Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club. But if anyone wants to give it to me for Christmas – I'd be seriously grateful. Just kidding. However, I do own the quote at the beginning.
A/N: Okay, so this is my first ever Ouran High School Host Club story. I've been obsessed with this Manga for the past two years and I love the Anime too (I got it on DVD for my birthday last year) so yeah, please be nice and I hope you like it. Everything not in speech marks is probably Tamaki's thoughts (though there are the occasional few stage directions) please review because I'm a HUGE TamaxHaru fan! (Shows TShirt) Seriously, screw KyoyaxHaru – TamaxHaru is THE BEST. Though I love HikaxHaru too :P Anyway, I hope you enjoy it – and feel free to criticize if you feel it's necessary, I like to know how to improve :) Also, just to let you know, the part in italics at the very beginning is just something I made up to kind of introduce the story, I thought it was kind of appropriate, however, no one's actually saying it. Just in case any one got confused by that :)
Summary: 'She's his daughter who he likes to cosplay with, and occasionally thinks about kissing, and marrying.' Tamaki takes Haruhi shoe shopping and re-evaluates how he actually feels towards his 'daughter'. One-sided TamaxHaru. Read&Review.
'All those other girls and guys,
They buy you chocolates,
Flowers,
They tell you how much they like you,
But, in the end, they don't feel like I do.
They don't love you like I do,
You and your clumpy, brown shoes.'
"Senpai, why did you drag me here?"
Sometimes he wonders how she can bear to walk around like that.
The messy, not-quite-brown-yet-not-quite-black hair;
The sickly pale skin,
The too thin frame
Covered by the bleached white button-down shirt,
Grimy, floor-length trousers,
And, to top it all off, those hideous, brown shoes.
Which where smeared with grey dots,
Kaoru calls them 'freckles,'
Do shoes even have freckles?
Not that she'd care, of course,
The minute, no, the second he opens his mouth about her dress sense – she goes off into a warbled speech about gender inequality.
Sometimes he feels like shoving a sock down her throat.
Sometimes, that is.
You see, there were other times,
Better times,
Where he didn't feel like whacking her.
Where he didn't want to yell the words 'YOU'RE A GIRL! ACT LIKE ONE!' in her face.
There were better times when all he could think about doing was ruffling her hair,
Softly embracing her,
Planting slight kisses on her chap stick smothered lips.
Wait, no, Daddy's don't think about doing that to their kids.
They do that sort of stuff with their wives.
He shudders at that particular thought.
After all, who'd want to kiss a wife like Kyoya?
Who'd want to have a wife like Kyoya?
Besides, Haruhi's lips look so much more softer than his.
Ugh. There it was again: Haruhi.
Somehow, she'd managed to trample her way into his head.
Her and her ugly, brown shoes.
Damn those shoes.
He wasn't even sure if they were chain store bought,
No respectable person, commoner or not, could possibly want to walk around in those things.
They were just so clumpy.
Why, oh why, did fate have to land him with such an unruly daughter?
Yes, that's right, daughter.
Not enemy,
Not friend,
Most definitely not lover,
She was his daughter.
His daughter who he liked to cosplay with and, occasionally, thought about kissing.
And marrying.
Oh, and there was this one time where he considered-
God, it's started again
Basically, she was his daughter – end of.
Except...
No exceptions.
He wasn't going to fall into that mental trap for a third time.
Speak of the devil, he slowly gazed around the store, eyes picking out any possible contestants...
Heels are out of the question.
Ditto Biker boots.
Ditto sneakers.
Don't even get me started on Wellingtons.
No sandals either – even though that pink pair with the flowers look so cute.
Unless...
"Hey Haru-chan! What do you think of these?"
He dangles the flip flops in mid-air, hoping she'll appreciate the intricate lace strap at the back.
"No."
He sighs meaningfully.
'Why God, why did you have to give me such a difficult child?'
He murmurs to himself.
He already knows the answer, however,
'She's not your child. She isn't your responsibility.'
It's always like that with the others.
Like it's such a simple problem – all he has to do is stop caring about her.
Just switch it off – like he does to his brain during Chemistry.
They don't seem to understand that he can't help himself.
It's not like he volunteered to feel this way.
He doesn't ask to get jealous every time a certain pair of moronic twins come near her.
He didn't intend to feel bitterness as to the way Mori can easily carry her over his shoulder.
He didn't want to envy Kanako for being allowed to fuss over her.
Heck, what was there to even fuss about in the first place?
I mean, apart from the fact that her hair's so soft, clean and tufty.
And he loves the way it sways with every step she takes.
Aside from the fact that her skin isn't sickly,
It's pretty like that of a porcelain doll.
Not including that she's not too thin,
She's just right.
In every way, shape and form.
And her eyes are pure, innocent, almost child-like;
Just like her heart (once you look past all the sarcasm).
She's also kind, at times.
Granted, she isn't a doormat, nor an optimist, or even a cheerful person for that matter.
Though, to be honest, he doesn't want her to be any of those things.
She has her sarcastic jibes (most of which are about him) and she's rather serene, yet cynical.
As if she's taking a backseat to life and all its bitterness.
But she's sweet, too.
Even if you're a freakishly delusional, frighteningly positive adolescent who hasn't had the perfect childhood.
She'll still smile at you and sit through your life story,
Probably just out of pity,
But you don't care. Because it feels nice to have her undivided attention.
Especially when she's feeding you food and wearing a glamorous dress.
And you wonder, for a split second, as you babble aimlessly away at her: 'are you dreaming?'
Because, really, this moment's too perfect to exist in reality.
Did he mention that she's honest as well?
She's never understood why he risked his life to save her;
Why he jumped in, just to haul her limp hand out of the damp water.
Before scalding her into oblivion.
'After all, you made Daddy worry...'
He whimpers into his bed sheets.
But really, it's deeper than that.
Yet when she came,
Eyes downcast,
To apologize.
He was amazed,
Because she looked so forlorn, remorseful
And lonely,
So sincere and willing,
It was almost as if she was overreacting to the whole situation.
He never thought she could act quite so seriously.
At least, not to him, anyway.
'Then again,' He thinks to himself,
Gripping the hem of his Chinese silk jacket,
Which, to be honest, doesn't compare with the feel of the warm gingham dress she wore that fateful day.
'This is Haruhi after all – she's full of surprises.'
And, in the sixteen years and five months he's been alive, he's never been more right.
Because she's Fujioka Haruhi,
With her hair that doesn't quite reach past her ears,
And her homely eyes that burst with something sweeter than life itself.
She doesn't care if she hasn't got six beach houses on the California West Coast,
Or parents that own a major chain of companies,
Or even a passport which deems her as a first-class citizen.
She's just her 100% real self,
With dreams that she can hang on to,
And problems that she has to face.
In truth, she's more real than he ever was.
She's the girl guys like him don't fall for.
So he's left wondering why he did.
And yes,
He's aware that every one of his thoughts contradict his past statement.
Because, in all honesty, there were a lot of reasons to fuss over Haruhi.
More than there were stars in the sky.
'You're going to eventually run out of stars, you know,'
He can hear her say.
But he won't.
He won't ever run out of reasons as to why he loves Fujioka Haruhi so very, very much.
In a way that no father ever could.
"Hey, Senpai, what about these?"
He turns to come face to face with Haruhi herself, adorned in a pair of similar, clumpy, brown shoes.
And, in truth, she's never looked cuter.
"I suppose Daddy has no other choice – does he?"
He mutters reluctantly. Noting the discarded boxes of similar, chunky brown flats.
But, secretly, he's smiling on the inside.
Because even if she doesn't understand right now, she will do eventually.
And, until then, he's fine with just having her as a daughter.