A/N- Oh, I had fun with this chapter. –cackles evilly- Also, FREE KURIBUN FOR THE 100TH REVIEWER!!!
-coughs- That’s what… only twelve reviews away? And now, for some old news.
I made Harry such a wiener. -groans- Now that I look back, I cannot believe I stooped this low for the mere sake of comedy. Forgive me, my precious readers. You deserve better from me. I will go back like the dog I am, and fix his terrible personality and cliché ukeness.
Also, a shoutout to Somegirl-Morning! Thank you for bringing me back to my senses. I had lost sight of where this was heading, and I’d like to thank you for the dash of cold water. Yes, this has gotten a bit too goofy for my tastes. –bows humbly- I appreciate it very much, milady.
Now, I shall make one thing clear. The final pairing has been decided (even though technically, this is the ninth-turned-sixth chapter). No more trying to sway my vote. You have been forewarned. So, is it Tom, Kyouya, or a threesome? –shrugs- You’ll see. I’m considering making this Mature for some explicit scenes… any opinions?
And to those who responded to my plight last chapter, thank you. Now, one lucky winner shall get a… gift! Participants are everyone from the last A/N chapter. –draws out a raffle ticket- And the winner is… DUN DUN DUN… Rin Hitokiri!
Muse: -stares blankly- That’s because she’s the only one that responded to your so-called gift and you got tired of waiting for the other of your so called participants to respond to your PM.
Me: …My, do you hear a fly buzzing? –shoves her muse back into her conscious- Eh heh, don’t mind her. Also, this is a bit of an info-slash-fashion-overload chapter as well. I honestly thought I died researching all those clothing. –grimaces-
Kudos to Crystallyn (I would’ve loved for you to but I understand), blackroses2433, Kai Minomono, Lady Knight Keladry, SilverMichaels, Katsy17, hpets (-hugs-), Marauder Heir, and himitsuri for reviewing the last chapter (coughtheA/Nchaptercough).
Everyone, thank you all for your reviews so far, but these two (Rin Hitokiri and Crystallyn) helped weigh in my decision to give you a better-quality chapter. –winks- You should thank them, y’all! So, Rin-san, get ready for a little guest appearance!
I haven’t done this for a long time… so I’ll do this now. I do NOT own anything except the structure of this chapter. This means, the world of Ouran High School Host Club belongs solely to Bisco Hatori, the characters of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, any brands mentioned here to their respected designers, the assortment of colognes to their manufacturers, Chelsea Dagger to the Fratellis, all the characters to their respected mangakas, and Desire Climax to Ayane Ukyō.
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Trivial Affections
Chapter 7
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“Wonderful, you found me another suitor?” Fleur Delacour questioned, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her silvery-blond hair around her finger. Underneath her long lashes, her pale blue eyes peered stonily at her father.
It had been a rather uneventful evening really before her father decided to storm into her room uninvited.
Monsieur Delacour, her father, was a reputable business typhoon in the leading industry of women’s wear. Throughout his life, he had been known to be a jovial man, pleasantly plump and plentiful of helpful tips. Now however, he looked simply enraged, ruthlessly stroking his pointed black beard to reflect his inner turmoil.
Raising his voice to protest, he said, “Fleur, ma fille aimée, you must understand. ‘E comes from a respectable family, and my duty as your father is to secure your future. You know I always want ze best for you.”
“I love Bill,” she deadpanned, successfully hiding a frown behind her hand as her father scrunched his face up in blatant mortification at the mere mention of his name. “Mon Dieu, father! Why do you ‘arbor such contempt for ‘im?”
“You will not mention ‘is name in my ‘ouse,” he exploded, dragging a hand roughly through his hair peppered with specks of white. “You understand me, femme?”
Ever since his beloved eldest daughter had been introduced to that abhorrent archeologist in the Beauxbatons Academy, she came back a changed woman. Not to mention the fact she was minor and he two times her senior—she was still in high school—she was also dating an older prétendant who held no regards to common etiquette.
Ever since that delinquent came waltzing into her life, her grades had dropped beyond the point of sheer awfulness. Until now, never had anyone in the Delacour lineage received marks below a solid “A”. Imagine his surprise when Madame Olympe Maxime, the headmistress of the Beauxbatons Academy, mailed him his daughter’s first quarter report card, informing him that disciplinary actions will be taken if Fleur’s grades did not improve by the end of Second Quarter.
Aggravated, he threw his hands into the air for dramatic effect. “Fleur, what do I ‘ave to do to knock some sense into zat ‘ead of yours? Can’t you see nothing good will come from your illicit liaison with ze boy?”
“…Admit it, père. You ‘ave a personal grudge against ‘im.”
“‘E’s a dropout!”
“‘E only, as you put it, dropped out because ‘e wanted to get an early start on his career! School was only hindering ‘im from performing ze best of ‘is abilities.”
“’E’s a Weasley! ‘Is mere presence has already affected you in a negative way. Just look at your grades.” His hands dove into the pockets of his silky bathrobe and came out with the crumpled sheet of her scores. “Regardez, Fleur!”
She gave a tiny shake of her head and with endeavor, she calmly stated, “You’re overreacting, Mon Dieu! I assure you zat I am still on top of my classes despite my one ‘B’.”
“Precisely Fleur, a ‘B’,” he groaned, his voice almost drowning in the sea of whispering household servants. He tactfully chose to ignore them, choosing to concentrate on his weary daughter. “No one in the entire Delacour history has ever gotten a ‘B’. I am at my last straw. Fleur, please, from a father to his daughter… please consider going out with who your mother and I chose for you rather than Weasley.”
Her stiff mask slipped, softening slightly at his pleading tone. Gently, she replied, “Father, you know I love Bill. You can’t force me to choose between you and the man I adore.”
Crestfallen, he presented the very image of a defeated elder with shoulders hunched and gruff features set in a mask of disproval. With a sad, fleeting look passing across his somewhat-handsome face, he started, “To think you’d actually defy your parents.” Inclining his head to resemble a curious bird, he studied the cool façade she instantly adopted at his scrutiny.
Interesting…, he briefly thought. “Very well. If zis boy is someone you’re willing to spend ze rest of your life with, then I propose a bet.”
“A bet,” she parroted, her eyes flashing uncertainly. She simply arched a bleached brow in response.
“I will,” here he paused momentarily before giving out a choked, “acknowledge your relationship with ze boy if you agree to zese conditions. Since loverboy is somewhere in ze United States—Egypt, was it?—you will attend St. Lobelia Girl's Academy, one of the most prestigious private institution in ze East. From what I understand, ze school excels in promoting creativity, interdisciplinary ‘ought, and well-roundedness.”
Her arctic decorum fading fast at his remark, she openly gaped at her father sporting newfound confidence at each word uttered. “Mais-”
“-Do not question me, mademoiselle Fleur Delacour!” he quickly interjected, now booming over the twittering behind him. “If I can see zat you can support yourself without ze intervention of your boyfriend and still acquire ‘igh marks in a different environment ‘ousands of miles away from ze Weasley brat, I might reconsider my probable disownment of your rank. You will have my blessings. However, if I get wind of anything less zan expected from my eldest child, zen you can kiss your ami goodbye. I will renounce you.
“I am sick and tired of your behavior and frankly, I am appalled you would dare raise your voice against your mother—a woman who suffered ‘ell and back only to receive what? Nothing except your recent bouts of selfishness, zat’s what! Zat is why I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself. If ze atmosphere of pure-bred, courteous girls capable of civil conversation cannot change your unruly ways, zen I see you are beyond hope.
“So, I am withdrawing you from Beauxbatons and enrolling you in another. Today, you will be departing in our private jet. You may bring one of our ‘ousehold domestiques to accompany you as you get situated in Japan.”
Incredulous, she could only stare dumbly at her father, clearly winded from the long rant. “You cannot possibly send me off and expect me to live ‘ere for fours years,” she hissed, her alto voice low and husky. “What about my friends? What about my-”
“-I suggest you start packing your bags,” her father said coldly, jerking a thumb at the crowd gathered round at the threshold of her room. “Now, choose your companion for ze next four years of your ‘rial.”
“Fine,” she snapped, pointing at a squat maid staring shell-shocked at the manicured finger pointing at her. “Myrtle, get over here.”
“HER?”
“M-me?” the lucky maid stuttered, twisting a chunk of her dark, lank hair round her stubby fingers. She nervously adjusted her thick glasses, pushing them up her acne-pocked face. She quickly shuffled over to her mistress’s side, fiddling at the hem of her green skirt.
“Yes, you, Myrtle!” the blonde sighed, pinching at her temples. “Don’t ‘ell me ‘ere’s another Myrtle zat I don’t know about.” Slightly miffed, Fleur turned her attention back to her father. “And in contrast to your set conditions, I wish to set a few myself. First off, I want Myrtle ‘ere to receive ze same education as I. As my ‘raveling companion, I cannot expect any less ‘an the best. I desire to converse with ‘er at a certain intellectual extent but I cannot do so with ze current level of ‘er schooling. So, she has to accompany me throughout all my classes, learning what I learn and knowing what I know.”
Monsieur Delacour waved his hand flippantly through the air. “Zat can be easily arranged.”
“And because I know you’re such a considerate man, I only ‘ave one more request.”
“Diamonds as a farewell gift?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I only require you provide me ze benefit of a doubt, and allow any tête-à-tête with whoever I want. And yes, zis includes Bill and my sister, Gabrielle.”
His jaw clenched involuntarily at the offhand mention of the Weasley’s name again. Gritting his teeth and thrusting his hands into the pockets of his purple bathrobe, he painstakingly kept the contempt from shadowing his next words. “Do what you please if it gets me my desired results. By ze way, you do not ‘ave ze luxury of small talk. Our pilot, John Philippe, will be waiting for you outside by ze hanger. It should only ‘ake you an hour at ze most. I suggest you do not make ‘im wait any longer zan necessary.”
Taking his leave, his silken robes billowed dramatically out behind him as he waddled out of her room. Pausing for a moment, he stopped and thoughtfully stroked the pointed scope of his beard. “Oh and also, pack only ze necessaries. A plane can only ‘ake so much.”
A small smirk gracing his lips, he skipped happily away with a bounce to each step he took. He didn’t need to look back to confirm the flabbergasted look on his daughter’s face. Yes, I still got my groove on, he thought with utter glee. With Fleur out of ze house and Gabrielle still not past puberty, Apolline and I get ze ‘ouse all to ourselves. No more disruptions!
Of course, he did not mention any of this to his beloved elder daughter.
Figures.
As Monsieur Delacour cackled his diabolical schemes to himself, the servants scurried away after his leave, leaving our two females all to themselves.
Myrtle glanced at the young mistress out of the corner of her glasses, and rolled her eyes at the bored look on the blonde’s face. It was just her luck be stuck with the young heiress when she could be watching anime. And I wanted to watch the new BL series today, she wailed to herself. My anime! Coughing loudly to shake the blonde out of her dazed reverie, Myrtle headed into Fleur’s walk-in closet and lugged out a huge travel case. “Well, young mistress. You heard the Master. We must start packing your-”
“-Wait, wait. …If we’re departing ‘oday,” the young heiress started slowly, her eyes widening comically past the point of saucers. “Where are we supposed to live for ze next four years?”
“…Crap.”
‘Meanwhile, a few days later in Japan….’
“Sod off, you snakey git.”
“Harry, for the twentieth time already, I am truly sorry for what occurred in our annual Christmas Ball,” Tom said, clearly exhausted from being in his current kneeling position for hours at end. “I cannot possibly ask for your forgiveness and I am glad the silent treatment has dissipated, but must I endure more? I don’t know what came over me and on behalf of my brother, I offer my profound apologies-”
It had been about six days—but to be punctual, it was actually six days, thirteen hours, forty-seven minutes, and point two seconds—since the incident That-Shall-Not-Be-Named transpired. Irritatingly enough, the freshman clung to his stubborn ways and refused to forgive the sophomore who unfortunately dealt the delivering blow to both their reputations.
To think the bitter vice-president would resort to begging the recently promoted club dog for forgiveness. …The horror—not to mention the fact “Kiss-a-Holic” was recently added to Riddle’s aloof status.
And of course, he wouldn’t be here beseeching the boy if it hadn’t been under the orders of the eccentric king. Tom groaned, shifting so that he sat on his haunches. Damn, the pain was getting to him. To make matters worse, his feet was numb and putting pressure at the soles of his feet added a whole new level of awkward sensation.
Hey, it was routine for him to kneel before Harry ever time the boy entered the Music Room to start his hosting duties. Worse yet, he had to stay in that position until the freshman decided to finally leave the room, leaving Tom staring sadly at where the boy once stood. He missed conversing with the boy even if all their interactions were made up of their daily quips and teasing.
Sentimental, much?
Harry pinned the most murderous glare he could muster up at the sophomore, ignoring the equally heated glowers directed at the back of his head. “You know, all I was aiming for was a chaste peck on the cheek, but you had to force us into a liplock. And then, the situation spiraled way out of control—with a man, no less!”
“Again, I wish to point out the twins tripped me and that led to the liplock. I admit was acting irrational—jealous to a certain degree and damnit, I will not explain again—being your first kiss and all, but I didn’t expect this to be blown out of proportion. I simply did not consider the consequences of my actions and might I mention I was not the only one who shared the same-”
“-Oh no, don’t you drag Haruhi into this.”
Tom scowled, cutting short an exhale of indignation. “Look, you know very well I was not the only one against the kissing-”
“-Yeah, but you were the only one that caused this in the first place.”
“Again, the twins. So, now for the twentieth-first time, I’d like to offer my sincere apologies for doing something so incredibly stupid that probably traumatized you for life. Please forgive this idiot in front of you, and let bygones be bygones?”
Heaving a frustrated sigh, Harry grudgingly accepted the twentieth-first try. “Fine, fine. This is probably gonna bite me in the arse later on, but apology accepted.”
Ducking his head and grumbling under his breath, Tom mumbled an almost inaudible, “Took you long enough.”
“Don’t get me wrong. As funny as it is to see the almighty Tom Marvolo Riddle groveling at my feet, it was getting kind of annoying.” He snuck a quick peek at the sophomore’s female entourage, swallowing hard at the intense looks tossed his way. Ack, he thought. Fangirls and their unshakable devotion to their choice of players.
The elder host followed his gaze, smirking faintly when his crimson gaze landed on his devoted lambs. “Aah, if my female version of the Death Eaters,” he teased, “alarms you, then you should see Bellatrix Lestrange.”
“Bellatrix?”
“An urchin so completely enamored with me that she used to stalk the outside premises of the orphanage,” Tom explained, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I swear, sometimes I still see her haunting me outside the grounds of the Ohtori Mansion. She’s very much like Renge, the little one.”
“Uh, you know… as much as the topic of stalking interests me, I have absolutely no clue as to who you’re talking about.”
“Renge Hoshakuji, a girl captivated by my brother’s charms,” he sneered, rolling his scarlet eyes at Harry. “I don’t see how come you’ve missed her all these months. She’s like the bloody typhoon. You can’t miss her.”
“You mean the carrot-top I see hanging off his arm whenever I pass by the Student Office?”
Tom chuckled, “Right on the dot.” Pushing himself off from the arrangement of marble tiles set into the floor, he stretched languidly, his close-fitting wife beater sliding inches up from his midriff. Instantly, eyes were glued onto the tantalizing show of skin and many mouths watered.
It didn’t help that the man chose to slip on a pair of low-rise, elegantly cut satin trousers barely hanging off the jut of his hips.
Tugging nervously at his starched collar, Harry quickly averted his gaze anywhere but at the club’s vice-president. Hearing a satisfied purr coming from the other’s throat, Harry looked back curiously and instantly regretted it. Great, the man was smirking at him now.
Smug bastard.
‘And as time skips forward, our two Frenchwomen find themselves in Japan, right in the heart of the St. Lobelia Girl's Academy, an all-girls’ boarding school.’
“…And yeah, this school is pretty amazing but I doubt it can match the widely acclaimed Beauxbatons,” Senior Rin Hitokiri concluded, finally coming to a halt in the school courtyards. The fourth-year undergraduate was a rather attractive African American girl, her mocha colored skin an exotic indulgence to tired eyes. Her deep set of brown eyes had darkened to the point of black when Fleur fretted over her, praising the senior for the softness of her curled midnight tresses.
Fleur sent a silent scoff at her words, eyeing the school grounds of the institution with transparent dislike. The founders of St. Lobelia must have a fixation for Persian blue, she mentally concluded, staring up at the lush greenery decorating the rims of the water fountain. Everywhere she went, the white sheen of the tiles greeted her vision and the whiff of various feminine perfumes decorating the blue-tinted halls brought new waves of nausea. “I concur, she said dryly.
Myrtle moaned, scrubbing her hands over her face. “And to think I’d be used to wearing weird clothes. But ick….” Pointing at the burgundy knee-length pleated skirt she had been forced to put on, she hurled a pout at her mistress equally sharing in the chagrin.
Fleur rolled her eyes and gave an affirmative nod of her head. Holding in her breath from the scent of traveling strong fragrance, she mirrored Myrtle’s action, only she was far more violent with each downward plunge. “You know, I ‘old rather ‘igh regard when concerning ze Asian-fusion ‘rend. I just ‘appen to share ze same sentiments of ‘ow ‘ighly ridiculous zis uniform is.”
Before she headed to the academy, she threw on the same standardized uniform she had been given upon arrival in the foreign state. Like Myrtle, the upper part of her clothing consisted of a sailor-style collar that ran down and melded with the sheer white of the silken blouse. Laced through a barely discernible loop attached to the blouse, a latte-tinted ribbon with splayed ends resembling that of a rippling butterfly was tied in the front, nestling in the center of her breasts.
Their student guide examined the offending garment with amusement, poking the skirt and laughing at the flabbergasted look gracing the blonde’s face. Grinning, she playfully slapped the foreign-exchange student on the arm. “Oh yeah, the seifuku. I know the uniform looks Sailor Moon-ish, but you have to bear with it as long as you’re stuck here. And don’t complain about the color. Unlike me and my friend Myrtle here, the color does wonders for your fair complexion!”
‘St. Lobelia Girl's Academy…. It is truly a woman’s paradise. Boasting over thirty years of history, it is a gathering of maidens, by maidens and for maidens.’
Peeping over her shoulder and affirming they were out of range for potential eavesdroppers, she crooked a finger, signaling for the two transfer students to lean in. Warily, the two did just so to satisfy the tendencies of their curious natures.
“Alright, you’re probably gonna think I sound crazy but trust me, this school is pretty whacked,” Rin warned, her hand in near proximity next to her lips. “Sooner of later, you’re gonna meet the school’s three princesses.”
Fleur raised an elegant brow, tilting her head to a side. “Princesses… ze academy admits genuine sovereigns?”
“Tch, no. They’re a bunch of… you know.” Rin looked over her shoulder again and lowering her voice below a whisper, she mumbled, “The ‘L’ word.”
Myrtle’s ears perked, her face taking on a flushed tone. Eager, she stammered breathlessly, “You mean… lilies? As in a shoujo-ai, girl on girl live-action?”
“…If you mean total eccentric lesbos, then yeah.”
Fleur cast a coy smirk at the exotic senior. “Oh, lesbiennes? It is to be expected since zis is an all-girls’ boarding school.” Heh, she inwardly chuckled. I bet Bill would get a laugh out of zis if ‘e was ‘ere.
“Um, you don’t understand. When I mean ‘total eccentric lesbos’… I mean, total ECCENTRIC lesbians. Trust me, since you’re the newest transfer student this late in the school year—and we don’t get a lot of foreign exchange students, might I add—I’m giving you a heads-up before you eventually meet one of them. Now, there’s the Lady of the Daisy, Hinako, the youngest member of the club's leading council; the Lady of the Lily, Chizuru, the vice; and the worst of the bunch is the Lady of the Red Rose-”
‘With benevolence and virtue as their motto, the school seeks to make young ladies out of girls. However, those who hold this secret kingdom is not the headmistress but rather the reigning force on campus would be the….’
Out of the blue, the tooting of a shrill whistle sounded and the blasting of drums that accompanied the deafening noise didn’t cease to stop the young heiress’s exasperation. A voice shouted, “Make way, make way! Let Lady Benibara through.”
“-BENIO AMAKUSA,” Rin finished, yelling over the noise.
The drums built up in tempo, beating away at a frenzied pace as a lone figure came to view. Sighs and girlish squeals rang in the blonde’s ears, each echoing loudly as the persistent twittering came nonstop. Swiveling her head, Fleur growled at the commotion, suppressing the urge to call for silence.
Great, a pounding migraine now joined her homesickness.
Myrtle stuffed her fingers in her ears, fruitlessly trying to block the clamor. “…WHAT’S UP WITH THE RACKET?”
“IT’S THEIR FANCLUB!”
“WHAT?”
“FANCLUB!”
“Hold up, girls!” a girl with a T-shirt emblazoned with the dialect “Master Benibara's Guardian Club Official” running across her chest, cried, waving back the sudden horde of screaming girls. “Hey, you! No breaking ranks! Everyone, keep to your rows. Lady Benibara wants a look-see at the new exchange students!”
“My, my girls. You all look delectable as always.” A soft-spoken yet authoritative voice spoke up, cutting through the piercing shrieks like a dash of cold water. Immediately, all the girls parted from the middle, each dashing to a side to make way for the voice. The girls in the front of newly-formational rows sank to their knees, staring up at the approaching figure with admiration reflecting their reddening faces.
A towering brunette came into the trio’s line of vision, an attractive female amidst the flood of maidens. Xanadu-grey eyes shifting left and right, Benio smiled at her adoring fans, flicking her long side bangs skillfully in a grand display of splendor. Squeals ensued in reaction.
Coming to a stop, she beamed at the Frenchwomen, her arms swept to take a flourished bow. “Beautiful maidens, I welcome you to St. Lobelia. I presume you are our new transfers?”
‘…The White Lily Society or what is commonly known as the Zuka Club, an association formed by young ladies for the lilies blooming amongst the Garden of Eden.’
Remembering her manners, Fleur curtsied in response, nudging Myrtle hard in the ribs. Myrtle gave a small yelp and she scrambled to do the same—albeit clumsily. The heiress murmured, “No need to greet us, mademoiselle, ‘ough we do appreciate ze sentiment.”
Eyes twinkling, Benio nodded, appraising the fair beauty before her. “And I see you are French. Despite the thick enunciation, I must commend you for your fluency in Japanese.” Once again, she bowed courteously and this time, took Fleur’s hand—startled, the blonde grimaced at that—studying her with dark, probing eyes.
At last something seemed to satisfy the brunette as her head bowed down and swiftly, she placed a chaste kiss at the young heiress’s hand.
…Merde.
Shrieks of jealously soon followed.
Myrtle stared openly, slack-jawed at the sheer audacity of the other. Ohhhhhh my goooosh, the fan girl side of her musically squealed. Yuri! Eager to share the news, she turned to look for Rin only to find their student guide had disappeared. …Huh, where did she go?
“My dear maiden,” Benio said, unaware the said maiden looked ready to commit murder. “Your beauty exudes such exquisiteness, your radiance becoming! Oh, should lightening strike me where I lay at this moment, I shall die a happy woman. But fear not, I shall wait for you at the doors of paradise, free to envelope you in my arms and continue our rendezvous in the afterlife.”
Fleur’s right eye twitched violently at the gesture. Quickly, she hid the spasm behind the hand she wrenched out of the other’s grip, twittering politely at the words of the Zuka Club President. Plastering on a forced smile, she painstakingly replied, “Merci, mademoiselle… Benibara? Fret not; ze wrath of paradise is far too busy to send you to your early grave.”
Like how the French did it, she averted her eyes from the blinding smile. Hopefully, the female president took the hint that the young heiress was not interested.
Ecstatic at the atypical reaction, Benio could have clapped her hands together in utter glee. Finally, a challenge! “Please, Benio, my sweet maiden. For you, you may call me by my given name.” Outraged protests ensued, but she paid no heed to the clamor. “Truly, we are blessed with your admittance. Aah, quel belle sourit. Et la seule chose que tes yeux ne me disent pas, c’est ton nom.”
Fleur gave a tight-lipped smile. If this was what Rin had meant, then eccentric lesbian indeed. “…Thank you for complimenting my smile, Benio. I am Fleur Delacour and before you ask, no, I am not interested. Certainly you are rather charming, but I already ‘ave a boyfriend.”
Benio’s eyes widened tremendously, and she backed away with quickened fervor until her elbows bumped against her nearest fan in sight. Her lipstick smeared lips quivering in a dejected manner, she made odd choking noises at the back of her throat. Her hand trembling as she lifted it up with difficulty to point at the newcomer, she stammered, “B-b-b-b-boyfriend? …As in those abhorrent, egotistical brutes with absolute uncongenial, beastly behavior and burr? You are DATING a lower life form with several qualms to see WOMEN on equal terms?!”
“Désolé, Benio, Bill is not like zat.” A frown made its way down the blonde’s lips. “Right, Myrtle?”
Myrtle nodded ecstatically at the mention of her name. “Bill is actually pretty nice… he’s like a real-life Ichigo Kurosaki from Bleach. He looks tough on the outside but he’s a total Daisuke Niwa on the in.”
No one bothered to mention they didn’t understand a word uttered from the girl’s mouth except for the devote anime fans. But, all the recognition was cut short by the wails belonging to the countless number of females. The brunette just stood there, looking ready to faint at any moment with her ashen visage and puckered brow.
“B-but… a man?” Benio said in disbelief, producing a handkerchief to dab at the corner of her eyes. She turned her head to stare down at a random girl from the crowd, both sharing equally mortified looks. “My dear, he has brainwashed you! Men are simply lower life forms who pretend to be chivalrous by saying those saccharine words in their own ineptitude to ensnare our fragile hearts. Am I right or am I right, maidens?”
“RIGHT,” the girls chorused.
“I see you lot are very acrimonious individuals indeed,” Fleur said wryly, ignoring the aghast looks directed her way. “Now, see ‘ere-”
“-OH MY GOSH, YOUR LADYSHIP! WHAT IN GOD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE WEARING NOTHING BUT A GARTER BELT?!” a voice that sounded suspiciously like a certain senior screeched, and many heads promptly twisted around to look for the sight. It was not uncanny for their unconventional principal to do something out of the ordinary, and no one would put it past her to pull such a stunt. Nonetheless, all wanted to catch a glimpse of the woman in skimpy clothing.
Their principal was rather youthful in appearance, really.
While the St. Lobelia students were frantically looking around for their headmistress, the senior quickly snuck to the transfers’ side, tapping them lightly on the shoulder. The Frenchwomen jumped, quickly smothering their startled cries as Rin winked, placing a finger on her lips as a signal for silence. Motioning for them to follow, she scurried away from the frenetic crowd.
Soon, the trio found themselves outside of the academy gates where Rin came to a sudden halt, causing the two to bump into her back. The two gave tongue-tied smiles.
Rin smirked, shaking her head. “See, what did I tell you? Total eccentric lesbos, huh?”
“A whole crowd of them,” Myrtle quipped. “Hey, is Lobelia a secret rendition for lesbians because I don’t think I’ve seen a single, straight woman around here. Hey, by the way, where are we going?”
“Well, to tell you the truth… I get sick of being around them sometimes,” she said, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. “So whenever I get the inkling to see some men, I sneak out of the school. So, you guys are pretty much free for the rest of the day. I’ve already shown you around the school, and I don’t think you want to go back and experience the whole ‘men-are-awful’ ignominy again. And oh yeah, Fleur, way to tell off the school’s biggest flirt.”
“Merci,” she said, inclining her head in token of gratitude. “I must admit, zis is ze first ‘ime I’ve seen zis much lesbians in an all-girls’ academy.”
“Tch, yeah, Lobelia is waaaaay different from the ones you’ve probably seen.”
Myrtle huffed, not liking it one bit at being ignored, and repeated, “Where are we going?”
“Why, we’re off to see some men-hunks, of course! Though I might warn you, you might get a heart attack when you first see them. Now, there’s Tamaki….”
‘The Host Club members welcome you to today’s main course—a selection tactfully chosen by the Shadow King himself. Being granted permission, our delectable hotties have donned an array of clothing set to tempt and entice your senses.’
“Umm, upperclassman Tamaki?” a girl tentatively began, twiddling her thumbs. “What made you decide to wear… um,” she broke off, too embarrassed to finish her sentence.
Tamaki leaned in and said encouragingly, “So as to be pleasing in your eyes.”
One blurted, “You’re hot!”
“It pales in comparison to your radiance,” he crooned, sweeping tapered fingers through his tumbled blond hair.
For today’s apparel, a black vest was slipped over his shoulders, effortlessly melding into his silhouette and leaving his arms deliciously bare. Underneath the open vest was his sleeveless taupe muscle shirt, and earlier he had shimmied into his white trousers with a glossy black alligator belt looped snugly around his waist. He looked just like a male model coming right from the photo shoot financed by a well-known fashion industry.
“Tamaki,” another began shyly, “how come you’re so beautiful?”
He tilted his head and cocked an elegant eyebrow, finding the question a little puzzling. “Why, it’s to be pleasing to your eyes,” he whispered.
A girl twittered, “And why is your voice so… sexy?” She twirled a strand of her cinnamon-shaded hair and found it so fascinating she averted the king’s steamy gaze.
“So my passion may reach the depths of your heart.”
‘Lineage first, money second… that’s the order of precedence in the high school division of Ouran institute, where the host is the main luxuriant recreational club.’
…At least he gets points for his originality, Harry contemplated to himself, staring from across the room at the interaction between a king and his swooning patrons.
The blonde spotted the freshman gazing at him disapprovingly and in good spirits, he playfully waved to Harry. Then in a lighthearted manner, Tamaki beckoned the new recruit over with a cherubic look of innocence in his wide-set eyes. Rolling his eyes, Harry grinned and nonchalantly flipped him off, stubbornly staying where he was—with Tom rubbing soothing circles on his back while entertaining both their regulars.
Going with today’s theme, the lights of the Music Room had been dimmed and energetic hip music blasted from invisible speakers tucked somewhere in the area. Heeding to the King’s instructions, the twins turned the volume down so that it wasn’t such a hassle to overhear and make small talk. To give a more exotic vibe, songs from American bands were played rather than from the latest Asian music artist. On the right—the space occupied by Harry, Tom, and the twins—neon blue spotlights coursed over their bodies, illuminating the hard planes of their figure. And to the left, hues of pink and purple cast a glow on the two juniors, and the one and only sophomore.
Since he was the apple in Tamaki’s eyes, Harry had been instructed to wear the pre-ordered assemble flown in from the most recent New York’s Fashion Week. Out of all the hosts, he was given the special treatment— à la mode scrutiny of how he fit into chic menswear and strict supervision in the changing rooms. Practically eager to showcase her collection in a foreign country, the up and coming designer Hermione Granger—mostly known for starring as Hermione Watson in Hogwarts: the Movie—shipped an entire rack of her menswear compilation immediately after being phoned. It took only a mere half a day for the collection to land in Japan to be carted off to Ouran High School.
Harry glanced down at his obligatory apparel he had been forced into, and grimaced at its complete scantiness. It didn’t really help that his clothing was far tighter than everyone else’s. A dark, evergreen sleeveless turtleneck hugged his torso, stretched tightly across his chest and loose at the bottom. Skinny leather pants were swathed around his legs, the black material wrapped snugly at his calves and thighs. A red wristband decorated with silver orbs hung from his wrists and at the end of his feet, he wore peep-toe platform boots.
“Something wrong, Potter?” Tom’s velvety voice cut through his reverie, startling him. Crimson eyes gazed curiously into verdant ones. “You don’t seem too tight.”
“Ugh, sorry. It’s just these clothes… it really constricts your breathing, you know?”
Tom chuckled, “I see. Well, you are our newest addition to the team. It is in our policy to flaunt the newcomer so we get a decent idea as to who you attract. Oh, do you mind serving the ladies over at the Hitachin table?”
Harry sighed, slowly getting up to his feet. “Sure thing. Do I have to do anything besides asking what they would like to drink?”
“Not particularly unless you want to risk stealing their girls,” he said coolly, smiling at the girl trying to engage him in mindless conversation. “I must warn you though, should the twins throw a fit, you are held responsible for all potential damages.”
“…Right, gotcha. Stealing customers is a big no-no.”
‘To be feted in a garden overflowing with handsome men who emits piquant cologne that subtly exudes masculinity, each tailored and designed to set the mood for romance.’
“Oh my, what’s that fragrance? It smells great!”
Hikaru grinned, leaning his chin against the palm of his hand. “It’s Acqua Di Gio by Giorgio Armani. Ms. Granger thoughtfully packed these cool hoards of cologne with the clothes, and we like this scent. It’s spicy, fruity, and it gives off this sophisticated yet rebellious vibe.”
Chosen from the rack of imported clothing, Hikaru selected a white denim shirt with green strips running down the sides of his torso and his rolled up sleeves, the shirt layering the rainbow-lined tank underneath. A black and white checkerboard-patterned scarf with fringes decorating the hem was draped over his shoulders, almost cutting off the company logo printed on the back of his shirt. Tanned, loose-fitting cargo pants flowed along his legs and at the cut, multicolored basketball shoes decorated his feet. Three bands and a silver chain ran across his wrists, each building up in darker shades.
The girl with chestnut tresses clapped her hands in delight. “That sounds just like you! Classy yet sporty!”
“Aw shucks, thanks. Besides, how do you like the theme of the day?” he angled his head towards the younger brother, his gaze focused on fiddling with the hem of his white shirt. “It’s pretty wicked, huh?”
Kaoru aimed an awkward grin in return, running a hand through his spiked hair. Unlike his twin, he chose a far simpler design consisting of a white dress shirt and elegantly cut black trousers flaring at where his ankles should be. Silver clip-on earrings were attached to his ears and adorning his slender neck was a long silver necklace made up of many chains. On his feet, he wore multicolored converse sneakers, comfortable yet tasteful on the go.
The younger sibling cuddled closer to the eldest, smiling softly at their customers. “To tell you the truth, Hikaru, I’m kinda jealous. Sure the nightclub trend is cool but,” he bit his lip, looking dejectedly at his brother. “What if someone catches your eye? That’ll mean I’m no longer needed.”
Hikaru’s gaze softened and he reached out to lay a hand on top of his brother’s. “Hush, my sweet. In my eyes, Kaoru, you’ll always be my number one.”
“It really doesn’t help when you act like Grade ‘A’ bona fide players,” Harry muttered under his breath, slipping a glass of iced water onto their table. The cubes of frozen water clinked against the rim of the crystal flute, just as loud as when he placed the glass down. A few girls noticed this and thanked him while most ignored his presence altogether, favoring the lovey-dovey presentation instead.
Harry scoffed, “Ugh, girls. I’ll never understand them and their weird kinks.”
“…So Tama-chan sprayed on Kenneth Cole Reaction—that’s where the melon and apple smell’s coming from—and they made me put on the Armani Code cologne!” Hunny beamed, enthusiastically swinging his legs back and forth from his perch on Mori’s knee.
Like all others, he traded his blazer in exchange for a white tee and hooded knee-length windbreaker thrown on top of a black V-neck hoodie layering the white shirt. Genuine fur decorated the outside rim of his collar and wrapped around the junior’s shoulders, providing him warmth from the frigid air cast from the air conditioner. Traveling downwards, he wore plaid-patterned shorts—the red edging barely reaching the end of his kneecaps—and on his feet, he wore black plimsoll sneakers.
“It smells amazing,” his girls assured him, fussing over the cute boy. The third-year looked just adorable in his new attire—the mere epitome of what you would label as devilishly cute. “And it fits you… but why does it smell like baby powder and vanilla?”
Hunny sniffed and asked guardedly, “You don’t like it?”
“No, no! Baby powder is in! It’s definitely good on you!”
“Thank you,” he said happily. Clapping his hands, he chirped, “Oh, oh! Can you guess which cologne Takeshi has on?”
A blonde hesitated, staring at the tall upperclassman with half-lidded eyes. “I’m not sure… but it smells something masculine and rich. It makes me wanna eat him up. It reminds me of a blend of lavender, spice and… tobacco?”
Mori suppressed a shudder at the breathless tone she took, her eyes glazed over with want. He managed an awkward smile, shifting his cousin’s weight on his legs. Today he sported a sleeveless, brown-bison feather-down jacket made of nylon parted down in the middle, and a white undershirt with the words “Siberian Husky” printed in block letters across his chest. He wore black track pants with white piping running down the side of his sturdy legs. “It’s Dolce and Gabbana,” he finally mumbled, albeit stiffly.
“Kya, he talked!”
“Oh my gosh, my boyfriend uses the same brand!”
“It’s not half bad. Granted, Riddle’s smells like sex on legs and Harry’s a whiff of fresh air, but I’d like to know the price of yours, upperclassman Mori.”
Tamaki chose at this time to intervene, his clients watching him from the sidelines in adoration. He bounded from his seat, and smiled charmingly at the clients of the two juniors. Purple tints of the arranged lighting swathed him, casting a glow upon his figure. Leaning against the occupied divan, he murmured, “My dear princesses, I assure you the cost is meager as compared to your beauty. You can’t put a price on such exquisiteness, but you can on trivial matters. If you must know, we got these as a token of thanks, courtesy of Miss Hermione Granger. However, I had Riddle dig up the rates and he estimated the value to be worth seventy-six euros via Internet.”
The girl looked appalled. “Seventy-six? But that’s far too cheap for men’s perfume!”
Harry gawked at the occupants across the room, his jaw hanging open in disbelief. He couldn’t help but overhear their conversation despite being a few feet away. Seventy-six euros, he thought incredulously. That’s freaking expensive… not to mention when added up, it would total… dang, almost seven-hundred forty-eight US dollars! YOU CALL THAT CHEAP, YOU FRIGGIN’ RICH PEOPLE?!
“Like I said, you can’t put a price on beauty,” he spoke haughtily, randomly striking a pose while his hands running through his golden tresses. “But I heard even commoners can’t afford within that price range,” he said, his voice lowering as if parting classified information.
Many heads swiveled to stare at the one and only commoner for verification. Even the other hosts paused in their conversation, curious at how the scholarship student would respond. Harry just chuckled nervously, sweating under their gaze.
“Um, I… wouldn’t know? It varies with each person.”
Tamaki looked slightly put-out by his answer while everyone else nodded before returning to their activities. Hunny opened his mouth to further question Harry, but Tamaki slapped a hand over the junior’s mouth. The blonde whispered harshly, “Hush, upperclassman Hunny! If Harry says it varies, then it varies! Don’t argue with him! It’s a common folks’ thing, okay?”
…Like explaining color to a blind person. Somehow, I feel like I’m getting dumber each second I'm stuck here.
‘Someone once said ‘Misfortune always befalls you when you least expect it….’’
“Oi, Harry,” Hikaru suddenly called, weaving his fingers through his brother’s. “How many girls have you scored so far?”
It was near closing time, and most of the girls were already starting to head off to their next classes. Of course, being the Host Club, all seven members attended their classes at an earlier time and so, did not have to be present for the periods after Leisure Period. In normality, Ouran students had seven mandatory courses to take—each being split evenly to fit in Homeroom, Snack, and Lunch. Leisure Period in Ouran could be counted as those three breaks, or as an elective class.
When the Host Club was still in its development phase, the King devised a plan and struck a bargain with the Headmaster. All the hosts would attend their classes two hours prior the bell schedule and thereby skipping Homeroom (or what is known as “Period 0” to some students) in favor of attending their classes with no breaks at all. Callous, true, but this way, they would have four periods to themselves, free to do whatever they want under the guise of club activities.
Of course, this meant getting up at four in the morning everyday and staying hours after for the students who had “Afterschool Activities” or chose to stay after school to visit the Host Club in substitution of school hours. To put it simply, it was a hassle for Harry to convert to this outrageous schedule that barely left enough time to finish his assignments and study for tests.
That was why each host alternated, so one lucky student got to go behind the scenes and finish half of his assignments for the allotted hour while the remaining hosts served the ladies (and a few men). This way, each host would have less homework to finish at home and more time to study for upcoming exams.
All the hosts were gathered around the Hitachin table, each drawing up a chair to sit on. The roundtable—manufactured from solid oak and black trimming embellishing the rounded edges—was immense, wide enough for the seven men and a throng of girls to gather round without invading anyone’s personal space. No one bothered to turn back on the lights and because of the twins’ whining, the radio was left alone. Chelsea Dagger by the Fratellis was now being played, but no one paid attention to the lyrics being sung by the singer’s coarse lilt.
Kaoru cast a disapproving frown at his brother. “Hikaru, don’t say it like that!”
“What, it’s true!”
“You do know there are girls here, right?” Harry deadpanned, pointing to some of the upset girls that chose to remain in the room. “Sorry ladies. What I think that idiot meant was how many clients I have so far. Now, to answer your question, I think it’s somewhere in the twenties if you exclude a certain some.”
The King tsked, drumming his fingers on the table countertop. “You still have ways to go, even if you got your debt reduced by a third, Harry.”
“Now, whose bright idea was this in the first place? You do know there are only like… what, about five-thousand, six-hundred thirty-eight students with barley over half being female?”
“Yeah, so getting four hundred girls should be a cinch!”
“You friggin’ crazy, man? You’d have to be graced by God and a total bona fide player to be able to score that much!”
The blonde snorted, waving his hand through the air frivolously. “Easy, I could do that in my sleep!”
“…So you aren’t serious about Haruhi, huh?”
Tamaki gave a jolt, leaping back from his seat and spluttered piteously. “W-what? No, I… Haruhi!” he wailed, clutching at his hair. He sniffed dramatically, grabbing the cynical freshman’s shoulders. “Son, forgive Daddy! Daddy has cheated on your Mother!”
“Dude, if you cheated on her… then why are you telling me this?”
Snickers erupted as the king gave a distraught gasp, almost instantaneously reverting back to his habit of corner hopping. This time, the king grabbed a cardboard cutout of dark, roiling clouds and he taped it to the wall adjacent to his corner, adding to his picture of melancholy. The girls clucked their tongues, apathetic at the scene. Really, his dramatics were becoming a daily occurrence—an annoyance, really.
“Err, I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, it’s good to get it off your chest-oh, why the hell are you giving me ‘the look’ now? …Seriously, quit it. Hey, at least I’m not the one who admitted to two-timing.”
The blonde gave a crestfallen stare before he turned his head away, muttering to himself.
Hikaru grinned after a moment of laughing his arse off, and wiped a tear from the corner of his amber eyes. He turned to Harry, patting his fellow freshman on the back good-naturedly. Wiggling the two of his eyebrows suggestively, he asked, “By the way, what happened to your lover boy?”
“My… what?” Harry said, flabbergasted. What the heck are you off spouting now?
“I think our wittle student council pres has a crush on you,” he replied in a sickly sweet sing-song voice.
Kaoru quipped, “The same could be said of Riddle. Why Harry, I never knew you were such a player!”
Harry sent a disgusted look at the two, shaking his head. “Guys, you know very well I don’t swing that way. Plus, what happened between Kyouya and I was an accident. I repeat, an accident! And yeah, Tom hits on me but he’s just teasing.”
Tom shot him an incredulous look that went unheeded by the freshman.
“…You’re an idiot,” the twins said bluntly.
“Geez, what’s with the sudden inquiry? It’s not like we’re not gay… unlike you two.”
Tamaki took it upon himself to swoop in, slinging an arm around the freshman’s shoulders. Harry found himself staring at the offending limb, perturbed at how quickly the Hose Club president sprung back. “The first step is always denial. Don’t worry, Harry. Everyone here is open to all sorts of scandalous relationships usually frowned upon in today’s society. Why, just take a look at these two!” He motioned to the two redheads gazing imperturbably back at him. “It’s both homosexual and incest!”
“…Are you mental?”
Again went the king and his corner. Harry heaved an aggravated sigh, ramming his hands into the pockets of his tight leather trousers. “Okay, now that was a bit harsh. I didn’t mean it that way, King.”
Tamaki paused in his sniveling, gradually turning his head back to face the sudden self-conscious teen. “What… did… you… just… call… me?”
Harry grimaced, slipping a hand under his high-raised collar and rubbing the back of his neck. “Err, King? Wasn’t that what you told me to call you by? If it disturbs you, I’ll stop-”
“KIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNG,” Tamaki all but sang gleefully, thrilled at being called such a title. He waltzed around the music room gaily, singing the word like a broken-record. “King, Kiiing, Kiinnnng, Kiiinnnnng.”
Harry arched a high brow, his lips quirked in a suspended laugh. “And I see you’re happy by my calling you ‘King’.”
“KIIIIINNNNG!”
Tom groaned, “Potter, we’re not going to hear the end of this anytime soon.”
“Hey, whatever makes him happy. You gotta admit… it’s kind of funny seeing him act this way.”
“That, I do.”
Hunny tapped his chin thoughtfully, snuggling back against Mori. “Are we gonna videotape this and post it on our site?”
Their heads perking, the two redheads shared growing grins in return. Exchanging twin mischievous gazes, the two abruptly stood up. Begin Operation Playtime! Hikaru beamed, “Hey, Kaoru?”
“I’ll go get the camcorder.”
“As you can see, our school has gone through recent renovation. Each and every one of the designers put in an effort to give Ouran a unique appeal not found anywhere else but here.” Kyouya said, gesturing at the structured pillars decorating the halls.
“Everything’s so… pink,” Myrtle said slowly, glancing at the all-around interior of the north corridor. “I mean, this even gives Lobelia taste as compared to this.”
“Not a fan of the particular shade, I see,” he noted, smiling slightly. “And might I inquire why you harbor such… displeasure?”
Myrtle huffed, “It’s just… ugh, pink. Back at the young mistress’s school, there wasn’t a pink in sight! Besides, you’ll never catch me in pink! Did you know what people used to call me behind my back when I first wore that color? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!”
“I see,” he said unsympathetically, glancing at the silent blonde at her side. “Forgive me for intruding, but why is it that I found two Lobelia students roaming our school grounds? From what I gather, St. Lobelia is far from Ouran High—at least, an hour drive. Shouldn’t you be attending your sixth period?”
“We’re new so we don’t have classes yet. Oh, and Rin offered to show us around before she dropped us off, but she had to go back and settle down the crowd. If she didn’t, we would have to face a mob of angry lesbians ready to lynch us when we came back. By the way, what’s up with these yellow armbands?”
“A school regulation, I’m afraid. All visitors who aren’t our students have to wear the armbands around campus.”
“Pft,” Myrtle simply said, tugging on a limp ponytail. “Well, at least it ain’t pink. Hey, in the courtyard, who was the carrot-top hanging off your arm? She your girlfriend?”
Aghast, he gave an indignant squeak at her presumptuous theory as he came to a grinding halt, causing the two to bump into his back. “I assure you, she… is… NOT… my… girlfriend. Our relationship is strictly business!”
“Right… and I’m secretly voice-dubbing Hikari Hanazono from Special A—which I’m not! If she’s not your girlfriend, then who is? Come on, you’re like a real-life megane bishonen! If you grew out your hair, I bet you would look like a total Shoei Jinnai!”
The Student President raised an eyebrow. “Desire Climax?”
“Oh… heh. Yeah, smut. Wait, why do you even know it’s from…. Don’t tell me, you secretly read smutty manga in your free time! Eh, why you perverted sonofa-”
“-I only happened to come upon the manga since Renge was reading it instead of doing her duties as our historian. It was only fair that I take possession of said distraction before it further hindered her from doing her job.”
“Sure, sure,” she said skeptically yet proud that she unearthed a dirty secret from the bishonen in front of her. “If it makes you happy to think so, then by all means say it was in just confiscation.”
“I believe you earlier expressed your wish to see the Host Club?” he hastily changed the topic, ignoring Myrtle’s smirk at the dodge.
“Well, our student guide said we should scope out the place before committing ourselves to four years of not being able to see the opposite sex. She also said they were six handsome students who could charm the ice off a glacier.”
“Seven,” he corrected. “They had a newest addition to the team.”
“Cool. Now, going back to our earlier topic, why don’t you have a girlfriend? You’re hot, look physically fit, not at all anti-social, interesting, and you definitely have the smarts. In short, you’re perfect! You can’t be telling me you’re single!”
He ducked his head, smiling nervously. Well, at least we’re not talking about the questionable confiscation now. “Why, yes. That’s what I’m situating. As you know, the life of a high school student is rather hectic and therefore, I cannot waste anytime on such frivolous matters. My significant other should be someone I can trust with my life, but I can only commence the search when my education is out of the way.”
“In short, you’re a romantic,” Myrtle concluded, sidling up to Kyouya’s side. “Aww, that’s so sweet. I like that in a man.”
“…I’m glad you find me so,” he said reservedly, making a point to ignore at her sudden clinginess—never mind that it was the same arm Renge had clung to. “Like I mentioned before, dating is out of the option until I can find a better time for such activities. I wouldn’t want to receive less than a satisfactory relationship and in the end, learning the years of courting had been all for naught.”
“You seem to ‘ave a fixed mind on who you would want to marry,” Fleur piped up, the first conversation she had in awhile upon arrival at the Ouran gates. “Surely, you must ‘ave a candidate in mind?”
He gave a start at the French lilt that came with her unexpected pique. It took him awhile for his mind to comprehend the thickly-accented Japanese. “No… not particularly. Of all the females I’ve encountered so far, I find most of high maintenance and an effort to make light conversation with on a more personal level.”
“So you have dated,” Myrtle pressed, poking a finger at his chest. My, now wasn’t the girl bold?
“No, I’d simply stated I haven’t met my ideal candidate. I had not once been on a date ever since my father arranged an engagement between me and the daughter of an associate.”
“So who’s your dream girl?”
“Let’s save that topic for another time, shall we?” he said, coming close to gritting his teeth. Since when did their conversation turn to him? “We’ve reached our desired destination.”
“Ooh, goodie. Although I bet they wouldn’t look half as good as you-”
He calmly interjected, “You might be surprised.” Though it killed his pride to admit so, he was all but willing to admit to his insufficiencies if it meant getting the girl off his back and out of his love life. Honestly, Renge was bad enough but two otakus? Placing a hand on the gilded door handle, he was about to give a pull when something gave a shout, causing him to wrench his hand away from the knob.
What the-?
“…iiinnnnng.”
Shit. “Ladies, right now is probably not a good time for a visit.”
“What?” Myrtle squawked. “You mean we walked an hour walk for nothing?”
“I’m afraid so,” he replied, glancing back worriedly at the door of the music room. He started ushering the two visitors away from the twin doors. “Perhaps I can direct you to our other club activities? I’m sure they’re just as interesting as-”
“-Heck no. I’m not leaving without getting a glimpse at the so called Host Club.” Myrtle scowled, yanking her hand away from the sophomore. “You’re being irrational. What’s the harm of getting a little peek? It’s like they’re-”
“-KIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNG,” cried a baritone voice, cutting Myrtle off from her speech. The three standing outside jumped at the deafening volume, two in fright and one in alarm.
Twin voices cackled, “That’s it, milord. You’re the king!”
A distinctively younger-sounding boy admonished, “Tama-chan, you’re being too loud!”
“No, leave him be. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him.” A tired voice sighed, and Kyouya could just picture his brother pinching at his temples.
“Yeah, you heard the man,” a rich, yet appealingly youthful voice chuckled, and Kyouya’s cheeks instantly inflamed upon remembrance of certain events. “Besides, it’s not like we’re going to get any visitors. It’s sixth period, not Leisure Period!”
Karma, Harry, Kyouya silently groused, mentally wishing for someone to put him out of his misery. Karma.
“What… is zat?” Fleur inquired, staring blankly at the door. “Do not ‘ell me zat-”
“Like I said, you’ve caught them at a bad time,” he grimaced, also massaging his temples. “Their decorum is usually more thought-out and well-mannered… not the raucous bunch you’re hearing now.”
“King?”
“That, I do not know.”
Myrtle cast a skeptical eye at the source of all the madness. “You know, they don’t sound half bad. They sound handsome, even!”
The young heiress shot her maid a dubious glance.
“Call it a woman’s intuition!”
Kyouya began warily, “Are you sure you do not wish to view other… clubs?”
“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like they’re having an orgy or whatever, right?”
Oh dear god, I hope not.
“Hey, do you hear that?”
“Hear what, Tom,” Harry asked, cocking his head. “I don’t hear anything. Are you sure you’re not just imagining things?”
“Despite the song and the king’s bloody awful singing, my hearing’s just fine. I think we have surprise clients.”
“In sixth period?”
Tom rolled his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Not completely unheard of. There are some students who have Electives at this time, or chose to skip class.”
“Oh geez, you guys never catch a break, do you?”
“Welcome to the life of a host.”
“Well frankly, it sucks like no tomorrow. Can I resign?”
Hunny pouted, swiping Harry’s head with his stuffed bunny. The freshman yelped, rubbing at his injured head. “No, Hatter can’t quit! You made a commitment to the team, and you still have a debt to pay off.”
The blonde continued singing, twirling and waving his arms in a complex set of ballerina moves. “KIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNG!”
“Okay, so how are we going to snap him out of his ‘King’ funk?” Harry questioned, glancing apprehensively at the doors. “It’s not like it’s going to stop anytime soon.” That and it’s getting annoying listening to him scream ‘King’ after a few minutes. It’s more exasperating than when he went all dramatic emo on us.
“Just leave him be. Everyone, get into position. We have guests!”
Kaoru waved a finger through the air as a signal to hold up. “Wait, wait. We’re not done yet.”
“He’s getting to the best part,” said Hikaru. "He's just about to beat his record."
“Are you sure I cannot show you ladies around our other social establishments? I’m sure you’d be equally as interested as-”
“-You tried that approach a long time ago. Now, scat! You’re blocking the door.”
“It’s true. I’m just as curious as to what ze self-proclaimed ‘ost Club is like.”
Kyouya growled low in his throat, standing in front of the closed doors with a dogged glower. He argued, “There’s nothing to be seen here. If you want to look at the hosts, come at a later date when they’re not being social retards.”
“It sounds like they’re having fun,” Myrtle insisted, shoving Kyouya away successfully. With Fleur hovering over her shoulder, she grabbed hold of the doorknob, disregarding his further protests. Practically bouncing on her feet, she flung open the door and abruptly met the seven deer-caught-in-the-headlights gazes blinking at her impromptu arrival.
Uncomfortable silence blanketed the immobile students and in an upside-down world, crickets could be heard chirping. However, being the Host Club, silence was not a golden rule. Chelsea Dagger by the Fratellis was still being blasted through the microscopic speakers, and the lights were dimmed—the pink and blue spotlights the only illumination in the room.
The three visitors stood smack-dab still at the threshold of oblivion, feeling as if they had stepped into an alternate dimension. Not to mention the fact the room gave off creepy, notorious nightclub vibes with the dimmed lighting and all. And it also didn’t help that the seven hosts were all wearing ensemble that faintly reminded the three of rebellious punks.
It was just that awkward.
Especially with something that smelled like sex on toast.
“…OH MY GODESSS! IT’S AN UPSCALE, UNDERGROUND PROSTITUTION RING!” Myrtle screeched, unable to bear with the not-so-silence anymore. Her pitch rising to new heights, she jabbed a finger at their direction before dropping promptly in a dead faint.
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Trivial Affections
End Chapter 7
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A/N- Note, I suck at French. If you happen to spot any mistakes, do point it out. Also, sorry for the thick accents but it is kinda necessary. This system should help you out. All the “h” plosives are gone, and any word starting with a “t” should be replaced with a “z”.
I did not know what a “megane” was until I looked it up. It pretty much means a glasses-wearing hottie. –stares- And Kyouya does look like a potential Shoei Jinnai! I swear, he totally does!
I had toyed with the idea of who should replace Renge in the story. At first, I thought of Bellatrix, making the other hosts masquerade as lesser beings compared to her beloved lord. But then, I found out that got old too quickly. –sighs- At least this way, I get to kill two birds with one stone. …You know, the lilies and the otaku scene. Myrtle makes a good otaku, hmm?
Now, allow me to explain the brief mention of Renge. Considering this is AU and Haruhi is in her second year, I’d assumed Renge would’ve met Haruhi in her first year and regarded the latter as competition. And since Renge is a hardcore otaku, she would’ve flown to Ouran anyways to meet her prince even if Haruhi wasn’t a host. I think her role is somewhat set, something that will never change even with the law of events bent out of proportions because of Harry’s appearance.
Review? –grins-
KURIBUN FOR THE 100TH REVIEWER!!!
Chelsea Dagger © the Fratellis