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It turned out Tamaki couldn’t keep it in his pants. Unlike most men it wasn’t about him or his need to f-k, it was that he could never pass up the opportunity to make someone else feel good. He was a flirt and when girls flirted back Tamaki was too easily seduced. Still Haruhi had taken him back, over and over. Tamaki had promised it wouldn’t happen again, over and over. But it became one time too many, and it had burned too much. It still hurt to think about.
It didn’t make Haruhi any better to think that what she had had with Hikaru was a rebound of dramatic proportions. One night where Tamaki had been in someone else’s arms and then Haruhi was in Hikaru’s bed. It was worse that she knew he was still in love with her, and she was imaging another man.
Sometime she figured it would have been easier if she had been into girls. She and the Zuka club could have had their fun, in long skirts and fake moustaches then sung their way into the sunset. For that Haruhi would also have to be able to sing.
What she had with Kyoya had been sweet, for the short while it lasted. But they was never any merit in it, for either of them.
To make matters worse, what she had with Kaoru had been a pity f-k. One that hurt him and his brother, and certainly didn’t heal Haruhi.
After that night Honey picked her up, fed her cake and tucked her into his bed, leaving her to simply sleep. She had woken up to find Mori there, with tea and aspirin. What she still had was friends, and that meant more than anything.