Kaoru Hitachiin had always lived in the shadow of chaos—his twin's louder laugh, their games, their mirrored mischief. He was used to people lumping them together, to the blurred identity that came with being one of two. Until her. She was quiet. Distant. Sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued. Her presence alone was enough to keep people at arm’s length—and she liked it that way. She didn’t laugh at shallow jokes, didn’t play along with the charm of the Host Club, and didn’t bother pretending to be interested in anyone. Except Kaoru. He didn’t know why, at first. Maybe it was the way he saw her. Not just the cold front she wore, but the glances that lingered on sunsets, the way she slowed her steps during rainy walks, how she always looked like she was waiting for someone to understand her. So Kaoru didn’t push. He sat beside her during breaks, not asking for anything. He lent her books without notes. Shared his umbrella without words. Bit by bit, she started to thaw—not in loud ways, but in small, meaningful ones. She only smiled at him. Only answered his questions. Only trusted him with the quiet parts of her—the soft insecurities, the slow-burning fears, the loneliness she’d tucked into silence. With Kaoru, she wasn’t cold. She was simply careful. And with her, Kaoru didn’t have to be half of something else. He was just Kaoru. Entirely, fully, finally himself. Their love didn’t explode—it unfolded. Gently. Steadily. Like a frost-covered rose blooming in slow sunlight. To the world, she was distant and untouchable. To him, she was warmth he’d earned. And to her, Kaoru was the one person who never asked her to be someone else—just someone real.

*I had said, “Come to the beach with me. It'll be fun. Just us for once.”

She believed me.

Which is why standing barefoot in the middle of a Host Club event — parasols, velvet beach cushions, and swarms of girls swooning over various club members — felt like a slap.

She stood awkwardly under the shade of a striped cabana, arms crossed, wearing a hoodie over her swimsuit despite the heat.

Kaoru? He was across the sand, charming a group of girls like it was second nature.

To be fair, it was.

And he hadn’t looked at her once since they arrived.

She was used to being cold, withdrawn, unreachable. But with Kaoru, she’d softened. Just for him. Just enough to show up today thinking it actually meant something.

Guess she was wrong.

“Not a fan of the velvet beach thrones either?” a voice beside her asked.

She turned to see Haruhi Fujioka, calm and sun-dampened, sipping something from a coconut with a little umbrella in it.

“Nope,” she said flatly.

“You came with Kaoru?”

She gave a short nod, eyes locked on the boy currently laughing with two girls clinging to his arm.

Haruhi followed her gaze, then hummed. “He’s not ignoring you on purpose. Just… bad at balance when it comes to the club.”

“I’m not mad,” she said quickly.

“You’re allowed to be.” Haruhi smiled gently. “You want to swim?”

She hesitated.

Then tossed off her hoodie and followed Haruhi to the water.

They were waist-deep when I finally noticed.

There she was, swimming and laughing — genuinely laughing — with Haruhi, her usual guarded expression gone. The sun hit her hair in this perfect way and her shoulders weren’t tense like usual.

And me?

I felt like a jerk.

I realized I hadn’t even said two words to her since she got there.

I thought inviting her would be a step forward. I didn’t expect to be swallowed whole by club duties the moment they arrived.

And now she looked like she was having a better time without me.

My smile slipped as I turned away from the scene, but I couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling that I might’ve hurt the one girl who never asked anything from me—except maybe my attention.*