Tamaki’s eyes were dancing. “Haruhi, it’s the perfect time to take a photo for my Instagram history!”
“Story,” corrected Kaoru, lifting an eyebrow at him.
“Uh, I hate this,” said Haruhi, stepping back with vigor, seemingly unsure whether she should laugh or look concerned.
“I, personally, am proud of the progress we have made today,” said Tamaki, expression regal but focused, tapping at his phone with one finger like an old man. Hikaru watched over his shoulder, losing his shit over every typo.
Honey nodded in agreement. “Now that Tama-chan knows how to use social media, he can follow my account.”
Kaoru looked at him, sitting next to Mori. “Your account where you just post pictures of cake? That you find on Google Images?”
“Look at this meme!” Tamaki said, waving the phone in Kyouya’s line of sight.
Kyouya couldn’t look at it because Tamaki’s hand was a blur of excited movement. “Very funny, Tamaki.” His voice was a deadpan that was making it clear he did not, in fact, find it very funny.
“Mean,” said Tamaki. He swiped with his finger a few times with too much vehemence. Kyouya glanced up to see the angles of his eyebrows turn upward. “Wait,” he was saying, grabbing Hikaru’s shirt sleeve, “how do you guys have so many followers?” Hikaru tried to pry himself away to no avail. “How does Kyouya have so many followers?”
Haruhi felt a competition coming on. She attempted a subtle footstep towards the door.
“Haruhi,” Tamaki continued, even more distressed, “why don’t you have an account?”
“So you made an account,” Haruhi said, pausing to catch her breath, she was so annoyed, “-you made an account and it’s for me but you didn’t even ask me and I don’t even know the password.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what we did. The password is onemillionyendebt69. Feel free to change it.” Hikaru handed her his phone, covered in stickers, screen cracked more than any she had seen before. Haruhi wondered why he didn’t get it replaced, but maybe cutting the ends of your fingers on tiny pieces of glass was the new aesthetic, she didn’t know.
“Don’t change it, actually. It’s comedic genius.” Kaoru peered over her shoulder. “We used your school picture for your profile. And, lucky you, you already have eleven followers!” Haruhi stared at the tiny photos of several people she knew from Ouran and then a person whose name was “Free Nudes Now”. Haruhi figured this was not another student.
Tamaki scrambled over to look from the kitchen, where Honey and Mori were making some sort of dessert. Tamaki’s face was covered in flour fingerprints. It would have been endearing if Haruhi didn’t know every other layer of his personality. “Eleven!” he exclaimed. “In an hour!”
“Well,” said Hikaru, laughing haughtily, “keep it in your pants, Tono, you’re talking to two people with two hundred thousand each.”
Kaoru shoved Hikaru’s shoulder amiably. “I actually have two hundred and one thousand.” He ignored Hikaru’s protests that he was lying. “Because I’m the cooler twin. Obviously.”
“You probably bought them,” said Tamaki indignantly. “People do that. I’ve heard about it.” Haruhi was trying to find the button to delete her account but kept accidentally clicking Hikaru’s Twitter notifications because the screen was glitching or something. It was cracked, okay, she wasn’t completely technologically inept. She just didn’t see the use in a phone that did more than call people. Whatever.
“Oh, we should make you a Twitter, too!” Hikaru saw her try to quit the app, delighted.
“I don’t think Haru-chan would use it,” said Honey somberly, walking in with Mori to hand Tamaki a napkin. Kyouya turned a page pointedly from the leather couch in the corner, most likely irked at the swift takeover of his once quiet area.
They were at the twins’ house, this afternoon, for the first time- Haruhi had walked in and instantly felt the emptiness of it, the echoes of their footsteps in the halls. Half the blinds closed. The few servants skittering about, cleaning, chattering quietly, nodding at the twins. Amused looks. The hushed whispers that Haruhi figured were surprise at the number of fellow teenagers who had arrived to visit. On the upper floor, clothes everywhere; on the ground, on their bed, their closet stuffed with finely stitched trousers and seasons of shoes, every style. The twins had seemed nervous, anticipating their reactions, and the tour around the house had been a strangely odd one until Tamaki had jumped on their bed and said, “You could have the greatest rounds of tag in this place, I think,” and the twins had shoved him off the mattress onto the floor. Kyouya had only clicked his tongue at Haruhi, who looked at him for something, anything to say. It isn’t that dramatic, he was saying, and Haruhi decided it wasn’t. Anyway, Honey and Mori had wanted to bake. And so there was cake. And so they were fine.
And so Tamaki had realized he wanted an Instagram. It was hard for her to figure out what had led to this, but Tamaki apparently knew nothing other than how to use the camera and phone apps, which, while Haruhi didn’t have a smartphone of her own, she knew was the knowledge of an older generation who said things about the kids these days and the like.
“We’d have to get Haruhi an iPhone,” said Hikaru thoughtfully. Tamaki went over to steal Kyouya’s notepad and pen like he was going to take notes - Kyouya slapped his hand away.
“No,” said Haruhi.
“I don’t have one.” Mori was sitting down on the couch opposite Kyouya, expression peaceful if it had anything to it at all.
“You’re a dirty Android user,” said Kaoru, getting up to get some snacks or something, probably. It was that time of day where the twins got hungry and find and eat all the pretzels Haruhi would hide in the pantry of the club at school. These were not fond memories. Kaoru glanced back at Mori. “That’s why we aren’t closer, I think.”
“Mean,” said Tamaki again, patting Mori sadly. Mori nodded in tandem. Kyouya let out a bark of a laugh. Haruhi glanced over at him but by then he was again pretending to look at pages in his notepad.
“Gimme,” said Hikaru, not waiting for Haruhi to do so and taking the phone back. “Anyone got any pictures of Haruhi I can post? She’s definitely not going to let me take any right now.”
“I’m literally right here,” said Haruhi.
“Uh, yeah,” said Tamaki, unlocking his phone. Kyouya laughed even harder when Honey chimed in with, “I’ve got some old selfies!”
“What the fuck,” Haruhi muttered. “I’m going to delete this account when you’re not looking.”
“Sure,” said Hikaru.
Tamaki suddenly gasped. “What,” said Haruhi, rubbing at her temple.
“I forgot, I need to beat Hikaru’s follower count. And Kyouya’s. Obviously.”
“And Kaoru’s,” snickered Hikaru.
“I mean, yes. But he is the cooler twin, it’s okay if I don’t.” Tamaki grinned at Hikaru, who flailed at him in sharp irritation.
“Ugh,” said Haruhi. She plodded over to Kyouya, who was obviously only pretending to work on whatever the hell he usually worked on. “What do you post on your account, even.”
Kyouya handed him his phone, covered in a screen protector, case immaculate, a solid black. Haruhi gave him an amused look as she opened Instagram.
Kaoru, walked back into the room, a Capri-Sun in hand, Haruhi refusing to allow any other memories resurface from the day the others had first found them in her fridge. Kaoru slurped through his plastic straw with what Haruhi would only describe as violence. “He posts thirst traps.”
“What,” said Haruhi, looking at rows and rows of selfies Kyouya had taken, face serious in every one. “Oh.”
“I wouldn’t say they’re thirst traps,” countered Hikaru. “He posts, like, pictures that match his feed of buildings and shit but mostly has selfies. Boring content, if you ask me.”
“Oh, and you’re what, posting modern art?” Kyouya scribbled away with his ballpoint pen that Haruhi was sure was overpriced for something of its quality.
“Feed?” echoed Tamaki, scratching his head.
“Our posts are very funny,” replied Hikaru, ignoring him, “and I won’t be made to feel bad about it.”
“It says Kaoru is going live?” Tamaki pointed at his phone screen.
“Great,” said Kyouya, in a voice that again said it was not so.
“Hey, everyone,” said Kaoru in a tone Haruhi usually found he used when playing a prank on some freshman, “this is Tamaki Suoh. He made an IG today and while I can’t promise great content, he does have a nice face and is my best friend-“
“Okay, first of all-“ Tamaki held up a finger.
“Don’t follow him,” Hikaru butted in. “He’ll only post bad fit pics with the premade filters you get on this app, I can already tell.”
“Explain what that means-“ Tamaki was typing furiously. “I’m in the chat.”
“Oh, angry emojis. See, this is the sort of entertainment you’re in for, folks.”
“To the one thousand people following Kaoru and not me, I’d like to ask, why the fuck-“ Hikaru was pushing Tamaki out of the way.
“Follow dessertlove underscore tacocat,” Honey was saying, too, smiling almost sagely from over Tamaki’s shoulder. “Tacocat is spelled the same backwards and forwards. Dessertlove by itself was already taken.” He looked at Mori suddenly. “Oh! And follow-“
“Mori has no posts,” seethed Hikaru, viciously attempting to reach for Kaoru’s phone as he climbed over Tamaki, who was yelling.
Kyouya looked at Haruhi. “You go to your profile and then go to settings. Let me show you.”
“Oh, thank God,” Haruhi said as Tamaki and Hikaru yelped a collective shut up! as Kaoru headed away to the other room, saying he wanted someplace quieter to talk to his fans in private, it was hard being famous sometimes, cue the sigh.