Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Ouran High School Host Club. Sadly.

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After dismissing Kyoya's comment, Tamaki looked at me impatiently

"Do you remember?" Tamaki asked hopefully.

"Not really," I said. "I remember my father."

"Great, the one thing she should forget," Tamaki said angrily as he paced around. I laughed a little.

Someone knocked quietly at the door. "May I come in…?" a male's voice asked. Father? I silently wondered. Tamaki stopped at the door and opened it.

A man with black hair and a lab coat entered with a clipboard and a fancy-looking pen. "Fujioka, Haruhi," he read carefully. "Minor amnesia."

"That's me," I said. He nodded and wrote something on his clipboard, and looked back up at me.

"Do you remember anything since you've been hit?" he asked. "Dreams, memories?"

"Well, I did remember my father, and then accidentally knocking over a vase," I said.

"And some things that my friend and boyfriend have told me."

"Sir, is she okay?" Tamaki asked. "Is there anything wrong with her?"

The doctor chuckled to himself like he suddenly remembered some inside joke. "She does have amnesia, but she should eventually get back to normal."

"How long will this be?" Tamaki asked urgently. "her getting back to normal, I mean."

"Well, you're lucky she's not suppressing traumatic memories. Most trauma patients have trouble remembering things they are repressing. Haruhi here," he said, looking down at that clipboard that seemed so damn important, "should be better soon."

I was watching the doctor scrawl his neat letters onto a paper and then rip of a sheet and hand it to me. He then wrote more on that clipboard and set his pen at the top. "Now-"

"Haruhi!" a man's voice yelled as he threw open the door, and screams penetrated through the walls.

"Ma'am, ma'am?" the voice of a stressed nurse shouted. He ran to me with his long auburn hair tangling down past his shoulders.

"Dad?" I asked. He took the palm of his hand and put it toward Tamaki's head and pushed him away from my bedside, where he had taken a seat just moments before.

"Oh, Haruhi, you remember me!" he said as he got me into a headlock of a hug and didn't let go. He made a large sighing noise and then turned to Kyoya.

"Ranka," Kyoya said pleasantly. His tone of voice had changed from when he had last mentioned something about the flowers from a beach trip. "Nice to see you again." I looked around for Tamaki's greeting, but instead I saw his body hunched up in a corner, muttering incoherent words to himself.

"You too, Kyoya," My father smiled. The doctor looked around the room and made a face I can only say meant, Who let me in the room with all the crazies?

"Well, since her mother is here, I guess it is a good time to tell you we are going to release her as soon as possible," The doctor laughed.

"Father," my dad corrected. "I am her father." The doctor tried to smile, but only got one corner of his mouth and reminded me of the small smirk Kyoya possessed when he was looking particularly evil.

"I apologize, Mr. Fujioka," the doctor said.

--- One Hour Later ---

I felt a lot more comfortable now. Wearing clothes that didn't feel like they would be better suited on a bed, and I would most likely get to eat food that wasn't pre-historic. As I left the hospital doors with Dad at my side, with Kyoya and Tamaki in tow, looking at the flowers around the hospital doors.

The sky was a clear blue, that reminded me of Tamaki's beautiful eyes. I took a glance back at him and thought about my father's behavior. Was he rude to Tamaki because was were dating? So I dropped back a little and looked at Tamaki's hand. It seemed to warm, and inviting probably soft, too. What!? I screamed mentally. Warm? Soft? Inviting???? These were not things I wanted to think about someone I had known for only a day… or so. Think about other things, I scolded.

The air. It was cool, and fresh compared to the stale hospital air. The fragrance of flowers came with the wind and seemed nice. I didn't like the fake, sterilized air that they gave to the sickly people. I enjoyed this more, it was so much more nicer.

"K-yoya!!" Dad shouted as we walked toward a nice black vehicle that only could have belonged to the super-rich. "Is this what we're supposed to drive in? This wonderful carriage?" He was now examining every aspect of the car.

"Only the best," Kyoya said with unimaginable coolness and grace. My father hopped inside the front seat, next to the driver, who seemed suddenly startled by the…thing inside the car. He began pushing buttons, and adjusting dials, which just angered the driver, who was switching everything back to their original settings.

"What a beautiful car!!" My dad kept searching through everything as I pulled up my cargo pants and slid inside the car. Tamaki, was right next to me, being as careful as possible to let me choose my seat. Kyoya was already sliding in the left seat, and Tamaki was on the right side. So I grabbed the middle seat and strapped on the seatbelt.

"Are you okay, Tamaki?" I asked sincerely. He yanked on the seatbelt and tried to get in toward the awkwardly-angled seat belt thing that took the metal piece. I couldn't recall what the name was.

"Fine," he said as he finally got the seatbelt strapped in, but accidentally pulled his hand away and touched mine, which made him turn a shade of light pink. I tried to savor the moment in my mind as much as possible. His hand was like silk. Soft, warm silk. Even more than I had imagined.

"Ready?" the driver asked. I nodded furiously, almost afraid my head was going to fly off. I glanced over at Kyoya, who was turned toward the window, and caught a glare of the sun in his glasses, so I couldn't see his eyes. I felt for my glasses again.

I tried to distract myself again by looking at my lap, which just made me glance over at Tamaki's hands, which were folded in his lap. The one closest to me facing palm up. It was tempting not to grab it. Would it be socially incorrect? Would Kyoya mind us being a couple in public? What about Dad, what would he do? "You know, sir, you have very nice hands," my Father said. I rolled my eyes. My father wouldn't see.

"T-tamaki?" I whispered softly in his ear. He turned his head and smiled a little.

"Yes…?" he whispered back. I began staring at his hand intently. Why did I want to hold his hand so badly? It was just his hand, and I'd bet I've done it before. I didn't move. "Haruhi?"

I couldn't look, I just couldn't see this. I turned my head away, and then grasped it tightly. I relaxed my hand so I wouldn't puncture his soft baby-smooth skin. "Oh!" I surprised myself.