Based on the prompt "tears" for the Ouran Contest community on Livejournal (see the link in my profile).

The book came from the personal library of Yuzuru Suoh, although he admitted that he had never opened the thing. Mythology did not interest him, he said as he passed the dusty volume on to his eager son. The tales were too much like soap operas, which was exactly why his son Tamaki adored them. The boy, at age nineteen, never failed to sob at television finales - even if he had never watched the show - and minor traffic accidents.

Which was why he trekked over to the high school building one wintery afternoon and demanded to see Haruhi Fujioka.

"My father's fine, Tamaki." Haruhi tried to ignore her boyfriend's quivering lip. The whole of class 3-A was staring at them. "It's just a broken wrist, nothing to worry about."

"If it was nothing to worry about, why did he have to go to-" Tamaki was silenced by a cold glare. Haruhi's eyes flashed dark with irritation.

"You have to go to the hospital when you break a bone, so they can put the cast on." Her voice was even. "Now I was up all night taking care of him-" (there was a collective gasp of admiration from Haruhi's fans) "-and I'm really tired, so I'd appreciate it if you let me study in silence."

Tamaki couldn't help it. When he saw her angry face, something welled up in his throat, a bitter mix of sympathy and rejection. Before he knew it, a small tear was rolling down one cheek. Then, another. And another. The fourth tear rolled right down his freckled nose and landed with a soft plop on Haruhi's textbook. She looked up, venomous.

"Why do you have to be such a crybaby?" Haruhi's expression was cool and controlled, but Tamaki could see frustration in her brown eyes. She shoved one finger in the direction of the door, and said, "Out. Now."

But Tamaki didn't go. He crouched down beside her and pulled out something heavy and green, with gold lettering. A book.

"Not another myth," Haruhi groaned. She turned, defeated, to face Tamaki. He was busy flipping pages back and forth, muttering to himself.

Then, he landed on one near the middle of the book and jabbed one finger at a passage of small text.

"There's a god in Egyptian culture," Tamaki began with excitement, "named Atum. He was the only god at the time, you see, and he was lonely, so he had two kids-"

"If he was alone, how did he have kids?"

"That's not the point! He had two kids, but then they got separated." Tamaki's eyes shimmered with emotion at this part. "They were apart for a long, long time, and when Atum finally saw his children again he was so happy that he cried big tears of joy! And do you know what happened to those tears?" He leaned in towards Haruhi. She tried not to notice his soft hair tickling her cheek.

"No. I don't."

"They turned into people! His tears hit the ground and created life." Tamaki stuck one finger in the air matter-of-factly.

The girls in the surrounding desks cooed with adoration.

Haruhi shook her head. "What does that have to do with anyth-" Her face went flat. "Please don't tell me that you only pulled out this story to justify your crying over my dad's arm."

Tamaki puffed out his chest a little. "Mythology has applications in everyday life, no matter how you argue. The stories were created as teaching methods."

"You're obnoxious, did you know that?" Haruhi half-smiled as she packed up her belongings and prepared for dismissal.

Tamaki ruffled her hair. "But you love me anyway." He then stood up, tucking the book under his arm. "Can I come over this afternoon?" He said it soft enough so that the girls of 3-A were practically falling out of their seats to hear.

For a moment Haruhi remained blank and serious. Then, barely above a whisper, "Your house. My dad's home, remember?"

Tamaki turned read up to the tips of his ears, a goofy grin spreading across his handsome face. His soft blonde hair was ruffled from the wind, and the biting cold had turned the tip of his nose red. He had the appearance of a very bashful puppy.

"Well, I'll just, uh, meet you outside after school." Tamaki rubbed the back of his neck and started to back out of the room. "Okay? See ya, Haruhi." And with another adorable smile, he was gone.

Haruhi bowed her head, trying to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks. Her eyes fell on her open textbook, a few of the words still obscured with damp tears. She watched them, half-waiting for something extraordinary to happen. Atum's tears had created life; through his love and joy a whole world had sprung into existence. And Tamaki...

Perhaps myths did represent life.

The Host Club was proof enough of that.