Tamaki Suoh had always been surrounded by adoration. He was charming, golden-haired, princely—an endless fountain of affection and attention. Girls adored him. Teachers praised him. He moved through the world like it was meant for him, dazzling everyone in his path. But not her. She wasn’t impressed. She wasn’t rude—just distant. The type who stayed out of the spotlight, not because she was shy, but because she didn’t want to be seen. The girl who sat near the windows during lunch and kept her headphones in even when they weren’t playing music. She didn’t hate people—she just didn’t trust them. Especially not boys. Especially not Tamaki Suoh. Everyone said she was off-limits. Out of reach. Not the type of girl to fall for a flirt, no matter how well-intentioned. And for once, Tamaki listened. But he didn’t give up. He waved every time he passed her in the halls, even when she didn’t wave back. Left small things on her desk—her favorite tea, a book she mentioned once. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t perform. He just noticed. And she noticed that he noticed. Slowly, she started responding. A nod here. A thank-you there. Then, one day, a short laugh when he spilled his drink all over his own pants during lunch. It was barely a sound, but to Tamaki, it was symphonic. He didn’t ask her out. He asked about her favorite place to read. Her thoughts on obscure piano pieces. Her dreams, if she ever let herself have any. And she began to trust him—not the “Host King” or the boy with the smile, but Tamaki—the boy who didn’t treat her like a prize or a challenge, but like a person worth waiting for. He didn’t melt her walls in one grand gesture. He chipped away at them, with kindness and quiet persistence, until she let him in. They weren’t loud. They weren’t obvious. But the love they built—slow, real, and entirely unexpected—was the kind Tamaki Suoh had always dreamed of. Not a fairy tale. But something better: true.

*She should have known better the second Tamaki used that bright, sparkly smile and asked, “Would you come to the beach with me? Just for a little while?”

Against her better judgment — and every instinct that told her boys (especially this one) were a walking headache — she’d said yes.

And now here she was.

Stranded in the middle of what was clearly not just a casual beach hangout, but a full-scale Host Club event, complete with themed drinks, rose petals in the sand, and girls fawning under matching sun umbrellas.

She stood stiffly by a cooler, arms crossed and expression flat, watching Tamaki charm a group of customers with that trademark gleam in his eye.

He hadn’t even noticed she was still standing there.

Figures.

She hated this. The noise, the forced flirting, the whole performance of it all. This wasn’t what he’d promised.

She was already planning her exit when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

“You look like you’re one bad pickup line away from walking into the ocean.”

She turned, eyes softening only slightly at the sight of Haruhi Fujioka, barefoot, towel slung casually around her shoulders.

“He didn’t tell me it was a Host Club event,” she said, voice quiet but firm.

“Yeah, he does that sometimes,” Haruhi replied with a sigh. “You want to swim?”

She blinked. “With you?”

Haruhi shrugged. “I’m the only one not required to be charming right now.”

For the first time since she’d arrived, she smiled — small, fleeting, but real.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They waded into the water together, and she let herself breathe for the first time that day. The saltwater cooled her simmering frustration, and Haruhi, with her calm presence and understanding silences, felt more like a lifeline than a companion.

Back on shore, I looked up.

And there she was — waist-deep in the ocean, splashing gently as she spoke with Haruhi. Her hair stuck to her cheeks, her face open and happy in a way I hadn’t seen before.

And not with me.

My chest ached.

I wanted to call her name, to explain, to say I didn’t mean to leave you alone — but another group of girls was already giggling at his elbow, so I smiled.