Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction ❯ Commoner Food ❯ Chapter 1

An: entry in mediaminer's May maximum challenge drabble contest

 

Drabbles must be between 100 and 500 words long.

The Story Type must be "Vignette"

The theme for the contest is "Lessons Learned"

 

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club, Bisco Hatori does. This is a work of fan fiction not to be mistaken for an official part of that property.

 

 

 

`Oh my, that wasn't a fart.' The thought went through Tamaki's head like lightening as a warm wetness spread across the seat of his pants. His stomach had been rumbling all morning and he had been passing a lot of gas. It was undignified and embarrassing but there was nothing he could do to help it. Now he was in urgent need of a restroom. He rushed through the halls of Ouran Academy as the warm brown liquid began to trickle down the back of his thigh.

 

“Clear the way this is an emergency!” he shouted as he plowed through anyone in his path. He charged through the nearest men's room door and into a stall not even bothering to close it. As he was dealing with his lower quadrant his stomach gave a lurch and he made a mad grab for a nearby wastepaper basket, pulling the small receptacle into his lap to vomit in it.

 

After the wave of nausea subsided, he looked up weakly to see Haruhi standing in the open doorway of his stall. She said something about going to get some of the stomach medicine they kept on hand in case any of Hunny's designees overdid it on cake and vanished.

 

Tamaki leaned over against the wall of the stall, he was shaky and sweaty and probably ghostly pale. He just had to smell extremely bad too. “Just let me die now,” he muttered under his breath. He really hadn't wanted Haruhi to see him this way. The only saving grace was that the wastepaper basket in his lap had kept his private area, well… private.

 

He remembered walking Haruhi home last night when he spotted a food cart. She said it was a bad idea, but he insisted on trying more “commoner food.” Haruhi tried to tell him to order a noodle bowl, since noodles are boiled fresh. He didn't listen; he had to try the yakitori skewers. They had tasted all right at the time…

 

He could hear Kyouya talking to Haruhi just outside the men's room door.

 

“You shouldn't go in there,” he told her.

 

“Why not? I am wearing a boy's uniform,” Haruhi pointed out. “Besides, I feel it is partly my fault he is sick. I really should have tried harder to tell him how dangerous cart food can be.”

 

“Even so, seeing Tamaki like this would only embarrass him, Haruhi.”

 

“Too late for that,” Tamaki muttered miserably, just before vomiting again. A comforting hand rubbed his upper back as he suffered through the waves of nausea.

 

“I have arranged for an ambulance to take you to the hospital, where you will be treated for food poisoning,” Kyouya said. “Everything will be ok Tamaki,” he added as he opened the bottle of medicine.

 

Tamaki gagged as Kyouya poured medicine into his mouth. His whole body felt horrible, especially his stomach. He had learned his lesson. He was never going to eat anything from a mobile restaurant again.