a/n- Hello! Let me know what you think of this story in the favorites/reviews. If it gets good feedback, I'll happily continue.

Yes, this is another story with my OC, Genoveva. I'm trying a new love story with them. Things will be different about her character, how they meet...mostly because I'm a little older and write a little differently.

Chapter 1

Kyouya Ootori was meant to die alone. Powerful, but alone. It was a fact that'd been drilled into him ever since he was a young boy. As the third son, he was nothing. He would earn nothing. No one would give him anything. Insignificance in its purest form. His own father had made it clear every day of his life that in order to be anything more, he had to be anything but.

It was like telling a barreling train that it couldn't move another inch. Kyouya was a tempered force to be reckoned with, and reluctant to accept his fate. Even into his adolescent years, he worked to make a name for himself outside of the voodoo 'third son' realm. He was Kyouya: cool, intelligent and above all, wise beyond his years. Those who knew him, felt a strange mix of fear and respect for him. He knew they did: he could see it in their eyes. And deep down inside, that made him happy, for it meant he'd become a little more than the nothing he was destined to be.

Everyone feared him. Everyone, that is, except for Tamaki. He still danced around the man like he was a plaything, still called him 'mommy' on a day-in, day-out basis. And right now, he was desperately trying to gain the bespectacled man's attentions. "Kyoooouuyyyaaa…" he whined, dragging out the man's name as he perched on the edge of the loveseat. "Come sit with us!"

Kyouya looked up from his ministrations in his notebook to see three pairs of eyes locked on him. So the twins had joined in on the game, then? Figures. They were attracted to the most interesting thing in the room like moths to a light. His glasses caught the light as he met their gaze. "Don't you three have work to do?" he frowned.

"But mo-"

"Tamaki," Kyouya interrupted, his face darkening. "I'm sure your guests wish to be tended to." Tamaki yelped, and in a flash, all three had turned to face their guests again. When the din of the room raised to it's prior levels, Kyouya took a deep breath and stared into his notebook. All there stood was a singular quote, one he'd been painstakingly tracing over and over again for the past hour.

Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.

His jaw tensed, and he snapped the notebook shut. That's what he got for watching that documentary on Stephen King last night. For a horror writer, he really knew how to single out a man's fears. Not that Kyouya had any. Fears were for lesser men. Fears were for men without ambition. Fears-

"Kyouya-senpai?" A soft voice interrupted his thoughts, and he stiffened. Haruhi was standing next to his table, holding a small tray of empty tea cups and giving him a wide-eyed look.

He peeled the glasses from his face and dug his knuckles into his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "What is it, Haruhi?" he muttered, not hiding the irritation he felt at being interrupted yet again.

"You told me to let you know whenever we start running low on tea," she started, setting the tray down on the edge of Kyouya's table.

His focus was still on the knuckles providing sweet relief for his growing headache. "...And?"

"We're running low on tea," she said dumbly, and he pulled his hand away from his face. Their eyes met, and he could see another question hovering in them. Still-would she ask it? Would she have the courage? "Are you feeling alright, Kyouya-senpai?"

"I'm fine, Haruhi," he shrugged it off. Sure, he'd had no more than four hours of sleep a night and the budget had remained untouched for the past day, but when was that news? Certainly not now. No, his shortcomings would be just that-his. He picked up his glasses and set them back on his nose. "Thank you for letting me know about the tea. I'll be sure to get some more shipped in soon."

She was slow to respond, still staring at him with those brown eyes. When she finally started, he noticed just how much she resembled an owl. Great big eyes that blinked slowly into focus. "It's not a problem, Kyouya-senpai." And with that she picked up the tray and walked away, re-joining the activities on the other side of the Third Music Room. Kyouya looked after her for a moment, before returning his attentions to his closed notebook. He was about to resume writing-or rather, etching- when his laptop dinged. He glanced at his watch-right on time. The emails never failed. He reached over and pulled the laptop close, flipping the screen up to read his latest email from DateChat.

It was his latest self-improvement venture, and one that he had ambiguous feelings towards. When it came to budgeting and management, he'd found nothing but success with the more effort he threw into it. But with DateChat….there'd been a long period of silence. No responses to his carefully-orchestrated minimalist profile, no upvotes or downvotes. It'd driven him positively mad, but he kept at it. He'd purposely selected DateChat, after all. It was one of the only dating services that offered no option for social class or last names. There, he was nothing more than an email and a small biography about what he felt pertinent to the matter at hand. In this case, his 'hobbies' and 'aspirations'.

And he found when he shrank down his biography to nothing more than a few sentences, there was a substantial increase in results. Women looking for hookups, one-night stands and what Kyouya was sure were a few prostitutes were keen on getting in touch with him in a heartbeat. It was success-although not exactly the kind he'd been looking for. So, after altering his preferences (or rather, actually bothering to specify them at all), DateChat was starting to become a helpful tool in his efforts to socialize outside of the Host Club.

Not that they knew. No, no. They'd never know so long as he lived and breathed. Tamaki would over-romanticize it, the twins would be hysterical from laughter, and the other three would silently judge but outwardly congratulate. He didn't need congratulations. He needed some sanity, and DateChat was his best and most logical option. So the Host Club would remain blissfully ignorant, and Kyouya had the chance to fill the one hole in his life's resume. With a resigned click, he opened the envelope blinking at the bottom of his screen. He'd set it so it would notify him when a new message arrived in his chat, and there was only one he'd been following.

Without a moment's hesitation, he clicked on the link. She'd replied-finally. They'd gone through all the droll topics - what were her hobbies, what did she like to eat, and such. Not to say they weren't fascinating answers, but still. For Kyouya, it was just part of the weeding out process. He'd been hooked by so many...less-than-reputable women that he'd had time to devise a long list of questions and appropriate answers before he really got into a new contact. This woman was the first one to pass every last one with flying colors. She was interesting and confident. Honest and self-reliant. Above all, she didn't use those ridiculous emoticons that DateChat offered. So far, so good.

But then the page loaded, and there stood the answer to his latest question in small, electric blue text. He could almost imagine her saying it aloud, despite not knowing her face or voice.

"I'm a study abroad student at Ouran Academy. You know it?" Her face, empty of features, tipped down to the pale yellow dress every guest wore. And it was all, very suddenly, real. And for a moment, Kyouya forgot how to breathe. It wasn't until Tamaki had rushed over and began to pound on his back that he regained his faculties and sent the man away with a harsh glare. ASugarSoSweet, the only woman to pass so many of his ridiculous tests, was a student at Ouran Academy. A student...here. Maybe she'd even been a guest. Had he hosted her? His mind twisted and bent to try to put her answers to a face, but came up empty. It didn't matter that in this very moment, they were within a mile of each other. Kyouya hadn't the slightest clue who she was.

Not that it would stay that way for long. Kyouya knew better than to delay his answers. She only ever responded in a very specific window of time, and he was treading on the edges of it. His fingers flew across the keyboard, lips silently mouthing the words. "I'm a student at Ouran as well. We should set something up. I'd really like to meet you in person."