(In)Discretion
Urei Sachi
Something could be said about the host club room's privacy (or the lack of it), but whatever Renge had to say about it was quickly overshadowed by her screaming.
"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" A hand covering her mouth did not prove to be sufficient enough in muffling her voice though. Renge was proud of the fact that she had a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the entire school, and it was quite a feat considering the size of Ouran. Her vocal chords proved to be helpful, in her warped point of view, except during days wherein she went into fan girl mode and "moe'd" all day. She was convinced that Kyouya-senpai was being charitable and obliged her need for… visual stimulation. (Coincidentally, those days happened to be times wherein every girl in Ouran was present for class and not lounging around a private island; wasn't that odd?)
"Renge-san, please—" Haruhi said with some difficulty. It was hard trying to pin the other girl down while trying to look dignified in just your underwear. It was mortifying, actually. "Calm down!"
Renge considered Haruhi's suggestion for only a minute, until she remembered that she had a crush on Haruhi when he—she – was, in all actuality, female. If the fact that Haruhi was cross dressing was bad enough, the fact that she looked good in men's clothing was worse. And if Haruhi was a girl, then Renge was becoming lesbian for thinking about Haruhi that way.
Cue memories of certain dreams that she really did not need to remember right now. It was ghastly.
Renge screamed. Again.
Louder, this time.
So was it really a surprise when half of the Host club barged in?
---
"You didn't have to freak out, you know," Kyouya said, rubbing his forehead to ease the tension in his clouded brain. Renge was silent for a while, looking like a petulant five year old deprived of cake, until she finally deigned to respond with a huff.
"Wouldn't you freak out if you see the guy you liked with nothing on, only to find out that said crush has breasts?" Renge tried to erase the mental image of Haruhi in her mind, but she failed. It was that traumatizing. (It was also disturbing that she still found Haruhi rather attractive, but she figured that Tamaki would kill her if he knew.)
"Not really," chuckled Kyouya. Renge stared at him and briefly pondered the possibility of Kyouya being female, then promptly threw away the thought. She really did not want to know. Ever.
"How long have you known?" She asked icily.
Kyouya pursed his lips and decided to lie smoothly. "Just a while ago, when we walked in on her."
"Liar." She laughed drunkenly.
"Which one of you broke the vase?"
Renge stiffened and poured some more champagne for herself. "I was upset." She responded rigidly.
"I'm sure you were," said Kyouya in what was supposed to be a placating manner (not soothing enough, damn it), "but one of you has to pay for it."
She pouted and folded her arms. "Just when I thought you were being sweet."
Kyouya smiled mysteriously, and thought out loud. "At least now you wouldn't have errant fantasies of Haruhi starring in a—what was it the girls called it? Yaoi?—movie with several compromising situations."
Renge made a face. "She's a girl. That would be porn."
Kyouya didn't deign to respond. He wondered what kind of logic Renge had, seeing that to her, anything with boys 'getting it on' was not considered as pornography in any way.
He had to shudder at that.
He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Really, there's no need to be upset."
"No need? No need?" Kyouya was sorry that he said it at all. "You try having an unhealthy obsession on a cross dresser for months now and see if you don't get upset!"
"I hear they call them metrosexuals nowadays."
Renge realized just how insufferable Kyouya's sense of humor was, and decided to drown it with alcohol.
She tilted her head back, and promptly fell asleep.
---
That night, she had nightmares of Kyouya in a dress, and Haruhi in nothing but her underwear.
---
When Haruhi came into the clubroom the next day, she found Renge waiting for her.
"Renge-san," she began, but couldn't really continue, because she didn't have anything else to say.
"Look," Renge said as solemnly as she could, "I've been doing some thinking, and I've come to terms with the fact that you," she paused for a moment, trying to control whatever emotion she was suppressing, (Haruhi was a smart girl, so she knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good.) "are a girl."
Haruhi tilted her head in a way that several girls found adorable, and ventured with an "I'm sorry?", that was probably less of an apology than it was an 'excuse me'.
"Well, you shouldn't be." Renge announced rather proudly, and started chewing on her uniform's ribbon. She pointedly ignored the thought of how Haruhi would look in the correct uniform. Yellow dress and all that. She would probably look pretty, but Renge really wasn't interested in dressing her up right now. Not when they had something to resolve. Maybe later. "And you know what?"
No, Haruhi didn't. And she didn't want to know. But out of courteousness, she decided to grit her teeth and say, "What is it?"
Renge's smile was eerily cheerful, and something in Haruhi's mind (probably her survival instincts) screamed at her to run, jump out of the window and never come back.
She didn't. The window was too far away, and Renge was conveniently blocking the nearest exit.
"I've decided to marry you!"
She froze and did a perfect impression of a fish that jumped out of the water and into the waiting arms- teeth- of a crocodile.
"But, Renge-san," she choked out helplessly—desperately-- holding her hands up defensively, "what about the Host Club? What about Kyouya-senpai?"
"Oh, that's easy, Haruhi!" Renge exclaimed as she latched onto Haruhi's arm. "They can be our pets!"
Haruhi would have escaped, but she could only twitch, because Renge's grasp was cutting off the circulation in her arm. And so she listened to Renge drone on and on about a mansion in Paris and living happily ever after with Tamaki-kitty, Hunny-bunny, and other disturbing things that only a fan girl could think of.
She really didn't get fan girls.
---
END