I stared incredulously at the outfit in my hands. "Do they really expect me to dress like this? This was not what I had in mind when agreeing to sing for you eggheads."
She winced, watching me like I was a bomb about to go off. "Well, it's not that bad."
"Look at this!" I hissed, brandishing the cosplay costume in her face. It consisted of a leather extra, extra tiny miniskirt, a skimpy cow skin jacket, a crimson cowboy hat, and worst of all, six inch stilettos. "And these heels! I don't do heels!"
Unfortunately for me and the rest of the club, Tamaki had Western as today's theme. And not Western like Europe, but Western Western, which consisted of cowboys riding bareback on wild stallions, lassos, and-
Well, you get the idea.
She grimaced, eyes glued to the miniskirt. "Yeah, you're right."
"It's a good thing I anticipated this, because I brought an extra change of clothes," I announced, rifling through my schoolbag for the grocery bag with the white dress I could actually tolerate wearing. Tamaki wouldn't be very pleased about my stunt, but hey, like I said, I valued my dignity.
"Nice move." Haruhi nodded in approval, before frowning. "But-"
The curtains parted with a swish. "It's a good thing I anticipated this, because I confiscated them from you," an irritatingly smug voice said, belonging to a certain bespectacled baboon I knew.
Kyoya dangled my plastic bag enticingly in front of me, moving it just out of reach when I lunged for it. Goddamn our height difference.
"Bastard," I spat, abandoning my efforts.
"Just get changed," he said simply, slipping out without another word.
I groaned, wrinkling my nose in disgust at the sight of the miniskirt. "Who the hell does that smartass think he is?"
I probably could have gone on forever, but Kyoya's voice suddenly popped into my mind, reminding me that if I worked for the Host Club, he would pay the remainder of my tuition. I clenched my fists, squeezing my eyes shut. Come on, Ayame, it's only a stupid outfit, you can do this, you can do this.
No matter how many times I repeated the mantra, it didn't quench my desire to tear Kyoya's smirking face into ribbons.
Finally consigning myself to my fashion predicament, I forced a grin and gave my friend an affectionate push towards the curtains. "I guess I'll just have to change! So if you'll excuse me, my darling kohai."
She gave me a worried look, as unnervingly perceptive as always, but gave a minimal shrug of her shoulders and left me to myself. I puffed out my cheeks, turning my attention back to my atrocious costume. You can do this, Ayame. You can conquer the cosplay.
The heels were every bit as uncomfortable as I imagined, turning me into a wobbly wreck as I stumbled into the room. The gears in my body were going haywire, sending me the message that if I didn't lose those shoes pronto, I was sure to face-plant into the polished floors of Music Room #3.
Sighing theatrically, I shifted the weight of my backpack from shoulder to shoulder, gripping my guitar case with sweaty palms.
I was supposed to sing some stupid American pop song for my debut performance- something I most certainly wouldn't stand for- which was a much more pressing issue in comparison to my wardrobe woes. But, I thought, as my lower lip curled in a smirk, that was the one thing Kyoya couldn't prevent me from doing: singing a song that was well-suited to my definition of music.
Tamaki squealed and rushed over to me, bouncing on the tips of his toes. "Ayame, dear, you look absolutely stunning! Hitachiin-san really is a lovely designer!"
"Speak for yourself," I muttered, waddling to the edge of the stage and pulling myself up.
The room was decorated to resemble a desert, complete with a sandy carpet and artfully placed potted cacti. Besides that, the room was basically the same, with its plush chairs and immaculate coffee tables, the view of the spring scenery from its floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
"Hi, Aya-chan!" Honey leapt onto the stage, decked out in a pony costume. "You look great!"
I managed a tiny smile for his sake. "You too, senpai."
He giggled softly, before dashing off the stage, only to be lifted up by Mori and hoisted onto his strong shoulders.
Tamaki clapped his hands briskly, and the Host Club went rapt with attention, eyes on the king. "Places, everyone! Our dear guests will be arriving in no time at all. Remember, our mission as a club is to-"
"Make every girl happy," everyone chorused. I exchanged an eye roll with Haruhi.
"Roger that, boss!" the twins said in unison, saluting him.
The leader of the club made his way to the front of the room, scaling the steps that led to the stage. He adjusted the expensive microphone and gave it a little tap, causing a dull noise to resound throughout the room. "Excellent. Gentlemen, our first club activity with our new member may now commence!"
Kyoya nodded briskly, flinging open the door and ushering in the flood of girls who were desperate and rich enough to actually enjoy this crap. They gazed in awe at the room, oohing and aahing over the tasteful decor.
I had to stifle a laugh at the sight of Kyoya's ridiculous cowboy outfit, accessorized with a lasso, red bandana, and quite the impressive handlebar moustache. He caught my eye and scowled, but plastered on a tight-lipped smile onto his face when the girls started to coo at him.
When the girls had all filed in and chosen seats around their favorite hosts, Tamaki flashed his pearly whites at everyone. He cleared his throat, in a ludicrously awful Western accent, declared, "Howdy everyone! Welcome to the Host Club! We have some very important news today!"
I was starting to receive a bit of attention from the guests. Fierce glares, harsh whispers, the usual. However, seemingly oblivious to this, Tamaki continued his announcement. "We have a new member here in the Ouran Host Club: none other than the lovely Ayame Nakamura, who will be performing today! Please make her feel welcome to our new family, partners!" He positively beamed, clasping his hands together.
From what I could gather from the glowers directed at me, I would receive no such thing.
An girl with a mass of perfectly tamed honey blonde curls piled on top of her head stood up and began to applaud Tamaki, her lips pulled taut in an icy smile. "Why, Tamaki-kun, I think that it's simply lovely that you're lending your hand out to the-" she shot me a simpering look "-less fortunate of our elite academy, and you should be praised for your chivalrous efforts. I'm sure that all of us will make Ayame-san welcome here. Right, ladies?"
"Yes, Mayumi-chan," they all murmured.
I seethed, my fists clenching behind my back. Who did this girl think she was? Less fortunate? Chivalrous efforts? I was just about ready to crush her with my six-inch heel and send designer perfume fragments soaring out the window.
I had no doubts that Kyoya was eagerly looking for ways to increase the time I had to work here, and would probably find a perfect opportunity if I so much as laid on finger poor, delicate Mayumi-chan. "How...how courteous of you," I said, through gritted teeth. "Thank you for your generosity, Mayumi-chan."
"Anytime, hon," she said with a cool smile, smoothing down her buttercup yellow skirt.
Our eyes locked, the entire room collectively holding their breaths as we engaged in a silent battle of wits.
Oh, this was war.
"Um, okay, so...hop to it!" Tamaki blurted out, eyes flickering from me to her as if we were nuclear bombs about to obliterate Ouran Academy. No matter how half-assed the attempt, he had managed to diminish some of the awkwardness.
Mayumi shot me a patronizing look, before tossing her blonde curls over her shoulder with a little huff. "Yes, dear, of course."
He smiled, obviously relieved, and before long, all chilliness had seemingly vanished into thin air. Dispersing into the crowd, the hosts began to chat up their guests, their giggles and cheerful babble filling the air.
Tamaki pursed his lips in concern, about to open his mouth, but was deterred when Mayumi beckoned him towards her. Shaking his head, he looked pointedly away and obliged. Embracing him tightly and lacing their fingers together, she shot me a smug look and steered him away.
I sat perched on my stool, watching as the scene unfolded before me. Everyone was up to what I assumed to be their usual antics; the twins were keeping up their incest act, Honey was chomping delightedly on a slice of strawberry cheesecake, Haruhi was fending off from her rabid admirers, and Tamaki was seating girls in his lap and charming them with his vast array of cliched pick-up lines.
But, as I sat there, I couldn't help but feel there was something missing.
A pair of hands shoved three trays in my arms. Startled by the weight, I just barely managed to catch them, nearly sending one clattering to the floor.
I scowled at Kyoya. "What the hell was that for? I'm not Superwoman, you know. You could have killed me!"
"It would take far more than that to fatally injure a healthy teenage girl such as yourself," he said prissily, adjusting his glasses. "Are you planning on sitting here by yourself the entire time?"
"Funny, that's just what I had in mind," I snapped, resisting the urge to slam the trays of assorted pastries into his face. "What are these for anyway?"
"I would have thought that was obvious." He raised an eyebrow at me, motioning to the crowd. "Just serve them to our customers, talk a little bit, and somehow charm them into not despising you."
I put on a mock-hurt face. "Aw, did you really have to be so blunt about it?" When he remained impassive, I heaved a sigh, dejectedly flicking a loose strand of hair from my face. "Well, it's pretty obvious. You saw that little episode with Mayumi. Who is she, anyways?"
"The daughter of an important Otori client," Kyoya deadpanned. He proceeded to clap his hands, shooing me towards the mass of hormonal teenage girls. "Now, now, the customers are waiting."
Stepping gingerly off the stage, I plastered on a movie-star smile, corrected my abysmal posture, and feebly offered the pastries to the guests throughout the room. Giving me hope that not all rich people were total eggheads, I was pleasantly surprised to receive little smiles from those who did accept my offer and daintily selected a pastry. Maybe Kyoya was right; the pastry approach had taken off fairly smoothly.
The pleasant smile slipped off of my face at the pure venom on Mayumi's face. She smiled coolly at me, beckoning me over with a single manicured talon.
After handing a nearby girl a blueberry fruit tart, I reluctantly obliged, taking a deep breath a crossing over to her table. "Yes, Mayumi-chan?" I managed.
"Oh, Tamaki, dear." She turned to the boy besides her. "Could you give Ayame-chan and me a moment? I would like to have a nice, cozy chat with her."
I definitely could have found better adjectives to describe just what kind of chat we were about to have. Perhaps "torturous" and "excruciating" would be more preferable options.
Taking a deep breath to prepare myself for whatever she was planning to do with me, I gingerly eased myself down on the plush chair, gripping at the armrests with tense fingers. If she dared to short-circuit my temper with whatever crap she was about to say to me...well, things could get ugly.
"Alright, then!" Tamaki trilled, clambering to his feet. "Enjoy your heart-to-heart talk, ladies!"
"Yeah, sure," I said weakly, placing the trays on the coffee table.
He winked at me and waltzed away, no doubt off to report our miraculous breakthrough to Kyoya.
Once he was fully out of earshot, she let out a scoff, immediately abandoning her perky attitude. "You must be enjoying yourself, no?"
I tilted my head to the side, giving her a sugar sweet smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about.
"Of course," she huffed in exasperation, as if I were the overgrown brat who wouldn't shut her face. "I believe your ego has gotten inflated as a result of the attention you're getting. Since you don't seem to be particularly intelligent, let me spell it out for you: you're not important, sewer rat."
Oh, so I was the inflated sewer rat? Somehow, I managed to keep my composure. "Is that all you have to say to me?" I said nonchalantly, offering my tray to her. "Anyways, before I move on to someone actually worth my time, would you like a pastry?"
Her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, she growled, reaching forward and snatching a chocolate eclair off of my plate. "My theory is that you've gotten the idea in your ugly little head that you're better than everyone else simply because they chose you. You want nothing more than to exploit them, don't you? To break their poor, poor hearts once you're done? Well, do you want to know what I think? You're nothing but a filthy mongrel who doesn't know her place!"
Mayumi proceeded to flail her arms, catapulting the pastry straight into my face.
I raised my hand to touch it in disbelief, staring at the chocolatey smear now coating my fingers. Before long, my shock was replaced with blazing rage. I picked up an empty tray and a stray pastry, brandishing them menacingly. "Oh, it's on."
She snatched up a cup and tossed its scalding hot contents in my direction, but I ducked, leaving a copper-colored puddle on the floor. I snatched up a handful of pastries and threw them in succession, aiming them at various weak points on her body. Letting out a shriek, she held up her hands in an 'x' to prevent them from smacking her face, staining her buttercup yellow sleeves.
Pretty soon, quite a few heads were turned in our direction, eyes widening in horror as they gazed at our wild frenzy of a battle. Her friends quickly joined in, bombarding me with cake, scones, biscuits, and whatever other confectioneries were available to them. Ducking, swerving, and rolling around on the floor, I evened the score with some custards of my own, holding up my tray up to fend off enemy attacks.
Just moments later, everything had dissolved into chaos. All I could see over my makeshift shield was food flying everywhere, the guests that were out of earshot of Mayumi's table confusedly throwing their pastries aimlessly across the room. I grinned as one smacked Kyoya's forehead, crumbs and chocolate cream smearing over his face,
It felt so exhilarating, being in my element with our classic food fight. Despite that nagging feeling in the back of my mind of oh fuck what the hell am I doing, I wasn't conscious of much else but the pastries and trays that were gripped in my hands. It was so incredible, laughing maniacally as Mayumi cowered beneath my fierce attack, melting into a helpless heap of yellow cloth and the Host Club's pricey sweets.
Through the thick curtain of flying food, I spotted Tamaki's vague silhouette moving towards us. "Ladies! How was your-" He paused upon catching sight of the madness that descended upon us, jaw going slack.
"Oh, Tamaki, dear," Mayumi sobbed, slinking over to where he was standing. He seemed repulsed by her, shrinking away when she placed a crumb-soiled hand on his shoulder. "Nakamura-chan attacked me! I attempted to talk to her, but it seems the hatred runs deep. Tamaki, whatever shall I do?"
"Kindly talk to me? You called me an inflated sewer rat!" I hissed. "Tamaki, don't listen to her!"
"Um, wow, I just-" he stammered, and only then did I realize how unconvincing I seemed against her, the irate commoner with a penchant for letting her temper get the better of her. Of course Tamaki would take her word over mine. The immaculate rich girl or the sloppy artist?
The choice was obvious.
However, Tamaki couldn't have surprised me more.
"I believe you, Nakamura," he said firmly, shrugging her off.
"You what?" I gaped at him. "You actually-actually-"
"Believe you? Yes." Tamaki transferred his attention to Mayumi, fixing her with a steely gaze that made her wince. "How could I not, Nakamura-chan? We're a team."
Impeccably timed as always, Kyoya somehow materialized before us and laid a hand on her shoulder, gesturing to the gilded doors of Music Room #3. "I believe it's time for you to show yourself out now, Mayumi-san."
She hastily wiped her watery eyes with her sleeve, smearing more pastry mush onto her face. "Tamaki...you idiot!" she shrieked, pelting him with a stray custard. Fighting back choking sobs, she stormed out the door and violently slammed it shut, leaving us to brood in silence.
Finally snapping out of it, Tamaki scrambled to the top of the stage and attempted to restore order among the distraught crowd, tapping the microphone to draw their attention. "I'm sorry, princesses, but I'm afraid we have to cut today's activities short to clean our gathering room. We apologize for this inconvenience, and hoped you enjoyed today's events! Thank you, and please come again!"
The customers grumbled under their breaths, but grudgingly complied, allowing Kyoya to herd them like a flock of sheep and send them filing out of Music Room #3.
No one looked at me, or spoke to me, leaving a sinking feeling in my stomach. How could I have been so stupid? How would they ever trust me again?
"Man, senpai, that was awesome," one of the twins (maybe Hikaru?) piped up once everyone had left.
"Really," the other added, clapping me on the back, "you were amazing in action!"
I didn't reply, merely turning on my heels to face Tamaki, the one who I felt deserved my heartfelt apology. "Tamaki, I'm really sorry."
I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up, startled. Those violet eyes were looking at me with a sincere kindness, telling me everything I needed to know. Taking a peek at the carnage, I could see the overturned tables, china shards, spilled drinks, and pastry crumbs littering the room they worked so hard to keep polished to a gleam.
Had I really started this? And yet, here he was, willing to forgive me everything.
I felt a surge of warmth towards him as he tousled my hair. "It's alright, but," he hesitated, his lips upturning in a small, albeit reluctant smile, "please don't try something like that again. As much as I like a good old commoner food fight, really, it's a horror for my hair."
The gnawing guilt suddenly vanished, and before I knew it, I had dissolved into a puddle of snorts and giggles. Clutching my strained stomach, I managed to gasp, "I...threw a pastry...at her face!"
Holding onto one another, we laughed to the brink of insanity, oblivious to the club's blank stares.
Kyoya approached us and adjusted his glasses, the sight of the smears of pastry on his face sending me into another fit of hysterics. Ignoring this, he simply gave me a lemony smile and gestured around the room. "I hope you know that it's your responsibility to clean this mess up."
The happy-go-lucky grin slipped off my face and I sighed, bending down to pick up my tray and a stray chocolate croissant.
