Title: Unfortunate Predicaments
Author:
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Pairing: Haruhi/Kyouya
Rating: PG13, for slight language
Summary: Haruhi muses about life in the host club, unknowingly mustering her thoughts, loud enough for a certain shadow king to hear.
A/N: Hi all, I wrote this fic way back in 2007. It's my first OHSHC fic, completely random and birthed from my boredom and complete apprehension to studying on a Friday night. I've done some edits now in 2018, and I hope to continue where I left off.
Thanks to everyone who've left reviews 11 years after this fic was posted. It spammed my email like you wouldn't imagine – enough to get me back here and writing. You guys literally hauled this fic out of its grave, and got its author looking at it again with fresh eyes. Haha. Hope I don't disappoint any of you!
The afternoon was long and draggy, an unfortunate predicament for a certain brown haired cross-dresser named Fujioka Haruhi. Although the Third Music Room was equipped with sufficient air conditioners to accommodate their guests' apparent sensitive and fragile skin, the brown eyed teenager still had a few beads of sweat forming at the base of her forehead. The weather was just not compliant with her that day.
"Oh well," she muttered, "at least I'm not stuck in the sweltering heat outside for some frivolous picnic of sorts."
Haruhi sighed in resignation, remembering the last time her half-French senior try in vain to dress her in a long and lacey gown from what seemed to be the Victorian era. It was complete with a matching bodice and umbrella, especially prepared for a picnic in the academy's grounds. As it was to be expected, the twins were snickering in the background at her disgusted expression, whispering things to each other that the scholarship student would rather not know. She could have sworn her left eye was twitching in irritation.
As for the dress, she blatantly refused it without a second thought, leaving the blonde haired President moping in a corner of the room, a dark aura enveloping him. Haruhi was accustomed to his consistent mood swings, so she paid his brooding no heed.
The shadow king was somewhere in the background, a sly smirk pasted on his features as he jotted down notes on his infamous journal.
Watching her fellow club members fool around with the obviously smitten young ladies within the same pink, four walls as her, Haruhi sank deeper into the sofa she was seated in, almost sure that no one was paying attention to her. A perfect time to slack around.
Sometimes, she wondered why she never fell for the other hosts' charm or their wit. True, she admitted that the rich young men were indeed handsome, but strangely not enough to warrant her attention and utmost admiration. At least not enough for her to admit to herself, anyway.
"Oh Tamaki-kun! Tell me more!" a girl squealed as she swooned from the opposite side of the room. Judging plainly from her plaited hair that hung in rings, tied with somewhat gaudy purple ribbons on her petite blonde head, as well as the seemingly humanly impossible amount of jewelry adorned on her neck and arms, the girl was definitely one of the princesses whose families Kyouya would absolutely love to have good ties with. That plan obviously progressing smoothly. The shadow king was definitely good with accomplishing anything he set his mind to, and he was, needless to say, more enthusiastic when some sort of profit, be it in financial or other terms, was involved.
Speaking of the devil, the dark haired sophomore was standing more than just a few meters away from the Host Club's President, inadvertently taking notes on his small, leather clad journal. Beneath the glare from his oval glasses, Haruhi was almost sure she saw Kyouya's eyes twinkle in amusement. Fascination? Or was it in accomplishment, the joy of a job well done? Immediately, Haruhi dismissed the latter thought from her mind.
Kyouya, genuine? Those two words were as unlikely a pair as Mori-senpai chattily going on a double-date with Tamaki. Haruhi fought the impulse to shiver at the notion.
The aforementioned shadow king, she deduced, does not have the capacity to feel such innocent and altruistic emotions like happiness, generosity, and care. Jealousy, cunning, and selfishness were the characteristics she half-expected the avaricious future businessman was only capable of. After all, he was the one who first imposed the arguably impossible-to-repay debt to her, which she had long neglected to keep track of, due to the many other complications and additional debts within her strange, albeit interesting stay in the Host Club.
For instance, he added yet another twenty thousand yen to her ever increasing debt due to her unintentional ripping a small portion of what he claimed was an ancient 'Ming' dynasty shawl. If it was that expensive, why was it displayed so openly that oblivious people like her were very likely to trip over it? Haruhi smelled something fishy.
Anyway, she only saw the glimmer from his steely grey eyes before they resumed their former refuge beneath the reflection of his thin-rimmed glasses within a split second. If she had not been caught by his stunning onyx shaded eyes, the brown eyed teen would have reckoned that she just imagined such a peculiar thing happening.
Wait a minute. Hold up. Back up. Haruhi slid her thin fingers in her ruffled tresses. Did she just tell herself that the ever rich bastard, Kyouya Ootori's eyes were stunning?
"Who's a rich bastard?"
Frozen for a moment, the 'natural type' slowly turned around from her reclined position in the couch. While muttering under her breath, Haruhi met the cool steely gaze of her ebony haired sempai.
"Err, some guy in school."
Well, that was true. Just vague. Extremely vague at that.
"Oh? Is there any chance that I'd know him?"
Great, Haruhi's subconscious chastised, you're sinking in deeper and deeper into a web of lies. He obviously planned this. It won't be long when you'll be paying another few thousand yen for, what, dishonesty and disrespect to your seniors? It never ends. It's still a mystery why your father worships the road Kyouya-sempai walks on…
Shut up, Haruhi berated herself, and think of a good alibi.
"Maybe? I'm not sure if you know him, senpai…" she replied with a stutter.
So much for good alibis…
"You clearly underestimate my networking skills yet again, Haruhi. Obviously we'd have to do some research on whoever that rich bastard of yours is, for him to have such stunning eyes." Kyouya said, aforementioned glimmer of interest making a re-entry to his bright grey orbs yet again.
"Renge's doujinshi series has been bringing some profit in," he continued, "and I reckon whoever this mystery guy of yours could nonetheless increase the income of the club by allowing himself to be part of the doujinshi. This would allow you to pay your debt off earlier. You do want that, don't you?" the vice president finished, raising his eyebrow in anticipation.
You are in SO much trouble.
Oh zip it.