Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.
Thanks to Emmaline Haesel, Lily Fenton Phantom, lmncake, claraowl, DoomgirlForever, belelle, Midnight4568 and kc495 for your absolutely amazing reviews!
This chapter is in Tamaki's POV (at the request of lmncake!) and is based on I Need Your Love by Calvin Harris feat Ellie Goulding.
Maybe I am too dependent on Haruhi, but it is only because I am not as assured as I may seem. Of course I am cool, that goes without saying. But when it comes to Haruhi I feel like the sky is falling around me and I am the only one whom is standing stationary gazing at the seemingly frothy clouds. And before you ask, I am not high but merely contemplative.
Haruhi doesn't appear to adore me in the same way I adore her. And I am not going to lie that kind of hurts but ah well, there are plenty more fish in the sea as they say.
I have always wondered about that quite idiosyncratic proverb which seems to be rather popular nowadays much the same as yolo, that irksome acronym. Why should someone portray yourself in a certain way when you are as handsome as I?
I have been sitting absolutely motionless in my special emo corner as mommy likes to call it. It is merely a place in which I can perch my pert ass on (well, I have received no complaints as of yet and I don't prophesy any objections either, if you must know) and meditate about my problems. Like what if the chef serves up another plate of ootoro which hasn't been poison tested? I mean, I could die without another word and nobody would be none the wiser about my death. Or what if Haruhi were to reject my advances once again? Or if the poster of myself that hangs on the south facing wall is crooked. You know, regular stuff that affects every human being.
Well, now that I think about it. I don't need her love. There are many girls who appear to venerate me in every sense of the word and I am not being egotistical. Okay, perhaps I am being a tad narcissistic but you can't honestly admit to not becoming influenced by such flattering attention. By any case, my grandmother is quick to nip any overly conceited tendencies in the bud without as much as a kind word. But it doesn't bother me as I know that she loves me deep down. Very deep down. Whatever. She is of the old gentry and they don't tend to be overly demonstrative. She is compassionate towards me, it's just that she is a highly judicious individual whom cares more for proper etiquette and posture.
Regardless, I can't dwell on such a topic as the doors of the infamous Host Club that I founded, are due to open in less than five minutes and I have yet to change into my Roman Gladiator garb which is the theme of today's host meeting. I can hardly wait!
Not only have I changed into the rather elaborate clothing in record time and have begun posing as an added benefit in anticipation for the meeting to commence, but I have also been gazing at Haruhi whom has just arrived, seemingly deep in conversation with the one and only Hikaru. My eyes flash in anger and if this were an anime, then waves of hatred would emanate from me-oh yeah, that's right, I forgot this is an anime.
Just so you know, at the beginning of the chapter, he was just being typically melodramatic!
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I hope that you enjoyed this chapter!
Apologies for the terrible quality!
I am actually in total shock! I did not expect 104 reviews when I began writing this story! Thank you so much!