Disclaimer: Ouran High School Host Club, it's characters and affiliates are not mine. (Nevertheless, they are submitted to my twisted whims.)
Warnings: I am not a writer. That doesn't seem to stop me from writing on occasion, though. I apologize in advance, and wish to remind you: Once you've read it, you can't un-read it. Be forewarned.
Irresistible You: Or, a Fateful Attraction.
Haruhi stood, frozen, just inside the doorway of the Third Music Room. Although her gaze was locked onto lone figure reclining motionless on the couch a few scant feet across from her, her calm demeanor betrayed none of the furious struggle within as her heart's desires warred with her sensible nature.
He'd been haunting her thoughts since the beginning, almost. Since their eyes had met and that blush had spread across his face- she'd tried to deny it, but she couldn't help but notice…so cute…
She'd tried to ignore it, focus on her schoolwork, her hosting, her chores. She didn't have time for frivolities- she was going to be a lawyer, she had to take care of her father, there was too much to do. Therewasplenty to keep her busy, really. And it worked- most of the time. But there were moments (when she'd finished her assignments before the end of class, or one of the designators was 'moe'-ing endlessly, or her hands were busy hanging laundry, scrubbing dishes, making dinner; but her mind had time to wander) when he'd come bobbing inexorably to the surface of her consciousness, enigmatic smile teasing, taunting her with thoughts of him.
It didn't help that she saw him every day. In the Host Club after classes, and sometimes, rarely, brief glimpses in the halls of Ouran. There was no relief even during weekends, as the Club infallibly appeared to abduct her for yet another misguided adventure. He was ever-present, and it made it impossible to forget about him.
It was at it's worst in the Third Music Room, when the club was in session. His constant proximity made her fingertips tingle with an almost irresistible urge to touch him. Her arms ached to hold him, to pull him close and…but no. She'd grit her teeth, push aside the longing and distract herself with her clients or thoughts of supermarket specials, steadfastly not noticing his presence hovering on the edge of her peripheral vision.
Until this fateful afternoon.
The Host Club had been in session as usual. Tea was pouring, hosts were hosting, girls were being drawn into the fantasies of their choice; when Tamaki happened to overhear Haruhi describing to rapt debutantes a picnic she and her parents had gone on when her mother was still alive. In true Tamaki fashion, he was enraptured. He declared that the entire Host Club session should immediately relocate to one of many of the school's gardens, tea and all, so that everyone could experience the 'sheer familial joy and wonder of a commoner's picnic'. This had predictably sent girls and hosts alike into a tizzy of anticipation, and they hastily gathered the tea things, pouring out of the Third Music Room in a noisy, excited flood of costly pastel fabrics (while Kyouya, with endless foresight, used the confusion to made a couple quick calls, one to the school's kitchens to direct several baskets of appropriate foodstuffs delivered to their destination, and another to the 'hidden' photographers to alert them to the change of location- he knew a profit opportunity when it was dropped in his lap).
Haruhi had allowed herself to be swept away in the swell of enthusiastic aristocrats with little more than a resigned sigh and shrug. However, before they had even reached the end of the corridor she realized that they had neglected to bring cloths to spread on the grass. Shuddering inwardly at the thought of grass stains on those expensive uniforms, she quietly detached herself from the crowd and turned back to fetch something appropriate from the Club's supply closets. She was fairly sure she'd be able to find something and rejoin the others before they had even noticed she was gone. She had stepped, unsuspecting, through the doors of the Third Music Room; only to find that someone had, unexpectedly, stayed behind.
Haruhi's thoughts and emotions whirled madly. Why he was still here she could not fathom. For whatever reason, there he was, in all his glory. She couldn't think properly with him so near. Her mind shut down completely as after a brief internal struggle her impulses won out. She approached the couch where he lay unmoving, as though drawn by some force beyond her power to resist. Her hand reached out of it's own accord to touch his face, fingertips grazing feather-light over it's surface. So soft. Mesmerized, she traced the outline of an ear, and then all resistance was lost. She sat next to him on the couch, wrapped her arms around him, pressed a kiss to his cheek and with a contented sigh whispered in his ears the words she had been longing to say since they'd met…
"I love you, Usa-chan."
AN: ....what the heck, subconscious.