A/N: A big apology to all of my fabulous reviewers...for whatever reason, my computer isn't letting me respond to them right now. But rest assured that I did read them, and that I treasure every one. You guys completely kick ass! The amount of traffic my stories have had is jaw-dropping...I'm so grateful for all the support.
I do not own Ouran High School Host Club; it belongs to Bisco Hatori.
Fever Dreams
Haruhi made it, just barely, inside the bathroom, before the moan of pain bubbled its way up her throat and trickled through her lips. She locked the door, thankful that the bathroom was an individual one and so she wouldn't have to suffer any questioning concern from other customers, and eased her way to the washing station. Bracing her hands on either side of the sink, Haruhi lowered her head, and struggled to take deep and even breaths.
She greeted the pain with grim resignation and a complete lack of surprise. Over the last few months, she'd become distressingly familiar with this grinding, teeth-gritting sensation in her stomach. The feeling had been small at first; nothing more than a momentary annoyance that she'd easily swept aside. But it had grown, escalated, until the pain not only gripped her stomach like clawed fingers, but resounded in her head as well, an excruciating duet between two body parts.
Stomach aches, nothing more. Just indigestion, caused by stress and a diet consisting of nothing but the heroically bad food the university provided. To reinforce this belief, Haruhi reached into her pocket and took out a roll of antacids. Defiantly, she popped a couple in her mouth, and then raised her head to study her face in the mirror.
Well, she'd certainly seen better days. Her face was devoid of any color, and lightly dewed with sweat. Her hair was escaping the stubby tail she'd tied it in, and she'd bitten her lip to ribbons attempting to hold back her soft sounds of pain. Because her skin was so pale, the shadows under her eyes looked more like bruises. And she'd dropped a little weight recently. Nothing extreme, and certainly nothing to stress about, but sometimes when she got wrapped up in studying, eating dropped a rung on the priority ladder. She was taking extra classes after all, and her independent study at one of the law offices in town kept her hopping.
And truthfully, sometimes the stomach aches were worse after she ate.
It's not a big deal, Haruhi thought defensively. A lot of students forget to eat at college. And honestly, I'm so skinny; any amount of weight I lose looks drastic.
Haruhi pushed her hair out of her sweat-dampened face, tying it back into its little tail. The pain in her stomach wasn't gone, but it had pulled back enough for her to manage it. She'd have to make a reappearance, she knew. Otherwise the boys would worry, and wail, and probably camp outside her apartment for the entirety of Christmas break.
Still, she lingered at the sink for another moment. She could just imagine how ridiculous they were going to be when she came back out; she guessed that at least two of them were going to tackle hug her, and Tamaki had probably already convinced himself (and half of the other boys) that she was wasting away from some terminal illness.
Idiot. Didn't it ever get exhausting, reacting to each situation as if it was a herald of the apocalypse? What trigger did he trip within his genetic makeup that enabled him to ooze drama from every molecule of his being? And how the hell was he able to make that hysteria so contagious?
A soft snort of laughter escaped Haruhi's lips, even as she shook her head. Tamaki was ridiculous; even the most brilliant lawyer couldn't argue that away. But then what did that make the rest of them? Because they all followed him in the end; she was at this coffee shop, wasn't she, when she should have been home studying. How did he take such ridiculous passion, and twist it into some kind of leadership?
Haruhi's laugh subsided into a small, shaky smile. She pressed careful fingers against her ribs, satisfied with only a small wince. She studied her waxy white face in the mirror for a moment longer, and shook her head as the memory of her last illness flitted across her mind.
"Get a hold of yourself, Boss!" Kaoru said, as he watched his twin's face drain of all color. "I'm sure it's just a stomach ache." He curled his fingers around Hikaru's wrist and led him back to his seat. "Haruhi's probably got the flu or something, but she didn't bother to tell us. She's never been one to own up to being sick, remember?"
While Haruhi was busy popping antacids and rationalizing her symptoms, Kaoru had his hands full. He'd managed to get Hikaru back into his seat, but his twin was so anxious he was all but levitating off the chair. Hunni was dancing from foot to foot, twisting his hands frantically and rapidly blinking brown eyes filled with tears. Mori wasn't expressing his concern through movement, but he wasn't sitting either, and Kaoru could see the older boy's urge to protect bubbling up under the tranquility of his default setting.
But the thing that threw Kaoru off of his game was the behavior of the King. Kaoru had fully expected that, after Hikaru, Tamaki would be the most difficult to calm and contain. He'd prepared himself for wailing, weeping, and possibly a bit of bodily restraint. But after what was really a very mild meltdown (by the standards Kaoru was accustomed to) the boss had retreated quietly to his chair. He was sitting now, his hands tightly folded, and lavender eyes, drenched with worry, locked in the direction of the restrooms.
"Wow, Boss," Kaoru commented, giving Mori a pleading glance as he tried to coax Hunni back to the table. "You're awfully calm about all this."
"Do you really think that, after all these years, I've learned nothing?" Tamaki asked. "If I barge in there now, Haruhi will be angry, and she'll leave without telling us what's wrong."
Ah. So, in other words, the only thing holding Tamaki back from kicking in the door to the women's restroom was a healthy fear of Haruhi's wrath. Still, it was impressive that the Host King had even learned that much. Not so very long ago, he'd already be in there, vocalizing his concern loud enough to bring the roof down.
Kaoru had finally managed to get everyone back to the table, when Kyoya came strolling up. Instantly, Tamaki and Hikaru were on their feet again.
"Is Haruhi all right?" Tamaki asked.
"What's wrong with her?" Hikaru demanded.
Kyoya's face was filled with mild surprise as he slid into his seat.
"I didn't go after Haruhi," he said. "I had to make a phone call." He tapped the cell phone in his hand as evidence. "Are you that worried? I'm sure she's fine."
"That's what I was saying," Kaoru burst in with forced cheer. "I was just reminding them of the time Haruhi got sick, and didn't tell any of us. That's just the way she is."
He continued to ramble. It took another five minutes, in which both Tamaki and Hikaru hovered in worried indecision, before the two finally returned to their seats.
Haruhi pressed her face against her desk, and let out a soft sigh. The cool wood felt great against her overheated skin. She'd woken up with a headache, a rolling stomach, and a warmth inside her flesh that hinted at a fever. Her dad had taken one look at her, and attempted to force her back into bed. But Haruhi was far too stubborn to be defeated by something as insignificant as an illness, and besides, she had a test today that she couldn't miss.
But even stubbornness couldn't make the aches go away completely; nor could it banish the greasy ball of nausea building in her gut. So she sacrificed a couple minutes of precious study time, and allowed herself a brief respite in order to rebuild her determination.
"You look like crap."
Haruhi suppressed, just barely, the groan brought forth by the chorus of identical voices above her head. She lifted her face from the cradle of her arms, and squinted bleary eyes at the twins.
The identical scowls decorating Hikaru and Kaoru's faces only deepened upon getting a glimpse of Haruhi's face. Her skin was completely pale, save for two bright flags of color waving on her cheeks. And her eyes, usually so bright and brimming with intelligence, were glassed over and terrifyingly blank.
"Thanks. You guys are the embodiment of tact, really."
Even her voice was wrong. Instead of the dry and somewhat deadpan softness they were accustomed to, she sounded exhausted, completely drained.
"Seriously Haruhi, you don't look so good," Kaoru said, dropping down in the seat next to hers. He studied her with great concern. "You should be at home, in your bed."
A glimmer of Haruhi's smile danced across her face.
"And I'm guessing your next suggestion will be 'and why don't I join you?'" she said. "The pick-up lines never stop, do they?"
"Hey, I'm serious. What could be so important to make you come here when you're clearly sick?"
Haruhi shrugged, and that movement alone seemed to drain her.
"I have a test," she said weakly.
"For someone so smart, you can be really dumb sometimes," Hikaru snapped. He'd yet to sit down, and his golden eyes were bright with anger. "Only an idiot would push themselves too hard during an illness, and over a stupid test."
His hands were shaking as he looked at her, and so he kept them fisted. He hated it; hated seeing her so defenseless, and weak, and wrong.
A dry chuckle whistled from between Haruhi's lips.
"Don't hold back," she invited, even as she dropped her head back on her arms. "Tell us how you really feel."
"Hikaru," Kaoru murmured, and he brought himself to his feet and back to his brother's side. "You know how stubborn she is. She won't leave until after she takes the test. So let's just stick by her and make sure she doesn't push herself too hard. We can cart her home after it's done."
"She won't like that either," Hikaru pointed out. But he relaxed, because Kaoru always soothed him.
Kaoru shrugged, and whatever lit inside his own eyes revealed just how unhappy he also was with the situation.
"Tough."
Decision reached, the twins took to their posts on either side of Haruhi and crossed their arms protectively. She glanced up for a brief moment, blinking, and then reburied her head.
Haruhi remembered taking the test, just barely. If anyone had asked her what was on it, however, she'd have been completely clueless. She remembered moving her pencil and trying to force her fever fried brain to function, but for all she knew, the questions could have been in Greek and she could have answered with detailed doodles of farm animals.
Her memory got even hazier after the test was done. She recalled, very faintly, nodding off in every class afterwards, and being gently shaken by multiple hands. She had the vague impression of her head lolling onto an arm that wasn't hers, and that the owner of that arm had given a small jerk of surprise at the contact. She remembered moving, being tugged along by soft but insistent hands, and blinking at the carousel of colors and faces that spun around her. And she remembered more hands, on her forehead, pressed against her cheek, and supporting her back, and an increased chorus of voices that sang nonsense syllables in her ears.
And then she remembered the absence of light and the feel of lying on something soft, and shivering despite the warmth draped over her. She comes back to herself a handful of times, fighting her way through the thick veils that seem to be draped inside her head for brief moments.
The first time, there is a face hovering anxiously next to her own, brown eyes wide with worry. She wants to smile at him, and at the fact that he has his chin propped on whatever she's lying on. And at his back she sees the outline of a towering figure, and she wonders if she should be afraid. But no, his presence makes her feel safe and warm, despite her shivers.
"Look, Takashi, she's awake," that little face whispers. "How do you feel, Haru-chan?"
But she's wrapped in the veils again before she can answer. The next time she manages to push them back, the little face and the tall shadow are gone. Replacing them are two pinpricks of light, reflecting in the gloom, and a soft scratching sound that makes a small and unexplainable smile curve her lips. The scratching sound stops, as if in response to that smile.
"You're running a very high fever, Haruhi," the voice is smooth, and soft, and it would make her smile bigger if her lips weren't too chapped to widen. "We've called your father. He's trying to find someone to cover his shift at work so that he can come and pick you up."
No, don't, she wants to say. He's busy, so busy, don't bother him. But her throat feels swollen shut.
There is a moment of silence.
"You don't need to worry," that voice finally says. "I won't be adding this day off to your debt." The scratching starts again. "Although, I really should."
Haruhi's brow furrows, and the best she can manage to express her amusement is; "Tsh."
She's gone, floating, and when she finds her way back, there are two again, and they have the same face. And one of them pounces the instant he sees that her eyes are open, and his words are familiar, because she heard something like them this morning.
"Idiot! How could you be so stupid, pushing yourself out of bed, all for a stupid test, and now look at you, you're freaking delirious, and you're just so stupid…"
But his ranting doesn't make her angry, despite the fact that his hard words penetrate even the veils. Instead, she has the strangest urge to reach out, to touch his hand, and give him a smile. And she watches the other one shake his head, and she wants to smile at him too, for always being the gentler side of the same face.
The hissed whispers of the rant fade from her ears, and when she comes back to herself again, someone actually is holding her hand. She makes some sort of inquisitive noise, forcing it from her aching throat, and another hand reaches up to cup her cheek. She almost flinches from it, because its cold, and she's cold, even though her skin is warm. But at the same time, she doesn't want that hand to leave.
"Don't worry, Haruhi," a voice whispers, a beautiful voice. "I'm here. I'll never leave you. None of us will."
And for some reason, she wants to cry. Liar, she wants to say, and the tears build in her chest. You're such a liar. You will leave me, all of you, you'll leave me here alone.
But she can't. Her throat is too thick, and too sore, and the veils wrap her up again before she can find another way to communicate.
When Haruhi woke up the next morning, drenched with sweat and in her own bed, the memories of the day before were even fuzzier. Sorting through them, she couldn't separate reality from the fever dreams. Her dad forced her to stay home another day, but one was all he could manage. She was back the day after, and tottering around on feet that still weren't quite steady.
The boys tried to help her, to support her so that she wouldn't fall. But she snapped at them with an anger that she didn't understand. They brushed it off, of course, but she sensed the confusion, and the faint hurt that her actions caused.
But no matter how many times she snapped, shooting them hard words or shrugging off their outstretched hands, they always circled back to help her if they thought she needed it. And for some reason, that makes her even angrier than before.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Kaoru had just finished speaking when Haruhi returned from the restroom. The boys all jumped up at the sight of her, save for Kyoya, who surveyed her over the rim of his coffee cup instead.
"Are you all right, Haruhi?"
"Haru-chan, does your tummy still hurt?"
"Are you feeling any better?"
Haruhi's smile was soft, and strained, and did absolutely nothing to stifle the bonfire of worry rioting around the table.
"I already told you guys, I'm fine," she said. "It's just a stomach ache, like I said. But I am tired, and it's been a really long day, so I'm going to head home." Her brow arched, and a faint glimmer of her usual humor softened her eyes. "I'm sure I'll see you guys again before the break is over."
The protests were loud, and they were instant.
"Okay, I so don't buy any of this!"
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Haru-chan, Haru-chan, you're going to leave us already?"
"Hmmm."
But suddenly Tamaki was there, sliding in front of them with the grace and flourish of a ballet dancer.
"Of course! If my dear Haruhi is tired, then gentlemen, it is only proper that we let her rest." He reached out and took her hand in his. "I know that tonight will be lonely for you, without my lovely face to look upon, but take comfort in the fact that you'll bask in its glory again sooner than you think!"
Haruhi rolled her eyes and pinched the top of Tamaki's hand with her free fingers. He yelped and let her go.
"Yeah, I'm sure I will," she said. She shook her head, and gave them all a final smile. "Goodnight, you guys." She hesitated before saying; "It was great to see all of you again."
And then she was gone, disappearing out the door and into the frigid winter night. The boys rounded on Tamaki.
"Boss, how could you let her leave like that?" Hikaru asked. "We still don't know if she's okay!"
Tamaki shook his head.
"Haruhi's stubborn, but she looked well enough to walk four blocks. She'd just get mad if we tried to escort her, and she'd push us away. I'll call Ranka in a little bit to make sure she got home all right."
The Host King dropped back into his seat. He reached out with long fingers and captured another wrist, this time with a great deal more urgency.
"Now," he said, and Kyoya's glasses flashed at the sudden seriousness in his voice. "Tell us what's really going on."
A/N: Kyoya didn't go after Haruhi...so who was he talking to? And if Haruhi hasn't been feeling well, why won't she let herself lean on the boys? Stay tuned to find out. Happy reading!
