Hi. This is my first OHSHC fanfic, really, except for this one I tried writing that was so bad I didn't bother to post it or continue writing it. I got this idea from Miss Avarice. Read all of her OHSHC stories. They are awesome. Like, really, really awesome.
I changed some canon dialogue a little to suit my needs. Sorry.
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Sometimes lies were more dependable than the truth.
-Orson Scott Card in Ender's Game
The thing about Éclair was that, no matter how much she stood out, she never was there for long. When she was younger, all of her governesses had only lasted for a few months at most. Something about her drove each and every one of them away.
Even her bout with the Host Club had only lasted a few days, and then she had returned to France.
Oh, how she hated being nothing.
But there was one person she had known for more than just a passing moment.
--
"Éclair-san, isn't the sky beautiful?" Calm. Collected. Politely pleasant. Completely fake. At age ten, he was already an accomplished liar. As was she.
Smile. "Of course it is. Twilight is one of the most beautiful times of day."
A quirked eyebrow. "'One of'? What is the most beautiful time?"
"That is subjective." Was he looking for a way into her mind, or was she just paranoid?
"Of course it's subjective. What do you believe is the most beautiful time?"
"Midnight."
Two fake smiles.
--
If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was doing nothing. But she was the youngest, and so she couldn't take control. Not yet.
He had already taken control, and then given it back. What made him so special?
What made him so much better?
--
"Éclair-san, isn't the sky beautiful?" Calm. Collected. Politely pleasant. Completely fake. At age twelve, he was a more accomplished liar. As was she.
Smile politely. Look up slightly. "Of course it is. The colors are beautiful."
"They are similar to the colors of your dress. You look lovely." Smooth. No infliction in his voice. As though he was merely stating a fact. No matter how accomplished his lying was, he had to work on faking emotions.
"Thank you." She was wearing purple. She couldn't stand warm colors. Red. Orange. Yellow. Too cheerful. "I trust that your family is doing well." Niceties. Small talk. Useless. But then, that was politics.
"Yes, they are doing well. Is your family doing well also?"
Nod. Smile. Be a puppet. "They are doing well. Thank you."
Two fake smiles.
--
She considered suicide. How easy it would be to end it all. She could even have someone help; money could get her almost anything.
A bullet to the head—she could play Russian roulette. Poison—maybe not painless, but she had always been a bit of a masochist. An overdose of drugs—painless, but quick.
But in the end, she couldn't. She was too much of a masochist to go the easy way.
--
"Do you have feelings for her?" Calm. Collected. Polite. Not quite pleasant.
"Of course not. She's merely paying off her debt, and keeping the idiot from imploding." At age sixteen, he nearly fooled her. Nearly.
"How much does she still owe?" Her lying was still better than his. Same as always.
Closed his eyes. Fixed his glasses. "600 million yen." Toneless. He still had to work on his emotions.
"I'll pay for it. All of it."
One fake smile.
--
She claimed she hated him. It was easier that way. Truthfully, she did resent him. He got there before her.
Three days. He got there three days earlier.
She wasn't jealous, though. She resented him. There was a difference.
Or so she told herself.
--
"Do you care anything for anybody?" Calm. Collected.
"Of course not." At age twenty, it seemed that his lying skills were getting worse. But then she realized, she just knew him too well.
"You're a liar."
"Why do you say that?" Politely questioning. No genuine curiosity.
Smile. "You stopped my little attempt at breaking up your 'family'. You obviously cared about something."
Ice. "I didn't like being helpless."
"But you always were helpless, weren't you?"
"I hated being reminded of that fact. I still do."
Remain smiling. "I know."
"May I pose a question to you, Éclair?"
"Of course."
"Do you care anything for anybody?"
"Of course."
"For whom?" He sounded curious. Genuine.
"Myself."
But, alas, he too knew her too well.
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The end. How did you like it? Can you all guess who "he" was? I hope so. Questions? Comments? Concerns?