Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction ❯ A Manner of Speaking ❯ A Manner of Speaking ( Chapter 1 )

Author's Note: Just a short little something I've wanted to write for awhile. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club.

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A Manner of Speaking

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Intellectually, Haruhi knew Tamaki was half-French. She knew his tragic background; that his father was Japanese and his mother French. She knew his blonde hair and blue eyes were distinctly un-Japanese. She knew he had something of an exotic air about him. And yet, it never really sunk in. Tamaki spoke flawless Japanese—as expected of the next heir of the prestigious Suou conglomerate, undoubtedly—and his intense interest in Japanese culture had just seemed a part of his unorthodox character. After all, the draw of the female student body had been huge all the times the Host Club cosplayed as period characters.

So when Haruhi first heard Tamaki speak with a French accent, it had taken her by surprise. She and Tamaki were alone in the Third Music Room after the Host Club duties had finished up. Haruhi was studying and Tamaki had claimed that he would not leave his precious daughter alone. While she was working, he sat on the couch, strangely quiet.

After awhile, she looked up from her book to ask about his silence only to find him fast asleep. The sight startled her at first. After all, Tamaki was such a bundle of boundless energy that it had never occurred to her that he might actually need sleep, which was of course, Haruhi told herself, ridiculous. Everyone needs sleep. And yet, seeing him so quiet and peaceful was simply out of character for him.

Unable to take her eyes from the rare sight, Haruhi studied the sleeping blonde. She was surprised at how young he looked. Knowing his history made Haruhi think he looked a little sad, though she quickly decided it must be her imagination. After all, this was Tamaki. He always seemed happy. She was also struck by how innocent he looked as he slumbered peacefully in the place he was happiest.

Yes, this was the purest look at Tamaki she had ever seen. And she couldn't help but think that he was beautiful. A blush crept across her face as the thought struck her that she tried vainly to fight, but the adjective just seemed right. Tamaki was like a piece of art that belonged in a museum. He was pure, beautiful, fragile, and out of reach for someone like her.

Haruhi sighed and turned back to her homework. But before she could start reading again, a soft, foreign murmur reached her ear. She turned back to Tamaki and saw his lips moving slightly. He was muttered something in his sleep that she couldn't understand. It took her a moment to realize that he was speaking in French. Startled, Haruhi stared at her sleeping senpai.

Of course, she scolded herself for being surprised, he grew up in France. French was probably his first language.

She tried to turn back to her homework but her attention kept coming back to Tamaki. Every now and then, she would hear some word or phrase muttered in his elegant mother tongue, and Haruhi found herself wishing she could understand what he was saying, even if it would have felt like she was spying on him. Despite her normal apathy, something about Tamaki piqued her normally dead curiosity. For all his exclamations and seeming openness, he remained an enigma to her.

The next word Tamaki spoke was still tinged with a French accent, but Haruhi was surprised when she understood it. She was even more surprised that he had murmured her name.

But most of all, she surprised herself by smiling.

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End