[Ouran] Intrusion

[Ouran] Intrusion

Characters: Haruhi, Morinozuka (Mori), Tamaki.
Rating: G, safe for work
Word count: 1,528

Summary: Haruhi dislikes intrusions. Or more specifically, she dislikes intrusion into her private life, and the Host Club is nothing but intrusive. Haruhi reflects on Mori and Tamaki.

Possible pairing study piece. (Ah, young love. ^_^) One shot, complete.
Dedicated to celes_grant, for being the fellow OMGOURAN partner in squee ^_~.


Haruhi dislikes intrusions. Or more specifically, she dislikes intrusion into her private life, and the Host Club is nothing but intrusive. Her neighborhood has been talking of nothing but their latest visit for days, her landlady has been gushing non-stop about Tamaki-senpai, the girls who live one floor below are demanding to know when the twins will be back, and more than one person has asked her for Kyouya-senpai’s phone number.

“You’re so lucky!” all the girls squeal, when they find out that she goes to the same school as these oh so handsome boys, who would even make a special trip down to visit her.

Some days, Haruhi thinks that she would pay those girls to get the Host Club out of her life forever. Especially after they ruin her summer holiday.


But that thought is always followed by a pang of ... something. Guilt, maybe. The tickling little feeling that she’d like a few days away, or a week, or even a month to study for finals, but she looks at their beaming faces and that thought seems to melt away like a perfect snowflake in the noonday sun.

Still, she reflects, as she clears the latest batch of Tamaki grown mushrooms out of the storage room. It would be nice if they would learn to respect boundaries.


It therefore comes as no surprise to her to find that, as the days turn into weeks turn into months, that the one person in the Host Club she begins to feel the most comfortable with isn’t Tamaki, isn’t either half of the pair of twins, certainly isn’t Kyouya... but...

But Mori-senpai.

Quiet, unobtrusive, undemanding, he’s perhaps the only one in the Host Club who will let her be, who will accept her without reservation, who will be the solid wall of support she can depend on in times of need without asking anything from her.

He’s almost the opposite of Tamaki, who alternates between insisting that she act like a girl and protecting her dignity, uncertain even of what he wants of her. He is the silence where Tamaki is noise and action and disruption and Haruhi doesn’t want any more disruption in her life, thank you. And she still recalls, with a fond smile on her face, that it was Mori-senpai who rescued her from Tamaki’s exuberance on the very first day she met the Host Club.

When their guests squeal with delight over the ‘discovery’ that the love of Mori’s life is apparently Honey, Haruhi finds herself smiling.

She still doesn’t know how they met, but the connection between Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai isn’t something that can be so easily categorised. She’s not sure what’s there herself, but when Mori gives away the strawberries on his pastry, it’s not to Honey.


Yet, she realises, as she considers the subject with what may be a tingle of growing certainty and growing apprehension at the same time, that she doesn’t know anything about Mori. His secrets are shielded behind the silence that he wears, more impenetrable than even Kyouya’s walls. He is an enigma that just seems to be waiting to be unfurled, and suddenly, she finds that her curiosity is peaked.

Surely you’re not attracted to him, she chides herself, as she knots the uniform tie around her neck.

But she finds herself stuttering when she asks him if she can follow him to kendo practice.

“Of course,” he murmurs, a hand on her shoulder and a tiny smile on his face, and for a moment she is caught by that dark gaze, unable to breathe.


His technique is beautiful, and Haruhi gapes in wonder at the smooth strokes of his warm ups, a wonder that turns into sheer amazement as she watches him spar later. He is lightning fast, his sword a blur as he counters a blow and feints, and finishes off his opponent with a stroke powerful to send the other flying.

He stands in silence for a while before turning to look at her, and she returns a smile and wave, mouthing her congratulations. And there is nothing but the quiet thrill of birdsong, the sigh of wind through the branches, and whisper of the grass as it bends in the breeze.

“HARUHI!”

And the silence is shattered.

“What are you doing here?!”

She doesn’t know how Tamaki-senpai managed to cross the entire length of the field that fast, but suddenly, he’s there beside her, gasping for breath, blue eyes wide. He glances between Mori and her, and back again, before arriving at entirely the wrong conclusion: “YOU CAN’T QUIT THE HOST CLUB AND TAKE UP KENDO!!”

“Senpai,” she sighs. “The Host Club isn’t open today. I--“

He’s on his knees before her now, tears starting to form -- she never did figure out whether he uses eyedrops or not -- “Have we let you down? Have we not been good enough for you?”

“Tamaki-senpai,” she sighs, louder this time. “I was just watching. Besides,” and she puts on a cheerful little smile. “I still haven’t paid off my debt.”

Tamaki’s on his feet in a flash, beaming. “That’s right! You still--“

“It’s late,” Mori’s deep voice cuts through his babble. He glances pointedly at the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

“It’s late,” Haruhi says, glancing gratefully at him for the rescue. “And I should be heading home.” I need to cook dinner, finish up that assignment, revise for the test on Friday...

“Daddy will give you a lift!” Tamaki volunteers, and she shakes her head violently.

“I’ve told you before, senpai. No thank you. I’m going home on my own.” She gives them both a little wave before turning pointedly away. The dark clouds brood like vultures behind her.



She gets home before it rains. In fact, it doesn’t rain until it’s fairly late, and her father has gone to work. But then, it not only rains but pours. And pours. And turns within minutes into a full-fledged thunderstorm.

To her credit, she doesn’t dive behind the dining table until the third flash. When the next bolt seems to crack directly overhead, the crash of thunder loud enough to make the windows rattle, she almost heads for the wardrobe.

The chime of the doorbell stops her. She finds herself frozen, halfway across the living room, and caught in a terrible dilemma, can’t move can’t think can’t--

At the next crash, she almost shrieks, trips over the table and goes head over heels. The doorknob rattles furiously, and there’s someone calling her name, over and over: “Haruhi! Haruhi! Open the door!”

Pull yourself together.

Her common sense arrives late at the scene. The sweeping wash of rain across the rooftop makes it impossible to identify the voice of the visitor, but she figures inanely that the way the wind is gusting he’s going to be soaked and it’s bad manners to leave him out there...

Somehow she moves. Somehow she pulls herself together long enough to stumble across the room, banging her shin against the table again in the process. She fumbles with the lock and yanks the door open, seeing a flash of familiar blond, concerned blue, and, of all things, a door gift tucked under one arm...

And she can’t find anything to say, torn between ordering him to leave and asking him to stay.

And lightning crashes, and she finds herself instinctively diving forward instead, the words twisting away. A warm arm catches her, pulls her in, and she finds her face pressed to Tamaki’s soaking shirt, fingers twining in the wet fabric--

--when he slips on all the water and they both go over, her with a squeak and him with a wail, and the box goes flying.



They share the dessert later when the rain has stopped, when Tamaki has had a chance to come in and dry himself off, when they’ve laughed off the fears and the awkwardness. The cakes are slightly soggy, slightly worse for the tumble. Not unlike senpai, she thinks, noting rumpled shirt and mussed hair.

“Why did you come?” she finds herself mumbling. There’s no Host Club to make an ill-timed entrance this time to lighten the situation. There’s no excuse for her to brush it off with some off-hand comment. There is nothing to distract her from the beginnings of a realisation that, despite all those years training herself not to rely on anyone, it is rather nice to have someone here...

This is the one time she’d appreciate an intrusion, but none is forthcoming. It’s just her, and Tamaki-senpai, and suddenly nothing she’s figured out makes sense any more.

Tamaki smiles, wrapping fingers around a cup of steaming green tea. “I did say I would try to be here for you from now on.”

Abashed, she turns her attention to the cake. When she realises that they are the ones with fresh strawberries on top, just like the ones she liked so much the last time, a lump seems to stick in her throat.

And for the first time, she wonders if Tamaki’s intrusion into her life may not be such a bad thing after all.


END