FANDOM: Ouran High School Host Club
GENRE: fantasy, romance
SUMMARY: What if they had met before? What if time didn't matter? (500 words)
NOTES: Inspired by ouran_contest's theme, "dream". This is perhaps the result of wanting to see The Time Traveler's Wife so badly. ETA: Thank you so much for this. :)
“Did you want to ask me something?” She turned to him, as if taken aback, wide-eyed and oh so innocent, hair swishing against his shoulder, silken soft. He resisted the urge to give her a pat on the head, to reassure her.
“Why do you always appear at this time of the day?” She tucked her hand in his and squeezed, maybe she could keep him from leaving. Don't worry, we'll meet again. He wanted to whisper those words in her ear, to tell her all he knew, all she would come to know. But there were rules, and he would be breaking them. And what would that lead to? What if he never saw her again?
“I don't know,” he replied, “It simply happens.”
She was not at all satisfied, brows furrowed, nibbling at her lower lip in concentration. She desperately wanted to pry but wouldn't – it was so familiar, it burned.
“Do you know which school you will be attending come next year?” He sighed, setting his hand across her back, holding her loosely but with enough security. I won't let you fall, don't be scared.
“I think I want to apply at Ouran High School,” she answered after a moment's pause, her tone hard (yet so easy to break, he noted), her eyes shining with a kind of hope which he knew she would carry forever. He smiled, one full of shadows and doubts and fears; she noticed.
“You don't think I should?”
He shook his head, “No, no, I think you'll do wonderfully there,” and then he stopped, tilted the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose, added thoughtfully, “Have you told your father?”
There was another stretch of silence before she grumbled, “He can't be bothered. Dad works and has to concentrate on all his responsibilities. I can do this on my own.”
He chuckled this time, grazing her cheek with his fingers, “You are a strong girl, Haruhi. Don't ever change.”
The clock hanging above them chimed – it was time to go. Already, he could feel his legs disappearing, the room swirling in a pool of nothingness.
“Don't go,” she pleaded, her hand clutching on to his shirt. She was all that he could see. But he closed his eyes, opened them again, touched her shoulder, a light feathery touch – she let go.
“Will you remember me?” He asked, just as he always did. And she nodded with a forceful kind of sadness, unwilling to believe anything else.
And then he was gone, no fairy dust, no gust of stray wind, no nothing. As if he had never existed. And in time, she did forget. And so did he.
Kyouya stirred, reaching for his glasses, sitting up, staring at the desk in front of him. Tamaki looked down at him, worried, hand on his shoulder.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
He shook his head, smiled that dark, brooding, shadowy smile, “No, I think I just had a very good dream.”