When Haruhi first entered the club room every day after school, there was a certain amount of time that was always the same, no matter what cosplay they were doing, how late she was, or how many customers she had waiting for her. Sometimes it was thirty seconds, sometimes it was fifteen minutes, but no matter how much time it was, it was always just enough to have this thing happen. And it was always the same thing, with very little change in routine.

First of all, without exception, the very first thing that she would hear when she opened the door to the third music room was a high-pitched "Haru-chan!" Sometimes, the squeal was followed up by a tackle from Honey-senpai, but sometimes the short senior chose to stay at the table and eat cake with his silent companion and their customers. There was no particular pattern or regularity when it came to whether or not her life (and even worse, her balance) was put in danger in the first few seconds of club activities, but this was irrelevant. The importance of the situation was that Honey did, every single day, greet her with his usual, cheerful "Haru-chan!" when she first stepped in. This was absolute. Every day, she heard this before anything else when she entered the club room. Without fail.

This was a good quality in the smallest of the club members. He was reliable. Dependable. Solid. There were the off days when something about him would surprise her. His age, for example, had surprised her when she first found out that he was a senior. Before she had become so well-acquainted with the host club, if she had seen Honey-senpai, she would have placed him at about eleven years old. She had been astounded when she found out that he was a karate and judo champion. And who could forget the split second when she, Tamaki and the twins had feared for their lives after spilling tea on Honey's bun-bun? Yes, there were a few occasions when the adorable senior had surprised her. But that wasn't so much being unreliable as it was having more personality facets than Haruhi had thought to consider the possibility of him having. So, even if there were some times when he would do something strange and out of the ordinary, he was still dependable and steady. This was something that he had over his much taller cousin, who didn't even display any emotions, let alone remain consistent with them. Still, the more she thought about this good quality in Honey-senpai, the more her dishonestly untailored adjectives betrayed his unique character. Because the more she thought about him as reliable, dependable, and solid, the more she thought about him as conventional, predictable and boring.

The second thing that would happen was that either Tamaki or the twins (because they were always together at this point in time. Later on, they could separate, but in the space of time that was always exactly the same, they were still "the twins") would emerge from the depths of the third music room, shouting about one thing or another. Usually, Tamaki was angry about something that those "unscrupulous twins" had said about "his daughter", but on occasion, they changed it up. Today, (and yesterday, too, for that matter) it had been the twins that presented themselves first, trying to convince her to wear an unsurprisingly revealing outfit for their country-western cosplay. Then, Tamaki came out in a rage about the nature of the outfit they had picked out for her, and presented his own argument, and his own proposal for what she wear, which was no better than the twins' selection in terms of the amount of skin it showed. This was the third thing that happened. Whether it was the host club's King or the Hitachiin brothers that came out first, the other party would not be far behind, and would always have an opinion (and this opinion was always painfully similar to that of the first party) that they were not, by any stretch of the imagination, shy about voicing. Then they would proceed to shout at each other, completely unaware that they were arguing on the same side of the debate, and the fourth thing that would inevitably happen during this time that the same thing happened every day, was that for an indefinite period of time, Haruhi's presence was forgotten, or ignored. There was always at least a few seconds, though usually more than that, when the arguing club members (and sometimes the other three as well) would completely cease to acknowledge her presence. This was convenient. Because during this time, she had the luxury of thinking.

What she thought about varied from day to day. Her thoughts could range from the elegance of the expensively-decorated club room, to what she was having for dinner, and back again. Every so often, she even listened to the argument between the twins and Tamaki, just to amuse herself. Today, she had taken it upon herself to think about Mori, as she did more often than she'd like to think she did. Unfortunately, the next thing that happened every day no matter what, was that they would stop arguing just long enough to look at her, and say something to her, and expect her to respond. But she wouldn't have been listening, because she would have been thinking, as she was today. Luckily, though, it was usually Tamaki who spoke, and he wasn't really smart enough to say anything that required a fully-conscious response. More often than not, she could say something simple without even hearing herself saying it, and he would be off to his corner and she would have time to think some more. But today, his question caught her off-guard.

"Haruhi, why don't you want to go back to Kyoto?"

What? How had they gotten from arguing over which mini-skirt she should wear, to this? How was she supposed to answer that? It wasn't as if she could say that she was afraid of mentally reliving the day that Mori had less-than-rejected her feelings for him (even though she did that no matter where she was). There was a reason she hadn't told anybody, and she had no intention of changing her mind. So she was going to have to say Abracadabra and pull a pretty damn good lie out from behind Tamaki's ear. She had opened her mouth to blurt out the first thing that came to her mind and hope it saved her, when the club's godsend vice president chimed in from behind him.

"It doesn't matter, Tamaki. We aren't going and that's final. Changing Haruhi's mind won't change mine."

"Yeah, Tono. Get over it already."

She was saved! The smirk that Kyoya shot at her shouted its message just loudly enough that she could hear it speaking from across the room, but Tamaki, who stood right next to him, wouldn't even begin to register its hidden meaning. But no matter how hard she tried to hear "You're welcome" (even though she hadn't had the chance to thank him yet, but the preemptive response of such a nature was to be expected from Kyoya), the voice of reason whispered tauntingly in her ear.

Your debt is doubled.

And the subtle hilarity of this voice provoked a chuckle that she hadn't heard from herself all week, but it was quickly erased when she looked directly at Mori for the first time since she entered the club room that day, to find that he was looking back at her.

She quickly averted her gaze, and her eyes fell upon an area of the room that had three girls sitting around a table completely empty of club members. She wondered how long her customers had been waiting for her as she walked over to them, ignoring the background noise of Tamaki screaming his disapproval at Kyoya, Hikaru and Kaoru proceeding with their usual taunting, the customers squealing at Honey's cuteness, and Mori's deafening silence.

The last one was a little harder to ignore.

"Why aren't you wearing a costume, Haruhi?"

Oh, yeah. They'd never reached a decision on what she was going to wear. Obviously, both of the outfits that had been suggested for her were out of the question, but yesterday, Kyoya had produced an alternative. That hadn't happened today, so she hadn't changed. Oh, well. "Ah, I got here late, so I didn't have time to change." She was always late.

They didn't seem satisfied with that response, but she made no move to elaborate. She had already picked up where she left off with her thinking, and was now thinking about the twins. Each of them had already confessed to her that they loved her, so it seemed that she should really love one of them, rather than allow herself to be hung up on someone who could never love her back. And it wasn't as if either of them were bad people, either. Maybe if she thought hard enough about the good things about them, she could make herself interested in one of them. Because if they were horrible, terrible people who were just going to hurt her, she could forgive herself for wanting Mori instead. But as it was, it just seemed selfish to refuse them both when the person that she really wanted to be with refused to be with her anyway. First, there was Kaoru. He was sweet, and considerate, and protective, and really, the epitome of a good person. But the reason not to be with him was obvious. Any possibility of a relationship of him had already been destroyed when he'd told her that Hikaru was more important to him than she was. This made her doubt that he had ever truly been in love with her. He could have easily mistaken his first interaction with a non-relative female that wasn't paying to see him, for love. And then, Hikaru, who was less like his brother than many believed, was passionate and devoted, which was flattering, if nothing else. She had told him that she didn't think of him that way, and he still hadn't given up. That had to score him some points. But even though when she thought about him as a friend, there was nothing wrong with him, when she thought about him in this context, Hikaru was self-serving, mischievous, and altogether mean.

Her thoughts were, as usual, interrupted.

"It's decided then!" What? What was decided? What was Tamaki on about now? This type of thing never turned out well. "We leave for Kyoto tomorrow morning!"

"WHAT?!" she demanded, standing up from her chair in such panic that it toppled over behind her. Hikaru and Kaoru had already fallen over dejectedly by the time she thought to look to them for explanation. Kyoya, on the other hand, seemed completely calm.

As she watched him nonchalantly explain to the King that they were still not planning on going anywhere for the weekend, the relief that his words granted her allowed her to return to her thinking (which was quite selfish of her, since her customers were still waiting for her). As he spoke, remaining so calm and contained despite the frustration and annoyance he must have been feeling, it occurred to her how similar he was to Mori, on so many different levels. To begin with the obvious, they were both tall men with black hair and gray eyes. Neither of them saw any reason to speak more than necessary, which was a refreshing contrast to Tamaki and the twins. But more importantly, they were both hiding. Kyoya hid behind his glasses and his notebook and his computer and his management position, because things like that came easy to him. Because one plus one always equaled two. In an organization like the host club, there were two priorities. The first one, of course, was keeping the customers happy. That was what Mori and Honey and Hikaru and Kaoru and Tamaki were good at. Because all you had to do was sit there and look pretty. Maybe you had to dress yourself up and put on a show, or put your face up really close to a girl's and say something that sounds romantic, but really, that was all it was. They obviously had the easy job. But if you asked Kyoya, she was sure he'd tell you the opposite. She suspected that he worked with the numbers because math was an exact science, and he wasn't comfortable putting himself out there to be criticized. You could tell Honey to grow up, or say that the Hitachiin brothers were nothing without their brotherly love, and Haruhi couldn't count how many times somebody had said something offensive to Tamaki, but nobody would ever be able to tell Kyoya that one plus one did not equal two. This was what he understood, so he avoided the rest. The same way, Mori hid behind his silence. Because he could never be judged on something he said if he didn't say anything, and nobody could argue with his opinions if he didn't voice them. They were so similar. That should have meant that she could be in love with Kyoya rather than Mori. Except that Kyoya was scary. Because of lineage and intelligence, he was powerful, and he knew it, and he used it against people. That was intimidating, and she had never been intimidated by Mori.

And she looked at the man that Kyoya was talking to, and saw him the way she'd always seen him. He was empty. He was insane, and overprotective, and neurotic, and he was completely empty. The only thing that anybody saw in him was exactly what they saw. His appearance seemed to be the only thing working for him. Tamaki was, admittedly, an attractive person, but there was nothing else to him. As he walked towards her, she found herself staring into his eyes. He really did have amazing eyes. They were beautiful, so wide and shining and violet like no other eyes she'd ever seen. But she didn't care that they were beautiful. They weren't gray.

"Haruhi! You must tell Mother that you want to go back to Kyoto!"

She looked straight at him, and she looked straight through him. It dawned on her that she shouldn't be there. Without a word, she opened the door and left the club room and abandoned her customers and her responsibilities and her friends. She didn't want to be there, where he could torture her with his silence yet speak louder than anybody else, and where people would talk to her and expect her to be able to answer, as if she wasn't being murdered slowly from the inside out. Maybe she could come back on Monday, after she had thought about what she could do now. Because she'd never taken the time to consider how to move forward. She'd been convinced ever since last weekend, that she was going to have to stand still and watch her life fly past her, because it wasn't worth moving on with it if he wasn't going to be a part of it.

But despite her will to figure out a way to live without him, she found herself drifting away from the seconds and the minutes and the hours, losing herself in a world where she could love somebody who would love her back, and Tamaki's eyes could be gray. Even as he held her shoulders and gazed so pleadingly into her eyes, she found it difficult to register his presence at all. Because it didn't matter if he was there or not. Because even if he was there, he was still empty. They all were. It was amazing how they could be so deep and intriguing and unique and interesting, and to her, still so irrelevant. Because it didn't matter whether they had good qualities or bad qualities, or how they felt about her or what they did. It didn't matter how smart Kyoya was. It didn't matter how beautiful Tamaki was. It didn't matter how much the twins loved her, and it didn't matter that Honey was steadfast and reliable. None of them mattered to her. Not the way he did.