A/N: First Ouran fic. God! I've been deathly afraid of writing this fandom (translation: ruining it) as it's been my recent favourite and Haruhi is probably the hardest character to write in this world. :throws a stick at the emotionless girl: But yes, I tried. She's a little (okay, very) OC here probably but for good reasons (I have an excuse…read on)! Pardon the run-on sentences, the ending, and very bad humour with this running joke. Reviews are better than cake and here's some good old Ouran love!
Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. Though I don't think I'd mind having any of the Host Club boys. Hey, I'd even take Haruhi if she was actually a man. Bisco Hatori rocks!
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It was an ordinary day at the Ouran host club. More or less anyway…
The twins were being lewd again.
It wasn't even news to her any longer. She'd gotten used to their tangled limbs and cheeks pressed against each other's and the entire act in general—as far as they didn't trap her in between. The other day with the licking-cookie-crumbs-off-Haruhi's-face had been a little awkward—not to mention creepy—on it's own but for some reason, this day happened to set her off quite a bit more.
Still, she told herself that she would not explode. She would not explode. No, she would not explode…despite the temptation and all and the twisting cramps in her stomach and the chocolate craving that could not be satisfied because Honey-senpai had managed to empty the club's stock and Mori-senpai had disposed of the remainder in fear of his cousin getting another cavity.
Hikaru had gone out of his way to trip her so she had landed in Kaoru's arms and of course the more sensible twin had to catch her like the damsel in distress she was not—in the metaphorical sense anyway because if one got literal, the distress was unbearable at this time of the month. Still, even that would have been tolerable had a worried Hikaru not come rushing over and pulled his brother in a crushing embrace, her diminutive form sandwiched between them, and just when she had thought to grumble about going entirely ignored amidst the twincest display, they both turned their attentions to her as if rehearsed and gasped "Haruhi! Did we hurt you? Poor baby!" and proceeded to grab a hand each and press it against their respective right cheeks.
She really did try to hold in the eye-roll and the irritation in general but Tamaki-senpai had come running (to her rescue?) and scolding and being the drama queen—king, whatever he was, telling the "scandalous, good-for-nothing Hitachiin brothers" to get away from his "daughter" while they stuck their tongues out at him in unison.
Now, however, they had their arms around her—four arms around her—and really, these cramps weren't helping, nor was the volume of the squealing coming from the general female audience.
Really, this was too much, and only under extraordinary circumstances did she do what she did then. Since Tamaki-senpai was still busy spewing a tirade of offensive phrases against the twins who just held her tighter to feed his annoyance, she sent a pleading look in the direction of the club's bespectacled vice-president, who either didn't catch it or ignored it altogether.
As if it was really a surprise, she wondered, almost on the edge of her patience now.
Why she had expected him to do anything, she did not know. He was always finding ways to increase the (financial) productivity of the Host Club and more than once, she found it maddening. Yes, she had realized long ago that he was interested in merits to a point of abnormality but also that he was not greedy. Well, it wasn't as if he needed the money anyway, the rich bastard. Then why couldn't he calmly take over the situation when it got out of hand like always?
"HIKARU! KAORU! LET ME GO!" she screamed, and with a sudden adrenaline rush, broke free of the double-hold and made a run for the washroom.
Stupid, rich bastards just had to be stupid boys as well. All of them (and no, Renge did not count as any source of potential help either)!
Upon her return to the third music room, she was a little awed at her own outburst. The room was empty now but as she scanned it, it hit her why her nerve endings would sizzle at this ridiculous club's antics. What did these peopleknow of reality or practicality or hardships and lessons learned? What did they know of feminine problems? Hell, they didn't know the first thing about a woman.
She had at least counted on Kyouya-senpai to be a little considerate and was almost certain he was observant enough to know it was that time of the month—and not just because of maternal instinct either, (insert eye-roll here).
But no.
He was still as clueless as the rest of them…for once. Ignorant bunch of rich bastards!
All that seemed to matter to them was charming up or pouring their hearts out to oblivious little rich girls, or making profit, or meddling with taboos, or feeding or eating cake. It was sheer madness. Honestly.
A moment or so later, the door opened and the Host Club sans Haruhi re-entered the room with perceptive frowns, even Kyouya-senpai. Tamaki-senpai, as soon as taking note of her presence, ran up to her and put both hands on her shoulders and asked with true horror in his eyes, "Is Haruhi alright?"
When she didn't respond, he proceeded to shake her lightly, then a harder. "Haruhi!" his voice was entertainingly musical again, chiming out her name, but she was too exhausted to react. "Otou-san is worried!"
The twins came up and apologized for their game and explained how they were just experimenting with the public response on the twins-plus-Haruhi-act but didn't realize she'd been having a bad day. Honey-senpai dug out some cake for her—"Surprise, surprise! Haru-chan!"—while the two dark-haired boys stood quietly, trying to give her the peace only they understood she needed. They had probably figured out the true reason albeit a little too late.
She supposed it made sense for them to forget some things because they were human after all, even if forgetting meant that sometimes they forgot that she was a girl…with ordinary girl problems.
They were a likable lot as well, if she thought hard about it, which she never really did much of because although she'd notice most things before they'd slap her in the face, these kinds of things weren't always as obtrusive and obvious. These things weren't always easy either and sometimes they just had to slap her in the face to be openly understood.
Because it wasn't as if she didn't notice that Kyouya-senpai wasn't also a good person despite how hard he tried to hide the fact, and that Mori-senpai understood more than he'd let on. Honey-senpai genuinely did believe that cake could cure all and the thought made her smile, and the twins breathed a sigh of relief at that smile and she couldn't help but forgive their idiotic games either. And then there was Tamaki-senpai, of course…who just had to pull her into a hug, squealing about his "cute little daughter" upon seeing her let out a smile. Her face was pressed flat against his chest so that if she were to speak, his shirt would easily muffle her words though it was not as crushing a hug as the twins' had been. So yes, maybe Tamaki-senpai could sometimes be a little more than a hopelessly naïve little teenager. Sometimes…
And maybe she was getting delirious or the bizarre estrogen-progesterone madness going on inside her was doing this to her but this actually wasn't too uncomfortable…and it hit her like a brick that she had to fight her own arms to not encircle him in return. Creepy.
Maybe, ordinary wasn't the right word for a day like today after all.
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