"Fujioka! Hey, Fujioka!"

The girl turned, long brown hair twisting with the movement, and smiled at the boy who had called her. He had messy black hair that hung in his blue eyes and was wearing the uniform typical of their middle school. When he reached her, his breaths came in quick, short pants, and he bent double, trying to catch his breath. She smiled – he was nice enough, she had seen him before. He was in her math class, she vaguely remembered; he sat towards the back. He seemed shy.

"Hi, Hisoka," she replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It appeared his breath had finally caught, and he stood straight again – he was only an inch or so taller than her. He grinned at her, tugging on the bottom of his button-down reflexively. Her eyes caught the movement, and they narrowed ever-so-slightly in confusion. Was he nervous? Why would he ever be nervous? "How are you?"

"Ah, um, I'm fine," he mumbled, the grin on his face wavering slightly as he focused on her, his sky blue eyes troubled. His hands hadn't let go of his button-down. "You?"

"Nothing extraordinary," she shrugged, shifting the weight of her books from one arm to the other and discreetly checking the time on her battered watch. She wondered what Hisoka had to tell her – if he didn't hurry, she would be late to class, and she couldn't be late to class again. Her Languages teacher was sure to be hostile to her if she was so much as one minute late. There was still five minutes left for transfer time, but even so… "Is there anything wrong?"

"It depends," he muttered, so low that she couldn't be sure that was what he said. She leaned closer to hear what he would say next, and his breath quickened while his eyes widened. She tilted her head – what on earth is wrong with him? – and smiled a small, polite smile.

He soon recovered his composure and took a deep breath, obviously trying to act confident.

"Er, u-um, well, Haruhi, I w-was wondering if m-maybe –" His stammers were half-muttered, hardly comprehensible, and Haruhi's eyes flicked quickly down to her watch again. Four minutes.

"Do you need help with math?" she asked, smiling kindly at him, trying to guess at his motives. "Don't worry about it, you don't have to be embarrassed to ask. It's getting more confusing now, but I think I understand, so I can tutor you if you'd like."

His eyes were wide now, and his face had fallen so that it looked even more ashen than it had before. She couldn't imagine what was causing this – it didn't make sense to her. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and bit her lip, watching for his reaction.

When none other came, she shook her head at him in puzzlement.

"Am I wrong?" she asked, shifting her books again. They were becoming heavier and heavier.

"U-um, sort of." His expression was blank.

Sort of? What the hell does that mean?

She took a deep breath and glanced at her watch again, suddenly very aware that there were only three minutes left to get to her Languages class. She needed to be on time, but she didn't want to be mean.

"Look, Hisoka," she began, trying to soften her bluntness with kind words, "I need to get to Languages. You know Miss Saito, she doesn't entirely like tardiness. So, if you could just tell me what you need to, I can definitely help you with everything I can do –"

"I love you, Haruhi," he blurted, his cheeks turning a tomato red as he spoke.

Haruhi Fujioka's eyes widened in surprise, and she stared back at Hisoka Ito in shock. Her eyebrows were raised, her shoulders had slumped, and it was only the shape that she had positioned her arms in that kept her books from falling to the floor.

Love?

"W-what did you say?"

"Um, I kind of really like you, Haruhi," he mumbled quickly, the words blurring into each other.

"You always help people and you're a saint, and you're so beautiful everyone wants to be with you, and I know you want to transfer to Ouran after middle school so I was hoping that maybe you'd like me back and we could spend the rest of middle school together since you're so smart and I know you'll get into Ouran so I thought –"

Haruhi's eyes were still wide, and she was having trouble processing the scene before her. Hisoka fidgeted as he unburdened himself, babbling incoherently, and everything was out of whack - nothing was logical anymore.

"Wait," she managed, her face changing expressions rapidly. "What?"

"I - well, maybe I shouldn't have - I'm sorry, Fujioka, I was just - sorry." He looked tired suddenly, as if he had expended all his energy into the previous words. He was trying to detach himself, she registered dimly, with his return to 'Fujioka' and his awkward, cut off sentences. He was now looking anywhere but at her, his cheeks still a flaming red. But Haruhi still hadn't comprehended what he had said to her in the first place.

"Love?" she got out, her brown eyes large in astonishment. "Are you serious?"

It was more of a rhetorical, personal question, but Hisoka seemed to take it to heart, and his cheeks became even redder as he studiously continued to avoid looking at her. Haruhi absently made a mental note: 'Don't talk to yourself when there are people around to hear you.'

"Sorry, Haruhi," he whispered, his head half-bent and half-turned away from her, as if he couldn't choose which way was best to avoid her eyes. "I didn't mean for you to be discomfited. I just thought - well, maybe - I don't know, see you in math." He looked away, skin bright red and his voice reflecting his sadness and the feeling of rejection. He then turned away from her slowly, as if still hoping for the chance that she'd jump up and stop him from leaving with a declaration of undying love. Haruhi was still suspended in disbelief, however, wondering how on earth Hisoka Ito had taken a liking to her.

"See you," he repeated, and walked away from their spot in the hallway in the opposite direction, mumbling to himself the entire way. Haruhi Fujioka stood in his wake, watching his back disappear around the corner, eyes still wide and mind reeling.

Love? Her?

Just then, the shrill bell rang to signify classes beginning, and Haruhi's mouth snapped closed as she made a noise of horrified frustration.

Late again.