Haruhi Fujioka knew the moment she spoke that she would regret that moment for the rest of her life.
She continued to stare blankly up at him, despite the painful emotional turmoil yet raging inside of her. She was confused. Thrilled, exhilarated, elated to an unprecedented degree, but still she was confused, and for Haruhi: a girl so oblivious that she put Tamaki to shame, confusion would always prevail. He was not himself. That was what she had told herself at least. Kyoya Ohtori did not equate the satiation of lust to currency.
First of all, it was almost laughable to imagine Kyoya having any manner of lust at all. He simply seemed too cold. He was too controlled. He was just too Kyoya.
Secondly, the idea of anything as mere as physical gratification being ample compensation for thousands of yen spent on gift baskets was preposterous at best. In Haruhi's mind it was completely out of the question.
It wasn't like she didn't want this. True, her affections had originally wandered and rotated around the host club, searching for a suitable companion, but she found that it was hard to tear herself away from Kyoya. He was so much more real than the rest of the club. He was the only one who really seemed to be her same species.
Clearly she had enjoyed it. The dimmed lights, the softness of the sheets beneath her, and of course Kyoya, were straight out of a daydream for her. But even in her daydreams, she could not have come up with his eyes. It wasn't as if she had never seen his eyes before. It wasn't as if she didn't love the eyes that she remembered, the eyes that haunted her dreams. It wasn't even as if they were substantially larger without his glasses on. They were simply more alive.
Even behind the mighty glass barrier of Kyoya's spectacles his eyes had the power to pierce her soul in a way she still couldn't fathom. Once removed, she hardly recognized him. They blazed with the splendor of the brightest star, yet still retained the eerie iridescence of a single flickering blue flame. They captured and enraptured her and for a moment she feared that she would be hopelessly disappointed in fireworks from then on, as they couldn't possibly seem any more interesting than a pocket lighter after the intensity of Kyoya's eyes.
And even as that fire consumed every fiber of her being, and even as his hand on her wrist was all the intensity of lightning without the horror of thunder, and even as her heart ached for this to be real, the calm, logical, oblivious, and painfully confused part of Haruhi could not be pushed aside.
"Kyoya wouldn't do this, because there are no merits in it."
And with that single sentence, Haruhi had condemned herself to hours and hours of tossing and turning in bed, clenching her stomach muscles, retreating into the fetal position in a desperate attempt to quell the feelings of regret that churned in her abdomen.
Still, she knew that she could never take back what she'd said. She did her best to move on. She tried to get close to Tamaki. She tried her best to fall for Hikaru. She deigned to fall into the beautiful silence that Mori had offered her. She longed to be seduced by the sweet serenity she found with Kaoru. She wished even to be coaxed into Hunny's adorable embrace. She loved all of them, and she could still feel her heart speed up when she thought of memories she'd had with each member of the host club. She supposed that she should just be satisfied with what she had. She was usually so good at that. She was ambitious of course, but she could take what she was given; and yet she could not help but pine after Kyoya.
She was once again reminded of that fact as she felt something very hard collide painfully with her forehead.
"MOTHER!! LOOK WHAT THESE UNSCRUPULOUS TWINS HAVE DONE TO MY DAUGHTER!!" was the last thing that Haruhi heard before her world faded to black.
"Haruhi?" Tamaki's hushed voice whispered as her eyes were bombarded with sparkles and rose petals.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, the first thing Haruhi recognized was Tamaki. His violet orbs watering with concern were impossible to ignore, even as strands of blond impeded her view of them. Her eyes darted to her left, where Hunny clutched his Bun-Bun and hovered over her nervously, Mori unreadable as ever, but kneeling right behind, eyes locked on her own. Kaoru was busy inspecting every inch of her carefully from her right, just behind Tamaki, Hikaru standing at her feet, staring pointedly at his shoe.
It was only after seeing Hikaru towering over her that if fully registered to Haruhi that she was lying on the ground.
She had been lost in yet another lengthy train of thought about that day with Kyoya when Hikaru's fist had somehow managed to collide with her face. She had been so entranced that she hadn't even noticed until it was entirely too late to do anything about it. It seemed the only thing more infinite than the amount of material that Kyoya managed to find in the Host Club that he needed to record was Haruhi's desire to listen to his endlessly clacking fingers on the keyboard and watch him as he typed it.
"Haru-chan! Haru-chan!" Hunny squeaked, launching himself at her, only to be caught in mid air by his lifelong protector.
"Why?" Hunny demanded, wriggling in Mori's grasp, torn between getting to Haruhi and turning to face the stoic giant.
"Wait." He said, and somehow managed, in that one word, to communicate that jumping on Haruhi right after she was knocked off her chair by Hikaru, having slipped on a banana peel whilst fleeing from Tamaki, might not be the best course of action.
"Thank goodness you're alright." Kaoru breathed, as if he hadn't exhaled properly since the impact, allowing himself to do so only once he had convinced himself thrice that both parties involved were alive and well. He then proceeded to run his hand through Haruhi's hair and draw her into a soft embrace. She did not resist, and Mori took this as consent to release Hunny, who wrapped his arms snugly around her waist and snuggled into her shoulder, and squeezed her tightly.
Tamaki stood, taking her hand gently, and helped her to her feet, where she found herself staring straight into a set of amber eyes that she knew could only belong to Hikaru.
"…I…I'm sorry." He whispered, immediately averting his eyes.
"It's alright." Haruhi said plainly, trying to force a smile out of the dizziness that still dominated her brain.
Seeming satisfied with that answer, Hikaru made his way over to his twin, revealing a mildly disinterested looking Kyoya right behind.
"It's good to see that you're alright, Haruhi. The customers will be arriving soon, and keeping them waiting would have resulted in a regrettably diminished profit margin." He finished his speech with a smile and a flourish. Haruhi's heart plummeted, reminded once again that he was only concerned about merits and profits. Nothing more.
Still, as Kyoya turned to meet the first wave of customers entering the door to the third music room, he pushed up his glasses and the glare receded revealing those beautifully vibrant eyes that Haruhi loved.
"WHAT?!" Tamaki had screamed, less than ten minutes preceding Haruhi and Hikaru's mishap.
"You heard us." Came Kaoru's slick tones. Hikaru threw the peel of the banana he'd been eating to the floor and continued, his voice identically sly.
"We want Haruhi to be cast as a belly-dancer in our Indian themed cosplay next week."
Tamaki's Inner Mind Theatre
Haruhi, clad in a pink belly-dancer's outfit complete with make-up and veil turns away from Tamaki.
"What's wrong, my beautiful Indian princess?"
"Tamaki-kun… I have to entertain my customers, but… all I really want is to dance for you."
Tamaki takes Haruhi in his arms and lifts her chin gently to look in her eyes.
"Haruhi dearest, I too long for such a time."
Haruhi casts her eyes downward and tries to turn in Tamaki's arms.
"But Tamaki-kun, even in this extravagant costume, you're always looking at the other girls."
"Fear not, Haruhi, it is my duty to charm them with words and roses, but my heart will belong with you always."
Haruhi buries her face in Tamaki's chest and clutches his shirt.
"As long as you love me, that's all Haruhi asks for."
Curtain Closes
"I WILL NOT HAVE IT!" Tamaki screeched, shaking his head and clutching his hair in a desperate attempt to rid the images that plagued his brain. He could not, would not, think of Haruhi that way. She was his daughter…wasn't she? He shouldn't be thinking about his child that way. He had begun to question more and more his fatherly affections toward the Host Club's newest member, but without another reason to explain his feelings for the girl, he felt he had no choice but to keep his original ideas. At least until further evidence arose.
"I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU HELL-SPAWNED DEMON TWINS TO OGGLE MY PRECIOUS DAUGHTER!"
Pulling an enormous mallet out of his impossibly voluminous pockets, Tamaki sprinted after the twins, hammer held high and ready for action. Seconds later, however, he noticed that Haruhi, the very person he was fighting to protect, was directly in the line of his pursuit. Haruhi seemed to be completely distracted, and Kaoru and Hikaru were running too frantically around the club room to notice that she was potentially in the line of fire.
"Haruhi!" Tamaki shouted, hoping to draw her out of her reverie in time, but alas, it was not meant to be.
Hearing Tamaki's cry Hikaru clenched his fists and turned mid-step, only to slip on his own inconveniently placed banana-peel. Before he had time to fully comprehend the situation, Hikaru's fist had already collided with Haruhi's face.
Tamaki looked like he had run into a brick wall, and all color except blue was drained from his face.
He looked to Hikaru.
Hikaru's eyes widened and flickered in shock from his own fist, to the red mark rapidly appearing on Haruhi's forehead, and back again.
He looked to Kaoru.
Kaoru turned on his heel sucked in a breath, immediately inspecting Hikaru's offending appendage for any kind of damage.
He looked to Hunny.
Hunny gasped audibly and ran over to where Haruhi had been knocked off her chair, his plate tumbling to the ground cake and all.
He looked to Mori.
Mori's brow furrowed visibly, and before he had realized that the senior moved he was right behind his classmate at Haruhi's side.
Finally Tamaki looked to Kyoya.
Although the reactions from all of the members were dramatic; although those of Hunny and Mori could even be considered intense; although Tamaki was flustered by the severity of the situation and didn't have time to linger on the thought, Kyoya's reaction had had by far the most impact on Tamaki.
Kyoya's eyes had widened, and he had dropped his notebook.
Kyoya wasn't thinking about his profits. Nor was he thinking about his fingers flying across the keyboard of his PineApple laptop. He didn't have to. Years of conditioning had allowed him to type up his ledger and stare at the glaring luminescence of the screen without ever donating it the slightest consideration. His mind had wandered to its new favourite hang-out. The venue that it had decided to inhabit so disturbingly often lately was none other than the Host Club's Natural Rookie.
She wasn't good enough for him.
He wasn't good enough for her.
It didn't matter how you looked at it, they simply didn't deserve each other.
Haruhi was a commoner. He was practically royalty. His blue-blooded nobility could not be tarnished by the courtship of a commoner marring his record. No. It simply wouldn't do.
Regardless, she would never be interested in him. Why would she? She had Tamaki, first of all, falling over himself to be better than his childlike idiocy would allow because of his feelings for her. He was eloquent and loquacious and lavished her with compliments. His feelings for her were so strong that he could not properly comprehend them as those of romantic love. They confused him, so he had no choice but to console himself with ideas of "fatherly affection." Once he came around to his true feelings, he would adorn her further with bold declarations of love and devotion. How could he compete with that kind of audacity?
Then there were the twins. Primarily there was Hikaru, clearly making every attempt possible to land himself in her good graces, but there was also Kaoru, softer and gentler than Hikaru, but with all the same charm and appeal. Even more so, if she played her cards right, or more accurately, if she allowed herself to be won over quickly: before they separated themselves too completely, she could probably even land herself a two-for-one deal. Though Haruhi never really bought into the whole "brotherly love" act, it would be hard to pass up an opportunity like that.
Mori clearly had a leg up on Kyoya when it came to romance, despite their apparent similarities. Neither of them were as outspoken as the other three, and in many respects they were easily comparable. Mori, however, had the advantage of being the "protector" of the Host Club. His silence was kind and comforting, and his soft side was evident thanks to Hunny and their cute, if a little quirky, relationship.
Hell, even Hunny had a better chance at getting with Haruhi than he did. He was adorable for gods sakes, and despite his looks and childlike behaviour, he was eighteen and could easily demonstrate qualities of maturity were he so inclined.
Kyoya folded down his laptop and stood with a sigh, picking up his ledger and writing out his profit predictions for the afternoon. His pencil seemed to move on its own, and as the glare from his glasses obscured his eyes, he fell back into his internal analysis.
Throughout his musings about his competition it was blatantly obvious that there was a common trend that separated Kyoya from the rest of the host club. Even setting aside their arguably better looks and varying levels of devotion, the problem was clear. They were kind. Bubbly compassionate warm fuzzies; the lot of them.
It made Kyoya sick.
Kyoya cared about Haruhi deeply; much more than he would ever admit. She compelled him to do things. Things he had never thought he would ever feel the need to do before. Selfless things.
It scared the living shit out of him.
Even if Kyoya was the kind of person to attempt so-called random acts of kindness, he really couldn't. If he honestly believed that by demonstrating acts of charity he could somehow find a place in the young girl's heart, he would be handing out cash in a heartbeat. It was made clear to him, however, when the host club had gone to the beach, that his fears about changing his behaviour were completely justified. She did not believe that he would, or even could, have any feelings for her of a romantic nature. She saw exactly the image that he had strived so hard to project. She saw him exactly the way he wanted her to.
And he hated it.
Still, if she could not see how he felt about her, he felt absolutely no need to alter that situation. She would go on being oblivious, thinking him cold, heartless, and mean. He would go on hurting every time she looked at him with that disdain, or even worse, fear in her eyes, pining away as she was pursued by other men.
What better way to spend his time?
No one knew about his feelings for the Host Club's newest member, and he would ensure that no one ever did know. He would keep up the façade. After all, he'd been acting this way for years. What was another day in the life? Still, nothing could have prepared him for the awe inspiring terror that was struck into his heart when Tamaki's scream of "Haruhi!" caught his attention.
Hikaru running. He made a fist. He stepped on the banana peel. Hikaru's fist and Haruhi's face made quick, forceful contact, but in Kyoya's eyes, it couldn't have happened more slowly.
His eyes widened, and he couldn't believe, let alone process, the unimaginable pain that he felt in his chest as he watched Haruhi's slight form fall to the floor. In his immediate shock and concern, he instinctively rushed forward, and his notebook fell to the floor.
In a second the entire Host Club stood around her, and it became painfully clear to Kyoya just how unnecessary he was to the youngest host. Of course, he would always be crucial to the club itself. The idea of the other five trying to organize events and manage the budget the way he did was absurd. He almost laughed. Almost.
As if finally realizing the sin that he had committed, Kyoya bent down and carefully collected his notebook before turning back to look over Hikaru's guilty shoulder as inconspicuously as possible. He couldn't ignore the part of him that ached to see Haruhi in pain, but he had his image, his reputation, his pride to think about. The minute he saw her face to face he forcibly choked out some half-assed line about her injury being a hindrance to profits to keep himself in line.
Still, he couldn't help but let a little sincerity slip out into his smile when he realized that she was alright, and he was almost certain that when he glanced back and pushed up his glasses; he was almost certain that he'd seen a little more than the usual sparkle in her eyes.