The Great Pretender [abandoned]

Chapter 1: Shenanigans

The Great Pretender
By Fox Trot 9

PG-13
Fan Fiction/Humor/Poetry/Romance
Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran Highschool Host Club. © Bisco Hatori

Chapter 1: Shenanigans

At 3:05 p.m. on the grounds of the South Campus of Ouran Academy, near a fountain with a cherub pissing endlessly into the water, there sat by the pond's edge the present subject of this narrative. He sat at the corner of the pond, deep in concentration over his notepad, pen in hand and poised on scratching out the next few lines. His expression seemed to waver between hope and despair, between courage and cowardice, his creativity struggling to burst through the surface.

He struggled; 2nd-year English Literature majors like himself rarely struggled to get the words out on paper, but here he was doing just that and gaining nothing beyond the first four lines of drivel for his efforts. At times like these (which happened far too often, sadly), he would cast his gaze towards the pissing cherub in the center of the pond, listening to the sound of splashing water that used to compose his thoughts so well. He looked and listened, but not even the soothing music of water worked on him now.

Still, he worked at it in cold blood. For five more minutes, he wracked his brains over the words, the rhythm and the rhyme, trying valiantly to come up with a miracle that would release him from his blockage and send him on a writing binge, but to no avail.

Damn it all! he thought, and crumpled up yet another sheet and threw it into the pond, where it floated for a minute or so before sinking beneath the surface. Other crumpled balls of paper lay at the bottom of the pond, slowly dissolving away.

He then rubbed at his temples to ease away the frustrations of yet another failure, before stealing yet another glance of himself in the reflection shimmering on the surface. He sure as hell didn't look like a poet—brown hair with no shine, dark eyes with no luster, a youthful face with no indication of poetic expression in spoken or written words.

Maybe he's right, after all, he thought. Maybe it was a mistake to go against his wishes—no! I won't give him the satisfaction!

"That's littering, you know."

Here he turned from his thoughts, barely comprehending the words spoken to him, and saw someone he'd never seen before. Still, in the present circumstances, one would've mistaken them as cousins, or even brother and sister, though neither shared any familial relationship past a passing resemblance. "Wait, what did you say? I didn't catch what you said."

"You're littering. If you need to throw paper away, throw it in the trash can and not in the pond."

"Oh, sorry about that," he said, then went silent; he had no idea what else to say or do to placate the interest he attracted today. So he did the only sensible thing he could do: he took off his loafers and socks, rolled up his pants and the sleeves of his blue blazer and undershirt, then waded in the shallows picking up soggy clumps of paper.

Viewing this gave Haruhi a sense of deja vu, as she remembered barely a week ago that she occupied a similar position, while she was searching for her wallet wading in and getting herself wet, with Tamaki wading in with her. Now, however, this boy occupied her former position wading through the water amid the lilies, while she occupied Tamaki's looking from the water's edge. So she followed precedent, took off shoes and socks, rolled up her pants and sleeves and waded in with him.

The boy turned and said, "Oh, I didn't mean for you to help me. I can do it on my—"

"A little water never hurt anyone." Haruhi stopped; she had repeated Tamaki's same words to the letter, and with similar intent, even. In the two weeks she had known Tamaki in all his eccentricities, she never thought she would take after him in that way, which made her question her sanity. She thought, There's no way in hell, Haruhi; it's just too weird, and left it at that, picking up more soggy wads of paper and placing them in a soggy pile at the water's edge.