readjusting her thickly-framed glasses, Haruhi jostled the advanced algebra textbooks in her arms for a better grip, before picking up her pace.
She had to get away from those looks, that pity, or else she'd feel vulnerable again.
Ever since the incident, when in the aftermath Haruhi had decided to fade into the background as much as possible, she had gone back to wearing her father's worn over-sized jumper, though she kept the school shirt and trousers – it'd be a waste not too.
Much to her father's dismay, she had taken up wearing her grandfather's glasses again despite the prescription being incorrect. Haruhi hadn't had much of a choice however. During her time in the Host Club her contacts had been supplied by one of Kyoya's father's companies, and her prescription had been abruptly cancelled upon the club's abolishment.
It's not like she had to care for her appearance anymore anyway – she wasn't a host, and her true gender was still unknown to the rest of Ouran. Haruhi was just you're average scholarship student once more – all that mattered were her studies and staying ahead of her classmates in the exam tables.
Continuing on down the corridor, Haruhi ignored the whispers of her fellow Ouran students, as she had done for many months now. It was all just white noise, nothing more. Besides, she had more pressing matters, such as finding one quiet place to study. Honestly, was there nowhere on campus that wasn't teeming with slackers?
After checking the fourth library again for the third time, Haruhi huffed, and gave up on looking. Her only choice would be to head back to room 2-A, although her feet were reluctant to do so. She knew what would be waiting for her there after all. Or more specifically, who.
Peeking slowly into the open doorway, Haruhi's quick eyes soon found the pair of redheads currently occupying her thoughts. Hikaru was perched on the window seat in the far back of the room, his attention focussed on the games console in his hands. His brother leaned over the older twin's shoulder and pointed to the screen occasionally. Both had the same bored expression plastered on their faces that they had taken to not long after the incident.
It was sad really. After all the work they had put in to opening themselves up to people - to breaking the lock on the gate that kept their world so separate from others - everything had just gone to waste, as they had shut everyone out in no time at all. It wasn't surprising really – they probably still felt betrayed over the fact that Tamaki, the one who had first opened them up, and Haruhi, who had forced her way in to their world, had let them down. Who would want to let others in after that?
Ironically enough, the twins still chose to pay attention to her – not in a friendly way, just observant, almost cautious in the way they kept their distance. For example, as she walked into the room Kaoru's gaze flickered to her momentarily, their eyes locking, before he turned back to whisper to his brother. Hikaru stiffened at whatever Kaoru said, but his concentration on the game didn't falter.
Haruhi let out an irritated sigh, before collapsing into her chair in the fair right corner of the room, fully aware of two pairs of hazel eyes following her every move. It was as if they were waiting for her to… do something, but what that something was she had no clue.
She flicked open her textbook to her latest assignment, but all of the 'x's and 'y's blurred together in front of her. It was impossible to focus with the twins' intense glares boring into her skull. Giving up on her last hope at studying, Haruhi dropped her head onto the polished wood of her desk.
The door clicked open, and Haruhi frowned in confusion. That's strange, she thought to herself, lunch only started twenty minutes ago. Apart from the twins, no one else is usually here.
Heels clacked against the floor, gradually approaching the back of the room and her own desk, but she paid no mind until she heard the twins mutter "No way…" in unison.
Three taps on her desk, and Haruhi raised her head. She was met with manicured nails on a dainty hand, a thin arm covered in the yellow of the Ouran girl's uniform, and, as her eyes travelled up, the bitter smile of Éclair Tonnerre. Her blue eyes were alight with mirth as Haruhi's jaw dropped.
Éclair laughed breathily, folding her arms over her generous chest, and tilted her head almost condescendingly as she spoke. "My, Fujioka, you sure have changed! Personally, I think this look suits you much better. I hear down-trodden commoner is very in this year." She smirked.
Haruhi's initial shock twisted into confusion, then anger. She gripped at the edge of her desk before shoving it forwards, making the girl in front of her stumble backwards slightly. Haruhi stood abruptly, and she saw the twins move gradually towards the duo from her peripheral vision.
"What are you doing here?" Haruhi asked slowly, venom laced in her voice's undertone.
Haruhi could have sworn Éclair's smile was pitiful as she shook her head, looking down her nose at the smaller girl. "I am here because my Tamaki wanted to come back to this awful country, heaven knows why. I couldn't let him come alone, of course." She said, shrugging her thin shoulders in a dismissive gesture.
She knew she was being provoked, the Éclair wanted some kind of bad reaction, but anger simmered under the surface of Haruhi's carefully constructed walls, and that damned pity was close to making them crumble under pressure. But nothing felt more like a wrecking ball than seeing something glisten on her left ring finger – an ornate gold band, a wedding ring.
Her rage bubbled up and spilt over like lava. Snapping, Haruhi lashed out at the girl before her, her open palm coming into direct contact with the heiress' soft cheek. Éclair gasped, sinking to her knees and cradling her wounded face, but she didn't have time to react.
The twins closed in on Haruhi, linking an arm each through her own, before they dragged their estranged friend away, out of the classroom and off down the corridor.
Haruhi kicked and yelled, demanded that they let her go back and finish what she'd started, but the soon enough she felt hot tears threaten to spill over. She didn't know when they got there, but soon enough the twins opened the doors to Music Room 3 and pulled her inside.
And then she was in Hikaru's arms, with Kaoru gently shushing her mumbling as he stroked her hair. Haruhi's mumbles turned to hiccups, then sobs as her tears spilled over and she latched on to the twin's backs as they rocked her gently back and forth.
Maybe she was crying because someone as contemptible as Éclair had the nerve to pity her, maybe it was because that ring had confirmed that yes, Tamaki had really chosen the French heiress over his friends, or maybe it was because she'd missed the auburn-haired devils she was clinging to with a ferocity that they returned tenfold.
Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. In that moment, crumpled up on the music room floor, an epiphany came to the scholarship student, unexpected and long overdue. She had missed them. She missed everyone, and everything they used to do, and good lord, what made her even consider going on without her idiot family?
Taking deep breaths between gasps, Haruhi forced herself to calm down and meet the gazes of the twins in front of her. She was surprised to see Hikaru and Kaoru blubbering as well. She laughed quietly under her breath, pulling her sleeves up over her wrists and reaching up to wipe away their tears. They looked at her almost expectantly with wide, innocent eyes, and she gave them a watery grin.
"I've missed you."