Blood red petals, softer than silk, sat atop the vibrant green stem, crowded in the crystal vase by it's brothers and sisters. They were breathtaking, without any flaws or imperfections on their surface.
They're beautiful, aren't they?" a voice mused, breaking me from my revere. I turned my head to look up at the blond Host Club King. He was smiling slightly, softly, looking peaceful and completely at ease. I almost didn't want to answer him, to give my opinion, for fear he would get upset by it – after all, he was known for his eccentric mood swings. But it still came out, softly, so I didn't hurt his feelings too much or make it seem as though I was doing it intentionally.
"I guess but they're not really my cup of tea," I said honestly, turning back to the roses. They would have been an artist's dream to draw. The natural light from the windows brought out the contours and curves of the flowers and created shadows among the petals and across the little, round table.
"Really? How can you say that something so delicate, gentle and harmless is not beautiful?" Tamaki asked, still keeping most of his calm but his usual eccentrics were starting to seep through into his voice.
"I don't really think a rose is harmless," I told him, picking one from the vase. A single thorn poked out from the stem, threatening to slice through the skin of an unsuspecting victim. I pressed my thumb to the point, hard enough to make it sting slightly but not enough to break the skin. "How many times has someone been pricked by a thorn on a rose? I'm not saying it's not beautiful in it's own way, I just think there are nicer flowers out there."
"Really?"
Tamaki was silent. I turned to look at the rest of the host club. Small tables were dotted across the room, each decorated with an identical vase of roses. They were almost like a trade mark of the Host Club. Their scent filled the room and always seemed to perfumed my clothes so that when I went home I smelled like I had spent all day in a flower show. The guests were starting to trickle slowly in.
"So what is your favourite flower?" Tamaki asked as I began to make my way to my usual table where already my reqestees for the afternoon were waiting. I looked at him, his blond hair was falling into his oddly coloured eyes.
"Cherry blossom," I told him quietly, so that only he could hear me over the excited hum of the Host Club. "They were my mother's favourites too."
The next day was a mess. I had made the mistake of waiting up for my father to return the night before and the entire way through the school day I found myself loosing concentration or drifting off the sleep entirely. By my last class, I had almost considered pretending to be sick and skipping out on club duties but I knew this lack of notice to Kyoya-senpai would only mean a fine which would no doubt be added to my already monstrous debt.
I had told the twins to go ahead to the old music room without me and that I would catch up with them in a minute. I claimed to have a headache and that I needed a few minutes of peace to myself. But no sooner than they had left I rested my head on my desk – only for a moment! – and drifted off to sleep. I was awoken to the concerned voice of the class president as he shook me gently awake.
"Fujioka-kun, what are you doing sleeping here?" he asked. He seemed genuinely concerned.
"Oh, nothing, I just didn't get much sleep last night," I told him truthfully. "What are you doing here? School's over, shouldn't you have gone home?"
"I was on my way, but then I remembered I had forgotten to take my math book with me so I came back," he explained. Then a look of confusion passed over him. "Fujioka-kun, I hope you don't mind me asking, but why aren't you at the Host Club right now?"
My head snapped down to my watch, and after seeing the time I jumped up with a shout, knocking over my chair. I didn't even stop to pick it up, shouting my thanks to the class president over my shoulder as I sprinted out the door, and down the hallway. I had three minutes to make a five and a half minute long journey.
I made it there in two minutes and forty-one seconds.
I didn't dare pause for breath until I was safely inside the club room where I doubled over, hands on my knees, trying to calm my racing heart and get my breathing under control. A shadowed figure appeared silently beside me, so quiet I didn't even notice he was there until he spoke.
"Haruhi, you're late," Kyoya stated, not looking up from his black notebook. "The Host Club is about to start,"
"Nuh-uh! I have nineteen more seconds!" I protested.
"I hope you don't plan to make a habit of this," he carried on, completely ignoring me. "If you do, I'll have to fine you by increasing your debt." He snapped his notebook shut and looked down at me in the evil smile of the Host Club's Shadow King. "Now, you should go to your table, best not to keep the customers waiting."
I stood up straight, my breath having being having been scared back into me by the threat of an increasing debt and made my way over to my regular table. But the sight of something made me stop and stare.
On the table, instead of the usual vase of roses was a smaller vase, no taller than a teacup. In it was a single twig of a tree on the end of which was a cluster of pink petals. I glanced around at the other tables, wondering if it was the theme of the day that I wasn't yet aware of but each of the tables hosted the same identical bouquets of roses as they did every day.
And then my eyes fell on a certain blond.
Tamaki sat in his usual spot, surrounded as he always was by his many adoring female fans. He looked like he always did; there was nothing different about him, except for one tiny detail.
In the top button hole of his blue blazer poke the head of a cherry blossom flower that matched the ones in the little vase on my table, and I knew.
I found myself smiling at his gesture, a soft smile. But as I smiled, he seemed to become aware of my gaze on his and he turned his head towards me. I felt my own face soften for him as I mouthed a silent 'thank you'. A second later, he broke out into a gentle smile of his own – one that made my chest feel a little tighter – and his head bowed to me in response – 'you're welcome'. I watched his smile grow a little wider before he turned back to his guests who hadn't even noticed our little silent conversation.
I turned to my own guests, sitting down in front of the little vase of flowers, ignoring the tightness that would take hold of my chest or the small smile that would creep onto my face whenever I found my eyes drawn to a certain violet-eyed idiot, and thinking about how my day hadn't turned out to be such a mess after all.
A/N: Okay, so this is the first Ouran fan-fiction I've written so all critism, good or bad, is greatly appriciated. If I've made any mistakes along the way, don't hesitate to point them out. In fact, do point them out so I can try and fix them.
I'm new to so any advice or help or tips would be great and please review and let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host or any of it's characters including Tamaki Suoh, Haruhi Fujioka, Kyoya Ootori or the class president of 1A...unfortunatly.