The language of flowers is a code, used to express that which cannot be spoken.
It was the time of year that girls' cheeks blushed the color of roses. These ladies offered their chocolate – and their hearts – to lucky young men.
No young men were luckier than the famed host club of Ouran. And no young lady was luckier than Fujioka Haruhi. Not that she cared much for the love of these girls. They thought she was a boy. She didn't even care much for the love of the other hosts, though she didn't realize she even had it.
This Valentine's was different, as normal as it might seem. Haruhi had slaved over her chocolate that past Sunday, so she was pleased to see that everyone had enjoyed it.
The twins had cheered, Hunny had squealed before gobbling it up, Mori had smiled, and Tamaki had tearfully sworn that in exchange for her homemade chocolate he would buy her a pony on White Day.
"I don't need a pony."
"But-"
"I don't even want a pony."
"But Daddy must get his little girl a pony! Don't all girls want ponies?"
When she'd given Kyouya his box of chocolate, he had just examined it, given her a hint of a smile, and thanked her. Haruhi figured that he would probably sell it to one of her designators, but she grudgingly admitted that money would bring Kyouya more happiness than some sloppy chocolate.
And for some reason, Haruhi especially liked to see Kyouya happy. She didn't know why… but he deserved it somehow.
When she got home, Haruhi headed straight for her homework. Taking in account her host club meeting and her long walk home (in the bitter cold, no less) it was already five o' clock – and dark outside.
She adjusted her desk lamp and began to study. Her father wouldn't be home for another four hours, which meant another four hours of peace and quiet.
Perhaps an hour into her studying, her peace and quiet was rudely interrupted. By a knock on the door.
Haruhi's concentration was broken. Now, there were only two people who could be at the door – the host club or some sort of door-to-door salesman. She did not want to speak with either. But it broke her out of her trance-like studying, and she fixed herself a quick dinner.
After she was finished eating, she hesitated for a moment, then opened the door. She was not sure why.
It was dark out, and soft, light flakes were fluttering down and resting on the ground. Haruhi could see her breath frost in the air. She put her arms around herself for warmth.
She looked down on her doormat. Covered in the thinnest veil of snow was a small glass vase. In this small glass vase was a rose.
Haruhi picked it up and examined it. The most striking thing about this rose was that it was blue.
She shut the door, but continued to stare at the flower. Blue roses were not common in nature; she wasn't sure of the details but she knew that they were man made, and quite extraordinary.
Haruhi only took one last glance at it, wondering who had gone through such trouble to find such a thing, before she went back to her room to study.
She was just closing her textbook when she heard the front door open.
"Haruhi!" her father's voice called, "Sweetie, Daddy's had a long, lonely day at work! Would you like a cup of tea?"
"I was just about to go to sleep," she explained, calling out of her room. She needed nine hours. There was an important Japanese history class the next day, so it was worth it to get a healthy amount of sleep.
"Haruhi!" her father pouted, waving a hand in front her face. He was still wearing his coat from work. "Come on! It's a chance to relax."
"Tea has caffeine in it."
Her father sighed. "Too practical…" he murmured.
Haruhi finally was able to slip in her bed. She had just clicked off the light when…
"Haruhi!"
She got up and walked into the kitchen. They were probably out of tea or something.
"What's the problem?"
"This!" Ranka squealed, pointing excitedly at the blue rose. "Who is this from? I'm hoping it's not one of your female admirers… but they would give you chocolate, wouldn't they? I think this is from one of those attractive friends of yours!" He beamed.
Then his face became dark. "It had better not be from that Tamaki. It would be very like that half-foreign bug to send flowers."
"Tamaki isn't the villain you make him out to be," she said distractedly, re-examining the rose.
"What can I say?" he fretted, "That bug was straddling my baby on the floor!"
Haruhi briefly wondered what her father would have though about Kyouya pinning her on a bed. Not that he intended to harm her, but neither had Tamaki.
"I have no idea who it's from," Haruhi concluded, "In fact, it's probably something for one of the neighbors or some kind of mix-up like that. Now… goodnight."
"Not a romantic bone in her body…" Ranka thought to himself.
The next day was normal. School, then host club. On her walk home from school, snow crunched under her shoes.
She paused when she got to the front door. There were flowers again, this time sunflowers. They were bright, conspicuous against the snow.
Haruhi picked them up and took them inside before they died of cold. Strange that flowers should be delivered to the wrong door again.
When her father came home, he squealed, theorized which club member they could be from.
"They're not from any club member," Haruhi said flatly. Of that she was certain. Perhaps Tamaki… no. Tamaki didn't feel that way about her.
Or did he?
Haruhi shrugged off the thought without entertaining it. She was the kind of girl who hadn't the slightest taste for those things. Or so she imagined. Romance was about to creep up on her, whether she liked it or not.
The next night, the doorbell rang again. This time, Haruhi answered the door prompty.
"I was told to give this to you?" It was the old woman who lived a few doors down from the Fujiokas. She was offering Haruhi a vase, identical to the others, this time holding daffodils.
"This is not a coincidence," her father corrected her cheerfully after hearing her explanation for the flowers. "Who wants to give these flowers to you?"
She thought for a moment. "I don't know."
Her father sighed. "You're so clueless!"
She blinked. "About what?"
"Kyouya-senpai?"
"Yes, Haruhi?"
"Did you ever actually eat my chocolate?"
The answer was unexpected. "Of course I did. Why not?"
"I thought you'd sell it. To my designators, like you did with my Hello Kuma pencil."
He didn't miss a beat. "Well, we can't let your designators know that you are female. I don't know of too many males who make chocolate on Valentine's Day."
"Ah, you didn't sell it because there was no profit in it," she said cheerfully. That was Kyouya-senpai, certainly.
"And of course there's a profit in keeping it, too."
Haruhi felt herself tense up a little. But just a little. "Hm?"
His lips curled up into a smile, and Haruhi couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "If I'd ordered chocolate, I would have had to pay for it."
No, that was Kyouya-senpai.
The flowers kept coming. For a few days, flowers were things she knew the names of: ivy, chrysanthemums, daisies.
And then, the old lady came over as usual with the flowers. These were yellow, small. Haruhi had never seen these before.
"Called silver weed, dear. Aren't they sweet?"
"Yes, they're very cute. I was just wondering… who told you to deliver these?"
Yes, the oblivious Haruhi actually had been curious enough that she'd finally begun to ponder about the mysterious flower sender.
The old woman grinned. "He said not to tell you, dear. But he was very handsome."
Any normal girl would have pressed for details – was he blonde or brunette? Short or tall? Was he wearing any sort of school uniform that the woman could identify?
But that was not Haruhi. "Oh, all right," she said, taking the flowers.
"There's this, too," the old woman added, holding out an envelope.
Haruhi neatly opened it.
In scrawled but legible writing, it read:
I told you to get rid of that naïveté.
Haruhi read the sentence a couple times, but nothing clicked in her mind. It sounded somewhat familiar, but she couldn't remember from where.
She took the flowers into the house, but did not tell her father about the note.
The next flower was not really a flower.
It was a cabbage.
Haruhi didn't understand. Was she supposed to eat it, or display it?
Haruhi ended up using it in the stew that night. But how kind of this flower sender to send her something practical!
Her father didn't see it that way. "It has to have some sort of romantic meaning!" he pouted.
"It did come with a letter," she said reluctantly. Her father, as she'd anticipated, jumped on this chance, and grabbed the paper from her hands.
"You were right. It's not just a theory, it's the truth."
Haruhi strained her brain. She could think about it all she wanted, but nothing was coming to mind.
"It makes no sense."
Ranka sighed and childishly rocked back and forth in his chair. "Think, Haruhi!"
The next delivery was the strangest yet.
"Here you go, Fujioka-san," the old woman, whose name was actually Uno Akino.
"Thank you," Haruhi said. "How's your husband doing? Has he cut down on his cholesterol intake? My friend's family knows a good amount about medicine, and when I spoke to him about it he said that if you can just cut down a little it could make for a huge turn around."
As you can see, she and her neighbor had, oddly enough, become good friends.
Uno just shook her head dramatically. "He's so stubborn, like all old men! He doesn't want to so much as think about it." Haruhi smiled brightly and gave a quick bow. "I hope he'll be in better condition soon."
"Thank you. You're so kind." She giggled girlishly. "No wonder this handsome young man is so attracted to you!"
Haruhi just held back a sigh. Uno-san could think of it however she wanted, but it was probably just Tamaki with one of his father-daughter outbursts. Or perhaps the twins playing with her.
Haruhi tore open the envelope. She flinched slightly at its contents.
"Haruhi! What is that? Are those your new flowers?" Haruhi clutched the envelope tightly to her chest.
"What's that? Haruhi, what don't you want to show me? I'm your father!" Ranka put his hands on his hips in a feminine manner.
"It's nothing," she said through gritted teeth. These deliveries were beginning to bother her… not to mention her father's juvenile enthusiasm.
"Let me see!"
Defeated, Haruhi held the photo out for him. It was the photo of her – a look of shock on her face – with her lips smashing into another girl's. There was a message on the bottom, written in the scrawl that somehow looked so familiar: Remember this? No? Give my regards to Ranka-san.
"Haruhi!" her father squealed, "is this your first kiss? Caught on camera?"
"By the ever so benevolent Kyouya," she huffed.
"I need to thank him," Ranka said lightly. Haruhi didn't notice, but an expression of realization had come onto his face.
To him, it was obvious. To Haruhi… well, Haruhi didn't seem to care.
"And what are these flowers? Ah!" They were a blue-purple, with long petals and a white-yellow center.
"I have no idea."
"They're lobelia flowers!" Ranka blurted excitedly.
"How do you know this?"
"…"
"You've been attending Zuka club performances again, have you?"
Haruhi fingered the light pink, heart-shaped petal. Her eyes darted to the clock, ticking away seconds that she should be studying. Her eyes wandered back to the desk, where she was concentrating on a small note.
Haruhi did not much want to figure this out, but her father had sent her off to the desk. He'd told her that it was the only way he would even consider talking down the framed picture of her kissing Kanako.
I never cared much for your commoners' coffee, but your commoners' malls aren't so bad.
Haruhi squinted at it. She was not able to understand these flowers, these messages.
Wait.
"Haruhi! I've picked out your pony!"
"Tamaki-senpai… I told you I didn't want a pony."
"Don't be silly! Just because you're in your teens doesn't mean you're not a girl at heart."
"I do not want a horse. Where would I put it?"
"At your-"
"Tono," Kaoru cut in, "Haruhi doesn't have a country house."
"Oh."
Haruhi sighed with relief. Now he would stop bothering her. She turned back to her book.
"I had its name all picked out," Tamaki whined, "I was going to name it Forget-Me-Not. And I could've called it Mimi for short!" Pause. His voice lowered. "Haruhi, you know," he said, tipping her chin up toward him, "'forget-me-nots' mean true love in the language of flowers."
She had swatted him away at the moment. It was just Tamaki being pesky. But now she realized there might be some hint in what he said…
She clapped her fist in her hand. "That's it!"
She pulled out the laptop that the Hikaru and Kaoru had gotten her for her birthday. It was one of the things she'd always wanted, so she was unusually nonresistant when it came to accepting and using it.
She typed in language of flowers and hit search.
Her eyes scanned the page of type with admirable speed.
All of the flowers she had been sent… each meant something. Sunflowers stood for pureness, and lofty thoughts. Daffodils stood for respect, and uncertainty. Daisies were innocence. Her latest flower, sweetbrier, stood for simplicity. Silver weed for naïveté.
Lobelia stood for malevolence, but coupled with the picture it was obvious that she was supposed to recall Lobelia Academy – and the incident where the Zuka girls had reeled her into their scheme to take her first kiss.
The fact that it was accompanied by that particular picture should have been hint enough, but the cabbage's meaning was actually the thing that brought her mind to him. Yes, she had been too blind to see it before.
Her lips parted. She mouthed the word silently: Profit.
Haruhi was never one to beat around the bush. When she walked into the host club that day, she was quick to cut to the chase.
"Kyouya-senpai," Haruhi said by way of greeting, "what do you know about blue roses?"
Kyouya didn't miss a beat. Haruhi was actually quite impressed with his knowledge.
"They're a fascinating species of flower. They were created by man, you know. Blue is not a natural color for roses, so botanists have been struggling over the ages to make it the perfect shade."
"I was searching the internet last night, and I came across a page with the meanings of flowers. Kyouya-senpai… why have you been sending me flowers?"
He just stood there, looking her solemnly in the eye.
He was paralyzed, to be completely honest. He had no idea that she'd be too abstracted to realize this on her own. And now, when it came down to saying it…
"Haruhi…" he borrowed Tamaki's worthy technique of looking at the lady from a lower vantage point. She just bent herself down so they were at the same level, her eyes still large and curious. He actually let out the beginnings of a laugh – though he managed to stifle it in time.
"Haruhi," there was a smile in his voice, an unusual thing, "the blue rose represents a wish for the impossible. Until a mere three years ago, there was no such thing a truly blue, natural rose."
She blinked once, furrowed her eyebrows. She blinked again. He just watched her, his eyes trained on her ever move.
"Wish for the impossible…"
He grabbed her and cut her off with a quick kiss.
She looked stunned.
His stomach gave a lt
"You don't feel the same way. I understand. Tamaki is coming up here right now, ready to give you your pony." His tone had only the slightest bit of bitterness – mostly it was even, controlled.
She began to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"Did you really think I wanted a pony?"
"Well, no, but-"
"A wish for the impossible. I like that. Although it's not very like you, Kyouya-senpai."
Kyouya's eyes widened slightly behind his glasses.
This was Haruhi, the only girl you could kiss and she'd hardly act like it happened.
"We all act a little bit crazy, sometimes," he said with a shrug. He fought the words from entering his mind, but they entered anyway: When you're in love.
a/n: You could all see that coming, ne? But the fact that cabbage meant profit… well, I was initially going to do Tamaki – or all of the host club, each sending her his own bouquet – but 'profit' just fit perfectly. (Sigh) I kind of wish I'd done Tamaki now, even though KyouHaru is my favorite couple.
Fascinatingly, the lobelia flower is also known as Asthma Weed, Pukeweed, and Vomitwort. Lovely.
Review! I really want to know what you think. Some parts came out well, some parts not-so-well. But I decided to post since I'd gone through all the trouble of writing it. This was written for the FRoP Valentine's Contest. xD