A/N – When Grammarly is desperate for you to buy premium. 100 advanced issues, my ass. This is perfectly fine, lmao. Just let me proud of my work. Fuck you, Grammarly. I've also been binge-watching the anime, live, and movie versions like a madman and I have so many new ideas for this fic. I can't wait to write them for you! I've been reading the manga too!
Chapter 2 - Carrying a Sketchbook Everywhere Can Only Lead to Disaster
I wished that I could've been able to pass unnoticed or, preferably, completely invisible to everyone around. Even slinking close to the walls of the hallways did me no justice – it didn't eradicate my presence as I'd hoped it would.
All eyes were, unfortunately, glued on me. I suppose it was inevitable considering how the black of my faded, ripped overalls stood out like a sore thumb against the vibrant pink of the building walls. Not to mention the blue and yellow uniforms donned by the wealthy students around me.
Even my old public high school uniform would've worked out better than this but I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed to wear it, especially since I had been transferred (against my will) to Ouran Academy.
As I walked, I held my school supplies close to my chest and each time a student dared to walk close to me, earning gasps I strengthened my hold on them – my precious sketchbook and pencils. I liked to think they were worth the number of meals I had to cut down on, but most of the time I just wanted to rip out the pages and burn them until they became something less than ashes.
"I should've known not to wear this today," I muttered to myself, staring uncomfortably down at my feet as not-so-quiet whispers from all around reached my ears. I could feel my hands grip my map of the school tighter and I had to constantly think to myself, just a few more steps.
Reaching my classroom couldn't have brought more of a relief but, when I hurriedly slammed the door shut and leant my back against it, breathing heavily, I soon noticed the small crowd of students surrounding one desk who had all turned to stare at me.
"S-sorry," I squeaked, quickly sprinting to the back of the classroom and sitting myself down at the first empty table I could find, praying that I wouldn't be sitting next to anyone. The disappointment came soon, however, when a school satchel was dumped unceremoniously onto the table space beside me and the other chair was dragged out along the floor.
Refusing to look at them, I stayed where I was, nervously opening my sketchbook with shaking hands and almost furiously tapping my pencil on the page over and over, watching as the small marks appeared and began to grow bigger until there was a large group of dots.
I started connecting them together, with no obvious start point, end, or any proper direction to draw; the freedom of it made me feel content and a little happy. The little lines soon turned into random scribbles, like the pencil was whisking my hand in whatever direction it deemed okay.
"I don't know about you but something like that doesn't look like the work of an art scholar," stated a smooth, highly familiar voice from beside me, making me jolt with a start and drop my pencil.
"Well, maybe you just don't have an eye for art, Ootori-San." I clapped a hand over my mouth. How could I respond in such a way to someone – let alone to my future husband?! Even if I didn't necessarily want to marry such a pompous ass, it wasn't like I could afford to get on his bad side.
You're such an idiot, Isabella! I could practically hear my family mocking me and I moved my hands to cover my ears, even though they were haunting my mind. No wonder why Kyoya's been forced to marry you. What cliché voices...
A deep chuckling from beside me dragged me away from my thoughts and I slowly lowered my hands, turning to Kyoya with a surprised blush on my cheeks, my eyes wide and my mouth opened slightly in shock. He was... laughing? Although, it wasn't a particularly nice laugh, more like a forced chuckle.
Kyoya reached into his satchel and whipped out his notebook, jotting down stuff I couldn't see. He looked at me with that creepy look on his face – the one with an unnaturally wide grin and close eyes. "You don't seem to know me very well, do you? I know art when I see it, of course. We're in art class right now."
I could have facepalmed; how humiliating. It was so stupid of me to say it and I should've just kept my mouth shut.
"Right, I knew that," I retorted quietly, allowing a small, genuine smile to show for the first time that day. Kyoya, despite torturing me with embarrassment and nervousness to no end, always knew how to take it like a joke... I think. I guess I could appreciate that side of him.
Kyoya always confused me. I could never tell what he was thinking – his poker face game was just too strong for me to handle. Those cold, dark eyes never showed any colour or remorse, just like a plain black frame but, this I wasn't so sure of, I usually tried to console myself with the beautifully vibrant painting that must be lying underneath the cool glass.
"Just so we're clear, Ayakushi-San, I'm not particularly fond of you." His bluntness slapped me harsh across the face and I could've flown back and smashed through the wall had I been in an anime or manga – even the use of my last name snapped something within me.
My hand closed into a tight fist beneath the desk and I could feel the sharp sting of my short nails digging into the skin of my palm; it made me feel grateful that they weren't long enough to penetrate the skin, but that didn't make me feel less anger towards Kyoya. But I didn't have the strength to try and insult him again.
"It's not like I want to marry you," I answered awkwardly, wishing I had the same hardness within me as before when I had so crudely called him out, even if it made no difference and still turned back on me.
"Well, good. At least we're on the same page here."
When Kyoya turned to face the front, I did the same, my heartbeat elevating suddenly the moment I saw the thirty-odd people roaming about the class. I lightly clenched my fists over and over, feeling sweat beginning to form on my forehead and palms. Great.
"You're going to have to deal with people being around, Ayakushi-san. You won't be able to do anything if you just sit there like you've seen a ghost."
I glared at him in disbelief. He really was turning into his father – someone who only cared about money, making themselves look good, and having a perfect trophy wife... which was something I could never be.
I ended up trying to distract myself until the bell rang, counting the desks, windows, and anything else I could see. There were about eighteen girls, not including me, and twelve boys, all of them clustered about the unnecessarily large room in little groups of three or four. That's a lot of people.
When the teacher strolled in the class, she had this glassy look in her eyes and I could almost see the hearts floating around her head. I was curious until I saw an easily recognisable blond following her, his "I just flirted with someone" smile lighting up his entire face. I should've known Tamaki would dare to flirt with teachers as well as students.
I shrunk down in my seat, ignoring the discomfort until only the top of my head down to my eyes was visible. Of course, the first thing he noticed was me attempting to hide at the back of the room and he wasted no time in calling out my name, practically shoving past all the girls fawning over him to get to my table. Why couldn't I just stay home today?
"Hey, Isabella, you transferred here? I'm so happy you could join us here, Princess!"
I tugged at the strap of my overalls out of habit, begging God to whisk me away from here. If I wanted to talk to Tamaki, I would've spoken up or, at the very least, acknowledged him in some way. I don't understand how he couldn't get that through his head.
"Hang on, what's that you're wearing? A lovely princess like you shouldn't be wearing such dark colours!" I rolled my eyes – his "princess" thing was really starting to annoy me. My irritation itched at me and I wanted to speak up to interrupt the bumbling fool, but there was this horrid lump in my throat preventing me from reaching my voice.
By now, I could see many people in the class staring, most them being drooling girls (thank God, their focus was on Tamaki) but there was the occasional student who, surprisingly, shot sharp scowls at me. What did I do? I haven't even been here for a whole day yet!
The teacher thankfully stopped Tamaki's rambling soon after and demanded everyone sits in their respective places, some of the girls looking as though they were about to fight tooth and nail for the seat next to the Host Club's "King."
This was going to be a very, very long day.
For the entirety of the lesson, which started off embarrassing when the teacher called out my name, insisting on a brief introduction to my classmates, I was terrified. I had been trembling so violently to the core that I had unknowingly answered her in sign language – it greatly befuddled my poor teacher and classmates, but Kyoya was certainly more than gruntled.
I could see him beside me, his head lowered and a hand pressing hard against his mouth to stifle an immature laugh, rendering me immobile. Once again, he was laughing at me. My fist clenched for the third time, itching to get a feel of his face against my knuckles, but I swallowed my anger and sat back down.
That had only been the first incident and it was still only first period.
I had been fully immersed in my sketching – the teacher, after the chaos eventually settled, instructed that we draw whatever was on our minds. So much for being high school students; I was under the impression that only children were told to draw whatever they wanted in class.
Laughter almost escaped me. These people were nothing but rich pawns for their parents' companies... especially Kyoya. I momentarily turned my attention to him and saw his usually chocolate eyes shining silver like the metal plates of a robot – the familiar sight made me want to feel sorry for him. The intentionality of his coldness escaped me and left me asking unanswered questions. Sure, Kyoya was seemingly cold-hearted, but my own selfishness always brought me to the same thought. There must be something behind those walls his father built.
"Time's up," stated the teacher and I jumped, having become used to the golden silence, and I noticed Kyoya's eyes narrow slightly as he hesitantly set down his pencil. "Ootori-san, please, show us your work."
Kyoya looked beyond mad at the involuntary selection, but he simply smiled a false smile and held up his unfinished masterpiece of a lavender chrysanthemum bouquet laying alone and cold in a beautiful winter garden. If it weren't for the lack of colour and obvious pencil marks, I would have mistaken it for a photograph.
My eyes widened – not at the beauty of his art, but the message it seemed to tell. Is this how Kyoya feels? Like lonely, wrapped up flowers trapped in a vast world of white? I felt like I was on the verge of crying – it truly was magnificent – but then something else caught my attention. All around us, I could hear girl swoon while each cried out something along the lines of "Kyoya's emotions are so cool!" and it made me reconsider my own opinion, a vein popping in my neck as I did. That stupid Host Club and their stupid charms.
With a smirk clearly directed at me, Kyoya sat back down, and the teacher called upon me for the second time today to also show my own work. I gulped. When she impatiently demanded yet again, I reluctantly stood from my seat, wincing at the short screech of the wooden chair legs on the floor, and picked up my sketchbook.
The reaction was not what I expected. The moment my drawing was in full view of everyone, simultaneous gasps of surprise and fear chorused from my classmates. Was it really that bad? With my heart hammering violently in my chest, I slowly peered over the top of the sketchbook, eyeing my own work upside down.
My jaw dropped.
Scratched almost brutally onto the page was what appeared to be a tortured, weak-in-the-knees young girl that lacked a smile and any sense of happiness. She was being held up on her toes by an identical girl, although she had a sinister wind whipping at her hair and long claws protruding from her hands, one wrapped tight around the first girl's arm and the other held out to the side. Blood coated the second girl's fingers and it was then that I realised that the first girl's throat had a gaping hole in it, a gruesome amount of blood dripping down onto her ragged dress and body.
Fear rippled within me and coursed through my veins, freezing my blood and halting my breathing. The second girl had a gas-like orb floating above her hand and I knew that it was the first girl's voice.
"How... expressive," stated the teacher in a nervous voice. I watched as she pulled out a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat on her forehead and I caught the eyes of Tamaki, who was surprisingly speechless.
The so called "King" of the Host Club thankfully recognised my distress and he started laughing. "W-what a crazy joke, Isabella-san! Those pesky Hitachiin brothers must have put you up to this!"
One by one the others in the class started to relax, some of the boys even approaching to exclaim that it was "So awesome!" and I could breathe again. It was only my first day and I already managed to terrify myself and my classmates, render Tamaki speechless, and almost give my teacher a heart attack.
Wonderful.
OHSHC – OHSHC – OHSHC
When the final bell for the day rang out, echoing down the pink halls of the academy, I couldn't have been more relieved. I walked down the hall alone, which was fine with me, but word had somehow got out about my drawing – multiple people were asking to see it and they all said the same thing: "Wow, it really is amazing! You're a great artist, Ayakushi-san!" Although most people still kept their distance, the way I preferred it, at least there weren't too many people dragging me into the fire.
Social interaction... what a horrible thing.
Suddenly, I was pushed backwards by a brute force and my eyes squeezed shut as I fell to the floor, my head crashing on the gleaming tiles and sending a shooting pain through my body. I cried out, dropping my things and bringing my hands to my head.
"Sorry, Ayakushi-Senpai," said a calm, familiar voice. I opened my eyes, blinking over and over to adjust to the bright lights overhead and the nauseating dizziness that overcame me. Pressing up against my body was that cross-dressing girl – her name escaped my mind – and as she stood up she offered her hand out to me, but I quickly and harshly declined.
I was certain I had offended her and was about to bow over and over like an idiot while simultaneously attempting to work up the courage to even speak an apology, but she only smiled kindly at me, astonishing me.
"I'm sorry we never got to meet properly yesterday. I'm Haruhi Fujioka, one of the first years in class One-A." Once again, she held out her hand for me to shake, but my body refused to move an inch. For a quick moment, I swore I could see what looked to be a flash of sadness in her large, doe-like eyes, but it vanished as quickly as I thought it had appeared.
Her hand withdrew and I simply stared at it, the deliberate clearing of Haruhi's throat dragging back to attention. "Sorry," I laughed nervously, crouching down to gather the things I had dropped. Unfortunately, my sketchbook had flung open to an old, beaten up page.
"Whoa... you're really good," Haruhi said, astonished. She and I were both staring down at the page, although I assumed that while I was visibly grimacing at the large tea stain, she must have been looking at the drawing. It wasn't anything special – just the outline of a girl wearing an Alice in Wonderland themed dress.
"You know, Kyoya-Senpai's been sulking over costs spent on the Host Club designer a lot lately. Maybe you could join the Host Club and design for us!" Before I could object to her obscene offer, she gripped my arm and briskly started walking in the opposite direction of the exit, dragging me along with her.
What did I do to get in this mess?
The entire way to the third floor, Haruhi babbled on about finally having another sane girl to make up for the sausage fest. I managed to drone out her one-sided conversation until something else she said caught my attention. "I mean, you don't talk a lot for some reason, but neither does Mori-Senpai. He's just not as shy as you... I'm sure that when you get used to us, you can talk to us more – we're an odd bunch, but you can talk to us about anything!"
By now we had reached the massive double doors that would inevitably lead to a fate worse than death: working for a Host Club. I tried to gulp down my fear. The chatter from the other side was loud, seeping through the cracks like poison, and I tried to gulp down my fear.
The door swung forth I was instantly blinded by the brightest light I had ever seen and ambushed by a few dozen silky rose petals. Silence echoed as the Host Club and their customers were revealed, everyone staring in either curiosity or annoyance at us. When some saw Haruhi, their expressions brightened, their eyes sparkled almost literally, and they ran over to greet her (obviously, they thought she was a boy).
"Care to explain why you're late, Haruhi?" came a merciless, icy voice before Kyoya stepped out of the shadows, an evil glare reflecting off his glasses – it was as though he knew when we were going to arrive and where exactly to stand.
I froze at the sight of his spiteful grin, wishing with all my might that I would suddenly obtain the power to evaporate into thin air, and although it seemed impossible, I was sure it would happen when I heard Haruhi laughing at his comment.
My head turned to her slowly, like a malfunctioning robot, all colour drained from my features as she heartily said, "I'm sorry to keep you ladies waiting, but I wanted to gather some roses just for you." She suddenly whipped out a dozen roses (which nearly hit me in the face, might I add) and presented them one by one to the students around her.
"What in the world?"
"Why're you so surprised, Ayakushi-San?! The Hosts in the Ouran Academy Host Club always have roses to present to his Lady!" Tamaki, the one who had shouted, rushed over, roses appearing in his hands as well. Soon enough, every single Host had spontaneously pulled a large bouquet out of nowhere, including Kyoya. The sight was surprisingly hilarious and before I could make even a single sound, a white, thornless rose was presented to me.
My ears felt red and I absentmindedly brushed back a strand of my hair, shakily reaching up to take the pretty rose. However, before I could accept Tamaki's offer, Kyoya shoved him to the side, replacing the white rose with a beautiful lavender one, causing my blush to worsen.
"You only take roses from me, seeing as I am your fiancé," he whispered cruelly, not even daring to move from his ridiculous looking bow until I had grabbed his rose – a hasty decision I knew I would later regret. Chills travelled down my spine and I could feel a depressing wind from behind me and, as I turned, I was shocked to see Tamaki huddled over in the corner bawling like a child.
A sheepish smile made its way onto my face and I bolted to leave the room, although, in all the chaos, I had completely forgotten which of the four identical doors was the exit. I followed my gut instinct, despite it generally being incorrect, and practically kicked down the nearest door to me.
I was greeted with darkness and an eerie feeling of being watched. A mysterious vapour that had a sickeningly sweet scent to it lured me further into that pitch-black room, away from the door I had entered through. With my hands held out in front of me, I carefully shuffled forward, feeling more lost than a newly blind man.
My fingers brushed against a thick curtain and I grabbed it, throwing it to the side and revealing a candlelit ritual, a small group of hooded students seated in a circle around a large cauldron filled with a thick, bubbling liquid.
Whatever the hell I just walked in on, I didn't want to know. As they started chanting, I dropped the curtain, allowing it to fall back into place. I continued to stare blankly before I grabbed the curtain and moved it away again.
"It seems we have a visitor." The one who spoke was situated in the centre, standing before the cauldron with various beacons filled with vile-looking substances, each of them emitting a strangely coloured smoke. "Welcome, welcome to the Black Magic Club! Would you like to dry some of our deadliest potions?"
I blinked. My hand let go once more and this time I managed to back away, an unconvincing laugh escaping me as I bravely stated, "Yeah, I'm good, I think I'm just gonna leave now." I walked until I found the door (an extraordinary feat on its own) and I stepped out, briefly shielding my eyes from the light as I did. My eyes soon adjusted to the brightness and the first thing I saw was a speedy flash of blue that engulfed me in a massive hug, knocking the wind out of me and spinning me around like crazy.
"How could you just go into Nekozawa-Senpai's lair like that?!" screeched a terrified Tamaki, who honestly sounded worse than a howling cat stuck in a tree at midnight. "It was bad enough that one time when I accidentally stepped on his curse doll and ended up in another universe, but infiltrating his House of Evil like that will surely end in your death!"
While he rambled on about some crack story, I simply wriggled around in hopes of him releasing me from his unnecessary and extremely uncomfortable embrace. Why do I always get stuck with morons that love touching people?!
"Not to worry, Princess, we'll protect you from him!"
A strong pair of hands grabbed my underarms and lifted me high and away from Tamaki, but I couldn't see who it was since Tamaki's spinning made me dizzy. "Leave her, Tamaki," spoke up the voice of Takashi. I felt flustered – it was the first time I'd heard him speak and, admittedly, the deepness of his voice was attractive. I looked down at him holding me, the nauseating dizziness fading.
"Whoa! She's blushing!" The twins' shouting caused a panic. For some reason, Tamaki went on a violent rampage, Kyoya's pen snapped in half, and the girls started screaming something to do with "shipping" and "OTPs." The whole ordeal was amusing and, as Takashi placed me back down on the ground, I had to stifle my giggling.
It was then that I realised I wasn't holding my sketchbook and I began searching in a panic, rushing about the room and digging around under couch cushions, behind potted plants, and even under the tea sets (which I would later deem as regretful and embarrassing).
My fear, momentarily forgotten during all the chaos, returned, my hands shaking with barely visible specks of sweat forming on my palms. I felt sick to the stomach. How could I let my guard down around these people?
"You know, you're not half bad, Ayakushi-Senpai!" I spun around, finally noticing the twins had been flipping through my sketchbook the whole time. My knees felt weak and I collapsed in one them – this was just too much!
It only got worse when the other Hosts along with some customers starting crowding around, all trying to get a look at my designs. "We could really use some of these designs, I-sa-bel-la," spoke Kyoya with malicious intent while he simultaneously punched numbers into a calculator.
All I could do was sit there in silence.
"Hey, Boss, weren't we gonna do a Butler café theme next week?" There was a moment of silence before the girls erupted into screams, each of them acting like dogs being offered a treat and, from what I could see, a couple of them were even literally drooling at the thought of the Hosts in Butler uniforms. What, do they have a servant fetish or something?
Nearby to me, I could hear a couple girls whispering heatedly to each other. "I want to see Kyoya in a Butler uniform... but why does he have to dress so formally all the time," the first girl whined pathetically.
"I wonder what it'd be like for Kyoya-kun to have messy clothes and hair," the other added. Their fantasising hadn't been what surprised me, but the fact that there were some girls who even requested for Kyoya in the first place was a massive shock. I'd never seen Kyoya sitting with one of the customers before – I'd automatically assumed he only used his charms for the Host Club's revenue.
From across the room, past the still crazy customers, was Tamaki loudly declaring that I would be the Club's new costume designer, and he'd even purposefully parted the crowd of girls just to point at me. What an idiot, I thought to myself.
Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit me and I frantically shook my head at Tamaki until I saw Kyoya out of my peripheral vision, looking at me with a strange look on his face. Either way, I knew he was non-verbally threatening me, so I nodded sharply and smiled nervously , unwillingly accepting Tamaki's ridiculous job "offer."