Morning was a drag, of course. Getting up, I turned off my ugly alarm. I was most definitely not a morning person, and anyone who ever looks at me right when I wake up will agree.
My name is Hayata Kimimito and I'm now a second year at Ouran Academy. I currently live in the dorms with Sakiomo Hashimaya and Tammy Wan. Tammy, or Tam-chan, is a foreign exchange student, the only exchange student Ouran had ever had to be full blooded Japanese but from another country. She came from South America, having lived with a wealthy Peruvian family prior to her exchange. Sakiomo, or just Saki-chan, came from the middle Tokyo, having grown up as a city girl, although smart enough to have earned a half scholarship to Ouran, breaking the 'dumb city girl' stereotype for most of the attendees at this school.
I tied my brown hair into a sloppy ponytail and slithered out of bed, slugging towards the desk in the main room. I slipped into my swivel chair and turned myself to face it. I had three hours until first block. It was merely 4:30 am and I was wide awake. I looked at myself in the mirror above the laptop. It reflected the most tired face on all of campus.
And me, I'm just Hayata Kimimoto; Kimi-chan, the boring art student who paints and sketches portraits of the well-admired hosts of Ouran Host Club. I, with my circular rimmed glasses, the most mediocre, lamest, clumsiest, most average looking girl in all of the school, am the daughter of the prime minister of Japan. I'm the third daughter, and insignificant compared to my two older sisters and four older brothers, in fact, I'm the youngest of all seven children. There wasn't a soul at Ouran that knew who I was, or at least, I hoped not. I moved back here from boarding school, I'd been attending it in Los Angeles since kindergarten. This was my second year at Ouran, and in the past year, I was familiar enough with the school to have fallen in love with every host in Ouran Host Club.
Oh, the beauty of those boys, they were so… gorgeous. There was something about them that I found utterly aesthetically pleasing and I wanted to draw them so badly. I wanted to frame every piece I drew and painted because they were all masterpieces. Takashi Murakami would be envious if he knew I had the pleasure of copying the details of those six boys onto paper and canvas.
"Mmm… Kimi-chan… you're breathing loudly again, calm down," Tam-chan murmured from the couch. She rolled over, placing one of her stuffed animals over her head. I closed my mouth and leaned back in the swivel chair. I opened the laptop and waited for it to boot up, it was fairly new, and so there were no loud whirring noises from it. It did however, play a start up sound, which I fumbled to turn down. I looked over my shoulder to Tam who both remained unmoved. I sighed with relief. Looking back to the dim-lit screen, my background popped up, the beautiful host boys smiling at me ever so sincerely. I smiled back at them, looking over Morinozuka Takashi's facial expression. He smirked, looking sly, but kind and generous. Haninozuka Mitskuni was cheerful as always, radiating lavenders as an expression, however that could possibly be interpreted. Ooturi Kyouya had his middle finger pushing up his glasses, it was so handsome and… such a turn on. Boys with glasses really just... got to me. Hitatchiin Hikaru and Kaoru were the two little devils, the two that partook in a forbidden love. Although I wasn't one for incestuous romance, I did support their act, and I could see right through it. It was one of Kyouya-san's genius acts, and it just proved how much of a planner that man was and it just made me feel even more entitled to his beauty and scheme. Then there was Tamaki Suoh, the king of the club, the most recommended of all hosts, the most popular. I for one wasn't a fan of his looks. Mori-san was more my type, yet there was something that seemed hidden behind his narcissistic act. There was something fragile about him, he was certainly the most empathetic, yet he was the most insensitive—
"Kimi-chan! Shut! Up! You breathe too loud…," Tam-chan breathlessly whimpered. I clicked my tongue and looked to the screen as the Host Club's webpage pulled up. There were profile shots of each host member and I immediately clicked Morinozuka Takashi. As much of a supporting character he was for the rest of the group, I just loved him. I mean, yes, I loved all the hosts, but Mori-san was special. I admired him most.
Of course, nobody actually knew that I liked the hosts, nobody but my mother, who I only ever contacted when visiting her on holidays. I had an image within my art classes and club to maintain and according to them, I was admirable because I "wasn't obsessed with the hosts", but oh they were so wrong. Boys upon boys and even some girls had crushes on me due to my seemingly high standards that even the host boys couldn't meet.
Suddenly my mind switched over to our new class assignments. Today was the first day of my second year here, I was only wishing for something to happen this year, I wasn't sure what, but just…something.
I looked to the clock; it was still 4:30, only a couple minutes after though. I stood. I needed fresh air. The only times I ever leave the room is when I have class or I'm going to the cafeteria or convenience store, so yeah, fresh air would definitely do me good.
I grabbed my sketchbook and pencil case and room key, slipped on some random shoes to complete my pajamas, and ran out the door.
The halls were dark with zero noise whatsoever, it kind of creeped me out but I ran to the stairs as breathless as I could. The elevators were shut down before 6 am. The stairs down took a while, but my feet carried me fast. I made it out the front doors of the dorms in no time at all, running as fast as I could out to the gardens. It felt wonderful. Morning dew caught on my face and hair and dampened my clothes, and I didn't care. Today was the first day of my second year at Ouran Academy, and the chill in my bones whispered changes to me… something different was going to happen this year.
I found myself sitting on a dew-covered bench in the middle of the rose garden, sure my bottom was damp with the moisture and my hands were slipping on the pencil, dripping onto the paper, but I could feel the rush in me. Good vibes splintered my pores and a smile was plastered across my face uncontrollably. I let out a sigh of contentment.
My pencil created marks of petals along the paper, and only petals. I was a realist artist, not the cartoon kind, although I was sure that if I'd tried, I probably could draw with a cartoon style. I looked closely into the petals of one of the dark violet roses, it was my favorite one. They stood for love at first sight, royalty, and enchantment. The deep violet rose was truly a lovely, sacred rose. I snickered. And I'd just plucked one from the Ouran gardens…
The petals on the page reflected those of the flower. Too bad they smeared with the morning mist. I yawned once and rubbed my eyes. When I opened them again, they burned. I was tired, really tired. I rolled over onto my side and covered my mouth with the sleeve of my pajamas. I guess it wouldn't hurt to just… lay down here… and rest. The morning sun would wake me up…