🏵
I managed to convince the quartet to help.
But apparently I owed them big time.
Still not entirely sure what that meant, I agreed anyway, begging them to learn the piece Tamaki sent me before Friday. He'd emailed me a set of sheet music along with his cryptic text, and informed me that his plan required the help of the quartet. So, unfortunately, I had to play along.
I hardly had time to practice the piece, what with homework, club stuff, life stuff, and Mei's piano concert on Thursday night. Walking into Music Room 3 on Friday, I was a nervous wreck, palms sweaty as I dragged my cello case in behind me. A stage shone brightly in the center of the room, seats surrounding it in a concentric circular pattern. Just staring at the thing made me anxious, and it forced me to think about Tamaki; I didn't want to let him down.
"Michiyo."
Silent as a ghost, Mori appeared beside me, towering and intimidating. Needless to say, I jumped, clutching the front of my blazer and tie in my hand, hoping to still my spastic heart. "How is it possible for you to be so quiet when you're so goddamn tall?" I mumbled between steadying breaths.
I swore I heard him chuckle. "Wait for your opponent to be distracted," he answered, "It helps."
My cheeks warmed, suddenly embarrassed realizing that he'd heard me. "Mori, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it-"
"I know," he nodded, a faint smile on his lips. Before I could say something else, he put his whole hand over my face, and said, "Don't apologize again. I am tall."
Surprised, I tried wrenching my face from his grip, considering a good lick on his palm to get him to release me. "Don't even think about it," he added, apparently reading my mind. I grumbled and sighed, shoulders slumping in surrender.
"Good," he said once I stopped flailing. He peeled his hand away one finger at a time, peeking at my grumpy face. "You okay?"
I shrugged and gestured to the stage with a jerk of my chin. "I just wish I'd known about this earlier. I feel so unprepared," I confessed.
"Mmm," he nodded, "Tamaki is..."
"Energetic? Erratic? Unpredictable?" I supplied.
His smile widened just a little, and Mori said, "Or 'spontaneous'."
"My least favorite."
🏵
It turned out that the twins brought in a fleet of helpers to dress us for the event. A handful of them were there just to do my makeup and hair, which surprised me.
"You didn't have to go through all of this trouble," I insisted as someone tugged on my mint hair, curling it this way and that. "I could've done this myself, you know."
"But where's the fun in that?" Hikaru said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Kaoru mirrored the movement and added, "Kyoya sold tickets for this. So we had to look fancy, you know."
"Sold tickets?" The idea made me even more nervous. People actually paid to see me perform. Not that people hadn't done that before, but... somehow this was different. These were my peers. This was their money. If I fucked up, then I likely had a future full of slushies and mystery bruises and pushes down the stairs.
Hikaru bent down in front of me. "Hey now," he said, brow furrowed, "Calm down, newbie. They're not coming to see you."
That surprised the anxiety right out of me. Kaoru tilted his head and nodded, adding, "I mean, sure, Tamaki cooked this up to show you off a little, but in reality the girls are just coming to see us."
"Think of yourself like a backup dancer," Hikaru shrugged.
Kaoru grinned, laughing. "Exactly! We're the main attraction!"
I laughed with them, and the tension leached from my shoulders. Everything would be fine. They were right. I wasn't the star today. For once.
And honestly... it was kind of nice.
🏵
"Here is the setlist. There is one taped to the stage as well."
Kyoya passed out slips of paper to each of us, the eight of us standing in a circle in the back room just before the start time. We all had on matching black tailored suits with shiny oxford shoes and black ties, our socks matching our button-up shirt color; apparently each of the club members had a rose that symbolized them or something, and their shirt/sock color matched their rose. So Kyoya had on a nice lavender button-up under his black suit; Tamaki had on white; Hikaru and Kaoru had on light blue and orange, respectively; Honey wore pink; Mori wore navy (and his suit had subtle navy piping); and Haruhi sported a crimson button up.
Apparently, my rose was yellow. So I looked like some kinda motherfucking Sprite can with my yellow shirt and mint curls and yellow socks, a Mountain Dew spokesperson or some shit. I wasn't pleased, if you couldn't tell. I mean, if they'd told me my rose color earlier, gave me even a day's warning, I'd have dyed my hair before the performance, or at least bought a fancy ass wig to avoid this whole situation.
Phew. Okay. Calming down.
Anyway, I scanned the setlist, muttering curses under my breath, and stiffened. "Why's my name on here twice?" I blurted, my heart stuttering as I realized that, indeed, my name was beside Tamaki's for the classical piece at the top of the list, but my name was the last on the list too. Alone.
Kyoya stared at me, expression unfeeling and unswayed by my question. "You're helping Tamaki with his talent, are you not? Then you have to perform your talent as well, Miss Kimura," he said evenly, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging his lip. He enjoyed making me squirm, making me uncomfortable, that much was evident.
But how rude.
"I thought my performance with Tamaki was also my talent," I replied, being totally honest, "I don't have another talent ready, Kyoya senpai."
Okay, that last part was laying it on a little thick; I kinda thought that calling him senpai would wiggle me into his good graces, maybe earn me a few last-minute brownie points.
It didn't help.
He shrugged, nudging his glasses further up his nose. "Guess you'd better start working on that then, Miss Kimura. We already printed the programs." With that, he spun from the room, exiting into the music room to greet the ladies waiting for us.
I wasn't sure that I could breathe. Oxygen seemed to have stopped working. I could vaguely tell that the others were still in the back room with me, that someone had their hand on my shoulder, steadying me as my eyes glossed over with frustration tears. "What am I going to do?" I whispered, my voice coming out strangled and weak. "I- I can't do anything. I'm not- I don't-"
"Michiyo."
Mori's voice slid over me like a weighted blanket, settling my swirling, anxious thoughts. He knelt in front of me and wiped the tears from my cheeks. "Go help Tamaki first," he said smoothly, "When you're done, you have six performances to think of something. Plenty of time."
"Yeah, Chiyo-kun!" Honey piped up, leaning on Mori, "You'll think of something! You're super smart!"
Kaoru stepped forward, tilting his head to align himself with my gaze. "You could always do the thing you were doing in the kitchen the other day. If you're up for it," he said carefully, not giving away the secret.
But my brain was still sort of stuck, a bit trapped in the panic. "Bubble fight?" I asked, confused.
He laughed and shook his head, swooping in close. Kaoru's fingers brushed the curls away from my jaw, tucking them away behind my ear, his breath warm on my neck as he whispered, "You could sing."
A shiver ran up my spine, but whether it was from his proximity or his suggestion, I wasn't sure. I shot him a look like maybe he was on drugs. "It's an option. A last-ditch option, but... an option," I admitted.
The door opened again, and Kyoya ducked his head in. "Ready?"
🏵
Tamaki and I crossed the Music Room, settling into our places at the piano and on the lone chair, respectively. I noticed he sat on the leftmost side of the bench, but didn't think anything of it at first. Kyoya stepped up to the microphone as I took my ink-black cello from the case, set it up in front of me, and got comfortable.
"For our first talent, we have Tamaki Suoh on piano performing Cantabile by Paganini, accompanied by the Ouran String Quartet, supported by a special guest," Kyoya said, nodding toward a side set of doors.
I glanced up at him, confused, and followed his gesture across the Music Room. It said nothing about a special guest on the setlist we'd been given. Who...?
The twins held the double doors open as other quartet members exited from within, their instruments and bows in their off-hands, trailed by none other than Mei in a tiny suit that matched mine, yellow shirt and all. I almost started crying again at the sight of her holding her head high, smile wide as she followed the quartet to the stage in single file. Her hair had been pulled up into two dark buns, and someone had convinced her to wear some tasteful makeup.
She looked like an adult.
As the group climbed the stairs, Mei stuck her tongue out at me, and signed, "You look crazy." I smiled and hastily signed back, "You look beautiful." She blushed, replying with a quick, embarrassed, "Stop."
Everyone took their seats, and Tamaki bumped shoulders with Mei, earning him a little giggle that warmed my heart. Glad to see they'd patched things up. Tamaki counted us in under his breath, and we took off running.
🏵
Mei paced the back room with me as I tried not to panic. The classical piece had gone off without a single problem, and now the other hosts and the rest of the quartet were sitting in the audience, watching the others perform as I scrambled to think of something to do for my talent.
"Do you have any pieces memorized?" Mei said, "Like, monologues?"
I shook my head, listening at the door as the twins performed a comedy act. "I haven't been able to go to many tryouts, so I don't-"
"Yeah, okay, no acting, I got it," Mei cut me off. "What about singing?"
Frowning at her, I shook my head. "I'd rather not."
Her face dropped. "You'd rather not? Or you're being a big chicken?"
"Excuse me?" I laughed.
She propped her hands on her hips, giving me a full-force teenager sass-stare. "Can you or can you not sing today?"
"Sure, but-"
"And do you or do you not have a song memorized?"
"Yeah, loads, but-"
"Okay then! Sounds like you're singing," Mei sighed with exasperation, throwing her hands up in the air. She crossed the room, plucking up a water bottle and draining it in one long swig. "What are you singing?"
"My funeral dirge," I replied automatically, rubbing my temples.
"Can't wait."
🏵
The time came for my public humiliation.
I stepped up to the stage for the second time, and stood nervously beside Kyoya as he introduced me. "For our final performance, we have our newest Host, Michiyo Kimura," he said, forcing a smile. When he turned away, he nodded at me, his hand briefly squeezing my forearm in what I thought was a reassuring way.
Mixed signals, much?
I stepped up to the microphone, adjusted it down to my height, and pulled up a stool from when the twins performed their stand up set. Across the room, Renge gave me a thumbs-up with a raised eyebrow, asking if she should start the music, and I returned her gesture. I sighed, closing my eyes.
The guitar faded in, and I tried to fade out, losing myself in the noise. My voice picked up where it needed to, immediately remembering the words on muscle memory alone. I didn't open my eyes, for fear that seeing the audience would shake me.
Your integrity makes me seem small
You paint dreamscapes on the wall
I talk shit with my friends
It's like I'm wasting your honor
I dared to peek. My eyes immediately locked on Kyoya's, and for some reason, I wasn't nervous. The words kept coming, and his calm demeanor kept me anchored.
But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm
If your cascade ocean wave blues come
All these people think love's for show
But I would die for you in secret
For a moment, I thought I saw something change in his face. His emotions were always so well hidden, but I saw a chink in his armor, a crack in his walls, a slip of his mask. But I'd never seen his eyes like that before. I didn't know what to call that look he gave me, indecipherable in the setting sun.
The devil's in the details, but you've got a friend in me
Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?
🏵