Hello! :) Just to preface this story, I'm going to admit that I've tried to write it before. It didn't come out the way I wanted, so I decided to take a break and rewrite it. I've added some tweaks to the storyline and my OC. The original was posted months ago and I dont think any of you would know it. In all honesty, I'm not very confident in my writing skills, but I enjoy writing nonetheless.

This is a warning that I take a long time to update. I'm not going to make any promises about how often I'll do so, but I hope that you'll keep reading anyway.

I also wanted to adress the fact that some things won't match up with actual Japanese laws and education. For example, in order to drive you need to be 18 years old, but Sierra is only 17. I figured that since Tamaki drives a car in the anime, she should be able to as well. But I'm not sure, he may have been older at that point.

And that leads me to my last topic. Some details may not be true to the manga and/or anime, and some characters may be OOC. If you notice either of the two, please tell me and I'll do my best to improve the situation.

Now that I've cleared those things up, my rant is over. Let me know what you think about the story so far. Constructive criticism is welcome and I appreciate even the tiniest bit of effort put into feedback.

Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club or its characters.

"Good afternoon, and welcome to the Host Club."

"Yes, good afternoon," an uncommonly pale girl murmured. She clutched her sketchbook tighter, as if reminding herself what she was there for.

"You're a new guest, I presume?"

"Yes. I am."

"I'm Vice President Kyoya Ootori," stated the black haired boy as he wrote something down on a clipboard. "May I have your name?"

"Sierra Abernathy."

"Ah, yes, you're the new transfer student," Kyoya said in recognition. "How may I help you?"

"If I'm able to make such a request, I'd like to sketch one of your Hosts," Sierra answered. She was getting the impression that his gentlemanly way of speaking was, to a certain extent, a persona.

"I'm sure that can be arranged." His businesslike way of speaking was now starting to irritate her. "Keep in mind that you'll be charged extra."

"Alright, that's fine."

"Our next Host will be available in exactly five minutes. Follow me."

Sierra obliged, and followed Kyoya past a queue of young ladies who were swooning as if their lives depended on it. Every time she saw a teenage girl with bright red cheeks, she felt a strong urge to laugh at the unintentional humour of it all. It was like something out of an awful romance novel, one that you'd find in the young adult section of any basic bookstore.

Kyoya stopped when he reached a small, elegant table with two matching chairs. "Please wait here. Your Host will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," Sierra said, sitting down. Kyoya then walked away and continued to tend to his duties.

With nothing else to do but wait, Sierra assessed her surroundings. Placed on the table was a teapot that probably only had the capacity of two small cups of water. Her gaze traveled to the left of the teapot, only to settle itself upon two delicate-looking teacups. On the other side of the teapot stood a two-level cake stand with black forest cupcakes on it. Sierra made a mental note to eat one of them later on.

As for the rest of the large room, it was extravagant. She couldn't decide whether she liked it or found it ridiculous - probably both. A high ceiling came into contact with the pink walls adorned by windows that seemed too large to be solely for functionality. Marble pillars gave the illusion of architectural depth. Seating areas were strategically placed around the room, and upon most of the seats were blushing, giggly female students.

The Hosts themselves were undoubtedly the most physically attractive young men that Sierra had ever seen. Each of them looked very different from the other members, except for the two twins who never seemed to be further than four meters apart.

Maybe just one sketch would be worth it.

If Sierra were to be completely honest, she would say that it was the tiniest bit sad. Art was the only thing pulling her together, the only thing stopping her emotions from collapsing and leaving her under a heavy layer of mental debris. In no way was Sierra in search of compliments from handsome males; if it wasn't for her love of art, she wouldn't have been in Music Room #3. In fact, she hated being around her fellow students. The only thing she would gain by sitting in that chair was a successful portfolio.

"Hello, are you Sierra Abernathy?"

Sierra glanced up to see a tall boy with golden hair. "Yes, I am," she responded.

"In Tamaki Suoh, President of the Host Club," the boy informed, flashing her a bright, white smile.

"Nice to meet you." Enthusiasm was very much lacking when she spoke.

"Kyoya told me that you wanted to sket-" Tamaki paused, a look of horror on his face. "My, I've just realised how pale you are! I'm so sorry, am I making you nervous?"

Sierra's lips curled into a somewhat annoyed smile. "I can assure you, I'm not nervous. I have albinism."

"O-oh. Please forgive me for being so rude," Tamaki said apologetically.

The irritated smile on Sierra's face turned into a faintly sincere one. "There's no need to worry about it. You weren't rude."

Tamaki was beaming once again. "Before you start sketching me, can I see your other sketches?"

Sierra hesitated. She looked down at her black-covered sketchbook at back up at Tamaki. "Alright."

"Yay!" Tamaki nearly squealed. Sierra couldn't help but notice the childlike joy in his eyes as he was passed the item.

A million thoughts were rushing through Sierra's head. What the hell am I doing here? and This isn't that bad were only a couple of them.

"You're really skilled!"

Looking up, Sierra saw Tamaki flipping through pages in excitement. Admittedly, the easiest way to make her happy was to compliment her artwork. "Thank you."

Tamaki gently closed the book and handed it back to Sierra. "Can I talk while you're drawing?"

"If you want to."

"Okay, then. Hmm..." Tamaki took a few seconds to think of a question. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Yes, I do. I have an older sister," Sierra answered, looking down at the light, rough outline that was forming on the paper.

"What's her name?" Tamaki enquired.

"Natalia," came Sierra's bored voice.

"What are your parents' names?"

"Maximus and Genevieve," Sierra said through slightly gritted teeth. She could only hope that Tamaki couldn't see her disdain for her parents.

"Those are nice names, but they're not at all Japanese."

"No, they're not. I'm not from Japan." Detail was gradually being added to the sketch now, and realism was slowly becoming visible.

"Where are you from, then?" Tamaki asked.

"I'm American, but I grew up in Italy," Sierra explained.

"That's interesting! Why did you grow up in Italy instead of America?"

"My parents' jewelry business was always far more successful in Italy than in America," Sierra replied, grudgingly. "They were never fond of living in America in the first place."

"Wow," Tamaki muttered. "But if the business was more successful in Italy, why are you in Japan?"

"I'm in Japan because my parents have set up the business well enough that they now have a passive income."

Now she was starting to draw his hair. The graphite pencil didn't quite capture the lustre that contributed to Tamaki's blond hair. Drawing it was probably her least favourite process, as she always maintained that drawing realistic-looking hair was an annoyance. Eventually, though, it would be worth it. Stop thinking and do it for the portfolio.

"Would you like some tea and cake?" Tamaki asked as he peered over to look at Sierra's progress.

The latter once again looked up from her sketchbook. "Yes, please," she said.

Tamaki carefully poured hot tea into two teacups that were sitting on the table next to the teapot and cupcake stand.

"Today we're serving vanilla tea, so I hope that it's to your taste," he said. "Kyoya said something about it being subtle and going well with the cupcakes."

"Vanilla is fine, thank you."

"Normally we have instant coffee. Instant coffee is a commoner's beverage but it's a hidden gem for us," Tamaki gushed. "All you have to do is add water to some processed coffee bean stuff. It sounds a little odd, but it's actually delicious!"

"I know what it is. My sister drinks it."

"She does?" Confusion could be heard in Tamaki's voice. "How did she find out about it?"

Sierra took a moment to think about it. She put her pencil on the table in order to pick up a black forest cupcake. "I'm not sure. She probably just ordered it online by accident."

"Interesting," Tamaki muttered. And he did seem interested. A bit more loudly, he asked, "Why are you attending Ouran Academy? Although we have a brilliant Arts program here, there are a couple schools that offer classes

even more advanced."

"My parents want me to excel in all areas," Sierra explained. "Besides, they pay for a private art tutor two days a week. Considering the fact that I already have a lot of technical skills, two days are all I need in addition to the academy's classes."

"Your family sounds nice, like they care about you."

"Yeah, thanks," Sierra murmured, half-sarcastically.

"Let me think of another question," Tamaki said, furrowing his brows. He appeared to be deep in contemplation.

While waiting for his question, Sierra started drawing the eyes. Eyes were her favourite part of any face. They had the ability to convey so much emotion. She, as the artist, could make them express pain, euphoria, rage, utter misery, or any emotion she could think of.

"I've thought of the question," Tamaki stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes?"

"If you have the money to attend Ouran Academy and pay for an art tutor, why didn't you just pay for a model to draw?"

"Because it's different."

"Tell me why you think so," Tamaki said, resting his one of his elbows on the table and leaning his head on his fist.

"My reasoning is simple," Sierra started, a twinkle in her eyes. "If you ask a model beforehand, they're going to have poses and expressions planned out. However, if you do what I did, and give the subject little to no time to prepare, they'll act more naturally, therefore allowing more genuine emotion to shine through."

"You really love art, don't you?" Tamaki's lips once again found a warm smile.

"I suppose I am very grateful for my ability to do art." Sierra took the last bite of her cupcake and periodically sipped her tea until it was finished.

"I don't think we have much time left. Do you have any questions for me?" Tamaki questioned after a maybe fifteen of silence.

Sierra took a few seconds to reply. Her attention was consumed by her artwork. "Could you please repeat that?"

"I was just saying that we don't have much time left and I was asking if you have any questions."

"Hmm." Sierra looked around the lavish room and an idea popped into her head. "Have you ever thought of having a female host? As far as I can see, your only clients are girls. Wouldn't a fema- or Hostess, if you prefer the term, attract male clientele?"

A wide grin spread across Tamaki's face. "That's a great idea!"

"You're considering it, then? I'm glad I could be of assistance," Sierra replied half-heartedly. She fiddled with her pencil as she tried to figure out what the drawing needed.

"You start tomorrow!" Tamaki exclaimed.

Completely disregarding what the golden-haired boy said, Sierra sunk deeper ingo thought. And then she realised what the piece was missing. "It needs a rose."

"What do you mean?"

"The drawing needs roses," Sierra said, a serious look on her face.

"Did you hear what I said before?" Tamaki asked kindly. "You start tomorrow."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You volunteered to be our new Hostess! You start tomorrow," Tamaki replied. Not even a hint of sarcasm was in his voice.

Silence.

The idea didn't appeal to Sierra even a bit. Under no circumstances did she want to spend her afternoons speaking to boys who would call her things like "Ghost" and ask her what bleach she used for her skin. Each and every one of them was an idiot to some degree.

"That's not what I meant. I meant that you could find someone who isn't me."

"But Sierra," Tamaki whimpered. "You came up with the idea. Besides, you'd be perfect for the job! Please?"

"No."

"Sierra, please?"

The albino sighed as she finished drawing the rose. "Sorry, Tamaki, but I can't."

"Why not?"

Sierra shut her sketchbook. "I don't want to."

"Please?"

Another deep breath from Sierra. "You can find someone else."

"No, I can't. Please, Sierra. Please," Tamaki begged, making sure that he really drew out the last 'please.' "Let's make a deal. Half of your job can be doing artwork for the Host Club, and you can be a Hostess for the other half!"

More silence.

You'll regret this decision.

"Fine," Sierra relented.

"Yay! Thank you, Sierra!" Tamaki squealed joyfully. He sprung up from his seat and started doing a childish dance that consisted of him waving his arms around and jumping up and down. "You need to be here an hour earlier than usual tomorrow morning to meet the other members, so make sure you're here by seven o'clock."

"Sure," Sierra mumbled. She suddenly felt exhausted - and she felt ever so slightly regretful. Shifting her gaze upwards, she saw that Tamaki was pouting.

"You didn't show me the drawing."

"Oh, right." Sierra opened the sketchbook and flipped through the pages until she found the drawing of Tamaki. "Here."

"It actually looks like me! And that rose perfectly captures my beauty," Tamaki praised. "It's wonderful!"

"Thank you." Sierra meant it, even though she wasn't sure if he was just trying to make her happy. Perhaps it was just the bittersweet trait of being a perfectionist. Because she was the one doing the art, she always noticed things she could've done better, but to anyone else it looked near-perfect.

Handing back the sketchbook, Tamaki said, "Our time is up. A few girls are still waiting to sit with me."

"Alright," the young lady said with a soft, partially forced smile. She stood up and grabbed her pencil off the table. "Once again, thank you for sitting still while I drew you."

"You're welcome! See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Sierra replied, her voice now lacking both warmth and interest. When she turned around and started walking away, she could hear a muffled sentence. Probably from Tamaki.

"Make sure to be here, Sierra," the blond repeated loudly enough for her to comprehend what he was saying.

You really can't get out of this now, Sierra thought.

Upon reaching the door, she discovered Kyoya standing there. A little black book was in his hand and a slight glare was on his face. He looked up and put on a polite, businesslike expression. "I hope you enjoyed your time, Miss Abernathy. The payment will be charged to your bank account."

"How did you get my bank details?" Sierra muttered under her breath.

"Goodbye," Kyoya said in return, writing something down in his book.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning." A vague smirk appeared on Sierra's face as she watched for any signs of confusion, but instead all she got was another distant, businesslike expression.

Her shoes made a tapping noise as she walked out of Music Room #3 and through the hallways of Ouran Academy. Even after a week of attendance, Sierra never ceased to be impressed by the beauty of the school, inside and out. She'd seen many gorgeous buildings in her lifetime, and this was definitely one of them. A small yawn escaped her as she went down the stairs. After walking through multiple parts of the academy, she reached the pickup area, where her chauffeur was waiting for her in a small limousine.

She opened the door to the back

and slid into a seat along the side. "Hello, Alexander."

"Hello, Miss Sierra. How has your day been?" the driver asked. He started up the car, causing the familiar buzz of the engine.

"It's been a bit irritating," Sierra said truthfully. "But for the last time, there's no need to speak so formally."

"I've always spoken formally to you and the members of your family. Why change that habit now?"

"Fair enough."

"There are snacks and drinks in the minibar, as per usual," Alexander mentioned.

"Alright, thanks."

"I realise that you're mature enough to know all of this, but please don't drink any of the alcohol."

"Of course I won't," Sierra said. "And there's no need to worry. I understand that you're just doing your job."

Sierra proceeded to open the cupboard on the other side of the limousine. She grabbed a bottle of water and leaned back into the seat. For the rest of the drive she stared out of the window opposite her.

"We're here, Miss Sierra," Alexander announced once they were inside the glistening, golden gate of the mansion.

"Thank you, Alexander. Don't worry about picking me up tomorrow, I'll just drive."

"Your sister doesn't like it when you drive that car," the chauffeur warned. "I myself question the safety of such an old model."

"It works perfectly fine, but thank you for your concern," said Sierra. "Consider it a day off. I'll see you on Monday."

"If you say so, Miss Sierra. Thank you," Alexander said. "Have a good evening."

"You have a good evening as well." And with that Sierra opened the door of the limousine and stepped out. She heard it drive away as she turned to face the mansion.

It was an admirable building. It was both imposing and inviting, and after living in it for only a short time, Sierra was attached to it. Well-groomed trees were skillfully placed in the front area, and roses of all colours were plentiful. From the outside, the mansion was statuesque and almost reminiscent of ancient Roman times. In Sierra's opinion, the mansion was one of the few good things about moving to Japan, and although she herself would admit that it was a bit too extravagant, she cherished it.

Sierra walked down the path that led to the entrance of the structure, and was greeted by two security guards. Just one week and it was already unnecessarily staffed.

Stepping into the mansion, Sierra found herself in its foyer. A single crystal chandelier lit the room, and two curved staircases joined at the rear wall. Both of the walls on the side split into individual hallways. Instead of darting up the stairs, Sierra went down the corridor on the left, expecting to find her sister behind one of its doors. She walmed to the single door at the very end of the somewhat long hallway and turned the doorknob.

Just as she'd expected, her older sibling was curled up in a cream-coloured velvet divan, a book in her hands and a white kitten next to her. "Oh, you're back," Natalia observed. She gently closed the book and placed it on her lap. "Celeste has been less playful than usual. I think she enjoys your company more than mine."

"Thats only because she likes the window seat in my room, which forces her to spend time with me," Sierra said in reassurance. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she put her pencil and sketchbook on the coffee table in front of the seat. "She's sitting with you now, so I'm sure she does enjoy your company."

"I hope you're correct, but in the end she's the cat that I chose for you. It's only fair that you're around her more often than I am."

"That's kind of you, but we're in the same house. We may as well share a kitten." The albino sat down on the divan next to the little creature and gently stroked its light fur.

Celeste was another one of the good things that came with moving to Japan. She was something of a consolation present from Natalia, which in itself was a bit sad, but that didn't mean Sierra didn't adore her new pet.

"I'm quite liking this library, aren't you?" Natalia enquired, looking around the room to make her point. "Its nicer than any of the libraries in our previous mansions."

"It is nice," Sierra agreed. Actually, the room was more than just 'nice.' It was exquisite. Up above, instead of a regular ceiling, was a carefully designed glass dome. Bookshelves lined the circular wall, leaving bits of space between them for dainty plants and shining mirrors. Minimal furniture was placed around the lounging area in order to create a spacious setting free of clutter.

"By the way, how was school? You're later than usual."

Fatigue washed over Sierra. "I decided to visit what the other students call the 'Host Club.' Quite a few of them were whispering about how handsome and interesting its members are, so I thought that it would be good to sketch one of them."

"Is that all?" Natalia asked. Her curiousity had been sparked.

"No. The president, whom I was drawing, somehow persuaded me to join the club," Sierra murmured. "I was reluctant, but he assured me that half of my role was to do artwork for the members. It's not as if I have much else to do. I'll still have plenty of time to work on my portfolio."

"That sounds fun! I'm so happy that you've made friends."

"I haven't made friends. I've simply made more acquaintances who mildly irritate me," Sierra corrected the older girl. After years of being optimistic, she'd concluded that it was a lot easier to be pessimistic about most things.

"Don't be so negative," Natalia said. "After handling the issues with Mother and Father so well, you cant just shut down now."

"I'd rather not speak about this topic," Sierra snapped, momentarily silencing her sister. Bitterness was all she could feel when she thought about her parents.

Ever since Natalia became an adult, they'd been making big changes to their lives. These changes involved isolating themselves from their younger daughter. Sure, they still provided her with an upper class lifestyle, but Sierra wasn't stupid. She realised that this was only because they wanted to get her out of the way. Growing up, she always knew deep down that her parents viewed her as a disappointment. After all, her sister was the one getting taken to red carpets and photoshoots for the jewelry company. But the company wasn't Sierra's problem. It was the fact that she felt unloved. Now that she was older, not much had changed, and if anything, she felt as if her fears had been confirmed. Of course they tried to lie, but Sierra didn't seem to matter to them when they were handing the custodial papers to Natalia.

It was easier said than done, but all she had to do was get through her teenage years, one day at a time.