It was aggravating, having her around him all the time. It was bad enough that he had to see her four out of the five periods a day, due to very similar schedules. Even lunch now had to be spent with her, since it was a known fact that she was a fiend of bringing rye or vodka to school in the most unusual carriers possible.
She seemed to make it a point of annoying him constantly, of having him try to break out of this stupid deal before she could. Kyoya knew just how much it must have tortured her, hearing all those idiotic rules that she was forced to obey, lest she wished to be kicked out of school and disowned as the heir to her parent's multimillion dollar legacy.
"Hey, Kyoya-chan," she called for the fifteenth time in the past five minutes, eagerly tapping the keys to the BlackBerry she never kept more than two inches away from her.
"What do you want?" he choked out, far too tired of repeating the fact that she had no right to call him by such an embarrassing and arrogant name as she did. Who exactly did she think she was, anyways?
"Can I go to a party this Friday evening?" she asked.
"No," he replied coldly, sinking the chopsticks he held straight through the middle of the pork he was awaiting to eat. She refused to stop asking such foolish questions, though, and whining about it when he denied the requests.
"Why not?" she cried futilely. Of course, she already knew why; he wasn't supposed to let her go to a single party or have even one sip of a beverage containing even the slightest amount of alcohol. There wasn't even a party this Friday, though Miku was sure she could easily arrange there to be. Nevertheless, most of the parties she was asking to attend to were purely made up to deliberately annoy the raven-haired man who always retained such a cool and collected composure.
She would break the Ootori boy soon enough.
"I told you time and time again," he hissed through his teeth. So close, he knew. He was so close to exploding. But he couldn't do that, not at school. No one was to know of the demon he had living inside him. At Ouran, he was Ootori Kyoya – the cool boy who showed no signs of negative or horrible emotions. She would never break him from that label. "You are not allowed to attend a party until you graduate."
Slowly, the beautiful lady leaned across the table from him, getting dangerously close to his face. It was obvious from the dark look in the gray eyes belonging to the lean boy staring at her that he was not happy, and more than likely, quite filled with intent to kill. But she didn't care, only smiling her best smile and 'turning on' her seductive charm that everyone told her she had.
"You know, you and I could always ditch the afternoon classes and have fun somewhere. Say, the washrooms. Or my house, if you prefer somewhere soft for your first time." She giggled darkly, shifting in her seat slightly. "If you wanted to make it really legit and romantic, I could even pull out all the cards for you and get rose petals scattered across the floor, candles lit up and everything... Maybe even a dinner, though we'd probably use the table itself..."
"Might I inform you that this is a form of harassment?" he replied coolly, taking a bite of the pork he had earlier skewered.
As her yellow eyes met his sinister gray ones, she pulled a tape recorder from underneath the table.
"Might I inform you that voice recordings can be easily reworked so that you end up as the bad guy trying to get me into bed with you?"
"You have a record, Kushiro-san, of being manipulative and clever."
"As do you, Kyoya-chan."
His hands clenched tightly around his chopsticks as he threatened through his teeth in a quiet tone, "Do stop calling me that moronic nickname."
As they snapped in half, the long fingers of the teenaged sex fiend wove themselves into her purse, emerging with a new pair of chopsticks in the paper casing, like the ones they give away free at commoner restaurants. It was an insult, he knew, and as she left them there in front of him, he couldn't help but feel himself being degraded, knowing that using them was his only option to eat.
"A moronic nickname for a moronic fool. I certainly think it fits. Don't you?"
Her smile was cruel as she left the table to join the long cafeteria lineup.
God, did he hate her. Just seeing her slender back made him want to stab those cheap chopsticks of hers straight through her shoulder blades and out of her chest, to see her bleeding and gasping for air.
But he shook his head, banishing such horrible thoughts from his mind before it quite came to reality, like he was afraid it would. Just how much of her could he withstand before going mad...?
Nervously, the six remaining Host Club members – who had been watching the scene unfold from a few tables away in an attempt to avoid the angry wrath of the Shadow King – emerged to his side slowly.
"K-Kyo-chan...?" Haninozuka Mitsukuni – more widely known as simply 'Honey' – said slowly. To the ears of the Ootori child, 'Kyo-chan' was much too alike the annoying 'Kyoya-chan' as his enemy called him. So a merciless glare filled with hatred was sent in the small blond Haninozuka's way.
"What are you doing around her?" Fujioka Haruhi asked innocently. She hadn't even known, in all honest, who the woman he had been forced to look after really was. The only thing the scholarship student knew of Kushiro Miku was that she was trouble, and definitely not someone of value would keep in proximity to themselves.
"It's not by choice," assured the gray eyed genius who had gotten himself into such a bad position.
"She's coming back," Hitachiin Hikaru and Kaoru said at the same time, pointing towards the oddly beautiful bombshell who had a knack for causing trouble. With her delicate hands, she carried a red tray, scarce of much food other than the single muffin and glass drink.
Without even saying a word, she slid into the bench table in front of Kyoya, ignoring those who had joined the table.
"Check it," she stated, shoving the drink into Kyoya's area of the table.
He glared at her for a moment, but she crossed her arms. "It's in the rules, man. You have to, or you lose."
The others watched as Kyoya slowly poured a small amount of her drink into his own empty cup, tasting the apple juice inside to make sure it contained no alcohol whatsoever.
"This is absurd," he complained, waving his hand to dismiss it as free of any addictive. She snatched the drink, holding it above the table and swishing it idly, leaning on the table and staring at the beautiful boy eating complacently.
"W-Well... We're gonna go..." the blond and awkward Suoh Tamaki stated, trying to escape with his group. As he was almost out of the table, though, Kyoya's hand grabbed his wrist, and with one deathly look, the group of six sat down once more.
"So, Kyoya-chan, are we going to the Host Club today?" Miku asked deviously.
"Of course," responded he, closing his eyes and finishing the food he had been yearning for since she appeared.
A grin took over pink lips, and she leaned forwards more. "Are you absolutely sure in this decision?"
He opened his eyes then, looking up at her with all the anger he had shown to others.
She shrugged then, standing up from her seat and getting onto the seat she had previously been sitting on, then onto the table, nearly stepping on the plate he ate off of.
"May I have your attention, gentlemen of Ouran High!" she shouted royally, her hands high in the air. "I, Kushiro Miku, will be at the Host Club today, entertaining and wooing all of you lovely lads out there! Please, join me in the Host Club room and prepare to be swept off your feet by my charms!"
With no sound to acknowledge her speech, she sat back down, satisfied in her 'feat' even though it had not seemed to generate an uproar.
Kyoya glared at her, his hands clenching on his chopsticks once more before they cracked. In an angry fit, he dropped it on the table and stared her down.
"You are most annoying," he pointed out.
"Then end this and go tell Hiro you're not doing it. Let me win," she replied smugly.
This was going to be easier than she thought.
Kyoya got closer to her already-in-reach face, staring directly in her eyes with everything he had been concealing for the past morning. In that moment, he looked like he could slaughter thousands of innocents and feel nothing; the eyes of insanity.
"I. Will not. Lose."
She backed away with a smile on those lips, digging into her purse once again. Her hand emerged with another pair of commoner chopsticks, offering them to him in a rude fashion. "Then the war truly begins now."