4. Hibiki's Cold

                                    

                                          
In literature, a rainy day could mean a rebirth of some sorts or a metaphorical baptism - something deep and meaningful. But at Ouran, rain was just rain and it was more destructive than anything. Hibiki sighed as she emptied out the contents of her school bag. All of her books were soaked, her homework assignments ruined. She placed everything on a table in the library, letting everything dry off. She herself, sat on the windowsill,mostly wet, looking out at the abounding, endless gray nimbus overhead, trying to ease her frustration. She placed a hand on the coolness of the windows glass, watching the water hit and melt and slide against it. She looked back to her books, sighing with exasperation and leaning her head against the window. She closed her eyes and listened to the rain's pitter and, soon enough, the sound of a fan blowing. 
                          
She looked up, her cheeks tingling as they warmed. The same boy that sat across from her at the library and behind her in philosophy - Takashi, was it? - stood, adjusting an oscillating fan so it blew her wet books and work. What he forgot, was to put a paperweight down on the loose papers, sending them flying once he got the position right. She stood up quickly, going for the work as it landed. He rushed around to the other end of the table to pick up the ones she couldn't. A few of them had flew underneath the table, so she ducked her head down and crawled under, pushing chairs out of her away. She placed her hand at the end of one of the papers, but didn't pick it up when a hand, notably larger than hers took the other end. 
                          
She looked up sharply, her eyes falling into a sea of warm, dark gray eyes. She let her head drop, breaking their gaze as she gently slipped the paper from underneath his hand. She crawled out from underneath the table and adjusted her clothes and hair out of nervous habit. Her cheeks tingled and burned with embarrassment. Takashi stood up with the remaining papers in his hands. He turned the fan off and spread them out among the table once again. Hibiki reached for her bag and pulled out her pencil pouch. She grabbed every pencil and marker she had and sat them at the top of every loose leaf paper on the table with Takashi's help. Once they were done she sat on the windowpane, patting a spot next to her for Takashi to join her. 
                          
He picked a book she didn't know he had up from one of the chairs at the table and made his way over. He sat close enough for her to see the words and opened up the book. Hibiki situated herself closer to Tamaki, enabling the best position for herself to see both pages. 
                          
And so their thighs were touching, her bare leg against his pantsed leg; and their shoulders were rubbing, enough for her to lay her head on his arm - and he wished she would. She was so small next to him and also unnaturally cold. So when she sneezed - even her sneezes were soft - he knew something was wrong. Her legs were still a little wet, as well as her hair, and her body shivered against his, just a little. He closed the book, shaming himself for not realizing that since her books were wet, how could she not be. She looked to him, confused, but now shivering harder and he stood up. "Come with me," he said. She stood up and he took off his jacket and threw it over her shoulders. 
                          
Hibiki looked up to him, her heart so heavy with gratitude at that point that she had no idea how she would ever thank him. She followed behind him, clutching the jacket around her shoulders, sneezing every here and there. But she couldn't shake the feeling in her gut that she was now, unlike earlier, so grateful for the rain and her books getting wet, and her possibly having a cold. 
                          
They walked down a hall and rounded a corner, not too far off from the library - close enough for her to not get lost in the labyrinth that was Ouran Academy. 
                          
Takashi stopped in front of a set of double doors with a sign above that read "music room 3". He pushed the door open for Hibiki and, together, they entered an empty room. He led her, silently, through the room, all the way to the back, where there was a set of curtains - a makeshift changing room, she assumed. He pushed the curtain back and walked up to one of the many racks of costumes that filled the area. He didn't say so, but she assumed he was searching for one of the girls' uniforms. Instead, he pulled out a cosplay uniform, not too different from her own - a red jacket with a white button up underneath and a black bow tie. The skirt matched the jacket, but had black and white stripes. He also found a towel and handed it to her to completely dry off. Quickly, he moved from inside the curtain and decided to wait for her outside. 
                          
She was confused to an absolute degree. He'd helped her without saying a word, without her saying a word. Was he always that quiet? Reading someone who didn't talk made her think, especially someone with only one constant facial expression, seemed practically impossible, but she had a faint sense of understanding about Takashi. 
                          
Once she'd dried off and changed clothes, she stepped out of the curtain and Takashi turned towards her. That uniform looking just as good on her as the one before. He grinned, smally, but enough for her to see and she smiled back unabashedly and, he could swear that her smile was practically the most gracious thing he'd ever witnessed on the account of him never seeing anything more gracious. 
                          
Together, they walked back to the library, back to his hidden-but-not-so-hidden spot in the back, where the fan was still blowing and the papers were done drying. The damage wasn't too bad - her books had dried out and there were only a couple assignments she'd have to reprint. She packed everything back into her bag and just then, the bell rang. Takashi hummed as he turned to leave, but as he was walking away, she grabbed him by the hem of his jacket. He turned back around, looking down at her and her inimitable smile. She said so sweetly and genuinely, "thank you" and he said "you're welcome" and they both left without another word.
                          
Mori picked up Honey from class before heading to the host club for more conflict-driven planning with his friends about the spring festivities. He opened the doors for Honey, then stepped inside, walking into the clamorous world of the host club. Even Renge had emerged from wherever it was she resided to engage in the humdrum. 
                          
"Don't we need a team name? What should we call ourselves?" Kaoru asked. 
                          
"How about the Lovely Devils?" Hikaru played. 
                          
"'Absolutely not," Tamaki protested. 
                          
"How about the Honeysuckles!" Honey chimed in.
                          
"Cute, but not fitting for all of us, Honey-senpai," Tamaki declined. 
                          
"A good team deserves a good team name. What do you call a group of handsome young men with too much time on their hands?" Renge thought aloud. 
                          
"How about Host Club Battlefront! Don't you like that Haruhi?" Tamaki gleamed. 
                          
"I don't really care about what the name is," Haruhi said in that infamously nonchalant voice of hers. 
                          
"I feel like the Host Club Battlefront would be a bit harsh for the theme of our club, Tamaki," Kyouya finally stepped in. "The newspaper club has submitted their team name - the Paperbacks - and the ballet club is calling themselves the Ouran Pointes." 
                          
"That was helpful in literally no way at all, thank you, Kyouya," Tamaki sighed, falling into a couch, obviously suffering the pressures of running a host club. "We need a name that represents us as a whole," he voiced his thoughts.
                          
"How about the BOI Brigade - the Boys of Interest?" Haruhi mumbled sarcastically. Everyone stopped to look at her with promising eyes and she froze in her spot. 
                          
"The BOI Brigade! That's perfect, Haruhi! Aren't you just the perfect little smartypants. Isn't my little girl just precious," Tamaki sang as he wrapped Haruhi in his arms, swinging her back and forth. 
                          
"I would appreciate it if you kept my feet on the ground," she grumbled. 
                          
"It's pretty cheesy, boss, don't you think?" The Hitachiins synchronized. 
                          
"I don't have a problem with it. I just need something to submit to the festival committee before team submissions close," Kyouya said, his hands hovering over the keyboard of his laptop. 
                          
"I think it's a little weird, but I also think the host club is a bit weird, so I guess there's nothing wrong with that after all. Now that we have a sport and a name, we should be getting together our team uniforms!" Renge announced.
                          
"We've got that covered," Hikaru grinned.
                          
"We already texted out mom about the upcoming events and she agreed to make our outfits for us," Kaoru said, matching his brother's grin. 
                          
"Well, since the athletics portion is out of the way, let's talk about the springtime ball happening after all the other festivities are over..." Mori couldn't bring himself to listen to another long conversation with his club members, so he did what he'd always done whenever the time called for it - stare out of a window. 
                          
But this time was different, he noticed. This time, he had something to think about.