A/N: 11/26/13 - DISCLAIMER: I was like 14 ok. Don't judge me. Go read one of my Persona stories or something.

Just when I thought my first year of high school was going great, I met the Host Club. Here, let me back up a little bit. My name is Boushi Aizawa. I'm 15 years old, and this is my first year at Ouran High School. Ouran Academy is generally a school for the rich and those of high social standing (and by high social standing, I'm not talking popular kids at your average high school. I'm talking children of movie stars, businesspeople, and I think Yakuza…), but I got in on a scholarship. If I can keep my grades up, I can get into their university division, and they're one of the best schools out there. Of course, if I had known what was waiting for me at Ouran, you couldn't have paid me to take that scholarship.

It's not that I can't handle the classes, or that the other students are treating me badly. No, the classes are fine, and the students are mostly nice enough people. Usually, I don't socialize much because all anyone ever talks about are their vacations to exotic countries and who they've been rubbing elbows with at parties and crap like that. My problems started a couple weeks into school, when I made the mistake of looking for a quiet place to study.

I had tried three libraries, only to find each chock-full of students gossiping and drinking tea and generally not helping my quiet study time. So when I came across what I thought was an abandoned music room, it never crossed my mind that opening that door would change my life, for better or for worse.

"Welcome to the Host Club!" rang out half a dozen voices as I was closing the doors.

I froze. Slowly turning around, I saw six boys gathered around a couch, each holding a rose.

"Um, I, uh…" I managed. Maybe if I left now, these obviously insane guys who stood around music rooms holding roses and calling themselves a "Host Club" would think they'd imagined me. I inched backwards, feeling for the handle, like they wouldn't notice me if I moved slowly enough.

"Oh, it's just a boy," chorused two identical red-heads, relaxing.

Pausing, I looked down at myself, momentarily distracted from my goal. A boy? I know I couldn't afford a uniform (we had to choose between buying me a school uniform or paying our mortgage this month), and maybe I was wearing one of my dad's sweaters, but did I really look like a boy? Either way, the jig was up, it was too late to pretend I was never there.

"Um, do any of you know where-" I was cut off by the tall blond one.

"Now, now, don't be rude, he's still a guest," he scolded the red-heads. He got up and started walking towards – me! Oh crap, now what? I thought frantically. I could make a break for it, but he was already standing right next to me, holding a rose in my face.

"And who are you?" He asked. Ignoring the question, and the sparkles that seemed to spontaneously generate around him, I ducked under the blond guy's arm.

"As I was saying, do you any of you know-" I started to ask again, and was interrupted again, this time by a boy with black hair.

"This is Boushi Aizawa, first year, scholarship student," he stated, adjusting his glasses.

"Hey, how do you know who I-"

"Ah, the scholarship student! I've heard about you. It's inspiring that a commoner such as yourself can survive in this unfamiliar environment. You're a role model to poor folks everywhere!" declared the sparkly blond guy, prancing around like an idiot. I decided I didn't like him very much. "Do not despair, Boushi Aizawa, for with perseverance, you may someday rise from the poverty you reside in!" Scratch that. I didn't like this guy one bit.

"Right, well, thanks for your help. I'll be on my way now." I started to leave, but I was being dragged away from the door by the blond moron. The rest of the Host Club had dispersed, looking bored. Did they not notice or just not care I was being abducted?

"Come, you must tell me all about the life of a commoner. Oh, and my name is Tamaki Suoh, but please…call me king." He grinned at me stupidly, and amped up the sparkles.

"Uh, yeah, whatever, I'm out of here." I pulled my arm out of Tamaki's grasp, turned around, and walked straight out, never to see the Host Club again. Or at least that was my intent. Instead, I walked straight into a very expensive-looking vase, knocking it off its pedestal. I reached out to grab it before it fell, but it was just out of reach, and – crash!

Now, of course, I had the Host Club's full attention. The red-headed twins sighed and shook their heads, tsk-ing in unison.

"I-I can pay for it!" I exclaimed.

"That vase was about to be auctioned off at 8 million yen," the twins informed me with matching devious expressions. "You can't even afford a uniform."

"My my, this is unfortunate," said the black-haired boy with the attitude of someone who didn't find it unfortunate at all. "Tamaki, what should we do?"

"Kyoya, are you familiar with the term, 'when in Rome, do as the Romans'? Boushi," he addressed me, "from this day forward, until you can pay off your 8 million yen debt, you are to be the Host Club's slave!" he decided, a maniacal grin on his face.

"WHAT? You're insane! All of you!" I cried, my voice reaching a pitch that made Kyoya raise an eyebrow. I got the feeling that maybe not everyone in the Host Club was as stupid as I assumed.

"You can refuse, of course," he said politely, "but my family's private police force is quite large. I assume you have a passport?"

"I…I…I…" I stuttered. There was no getting around it. I collapsed, mentally exhausted. A short blond guy came up and poked me.

"Is he dead?" he wondered, wide-eyed.

"No, no, Hunny-sempai, he's just very out of shape. That happens to the common folk," Tamaki answered. I moaned. This was going to be a long three years.

A/N: 6/4/12 - Yep, I added a cover! Haha but I'm hoping a friend of mine can make something non-suckish. If not, well, trust me...it's better for everyone if we leave it as a boring MS Paint masterpiece. I don't want to expose you to my pathetic art skils...