Click. Click. Click.

The sounds of the clock seemed to ring through the sound of silence and Haruhi seemed to focus directly on it. This seemed to be a trend lately; hyperfixation to the point of not being able to breathe without the sound permeating her mind. Consciously, she knew that the woman sitting across from her was well aware of what she was doing to avoid their session, but part of her cared very little. The clock was always something consistent. It wasn't prodding questions out, or making her truly sit back and reflect on her week. No, it was just a clock. A steady tap against the back of a clipboard brought her back into the reality of her situation, and she looked up to see her therapist rapping softly against the wooden board. All remained silent while they held each other's gaze, and Dr. Ito was the first to speak.

"Haru, I'm not quite sure why you keep booking me when you will just stare at my wall decor for the entire session". Her voice was light and humorous, able to drive the point home without seeming accusatory. Haruhi grimaced at the use of the nickname; it'd been years since anybody had called her by that name, but Naomi Ito didn't seem bothered by her patient's reaction. To her, this was just another form of desensitization, a hierarchy of fear that she was slowly unraveling in the life of the dark haired woman that she had now been counseling for almost 7 months. Sometimes, they talked like friends. Others, Haruhi simply answered in monotone a "yes" or "no" when Dr. Ito prodded into her life, trying to unravel who she was at her core. It had been like this since she first booked a consultation.

Haruhi leaned forward, pinching the bridge of her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut. This week had been a shitshow, and she knew that it would be too much to unload in their block of 60 minutes. She willed herself to run through her week, the snide remarks from her co-workers, breaking a casserole dish as she pulled it out of the oven, TV breaking. All of these were minor occurrences,but at the time, they were like the world crashing around her. No, she had one event that she could deem worthy of a session. Opening large honey colored eyes, she rolled her neck back and stared at the ceilings of the room. After a few moments of gathering her thoughts, willing her voice to remain neutral, she spoke. "My father called me yesterday."

Dr. Ito either was not phased by this, or simply didn't show it. Haruhi could hear the scratch of the pen against the clipboard, notes that she didn't care to think about. "How did that go?". Her brain seemed to snap back to reality, and she answered in a clipped tone, "As well as it could. There's not much to talk about these days, if you haven't noticed". Years ago, she wouldn't have dared snap back with a retort, much less to the woman who was supposed to be helping her heal. Now, it was like she was throwing her defences in the form of offense. The taller, raven-haired woman sitting across from her gave a small smile. "You are completely valid to feel the way you do. I recognize that, and it is progress". Ever so positive. The validation did nothing to quell her impatience and irritation. "He's as fine as he can be. They restocked the commissary and he has been able to work a little bit and get his shrimp snacks. The other inmates still harass him."

For the remaining 15 minutes of the session, Dr. Ito asked questions fluidly. "Have you been taking your medication?". "Are you drinking enough water?". "Have you been practicing our exercises?". Haruhi responded just as she had earlier, rattling off answers without properly thinking about them. Of course she hadn't been practicing the exercises. There was virtually no time to, she thought to herself. Alagon Technology had just released a new set of products, a line of laptops she hadn't even bothered to use herself. No, crunching numbers, directing people to where they needed to be, those were activities that consumed her days. Not breathing in a rectangle. The small egg timer on the therapist's table dinged, and Haruhi quickly gathered her belongings. She dipped her head, agreeing to another session for the following Thursday before making the trek back to her car.

The drive back to her condo was one she knew by heart. She had lived there for two years already, and finding her way back was like working on auto pilot. By the time she had parked and gathered her belongings, she was bone weary and almost did not notice the postcard and letter that were waiting for her under the door frame. The slender woman silently thanked her mailman, who had continued to deliver the letters that had been forwarded to her new address after the move. She nearly stepped on both of them, and seeing the card signed by Tamaki Suoh prompted her to set it neatly on the growing stack of unread cards that had been seated on her counter. This was not an avenue she wanted to go down tonight, not one that she had the energy to even think about. A meow seemed to shake her from her disassociation, and the fat orange tabby she had found behind the building wove between her legs, begging for her attention. She gave Jones, as she affectionately called him, a quick scratch behind the ear. Haruhi retrieved a glass from the cabinet, pouring herself a glass of Penfolds Grange. She kicked off her heels, settling into the couch and staring down at the second envelope. She knew the Ouran High School seal like the back of her hand, though it still took minutes to process it.

"You are formally invited to the five year class reunion of Ouran High School, Wednesday the 22nd at 7pm."

Slender fingers ran across the ivory edges of the letter, blankly taking in the texture alone. The gold emblem was almost offensive in the center of it. It took several tries to read over the words, and even longer to ponder why the hell a highschool was hosting a five year reunion. Rich people, she thought to herself. Any excuse to dress up and flaunt generational wealth. The remainder of the night passed at a painstaking pace, the steady refilling of the wine glass seemed to do little to speed up this process. There was logically little reason to attend this reunion; she hadn't spoken with the club in a little over 3 years, and even her brief correspondence had left her on edge. A tiny part of her did yearn to revisit the familiar halls. Maybe this could be a good thing. Maybe it could be the worst mistake of her young adult life. Maybe it was time for her to fall asleep on the couch, succumbing to a dreamless sleep with the purring cat nestled underneath her chin.

It took several days for Haruhi to convince herself to attend this event, and when Wednesday loomed over her that week, she had made her decision. Slipping on a dark magenta dress, she clasped the earrings into her ears and gazed back at her reflection. "Get over yourself," she told her reflection, which stared back at her with a wild expression. Even after all these years, she was not one to fixate on appearance too long. The dress was simply a formality, one she had bought during a work conference earlier this year. Pinning back her short cropped her, she thought to herself. This is happening. It took approximately 23 minutes for the cab to arrive at her building, and 46 minutes to pull through the golden gates of her former high school. Everything seemed so familiar; the topiary, the arches of the building, all of it. Tousling her previously neat dark hair, Haruhi climbed the stairs of the school and quickly found her way to the banquet hall. The number of students was shocking, and she seemed to blend in fine with exception of the occasional whisper and glance her way.

The champagne being passed throughout the crowd dulled her nerves slightly, and the occasional chit-chat with former classmates seemed almost normal. They discussed work, and when the conversation steered to how she suppressed her gender within the host club for so long, she diverted it back to mundane small talk. Excusing herself, Haruhi weaved her way out of the crowd, leaning against the back wall and allowing her brain to focus on singular sounds; clinking of glasses, laughs in regards to past experiences, anything but the rising regret that filled her chest. On the table to her right, there were 32 ornate honey cakes (minus the two a giggling former classmate snatched as she danced by). To the table to her left, two men chatted in a heated conversation, and though she couldn't catch the words, she knew that it was a competition of barely stifled bragging. Lost in her thought, she didn't notice the tall blond man padding in her direction, and barely registered the soft "Haru?" that left his lips.

Tamaki Suoh stood before her, and he hadn't changed one bit. The same shocked expression that he wore was one she had seen before when he found out she was not a young man. The same cornsilk hair. It took only a few seconds before he was pulling her towards his chest, body shaking slightly as he held her close. Her body stiffened, and she fought the urge to flee as her heart rate elevated. She couldn't will herself to speak, only gently push him back from his embrace. "It's been a long time," was all that she could muster before she saw the familiar faces of her past host members begin to close in on her. Coming was definitely a mistake, and one she couldn't flee from no matter how hard she wanted to.

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Hello all! I'm new to the world of Fanfiction and a veteran writer. Its been a hot minute since I've watched Ouran, but quarantine will do that to you! Please be gentle with me :) I'll be trying to update this story frequently, so let me know in comments how quickly you guys would like chapters posted (2 and 3 are already finished).

- Eleanor