"My life closed twice before it's close,
It yet remains to see,
If Immortality unveil,
A third event to me
So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these twice befell.
Parting is all we know of Heaven,
And all we need of Hell."
-Emily Dickinson
Haruhi Fujioka groaned to herself, her head resting gingerly on the toilet seat, her limbs splayed out awkwardly around it. Up to this point, she had been completely oblivious to the synthetic concept of passing time, and it was now that she bothered to turn to look at the old, now poorly illuminated old red digital clock that sat on her bathroom counter, scarcely having the energy to do so.
4:21 AM.
Of course, she had had to squint in order to see the small dot that marked AM or PM.
She had a very vague, surreal memory of running to the bathroom in the morning, only able to turn one of the lights on, (Just her luck) in her frenzy of her scuttle to the bathroom, the bile rising in the back of her throat while her stomach felt weighed down.
It had maybe been… Eleven or twelve o' clock was as close as she would ever be to the factual time.
She remembered a flurried pandemonium in which she had proceeded with several dry heaves, which was followed by what could have been anywhere between five minutes or up until now.
She was irresolute as to whether or not she had fallen asleep, perhaps she had closed her eyes for a minute.
Yes, perhaps that was it.
Haruhi carefully, grasping the corner of the counter with one hand and pushing down on the toilet seat with the other, shoved herself upward.
It was as though gravity was attempting to drag her back down to the floor, through the center of the earth, through the mess of magma and partially hardened iron and rock to the center of the earth, where she would be liquefied and burned into a scrumptious Fujioka Soup.
She bent over the sink, face to face with the porcelain and tin.
The horrible stench that came from her vomit was horrible, thickening the air with the stench of stomach acid and half-digested sushi, much like dry ice having water poured on it, spilling under the doorway licking it's sordid tentacles and stretching them around every possible object it came in contact with.
The room felt thick and muggy.
Haruhi, still in a daze, turned on the sink, off-balance and, although no longer nauseated, dizzy. She splashed the gelid water on her face, after hesitating for an instant, then she concluded that it was unnecessary for her to worry about the temperature.
Unperturbed about getting water in her bangs, especially considering they were already damp and plastered, stationary, to her forehead, she scurried for a towel that she had perhaps used to wash her face a couple days ago, being the disorganized person that she was, wiped her face and seized her glasses, rarely used evermore due to Tamaki's constant insistence.
She turned her face upward to the mirror, staring at her befuddled expression. She moaned and flipped on the fan, the reek of the bathroom sickening her.
Clad in a pair of ripped up, old SOFFE shorts and a huge white t-shirt that belonged to her father long ago, she noticed she had been sweating significantly and her shirt was wet with it.
Uncaring, considering her bathroom was connected to her room, she slid off her shirt and walked into her room, probing quietly through her drawers in the darkness, before she slid on another shirt with a relieved sigh. She slid off her glasses and set them down on the sink, and, completely exhausted, flopped down on her bed, climbing up the comforter and curling up beneath it.
Haruhi rarely threw up, the only times she recalled it were when something bad was going on somewhere else, such as the time Tamaki and her had been arguing over something so trivial as her fighting off some perverts.
Although, she had to admit, he had been right. She had nearly drowned that day, and, in all respects, she did owe it to her current boyfriend for doing such a thing. She had been irrational, no doubt about that.
But nevertheless, she had been disgruntled and, after having so many wonderful crab legs, the sweet and salty meat from them popping forth from the fresh shells, she had just gone and vomited.
And it was, of course, due to her being under stress.
It was kind of an intuitive sense she had always had.
Haruhi was too drained of energy to open her eyes, much less, shrug.
So within that odd limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness, she mentally shrugged.
Haruhi was rather unpleasantly aroused from her slumber when her phone began vibrating and blaring out a standard, default ringtone.
She slowly, after being dragged from the darkness and the recesses of her mind, mustered up the pittance of energy she had claimed in the midst of her slumber to reach over, not bothering to open her eyes, and flipped the phone open, half groaning, half screeching, "TAMAKI, YOU IDIOT!"
Before briefly snapping it shut, her uproar had been met with egotistical fiddle faddle and whatnot of what was genuine concern, with a dash of Tamaki's obnoxious, loud personality shaken in and served up.
Of course, however, her efforts were in vain, as her cellphone, borrowed from the Hitachiin twins, of course, began ringing once again.
Haruhi, deciding it was no good, rolled over in her cocoon of down comforters and fleece throws and picked it up.
"Yes, Tamaki?""Haruhi! I was so worried, I thought you were angry with me. Oh, princess, it was terrible, I felt such a sense of pain and grief for disturbing such a beautiful young woman who is to be admired in her-"
"Just… Stop." Haruhi interjected, knowing full well that he would go on forever if she didn't cut him off. She wasn't truly as aggravated as she constantly sounded, she just found that he shut his mouth faster this way.
Her approach was met with an awkward moment of silence. "I'll be there soon." She sighed.
"It's odd," Tamaki said quickly, and Haruhi could recognize now that his voice was dampened down with genuine worry. "Kaoru and Hikaru have yet to show up as well." Haruhi could easily picture him shrugging. "Oh well. I'll see you soon, my love." He said radically. Haruhi sighed. She rather disliked being treated like a guest at the host club oftentimes, but she supposed it couldn't be helped.
Haruhi took a deep breath and, gently stepped out from underneath her warm blankets to the seemingly glaciating carpet and air. She shivered, suddenly wishing she'd worn longer pajama bottoms as she stood up, trying to regain her balance and slowly achieving her goal. She walked out, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to meet her father, blithely ironing her blazer and tie, humming a quick little tune as he did so. "Oh, Haruhi~!" He sang out. "I have your school clothes right here, my, do they look adorable!" He smiled, as usual, his hair was pulled out, though he had shaved this morning.
Haruhi forced a smile, she still felt positively dreadful and nauseated for some reason, again, this was rather extraordinary. "Thanks, Dad." She said quickly, feeling as though she was choking on her own saliva. She coughed for a moment, before grabbing the rest of her uniform with a smile that most definitely was far from genuine.
Haruhi took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. It was certainly not a possibility that she was sick? Surely after all this time of being healthy nonstop, she couldn't be sick?
She shrugged it off. No, that wasn't it.
She returned to her room, her father humming, half singing to himself as he cleaned and prepared breakfast.
Haruhi quietly shut the door behind her, the last puff of air from the crack of it expelled as the door secured itself.
She tore off her clothes and redressed quickly, though before she put the jacket on, she turned and walked to her bathroom. The funk of that early pre-dawn incident had subsided a while ago, leaving the overpowering aroma of aerosol air freshener and a plug-in that smelled of melons.
She examined herself in the mirror for a split second, before shrugging halfheartedly and washing her face with a blackhead cleanser.
Aside from the mild changes that had occurred while it was still dark out, this was the accustomed routine for the young woman.
She rinsed her face, the water warmer this time, splashing it gently against her skin. The only make-up she had ever used was foundation, and she quickly applied that in not more than a few swift strokes of a pad and wet/dry powder.
She stepped back, briefly examining herself before confirming that she didn't look as dreadful as she felt.
She grabbed her messenger bag from beside her old, dark wooden dresser and placed it precariously upon her shoulder, feeling the sudden weight cause her muscles to tense.
She felt around the dresser for loose change, finding a trifle amount that would probably do for the bus fee.
Stepping outside the door, she pondered for a moment what kind of excuse to give her father as to why she wasn't going to eat breakfast.
Her stomach still felt tense, as though she was going to projectile vomit everywhere. She sighed and winced.
"Harrruhhhiii~"
"Yes, Dad?"
"Come have breakfast!"
Haruhi winced. "Err, sorry, dad. I have… stomach pains."
Her father looked shocked for a moment. "But you only get stomach pains when something's wrong!" He blinked and gasped, and Haruhi stared back at him, smiling nervously. "Err. I know. I'm not too sure what's wrong yet. Just-"
"Oh no! Maybe you're sick! Maybe you should stay home! Do you have food poisoning, oh, I hope not! Have you thrown up?"
"No, Dad. I'm fine." Haruhi lied, smirking and giving him a fast hug. "I love you." She said, putting on her finest grin. When he saw his daughter beaming like that, and edging toward the door, he sighed. "All right. But call me if you get sick, okay!" He said worriedly. "Daddy's here!" He gasped hysterically.
Haruhi shot him a wide smile and he continued in his reverie even as she shut the door behind her, taking the stairs two at a time in order to perhaps take her mind off of the ache centered in her abdomen. She grimaced and half dashed toward the bus stop.
When the bus finally arrived, still feeling woozy, Haruhi slammed the bus fare into the small box, the sound of the small coins reverberating through the metal box as she took a seat as close to the door as possible.
This bus seldom got very close to Ouran Academy, so it was necessary that she walk a rather sizable distance before she got there. Somewhere in the vicinity of half a mile.
Once the bus screeched to a halt after passing by several rather uneventful places, Haruhi, seated alone and solitary on the bus, stepped off, feeling and hearing, simultaneously, her feet slapping against the concrete.
She began her hike, though half a mile really isn't so long at all, so she arrived without haste or any waste of time, whatsoever.
The road was rather distraction-free and, in no time, Haruhi stepped into music room 3.
Phew. ._. For whatever reason, I really like this chapter.
Okayyy, sooo…
Review for more? Usually the more reviews I get, the faster I come out with chapters. (: Sorry if I put in a lot of little nonsense. I'm a NaNoWriMo graduate, so I'm totally used to it.
Let me know what you think!
-Rem