An Overlap of Coincidence

An Overlap of Coincidence
Chapter Two

Kyouya arrived at the third music room precisely fifteen minutes before the club was to open and receive guests. He was later than usual, but being as on time meant he was a good twenty minutes earlier than everyone else, no one seemed to notice. The reason for his belated arrival was of no consequence, but it did succeed in making him irritated that he hadn't as much time to prepare as he usually did.

Tamaki issued orders this way and that. Lighting pointed this way; large flowers turned precisely that way to show the most beautiful blooms. The couch on this side of the room and not that side. Etcetera. They were words that passed over and through Kyouya, who felt a relief that today was not a day they indulged in overly complicated costumes. It was certainly a relief to the budget at any rate.

His critical gaze swept over Tamaki's changes. Making certain that none of them would impede the club's activities and that Tamaki hadn't chosen something inherently foolish – as was his usual wont. Satisfied that there would be no undue complication as a result of Tamaki's whims, Kyouya turned to his own preparations. At his usual table, rarely utilized as he was more often to be found wandering the floor as an overseer but still present for the occasional customer who requested him, he fluffed pillows. Rearranged flowers. Placed a tea set of his choice. Something in a pale violet and fern trim, he decided.

It wasn't until he started checking the vases to ensure the water levels were at an acceptable level that he noticed the box. It was small, about the size of his hand, and nondescript. But the tag clearly stated his name. Obviously, the wrapped thing was meant for him. Arriving in much the same manner as all the other mysterious gifts Kyouya had received lately.

He paused and contemplated the package. It wasn't so much that he considered it to be a possible danger, but he did wonder how it could have arrived without anyone seeing the giver. Only members of the club, excluding those trouble-making twins, held keys to the third music room.

It was also oddly light. If he shook it, he could hear rustling but nothing else. Kyouya's gaze slid to the side, surveying the attentions of his fellow club members. But no one seemed to be paying him the least bit attention. The twins were prodding Haruhi in the cheek as she prepared her Commoner's Coffee – all caps because the president had decreed it to be so. Mori-senpai was setting out a variety of sweets for his cousin. Whose eyes had grown wide, round, and dazzled. And Tamaki was sulking in a corner; Haruhi had probably chastised him again.

In short, it was business as usual.

Kyouya returned his attention to the box in his hand, finger reaching for the ribbon and giving it a light tug. The dark-red decoration came undone easily. Kyouya slipped it into his pocket, to eventually join the other ribbons he had collected. They were his only proof that the giver was probably the same person.

The lid slid open. And Kyouya was well aware that the club would be opening for business within the next five minutes. He hadn't much time.

Tissue paper greeted his eyes. Kyouya moved the white annoyance to the side and pulled out the object beneath it. Objects rather. As the contents consisted of a pair of tickets, prime seating, to a show that had been sold out for months. Kyouya knew this because it was something Fuyumi and himself had wanted to see but lost out on the opportunity because of the rarity of the tickets. Even his Ootori connections had been pressed to get them in.

Kyouya stared at the tickets and wondered how in all the world his... stalker had known his desire to see this play. This particular gift was insightful. Far more than any of the others had been. As though his admirer were “stepping up his game”.

And funny that Kyouya should automatically attach “his” rather than “her” as though his unconscious mind had already decided that his admirer was male. It was painfully obvious that he didn't believe such gifts to be possible of the insipid girls that the Host Club usually attracted. But perhaps a female who didn't partake in their services? Someone more like Haruhi? Was there one to be found like her in all of Ouran Academy? She was the only one who had any common sense. Likely because of her upbringing. Kyouya found it charming, especially since he could relate to Haruhi on an intellectual level.

Could it be her? Did he want it to be?

But his intuition scoffed at the idea. Something this subtle? This sneaky? Haruhi was far more the type to stroll right up to him and declare her intentions. And from all of Kyouya's research, it didn't seem Haruhi was much interested in romance right now. There were reasons she had come to Ouran and finding a potential husband wasn't one of them.

Still, logic dictated that his admirer had to be a member of the Host Club. Meaning that his prior deductions were incorrect. But who could it be?

The same reasoning that had dismissed his fellow members before cropped up in the back of his mind. The possibility that it was the twins involving him in another of their games was something he had to consider as well. But then, would they bother doing something so thoughtful all for the sake of a good laugh? Not that there was one to be found here. Kyouya wasn't falling head over heels for the gift-giver at all. If the gifts were... occupying his attention then that was only to be expected.

Tamaki then?

It certainly seemed like something his foolish brain would concoct. Except that Tamaki had very little patience. He was of the type to want to watch from some corner – attempting to be stealthy and failing miserably – just to watch Kyouya's reaction. No doubt his excitement would betray him in the end.

Who else was there?

In the midst of his musings, Honey-senpai bounded to Kyouya with all the energy of someone who spent his entire life imbibing far too much sugar. Big, brown eyes shifted from the item in Kyouya's hands to his face. He noisily poked his nose in and tried to read the printing on the tickets.

“What's that, Kyou-chan?” he asked with a beaming smile.

Kyouya paused to consider.

Honey-senpai perhaps? He looked at the short blond. All – fake – innocence and giggles. He was as much a mystery as Mori-senpai at times. His loli-shota performance half-act and half-reality. How talented of Honey-senpai to blur the lines between.

“A mystery,” Kyouya replied in a peculiar tone.

And really, it was something he hadn't solved. Which burned his blood. Kyouya hated not knowing the answer. And he despised being unable to immediately locate them either.

Honey-senpai glanced up at him, one finger pressed to his chin in thought. “Looks like a gift to me.” He bounced on the balls of his feet.

Kyouya's eyes narrowed minutely. “So it would seem.”

“Who from?”

“That is the question, isn't it?” Kyouya murmured more to himself than to Honey-senpai, mind already spinning a half-dozen different conjectures.

The older teen looked as if he were going to say something further. But Tamaki's voice broke through both their conversation and Kyouya's thoughts.

“Welcome, lovely flowers!” the president declared with wide-flung arms and a joyous expression. Hearts and sparkles practically danced around his face.

And with that, the club was officially open for business. Honey-senpai bounded away, taking his mysterious line of questioning with him. Kyouya carefully placed the tickets in his pocket. He could already imagine the look of sheer happiness on Fuyumi's face when he showed them to her.

The time for thinking passed as Kyouya focused fully on the club and taking care of their customers, including his own. Of course, considering his type, they were content to sit quietly in his presence and blush as they sipped at their tea. This was advantageous to Kyouya. Who could keep one eye on the actions of his fellow club members and another eye on his customers and yet not slight either party.

Some days, Kyouya truly felt as if he were the mother of this motley assortment of strange characters, though he wasn't sure if Tamaki qualified as the father. Slightly deranged and crazy uncle perhaps but not the father. No, Mori-senpai was the one more suited for that particular role. But their positions had already been dictated by Tamaki, logic aside. And it required more effort than Kyouya was willing to put forth to sway him in that regards.

“It’s terrible! No, blasphemy!”

The horrified voice was accompanied by an equally horrified gasp and Kyouya's brows lifted as he – and his guests – turned to see Tamaki all but swooning in despair. Haruhi, the recipient of his sympathies, was bland-faced as always.

“Is it that unusual?” she returned coolly, and Kyouya was incredibly grateful that she had joined them. It was always nice to have another voice of reason – Mori-senpai included in this – amid the madness that Tamaki seemed to exude in communicable doses.

“That my precious daughter has never been to an onsen is a tragedy that I can't allow you to suffer any longer!” Tamaki cried. One wrist pressed to his forehead before he scooped Haruhi up in a breath-stealing embrace that left her dangling limply. “This must be fixed immediately.”

And Kyouya sighed. He already knew where this was heading. He didn't need to see the twins exchange devious glances, slapping their hands together in high-fives to know who had been the instigator either. He simply pulled out his notebook and laptop – his guests sufficiently distracted by all the commotion – and began to plan.

As luck would have it, his family owned an onsen in Hokkaido.

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a/n: Well, I hope you are all enjoying this little snippets! I look forward to reading your responses!