Archive of Our Own

Whatever his Ritalin dosage is, it isn’t enough.

Aaron sighs as the ambient chatter drifts through the huge library, weaselling into his brain and preventing him from making any meaningful progress on writing out his Chemistry notes. He clenches his fist around his pen – well, not his pen, one that he’d scabbed off of one of his pretentious, uppity classmates since he’d somehow managed to misplace all twenty of his own pens. And they were only a month into term.

The delicate fountain pen snaps in half. Blue ink drenches his hands and splatters across his jumper. He screws his eyes shut and groans – library be damned. It seems everyone in this fucking school doesn’t give a shit about decorum in libraries anyway. All these damn rich people probably see Ouran’s vast libraries as another venue for their networking.

Conceding defeat, Aaron scoops up his notebook and non-school-issue backpack. At least his jumper also isn’t uniform-standard, as that’d be costly to replace. He’s pretty sure the uniform is dry clean only. Aaron’s jumper is his nicest one, granted, covering a hand-me-down button-up collared shirt from his mom. Also, obviously, not uniform standard. 

They couldn’t afford the uniform. Not even with the ridiculous “payment plan” the school had offered. His mom had warned him to keep his head down, to work hard, to not let himself get distracted in class and start goofing off, all so the school administrators keep turning a blind eye to their scholarship student’s sloppy appearance.

Aaron has stuck to his promise. Not because he’s committed to his studies – even though he’d always been – but because the people here are so vastly out of Aaron’s world that communicating with them is an exercise in torture. 

He trudges through the endless, vast hallways of the school. All three libraries are full of chatter too, and all the club rooms are in full swing with various, ridiculous rich-people activities. Fencing, calligraphy, sculpting, glass blowing, pottery, you name it, Ouran had it. 

He considers studying by the beautiful crystalline lake amassing a large part of the school’s grounds, but even that’s a no-go. He glances out one of the wide windows and catches sight of tens of lilly-white sails fluttering in the wind, a crowd conservatively cheering on the sail race.

Ugh.

Maybe he should just go home? He could get a headstart on some of the weekend’s chores, cook dinner for when his mom gets home, play some Xbox, see if his friends from middle school are online…

No. No, he can’t go home just yet.

He hugs his notebook closer to his chest and realises too late that the ink hasn’t dried. He groans, and that’s when the sign catches his eye.

Hanging on a protruding metal rod is a sign that reads Music Room Four.

The schedule posted on the wall next to the ornate double-doors is blank. Normally, all the rooms are filled with postings – a hundred different times for the piano, flute, theremin, etc. Maybe they hadn’t updated the schedule?

But, when Aaron trudges closer, cautiously hopeful, he doesn’t hear anything from inside.

Score!

Aaron heaves open the giant door and slips inside. The lights are off, the massive room illuminated by the high-arched windows running along the far wall. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.

“Well, what do we have here?” comes a voice from the darkness, disturbingly close to Aaron’s ear.

Aaron damn near shrieks. He whirls around and stumbles a few steps backwards, only to collide with a tall, imposing chest. Large hands come up and pat Aaron’s shoulders. Aaron twists out of their reach and staggers towards the centre of the room, facing the four strangers standing either side of the door he’d just come through.

The one who had spoken first grins, mouth splitting wide like a chesire cat’s. He’s shorter than the rest of them, but from that grin alone, Aaron gets the sense that that means little. The boy kicks a leg up onto the wall behind him, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows, as if Aaron is an interesting toy that’s just been dropped into his lap.

“I’m afraid we’re closed,” says a different man, who has a short crop of brownish-blondish curls and freckled skin. In his hands, he holds a clipboard, and barely spares Aaron a glance before he goes back to reading it. 

“Zane,” a third boy scolds. He’s tall, but not as tall as the one Aaron had bumped into, who still hasn’t said anything. This third boy struts Aaron’s way, chin held high as if he’s royalty. “Don’t be rude to our honoured guest.”

His accent is a little strange. Accents are not atypical for students at this school – most of them have at least one foreign parent, and many grew up abroad. But this guy’s is weird, in that he seems to be trying to hide it. He does an okay job, if it wasn’t for the way he says honoured. He pronounces the h, and it trips Aaron up enough that he gets stuck on trying to figure it out.

It’s not until the accent guy is right in front of his face, his fingers tilting Aaron’s chin up, that Aaron realises how close he’s gotten.

“What do you think you're doing!” He rears backwards, arm careening for support. His fingers brush the edge of fine lacquered wood and curl around it for support.

The other man approaches still. “So shy!”

The first one who had spoken – the short one who's Aaron is now realising has been in a few of his classes – speaks again, drawling his words as if Aaron has bored him already. “I didn't realise the honour student was openly gay.”

“Openly what?” 

He doesn’t have time to ponder, because then the boy in front of him leans in again and blows a puff of air into Aaron’s ear.

Nope, no no no! He’s got to get out of here, he’s got to get away from these crazy rich people and their crazy–

He jerks backwards so fully that when he realises what’s happening, it’s too late. Something large and delicate behind him is teetering with him, and Aaron can barely twist around to catch a glimpse of its porcelain, jewel-crusted exterior before it topples over its pedestal. Everything seems to slow down as Aaron lunges after its handle, thinking only:

Shit, that looks expensive.

And then the porcelain meets the marble floor. Bent double on the pedestal, Aaron gapes down at its shattered remains, spreading like a killshot. 

“Way to go, Einstein,” the bored boy comments, swinging his legs from the wall to stride over. He inspects the damage, hands in his pocket and one polished shoe toeing the carnage.

“Our auction! Zane!” the tallish boy who doesn’t respect personal space cries out, looking backwards at the white boy.

“Hmm,” Zane says, not bothering to walk over, leaving him the only one by the door as even the super-tall one waltzes towards Aaron. “We’ll need to recalibrate.”

As the tallish boy – who certainly seems to be the ring leader of this strange group – laments, head fully in his hands, Aaron’s guilt worsens.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, even though a part of him actually thinks: It’s kind of your fault, man. “I’ll pay you back.”

He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth, but his mom had always instilled a sense of justice into him, and he’ll be damned if he backs out.

“Hah!” the short one barks out. “No offence, but look at you.” He uses his shoulder to gesture at Aaron’s clothes, as if he’s too good to even take a hand out of his pocket.

“I doubt you can afford it,” Zane says. “That was our prize piece. Bidding was supposed to start at ten thousand.”

“Ten thousand?!” Aaron echoes, his panic rising again. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! Honesty and pride be damned, he needs to get out of this. “Um, can I pay a different way? I can– well, I can work hard, and I-I don’t always, you know, like, pay attention and stuff but I can clean and run errands and–”

The ringleader straightens and runs a hand through his braids, brushing them back. His hysterics from a minute ago have been entirely replaced by a cool persona. 

“Great idea, commoner!” Ugh. “You can pay us back with your body.”

“Oh– that’s not what I– um–”

“Relax, little orphan Annie,” says the short one, the corners of his lips twitching. “Kevin doesn’t mean it like that.”

“That was crazy though, Kev,” scolds the tall one, speaking for the first time in this exchange. Then, to the short one, he says, “We’ve been letting him get away with too much.”

“What? Denny, what did I say?” Kevin asks, then seems to forget he’s asked because he shakes his head and points one regal finger down at Aaron. “From now on, you’ll be the host club’s dog!”

“Awrf,” the short boy – Denny – says.

“Dog,” Aaron repeats, feeling rather dumb. He’s also already starting to feel like he should’ve just taken out a loan or something, because these rich people might be so out of touch that they haven’t realised that slavery’s ended. But, no, there’s no way he could afford a loan, if anyone would even lend ten thousand dollars to a broke fifteen year old.

No, the only way out is through.

~

Though, maybe murder-suicide is an option.

Aaron weazles his way through the buzzing music room, frowning at the distinct lack of any music-playing. It’s flooded with people – mostly girls, in their ridiculous poofy school dresses, but some guys, too, who seem a bit shy and loiter around the edges. 

In the middle of it all is Kevin Langue, twirling roses and waxing poetry to these beautiful idiots. 

Aaron barely stifles a sigh as he makes his way to the back of the room, where Zane is standing with his clipboard. Zane’s only in the year above Aaron, but he looks so fitting with the formal school jacket and tie, that Aaron can picture him as some high-paid exec ten years from now.

“Thank you,” Zane says as Aaron deposits the grocery bags on the back table. Aaron musters up a smile.

He likes Zane, despite the conniving snake-like nature underneath his politeness and his none-too-subtle reminders about Aaron’s debt. Herm has barely said a word to him and is, on account of his height, wildly intimidating. Denny scares Aaron, in that he’s a brilliant actor – around the women, Denny acts a little coy, and it’s very charming. But, when the club closes, a switch seems to flick inside him, as if there’s no one among the five of them that Denny cares about impressing. He’s almost cruel, but cruelness implies a certain level of effort. 

In simpler terms, Denny doesn’t seem to give a shit about anything.

It’s a wonder why he even does the club, especially when there’s Kevin. Aaron hasn’t quite worked out the host club’s president yet – unlike Denny, Kevin is always acting like this. Overly dramatic, overly charming. 

Aaron’s just not convinced it’s real.

“Dog! Come to master!” Kevin hollers across the room.

Denny, ever present, snickers. “Heel, boy!” He calls out. The room erupts into rich-people titters.

Aaron, still facing the back wall, rolls his eyes. Zane catches the movement, and smirks.

“Better go before they get worse,” he suggests. Then: “Bring the bag. It’ll distract them.”

Aaron begrudgingly takes one of the bags with him, and leaves the rest for Zane to sort out. 

(That's not happening. He knows that it's untrue as soon as he thinks it, and that he'll be the one unpacking them later. Fucking rich people.)

“There's a good doggy,” Denny coos, reaching up to ruffle Aaron's hair. Aaron has long since given up on fighting that off in the hopes that Denny will get bored of it.

But Denny seems to know it bothers him secretly, so he hasn't showed any signs of stopping.

“Did you get our coffee, little lamb?”

“Different animal species,” Aaron mutters. Denny hears it and snickers to himself. 

Kevin snoops inside the brown paper bag and pulls back, aghast. Prized between his thumb and his pointer is a slender white can, boasting an image of a kiwi and a strawberry. His other fingers flick upwards in the way that you'd handle a dirty napkin. 

“They were completely out.” Not entirely true – they were out of the affordable brands. The next was $60 for a premium 600g pack. Which is just way too much, host club card or no. “I figured caffeine is caffeine, and this seems fancy enough. It's sparkling.”

“Sparkling,” Kevin echoes, looking at the can of Celsius as if it's personally offended him. “What, like Fillico?”

Aaron's never heard of that, but he's guessing no. 

“Energy drink,” Denny reads. Then, out of the corner of his mouth and just loud enough for Aaron to hear, he says, “As if Kevin needs more energy.”

Aaron bites back a smile. It’s weird. He doesn’t think Denny likes him, but sometimes he’ll do stuff like this – say something solely to Aaron. At least, that’s what it feels like. Probably, Denny just doesn’t want his entourage of adoring fans to realise how snarky he actually is, and he doesn’t give enough of a shit about Aaron’s opinion to censor himself.

He is funny, though. When it’s not directed at Aaron.

The crowd gathers around, drifting towards Kevin’s gravity.

“How do we drink this commoner’s drink?”

Around him, the upper echelons of this ridiculous school whisper amongst themselves:

“Looks poisonous.”

“I heard aluminium cans like that have toxins in them.”

“Do poor people really drink this instead of coffee?”

Aaron rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can. “I’m sorry, alright? I’ll go back to the store and get the coffee.”

“No!” Kevin exclaims, and he reaches across to grab Aaron’s wrist to prevent him from turning. “I’ll try this sparkling drink!”

Excited applause breaks out amongst the students.

Kevin examines the can further, then flubs one finger against the ring of the can. “Wow, this is hard,” he mutters to himself, and it’s so sincere that this time, Aaron laughs out loud.

“You’ve never opened a can before? Come on, give it here.”

“No, I’ve got it!” Kevin says, spinning around so that he can hunch over it, trying to open the ring. After he spins it around a few times, he realises that he’s got to get it standing upright. He tugs it experimentally, straight upwards.

“Here, I’ll show you,” Aaron says, holding out his hand for it. Kevin eyes him for a moment, then hands it over, a small grateful smile spreading across his face.

“Thank you,” he whispers, adding in a wink for good measure.

Aaron’s stomach flips.

Woah. What the hell? 

Aaron shakes himself out of his brief pause and goes back to demonstrating the remarkably simple task of opening a can. For Kevin’s benefit (because the rest of the rich student body can go screw themselves), Aaron explains out loud. “You don’t want to pull straight upwards, as the ring can sometimes come off. You want to make sure it’s pressing against the circle here, as it’s thinner than the rest of the can and will pop open with enough force.”

“Won’t it go into the drink?” Kevin asks.

“I’ve drunk from a lot of cans, and that’s never happened to me. It’s like a hinge, sort of.”

Kevin nods in understanding. He’s so intently focused on Aaron’s explanation, fingers curled under his chin as if he’s studying the movement. 

Aaron can see how it would be endearing.

He pops the can open.

“Wow,” Kevin says, clapping his hands together in what seems to be genuine amazement.

“Not a bad trick, pup,” Denny says, applauding too. Aaron glares at him. Denny smirks back.

He hands it to Kevin and watches in real time as he switches from his gentler, genuine self to his showman person. He brandishes the can up in the air, prompting cheers from his loyal subjects.

“Denny, count me down!”

Denny obliges, and at zero, Kevin takes one long gulp. A hush washes over the crowd. Everyone leans in as one organism, hinging on Kevin’s reaction.

He lets out a rasp, smacks his lips a few times, and then:

“Délicieux!”

With Kevin’s approval, the students scramble for a can. As they swarm Aaron, Aaron realises he’s staring at Kevin.

French. He’s French.

Huh.

Then Aaron’s distracted again as the students start complaining.

“There’s no more?”

Aaron can’t help the flash of disappointment as he looks at the empty cartons scattered around the room. Fucking animals.

“You didn’t get a Celsius?” Denny asks, sipping from his own and looking at Aaron with raised eyebrows.

“No,” Aaron sighs.

“But don’t you have them all the time?”

“Never, actually. I was looking forward to trying it.”

“Oh,” Denny says. “Have mine then.”

“Really? Thank you!” As Aaron reaches for the proffered can, Denny snatches it back.

Denny laughs. Annoyed, Aaron slinks off to the back of the room.

Somehow, Zane’s gotten a Celsius, too.

“Why’s your tail between your legs?” 

Aaron doesn’t bother answering. “I’m gonna go put these away, and then duck to the store.”

“Don’t dawdle too long. You’re on the clock, remember?”

Aaron takes back everything he ever thought about liking Zane.

He scoops the remaining bags in his arms and stumbles blindly to the club room’s kitchen. 

He runs into someone. “Sorry, just trying to–”

The person grabs the bags from him. 

“Oh, thank you, but I can–” he starts to say, but Herm’s already turned around and walked off with the bags. Aaron follows him into the kitchen. It’s mostly unused, since all the catering for the club’s activities is organised privately, but Aaron stores his lunch from home in the fridge sometimes. It’s the only perk of being in the club that Aaron has found, so far.

“You really don’t have to,” he says as Herm begins unpacking the bags for him. Aaron hopes Zane doesn’t see – he’s the type to add ten minutes to Aaron’s debt of 300 hours of menial club labor.

“It’s fine. Gives me a break from out there.” 

Aaron nods. “You don’t like it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Aaron falls silent as he joins Herm in the process of unpacking and putting away items. 

After a stretch of thirty seconds, Herm says, “You’ve really never had a Celsius?”

“You have?” Aaron can’t keep the surprise from his voice.

“Well, yeah.” Herm doesn’t elaborate, and Aaron’s still too intimidated to press the matter.

“There,” Herm says when they’re finished. He pats Aaron’s shoulder. “All done.”

Aaron looks up at him, head tilted. He knows very little about Herm, other than that he’s a senior and on the basketball team. Aaron’s vaguely aware that Zane, Denny and Kevin come from ultra-rich families, mostly because every single school event has their last names blazoned as premium sponsors. The school seems to run 90% off the funding of the Helbergs, Irbies and Langues.

Herm’s family must also be rich, considering he attends this school, but Aaron hasn’t heard anything about the Wrices.

“Thank you,” Aaron says again. 

“It’s whatever. Friends help each other out.”

Aaron blinks and tries to mask his surprise. He feels very warm suddenly.

“You seem different from the others.”

Herm snorts. “What, is it that obvious?”

“No, I just meant– is what obvious?”

Herm studies him with an overt skepticism. But Aaron really doesn’t understand what Herm means. All Aaron meant is that Herm doesn’t seem to have two personas. No matter what, it’s only Herm – fully himself. And it’s a good personality, too.

“You got a poor person radar?”

“Huh?” 

Herm shakes his head, chuckling to himself now. “Oh, you really don’t know?” At Aaron’s continued confusion, Herm crosses his arms across his stomach and laughs harder. “Man, that’s good to hear. I’m a scholarship student, too, Aaron. Athletics, obviously.”

“Oh,” Aarons says, pleasantly surprised. “Oh! I didn’t realise Ouran had athletics scholarships.”

“It’s rare,” Herm concedes. “Mostly because all these old money folks can pay for celebrity coaches. But not a lot of them go for basketball – I guess ‘cause it’s not a classy sport, or something.”

“Basketball’s cool!” Aaron protests. “Though, I guess I’m only saying that because I’m not rich. You go for Lakers?”

“When I feel like losing.”

“Hey! That’s not even, like, accurate. The Lakers are one of the most successful NBA teams! 17 championships, man!”

“That’s all LeBron,” Herm dismisses. “Without him, you guys suck.”

“And without blueberry, a pie is just crust! What kind of argument is that?” 

“What kind of argument is that? You hungry, or something? They not giving you enough food stamps?”

“Only ‘cause you’ve been stealing them! Are you trying to build a tent with them?”

Herm bends over double, laughing hard. Aaron realises he’s laughing, too. It’s a nice feeling.

“Hey, seriously, though,” Aaron says once the chuckles subside. “How’d they force you into all this? Do they just leave vases lying around in the hopes of capturing more indentured servants?”

“No, man. I chose this.”

“What? Why?”

Herm shrugs. “Kevin asked me to. I couldn’t see why not.”

“No offence, but, I don’t get it. You weren’t tricked into it?”

“They’re not bad people, Aaron.” Herm sighs, and rests against the counter. “They’re a lot, obviously. They’re ridiculous and a pain in the ass. But they’re good people. Kevin, especially. He’s really passionate about this. It’s hard to not share in it. And, besides, I like the feeling I get from it.”

Aaron snorts. “Right. Because of all these girls falling over you.”

“No, well, not entirely. I like making people smile. I like helping people in that way, you know?”

“I guess I can understand that. Funny story, for ages I wanted to be a comedian. I made my mom sign me up for all these improv classes and I actually got to perform a few times. It was great!”

“Why’d you stop?”

Aaron shakes his head. Shrugs. “Anyway, you said they were all good people? Even Denny? I don’t even think he likes doing this, to be honest.”

Herm’s demeanour shifts. He kicks off from the counter and brushes down his uniform, then puts both hands on Aaron’s shoulder. “Especially Denny. And Denny never does things for others without getting something out of it, ever.”

“Those two statements seem mutually exclusive.”

“Well, they’re not. Denny’s not a selfish guy.”

“But you just essentially said that he is!” 

Herm purses his lips and pats Aaron’s shoulders, then leaves the room. Aaron blinks after him, thoroughly confused. He feels like he’s misstepped somehow.Through the open door, he watches Herm lope towards Kevin and Denny. Denny spots Herm’s approach and lights up, calling Herm over to join in on some joke at Kevin’s expense. Kevin’s shouting, stamping his foot like a child, which just makes Denny laugh harder.

Herm greets Denny with a pat on the head, which seems like it should feel condeceding, but Denny leans into the touch. Then, in the next moment, Denny says something that Aaron can’t hear, but knows is making fun of Herm, since Kevin begins to point and laugh.

Aaron doesn’t understand Denzel Irby at all.

~

Aaron circulates around the room, sticking to the walls. He’s not really sure what he should be doing, but he doesn’t want to leave early in case Zane’s watching. 

Speaking of Zane, it’s strange to see him in host mode, rather than vice-president mode. Zane is set-up on a private date with one of their premium clients – which makes the club members sound like strippers, but Aaron hasn’t voiced that thought. He looks more relaxed, throwing out calculated jokes that have his date giggling into her palm.

Aaron’s actually quite impressed. He didn’t think any of the hosts knew the first thing about dating – not that Aaron’s an expert by any means. His studies always meant he had no time for any of that. That, and he doesn’t think he’s particularly lucky in love.

“Oh, shoot– I’m really sorry,” Aaron says as he almost falls on top of a guy. 

“No, you’re– you’re good, it’s kind of my fault for standing in the way–”

“No, come on, you can’t use that logic! If you were a pedestrian and I’d driven my car up on the footpath to hit you, I’d definitely be at fault!” Aaron needs to stop talking. He’s not making any sense.

The guy gives him the mercy of laughing anyway. He’s tall – not as tall as Herm, but taller than Kevin. Which is strange, because he looks vaguely Asian. It’s not something Aaron can place right away, though.

“Um, you probably think I’m weird,” says the strange tall guy with floppy black hair, “hanging around and not actually talking to any of you.”

“No, not at all! Honestly, you’re probably the first normal person I’ve spoken to all day.”

“You’re Aaron, right? The scholarship kid?”

Aaron shrugs. “Yeah, I guess that’s me. Sorry, I don’t know–” 

“Oh! No, of course.” Aaron doubts that’s an of course. Most people at this school seem to know exactly who everyone is, constantly measuring their peers for their future usefulness. “Innes Dela Cruz.” Innes sticks out a hand, which Aaron takes.

“Dela Cruz; is that Spanish, or–?”

“Sort of. I’m Filipino, but almost all of us have some semblance of Spanish blood, so…”

Aaron nods. “Got it. So, you’re not going to arrest me for not being Catholic, are you?”

Innes barks out a laugh. “I don’t know, I love a crusade. There’s something very sexy about ships and sword fighting.”

“Now that’s definitely a double entendre.” Aaron doesn’t think he’s being very funny, but Innes laughs again.

“Hey, um, sorry if this is too forward, but do you mind if we sit down?” Innes gestures at the wrought-iron tables scattered around the room, armed with plush chairs for their ultra rich guests to lounge in. 

Aaron’s not sure if he’s actually allowed to sit in the host area, but fuck it. This is the first maybe-friend Aaron’s made, and if Zane ups his debt because Aaron takes some time to chat, then it’s probably worth it.

They sit down, and Aaron’s surprised when a cup of tea appears in front of him. He’s not one for tea, and he’s still pissed that he hasn’t gotten to try any Celsius – now the host club’s signature drink – since the stocks disappear so fast, but it’s nice to sit down like this.

He chats to Innes for a while, who laughs at all the jokes Aaron tells. It’s a nice feeling, especially since Innes doesn’t mind Aaron asking questions about him. Some of the other students he’s tried this on look at him incredulously, as if Aaron should know enough to look up their families before attempting small talk.

After maybe fifteen minutes, a different guy coughs. “Excuse me,” the new person says to Innes, tapping one finger to his shiny watch.

Innes flushes. “Right, sorry,” he says, and skedaddles before Aaron can protest.

That was rude. Aaron doesn’t say it, but he turns to the new person, thoroughly confused.

“Evan Thiel,” he says, reaching for Aaron’s hand. “Your year. We share Latin together. Si pulchritudo lac erat, ut tu vacca esses.”

Aaron laughs not because he understands, but because that’s the most ridiculous thing anyone’s ever said to him. Is that even a common Latin saying? 

“Are you calling me fat?” Aaron says, miffed. 

Evan looks mortified. The reaction is so severe, Aaron actually feels bad for him.

“No, it’s okay, sorry. Or, uh, paenitet, right?”

The next hour goes much like that, with his partners switching every few minutes. It’s only after the third one that Aaron realises it’s every fifteen minutes to the second, but he’s still thoroughly confused until the end of the day. 

As the last of the host club’s guests filter out of the doors, Aaron goes to pack up, when Zane’s hands land on his shoulders. He pushes Aaron to the middle of the room, thrusting him before Kevin.

“We need to do something about him,” Zane says.

“Agreed.” Kevin considers him, one finger on his cheek. He squints down at Aaron, making him feel very small and very lost.

Denny circles around him, tutting. “You had us all fooled.”

“Really?” Herm says. “Are we all forgetting that he sought us out?”

“I did not seek you guys out, I was looking for a place to study!”

They ignore him. Aaron doesn’t even know what he’s arguing, which makes it all the more stressful.

“Well, the clothes have to go,” Kevin decides, slamming a fist down on his palm.

“Pause,” Herm says. Denny chuckles, but Kevin ignores them both.

“Why do you wear this ratty outfit? It doesn’t suit you at all.”

Aaron stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“No, it’s ugly,” Denny confirms. “But I’ve got some spare uniforms. My tailor fucked them up and I’ve been meaning to get rid of them, so, I guess you can have them. Don’t worry about a charity tax receipt.”

“Hah, hah. Are we even the same height?”

Denny looks taken aback. “Are you kidding me? No way you think you’re taller than me.”

“Well…”

“Turn around! Right now! Zane, you’re the judge.”

“That’s biased.”

“How’s he biased? He likes you better than me!”

“I never said that,” Zane says, which is essentially an admission. 

Smug, Aaron takes his position – him and Denny standing back-to-back. Kevin hums as he considers them.

Zane squints at them, then strides closer. He brings one hand up and presses it flat across both their heads.

“Huh,” he says. “Exactly equal.”

“What? No way.” Aaron spins away and looks at Denny. Denny smirks back at him. Now that he thinks about it, they are eye-level…

“It’s your hair,” Denny says. “You’ve tricked yourself into believing you’re taller than you are.”

“Well, whatever. I still don’t understand why I need to get rid of these clothes. The teachers have given me a special exemption and there’s no point in wearing the uniform this year as I won’t be able to afford it next year–”

“Who cares about next year? Stop thinking so far ahead,” Denny laments, sounding frustrated. 

“You need the uniform because, starting today, you,” Kevin says, striding closer to Aaron and beaming down at him, “are a host.” Kevin’s hands land on Aaron’s shoulders.

Maybe he means it in a comforting, celebratory gesture, but they serve to trap Aaron in place as his mind whirs to process this information.

“What?!”

~

Aaron hadn’t expected how visible the new clothes would make him. They fit him perfectly, which must have been a major fuck-up on Denny’s tailor’s part, considering the guy’s arms are bigger than Aaron’s on account of his muscles. And, well, Aaron can’t deny that the uniform looks good on him. 

But, well, he kind of thought that he’d blend in more once he had the uniform. And maybe he would’ve if it wasn’t for becoming a host.

Zane had explained it to him after Kevin’s sudden announcement. Apparently, when Aaron thought he’d been having a lovely conversation with Innes, he’d actually been hosting, and Innes and a few of the other guys had requested to sit with Aaron again. Since Zane organises the schedule, the requests had gone through him, and Zane had flagged it with Kevin.

Aaron’s not sure why it’s a big deal, but then Herm shares that those guys never actually interact with any of them, despite coming along to the club events. Something about the rest of them being hopeless when it comes to men, which doesn’t make much sense, since Aaron thinks they’re all hopeless all the time.

For a few days, nothing really changes aside from Aaron’s schedule getting busier and a lot less time spent running errands. Plus, his debt has changed from a time quota to getting clients to request him. Only 100 – Aaron’s done the math, and if he averages the six he got from his first unofficial day as a host, then it’ll only take him seventeen club days to clear his debt. It’s way sooner than the 100-150 host days it would’ve taken him as just a dog!

“Thanks for requesting me again,” Aaron says, greeting Innes with a smile.

Innes ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, of course. The uniform looks great, by the way.”

“Oh, really? Thank you. Denny gave it to me. I was worried that he’d done something to it, but it fits well, doesn’t it? I’m so paranoid about ruining the clothes though, I’m a bit of a slob.”

“Wow, I don’t get that impression from you at all. You seem very put together.”

“My mom would disagree with you! But I’m glad it comes across that way.”

“You’ve mentioned your mom a few times. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your dad?”

Aaron’s smile freezes. He shrugs his shoulders and looks down at his cup of tea, which he’s barely touched amongst all the talking. 

“Sorry–”

“No, it’s fine. The honest answer is that I don’t really know. He was never part of my life, and it’s always been just me and my mom as long as I can remember. She’s sacrificed a lot for me; I owe her everything. So I’m grateful that I could get the scholarship, and come here. I’m going to be a lawyer, because it’s my dream that I’ll be able to retire her. But to do that, I need to get into a good school after I graduate, so I gotta work hard here.”

“Woah,” Innes says. “That’s beautiful. You must be a good son.”

“Well, all I can do is try, right?”

After his time with Innes is up, Zane beckons him over.

“Did I screw up?” Aaron says, wringing his hands. It doesn’t help that Denny’s next to Zane, looking mildly annoyed. “I’m still getting used to this, it’s not really–”

“The opposite, actually.” Zane shows Aaron his clipboard. His requests have filled up almost the entire page, shrinking the others. “You got twenty new clients wanting to sit down with you just today.”

“I guess you have a way with the men,” Denny drawls, which doesn’t really sound like a compliment. But Aaron doesn’t care what Denny thinks. Twenty is a fifth of his quota!

“Ignore Denny. He’s just bitter because you’ve taken some of his female clients as well.”

“Man whore,” Denny mutters.

“No, I actually wanted to congratulate you. You’re a natural. Keep it up, and you might even surpass Kevin.”

“Thanks, but that’s not really something I aspire to.”

Denny makes a sound that’s almost a snort, but one that’s stifled halfway through.

~

When Aaron gets to class the next day, he’s early. He’s always early these days, because the club takes up all his afternoon free time that he would usually use for studying. He’s increasingly falling behind in his school work, and it’s starting to stress him out. 

Only two more weeks, Aaron reminds himself.

He slides the classroom door open for his homeroom and turns on the lights. He realises something’s off then, because his usual spot is devoid of his desk.

Huh. It’s right in the front of class, so maybe someone came in to borrow it? Aaron sets his bag on the floor and wanders around the class. He doesn’t want to take one of his classmate’s desk, so he goes over to the next classroom, knowing their class size is smaller than his, and brings over one of their spare desks. The annoying part is that the desk obviously doesn’t blend in with the rest – the lacquered wood is paler, and the chair has a different cushion pattern.

But there’s nothing he can really do about that, so Aaron sits down and gets to work.

Tries to, any way. He reads the same paragraph at least three times, his eyes sliding over the words as he shifts in his seat. What happened to his desk, anyway? Should he look for it?

No, by tomorrow it’ll probably be back. It doesn’t matter.

Polymerization is a process of reacting monomer molecules together to form polymer chains…

Aaron sighs, and rubs his eyes. Maybe he’ll go on a little walk. Isn’t that supposed to help concentration, or whatever?

“Skipping out so early in the day?”

Aaron blinks up at Denny, who’s blocking his exit from the classroom. Around them, their classmates filter in, excitedly chattering about something. “What? It’s nine already?”

“Yeah, dude. You can’t pick up on the bell with that sonar of a forehead of yours?” Denny flicks him in the forehead to illustrate his point.

“Ow,” Aaron says, rubbing his head. He peers around Denny, catching sight of Innes, who’s got his bag hugged to his chest. “Hey, you alright?”

Innes spins, startled. “Oh, hey, Aaron.”

“Great, it’s your boring-ass boyfriend,” Denny mutters, but he doesn’t move into class. 

“Nah, I mean, I’m fine, just angry.”

“What? Why?”

“You didn’t hear?” Denny says, eyebrows shooting up on his forehead. “Man, you need to get your nose out of textbook. You’re so oblivious.”

“What happened?” Aaron asks again, used to ignoring Denny’s taunts now.

“Just homophobic dickheads being, surprise, homophobic dickheads.” The swears sound foreign in Innes’ mouth.

“Oh, that sucks. Did they do something to you?”

“Not me, thank goodness. But they’ve taken someone’s desk and fully dismantled it to spell a lovely little slur in the gardens.” 

Aaron blinks. He knows where the gardens are, but he’s never been. A lot of the students go there before school though – it’s a high traffic area.

“Dismantled…”

“Yeah,” Denny says. “They must’ve stolen a saw from the woodworking labs to do it. It’s a shoddy job, too.”

Aaron has a very bad feeling.

“Well, we should be going, so, bye, Innes,” Denny says, and then pulls Aaron inside the classroom. Aaron digs his heels in, but he’s no match for Denny, who’s like a pitbull with a bone. As they cross the threshold, everybody’s eyes snap from them to anywhere else. “What the hell? What’s that all about?”

But Denny gets his answer a moment later as Aaron shrugs off his grip and walks over to his obviously-replaced desk. Aaron picks up his bag and sets his things inside it, pointedly ignoring everyone’s unsubtle whispers.

“Aaron…” Denny says from behind him. Aaron ignores that, too, and goes back to trying to read his paragraph.

In general, polymers such as PVC are referred to as “homopolymers”...

Aaron slams his textbook shut. He crosses his arms over and hunches over his workbook, working on drawing out chemical bonds that he needs to memorise for his test. He doesn’t look up as the teacher enters, and doesn’t speak to anyone even when the bell rings again, and everyone files out of the room.

“A Boogie!” Denny calls out, but Aaron slips away before he can catch him.

~

Aaron’s things keep disappearing.

It starts with his uniform after gym, but luckily Denny had given him one set for every day of the week, so it’s not a big deal. Then it’s his workbooks, which is more problematic since Aaron’s not good at remembering stuff if he hasn’t physically written it out.

And then his entire bag disappears.

It’s after the Chemistry exam, which Aaron is pretty sure he didn’t do the best on, so he’s already in a shit mood. But, as the Chem exam was in the labs, they had to store their bags outside on hooks. His hook is empty.

Aaron stares at it for a moment, feeling a strong flash of resignation. His wallet was in his bag. He’s got the host club in ten, but he needs to find it, else it’ll be a three hour walk home.

He can’t even convince himself that someone’s taken it by accident. His backpack is the only one that’s not the school issued one.

Aaron starts with the gardens. The school is huge – too big for him to find it by just wandering around randomly. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if the culprits are there setting up their next slur – maybe they’ll go for poofter this time, always a fucking classic – especially if they get the brilliant idea to hack his bag up with a saw, but that’s a problem for later. Besides, didn’t someone tell him to stop thinking so far ahead, once?

The gardens prove moot, so he wanders back towards the school. That’s when he sees it.

In the fountain floats some splayed books, some pens, and his bag.

Aaron observes it all with a removed feeling. He’s not unaccustomed to bullies, but he didn’t think a place like this would have them. He supposes that Ouran being a rich, entitled school just means the bullies are rich and entitled too.

Aaron toes off his shoes and socks and rolls up his pant legs. He shucks his jacket carefully on the ground, not wanting it to get dirty, and steps into the fountain.

He fishes his bag and books out, though the ink has already spread like watercolour. His notes will be illegible now. He scoops out his pens which bob along the surface of the fountain water, hoping that they can be salvaged. Then he sticks his hands underneath the water and feels along the rough stone for anything else.

He really needs to find his wallet.

“Fishing for coins?”

Aaron looks up. Kevin’s strolling towards him, eyebrows furrowed. Behind him is Denny. 

“Hah. Maybe you can sniff them out for me.”

Kevin looks affronted at the joke. Aaron huffs out a laugh and goes back to his task.

“Sorry for being late to the club. I’ll probably give it a miss today, but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

“No, don’t worry about it. Um, why are you in the water?” Kevin says from the edge of the fountain. Denny stays back, arms folded. Aaron doesn’t answer for a moment, but he sees Kevin’s gaze slide across to Aaron’s things, drying on the pavement.

“Uh… I dropped my bag in the fountain. Bit of a klutz, you know?”

Kevin’s lips purse. Aaron’s not sure if Denny’s told anyone about what happened with his desk, but even on the rare chance he hasn’t, the rumour would’ve spread regardless. If there’s one thing this school runs on that isn’t money, it’s gossip.

The tips of Aaron’s ears burn. He looks away from Kevin and continues dragging his fingers through the water.

A few seconds later, he hears a small splash.

Kevin’s hopped in, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he bends over. “You gonna help?” he calls to Denny.

“You really don’t have to…”

“No way,” Denny says. He spins on his heel and marches away.

“Sorry about him,” Kevin says.

“Oh, I’m used to it by now. There’s nothing I can do to make him like me, and I don’t particularly care what others think.” Which, in an ideal world, would be true.

“It’s not that he doesn’t like you. That’s just how Denny is around new people. If he was being nice to you, that’s when you should worry.”

“Yeah, yeah. Herm already told me that he doesn’t do shit for other people without something in return.”

Kevin hums. “It’s not just that. Denny doesn’t let other people do things for him, either. It’s a sort of defence mechanism for him.”

“Right…”

“You don’t have to believe it, but it’s true. Denny’s not trying to be mean. It’s just how he tests people.”

Aaron rolls his eyes at the water. “So, is there a way to pass this test?”

“Well, I can’t give you the answer. That’s cheating, isn’t it?”

“Sounds like a copout.”

“Alright, fine.” Kevin sighs. For a few moments, all they hear is the gentle swish of their hands in the water. “Just keep being yourself.”

Aaron pauses, and gives Kevin a look. 

“I’m serious! When he’s mean, keep being mean back. You don’t need to try to butter Denny up – that’s not going to work. You’ll know when you’ve passed.”

“And that’s when…?”

“You’ll figure it out! And, look at that.” Kevin brandishes Aaron’s wallet in between two fingers. He winks. “My, my, it’s hard being so beautiful and so lucky.”

Kevin’s smile is wide, his dark cheeks shining in the afternoon glow. There’s something else there, too. A sense of relaxation, of total confidence, that is so absorbing. In this light, with that smile, Aaron can almost understand why this ridiculous club formed around him.

“Hey, you’re not falling for me, are you?”

Aaron blinks back to himself. “You wish!” He snatches his wallet out of Kevin’s hands and clambours out of the fountain.

~

The next day, Aaron doesn’t miss the school gossip.

It’d be extremely hard for him to, because even though he’s early, a huge crowd has gathered around the front of the school. Dreading the worst, Aaron pushes his way to the front.

But whatever this is, it seems entirely unrelated to Aaron.

A car has been perfectly soddered around the school’s flag post, so that the pole goes straight through the middle of the car. It’s such a masterful job that it’s hard to spot the seam from where the car was split in half and mended.

It’s a nice one, too, a deep red sports car of some model unknown to Aaron. But it looks expensive.

“Oh, wow,” a deep voice next to him says. Aaron looks to his left and is shocked to see Zane by his side, arms crossed. He’s not outright grinning, but it’s close. It’s not just the same enjoyment as their peers, but his eyes are twinkling, almost like–

“Helberg!” A furious cry cuts through the crowd. From the other side of the flag post, a lanky boy in a senior uniform stalks towards them.

“He looks pissed,” Aaron says helpfully.

“Can I help you?” Zane arches an eyebrow, impressively impassive by the boy’s spitting fury.

“Did you have something to do with this?” The senior gestures at the flagpost, as if Zane wouldn’t know what he’s talking about.

“What? Why would I organise for one of my family’s cars to be destroyed?” Aaron doesn’t miss the sarcasm dripping from his words. “Don’t you know we take very good care of our clients? Unless, of course, you can think of a reason why I wouldn’t?”

The senior’s eyes cut to Aaron. Aaron has never seen the guy before, so he’s not really sure why he’s glaring at him like that.

“I had nothing to do with that,” he hisses.

“Oh, I’m not throwing around any accusations. That would be slander, and I’m very keen to avoid any defamation suits. But I’m sure we could figure out who did do all that nasty stuff to my good friend Aaron, here, if we all take a trip to the cameras. Maybe we could even find out who did this to your car?”

Ah. Aaron’s head whips to Zane, but Zane doesn’t even acknowledge him. He just smiles coolly down at the other boy. The senior’s eyes go wild, and he splutters for a moment, body tense. Aaron’s about to drag Zane away, lest the boy lose it entirely and start swinging, but then two security guards appear, accompanied by the principal and, of all people, Denny.

“Sorry, I mispoke,” Zane says as the guards approach the senior. “You see, I already had someone take a look at the cameras, and you will not believe what was captured on it! Lots of activity by your locker, it seems. But, of course, innocent until proven guilty – who’s to say what was in those bags you were handing out?”

The guy thinks better of saying anything else, and lets himself be dragged away, already on the phone to someone, yelling about a lawyer.

The main theatrics of the morning over, the crowd begins to disperse, leaving Denny, Zane and Aaron to wander into the school together.

“Thank you,” Aaron says to Zane. “You really didn’t have to–”

“Shut up,” Denny interrupts. “You’re part of the host club. It’s what we do.” Then, he stalks off, hands in his pocket.

Zane and Aaron watch him go for a moment. 

Zane huffs out a laugh. “Classic Denny.”

Aaron turns to him, bemused. “How on earth did you convince him to help?”

Zane frowns. He shakes his head, then smiles to himself. He pats Aaron’s shoulder. “On the contrary,” he says, slipping past him to walk off to his class. “I like you, Branch, but a crime is still a crime. Denny convinced me.”

Aaron stares after Zane’s retreating form, jaw hinged open and stomach twisting in a not-entirely-unpleasant way. He turns, and catches Denny’s form at the other end of the hallway, waiting impatiently by the doorway to their homeroom.

Aaron blinks, and starts towards him. 

Denny rolls his eyes at Aaron’s slow approach. “Damn it, A Boogie, you’re not gonna convince Zane to give you more clients by making love to him in the corridors. Hurry up, would you?”

Aaron can’t help it. He laughs – loudly and fully, the kind where his shoulders shake and his stomach hurts.

He still doesn’t understand Denny at all, but he’s a scholar at heart, and he’s always been very good at figuring out complicated puzzles.