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Mar. 21st, 2007 11:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
floweranzaTitle: 10. Music
Characters: Fujioka Haruhi + Suoh Tamaki
Rating: PG-13
1/100 themes.
(MOVE THIS DOWN) Some people said that Tamaki was different when he was sitting at the keys of a piano. These were the people, Haruhi thought, who were somewhere in between not knowing him at all and knowing him very well.
Tired as she had been, Haruhi had forgotten one of the books that she needed for her homework at the school. Her father, giggling, had ruffled her hair and slung an arm around her shoulders, ‘Nooo, how could I let my precious daughter go all that way? It’s very scary! Very dark! Who knows what--... Haaaruuuhi!’ She'd pulled a face at him, shrugged on her shoes and bag and walked out at a brisk pace. Needed that book.
And then it was very easy to say that Ouran Academy, glittering as it was in the sunlight, was nothing short of ominous at night with all of the windows dimmed and every masterfully crafted hedge casting a shadow on the path. Haruhi sighed and trudged on, thinking on how unnecessary this was. Stupid her, forgetting that book – and how had that happened? Hikaru and Kaoru had been performing a two-man play over her head, complete with flirtatious glances and copious cheek-stroking, and then with a leaping finale had skipped out of the club room. It was then that Haruhi had found herself trapped in the sea of squealing girls that had been attempting to follow.
Climbing the staircase in the South Building she froze, just for a moment, as light spilled out from under the door of the Third Music Room and a crescendo reached its peak. It would be tricky to explain why Fujioka, the male (to mostly everyone’s knowledge) special scholarship student (and quite popular, nowadays), had come to the school wearing a dress. Not entirely unexplainable, but difficult, and Haruhi didn’t like difficult at all. A gentle humming reached her ears and oh, she should have known-- Tamaki-sempai. She sighed again, and quietly stepped into the room.
He was sitting comfortably on the leather seat and his fingers were stroking over the keys slowly and calmly, entirely composed. Haruhi didn’t remember what the piece was called, though she had heard him play it before – that time with the elementary school boy. Tamaki’s eyes were low-lidded and his body at ease, and it caused her to relax in accordance, though she wasn’t really sure whether she liked this strange new Tamaki-sempai more than the usual boisterous visage and bumbling limbs. The music slowly slipped away and so did his voice, and then he looked up and saw her and tripped off the stool with a yelp. “Haruhi!”
“Good evening, Tamaki-sempai,” she said resignedly.
“Haruhi, my lovely daughter! My day is so wonderfully blessed!” His eyes sparkled (Haruhi fought to contain an involuntary twitch) and he jumped up and strode toward her, hands coming to clasp hers. “Ah, my daughter, were you lonely? Did you come to see your father because you were sad? But that’s so awful, Haruhiii, but – eh, how did you know that I was here?” Tamaki’s words always seemed to stumble forward in that clean and unstuttering rush, and sometimes she was jealous of his awkward confidence.
“I didn’t, sempai,” replied Haruhi, rather flatly and in immediate response to this Tamaki curled up in a corner and brooded, “I forgot my mathematics textbook in here, actually. Have you seen it?” She paused, just a bit curious now. “Why are you here, Tamaki-sempai? It’s late.”
“Ah, yes, well.” Tamaki deflated, then unfolded his tall body and strode back towards the piano looking rather sheepish. “I’m in trouble!”
“In trouble?”
“Hmm, quite. In any case I wanted to practice, and I couldn’t anywhere in that house, so I came here. Papa is very fond of this piano, Haruhi!” He picked up something (her book, Haruhi thought) from the top of it, smiled, and walked back to where she was standing by the door, and then bowed low, holding it up to her with an open palm.
Haruhi took it, looking down at him, and noticed that he did look more stressed than he had seemed at first glance. “Thank you.”
Characters: Fujioka Haruhi + Suoh Tamaki
Rating: PG-13
1/100 themes.
(MOVE THIS DOWN) Some people said that Tamaki was different when he was sitting at the keys of a piano. These were the people, Haruhi thought, who were somewhere in between not knowing him at all and knowing him very well.
Tired as she had been, Haruhi had forgotten one of the books that she needed for her homework at the school. Her father, giggling, had ruffled her hair and slung an arm around her shoulders, ‘Nooo, how could I let my precious daughter go all that way? It’s very scary! Very dark! Who knows what--... Haaaruuuhi!’ She'd pulled a face at him, shrugged on her shoes and bag and walked out at a brisk pace. Needed that book.
And then it was very easy to say that Ouran Academy, glittering as it was in the sunlight, was nothing short of ominous at night with all of the windows dimmed and every masterfully crafted hedge casting a shadow on the path. Haruhi sighed and trudged on, thinking on how unnecessary this was. Stupid her, forgetting that book – and how had that happened? Hikaru and Kaoru had been performing a two-man play over her head, complete with flirtatious glances and copious cheek-stroking, and then with a leaping finale had skipped out of the club room. It was then that Haruhi had found herself trapped in the sea of squealing girls that had been attempting to follow.
Climbing the staircase in the South Building she froze, just for a moment, as light spilled out from under the door of the Third Music Room and a crescendo reached its peak. It would be tricky to explain why Fujioka, the male (to mostly everyone’s knowledge) special scholarship student (and quite popular, nowadays), had come to the school wearing a dress. Not entirely unexplainable, but difficult, and Haruhi didn’t like difficult at all. A gentle humming reached her ears and oh, she should have known-- Tamaki-sempai. She sighed again, and quietly stepped into the room.
He was sitting comfortably on the leather seat and his fingers were stroking over the keys slowly and calmly, entirely composed. Haruhi didn’t remember what the piece was called, though she had heard him play it before – that time with the elementary school boy. Tamaki’s eyes were low-lidded and his body at ease, and it caused her to relax in accordance, though she wasn’t really sure whether she liked this strange new Tamaki-sempai more than the usual boisterous visage and bumbling limbs. The music slowly slipped away and so did his voice, and then he looked up and saw her and tripped off the stool with a yelp. “Haruhi!”
“Good evening, Tamaki-sempai,” she said resignedly.
“Haruhi, my lovely daughter! My day is so wonderfully blessed!” His eyes sparkled (Haruhi fought to contain an involuntary twitch) and he jumped up and strode toward her, hands coming to clasp hers. “Ah, my daughter, were you lonely? Did you come to see your father because you were sad? But that’s so awful, Haruhiii, but – eh, how did you know that I was here?” Tamaki’s words always seemed to stumble forward in that clean and unstuttering rush, and sometimes she was jealous of his awkward confidence.
“I didn’t, sempai,” replied Haruhi, rather flatly and in immediate response to this Tamaki curled up in a corner and brooded, “I forgot my mathematics textbook in here, actually. Have you seen it?” She paused, just a bit curious now. “Why are you here, Tamaki-sempai? It’s late.”
“Ah, yes, well.” Tamaki deflated, then unfolded his tall body and strode back towards the piano looking rather sheepish. “I’m in trouble!”
“In trouble?”
“Hmm, quite. In any case I wanted to practice, and I couldn’t anywhere in that house, so I came here. Papa is very fond of this piano, Haruhi!” He picked up something (her book, Haruhi thought) from the top of it, smiled, and walked back to where she was standing by the door, and then bowed low, holding it up to her with an open palm.
Haruhi took it, looking down at him, and noticed that he did look more stressed than he had seemed at first glance. “Thank you.”