Someday, she knows, the music room will be emptied out and their fanciful costumes will be closeted, or auctioned off as souvenirs; someday a sheet will be thrown over Tamaki's grand piano, and even Kyoya's endless clipboards will have to be put to rest, when all accounts are covered and every last penny is properly allocated. Someday she will step into this place and it will smell of dust instead of flowers, and the only reminder that the Host Club ever existed will be the marks on the wall where Nekozawa once nailed a Belzenuf doll, the tea-stains on the curtain from that time when Honey burnt his thumb, and the graffiti of the twins on the floor of the far-left corner, because they wanted to see just how "permanent" permanent markers were.

Someday she will walk in here and there will be no more ringing laughter and delighted giggling, no more amorous whispers and silly play-acting. Somebody might see fit to decorate the place with a few potted plants, but there will be no more lavish theater sets, and certainly no more actors to play the parts.

Someday everything will be greatly altered. She knows this, because circumstances change; people change; people grow apart, and realize that they have other duties to attend to, more pressing matters than any after-school activity. Things like university entrance tests and inheriting family businesses and stepping in for an absent parent during a crucial board meeting; then, a ways further down the line, marriages and estates and genuine occupations, maybe even children, to worry about. Someday she will visit this place and marvel at how it is different, and she will recall it all so vividly: the way they made her want to hit her head on the walls, or hit their heads on the walls; the way she felt she was being silly whenever they coaxed a smile out of her, and the way it didn't matter that it was silly, because she was enjoying herself so much.

Someday, maybe not so far off now, the seniors will have to graduate, and her debt will be paid, and perhaps Tamaki will have to make a serious announcement on the future of the club.

But today she walks in and there's the scent of tea in the air and the pleasant clink of porcelain. Kyoya notes her arrival with a shift of the head. The twins seize her by the arms and drag her off to the dressing rooms – they're wearing Korean costumes today – as Honey spies her and shouts out "Haru-chaaaan!" Mori pats her on the head as she passes him by, and Tamaki springs out of his chair and yells at the brothers to stop harassing his daughter.

She closes her eyes. She inhales the chaos and the joy and the subtle scent of flowers, and suddenly someday doesn't matter.

A/N: Written for the prompt 'Impending Doom' over at the ourancontest lj-comm. It's a fun community, and new members are always welcome. Thanks for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated. :D