My struggle: IS IT "KNIT" OR "KNITTED" BECAUSE NEITHER OF THEM LOOK RIGHT.

Chapter 4 – Renge's "Great" Idea Doesn't Sound Great to Me

Days end and another takes its place, and while they say that each sunrise is a new beginning, why do I always find myself living the same chaos-filled plot every time? I sighed at the voice in my head, willing it to stop reminding me of the Host Club as I rubbed at my temples, trying and failing to ignore the shouts of many girls behind me.

"I haven't slept in days…" I mumbled to myself, "but I've got to finish this." I picked up my pencil for about the millionth time that afternoon, staring intensely at the same problem I'd been stuck on for the past half hour even though no solution came to my mind. I gave up after a few minutes, however, when another cry of "Oh, Tamaki!" sounded right as I'd made a move to try and answer the question. I turned in my seat and reeled my arm back, preparing to throw my pencil across the room.

"No, Isabella." Pouting at the harsh voice of my fiancé, I spun back around to face him sitting at the other side of my table, his laptop placed strategically on his thigh instead of the table top itself, where all of my work was littered. He'd hardly even looked up to scold me, his eyes darting back and forth from a calculator to his laptop in intense focus. "Tamaki may be annoying, but he earns most of the Club's revenue. If you throw something at him, he'll get depressed and even more annoying than before – it'll probably scare away his customers."

Sighing yet again, I set my pencil down on the table, but not without stabbing my workbook one more time before I did. I snapped the offensive book shut and pushed it aside to make room for a cake that Haruhi, who's timing was spot-on, offered me. I nodded thanks and hesitantly dug into the beautiful slice, resisting the urge to voice my pleasure at the taste when the chocolate melted on my tongue.

"T-this is good," I told Kyoya quietly, shovelling bite after bite into my mouth a little faster than was polite. His lips quirked up into a slight smirk as he hummed in agreement, all the while never glancing away from his work and using the back of his hand to push his glasses up.

I paused my feast, however, when the twins piped up nearby, asking Kyoya about album collections that he sold on occasion. "Well, yes, the Club does make a fair amount of money from those promotional items, but all of our photos are taken secretly and can hardly be considered professional. Hiring a photographer for better quality pictures would only draw from the school's budget."

There were a couple of minutes of silence after that, other than Kyoya tapping away at his keyboard and the odd Host or customer in the background loudly exclaiming something. I watched him patiently, staring at his fingers as they swiftly moved from one side of the keyboard to the other until he suddenly closed the lid of his laptop, resting his now free hand on top of it. I glanced up to see his gaze on me, an irritated look on his face (at first, I thought it was because of me staring at him, and I gulped, but he spoke of something else entirely only seconds later).

"Do you remember that man that came to dinner on business last night? The French one with the daughter that stayed behind because of a video game or something?"

"Yes?" I tilted my head, wondering why he was bringing this up, of all things.

His eyebrows knitted together, and I could tell that he was just as confused. "Apparently, the daughter made a last-minute decision to visit Japan on her own without booking a hotel room. She'll be living in my house for the next few days until she finds appropriate accommodation."

At that moment, the bell rang, signalling the end of Club activities for the day. I heaved a sigh of relief and started gathering all of my papers and workbooks, stuffing them unceremoniously into my homemade satchel. Across the table, Kyoya had also begun packing up, though he was far gentler with his laptop.

I watched as the crowd of girls slowly dispersed, gossiping and laughing with each other as they did. They each stopped to bid goodbye to their chosen Hosts, and they all politely replied, but the moment all the girls were gone, the boys began their complaints and teasing. I somehow managed to ignore them until I heard: "I swear, Boss, she was so close to throwing her pencil at your head!"

"Is this true, Isabella?!" shrieked Tamaki as he stomped childishly up to me. I could only blush and avoid his stare. "Oh, the betrayal wounds me! Just now, even Haruhi accused my tears of being fake!" It was then that I noticed that all of the Hosts, aside from Kyoya, all had watery eyes like they were on the brink of tears.

"Oh, dear God," I muttered to myself.

He swooned rather melodramatically. "I, of all people, could never bring myself to use eye drops! My tears have never been more genuine…" his voice trailed off as it became nothing but an annoying, far away drone, and my attention focused on a small figure that moved in the background. Even from that distance, I could tell it was no one I'd ever seen before – her lips and jawline were quite prominent, and she had a pink tinge to her cheeks – but she wore an Ouran uniform.

The twins were next to notice the stranger, instantly sidling up close to her (I still had no idea how they managed to sneak around so much!) and inviting her to join in their antics.

"Stop that, you shady twins, you must be more courteous to our first-time guests. Please, my Princess, don't be afraid." Tamaki had run up at the sight of the girl and taken her chin in his hand, tilting her head up to face him as he always did. "I welcome you to Ouran Academy's Host Club!"

She trembled, her lips pursed, and I knew something bad was coming. My assumption was correct when the young girl shouted, "Don't touch me, you phoney!" I could hear a faint French accent when she spoke, but I held more regard to what she was saying rather than how she was saying it, especially when she began insulting Tamaki.

"I find it hard to believe that someone like you is the Prince character of this Host Club, and you shouldn't spread your love around like it's an STD so easily!" I had to giggle at that one – I was beginning to think that no one around here had the balls to say something so naughty (not including the twins). "You're stupid!"

"You're a dim-witted narcissist!"

"Incompetent!"

"Stupid! A Commoner!"

"You're disgusting!"

While Tamaki flew back into a faint at her words, Kyoya stood off to the side with a concentrated look on his face. He stared at Renge, a thoughtful, dazed gleam in his usually attentive eyes. I would've thought he was attracted to the young girl, but I quickly dismissed the idea. Tamaki fainting in slow-motion: that was somehow achievable. Kyoya falling in love was impossible.

Speak of the devil, Kyoya slowly became aware of the situation and eventually began to say, "I don't suppose you are…"

The strange girl ran forward, her arms open and ready to embrace when she cried, "It's you! Kyoya! My one and only Prince Charming!" She threw her arms around his waist, burying her head in his kimono while he could only look down in shock, thrown off by her sudden hug. Once he composed himself, he awkwardly patted her shoulder, clearing his throat as a signal for her to let go.

"Renge Houshakuji, it's a pleasure to meet you at last." He bowed, gently taking her hand and placing a kiss upon the knuckles, causing her to blush heavily. "I assume you're already aware of my name, but I am Kyoya Ootori." His cheerful tone and smile seemed forced, but I could sense an unfamiliar hidden motive behind his actions.

After brief introductions, everyone took a seat at a matching sofa and table set, though while all the boys either stood or sat in their respective places on one sofa, Renge sat beside me. Her smile was sweet and her posture excellent, and I struggled to compete – something Kyoya noticed and found amusement in, despite my trying to be discreet.

"Wait, you're Kyoya's fiancé?! What about Isabella?" I frowned, having missed the first part of the conversation, and focused my stare on Renge, who was none the wiser to everyone's confusion.

Tamaki, almost instantly, began sulking.

And the twins made light of the situation, of course, by pointing it out. "Ha! He's sulking because "Mommy" was keeping a secret from "Daddy"!" I nearly spit out the tea I'd been drinking. Mommy and Daddy? When did that become a thing?

Kyoya glowered at the two. "Whatever. Why does everyone insist on labelling us as husband and wife?" They would've replied, but the moment they opened their mouths, the strange French girl suddenly started blurting out dreamy nonsense.

"Oh, when you adored the flowers in the yard when you thought no one was looking, and when you reached out to that injured kitten! I just couldn't resist it!" My eyebrows flew up to my hairline. Was she even talking about the same Kyoya? It was unlikely.

"Are you serious? Could you have the wrong person?" Haruhi verbalised for me.

She all but glared at Haruhi as she shouted, "No way! I can recognise my love anywhere! He's a gentleman who never asks for anything in return for his help!"

"He likes solitude, but he sometimes gets lonely!"

"He's my real life Ichijo Miyabi, the star of the dating sim "Uki-Doki Memorial." The two are identical!"

The twins and Tamaki, being the melodramatics they were, started screaming about her obsession, calling her an "Otaku" and trying to claim they'd never seen one before. I almost scoffed aloud at that; they were fawned over by Otaku nearly every day, they could hardly deny it.

Kyoya, however, looked as though he'd just had an epiphany. "I get it, now. You're in love with that character, so you're projecting your love onto me because I happen to look like him (I assume he wears glasses as well), and now you've somehow deluded yourself into thinking we're engaged." He shared a glance with me. "How troublesome, since I don't remember ever asking for your hand in marriage." I looked down at that, feeling awkward.

He'd never actually asked for my hand in marriage, either.

"Besides, this is the first time I've ever met the woman," he added for good measure to please Tamaki, who already seemed quite happy with Renge having made up their supposed engagement.

Blatantly ignoring the following conversation was much easier than I thought it'd be as I absently picked at my nails, staring ahead as random thoughts swarmed through my head. I tried to imagine Kyoya's life with him engaged to Renge instead, which turned out to be rather amusing, though I could almost pity my imaginary Kyoya as he suffered through the Otaku's torture.

A sudden shout brought my attention back to the situation at hand. "I've made up my mind! From now on, I'm going to be the Host Club's manager!"

"Um, listen, Kyoya…" said Tamaki.

"Miss Houshakuji is the only daughter of a client. I must ask that you be polite and try not to upset her," the dark-haired boy responded sternly. I knew he'd had a hidden motive behind his false kindness! I should've recognised his plan sooner, however, and I knew he'd probably give me a lecture on it later. "And besides, she's transferring to class 1-A, which is Haruhi's class."

"Oh, yeah! Renge could spark that hidden femininity within Haruhi! If she's going to start acting like a girl, then now's our chance to help her." I grimaced at his undying issues with girls preferring manliness over girlishness. "Haruhi's only friends in her class right now are those twins – that can't be good for her."

The twins, having heard him, sauntered over, their expressions identical but their poses mirrored. "Like you have room to talk!" they accused.

"Renge–"

As though summoned, the girl suddenly appeared alongside her new friend – who looked rather worse for wear with her hair dishevelled and specks of flour smeared across her cheeks – while flourishing a plate of cookies.

"Haruhi and I baked cookies for you!" she sang, skipping over to the table Tamaki had seated himself at alongside Kyoya. "Not for you, you phoney Prince!" She tried her best to cover the plate she was holding with her free hand, shielding her so-called "cookies" from Tamaki when he reached for one. "They're a little burnt, sorry, but I know you'll promise to say you love them, anyway!"

Kyoya looked on in confusion, clearly having no idea what she wanted him to tell her, but he accepted the smallest cookie and hesitantly nibbled on the charred edge. "It could use some work, but the flavour isn't the worst."

Haruhi took one for herself from the plate and agreed with the Shadow King, though she was more honest about her opinion (probably because she didn't eat first-class biscuits on a daily basis). "May I try?" a twin asked, turning the poor girl's face to the side so he could bite off the rest of her cookie.

"Oh, Haruhi, you've got crumbs on your face!" the other twin teased, repeating his brother's actions and sticking out his tongue to lick off the crumbs. I shared a look of disgust with Kyoya, but he soon dismissed it as normal behaviour for them – he did make a comment, however, that only made a screaming Tamaki even angrier.

And as usual, Haruhi was completely oblivious to their antics. "You could've just told me, you know, and I would've wiped it off. No need to be so dramatic. Also, if you want to try one, just take one off the plate – it's unhealthy to share food."

I ignored everything else they said to each other, though I could distinctly recognise Tamaki's shouts of advice from the other side of the room. "Can we g-go home?" I asked Kyoya a bit desperately, thinking of my exhaustion and the pile of homework weighing down my satchel.

"Fine with me. There's a car waiting outside, and Renge will be sure to follow when I leave. I have a feeling she'll be rather insistent on ensuring that we're never apart from each other," he started, getting up from his seat and instinctively holding out his arm for me to take. "Hopefully, she won't be too much of a problem when we're trying to study."

The car ride had been incredibly awkward, as always, but with Renge constantly trying to slide up close to Kyoya, who was pressed uncomfortably against the window to keep away, it only made things worse. So much worse. As we had pulled up to the house, Renge had practically screamed at the modern design and how it was better than she'd imagined.

I failed to see the beauty in the silvery grey colours on the mansion. It almost looked lonely against the beautifully blue night sky.

Sitting directly across from me was Kyoya, who, as we pulled into the driveway, could only grimace as Renge practically clambered onto his lap to peer out of his window. My shock at his expressiveness must've not gone unnoticed, though, since he soon pulled his lips up into his legendary smirk after he glanced up at me.

"Yes. Society grows more appreciative of monochromatic colours in houses with each passing year, especially those in the black and white region." He gestured to the mansion as the driver, whose timing was inexplicably perfect, slowed to a stop right outside the porch.

"Oh, Kyoya," she sighed dreamily, "I just knew that you're good with colour. I bet it's you who designs the Host Club's costumes ideas!" She crawled back to her seat and stared at the boy with adoration in her eyes.

He cleared his throat. "Well, it's Isabella who does all that work. I do give her a basic plan to follow, though. Tamaki is sometimes quite detailed when he comes up with a specific "fantasy" for a session." He nodded in my direction as he spoke, and I blushed (out of shyness) at his mention of me.

"The kimonos we wore today," he continued, "were created as promotional items for the Hitachiin clothing line, though I'm sure Isabella would have done just as well. She's quite the designer herself – you should look at her work one day." My jaw dropped. I couldn't tell if his comment was serious or mocking, but whatever it was, it made me desperate to get out of that car as soon as possible.

My wish was granted, thankfully, when the driver stepped out of the car and opened the door, allowing me to scramble out with my bag and hurry into the house, ignoring the spluttering driver who'd tried to greet me. I felt guilty, sure, but anything beat being out there with Kyoya any longer.

"Good evening, Miss," chirruped a maid, indifferent to my late-night presence as she carried away folded towels and flannels. I walked briskly past her, consciously bowing my head and pulling my cardigan closer to my body as I jogged up the stairs.

"Isabella?" I heard Kyoya call from below, but I kept on walking when I reached the top of the steps, refusing to let him see my face. Not soon enough, I saw the door to my room, which was, unfortunately, only down the hall from Kyoya's. I let out the breath I was holding in as I opened it and slammed it shut behind me, leaning against it.

"I'm sure Isabella would have done just as well." I groaned as the words rushed through my head, and I rubbed my hands over my face and through my hair after dropping my satchel to the ground. I could only ask myself, "What the hell d-did he mean by that?"

I collapsed onto the large bed that was identical to Kyoya's in the next room, but I tried not to think of that as I used my feet to kick off my shoes, not caring as they fell to the floor noisily. I buried my face in my pillow, though it was only temporary when I remembered I needed to breathe.

"She's quite the designer herself," I whispered, feeling an embarrassed heat creep up my neck and burn my ears. I whispered them to myself once more. When he'd said them, I was certain it was just him being rude to me, however subtly, but now it felt like he was trying to say he was proud. I began to smile, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get rid of it as I rolled around on my bed, grabbing one of my other pillows to cover my face.

"Why am I like this?" I had to say out loud, even though it seemed obvious. I'd never actually been complimented before, especially not by Kyoya, and it felt awesome.

Surely that was it, right?

My thoughts were disturbed when the door burst open and in came Renge with her hair released from the bow she wore, a pair of glasses perched upon her nose, and her body donning pyjamas. I looked over at the clock, frowning at how late it had gotten before I focused on the pacing girl before me.

"When d-did you get glasses?" I stuttered.

She sent me an evil glare. "How could you not tell me Kyoya was already engaged? And to a commoner, no less! I didn't think someone as smart and proper as Kyoya Ootori would ask for the hand of an amateur fashion designer." Her finger pointed at me sharply, just inches from my eyes, and I flinched back, staring up at her sadly.

"Why is it you?" she (somehow) whined and demanded at the same time, and I was certain she would never leave until I answered her, so I pushed her hand away and sat up in my place. I patted the spot on the bed beside me, inviting her to sit with me.

Her eyes widened when I told my story for the first time, leaving no detail untouched – I'd never prepared for the moment, I thought no one would ever find out – and there were even tears falling down her face by the end of it. I never thought it was that sad, but Renge tended to be just as melodramatic as Tamaki sometimes (after having known her for all of six hours, I considered myself an expert).

She softly said, "So you–"

"Yes."

A sweet smile graced her lips, one that was genuine and nothing more than kind and gentle – it was a huge difference compared to earlier, and it was an improvement, especially since her previous grins were all determined and sadistic. It was short-lived, of course, and soon replaced by that frightening smile I feared.

"Well, then. I'll just have to get you and Kyoya together for real!"

"What?!"

She threw her arms into the air, excited and unstoppable as she began rambling. "Yes! I can see it now! Your tale of woe is incomplete without someone falling in love, and you've got the perfect candidate – you're already engaged! Oh, I already have the perfect plan!"

I sighed, knowing there was no point in telling her that it would never happen. The odds of Kyoya and I ever liking each other as friends, let alone falling in love, were a million to one, though the fanciful idea itself didn't sound so harmful.

"Fall in l-love? I g-guess I wouldn't mind b-being able to… I don't think K-Kyoya will ever be part of t-this, though, and I d-don't want him to be." I told her firmly, hoping my words wouldn't go through one ear then fly out the other.

"But you two are perfect for each other! Think about it. You hate each other, and you've got a sad backstory! It's a textbook romance just waiting to happen, so I'm going to make sure it does!" I glanced behind me at the wall that separated my room to Kyoya's, begging silently for him not to wake up and hear everything Renge was saying.

I shushed her with a finger to my lips. "N-no, Renge. It's not going to happen."

"See!" she whispered. "You're acting just like the protagonist of a love story! I just have to convince you that you're really in love with him! Maybe I can– " I internally groaned as she continued, hearing a beep as my watch passed onto the next hour. Perhaps I wouldn't catch up on that much-needed sleep after all. Who knows? Even if I managed to doze off, I knew I'd be hearing her nagging voice in my dreams anyway.

A/N – Yes. I gave Renge glasses, but she NEVER wears them except at night when she takes her contacts out. She plays her game in the dark all the time with a bright screen. Surely that isn't good for her, so I sent her to an optometrist.

A/N – Also. ANOTHER CHAPTER SO SOON! YEAH!