Fleurs dans un Vase de Porcelaine
004: Fitting In
She knew that if it hadn't been for them, for that stupid vase, for that deep, deep hole she had dug herself that consisted of an insane amount of debt, she would have stuck out like the sorest of thumbs at Ouran Academy.
Sometimes she wondered why it was that she had been blessed with the opportunity to fit in. She was so different from everyone else there that she probably didn't deserve that chance to be at the top of the food chain, so to speak.
She looked like she fit in. She dressed nice at school thanks to the Host Club. But it just… It…
It felt like a façade; she felt fake, even though she spoke her mind, as blunt and brutally honest as she was, sometimes. Her street clothes were mistaken for pajamas, her favorite foods were "commoner" food among her peers…
She had one Tamaki Suoh's arms in her hands; she was holding him so tight her knuckles were white. He looked shocked, maybe a little confused. He tried to smile at her.
"I don't belong here," she said firmly, forcefully. Maybe she was on the verge of tears. Maybe everything was getting to her now that he was only a few minutes from graduating and she still had an entire year left. The Host Club was falling apart, disintegrating. They could get new members, but it wouldn't be the same. "I don't belong here."
He let her clutch his arms. "What are you talking about, Haruhi?" he asked, still smiling so patiently.
She shook him slightly. "I don't fit in!"
He cocked his head to the side, "You've always fit in just fine."
"Only because of the Host Club," she admitted, finally letting him go. He didn't leave. "I'm not like you, like them." She waved a hand at the other assembled members, at Kyouya and the others about to finish high school. "Without these clothes, I'm—"
"—Still Haruhi," he finished, tousling her hair.
I almost forgot about this. I've had this written for months.