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“I think you should tell them,” Honey-senpai whispers. Of course, it carries across the nearly-empty marble and plush music room; Honey-senpai has very little actual idea of what it means to be quiet sometimes. He shoves a forkful of cake into his mouth and chews thoughtfully.Haruhi carefully carries the tea sets from the twins sitting area around their senpais to hear Mori’s response. They shouldn’t eavesdrop, they know that, but they can’t help but wonder. Tell who what? “Not sure,” Mori-senpai mumbles, leaning in to brush crumbs from Honey-senpai’s collar as Haruhi rounds the back of the couch.“I won’t make you,” Honey-senpai replies, actually quiet this time. “But I think Haru-chan would understand perfectly.”Mori-senpai makes a noncommittal noise. Haruhi pauses to scoop a cup and saucer from Kyouya-senpai’s side table.The two were talking about them , not a group, Haruhi realizes, setting the tray in the kitchenette area of the club room and starting to clear it off.Everyone else had already left for the evening; Haruhi stayed consistently to tidy up so the cleaning staff (because a rich-person private school of course wouldn’t rely on its rich students to clean this stupidly massive school on their own) wouldn’t have too tough a job with the music room.They try to pick up what else Mori-senpai says, but don’t catch it. Honey-senpai’s voice lilts across the room. “Take your time,” he says, “they’re still here!”Haruhi doesn’t mean to, but they beeline for the seniors’ couch, empty tray tucked under their arm. “Finishing your cake, senpai?” they ask, smiling.“Yup!” Honey chirps. “Do you wanna share?” he asks.“Well…” Haruhi starts. “I was really just doing some cleaning before I left, so I was gonna pick up the empty plates.” They motion to the stack on the table.“Oh…” Honey-senpai replies. “Okay.”Mori seems to shift uneasily beside him, and Honey slides Usa-chan into his lap with the hand not clutching a dessert fork. Mori gently rubs Usa-chan’s ears between his fingers.Haruhi puts the tray on the table and loads it with plates and teacups and saucers and silverware (that’s probably real silver, damn it), then carries it back to the kitchenette.“You almost did it!” Honey says. Mori’s response is inaudible. “Yeah, but I’m still proud of you. Wanna try again?”Haruhi unloads the tray again, stacking everything neatly, then returns to Tamaki’s area. They sigh. They’d left his til nearly last because--somehow--it ends up messiest of all of them, save Honey-senpai.They’re starting to stack saucers and arrange cups around them when Mori-senpai approaches cautiously, as though one wrong move could scare either him or Haruhi away--and they weren’t sure which.He doesn’t have Usa-chan anymore, so Haruhi assumes he means to help them. And he does. He begins gathering plates and dessert forks and parfait cups.He opens his mouth once, then closes it and swallows hard. Haruhi smiles comfortingly, and the twitch of the corner of Mori’s mouth is enough for them to start gathering napkins for the laundry.They wouldn’t admit it even if pressed, but they do pick up the napkins and occasional embroidered handkerchief of Tamaki’s (How many does he need ?) from the floor, table, and plush sofa with increasing slowness the more nervous Mori begins to show that he is.Haruhi pauses. Considers. Sets the double handful of cloth on the tray.“Mori-senpai,” they start. Mori tilts his head a bit. “Do you... maybe... want to tell me something?” they ask. They hope it’s done gently enough that it doesn’t sound rude or pushy, but the way Mori looks away from them--to Honey-senpai, who Haruhi can see is giving a double thumbs up from the corner of their eye--and back before nodding once tells them they were fine.Mori takes a deep breath. “I… like dresses,” he says.Haruhi blinks a few times, letting the words sink in. Mori likes dresses? Their dad likes dresses. “Like my dad?” they ask, and then immediately feel insensitive when Mori shakes his head and crams his hands in his pockets.“Like a girl,” Mori explains, voice soft, timid. Scared.Haruhi feels like a heel.Honey-senpai slides off his sofa and bounces over, then presses himself into Mori’s side. “Do you want me to explain?” he asks, curling an arm around Mori's middle.Mori nods, swallowing hard a second time.“She’s trans, Haru-chan!” Honey-senpai says, voice bright and one hand cupped around his mouth like he’s revealing a great secret. In all honesty, he probably was.It takes another second to actually sink in. “Oh,” Haruhi says, looking up at Mori. She’s looking anywhere but at them. “I’m sorry I compared you to my dad,” comes out on autopilot, followed by, “Should I call you something else?”Mori shakes her head. “Not in public,” she says.“O-okay,” Haruhi says, “What about in private? If it’s just you and me and Honey-senpai left in the music room?”“Kimiko uses she,” Honey interjects. “And you can’t tell anyone else unless she says you can,” he continues. “Right now, outside of me, you’re the only one that knows.”“Wait, seriously?” Haruhi balks, looking at Mori again.Mori nods. “Just you,” she confirms. Haruhi lets themself stare until Mori shifts uneasily on her feet.“I’m honored you trusted me,” they say, putting a hand on Mori’s arm. “Seriously, Senpai. Thank you.”They watch in fascination as Mori flushes pink.“I’m proud of you,” Honey says a moment later. It’s tiny and hesitant, but Haruhi can tell that her expression is genuine.