an: i thought, out of all the pieces to showcase how much my writing had changed in the past three years, this is probably the best one. also, the dress haruhi is wearing is based loosely off violet chachki's bearded runway.
"I miss my mother," Haruhi says, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She's tipsy, and Kaoru has a feeling she's an emotional drunk, just like Hikaru. Of course two of the most important people in his life are emotional drunks. At least Haruhi doesn't act like this when she's sober. "Do you think she'd be proud of me?"
It's a stupid question, really. Haruhi graduated high school as valedictorian, with some of the highest grades Ouran had ever seen on record. She's funny, intelligent, charming - for God's sake, even Kyoya likes her, and Kaoru thinks Kyoya has the emotional range of a teaspoon. And beyond all that, she's a good person. Why wouldn't her mother be proud? Sometimes Kaoru jokes that he wants to be Haruhi when he grows up, but is it really that absurd to want to be like her, when she's one of the best people he knows? Or maybe Kaoru's still a little in love with her. Part of him will always be in love with her, he thinks, no matter who she chooses out of all of them. Perhaps she will marry somebody completely outside of the Host Club. Imagine that.
But he can't say all of this to her, so instead he responds with, "You're drunk."
"I'm not," she slurs a little, pushing her bangs off her forehead. She's grown it out a little since Ouran, but it's still relatively short; her hair curls under just above her shoulders and if it weren't for the curves she acquired at some point during junior year, she could probably still pass as a boy if she tried hard enough. "You know, after she died, I thought maybe if I was good enough then she'd come back."
"It doesn't work like that," Kaoru says without thinking, his eyes turned firmly up to the sky. People probably think they're weird, laid flat on the grass like this, but it's Kaoru's mother's party, so it doesn't matter. Most of the guests are gone, anyway. He doubts anyone will notice his and Haruhi's absence. "And even if it did, it doesn't matter. People don't leave because of something you did or didn't do. If they really want to go, they'll find any reason to."
"When did you get so smart?" Haruhi hiccups, smudging her mascara with her arm as she wipes away her tears. It's makeup his mother probably wrestled her into, not that he's complaining. His mother probably wrestled her into the dress she's wearing, too; cherry-blossom pink with a full skirt stuffed with tulle underneath a silken sheath. She looks like a ballet dancer, or a painting. Kaoru hesitates to call Haruhi beautiful, because she is so much more than that, but right now she truly is. Maybe even moreso than at the beginning of the night, when her hair was perfect and her makeup was untouched. "I don't remember you being this wise."
"Yeah, well," he shrugs, and tilts his head to look at her again. Haruhi has always been a warm sun, something steady to constrast his burning supernova, but in this night, in this moment, they swap places. "Things change."
"They do," she agrees with a small sigh. She's probably going to fall asleep any second, but he wishes she wouldn't. Every part of him wants to live in this moment forever, wants to wrap it up tight so that he can never leave. It's been months since he last spoke to Haruhi like this. Kaoru wishes it hadn't been. "I'm sorry it didn't work out. You and me, I mean. We would've been good together."
He closes his eyes and reaches for her hand in the grass. For once, Haruhi doesn't protest. For once, he feels utterly complete without Hikaru by his side.
"Yeah," he says. "We would've been."