The next day, Haruhi returned to the Host Club feeling far more refreshed. Kyoya, eagle-eyed as ever, noticed the difference immediately. She could tell the bespectacled boy was pleased by the way he allowed Tamaki to cajole him into the two of them Hosting together.

And, for all that he complained about the blond, he did enjoy it.

Kyoya, she realised, with a fond shake of her head, was just as much as a dork as the rest of them.

Hosting hours ended as they always did, with tears from the girls, and sweet nothings from the Hosts, promises of further meetings galore. The twins didn't bother her; they sat tucked up in the corner, distracted by a new game. Tamaki, surprisingly, didn't bother her either. She was in a good enough mood to settle down with Honey and Mori, eating a slice of cake the blond boy offered.

Kyoya, for once, wasn't on his laptop. Tamaki had dragged him over to the low table, where they sat on the floor (Kyoya Ootori lowering himself to the standards of a commoner? The world must be ending!) searching for ideas for Host Club's next cosplay.

"Do you like it, Haru-chan?"

Haruhi mentally wondered how someone's eyes could be so huge. It was somewhat unsettling, especially when her little blond senpai bounced up and down, almost literal stars shining in them. Equally unsettling was the utterly apathetic stare of his precious Usa-chan.

Sometimes she felt like that stuffed rabbit could stare straight through her soul.

"Mhm, it's pretty good. I don't think we've tried this before."

Honey clapped his hands together, pleased with her answer. Wait... were those actual cherry blossoms surrounding his head? Weird. "Kyo-chan said it was a new recipe! I think we should get this cake all the time, right, Takashi?"

Stoic as ever, Mori nodded around a mouthful of cake. "Yeah."

Tamaki, she noticed, had been staring at one picture for an alarmingly long time. Being particularly energetic (read: insufferable) today, this was quite a drastic change. His head snapped up with ferocity that had her scrambling to dial the number of an exorcist.

"Hey." He said, voice raised to catch everyone's attention. There was a smug glint in his eyes. "Wanna hear a joke?"

"Not really." Hikaru replied, in a bored tone.

Tamaki glared in his direction. "Hikaru! This joke is the most wonderful one in existence, crafted for the pure joy of amusement, intended to be shared among friends—"

He continued on this spiel for a while, until Kyoya shoved a hand over his mouth, without even looking up from his page-flipping. "Just tell the joke, Tamaki."

"Alright, fine. Prepare yourself!" He demanded, dramatically. Only Honey was actively paying attention. "Which country has the most birds?"

Silence.

Had this been any other day, the twins would have jumped to steal his thunder, but, thank heavens, they were still distracted. "Portugeese!"

Crickets chirped in the distance.

A tumbleweed languidly made its way across the centre of the room.

From beside the boy, Kyoya gave a deep sigh as he questioned his choice in friends. "That's a language."

"Wow, Boss," Kaoru snickered. "Are you that stupid?"

"How could you not know that?" Hikaru said, grinning evilly.

"I did!" Tamaki spluttered, flushing bright red. "Be quiet, you devil twins!"

Behind their hands, the twins started muttering. "Kaoru, did you hear? The Boss didn't even know Portuguese was a language. You'd think someone who was second best in their class would at least know that. How stupid can you get? Boss really is a good-for-nothing poser." All the while, Tamaki was struck by invisible arrows, whimpering at each strike.

"Hm, what about Portugull!" Honey suggested, holding his fork aloft.

"Nice recovery." Mori said, patting the blond's head. Honey beamed at the praise.

Hikaru, from where he was draped over his brother, smirked. "Don't you mean redovery?"

Haruhi pinched the bridge of her nose. "Turkey." All heads swivelled to her. "How did you miss Turkey?"

She was 99.9 percent certain that Kyoya ducked behind some magazines because he started laughing and didn't want to get caught.

Still, relaxed and content as she was, Haruhi had work to do. She left an hour later than normal, somewhat regretful that she couldn't have stayed longer.

Even the crowded train carriage couldn't dampen her spirits, noisy and uncomfortable as it was. What could, on the other hand, was catching sight of something out of the corner of her eye. Or, more accurately, someone. She could see him through a gap in the crowd, and even though his body was angled away from her, gazing off into the other direction, she knew it was him.

The Stalker.

She missed her step and almost tumbled head first down two flights to the ground. Only grasping wildly for the handrail saved her from certain death.

He hadn't spotted her—

Was what she had hoped.

But no, apparently she couldn't have nice things.

The universe had seized her hope and crushed it beneath its foot, utterly merciless. For a moment suspended in an eternity, there was nothing. And then recognition lit up his face in a way that would have been sweet, had he not been a complete stranger.

Her throat constricted, feet skirting backwards.

Seemingly on auto-pilot, Haruhi began pushing her way outside. From behind there was a noise, garbled and distorted, but sounding suspiciously similar to a desperate shout of "Wait!"

She didn't wait.

Once free of the confined walls, she kicked into a hurried run. It was exhausting, but she ran the entire way home, where a very familiar car was pulled up outside her apartment, a blond mop of hair exiting said car and— of course, just what she needed, a surprise visit from Tamaki.

Joy.

She stared dubiously at a puddle of water, wondering whether it was deep enough to drown herself.

Alas, she was spotted before she could test it out.

"Tamaki-senpai, what are you doing here?" She tried to sound annoyed, but it was hard to sound like anything other than utterly dead when someone as unfit as her had been running for so long.

"You left your revision notes in the clubroom." He handed them to her, thankfully without his usual eccentrics.

"Oh. Thank you."

After a beat, his smile consumed his entire face. "That was really cool of me, right?" There it was. Why did she have to jinx herself? "Of course, an act like this is child's play to me. Maybe I was an angel in my past life, that could be the only explanation. So beautiful and so generous, it's both a blessing and a curse." He struck several dramatic poses. "Well, Haruhi? You're not falling for me, are you?"

She managed a breathy laugh. "Hardly."

Blue eyes finally took the time to assess her condition and fully absorb the fact that she was a total mess. "Hey… Are you alright?"

"M'fine. Just ran a lot."

He looked even more concerned. "Why?"

Because Haruhi didn't run for anything short of death.

Unless it was for food.

Food meant more to her than some people's lives.

For a grand total of half a second, Haruhi froze. Then, with the straightest face she'd ever made, she lied, "There's a sale on at the supermarket. I don't want to miss it, so I have to be quick."

He fell for it hook, line and sinker.

She almost felt bad.

Almost.

Deep down, she couldn't help but wonder how much of a glutton the Host Club thought she was. Though, that was a problem for another day.

After ushering him away, which took patience and energy she probably stole from some other unfortunate soul, (because there was no way she could manage that feat in her half-alive state), she went inside and immediately locked the door behind her.

Head tilted up to the ceiling, she took several deep, calming breaths.

Kyoya had explicitly told her to call should anything happen. Only, she reasoned, nothing technically did happen. She spotted him, got spooked, and ran away like a scared child. Hardly a life-threatening situation. Would that really classify as an incident worth bothering Kyoya over? Sure it would be different if the man had approached, or even put his hands on her. But he hadn't done either of those things, and standing in a train station wasn't exactly a crime.

Still, the dread curling in her stomach was rather hard to ignore. Not being one to dismiss her instincts, Haruhi relented and called the boy, hurriedly explaining the situation.

He arrived in record time, possibly breaking every speed limit in existence, though she couldn't find it in herself to care. He was rich, the rules didn't apply to him. (Which was all good and dandy for her to think, but she knew, deep down, if he ever uttered those words to her, she was sure she'd plunge the nearest butter knife straight into his chest. Thankfully, Kyoya had enough self-preservation and modesty not to).

"Senpai, I told you, it was probably nothing."

"Since he doesn't live or work on this side of town, I assure you, you're wrong."

"Come on, he didn't even—" Haruhi blinked, her surprise at this implication drowning out her annoyance at his maddening superiority. "Wait… Have you already figured out who he is?"

"Naturally." Kyoya scoffed, already thumbing through his notebook. "Here we are. Takeda Hirose, forty five. No outstanding medical conditions. Current address and phone numbers were both easily acquired. Bereft of his spouse, Takeda Naomi, having ended her life ten years ago after the stillbirth of their first and only child. According to my research, he works for a fairly profitable IT company. A model worker, apparently. Hopefully if I dig a little deeper I'll find some information more relevant to us."

He snapped the book shut and she gave a low whistle. "That's quite impressive."

The bespectacled boy shrugged with a certain arrogance that was more endearing than frustrating. "Anything less would be shameful."

Strange as it was, Haruhi found that his presence comforted her immensely. Her stomach had been turning in painful knots, yet in a few brief moments, the writhing mess had settled eerily quickly.

Together, they sat and talked and they drank so much tea they could've been in England for all she knew, and Kyoya helped her with her school work, even if she didn't really need it.

When the time came to start the preparations for dinner, he offered to help her. Partly because he must have felt awkward conversing through the doorway and partly because he knew it was the polite thing to do. That help consisted of retrieving everything off high shelves, which saved Haruhi from having to climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get it herself.

She didn't trust him in the kitchen yet.

Considering the last time someone had offered to help, the Twins had almost burnt her kitchen down, he couldn't blame her. Thankfully Mori was a housefire's worst nightmare, managing to douse the flames before the situation could become too dire.

All in all, it turned out well.

As they ate, they made easy conversation. Kyoya had even laughed at some points, actual sincere laughter, completely unrestrained.

She considered calling an exorcist to remove whatever spirit had obviously possessed him, until he threatened to increase her debt, at which point she knew he was the true Kyoya Ootori, for only he could look that menacing while a single strand of noodle hung out the corner of his mouth.

When her father finally arrived home, the two of them were reading in what had previously been the living room, but now resembled a nest, with the number of pillows and blankets they had dragged in there. They left him to eat in peace, before starting the Serious Talk™.

Haruhi soon realised the conversation wasn't going anywhere, because Ranka was terrible at trying to hide how furious he was, and Kyoya was clearly plotting murder. Sure, she wouldn't exactly care if the stalker disappeared off the face of the Earth, but that was not their current objective.

In the end, they decided on three things:

One, they needed to install more secure locks.

Two; Ranka would try to change his shifts so he returned home earlier.

And Three: Haruhi was to call if she was ever in trouble. Even for something she viewed as insignificant. Even for something as simple as a bad feeling. Her father drilled that into her, and while Kyoya didn't say anything, his blazing eyes showed that he agreed with every word.

Before he left, Kyoya helped her clean up the mess, and gave them Tachibana's number Just In Case.

Haruhi thanked him again.

His smile was bittersweet.

He didn't say anytime. That felt like so long ago, when everything wasn't so messed up. It would've felt wrong to repeat it, so instead he said, "I'm always a call away."

She nodded.

His hand clapped on her shoulder, a comforting motion. "It'll be over soon."

It was an unspoken promise. This was Kyoya Ootori, and out of everyone, he could make those words a reality. She smiled back, and then he was gone, their goodbyes lingering in the air.

Soon after, Kyoya began the game of, "Let me know whether you got home safe, because I'm a paranoid fuck and will scare your neighbours shitless by having my police force show up fully geared on your doorstep to make sure you're not dead in a ditch somewhere".

So far, Haruhi had only lost once.

Far from being a pleasant experience, the girl was eager not to have a repeat any time soon.

They both were on high alert for the next week or so. Haruhi immediately put him on speed dial. On Wednesday, they talked over the phone the entire way back to her apartment, her nerves going haywire. She was at his house for most of the weekend, studying. He was a big help with getting her workload under control. But as each day dragged passed and they found no signs of him, the two started to relax.

Although, that didn't mean she was allowed to skip the customary; Appease you mammary glands, Kyoya-senpai. I'm home, all limbs attached message. Not that she wanted to, either. Their back and forth ribbing had become something both teens enjoyed greatly, and was probably the main thing their increasing bond was built upon.

With all this considered, when Haruhi arrived at the Host Club for their weekly meeting the following Wednesday, she didn't exactly expect to be walking into a warzone.

"What the Hell?"

"My thoughts exactly." Kyoya was sitting on the windowsill, watching as the carnage unfolded directly in front of him.

"Why are you—"

"I refuse to sit in that disaster zone." Haruhi blinked cluelessly for a further couple of seconds. He maintained casual eye contact, before gesturing towards the table at her side. "Could you pass me my phone?"

With a roll of her eyes at his laziness, she did as he asked, then gave him a little nudge. "Move up." He did, scooting to make room for her to join him. It was a bit of a squeeze, but they had far more important things to worry about. "Why's Tamaki-senpai acting crazier than usual?"

She asked, since maniacally waving your arms around and spouting some strange language of your own creation isn't generally a social norm. But, then again, what did she know?

"Apparently he's having another crisis."

There was no further explanation needed.

"Great." She replied, in her trademark 'not really' voice.

Tamaki had transitioned to sobbing helplessly in the corner, white and listless. The twins, ever helpful, were poking him with a cane. Where they found it was beyond her, but nonetheless, it had been dubbed their Jabbing Stick™ and was put to use immediately.

"Everybody seems to be having a midlife crisis at sixteen."

"Since I don't know which time of my life is the middle, I've decided to have an ongoing crisis." That pretty much summed up her current situation. Kyoya almost choked on his water. Haruhi herself was leaning as far back as she could, right out of the splash zone. "Don't die. You are literally the only bearable person around here."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Haruhi considered this for a moment, before shaking her head. "I take it back. Mori-senpai is far better."

He decided to humour her. "And why is that?"

"He basically never talks."

"Touché."

More commotion. The two turned their attention back to the now wailing Host Club King. "Hold on. Is that… paint? Why on Earth is Senpai covered in paint?"

"Neon pink paint, to be precise. You've only just noticed? Why, I expected you to be a tad more observant than that."

"I usually tune him out when he's acting like this, it's not worth getting a headache over…" A sigh. "I'm guessing it was the twins. Bucket of paint on the door, right?"

He confirmed this with a nod. "Another one of their pranks. I'm actually impressed with how swiftly it was executed; they managed to do it while I was busy in the back room. Naturally, I made them clear up the mess on the floor, but Tamaki is an entirely different story."

Tamaki, curled in the fetal position, was rolling furiously across the floor.

Haruhi and Kyoya both stared at him, deadpan, as he continued to wail.

"What is he even saying?"

The bespectacled boy heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I imagine it's something to do with that mess making you lose respect for him."

"I had respect for him in the first place?"

"Evidently so."

Haruhi rolled her eyes. She seemed to be constantly doing that around the hosts. Regardless, she distracted herself by playing with her phone.

"You're texting?"

Kyoya was leaning curiously over her shoulder.

"Yeah, Mei. She says hi, by the way."

"No distractions during Club hours. Also return the pleasantries for me."

Haruhi mumbled something about bipolar senpais, but did so nonetheless, biting back her retort that he wasn't one to talk considering he practically had his laptop shoved up his ass 24/7.

After Tamaki had finally managed to drag himself to the showers and return with a fresh uniform, their weekly meeting went underway. As usual, nothing of much worth was said. For the most part, Kyoya ignored them all in favour of doing whatever he did on his laptop. Tamaki came up with hair-brained schemes that were almost unanimously vetoed, Haruhi tried not to be suffocated by the three main glompers, the twins plotted, Honey ate cake, Usa-Chan was rocking it, and Mori sat there.

Just.

Sat there.

In silence.

Like he usually did.

Nothing new there.

In the end, they packed up with some new ideas and headed off home. Kyoya dropped Haruhi off at the station, where she thankfully didn't run into He Who Must Not Be Named.

No, not Voldemort.

The Stalker.

She hoped this was a sign that he had stopped his stalking ways and decided to become an honest member of society. Of course, at that point, the universe laughed and said, "Haha, yeah right, fuck you."

A/N: And I'm back with another chapter. Due to my impulsiveness with the previous update, this technically hasn't been a two-week waiting period, but this will be corrected with the next update. Hopefully.

I'd like to thank everyone who supported the last chapter, seeing the reviews/ favourites/ follows really does help to brighten my day, and it really helps to know what you guys like/ dislike.

silverstrange1031: I'm happy you noticed! I really wanted to emphasize the fact that the two of them had grown closer, and were now comfortable enough that taking the piss out of each other was mutually allowed between the two of them. The text exchange part was the most fun to write, so I'm glad you liked it.

Again, feel free to comment anything you might like to see added. I have a basic storyline plotted out, so some might not be able to be worked into the plot, but there are several vague chapters that are lacking linking ideas, so you never know.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Side note: I've been re-reading/ re-watching Ouran lately, and have decided that Kyoya and his Soft Smiles™ must be protected.