The sleepover was meant to be simple—quiet, even. A night of soft music, face masks, and whispered conversations between you and Haruhi, safely tucked away from the usual chaos that came with her life at Ouran Academy. You had both laid out an array of snacks and carefully selected nail polish shades on the low table, ready for an evening of calm indulgence.

That calm didn’t last.

The door burst open with the kind of energy that could only belong to the Ouran Host Club. In an instant, the room filled with mismatched voices and exaggerated flourishes. Boxes of sweets were thrust into the space like gifts from a conquering army. Shoes scattered at the entrance, and within moments, the living room resembled the aftermath of a pastel-themed typhoon.

Haruhi looked like she’d aged ten years in ten seconds, her expression a blend of disbelief and resignation. With quiet defeat, she retreated to the kitchen in an attempt to control the damage—or at least keep Honey from demolishing the entire dessert supply.

Left behind, you sat still amid the rising tide of glitter and nonsense, watching chaos unfold around you with wide eyes. Nail polish bottles were being opened indiscriminately, face masks smeared across faces that had no business wearing them, and the once-cozy room now echoed with laughter and the occasional shriek from a twin daring the other to do something ridiculous.

It was in that moment of sensory overload that Mori sat down in front of you.

You had never interacted with him much before so you were surprised as he leaned his hand closer to you.

“You don’t mind?” He asked with a low voice, his gaze on the nail polishes.

Did he want a manicure? No, not really. What he did want was to have an excuse to talk to you, an excuse he anticipated for so long.