project: Beekeeper's Sons
disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club, or the characters in it.
summary: The birds and the bees was never really a topic I understood. All I got from it, is that as a 'bee' I will pollinate as many 'flowers' as I see fit. But somehow, that made me a home wrecking, boyfriend stealing sl*t. Whatever, there are five sides to one story.

pairings: MoriOc, some TamaHaru


prologue

.

.

.

When I was in seventh grade, my history teacher was once asked what he thought I was truly like. He told the class that I was kind, sweet, and caring.

The class had never laughed so hard in their life. I'm serious, one kid even laughed his self into an asthma attack.

For the record, I am none of those things. If I had to describe myself in one word, it would be a slut. However, that term makes me sound really, really cheap. I prefer "One who is generous with her erotic charm".

Say it out loud, makes me sound almost like a Host.

But really, contrary to popular belief, I am not as promiscuous as my peers make me seem. I would never sell my body for money, however a nice tip could go towards my new shoe-fund.

You can't be mad at me, after all, you don't even know my story. Which, now that I think about it I should be telling you. I am getting ahead of myself, as if it hasn't happened before.

Before I was a harlot, I was simply a flirt, a player, a heartbreaker. Even after that, you can say I was a whore without the slut qualities.

You see, when I had first moved here – to Japan, I mean - I was about twelve and puberty had begun to hit. My chest was growing, but at the time I was a mere a-cup. There's no fun there, so I sassed up my look a bit.

By sassed up, I mean I stuffed my bra and wore butt-pads so I could look grown. I even started wearing lipstick. I was that girl in your middle school who you thought was shared by the entire soccer ball team.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but even if that had been my goal at the time I'm sure your 'crush' couldn't even get erect.

I'm pretty sure I was a tad bit Les-bi-honest around that time, though. I don't know. I remember playing seven minutes in heaven with at least five girls and one boy. I remember this, because I was locked in the closet with Ayanokoji – who by the way turned horribly girl-crazy.

I think that's why she probably attacked Haruhi, 'cause you know. Contrary to popular belief, Haruhi has more feminine qualities than she does masculine. A blazer does not hide curves, and I would know. I tried.

I wonder if you guys might understand where I'm coming from if you knew I was one of the four 'darker-toned' students that attended Ouran.

No, I'm not a ganguro. That looks disgusting. I'm just of the African American variety – even though that variety doesn't particularly exist in Japan.

Whatever.

Back to the topic, though. There are fives sides to this story; My side, his side, the positive side, the negative side and the right side. I really should tell you my side. I'm not a home wrecking, boyfriend stealing slut. I swear to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth.

By the power vested in me, I promise to tell the truth and nothing but the truth – or as true as I think it should be…

P.S.: I'm not even wearing a vest…