BLOOM [OHSHC]

Chapter 23 - Bloom

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 The first day of the new semester brought its own challenges.

Okay, let's be honest: it was an absolute shit show.

I ended up late to my first class because Mei wouldn't let me leave her junior high until I found all of her classrooms with her and confirmed that she could get her locker open. After a lot of hugging and soothing, we bumped into her best friend, Kano, who happily linked arms with Mei and skipped off toward their first class together. From their fancy-ass middle school to Ouran Academy, I sprinted full-tilt, sweating through my uniform in no time flat.

After that, the whole day was spent playing catch-up. The downside of going to a rich kid, elite tier, silver spoon academy like Ouran meant the faculty piled the homework on from day one, expecting us to apply ourselves every second of every day.

But you know what? Some of us don't have the wherewithal to be a giant fucking nerd 24/7. Especially when your first classes on Monday morning are Advanced Latin and Calculus. Who's even awake enough to comprehend Calculus at 9 AM?

...Apparently Haruhi. But other than her? Nobody.

We hadn't had time to talk before Calculus (because my Advanced Latin teacher was busy ripping me a new one for showing up late), but afterwards, Haruhi pulled me into a hug and said she missed me as she straightened my collar and fixed a wayward strand of my newly dyed, uniform-matching, lavender hair. "I like this color on you. Reminds me of that old song... you know? 'Lavender blue, lavender green'," she said with a little smile. "And... I think I know someone else who will like it on you too."

I didn't know who she meant, despite her winks and nudges and obvious hinting. "Uh... who?" I asked, hoping to get a straightforward answer. Honey, maybe? He did tend to enjoy pastels... Maaaybe Tamaki?

The warning bell rang, signaling one minute for me to race across campus for Developmental Psychology. Haruhi didn't have time to answer before we took off in separate directions, apologizing profusely while running to our next class. She shouted backwards, "See you at the Host Club later?"

I didn't even have time to turn or to stop, so I threw a thumbs-up into the air and kept running. Thankfully, I was still in shape from working on the movie, so I made it across campus to Developmental Psych in record time.

There, in the half-full classroom, Kyoya sat at a table near the windows, his chin in his palm as he gazed out at the summer sky. I got the sudden urge to paint him like that: sun-kissed, peaceful, and mask-less. Unhindered by his role in the club, by his parents, by the future. For a moment, he was just... Kyoya.

As I entered, a little distracted by the thought of what sort of paint I'd use to render him, I bumped into the front-most desk, scattering a peer's school supplies all over the ground. "Fuck, sorry," I laughed, bending down to help them pick it all up. They laughed it off and thanked me for the help, and when I stood again, there he was.

Kyoya was staring open-mouthed.

At me, specifically. I wasn't sure if you caught that. He's not gaping at something out the window like a weirdo or dissociating or anything... he's looking straight at me.

My cheeks warmed and I ducked my head, weaving through the desks until I made it to where he was waiting. "Are you saving this for someone?" I asked, pointing at the chair beside him where his bag sat on the seat.

Avoiding all eye contact, he moved it silently. I sat and tried to think of something to talk to him about—maybe I had something on my face from breakfast or something in my teeth or I forgot to button my shirt all the way up, except Haruhi surely would've said something—but the teacher walked in and started class before either of us could drum up something to say.