Them [O. H. S. H. C. ]

19 | Apologies

My eyes were trained on a photo, one blown up on a large canvas. It was Tamaki and I, in a photo booth, donning lavish feather hats and ridiculously huge glasses. The blonde was clutching a thought bubble filled with the familiar lyrics: "I'm so fancy!" And we were both grinning.

I swallowed hard, averting my eyes. Last week, post the name switch-up, I discovered that my boyfriend was, indeed, dating someone else. Akane Shijo, an esteemed lawyer's wealthy daughter. Yeah, they were having a side affair. I walked in on them making out.

After threatening Shijo with release to the press (spiteful, I know), I broke off the relationship (if there was anything to break) and allowed myself a three day weekend of recovery. Meaning no host club, no schoolwork, no stressful activities. Just me, my leather sofa, and my sappy romance flicks. I tried not to think about him and his extravagantly purple eyes or his charming, handsome smile...but this picture was definitely getting to me.

I reluctantly let a tear slip, ready to embrace my feelings, until someone pounded on the door.

Did Dad forget his keys?

My sleeves served as a tissue, leaving salty splotches on my gray cardigan, as I raced down the stairs. I flung open the heavy doors, expecting the pale brown of my father's hair. I was greeted with, rather, a figure with distinct amethyst pupils and stark blonde hair. I slammed the door, with a force equivalent to that with which he broke my heart.

"-----!"

After ten minutes of his relentless badgering, I answered.

"Please, please, leave. I don't want you anywhere near me or my house. And I don't want to hear your worthless apologies. Leave."

"No! Look, I know I made a mistake-"

"I agree. Now, bye bye."

"But you have to hear me out-"

"I don't have to do anything."

We exchanged words, the sounds passing through the thin material of my front door.

"I don't mean it like that...I just want to apologize-"

"For what you've done, right? Too late!"

"I'm too late, aren't I?"

The genuine sorrow in his voice aroused pity which I had to detain.

"Yes, Tamaki. You have your answer. Go."

"I have an answer. But I don't accept it."

My mail slot, a brass panel creating a push out of place blockade, was flicked open. A slender CD case was slipped through into my waiting hands. The translucent orange case barely squeezed by.

"What is this?"

"Listen to it."

"Why should I?"

"Because you're a good person. Better than myself."

"I don't need you to tell me that I'm better than you."

"Just listen to it. Promise me."

"I'll promise nothing."

"Please!"

"Fine! Now you can leave, and NEVER come back! I don't want to see you here again. Is that clear, Suoh?!"

"Yes."

His voice was but a whimper, weighed down with sadness.

But who cares? He deserves what he get.