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ellssbellss · 6 days

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(NEW!) Lavender Roses ~ (Kyoya Ootori x F!Reader)

pairing ~ Kyoya Ootori x Reader

In which a rational head hides a generous heart, but you have always known how to see past his walls and help him bloom into the gorgeous rose he is. Enjoy a slow burn between an honor student and our beloved glasses character!

-> summary: Frowning, Kyoya flipped onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow and draping the covers over his head. He can take anger from anyone else, even his parents. Even Tamaki, who always found that Kyoya had been right, in the end. But you. You were mad at him.

-> word count: 20.7k

legend:

(n/l) - native language

(j/c) - jewelry color

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A Day In The Life Of The Fujioka Family!

The sound of your breath entering your lungs has never been more deafening. But you force yourself to focus on it, ignoring the frantic rhythm of your heart or the sweat on your brow. The rush of a deep breath in, deep breath out is all you need to hear as you surge forward, your fist echoing as it impacts with leather.

“Again.”

(E/c) eyes flicking up to brown ones, you plead. “But–”

“Again.”

Jaw clenching, you force yourself to refocus. A grunt pushes against your throat as you jab again, but the bag barely moves.

“You’re hesitating.” Black hair peaks from behind the hanging punching bag, and Mori’s mouth shifts into a serious line. “Follow through with your shoulder.”

“I am.” You huff, throwing your hands up in an exasperated movement. “I’m just not strong enough to push it back.”

Mori levels you with his glance and you roll your eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t say dumb shit.” He retorts, and you twist your mouth. You’ve never heard Morinosuka cuss before until you started training with him. It seems that he likes to let loose a little when he is working out.

“I thought you had to be respectful in a dojo.” Squaring your shoulders, you bring your fists back to your sides, falling into a natural stance. You direct your attention back to the bag that hangs from the serene, wooden ceilings. “Isn’t there a rule where you can’t cuss?”

“I own the dojo, (Y/n).” Mori readjusts behind the bag, bracing it. “Go again.”

Sucking air through your teeth, you hold it as you jab again, this time leaning your entire body into the punch. You let the breath out as you connect with the bag, but instead of backing away instantly, you let your fist sink into the leather. It makes a smacking sound, and the bag is pushed slightly backward on its chain.

Throwing up your bruised fists, you cheer, the sound echoing off the Hinoki walls. Your chest huffs, your shoulders are pulsating, but you feel so powerful. It was freeing.

An appreciative hum resonates from the leather bag, and Mori shifts away from it again. “That’s better.”

“That was so good, (N/n)-chan!”

You bring your gaze to the mat on your right, Honey-senpai sparring a man that looked to be thrice his size. Muscles bulged from under his gi, veins rising from under his pale skin. Both fighters were huffing, but Honey managed to throw you a thumbs up before facing his opponent once more.

Honey crouched down slightly, dirty-blonde bangs covering his milk chocolate eyes, but his smile only grew. The man in front of the third-year winced, and you scoffed at his expression.

“You know,” You whisper to Mori as tension fills the space. “I’ve never seen a man with that kind of physique be so close to shitting his pants.”

The stoic nodded his head, chuckling like he knew exactly what you meant. He passed over your water bottle, and you both took a break to watch the battle of strength.

The match was over before you could even undo the cap.

Honey surged forward, pushing off the balls of his feet to get behind the man who had barely taken his first step. The boy-lolita swung a kick into the man’s lower back, making the Hulk arch his spine. With that arch, Honey grabbed the man’s hand that had come around to support the area that was injured and flipped him over his shoulder, taking the shape of curved brush of paint on a canvas.

The Hulk landed flat onto his back with a gasp, lungs being forced to lose his breath as he wheezes.

Previously a menacing silhouette, Honey raises his head, unceremoniously shaking his bangs from his face. A bright smile contradicts his opponent's grimace, and he thrusts his hand out for the man to grasp. The Hulk is brought to his feet, huffing and wincing, and Honey looks at him with gleaming eyes.

“Thank you so much.” He says with a bow, cute and short. “You were a worthy opponent, Botan-senpai.”

The Hulk-, you mean Botan, just nods. There isn’t remorse on his face when he shakes hands with the young martial arts master, however. Just respect and wonder dancing in his irises. He steps off the mat, limping from the power of being thrown around like a rag doll. You give him a sympathetic look before your gaze is being caught by Honey’s and he reaches his hand out.

“You ready, (N/n)-chan?”

Oh. Shit.

“I don’t think–” Before you can find an excuse to keep yourself off of that mat of death, Mori is pushing you forward by the small of your back.

“You won’t get better if you don’t practice.” The stoic reminds you, and you just scoff.

“Yeah, but I can’t get better if I die right here.”

Honey-senpai just smiles, bright and ignorant, as if he doesn’t know the amount of fear he can instill into those who oppose him. “Don’t worry, (N/n)-chan, I’ll go easy on you.”

A worried chuckle bursts from your lips. “See, what do you mean by easy? Because my understanding of ‘easy’ could be very different from yours.”

“Ready?” You hear Mori’s voice begin to countdown the match, and Honey hunches forward again, giving you a proud smirk. Okay, maybe he does realize how menacing he can be.

Your feet sink into the padding of the mat. “Wait, wait, can I at least get a head start? Give me a minute to get comfortable with the moves.”

“No time. Set…” Mori says, and you can hear him trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.

The world around you begins to blur. “Oh god. If I die, tell Tama that he can have my hoodies. And tell those twins to stay out of my wardrobe! I don’t want them pulling off my outfits better than I can.” You scramble yourself into a fighting stance, as if that would give you a chance.

“Go!” Mori’s voice rings throughout the dojo, and you tense as a blur of white gold and honey sweeps you off your feet. Grunting, your back hits the mat with a smack, your face frozen in amazement and shock.

But you’re still breathing, and your heart continues to beat with the adrenaline of facing Honey-senpai.

“I’m alive.” It comes out as a surprised whisper, but then you shoot your fists in the air. “Ha, I’m alive!”

Honey and Mori come to stand over you, a smile full of teeth from the boy-lolita while Mori just shakes his head.

“Of course you’re alive, silly!” Honey cheers as Mori helps you back onto your feet. “I don’t hurt my friends.”

“Awe, I know, Senpai.” You smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “You’re still terrifying when you want to be.”

He hugs you around your waist, his chin resting on your hip as he looks up at you. “But not too scary, right?”

You just laugh, returning the hug. “Not at all.”

Feeling a large hand clap the back of your shoulder, you turn in your hug to see the tall host with the corners of his mouth lifted. “You did well.”

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “Um, no. I’m pretty sure I just got knocked onto my ass.”

“But you tried to protect yourself, (N/n)-chan!” Honey compliments from closer to the ground. “Before we started, you brought your fists up to protect your face, like this!” With a determined smile, he demonstrates a defensive stance, eyes wide and glowing. “You’re learning!”

“But I didn’t even mean to do that.”

“Good.” Mori says, and the three of you walk to the cubbies lined along one of the intricate walls. “That means it’s instinct.”

“A really good instinct! The first thing about learning how to fight, (N/n)-chan, is learning how to protect yourself first.” The martial arts master put his hands on his hips, looking up at you with all the pride and love in the world.

“Protecting myself first, huh?” Moving to your own cubby, you reached into your workout bag, pulling out a towel to dry the sweat off your face.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt this good. Wrapping the cloth around the back of your neck, you realize that you’re smiling even as you huff out breaths. Your heart is drumming in your chest not because of anxiety, not because of a boy, but because of your own progress and work. It felt rewarding.

Of course, you missed the different kind of way your heart would skip a beat at the smallest of touches from your director, or the warmth you felt when he gave you praise. The comfort of working so well with someone, or being okay and understanding with anything you do.

Except, Kyoya wasn’t okay with anything you did. Or understanding. Not at the end.

Sighing, you brought the towel around the back of your neck. It was…interesting now, between the two of you. Since you both agreed to be civil, you were back to working together smoothly. Late night study sessions weren’t as frequent, but at least they were constant. And that was okay.

It was okay because you realized that you shouldn’t have to push someone to be that warmth for you, that comfort. Kyoya wanted to be that for someone else, and while it hurt, it was just something you were going to have to accept. Your families were still important to each other, and you both were still incredibly devoted to the host club, so you didn’t have to worry about not being in each other’s lives. But you were grateful, in the end.

Why did he have to be that source for you, of all people? Why couldn’t you find that somewhere else? Or maybe even be that for yourself? That’s why you were doing this. Training with Mori and Honey, going to coffee with Arai, focusing on your school work. If the people around you didn’t want to support you in those certain aspects, then you would do it yourself. Like you always have.

Even if he was a dick about it, he gave you a chance to recapture your independence with fervor. And it gave you a new mission.

Picking up your phone, you ignore a text from Arai telling you about a club he was going to tonight and reply to an unread message from Haruhi.

Loml <3: Hey, is there anything specific you want for tonight? My dad wants to know which tea you like so he can make it before he leaves for work.

Smiling, you type away, picturing Haruhi’s dad, Ranka, flailing around with worry over the many bags of tea in his cabinet.

You: hey! just got finished at the dojo. i’m pretty easy, whatever you choose! Tell Ranka anything is fine!

Loml <3: Cool, no rush. Just let me know when you’re on your way. I’ll meet you outside.

You: will do. :)

“Alright, boys.” Clicking your phone off, you lug your bag onto your shoulder. “I have to go. Thanks for kicking me into shape.”

“Where are you going, (N/n)-chan?” Honey looks up, frowning slightly. “You don’t want to stay for cake?”

Chuckling, you ruffle his hair again. “Not this time. I’ll share one with you after this weekend is over.”

Immediately, his frown flipped into a smile. “Okay! Thanks for training with us today!”

You hum, appreciative and warm. “Thank you for finally getting me out of bed.”

“It was hard.” Mori grumbles, which morphs your hum into another laugh. Mori barely moves when you playfully punch him in the shoulder, only lifting his lips in a smirk.

“That’s going to hurt one day, I promise you.”

“Not if you don’t follow through.”

“Yeah, yeah, so wise.” Taking a deep breath, they walk you to the door way. “Seriously, though. It was nice to get rid of some pent up energy. Thanks.”

Mori just nods while Honey clasps his hands together, beaming up at you. “Of course, (N/n)-chan. You know you’re always welcome here.”

A warm beam of emotion rushes from his smile into your bloodstream, and you sigh. “I do know that.” Waving a hand, you turn and make your way to your driver parked outside. “I’ll see you both here next week!”

After a salute from Mori and an excited motion from Honey, you step into your car. The Lexus drives away from the warmth of your family and to the emptiness of that house. But that was fine. This weekend, at least, you wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Day turned into night, the sky creating a canvas above your vast house. Packing your overnight bag reignited your nerves about tonight, but taking a shower calmed them. Sitting in your car once more, you sunk into the leather seats as you watched the scenery blur into a series of blues and greens.

When Haruhi suggested a sleepover, you had to swallow the anxiety in your stomach. You knew that she was trying to make up for lost time, and she – ever the instigator – came up with the idea that the two of you should have a good, old fashioned slumber party. It was a bit extroverted for Haruhi, which surprised you, but it sounded like she had spent plenty of time trying to build up her confidence to ask you, so there was no way you could say no.

Placing your head into your hand and leaning up against the railing, you realize that you didn’t want to say no. Haruhi has become your closest friend in the past couple of months, and you kick yourself for shutting her out at your time of need. Of course she sensed you were distressed, this is Haruhi. The most observant, blunt, humble woman you knew. Not only is she a thoughtful friend, but her maternal instincts for the people close to her are unparalleled and will not be defeated by a little bit of drama.

But with that maternal instinct came questions. Questions you knew were going to be asked tonight. Questions you weren’t sure how to answer.

“No, no.” You shook your head, sighing and leaning farther into your seat. “This is the perfect time to tell her. Tell her I saw them together, and then tell her it’s fine. She can have him.”

With every syllable, your gut twisted, but your mind stayed vigilant. “They want each other, and Haruhi deserves that, right?” You whispered to yourself. “She deserves to get what she wants, after everything she does for us.”

Your heart still pounded at any image of Kyoya and Haruhi together, but your mind intervened once more, bolting hard steel walls on the inside of your chest to deafen the sound.

“He doesn’t want you, he wants her. She can have him.” Another shuttering breath. “Not like I’m letting her have him, of course, she is her own woman and can get what she needs without anyone's help. It’s fine.”

Biting your lip, you suck on the skin for a moment before letting it go, trying to push away the bad habit. “So, when she asks, it’ll be fine. Because they’re good for each other, and they’ll be happy. That’s what you want, right?” Clenching your jaw, your throat tightens before releasing. “I want them to be happy.”

“Miss (L/n)?”

Shocking out of your trance, you meet the eyes of your driver in the rearview mirror. Stuttering, you put yourself back into a normal person state of mind, adjusting your posture. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?” Your driver’s eyes are inviting, green sinking into (e/c).

Clearing your throat, you give her a smile. “I am. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Are you sure? Because your phone has been ringing for the past minute.” She says, and her eyes dart to your right.

Eyebrows creasing, you manage to finally process the sound of your phone ringing and vibrating on the seat next to you. Laughing meekly, you apologize to your driver before rolling up the divider, taking a note that if you ever want to talk to yourself like a crazy person again, maybe do it in private.

“Hello?” In your hurry to pick it up, you fail to check the caller ID.

But even if it was easy to ignore the contact picture and the name in your state of embarrassment, you couldn’t dismiss the club music banging against the speaker.

“(L/n)! You finally picked up!”

Wincing at the volume of the electronic music, you pull the phone away from your ear to see who the hell is calling you from a club this early in the evening. Your confusion only grows when you see a crooked smile beaming back at you.

“Arai?” Why the hell was Arai calling you from a club at 20:00.

“(L/n)? Can you hear me?” The bass suddenly picked up tempo, and you could hear Arai trying to raise his voice over the noise.

“Barely.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “Where are you?”

“I’m at The Black Rose! The new nightclub that just opened up!” He laughs on the other end at something his friend said. “It’s definitely…more active than we had anticipated. What are you doing?”

“I’m just in the car.”

“Really? Great! Then you’re already a step ahead of me!”

Meeting the confused look of your driver again, you give her a thumbs up as the car zooms by on the open road. “What do you mean?”

“Get over here!” He pauses, and you hear a clunk and a gulp from his end. “I’m only down two shots, and my friends really want to meet you!”

“Arai.” Your tone is gentle, a soft giggle coming from your lips. “I can’t. I have plans tonight.”

“Oh, no, really?” He nearly whines, his crackly voice like peppermint bark. “Is it with that jackass of a partner? You never told me his name, so I’m just gonna call him jackass.”

This earns Arai a full on laugh. “No, no. It’s a sleepover with my best friend.” It felt nice to call her that again.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you?” Arai nearly pleads, and it seems the music dimmed, now a thundering echo in the background.

“You can’t.” You smile when he halfheartedly curses. “She really deserves time with me right now.”

“Okay, well tell me what to do to get in line for your time, because I need to make an arrangement for us to come to this awesome club together.” There’s a stuttering breath, then a gasp. “Oh, wait, unless you don’t like clubs? Do you not like the club scene? That would make total sense, of course, I know you prefer calmer atmospheres– or unless you don’t and I read it all wrong?”

“No, no, Arai. You’re fine.” Honestly, you had been waiting for him to stutter or something. It seemed like alcohol boosted his confidence a bit. “You can totally jump to the front of the line, of course.”

“Woo!” His voice lessened as he pulled the speaker away from his mouth to shout across the club. “Did you guys hear that? I got a fast pass!”

You hear some muffled, dismissive hums from his friends before Arai focuses back into the call.

“They’re not as excited as they should be. You’re a busy woman who is hard to get a hold of. Who may or may not like clubs? I never got an answer to that.” You could almost picture him scratching the back of his head.

“I enjoy them when I can prepare myself for them.” You agree, crossing a leg over the other. “Plus, I’m sure my mother would be glad to hear us hanging out again outside of business meetings.”

Arai makes an agreeable hum. “Right, yeah, your mother. I mean, my dad would also be happy to hear it, so….is that a yes?”

“Sure.” You can’t help the smile on your teeth at his eagerness. “Sounds fun. Some other time, though.”

“I’ll be waiting!” His friends began calling his name, and his attention was completely snatched once again.

“Be safe, though, Arai! Make sure to–”

“Yeah, bye (L/n)!”

The line goes dead. Shaking your head, your driver pulls your gaze to her questioning one and you just shrug, looking out the window with a smirk on your face. It was fun, creating a comfort of your own.

Dark, silk sheets wrap over Kyoya’s bare torso, a deep sleep blanketing his form. His breaths are long and heavy as his face stays relaxed. A rare look for the fourth child, but third in line.

Something warm slinks across his chest, something that made him hum in gratitude. Ever the deep sleeper, Kyoya barely feels a sort of pressure come from that something, pressing him against another warmth. In his sleep, the Ootori son relaxes, peacefulness cocooning him as a feeling of contentedness washes over his body like the satin against his skin.

That is until, in the darkness, Kyoya feels that same warm touch on his neck, his creamy skin becoming alight with each press.

Lips. Lips kiss up the column of his throat, and he bends his head slightly to allow those lips more room. Slowly, they make a trail to the shell of his ear, as if time did not exist within the confine of his bedroom walls, and this pair of lips had all the seconds in the world. A needy breath crawls up his throat then, and in his sleepy daze, the megane slowly rolls over, seeking more of that warmth.

His stormy eyes can only open a crack, the fuzz of night and sleep blurring his reality. But he sees a shoulder, and a soft visage in the corner of his eye, those lips still pressing achingly slow into his pulse. And his body just knows.

Kyoya thinks his lips part, a rumbly, graveled voice sounding from his chest. “Mm…(Y/n)?”

(H/c) strands fall onto the sheets around him, but he still can’t get a full image of you, your form always tied to his peripheral. But your voice, your voice is clear as crystal against his ear.

“Catch me, Kyo.”

He blinks, the lips are gone. No more warmth around his chest and stomach where your arm had pulled him into you, and no shadows calling to him in the night. Kyoya takes a stuttering breath and shoots up in his bed, dark sheets billowing to his waist as low foggy clouds become thunderstorms in his eyes.

His pupils dilate and he immediately winces at the sunlight bathing into his room, and he shields his eyes. Groaning, Kyoya fists his sheets within his grasp, swallowing a yell at the loss of his sleep-like peace. The dream he had wanted to sink into.

The ravenette gingerly lays back into his bed, heaving a breath to stave away a budding headache from being woken up so early, so suddenly. His arm drapes over his naked eyes, a swallow melting down his throat that was still tingling.

This wasn’t the first dream he’d had where the ghost of his want had haunted him. But it was the first time you had spoke.

Catch me, he thought. What the hell does that mean?

Kyoya was never one to look into the meaning of dreams. That would be illogical. Absurd. No, the only reason your teasing line replayed in his head so many times was because it had sounded so…enticing. Like an invitation he would never refuse.

But you were mad at him, so he would never get the chance.

You were mad at him. The thought had almost made him laugh when you had admitted that to him because of course. Of course you found some way to flip it all on him so that you wouldn’t have to take accountability for your actions, even though you had already apologized to the rest of the host club. Everyone except for him got a proper apology, and you left him alone in the dark.

But you were mad at him.

You were mad at him?

Kyoya didn’t care what anybody thought. Ever. Especially if they felt he had wronged them in some way with his blunt honesty and piercing ambition. Most of the time, those people were rich, greedy, annoying little pests in the world of business and management, already begging to be knocked down a few pegs by his intelligence and sharp observation. Or, let’s be honest, they weren’t going to get that far in life anyway, who was he to sugarcoat things?

But you had never been any of those people. No, even through his anger and betrayal, Kyoya could accept that you were smart. That you were creative, strong-willed and strong-minded, and full of potential. He knew you were going to do great things. But you did it with kindness. With a grace that he, dare he admit, admired.

Frowning, Kyoya flipped onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow and draping the covers over his head. He can take anger from anyone else, even his parents. Even Tamaki, who always found that Kyoya had been right, in the end.

But you. You were mad at him.

Why? What had he done? You had seen him throw business after business underground and cut expenses and salaries like they were butter but you had never bat an eye. You both had stopped speaking for that uncomfortable week under Renge’s influence, but you had come at him with your typical fire and spark, and all was well. Unfortunately, he realizes you have gotten used to him using the silent treatment as a way to get what he wants. To let people stew in their own anxiety that they end up apologizing to him in the end.

Now, though, you have taken a backseat. He reaches out to you more than you return the favor, embarrassingly, and there seemed to be no motivation to fix whatever awkward space you two were in now. Why were you becoming so distant instead of confronting him head on? Why were you running away?

Catch me, Kyo.

Turning his head, he squints both at the onslaught of sunlight from his window and the determination blossoming within.

Kyoya would do whatever he could to unearth the truth, to learn. He deserved to know, and the third Ootori son always worked hard for the things he deserved.

But, even ambitious shadow lords need their beauty rest. His eyelids slipped shut, a part of him still wishing to return to that dream space. Instead, though, his dark eyelashes flutter open again to the sound of his phone ringing on his nightstand.

“Absolutely not.” He grumbles to himself, digging himself deeper into the top of his mattress. If he hadn’t already been awake, he would’ve slept through that ringtone that he knew too goddamn well. Anyone who knows him realizes that on weekends, Kyoya Ootori does not wake up before noon.

There’s one person, however, that just doesn’t care.

His phone stops jumping on the bedside table and Kyoya braces for the next few calls. It’s a pattern that has been repeated over and over. Three calls, three voicemails, six text messages. Then he can fall back into the silence of his bedroom without interruption.

But after the third call, it rings again. And again. And again until Kyoya is harshly sitting up, gripping his expensive cell phone with a tight grip while answering it with a vengeance.

“Kyoya!” Tamaki’s voice flows through the speaker, but before he can say anything else, the Ootori son is spitting venom through his microphone.

“What in God’s name makes you think you can ring my phone incessantly without any disregard for the time? Any disregard for my sleep?” He growled, teeth baring over his receiver. “I’ll have you know, you idiot, that I was awake until four in the morning working on your club’s finances, and if I don’t get the rest I need, I will be more than in favor of completely destroying the entire Host Club and running that business into the ground.”

There’s a small pause, and Kyoya imagines Tamaki blinking owlishly on the other end. The ravenet sighs, a headache already starting to form from how low his blood sugar had dropped from rising out of his bed so suddenly.

“Come on, Kyoya! The day is new. Plus, I just had the most terrible dream.” His best friend gasps, and Kyoya doesn’t restrict his eye roll.

“And I’d like to get back to mine.” His words are short and sharp. “Goodnight.”

“Wait, please. I need your help! Haruhi is living in poverty!”

Even though the Ootori son had brought his phone away from his ear, he still heard the whine that Tamaki voiced over the speaker, and Kyoya’s infamous curiosity overpowered his will for sleep.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I woke up in such a frenzy this morning, it was a disaster! I was so rattled that I forgot it was even a weekend. My lovely maid, Shima–”

“I know who Shima is, Tamaki.”

“Right, well she had to stop me from running outside of the house in my pajamas. My pajamas! I had never been so unpresentable in my life.”

That headache was getting worse. “Can you get to the point?”

“Oh, Kyoya, I had a dream where Haruhi was…” Tamaki’s voice lowered significantly, whispering the forbidden word into the phone. “...poor. And that she was dirty, and so sad. We need to help her! What if she is living with a disease? Or famine?” Another gasp burst from the prince’s lips. “What if she is living without a skin care routine?!”

“Haruhi’s conditions are perfectly suitable for her desired life-style, I can assure you.”

“How do you know for sure? We’ve never seen where she lives, or how she is living. She could need me, and I would never know!” Another whine pierces the phone line, and Kyoya really, actually considers hanging up on him.

Gritting his teeth, Kyoya takes his finger away from the ‘end call’ button. “If you would like to visit her so dreadfully, then go. No one is stopping you.”

There’s another pause, and the Ootori son hopes that Tamaki has finally come to his senses. But, of course, that was wishful thinking.

“Please don’t make me go alone! Please, Kyoya, you’ve read about commoner living, right? It would be so nice to have you there with me.”

“Tamaki, I cannot just abandon all of my plans today because you-”

“Please. I’ll do anything you want.” Tamaki was practically on his hands and knees at this point, but Kyoya still let out a huff.

“I am a very busy man, Tamaki. My sleep is the only time where I might find some solace within the disarray you call a host club. If you insist on company, I suggest calling (Y/n)-”

“You know just as well as I do that (Y/n) will not be awake at this time.”

Shadows bleed from the bags under Kyoya’s eyes. “How fortunate for her.”

“Please, Kyo? For me?” And in his tired mind, the megane imagines Tamaki’s purple eyes batting at him, big and wide and hopeful.

A low sigh releases from Kyoya’s lips at the nickname, one he has heard less of recently. Letting his face fall into his unoccupied palm, the Ootori has to force his tongue to form his next sentence. “When do we leave?”

Haruhi prances down the sidewalk of her neighborhood, grocery bags swinging left and right on her arms. Her lips are quirked into a calm grin, the peace of the spring air weaving through her brunette locks.

That was some sale! There’s no better time to hit the supermarket like a Sunday morning. She thinks, tucking into one of the pockets of her pink dress to grab a notepad and flip it open. Smart eyes glaze over the to-do list written there as her tennis shoes clack against the sidewalk. Now, all I have to do when I get home is wake up (Y/n) and see what she wants to do!.

At the thought of you, Haruhi shakes her head fondly. You two had such a great night. Even if you had seemed too chipper, it was better than the distance you had put between them the past few days. Because it was Haruhi’s first sleepover, the honor student studied up on how to throw the best one she could. Ingredients for your favorite cookies were bought, plenty of movies were stacked up on a shelf, and the brunette had found nail polish on sale. Buy one, get two free! How serendipitous was that?

Everything was put to use, and then some. While the cookies baked, you sensed what Haruhi was up to.

“Haru, did you study up on sleepovers?” You had asked, chuckling a little bit while leaning against her kitchen counter.

A small blush had come across her cheeks while she scratched the back of her head. “Yeah. Is that weird?”

“No, not at all!” You were quick to make her feel less awkward. “It’s just sweet. This is my first sleepover too, so you’re probably wasting all your efforts. The bar is set very low for me.”

Haruhi laughed then, rolling her eyes. “Right, that makes me feel so much better.”

“Oh, stop.” You say. Picking up a glass, you walk over to fill it with lemonade that Haruhi had prepared. “You know, I think I might know another classic sleepover activity.”

Always eager to learn, Haruhi perks her ears. “Really? What is it?”

You quirk an eyebrow over your glass. “Talking about boys.”

The honor student hums, her eyes rolling playfully. “You just want an excuse to talk about Kyoya-Senpai.”

You forced a laugh out of your throat. “No, no. I want to talk about the boys you like. If Kyoya just happens to come up, that will be your doing.”

This time, Haruhi’s eye find you with a serious tone. “Me? I don’t like any boys.”

A scoff blows past your lips. “Haru, you’re an attractive girl surrounded by the most attractive men in our school who would do almost anything for you. You haven’t fallen for one of them by now?”

Her dark eyebrows furrow, and the timer on the oven dings, signaling the cookies were fully baked. Slipping on hot pads, Haruhi bends to grab the cookie pan from the oven, letting the heat and the smell of sweets wash over her.

“No, no. Honestly, I haven’t thought about any of that. My studies are the most important thing right now, and I have so much to do at home. I…don’t have time for things like that.”

But you watch as a thoughtful look glazes over her features, setting the tray of cookies down in deep thought.

“But…there might be someone, yeah?” You ask softly.

You imagine a flash of black hair coming into her vision, when in reality, blonde locks are what come to the front of her mind before she shakes it away.

A sympathetic look comes to your face. Placing your hand hers that rests on the counter, you get her attention.

“I guess I just want you to know that if you did like someone, you can talk to me about it. I think I’d be so excited, I’d try to, like, push you two together at any possible second.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Her lips quirk up as she laughs. “I’ll let you know.” Then her eyebrows wriggle a little bit as she waves the steam from the desserts, encouraging them to cool. “But we can still talk about Kyoya-senpai.”

Teasingly, she looks up, expecting you to be rolling your eyes and blushing. But when your shoulders deflate and your eyes shine with something she can’t place, she realizes that maybe that wasn’t the best thing to bring up.

“I know you guys are still rocky, but you and him-”

“Things between us are over.”

“What?” Haruhi clears her throat. “Over one little fight?”

“It wasn’t very little.” You reply sheepishly, shrugging and playing with your lemonade.

“Well, what did he say when you apologized to him?”

Your eyes shot to hers then, your head in your hand. (E/c) eyes darkened a little before you pulled your lip between your teeth. “I, uh, didn’t get the chance too.”

“What? Why not?”

Your gaze became unfocused, distant words pressing past your teeth. “I guess I realized that he wanted something different. Something that wasn’t me.”

“That’s not true. He-”

“No, it is.” Just like that, the faraway look snaps back into reality, and you pull your lips into an assuring grin. “But it’s fine.”

“It is? You’re fine?”

“More than fine.” You take another sip from your drink. “It’ll be better this way. For all of us.”

After the cookies were done, you both sat down on your mats, which were laid in her T.V. room. Her room was too small to fit both of you, so Ranka said you two could sleep out there, near the windows that overlooked the city.

“Sorry my place is a little cramped.” Haruhi said, folding her feet underneath her.

Shaking your head, you lay a blanket across your lap. “It’s really not. It’s so homey and warm. I would’ve offered my place, but it’s kind of the opposite.”

“I still think it would’ve been better than here. Are you sure you’re not bored?” Haruhi realizes.

“Of course I’m not bored.” You assure her. “But, when we do this again, you can come over to mine, if you really want to. My parents won’t be home, so we can do whatever we want.”

“Whatever we want?”

“Mhmm.” You start to list areas of your house on your fingers. “We have the movie theater, the pool, the tennis courts, the gardens. Oh, and there are secret doors next to the library that I could show you.”

Haruhi’s eyes glisten a little in the light of her home. “You have a library?”

Laughter rang out from you, then, and you had both gone to sleep that night, crashing on the sweetness of sugar and friendship.

When morning came, though, you were dead to the world. You had mentioned that you needed a very competent, persistent alarm of some kind to wake up in the mornings, otherwise you’d sleep past noon on the weekends. Even though you had asked Haruhi not to let you sleep in and waste the day away, the natural-type couldn’t bring herself to interrupt that relaxed look on your face.

So, she had gotten up, and the early riser left to get a head start on her morning chores, making sure her schedule was cleared to spend some time with you.

Too bad her efforts were in vain.

As Haruhi approached her apartment complex, a glint of sunlight caught her eye. Shielding her eyes, Haruhi found the source to be a sparkling surface of polish and pristine. Something she didn’t see much of around here. Squinting, she noticed it was a car. A fancy car.

No, like, it was a really fancy car.

She was even more perplexed when she saw another one right beside it, and a limo stretched next to her sidewalk. No one in her building was this well off.

Oh no, was the Yakuza here? Had they heard about the amazing prices at the supermarket and wanted to take advantage of the great sale like she did?

Calming herself down, she took a breath. That’s ridiculous, she thought, the Yakuza wouldn’t be out shopping for themselves.

No, they’d get someone to do it for them.

With a courage that should be awarded, Haruhi continued her path to her home, waiting to see minions of the Japanese Mafia as one of the doors to the limo swung open.

But when blonde locks bounced off the morning’s sunlight, Haruhi paused for an entirely different reason. A very strong urge to sprint in the other direction.

Tamaki rose out of his limo, a casual outfit wrapped around his frame. A set of sunglasses is perched on his nose before he pushes them up into his hair, little wisps sticking out the sides. Each car then opens to reveal the rest of the host club, their own everyday street wear warming in the sun.

Haruhi groans, leaning onto a pole and dropping her groceries in offense.

Kyoya bends out of his seat, a dark vest wrapped over a red tank top, his hair free of any gel or product. His mouth sits in a calm line, quietly scanning the apartment complex in front of him. Folding his arms, they feel slightly naked without his black book in his grasp.

“So this is where Haruhi lives?” Kaoru asks, pulling on his white shirt and red vest.

“It’s pretty big, huh? Bigger than I thought it would be.” Hikaru adds, rolling up the sleeves of his red hoodie. Necklaces and jewelry adorned both of the twins. They wouldn’t be caught dead without the appropriate accessorizing.

A gasp sounds on their right as Honey and Mori saddle up next to them, a gleam in the former’s eye. “Yeah, wow! Look at all the rooms!”

“Actually,” Kyoya reminds, “This is what you might call an aggregate commoner dwelling. Haruhi’s home is just one of the many units in this building.”

As Kyoya fixes the glasses onto his face, he feels hands clamp onto his shoulders, Tamaki trembling with nerves. “Kyoya, why? Why did you bring these idiots with us?! Especially those two doppelgangers?!”

But the megane just levels his tired gaze to his best friend, and he tilts his head just so, the sun creating a barrier between his eyes and Tamaki’s. “Well, I knew you didn’t have the courage to come here on your own. So, I thought it would be best if everyone came along.”

Casually brushing off Tamaki’s grip, Kyoya just shrugs, sighing as he leads the twins back into their cars. “Alright, let’s go home. I guess I underestimated our great leader.”

Hikaru knocks him off, pulling Kaoru into his side. “What? We aren’t going home!”

“Wait, wait!” Tamaki rushes to Kyoya, clinging to his long back. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave.” His voice drops into a whine, and the Ootori son rolls his eyes internally. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“That’s what I suspected.” Kyoya sighs, and turns in Tamaki’s grip. Many years ago, that touch on his shoulder would’ve lit a fire in his spirit, but it dulled into more of a prismatic ray as Kyoya realized that Tamaki’s passions were elsewhere.

As were his own. He just hadn’t gotten that far yet. Not like it mattered anymore.

But, with this blonde, an annoyingly deep bond was formed anyway, so Kyoya let it stay.

“Alright men, gather round.” The touch on Kyoya’s shoulder grew firm, and he was launched into a huddle with the rest of his friends.

“Don’t forget!” Tamaki was a born leader, his commanding voice drawing even more attention from the citizens of this commoner dwelling. “We must be polite, this is simply a casual ‘we-just-happened-to-be-in-the-neighborhood’ kind of visit. We are absolutely not here to judge the Fujioka family’s lifestyle. The words ‘shabby’, ‘cramped’, and ‘rundown’ are absolutely forbidden!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kyoya perceived a pink dress in a diagonal line, leaning against a telephone pole. “Tamaki, if I may-” He starts, trying to point out the figure.

“Don’t say anything that might offend Haruhi or her father.” The pink line shuddered and straightened before moving closer to their group huddle. “We can’t have them asking us to leave!”

That pink dress solidified into a younger honor student, and Kyoya felt his help in drawing attention to her was no longer needed when she growled in the host’s direction.

“Well, it’s too late for that!”

Jumping out of his skin, Tamaki spun around, purple eyes growing into saucers.

“Haruhi-”

“Go away!” Again, Haruhi’s forehead irked, a wild look in her eye. But Tamaki didn’t register her anger as those lilac plates rolled down her dress, a small blush coming to the apples of his cheeks.

“Wow, Haruhi…” Tamaki breathed, and he and the twins suddenly gave a thumbs up. Together, they were a love-sick pack of pups. “That pink dress is pretty cute!”

But Haruhi bared her teeth. “Shut up! Get the hell out of here!”

Kyoya’s eyelids grew half a centimeter. He had never heard Haruhi cuss before.

Tamaki stumbled back, a horrified gasp sucking through his mouth. “Haruhi’s so mad, she actually cursed at us!” Tears formed in his eyes as he whirled on the twins, beginning to accuse them of being a bad influence on the honor student, which Kyoya couldn’t disagree with.

A lady cautiously walks over to Haruhi, and Kyoya can see the small stains on the hems of her dress. Someone who might live in this building, he supposed.

“Excuse me, Haruhi, but is everything alright?”

Irritated beyond belief, Haruhi sighs, looking over to the woman with a blank expression. “Hi, Ms. Landlady.”

Oh, so this is the woman the Fujioka’s pay rent to. Her eyes shift from Haruhi to the boys, then back. “Those boys are driving such fancy, foreign cars. They aren’t Yakuza, are they?”

“No, they’re not.” But by the tone of her voice, Kyoya thinks that Haruhi may have preferred the Japanese mafia to their chaos.

“I mean, do you want me to call the police for you…?” Her question trails off as Tamaki reaches around Haruhi, practically pushing the shorter host to the side as he grabs the older woman's hand.

Sparkles come to his eyes, spilling into his lashes and sprinkling around his entire face, completely enchanting the woman in front of him in seconds. That’s what practice can do for a professional.

“Pleased to meet you, Madam. My name’s Suoh, I’m one of Haruhi’s friends.” The landlady is already gushing as Haruhi watches with amazement.

“Really?” The landlady’s hand tightens in his grip. “Well, aren’t you just adorable?”

“And, he’s got her.” Kyoya hears Haruhi mumble.

A pale hand runs through golden straw as Tamaki flicks those sparkles into the air, captivating the woman further. “We were just stopping by, we didn’t mean to cause a scene. I’m sorry.” Utter sincerity rushes through Tamaki’s tone, and the pure talent the french boy possess nearly raises envy into Kyoya’s blood.

But of course, it doesn’t.

The tinkling of the old woman’s laughter filled the space. “Oh, it’s no problem!” She pulls Haruhi back to her side, the honor student having no choice but to follow. “I’ll be back with some snacks later for your friends. See ya later!”

As the Host Club watches the woman leave, Haruhi grumbles, coming back to Tamaki’s side. “Alright, well, thank you for coming.” Kyoya didn’t believe she was actually grateful. “But, I have a lot of work today, and even some company-”

“Boys, to the Fujioka Residence!”

Long legs dressed in over priced cloth begin to climb the staircase of her apartment complex, bustling energies rising with every step.

“I can’t wait to see where Haru-chan lives! I bet it’s cute, right Takashi?” Honey pipes, his blue and white, sailor inspired outfit swishing in his rush.

His cousin just strides, taking the stairs two at a time while nodding. “Yeah.”

“Wait!” Haruhi’s call falls on deaf ears as she rushes to follow the host club. “You guys don’t even know where I-”

“Kyoya?” Tamaki looks around in a rush, seemingly millions of doors stretching into his view.

“Second door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

An irk appears on Haruhi’s forehead. “How do you know where I live? That’s stalking, Kyoya-senpai!”

But the Host Club appears in front of a door. A door that was already emanating warmth and comfort, which made Tamaki a little calmer. Surely a home with this kind of energy wouldn’t be too bad, right?

“Haruhi! Let us in.” The prince boldly states.

“Tamaki, you can’t just barge into my house.”

He turns over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. “Which is why I am asking you to let us in, okay?”

Haruhi sighs, shifting her feet. “You aren’t going to leave unless I let you see it, huh.” It wasn’t really a question, but more of an acceptance of fate.

“Nope.” Kaoru states, canines shining.

“Not even close.” Hikaru confirms.

“Right.” Another sigh, and Haruhi is making her way through the crowd of her Host Club. She wanted to call you, but she knew you wouldn’t pick up. The time hadn’t even hit the double digits. She could bang on the door, tell you to get up before your friends could interrupt your sleep, but there was already a crowd outside and she didn’t want to draw more attention.

“What’s taking so long?” Tamaki asks, a wild look in his eye.

“It’s just, there’s-” But Tamaki grabbed her by the shoulders. His eyes were desperate, purple churning into a royal violet.

“Haruhi, I promise, whatever is behind that door, we won’t judge you. We could never judge you. Just open the door, okay?”

The twins laughed. “Speak for yourself.”

The honor student’s lips parted. “But-”

“Open the door!” Kyoya quirks an eyebrow as Tamaki collects himself. Gently, he pushes a stunned Haruhi to the door, who grumbles under her breath, shoving the key into the hole.

“Here’s the deal.” She states, her keys jangling. “I’m only giving you guys a quick peek, I have a day planned. Three seconds, and then you all go home, got it?”

“Plans? You have plans?” Hikaru asks, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Yes.” Haruhi sighs out her answer. “I have a friend over.”

The door swings open, and before the Hosts can process that Haruhi lives in a very stable, normal apartment, the mattress in the center of the floor rustles.

All of their gazes drop as a strip of sunlight from the doorway stretches over your sleeping form. A mint green, lovingly woven blanket comforts you as you shift, softly waking up from your deep sleep, and Haruhi sighs.

“We had a sleepover. She stayed the night.” She whispers.

Kyoya swallows. He hadn’t expected to see you here. You hadn’t answered Tamaki’s calls, Hikaru’s texts, or his own voicemails, so everyone just assumed you were still asleep and would join them later. Which was partly true.

But here you were. Vulnerable, peaceful, and here.

Then, your eyes fluttered open, that sun drifting over one of your eyelids. Squinting, you hummed a displeased tone, rising from the mat. Your hair was matted to your head, lips chapped and eyes swollen from your sleep, and your voice was gravelly as you spoke.

(N/l) flew over your lips in a grumble, and Tamaki and the twins gave you blank stares. The other, more linguistic hosts, held their breath.

“What did she say?” Hikaru whispered in his brother’s ear. Kaoru just shrugged, sneaking a picture of your decrepit form.

Honey looked at Hikaru with big eyes. “She said-”

A hand covered his mouth. “Don’t repeat it, Mitsukuni.”

“Hey, (Y/n).” Haruhi said weakly. “I’m sorry, they just barged in here.”

Everyone could tell you were still trying to find your bearings, your gaze loose as it flitted over every club member. Kyoya saw the moment when you realized the situation you were in. (E/c) met his gray, and in your drowsy state, he saw your gaze soften like it used to.

The world melted, golden hues playing in your irises. You seemed warm, comfortable, and the megane straightened his spine. You were the only one that could look at him like that. Like he was perfect, no matter where he was in his life.

It was jarring.

Kyoya broke eye contact when the defenses finished their change of guard. Walls were built, cages were raised, and any affection was sealed away. The warmth disappeared, the atmosphere solidifying around you when you dropped out of your dreamy state into reality.

The reality that all of your friends were standing in the doorway while you hadn’t even taken a shower yet.

Groaning, you held your head in your hands, careful of the crusting face mask you had slept with. “Oh my god.”

Hikaru and Kaoru also let out a displeased noise, rolling their shoulders. “We really didn’t think we’d have to do this today.”

“What’re you talking about?” Haruhi asked. The twins moved through the crowd of their host club, coming up to either side of the honor student.

“We’ve had too many late nights with (Y/n), so we know…”

“...Waking her up takes a certain process.”

With more grace than they’ve ever had, the twins sneak across the mats of Haruhi’s floor, taking their shoes off at the door. Kaoru kneeled down in front of you while Hikaru moved behind you, massaging your shoulders.

“Alright, (Y/n), you with us?” Kaoru asks, bringing your face into his hands. His touch was gentle, hands thoroughly moisturized with expensive lotions and soaps.

“Yeah, you back with the living?” Hikaru teases, his thumbs breaking up the knots at the base of your neck.

Haruhi watches their gentleness with confusion. “Who are these people? What have they done with my classmates?”

But you melted into the brothers’ touch slightly, confirming that you were not, in fact, responsive yet. Humming appreciatively, you arched your back as Hikaru’s hands worked your spines. Kaoru saw the grin on your face and rolled his eyes. The brothers just shook their heads before meeting eyes over your form, their gentle smiles sharpening a little.

Kyoya hummed apprehensively. “It seems we are about to see their true intentions.”

Your eyes shot open as the muscles on your cheeks stretched. Kaoru pulled at your face before smashing it back the other way, distorting your features. Then Hikrau’s grip turned rigid, and the whine that was let out of your mouth turned broken as he shook your torso. Their voices weren’t soft anymore, and their teeth glinted as they smirked.

“Wakey wakey, (Y/n)!”

“Time to get up!”

“Stop it! Mon ami is just tired!” Tamaki cried, flying into the apartment to rip you from their grasp. Suddenly, he’s twirling you, your tired form limply flailing in his arms. “You’re so cute when you’re tired (Y/n)! Come here, let me cuddle you! So, so cute!”

“Tamaki-senpai, stop!” Haruhi says, worried at the shade of green your face was turning. The prince pulls you away and when he sees the stars in your eyes, sets you on the ground.

“I’m sorry, mon ami, are you okay?”

Nodding, you sway on your feet, but Haruhi steadies you. “You okay, (Y/n)?”

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. After the world stops spinning, your eyes open sharply in a glare, (e/c) eyes sliding to your ginger-haired nightmares.

An aura surrounds you, and Tamaki and Haruhi take a small step back. Slowly, your feet pad over to the twins, but they just fold their arms.

“You wouldn’t wake up…” Kaoru says, shrugging his left shoulder.

“...So we had to take appropriate measures.” Hikaru finishes, casually lifting his right.

You walk too calmly, and from behind his glasses, Kyoya peers at the way your jaw clenches, or how your fists ball at your sides. The twins, despite their efforts to look unbothered, huddle a little closer together.

“Is this where we die?” They ask together, seeing the rage in your eyes.

Pointing a finger at them, Kaoru’s handprint still burns your cheek as you get in their faces. The words you speak are foreign to them, but it’s growling and sinister as venom rushes past your teeth. (N/l) has never sounded so sharp, and they are bewildered as you shove them out of your way to enter Haruhi’s bathroom, sliding the door behind you.

The hosts hear a shower running before the twins turn back to their friends. Kaoru’s eyes are wide as he looks at his brother. “I feel like a curse was just put on me.”

Honey beamed, taking a deep breath. “She said-!”

“No, Mitsukuni.”

Haruhi just sighs, turning towards her prince as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Alright, you guys saw my place. Can you leave now?”

The boy-lolita pouts, and Honey raises a box of desserts that Haruhi hadn’t noticed he was carrying. “Oh, but look! I brought you a gift, Haru-chan! I know how much you love cake, so I brought chocolate and strawberry! Isn’t that great?”

The martial arts master just looked so excited, and there was nothing Haruhi could do against his puppy dog eyes. Relenting, she gripes. “Fine. I’ll clean this stuff up and make us some tea.”

Both futons were easy to pack up and put away, and as Haruhi rolled up the blankets and sheets, the boys were able to take in her living space.

Tamaki runs his hands along the modest counter tops in the kitchen. “At least it’s better than my dream.” He mumbles.

“What a hovel.”

“Shut up!” The prince squeals, covering Hikaru’s mouth with his palms while double checking that Haruhi didn’t hear him.

Kyoya roamed the space, scanning the architecture on the sliding doors. “A wood-built two bedroom unit. That is pretty normal for a commoner family of two.”

Kaoru nodded next to him, looking at the humble lighting hanging from the ceiling. Very different from his massive chandeliers back home. “And Haruhi’s such a pipsqueak, at least we know she won’t hit her head on the low ceilings.”

“Well, I think it’s a cute little room!” Honey says, spreading his arms out and twirling, nearly hitting Mori in the gut.

“You don’t have to struggle to compliment it.” Haruhi drones, stuffing the rest of the bedding into the linen closet.

The boys soon migrate to Haruhi’s T.V. room, jostling around in the tight space.

“Oh, wow, talk about small.” Hikaru says as he squeezes by Kyoya, barely missing the T.V. set up in the corner of the room. Mori walks straight through the doors, and before the megane can stop him, accidentally knocks his head on the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

“Ow.”

“Be careful!” Karou says, pointing at the light feature. “I should’ve said something earlier.”

Tamaki just huffs, setting himself down on the far right side of the room and curling in on himself. “This place is quite unpleasant, but I think we may have underestimated commoner housing!” His voice is strained as he compacts himself into a ball, and the other hosts follow suit.

“I know it’s a tight fit in here, men, but just pull your knees in and sit gym style.” The blonde’s voice mimics intelligence as he educates his friends. “Commoners have specially developed this position to conserve space.”

Kyoya fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Hands on her hips, their favorite brunette appears in the doorway. By the way her mouth quirked over her teeth, she was probably motivating herself to just get through this visit. “I’ll go make us some tea.” Her pink dress swishes as she turns, but Hikaru stops her.

“Hey, why don’t you make this?” A pale, manicured hand offers her an orange bag of loose leaf tea. “It’s black tea that our father brought us as a souvenir from Africa. Try it.”

A thoughtful look replaces the annoyed one as Haruhi grasps the bag, turning it in her hand. “Sure, no problem.”

“It’s best served as milk tea.” Kaoru offers. “Do you have any milk?”

Still reading the directions, Haruhi nods. “I think so.” Then a finger comes to her chin. “When was the last time I bought some milk?”

A blur of blonde hair rushes to the tufts of orange as Tamaki pulls them into an urgent huddle. “Stop trying to embarrass her by asking for that tea!” The president of the Host Club tries to whisper quietly, but Kyoya can hear him clearly as he gives them hushed warnings. “She has no idea how to prepare it!”

Pale skin tones turn sickly as the twins fall into worry, Tamaki’s panic becoming contagious. “She doesn’t even have a tea pot!”

“She’s too embarrassed to tell us that she doesn’t!” Too ashamed to stand, Kaoru crawls forward towards Haruhi as she stands in the kitchen. He reaches out a trembling hand. “I’m sorry, Haruhi, you don’t have to go through all that trouble. We’d be fine with a glass of water.”

“What are you doing?”

The host club turns to find you leaning against the doorway, hair damp and face cleaned. You still weren’t wearing any make-up and you weren’t in your fanciest attire, but you seemed casual and fresh. Definitely happier than how you welcomed them a few minutes ago.

On the floor, Kyoya is slightly thrown off for the second time today. Seeing you out of uniform wasn’t rare, as he saw you in costumes all the time, or dressed up for parties that your parents might throw as a business gathering. But these were clothes that were utterly you, clothes that you felt free in. A natural glow surrounded you as you leaned against the doorway, still getting used to being awake, and this natural look became another aspect of your life that Kyoya was introduced to.

He couldn’t say that he minded.

Feeling his gaze on you, you give him a small, closed-lip smile before turning back to the twins in front of you.

“These idiots asked Haruhi to make expensive tea!” Tamaki wailed. “How is she going to–”

You raised a tired eyebrow at Tamaki before looking over Haruhi’s shoulder from your position. “What are you talking about? She’s fine.”

“And it’s no trouble.” Haruhi insists, giving the hosts a quizzical look of her own. She turns, holding a tray of eight tea cups, filled with steam. “Besides, I’ve already made it.”

As people begin to settle into Haruhi’s home, the minions and the Boss settle back into their huddle.

“Man, that was a close one.” Hikaru breathes.

Tamaki solemnly nods. “We’ve been rescued by commoner’s wisdom.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Kaoru asks.

The prince’s voice gets low, serious as he watches Haruhi distribute the cups. “Nothing we know to be true in our world holds here! We have to be careful how we react. One little off-handed comment could break Haruhi’s heart!”

The Idiotic Trio gasps, already horrified at the thought. “That means, in this fight, the first person to embarrass Haruhi loses!”

Kyoya just sighs at their behavior, perusing the bookshelf flush against one of the apartment walls. He’s focused on the titles until he feels a presence at his side.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

Kyoya watches as you clear your throat, shifting your feet before reaching out. “Do you mind if I reach past you? I left my jewelry on this shelf last night.”

Quirking an eyebrow and looking towards the dark wood of the bookshelf, Kyoya finds a couple of simple bracelets and a necklace draped across the surface. He goes to move out of the way. “Oh, of course-”

You had shifted your body the same way, and chuckled at the mistake. “Sorry, let me just-”

He goes to move to the other side, but you follow him. “(Y/n), you need to–”

“No, I know, but you need to move that–”

With a few more dance moves, Kyoya huffs. His pale hand reaches out, stopping your movements with a touch on your shoulder and clears his throat. “I will get them for you.” Finally, Kyoya drops the jewelry into your awaiting hand.

“Thank you.” You mumble, working the (j/c) chain onto your neck. There’s a moment of silence before you are noticing the determined look in the Idiotic Trio’s eyes.

“I don’t know why they feel the need to turn everything into a contest.” You groan, rolling your stare over the different titles in Haruhi’s library.

“Their antics can be amusing, however.” The megane counteracts, pulling a book out with his index finger. “Especially when things get competitive.”

A small laugh rolls past your lips, and Kyoya’s smirk grows. “Yeah, you’re right. I just hope they don’t ruin Haruhi’s day.”

“I’m sure they will.” And then a silence falls in between the bustling of hosts as your friends chat, and the Ootori son hates it. What happened to the comfortable silence you two used to share? Could it be saved, or was that too dropped off a cliff’s edge?

He was surprised when he found himself breaking the awkwardness. “I was surprised to see you here this morning.”

Leaning your head against the bookshelf, a hum sounds at the back of your throat. “Yeah, I slept over last night.”

“And how was that?”

Kyoya watches as a smile forms on your tired lips. “Great, actually. It was nice to reconnect.”

“Reconnect?” Lazily, the Ootori son flipped through a couple pages of a law book. “I wasn’t aware you two were estranged.”

Shrugging, you turn away from him. “Not estranged, just…things were tense, for a while. It was my fault.”

“I see.”

Humming, you nod. “But Haruhi is such a forgiving person, so she welcomed me back with open arms.”

“Are you hinting that I should forgive you whole-heartedly for risking your life?” Kyoya suggests with a blank tone, gray eyes sliding over to you.

Shaking your head, some of the sleepiness is dislodged from your psyche. “Not at all. I’m over all that.” Your eyes lock with his, and there’s a hint of something there that he hasn’t seen before. “I’m just amazed at how good of a person she is sometimes. Don’t you think so?”

Dark lashes flick to the honor student that is sweat-dropping at a pair of twins who are studying their tea with suspicious glares, wondering if it was made correctly, and if it wasn’t, whether they should drink it anyway.

“I think she excels where most people of her category do not.” Kyoya nods.

“That’s basically a stellar compliment coming from you.” You laugh, your voice lower in the mornings than during school hours. “But I’m saying that not only is she smart and kind, but she is also ambitious and gorgeous, right?”

Kyoya closes the book in his hand, giving you a searching stare. “I suppose.”

“She’s kind of like the perfect woman, then.” He watches your throat tighten slightly.

“(Y/n), you’re rambling like a love-sick imbecile. If you’re in love with Haruhi, you can just say it out loud–”

Scoffing, you flip your wet hair over your shoulder. “What? No. I mean, I do love her, but not like that– not that it would be wrong to– I think everyone might be a little in love with Haru– no, but I don’t, personally, but if someone else did, then that would be cool, that would be fine, I’d be okay with that, so. Yeah.” A redness comes to your cheeks, your eyes landing in all directions but his.

This causes even more confusion to reach Kyoya’s chest. Why was everyone babbling utter nonsense today? “I’m not following.”

Taking a deep breath, you wave him off, moving towards the others. “Whatever, forget about it.”

The Ootori son’s eyelids narrowed. You’re mad at him, then come over to him in a private corner to talk about Haruhi? What was going on with you?

Haruhi looks up to greet you both, her wavering patience clear in her features. “Good for you two to join us.” She gestures to the tea cups set around the table, an empty spot next to her and another by Honey. “Sorry not all the cups match, but it’s all that was clean.”

You smile at her. “Thanks, Haru.” You fold one leg behind the other, getting ready to sit on the honor student’s right side, before you apparently think better of it. Quickly, you straighten and sit yourself next to the boy-lolita.

Stiffly, Kyoya reverently sits next to Haruhi, watching you across the table with a careful eye. Something was going on, and you wouldn’t be able to hide it for forever.

On your right, Honey-senpai excitedly sets the cake box down onto the table, opening it to reveal chocolate and strawberry cakes with fluffy sponges. Whipped cream and sprinkle dazzle the tops, and Honey’s eyes just shine with anticipation. But he shakes the stars out of his eyes and looks at Haruhi.

“C’mon Haru-chan! You can choose your cake first!”

“Are you sure, Honey-senpai?” But the martial arts master just nods, bouncing a little in his seat.

Hikaru nods encouragingly. “Yeah, go ahead! We’re rich so we eat this stuff all the time.” A too wide grin stretches his face before it’s knocked off by Tamaki and Kaoru elbowing his sides.

“What?” He whines, bringing his voice down. “I was trying to be considerate!”

The honor student thinks a little more before choosing one of the strawberry cakes, to Honey’s delight. The trio to Kyoya’s right basks in her cuteness, the small blush on her cheeks as she revels in the rich dessert. Sighing, the megane’s shoulders drop as they begin to tremble slightly, Haruhi’s apparent ‘cuteness’ excelling at new heights. Excited yet sad whispers bounced around the three, and he wished for his black book.

“Awe, I wish I could tell her how cute she is. But there is no telling what might offend her!” Tamaki pouts.

In his worry, Honey turns to you, a questioning look in his iris. “(N/n)-chan? Which one do you want?”

Smiling, you pat his head. “Yeah, I’ll get the strawberry one too.”

The twins practically melt at your kind simper, and the giggly smile that Haruhi produces. Their minds begin to freak, each nerve focused on not embarrassing the honor student. They're in a whole other environment, getting used to the rules of the commoner’s biome.

A determined nod shakes Honey-senpai’s shoulders, and the boy-lolita scoops two cakes and plops them in front of you and your friend. “Okay! You, me, Takashi and Haru-chan can all have the strawberry ones!”

After the cakes are distributed, a small smile rests on your face as you dig in. Soon after, a plump strawberry is set onto your plate.

Looking up, you see Mori giving you a kind, gentle smile. “You like strawberries, right? Here, you can have mine.” He pushed the fruit with his fork so that it’s resting near the body of your cake.

“Thank you, Mori-senpai.” You grin.

Mori then bends slightly, whispering something between you that has you laughing and rolling your eyes playfully. Kyoya’s mouth twists.

The director’s own chocolate cake looks rich and dense, and it makes his stomach turn. His family used to try to get him to eat sweets so that he could balance out his blood pressure, but they forced it so much that he became adverse to the fake sugar taste. And somehow, it looks even more repulsing with the glazed strawberry sitting on top of it.

Looking to his right, Kyoya finds that Haruhi has already begun to devour her plate, the cake quickly disappearing. Her brown eyes shift subtly towards his whole dessert, then back. Swiftly, she steals another wanting look, and Kyoya extends some peace to her suffering want.

“If you want this dessert, Haruhi, you simply have to ask.” Long fingers push his plate across the table, into the honor student’s space. “I’m certainly not going to eat it.”

Her brown eyes quickly shoot to his cool ones. “Oh, no, Senpai, that’s yours. I don’t want to-”

“Take it.” He insists. “You’d be doing me a favor.”

Cautiously, Haruhi raises her chopsticks, stabbing the strawberry with a gentle force. A delighted facade plays onto her features as she eats it whole, and Kyoya shakes his head. Oh, the simplest pleasures in life.

Looking across from him, he accidentally meets your eye, which had been already watching him and Haruhi, he realizes. Quickly, your gaze darts away, but he continues to watch as you push your cake around, your mouth morphin into something of distaste.

Which was peculiar, considering how much you loved Honey-senpai’s desserts.

Were you watching him? And then he did something that made you feel worse, and you looked away. His gray eyes darted back to Haruhi.

Was it that he shared his dessert with her?

“Haruhi…” Kyoya said, testing a hypothesis. The brown-haired student met his eyes once more, her mouth still full with strawberry. “Let me cut that for you.”

Pale fingers work the cake into equal parts with the utensils, despite Haruhi’s protests. Eventually, she lets him do what he wants. “Uh…thank you, Senpai. That’s nice of you, I guess.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your eyes flicking up and watching him. More specifically, watching him and Haruhi, and the act of service he performs for her.

Interesting.

“Ah, why didn’t I think of that?” Hikaru whines as Kyoya pushes Haruhi’s plate back to her, the red head seeing the suspicious but grateful look on the honor student’s face.

Kyoya sighs when he sees Tamaki bend over and start slamming the ground with his fist. “I should’ve been sharing my cake with her!”

Kaoru holds his own cheeks in his hands. “Why’d we let him trick us?!”

While that side of the table freaked out over virtually nothing, the other side sat back, satisfied looks on their faces as their desserts settled in their stomachs.

Honey-senpai patted his belly, his cheeks scattered with crumbs. “Ah, eating all the cake really wet my appetite.” He takes a second to burp, the high pitched sound echoing through Haruhi’s small living area.

That gives Hikaru an idea. “Yeah, isn’t it lunchtime right about now?”

Kyoya does note the empty feeling in his stomach, and he watches as the Idiotic Trio put on sickening smiling faces, facing Haruhi with a weird kindness.

They speak in unison. “Yeah, what’s for lunch, Haruhi?”

You roll your eyes, your dessert still only half eaten. “Aren’t you trying not to put pressure on her? How does that help?”

“And would you quit being so happy-go-lucky all the time?” Haruhi asks, her brow twitching.

But Kyoya couldn’t look away from your plate, the cake like a half moon in the sky. On any other day, that dessert would’ve been gone, but not today.

“Hmm.” The ravenet hums aloud before standing, a routine smirk gracing his lips. “We’ll take care of it, Haruhi. We did drop by unexpectedly.” He fixes the frames on his nose. “Why don’t you order from your favorite sushi place?”

At the edge of his glasses, you set your fork down, the unfinished cake abandoned on your plate.

Haruhi shakes her head, sending him an unimpressed glance. “Thanks, but no thanks.” She holds her hands up in a surrendering manner. “I know that I let you guys pay, I’ll only regret it later.”

At that, Kyoya’s smirk grows, and his hands reach into one of his vest pockets. “Oh, don’t worry Haruhi.” Whipping out a credit card, his pale fingers present it to the Natural Type, watching the gold color glisten in the sun. “We’ll just pay for it using the profits from the photos of you we auctioned off.”

A sarcastic laugh wheezed out of the honor student. “So I’m really paying for it after all.”

Getting up from the table, she dusts off the skirt of her dress. “Well, if that is what you want, I do have a friend who runs a nice little sushi shop nearby so I can give him a call. Their stuff is pretty high quality.”

Haruhi takes the card from Kyoya as the rest of the Ouran students rise from the table, getting ready to head to the sushi place. Suddenly, you step to Kyoya, and he feels your elbow jostle into his side. Usually, the gesture was gentle, but he felt it dig into his ribs a little harder than the times before.

“Do you really trust her to choose the place where we order lunch?” You ask lowly around the bustle of your friends. “I love the girl, but she doesn’t have the most refined taste.”

“Another instance in which you admit your love for Haruhi. As I’ve said, if you’re falling head over heels for our newest host, just say so.”

He catches the roll of your eyes. “I’m not.” You respond, and a meaningful beat passes as Kyoya catches Tamaki beginning to furiously write something on a piece of paper. The blonde then army crawls across the mats, and not-so-secretly hands it to Haruhi, who reads it over with a confused glance. Tamaki has once again underestimated her because she is a commoner, suggesting that she doesn’t know the difference between cheap and fancy tuna.

She chews him out for it, bringing a humored grin to both of your lips.

“But she would be an easy girl to fall in love with.” Voicing your thoughts, you fold your arms across your chest.

“Has anyone ever told you that you tend to send mixed signals?”

A small laugh poured out of your mouth. “I’m just saying.” A lone hair is tucked away. “I wonder how she has stayed single for this long.”

Kyoya shrugs, and without the comfortable distraction of his black book, indulges in your gossip. “Haruhi seems like the girl to have a specific set of standards for who she might be involved with romantically.”

“You think you might have an idea of who she wants to be with?” He feels you turn your head to look at him, the warmth of your gaze caressing his features, but he doesn’t look back.

He decides to keep his answer vague. “I’m sure I could make an educated guess.” His own spectacled eye falls to the blonde man who is currently being disciplined with his own note, rolled up in Haruhi’s hand. But he lets you make your own assumption on what he means.

His face turns colder. You’ve looked away. “I’m sure you could.” You try to keep your tone light.

Being the Cool-Type, he shoves a hand into the pocket of his pants. “Why the sudden interest in Haruhi’s love life?”

Kyoya sees the stutter before it manifests on your tongue, the sound tensing your shoulders and wringing your hands. “What? I’m not suddenly interested.” You protest. “She’s my best friend, I’m always looking out for stuff like that.”

“Then why not discuss it with her? Or someone else more versed in that sort of thing?” Finally, he glides his gray eyes over to you. “Why ask me?”

You scoff. “It’s not like I’ve been seeking you out personally.”

“Twice now, you’ve commented on Haruhi’s love life to me.” Kyoya is careful to keep his tone casual, unaccusing. “And you know I’m not one for gossip.”

“We both know that’s a lie.” Your mouth quirks up a bit. “You love the information you can get from mere rumors.”

Smirking, he pushes his frames up and turns to face you fully. “I’m not in favor of gossip about romantic relationships. Or secrecy in general. If one was to develop, especially in our nosy Host Club, I’m sure they’d be found out eventually. People might as well be open about them.”

Slowly, you turn to him, giving him a careful once over. “Really? You don’t think there should be an effort to hide it?”

“Why try? When it comes to any of us, Tamaki is already over-protective. The twins have their ear open for any information that could pose as blackmail. Mori and Honey-senpai are already more observant than we give them any credit for.”

He shrugs, turning to the group that is currently trying to pull an angry Haruhi off a crying prince. “There wouldn’t be any point in trying to keep it a secret.”

You take a sharp intake of breath. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”

He gives you a questioning glance. “Why not?”

His eyes drop to the way you bite your lip, a tell-tale sign your tongue has turned to knots. Your eyes dart to the chaos, and you decide to step in the fray. “Nevermind.” A nervous laugh resonates against Haruhi’s living room. “I should probably help them before they actually hurt anyone. Or themselves.”

Kyoya just nods, observing how you throw yourself into the mayhem and finally pry the note away from Haruhi’s hand, holding her in a gentle headlock.

It didn’t make sense for him to support the openness of romantic relationships in the Host Club.

What was confusing about it?

Was it the fact that any information about the Hosts being in a relationship would deteriorate revenue for the club, or initiate jealous outbursts within their clientele? Or was it because it didn’t make sense for him, Kyoya Ootori, demon robot lord disconnected from all emotion.

He felt like he was getting closer to why you were angry with him but also asking these intrusive questions, honing the variables in an equation that was beyond his skill level. But things were still convoluted, and he needed more information. He needed more time.

“Actually,” Honey speaks above all the noise. “I’d really love it if you made us something for lunch, Haru-chan.”

Perfect.

The twins gasp. “No Honey-senpai! How could you ask that of her?!”

Tamaki hisses, icing a bump on his forehead. “Don’t upset her, Senpai! Try to restrain yourself!”

There’s a pause in the bustle as plans change, Haruhi nodding as an idea pops into her mind. “I guess I could whip up something for lunch.”

“We can wait!” Honey says with a bright grin.

The Idiotic Trio develops stars in their eyes, gasping as they relish in a world where they get to try Haruhi’s cooking.

You give them a questioning stare. “I think something might be wrong with you three.”

Another pondering hum comes from Haruhi. “I would have to go back to the supermarket.”

The twins shoot up, on their feet in seconds. “We’re coming with you!” Hikaru announces, while Karou exclaims, “We want to see a commoner’s supermarket!”

“Me too!” Honey agrees, pulling Mori along with him.

Kyoya steps to Haurhi’s side, genuinely intrigued when he says, “This could be a learning experience.”

Suddenly, you’re stepping between them, shrugging as they move farther away from each other. “Well, if everyone is going…” You say, giving Haruhi a thumbs up. The honor student seems nervous to have all of her upper class friends following her to a general store.

But you’re pulled off by your armpits as the twins drag you out of the apartment, throwing your shoes at you while they chant, “Commoner’s supermarket, commoner’s supermarket!”

Honey skips out, still holding Mori’s hand, singing along with them.

But Kyoya stays behind for a moment, turning to catch the honor student as she grabs her purse. “(Y/n) mentioned that she had fun at your slumber party.”

Haruhi’s eyebrows shot straight up for a second before registering that Kyoya was actually talking to her about a sleepover, before shoving the rest of her stuff into her bag. “Yeah? Well, it’s good to hear you guys are talking to each other again.”

“Mm. We are.” The Ootori son clears his throat. “But, lately, she has been bringing up some, might I say, interesting points of conversation.”

Haruhi was still giving him that look. The look that told him to get to the point. “Okay?”

“Excuse me if I’m overstepping, but has (Y/n) brought up your love life at all?” He asks, and he fights the uncomfortable feeling he gets about intruding on Haruhi’s romantic life. He would not be interested at all if he wasn’t trying to solve his own problem.

“Mine?” Haruhi laughs. “Like, who I have a crush on?”

“Exactly.” Kyoya skirts around the awkwardness. “Unfortunately, she has been talking quite a bit about who you are interested in, and I’d like to find out why.”

“I guess it is weird that she’s suddenly focused on that.” She says, still chuckling. But the humor dies down, and to Kyoya’s satisfaction, she nods her head in confirmation. “Actually, she did bring it up last night. We were just making cookies, and she was asking if I liked anyone.”

“Really?” The megane leans against her kitchen counter.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, it was a little sudden. Like she had been waiting to ask me the whole day.” She packs away a chapstick.

“What did she say?”

Her mouth twists distastefully. “That’s private, Senpai.”

Gray eyes squint behind his glasses. Reaching into his vest pocket, he reveals a glinting blue credit card, contrasting from the gold one he presented earlier. “What if I pay for your groceries, and anything else you may need from this commoner’s supermarket?”

She gapes a little at the sheer elegance the credit card exhibits before sighing. “I’m only telling you because you two are close, or at least you used to be. And, I’m a little curious too, if I’m honest.”

Kyoya nodded, even though she hadn’t denied his offer.

Haruhi throws her bag onto her shoulder. “She was just saying things like, ‘oh, if you did like anybody, I’d be excited and try to push you two together’! But she did not look excited at all.”

“Huh.” He hums, his fingers framing his chin.

“She told me you guys got in a fight, though.”

Those fingers move up his face to rub his forehead. “We did. It’s been resolved.”

“Has it?” There’s a glint in her irises, and Kyoya adds her to the list of over-observant people in the Host Club.

Before he can reply, she’s pushing him out the door. “Let me know what’s going on with her, and I’ll let you know what she tells me. We can tag team it.”

“As much as I despise that term, I agree with your partnership.” He says, holding down the railing as he walks into the cool spring air. “I have a plan.”

“Of course you do.” Haruhi then turns back into the apartment, noticing something inside and leaves the door open to investigate. Kyoya looks at the small group of impatient hosts who are still avoiding the obvious gawks from other common people, and sees Tamaki is missing. Must be who Haruhi saw inside.

When he finally makes it to the bottom of the stairs, he sees you and the twins huddled together, talking in hushed voices. He strains his ears, but he can barely make out any of the words that you’re saying. But it seems secretive and suspicious. Terms that have been describing you as of late.

The twins’ faces were blanched, shaking their heads as it looks like you are trying to convince them of something, your stature smart and confident. The Ootori son inches closer.

“But why would he want that?” Hikaru whispers, grimacing. “I can’t see it.”

“No, no. It’s true. I can’t tell you how I know, but I know.” You say, pulling them in closer. “And it’s up to us to make it happen.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Kaoru asks, ginger eyebrows tying together.

“Do you guys want in or not?” You ask, exasperated.

The twins look at each other and shrug. “Guess it couldn’t hurt. We’re bored, anyways.”

Suddenly, a thud is heard back at Haruhi’s apartment, and Kyoya realizes that the pair of president and honor-student never returned down the steps.

You meet his eyes, breaking from your huddle and walking towards him. “Did Haruhi come down with you?”

“No.” He shakes his head, and the rest of the Host Club briskly walks up the rest of the stairs. “But she did idiotically leave her door open. Anyone could’ve walked in.”

The twins are hurrying up the steps, and even Kyoya feels his confusion fuel into his thighs, pressing urgency into each stair as they rush to the top.

But when Hikaru and Kaoru make it to the doorway of Haruhi’s apartment, their worried faces morph into confused expressions.

“Hey boss, what in the world is taking you so long?”

And when Kyoya finally rounds the edge of the entrance into the honor student’s living space, he sees a red-haired individual picking up Haruhi off the floor, their president smashed face first into the mats on the floor.

The Hitachiian brothers snicker, and Kaoru’s smile grows a little bigger. “Woah, check it out. This person is Haruhi’s father.”

Tamaki growls at the boys while Kyoya tries to put together how he had gotten beat up in the first place. By Haruhi’s father, no less.

“Hikaru, Kaoru!” Tamaki whines. “Help me out here!”

The gingered devils ignore him, most likely remembering their mission to not embarrass Haruhi. They walk over Tamaki, holding out their hands like perfect gentlemen.

“It’s nice to meet you, Haruhi's dad. We’re good friends of your daughter’s, the Hitachiian brothers!”

“So you cross dress, do you?” Hikaru asks.

“You’re the first man we’ve seen to wear women’s clothes and actually pull it off!” Kaoru compliments, ignoring the fact that they just dressed up like women a week prior.

And just when Kyoya connects the dots on the Tamaki-shaped hole in the wall, a blushing Haruhi, and an angry father, both brother’s turn to the prince under their feet. “You finally put the moves on Haruhi, didn’t you boss?”

Annoyed, they turn their bright smiles back to Haruhi’s dad. “Sorry about him, he’s a ladies man, if you know what I mean.”

“He’s a pheromone machine. In fact, he’s fooled around with more ladies than you can count!”

Kyoya hears you chuckle next to him, putting your face in your hands to hide your smile.

“He likes to fool around, huh?” Haruhi’s dad stands to his full height. His body type was lean, and his red wig looks real as it flows around his shoulders. His simple outfit of a skirt, shirt, and a shall wraps around his body as he frowns at the boy still getting stomped by the twins.

But the blonde pushes them off, desperate to clear his name. “No! I’m not a ladies man! I’m a nice guy! I care about her!”

You and the ravenet meet eyes when he sees Haruhi’s shoulders tense. You lean over, and he sees you watching him carefully. “Is he confessing his love for her?”

Tamaki drops to his knees, bowing respectfully to his elder. “I’m being completely honest here. I care about Haruhi like she is my own daughter.”

The Host Club deflates, rolling their eyes and grumbling under their breaths. Kyoya shrugged, giving you a side glance. “I suppose we aren’t at that part in the storyline.”

But the older man just hums, meeting the eyes of each host club member. “I get it. You must be the host club I’ve heard so much about.” Then a twinkle shines in his eye. “You certainly are a fine group of men.” He winks at you. “And women.”

A smile comes to your lips, and you shake your head.

“Why don’t we all sit down and get to know each other, hm?” Haruhi’s dad suggests, a sickly sweet smile presenting on his face. He gestures back to the table, cake crumbs still scattered across it. “My home is your home.”

Kyoya bows slightly, putting on his ‘perfect son’ routine. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

You walk over to the man, giving his make-up a once over. “See? I told you the purple eyeshadow would work, Ranka.”

“Ranka?” Honey-senpai questions as the hosts make their way to the table.

“Oh, yes.” As everyone settles into their spots, Kyoya sits straight on Ranka’s left, while you take a seat to his right. “That is the professional name that I use at the bar that I work at.”

“Like a stage name?” Honey-senpai asks, big brown eyes looking at him from across the table’s surface.

“Exactly like that, Mitsukuni.”

Kyoya simpers proudly while the martial arts master cocks his head. “Hold on. How do you know my name, sir?”

Ranka simply smiles. “You two are third years Mitsukuni Haninosuka and Takashi Morinozuka.” He states, gesturing to the kendo legends.

Then he begins to move down the line. “And the two of you are first-years in the same class as Haruhi, you’re the Hitachiian twins! But, I’m not sure which one is which.” He admits. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Hikaru and Kaoru light up. “Wait, so Haruhi told you about us?”

Ranka holds his hands up in surrender. “No, no. Kyoya told me all about all of you over the phone!”

The ravenet smiles, and he presses his palms against Ranka’s. “You really are a beautiful person, Ranka.”

Haruhi’s dad blushes. “You’re too kind. And too handsome!” To Kyoya’s only slight surprise, Ranka then turns to you.

“And your updates, (Y/n), are also incredibly helpful.” Then the red-haired man leans towards you. “Although, you did fail to tell me how much of an idiot your president was.”

The Idiotic Trio blanches blanches, and you knowingly pat Ranka on the shoulder. “He is an acquired taste.”

Then, you lean around Ranka to get a better look at the club’s director. “You know Ranka?” You ask.

Kyoya picks up his tea, pristinely placing the porcelain in his palm. “We’ve been entrusted with the care of his precious daughter. It is only natural that we introduce ourselves and give him periodic reports.”

“Say what?!” The club exclaims.

“Kyoya!” His best friend whines, and a hand grips his shoulder.

But he just sips his tea, sighing into the steam. “Ordinarily, that would be your job, wouldn’t it?” The pale hand recoils as Tamaki sinks back into his sob corner. Mushrooms begin to sprout on Haruhi’s walls.

Speaking of the honor student. “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting calls from Kyoya-senpai, Dad? You never mentioned this to me.” She shouts.

“Awe, what am I supposed to do, Haruhi? You rarely tell me anything about school! I have to get it from these two, or else I get nothing at all!”

“So that makes it okay to talk behind my back?” Irritated, the honor student turns to Tamaki, plucking fungus out of the walls. “C’mon, Senpai, would you please stop growing mushrooms in other people’s closets?”

But she is swept up by her adoring father, who coos at her irked mood. “But Haruhi, you’re cute even when you’re angry!”

With Ranka up and away from the group, he meets your eye.

“You know, Haruhi’s dad has always reminded me of someone.” You say, watching as Haruhi tries to pry her dad off of her.

Kyoya nods in agreement, and he could nearly laugh at the longing look on Tamaki’s face. “It explains why she handles our prince so well.”

Finally, Haruhi is able to push her dad off. She huffs, adjusting the strap on her bag and putting her short brown hair back into alignment. With an angry grunt, she spins towards the door, to her father’s dismay.

“Wait, Haruhi!” He calls. “Where are you going?”

“To the supermarket, alright?” Haruhi’s voice is short. “I have to go shopping so that I can make lunch for you all.”

The host club stands, and you part from the boys. “Do you want someone to go with you?”

Haruhi’s brown eyes scan meaningfully along the line up of her friends, and she rolls her eyes. “Fine. Only (Y/n) can come.”

You stutter. “Are you sure you want me? I was thinking maybe Tamaki, or even Kyoya could–”

“(Y/n), either you come with me, or I go alone.” Haruhi had already made up her mind.

“No, no. I’m going, I’m going.” You say, and skip past the host club.

“What?!” Kaoru shrieks as you make your way across the living room, giving them a smug smile, and Kyoya folds his arms.

“Wait!” Hikaru calls. “We want to go see the commoner’s supermarket.” But you and Haruhi were already out the door.

Ranka deflates next to him. “I wouldn’t push it. Once she’s made up her mind, she’ll never change it. When she decided she wanted to go to Ouran Academy, she did all the enrollment paperwork herself.”

He sighs, and Kyoya watches as he rakes red hair back behind his ear. “‘While I respect her independent spirit, I wish she’d be a little more dependent on me sometimes.”

Around Kyoya, the hosts look up to Ranka with stars in their eyes, the ravenet with a more respectful stare. The man pulling off a women’s jacket begins to tell a story of Haruhi’s independence that leaves a proud shine within the Host Club, one where she neglected to tell her dad about Career Day at her school, just so he could have a day off.

He sighs again, his voice a little higher pitched than most men. “I just hope you boys know how grateful I am. Since she has found you all and (Y/n), she seems to be happier. She is enjoying herself, wouldn’t you agree, Tamaki Suoh?”

Tamaki plucks his head out of the mushroom closet. “You know who I am?”

Ranka rolls his eyes. “Of course I do. Haruhi has told me a thing or two about you. You’re the host club’s bumbling president, aren’t you?”

Kyoya’s best friend sobs happily, and the ravenet takes another sip of tea. Ranka follows his example.

“Come to think of it,” Haruhi’s dad continues. “You’re the one who didn’t realize that Haruhi was a girl until the very last moment. You’re clueless, aren’t you? Pretty pathetic.”

Kyoya resists from sputtering a laugh into his tea when Tamaki slinks back into his depression, you being out of range to comfort him in his state of despair.

Ranka’s tea cup clinks back onto the table. “Now that we’ve gotten all the introductions out of the way, how would you boys like to have a little fun?”

By fun, the last thing Kyoya expected from a man who works in a bar so flamboyant was to be following his daughter and her best friend to the supermarket.

But here he was, barely even trying to be secretive as they ducked behind a streetlight, a bored sigh blowing out of his lips. The sun reflected off his glasses and his black locks, the muscles in his jaw working to hide his disinterest. People around them were still gawking at them, and while Kyoya was used to being in the spotlight, it wasn’t the most ideal situation.

He was trying to concentrate, after all.

He cursed himself for not being able to read lips as well as his brothers, another aspect in which he was inferior to them. If he hadn’t focused so much on his academics when he was younger, he would know what you and Haruhi were talking about, and he could put this all to rest.

It was obvious you were talking about Haruhi’s love life again. The slight blush on her cheeks and the way she grimaced as you playfully prodded her side with your elbow gave that away. And he supposed it wasn’t too out of the ordinary. You two were very close, even more so after what had happened on the beach. Naturally, he was sure romantic relationships would come up eventually.

But clearly, it was making Haruhi more than a little uncomfortable. Haruhi was a patient person, due to the extravagant person she was raised by, but you were starting to get to the edge of her patience, it seemed. Kyoya regarded the honor student putting her hand on your shoulder, stopping you mid-sentence, and most likely telling you, in the calmest way possible, to change the topic.

Your shoulders dropped as you realized you had pushed a boundary, and a sheepish smile quirked your lips. He could make out your apology, at least, and then he lost his intrigue as you both probably moved on to something that wouldn’t benefit him.

“Who’re you looking at? Hm?” Kyoya heard two voices on either side of his shoulders, and he suppressed a groan.

“What’re you two talking about?” The ravenet grumbled.

Hikaru snickered. “You seem pretty absorbed in our two girls over there.”

“But which one were you spying on?” Kaoru teased.

Rolling his eyes, Kyoya kept a neutral demeanor. “Are we not supposed to be spying on these two? I am only following Ranka’s direction.”

“I don’t know…” Kaoru’s voice carries a sing-song-like mockery.

Hikaru laughed, grabbing onto his shoulder. “There’s definitely something different about the way you’re doin’ it. Like you’re looking for something.”

Kyoya shrugs him off. “I’m not looking for anything. Don’t act like idiots in front of our elders.” Luckily, the rest of the group was far enough ahead to where Kyoya didn’t have to worry about accidentally embarrassing himself.

“It’s Haruhi, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you like her, right?”

As they walked, Kyoya narrowly avoided stumbling over the uneven concrete. “I’m sorry?”

The twins sigh. “We wouldn’t blame you. Just know that we would kill you if you did anything to hurt her.”

“And the Boss might just completely eradicate you from existence for touching his little girl. But, you know, nothing to worry about.”

“My god.” Kyoya’s throat is dry from the surprise, his mouth contorting in distaste. “You two truly need to find another game to play. This one is just distasteful.”

Their confident smirks begin to falter. “Oh, come on, Shadow King, you can tell us.”

“Yeah, we won’t say a word.”

The megane keeps his voice level, sighing himself back to a point of equilibrium. “I am not an instrument for your entertainment.”

Before they can say anything else, you and Haruhi turn a corner, motivating their group of spies to change positions. Ranka waves everyone over as they cross the street, crowding the boys behind a separate street light. Kyoya makes sure to plant himself near Tamaki and Haruhi’s father, pushing the twins to the back.

They still manage to make themselves heard, to his aggravation.

“So,” Hikaru calls. “We’re just going to follow her to the supermarket?”

Kyoya hums, leaning against the wall framing the sidewalk. “This is what you meant by fun?”

Ranka nods happily. “I call it the stalking game.”

A few more people pass them on the other side of the street, their eyes basically turning into stars as they bask in the beauty of the host club. One woman turns to her friend, her voice hushed and giddy.

“What an attractive group of young men!”

Her friend is just as amazed. “Do you think they’re T.V. stars?”

Hearing their conversation, Ranka basks in the attention. “In all honesty,” He starts, a wistful breath blowing into the spring air. “I have a completely selfish reason for bringing you all out with me.”

Ranka pries his sunglasses off in a dramatic fashion. Very Tamaki-esque. “I want to be seen with a bunch of cute boys!”

Haurhi’s dad has the same gleam in his eye that Tamaki equips nearly every morning when the Host Club door opens, and Kyoya can’t help but think that these two are definitely cut from the same cloth.

You and Haruhi then make another turn, causing the group to shift their places again. Huffing, Kyoya crosses with them, but he is surprised when Ranka falls back to walk with him.

“Ranka.” Kyoya greets, placing a polite smile on his lips. There is a glint in the man’s eyes that Kyoya doesn’t appreciate, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“I just wanted to thank you, again, for keeping me in the loop with my daughter.” Ranka says. “It has really kept me from going crazy with worry.”

The club’s director hums. “It’s no problem at all. Anything the Host Club can do to keep your peace of mind.” Kyoya chuckles. “If only I’d known (Y/n) was doing something similar, I wouldn’t have bothered you as often.”

But Ranka shoos his worries away. “Don’t apologize. It’s good to see that Haruhi has two people looking out for her. That (Y/n) is truly great for my little girl. I can see why you speak about her so highly.”

The sun’s ray catches Kyoya lenses a little too sharply for a moment. “Well, I’m sure anyone you speak to about (Y/n) would discuss her with similar praise.”

Ranka’s lips fold between his teeth as he shakes his head, rubbing his lipstick as he thinks. “Mm, I don’t know. She tends to pop up into our conversations quite often.”

Kyoya’s attention draws back to you, your form trailing toward the entrance into the supermarket. “I don’t think–”

“Awe, and the way she goes on and on about you.” Ranka gasps, cupping one of his cheeks as he practically dances while he walks. “I would absolutely melt if someone spoke about me that way.”

The megane’s gaze snaps to the man. “Really? Well, I’m afraid to ask what she says. I didn’t realize she spoke about me.” His heart hammers in his chest.

Ranka lets out a sad tune. “Well, she used to, anyway. Used to just ramble about that big project you and her are working on, and how grateful she was to be your partner through it.” Shaking his head, his red hair glints in the sunbeams. “But she hasn’t really said anything as of late.”

“I see.” He swallows the lump in his throat. Clearly, the fight you two had, or are currently in, is still affecting both of your lives. Guilt sticks to the bottom of his stomach, but he erases it. He was still in the right. “That might’ve been partly my doing.”

Of course he was right.

“So I’ve heard.” Ranka gives him a long look then, his voice dropping up and down in those dramatic octaves. “Curse that cliff, and curse men who don’t know how to treat good, beautiful women.”

“Agreed.”

“But also, curse grudges, dishonesty, and pride, hm? Curse anything that keeps us from being honest with the people we hold dear. And with ourselves.”

Kyoya's lips feel cracked in the gentle spring breeze as they part, and his glasses fall a little further down his nose. Ranka’s eyes aren’t as dark as Haruhi’s, but they melt into a toffee with the day’s warmth. A father, who has lost the woman he loves, regarding a student, but never just a student, who pushes people away for his own self-assurance. A look of deep understanding, and it almost knocks the director off of his feet.

But of course it doesn’t. Nothing could ever knock the Shadow King off balance.

Kyoya rights himself, rights the impossible war of pride versus insecurity, and smiles, pretending not to notice the sincerity in Ranka’s irises.

“Of course,” he says, stepping through the automatic doors of the supermarket and making a sharp turn. Away from the group, the pack of attractive men. He reads the back of product after product, busying himself with knowledge of a new thing. A new way of life that he could never, would never be a part of.

It’s truly an interesting, gratifying distraction.

“What aisle are they in?”

“Fourteen. In the back and to the right.”

You and Haruhi snicker slightly, keeping your gaze on the vegetables in front of you, mist lightly dripping off leaves of cabbage. The coolness from the refrigerator washes over the both of you as you secretly track the Host Club and Ranka, having spotted them the moment they stepped out of the Fujioka residence.

Haruhi sighs after her laughter dies down. “Geez, I don’t know why he feels like he has to follow me.” There’s love in her voice, but it isn’t without annoyance. “I can go shopping on my own.”

You nudge her shoulder with yours, reaching forward to examine a head of cabbage. “I think he’s just protective of you.”

“Right, because that’s what I need.” She snarks. “More protective men in my life.”

You both laugh again, and you feel the boys inch closer behind you. You can pretty much see them in the reflection of the glass behind the veggie display, Tamaki and Ranka more attentive than anyone else.

Kyoya leans his back against one of the aisle ends, his glasses hiding his eyes as he works to conceal that he is listening to Tamaki and Ranka’s conversation. But you can tell. The way his head leans down, but his torso slightly aims towards the over-the-top duo. It’s obvious.

Your eyes slide to the previously mentioned princes, the two looking soft and serious as they speak about Haruhi, most likely. “It’s nice that your dad is always looking out for you.”

The honor student sighs. “Sometimes it is, I guess. I just wish he gave himself a break.” Haruhi twiddles the leaf of a radish. “He just gets so worried, like he doesn’t think I can protect myself.”

A fond smile breaks out on her face. “One time, he did not hide himself very well. It was to the point where I couldn’t not catch him.” You chuckle. “He acted all embarrassed, saying that he just wanted to carry my shopping basket because of how much he loved accessories.”

Her eyes flick to her father’s reflection. “He’s so weird.”

“He sure is.” You agree, but you’re both grinning, watching Ranka argue with your president. “But he loves you. That’s clear, at least.”

Her smile softens. “I know.”

As you’re watching the pair, your eyes drift back to the club’s director. His lenses have cleared up, and you see his gaze meet yours in the mirror. Your eyes widen and you quickly look away.

“Shit.” You confess, chuckling. “I think Kyoya knows we see them.”

Haruhi just shrugs. “He probably doesn’t care about any of this.”

Your eyebrows crinkle. This whole day had been filled of pushing them together, getting at least one of your best friends to confess their feelings about each other to you but to no avail. It was a little hurtful, them being so secret about it even when Kyoya insisted that any official romantic relationship within the host club should be open and honest.

Maybe they were still figuring it out between them? Was the night at the beach the first time they had been that close?

Too be ruefully honest, you hoped so. To think that there were other intimate moments previous to that one, overlapping with the soft, flirty memories that you held so dearly with your megane, it pinched your heartstrings.

“He cares more than you think he does.” You say sincerely, giving her the best comforitng smile you could muster. “He just likes to pretend he doesn’t.”

“Probably because he truly couldn’t care less.” And Haruhi’s laughing, shaking her head as she completely disreagrds his care for her. Care that he has made clear on his own bedsheets. “Kyoya was most likely dragged along with Tamaki’s antics.”

Huffing, you angle your body towards her. “I don’t think so. His motivations aren’t always so…superficial.”

Haruhi gives you a confused glance. “I know that. But, in this case?” Her tone is humorful. “He’s definitely marking the nearest exits. Did you see how early it was when he showed up with the other’s at my door? Poor guy looked like he was dragged out of his bed.”

“Or,” You start, folding your arms across your chest. “He woke up early to come see you.”

“Are we talking about the same Kyoya-senpai?” She says, but her smile isn’t as easy as she senses your irritation.

“Yes. I’m just wondering, there couldn’t be any other reason he was suddenly at your door with all his friends this morning?”

Haruhi’s brown eyes are suddenly exhausted, and she rolls them so hard, she could’ve pulled a muscle. “Again, (Y/n)? It hasn’t even been half an hour. You said you would drop it.”

“No, I know.” You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m trying to understand.”

“Understand what?”

Your attention darts back to the reflection in the glass, seeing that the hosts have distracted themselves with something else. The twins are ogling over the stacks of instant coffee, Mori is pushing Honey-senpai in a shopping cart, and Tamaki and Ranka are still at each other’s throats.

Well, Ranka is the one baring his teeth. Tamaki is just crying, clearly upset about the lack of acceptance from Haruhi’s dad.

Most importantly, Kyoya is elsewhere, scanning his gray eyes over two for one coupons, and probably internally gawking at how a company would voluntarily lose money in favor of their customers.

“Haruhi,” You say, exhaling. “You’re my best friend.”

The honor student faces you fully. She wraps her arms around her torso, her empty shopping basket hanging off her elbow. “I know that. You’re mine, too.”

“Well, I thought that meant that you’d be completely honest with me.” Your voice is gentle, forgiving as you reach out to her. “And you would know that I couldn’t be angry with you even if I tried.”

“Honest with you? And why would you be angry with me?” You could tell this took her aback. Haruhi had been called many things in her youth, but she had never been accused of being dishonest.

“I’m not. I could never be. So, when you keep secrets from me, it makes me wonder if I’m a bad friend. Or if I’ve done something that would make you feel uncomfortable opening up to me.”

“What do you mean when I keep secrets?” Haruhi asks, and she uncrosses her arms, putting one hand on her hip.

You give her a blank stare, giving up your facade. “C’mon, Haru. I know.”

Haruhi doesn’t say anything for a moment, waiting for you to explain yourself. When you just stand there, looking at her expectantly, she gives in. “Know what?”

You groan, putting a hand over your eyes. “Haruhi.”

“I’m serious! I truly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“See? This is what I’m talking about!” You say, keeping your voice at a reasonable level. You weren’t angry, just being upfront and truthful, like how Haruhi usually is with you. “You don’t have to save my feelings, Haru. I’m fine with it, I promise.”

“Fine with what?” Haruhi emphasizes that last word, annoyance lacing her tone. “I’m serious, I have no idea what you’re talking about. If I’m keeping something from you, I’m clearly doing a very good job. So good, in fact, that I, I don’t know, purged it from my own memory.”

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

“(Y/n), you have too.” The brunette pleads. “I’m so confused.”

Your jaw ticks, and you heave out a sigh. “I know you like him.”

Haruhi just shakes her head. “Like who?”

You take another peak at the reflection, making sure no one is paying attention. “Kyoya.”

The supermarket has never felt so silent. Even has customers move around the two of you, even as Ranka begins pulling Tamakis cheeks apart, the way Haruhi stays perfectly still brings all bustle around you to a pseudo pause. Whether it was her shock, or your anticipation, even the air managed to stay perfectly still.

Then the misters for the vegetables turn on. And Haruhi bursts out laughing.

The hand on her hip holds her side, as if every muscles in her body is physically rejecting any romantic thought about the club’s director. The sound rings throughout the aisles, and the men behind you pause at the sound, basking in it before resuming their one-sided argument.

Really, Ranka was just enjoying torturing Tamaki at this point.

Collecting the tears in her eyes, Haruhi has a hard time speaking through her laughter. “Oh my god, (Y/n), you really had me going there.”

“I don’t get the joke.” Your voice is monotone, a single note on a piece of sheet music.

“You looked so serious, I thought something was wrong!’” Another bout of giggles. “But god, me and Kyoya. Me and Kyoya?”

“But why do you think it’s funny?” You say over her humor. “I think you two…you know…” Waving your hand, you fill the empty space awkwardly. “...would be good together.’

“No, no we wouldn’t.” She still can’t get over it. “Hell could freeze over, (Y/n), and somehow, it would be my responsibility to pay for it when it comes to Kyoya-senpai.”

You point to her shaking form, punctuating each syllable, trying to pierce her laughter. “You like him.”

“Not in a million years.”

“And he likes you.” You say, slightly less confident.

Her brown eyes meets yours, and they’re full of mirth. “How could you think that? With the way he dove off a cliff for you? Kyoya is a very one track minded individual. When he wants something, it’s very hard for him to desire something else.”

Hope bubbles into the chambers of your heart before you pop them, shaking your head. “No, no, but I…” You drop your voice, encouraging Haruhi to come closer. “I saw you.”

“You’re still not making sense.” She says, looking at you the way she does with her father, or Tamaki. Like someone she loves is being very dramatic and strange. “And I passed honors calculus.”

“Haru.” Your voice is suddenly very serious, and you realize that as blunt and intelligent as Haruhi is, she is also incredibly oblivious. “I saw you two. On the bed.”

Her smile drops.

“What?” There is a dumbfounded look in her eyes, and you take her shoulder in comfort.

“It’s okay! That night, at the beach, I saw you both on his bed when I came to return his medkit.” You push the dread, sadness and horror deeper into yourself, keeping a reassuring visage. “Really, it’s okay. I just wished you had told me that you liked him. I wouldn’t have been so open about my own crush.”

Her irises flick between both of yours, a different kind of surprise taking root in the air around you. She watches as you shrug sheepishly, embarrassment and forced joy resonating in your posture.

“God,” Haruhi starts, and she wants to shake you so hard that your head nearly falls off your shoulders. Lovingly, of course. “(Y/n), no, that’s–”

A blur of blonde interrupts her sentence as Tamaki stumbles between the two of you. Both of you watch as his body splays out onto the supermarket floor, his chin hitting the tile with a smack.

“What the–?” Haruhi asks, feeling whiplash. But Tamaki very suddenly rights himself, his hand coming to rub the back of his hair, which has mushrooms growing in it again. He turns to face Haruhi fully, completely shadowing you.

“Oops!” He exclaims, the prince’s voice rising to a level of higpitched performance. “Oh, it looks like you caught me Haruhi!” Tamaki brings his hands together, clapping. “I followed you here so that I could carry your shopping basket.”

But Haruhi is trying to move around the president, a very urgent matter needing her attention. “Sorry, Tamaki-senpai, but I need you to move–”

The very, very tall man – seriously, Haruhi forgot how much taller Tamaki was –, blocks her path, still trying to make amends. “Now, now, Haruhi, hand it over.” Suoh reaches his hand out for her basket. “You know how Daddy likes accessories!”

Finally, Haruhi pushes around him, but she sighs.

You were gone. And she guessed you didn’t want to be found.

Hanging her head, she looks to Tamaki, who is blushing from both ends of his ears, and the sight takes the edge off her mood. Gracefully, she hands him the basket, a small smile coming to her lips. “You’re so weird.”

Tamaki’s blush fades, and a more sincere grin paints his face. Then, he eyes the basket.

“Haruhi, did you know that this was empty?”

Scoffing, she turns back to the vegetables, still looking over her shoulder to find a glance of your fleeting shadow. “Yeah, I just got preoccupied.”

She turns to him. “Plus, I haven’t figured out what to make everybody. We’ve never had this many people over before.”

Tamaki puts a long finger to his lips. “How about…a stew pot? One with lots of meat in it.” Then he has a thought. “And no chrysanthemum.”

Her full attention is on Tamaki now, the way the mushrooms bob in his hair. “Yeah, that could work. It is kind of warm for it, though.”

She made it anyway.

Soon the entire host club sits around her table. The boys feast, growing students needing at least enough fuel for a large animal. Or two.

And as Ranka sets plenty of chrysanthemum onto Tamaki’s stew, Haruhi keeps catching awkward, soft glances between the two of you. She was so caught up in making lunch, or dinner at this point, that she hadn’t been able to clear anything up between you two.

And her heart broke.

You had saw that moment. That stupid, insignificant moment between her and the spectacled director and had assumed the complete wrong idea. But you were trying to be strong for her.

She knew immediately that’s why you had been acting so intense and weird lately. Why you had ignored her the week prior. There was probably a storm of conflicting emotions in your mind, and in your heart, hot anger and cold disassociating swirling together to make a tornado of anxiety and hurt.

She would fix it. She had too.

But the real problem was whether or not you would give her the chance.

Sharply, you stood up from the table, your portion of the stew still halfway filing your makeshift bowl. “My driver is here.” You explain sheepishly, feeling bad for having to leave early. “My parents come home tonight, and my mom wants me to be there to greet her.”

The Host Club bid you farewell, and Haruhi catches the sharp once over Kyoya gives you as you walk out the door.

Then everyone else is leaving, to Haruhi’s gratitude. Her personal life had a maximum capacity, just like her living quarters, and her friends had unknowingly exceeded it.

But as the boys begin to leave, with Ranka ushering them out the door and outside to bask in the attention they gave him, Haruhi pulls on Kyoya’s sleeve.

The lanky man turns, his dark eyebrow quirking up. “Ah, my teammate.” His cool voice brushes over the walls, and Haruhi has a second urge to shake someone. Specifically him, for being so stupid and impulsive. “Did you find something out?”

She doesn’t waste time. “(Y/n) knows.”

That quirked eyebrow sews together with the one adjacent. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Kyoya-senpai, (Y/n) saw us that night on the beach. When you threw me on your bed like a lunatic.”

Kyoya’s jaw muscles spark. “That’s impossible, no one could’ve seen that.”

“(Y/n) did.” Haruhi insisted, swallowing the dread. “I guess she was trying to return your medkit, or whatever, and she saw us. And she thought–”

“She thought we were together.” Kyoya finishes, every dot connecting like a constellation in his mind. “That’s why she was asking about your love life, why she was complimenting you, putting you on a pedestal. She thinks that we are together, but that we are hiding it.”

The megane is frigid, still, but nothing about his energy is peaceful. He is calculating, putting together the entire equation. It’s like it’s finally all written out for him, the chalkboard littered with his work as his hands are dusty and cracked.

You were mad at him. Because you felt he lead you on. Because he nearly kissed you on the beach, and then was seen hovering over another, covered in satin.

“Thank you, Haruhi.” His usually deep voice was rough as he stepped out the door. “You were very helpful.”

With that, the Shadow King exits the Fujioka residence.

Next Time on Lavender Roses!

“We didn’t know you had a little sister, Boss!”

“As of today, I will be your big brother!”

“So, how’re you gonna fix this?”

Big Brother is a Prince!

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