#pink is Feli's color somehow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

insomniac-arrest · 7 years ago

Text

Point A to Point B

genre: slice of life, growing up, wlw, original

words: 10k

summary: ---“I’ve seen the movies.” I say loudly, putting my hands above my head as I lay in the grass. “You’ve seen the movies,” she flops down next to me.

“I’ve heard the songs!” “You’ve heard the songs.” “Will you stop that?” “No.” “I’ve done the research!”

“You googled ‘hot tiddy’ twenty eight times a week.” “Lord save me,” I look up at the bright sky and try to ignore her, “how does someone get from point A to point B? How does anyone get a girlfriend!”----

A girl over the summer of her junior year tries to answer the age-old question that philosophers have been working on for generations: how does a girl get a girlfriend?

The Girl in the Pets World

The song ‘Your Body is a Wonderland’ by John Mayer was playing over the loudspeakers as I creep down the fish food aisle. My shoes squeak across the clean linoleum floors and the sterile blinding fluorescents blare from overhead. My hand grazes over the colorful fish food labels one at a time, blue, yellow, pink, ultra pink.

I was feeling a little like fish food myself at the at moment, small and chewed up, but maybe that was just the drama addict in me.

A little girl in blue corduroys and pink sneakers looks up at the speakers as the lyrics ‘And if you want love we'll make it, Swim in a deep sea of blankets’ plays. I hope she’s thinking about blanket forts or something when he says the last part.

I’m not, I’m looking at the front cash registers and sweating, I was never very good at keeping my body temperature at a normal person rate. I sweat in meat lockers, I sweat at hockey games, I sweat in the basement of the school during nap time when I was five. And I sweat getting in line at the Pet’s World for the cash register.

My mom said all the sweating was from my various allergies, but once I found out ‘allergic to earwax’ wasn’t a real thing I stopped taking my mom’s word on a lot of things. Though most dogs still made me sneeze, I was trying to ignore that and hope it goes away.

I held Chubs favorite TetraFin Goldfish flakes in my moist hands and look up the ceiling where two industrial fans swung round and round. Whump whump whump.

My eyes follow them lazily and hear a loud squawk from the bird section a few paces away and try not to flinch.

‘You frustrate me, I know you're mine all mine all mine, but you look so good it hurts sometimes ’

I hear the song croon on along with the whump whump whump of the industrial fans overhead.

“Next!” I try not to freeze, or swallow my tongue, or sweat through all of my clothes in 2.3 seconds like some sort of ooze monster.

I ooze forward anyway on my human slug legs and push the fish flakes across the counter, a girl with short swishing blue hair takes the item and presses it across the scanner. Her fingers were long, piano-player long, with three rings on each hand. Not enough rings to be obnoxious, but enough to knock some teeth out if she punched a man.

I’m imagining her punching a man now and I’m sweating.

“Hey,” I wipe my palms down on my jeans, trying to resist digging my teeth into my cheek.

She pushes her strands of deep blue hair back and glances up, “hey.” She presses some buttons on her register, she might as well be pressing magic buttons on a wizard wand to me.

“How are you today?” Her voice is low, deep like a purring car engine or bass guitar, formal as it was bored.

“Pretty good.” I stop myself from trying to get something more out, ‘start out small’ I remind myself.

She glances up. “Your total is $4.55.” “Oh,” I riffle around through my pockets, trying to figure out if I brought my wallet or dignity or that notebook I wrote lines down in. “Here.” I place a five down on the counter and she nods, “pretty hot out there today.” “Yeah,” I gulp and swallow thickly, “nice to be out of school.” She snorts, her round delicate features in motion for a second, “you can say that again.” She hands me back 45 cents in change and I take it with just a mild little nod. “Did you want a bag?” “Nah,” I turn around, a dime falling out of my hand as I grab for the fish flakes and go to bolt. Chubs didn’t even need any more flakes yet, I’m running anyway.

“Next!” Her voice calls out and I wonder if she knew my name. If I was just ‘some random fish flakes girl’ to her and she was Mari S. to me. Mariana Santiago, and I was dying.

I’m out the door.

--------

I’m gasping for breath and feeling my nerves jitter up and down like a jukebox. The cool shadow of the building pets my cheek and I feel like falling over.

I hear snickering off to my left, I’m almost gagging on my own tongue, “Ugh!” I rake my hands through my chin-length brown hair and spin around in circles. I’m on the side of the building now, where the large windows can’t see and only a few cars pass by, the sidewalk chafes on my naked knees as I crash down.

“Okay,” a voice calls out to me, “so I take it you proposed on one knee and she said yes.” I don’t even look up, “shut up Dana.”

I feel someone kick my ankle as I keel over dramatically (for the drama addict in me).

“She spun you around and you kissed against the sunset.” I tilt my eyes up to scowl at my best friend, Dana Kim. “Yeah. Then we made out against the doggy daycare display and the people in the fifth aisle clapped.” “Hey, I think it’d be cool to lose your v-card up against the doggy daycare sign…” Dana’s eyes mist over, “like some innocents lost imagery or some shit.” I roll over on my side and consider flopping my way over to the highway on my stomach. Girls met other girls in hospitals, right?

“How do people do this?!” I throw my hands in the air and shake my fist at God.

“You know,” Dana cracked her ankle as she took a squat next to me, “Bars, bus stops, aquariums, Christianmingle.com…” “How do gay people do this?” I correct myself, “we know that she’s gay, right? We say her tinder profile. There was a girl holding hands with girl emoji.” “Dude, her facebook page is a rainbow flag background,” Dana flicks me gently.

I blink up at her, “Maybe she just likes rainbows?” Dana rolls her eyes, “get up.” She puts her hand out toward me and I grab it, she hauls me up with an exaggerated groan. “God, the weight of your bullshit is giving me arm muscles.” “Pfft,” I punch the side of her arm once, “like you could get muscles if you wanted to.” Dana flexed her thin pale noodle arms, “I’m butch.” I pat her back sympathetically, “my brother asked me who that sad twink was the other day before I told him you just got a haircut.” Dana made an abject face at me and stuffs her glasses higher up on her nose, “Tell Robbie I’m gonna kick his fucking ass.” I laugh, “let’s go. My mom still thinks I’m applying for jobs.” “Aren’t you?” I shrug, “a type of one.” She laughs and pat me on the back again, “girls like girls with money you know” I look up at the sky and I feel my hair tickle the back of my neck, “do girls like girls?” “I’m gonna kick your ass,” she grins, “start walking hot stuff, we’ll go over where you went wrong.” I jump down from the curb and start walking toward the brown on brown suburbs in the distance, “I said ‘hey’ and followed up with a sad confused gay telepathy look.” “What did I tell you about gay telepathy?” We cross through the parking lot, “it doesn’t actually work if you aren’t already bitten by the radioactive ghost of Freddie Mercury yet.” I yank at my stray hairs and want to flop over again, “nothing works.” “Maybe asking her out works?”

“Don’t be daft,” I sniff loudly with a teasing grin and she shakes her head. We jump down from the curb and start meandering along the scruffy uneven road. I look up at the bright, cloudless pale blue sky. As blue as it got in Hobbs New Mexico.

I let out a long puff of air as I let the summer of my junior year soak into me like an old rag, I sigh, “what if I go to college without ever having kissed a girl?” Dana adjusted her glasses and stuffed her hands in her pocket, “I dunno, be like every other gay girl out there Feli? Lesbianism is like a social yield sign. Everything takes a little longer my friend.” I look over my shoulder and give a sad smile, “thanks.” Dana shrugs, “that’s for me too. It’s not like blue-haired Miss Mari is my type, but I could use a girlfriend as well. Like, yesterday.” “You’ve already had a girlfriend,” I say with a scowl, “save some for the rest of us.” “Uh,” Dana scuffs her foot on the ground, “that was at band camp, which doesn’t count, because everyone is gay there and now she lives in Massachusetts.” I wrinkle my nose, “gross.” “I know,” she nods, “and we barely held hands. She was super shy, and like, we just fumbled around that first kiss like idiots.” We start walking up a grassy hill as we approach Peach street and turn toward the dead and yellowing patches of foliage up at the top.

“Oh yeah, the first kiss you described as the ‘most magical touch of the first world order created by the heavens themselves’.” “I did not phrase it like that,” she says indignantly. “I called it the breathtaking flowering of my adolescence.” “Jesus,” I shake my head, “And then three months later at Macy’s party you said that it sucked.”

She frowns slightly and then shrugs, “that’s sometimes how it be.” She shudders, “It was just super, dry.” She wrinkles her nose, “and light.” I groan and flop down next to Our Spot, the place next to the rusted broken down truck that somehow got on Deadman’s Hill and never left. “I can’t believe even you can’t get a good gf in this economy.” “Even me?” She grins, “I’ll take that as a compliment,.”

“Dan,” I say slowly, “I don’t know where I’m going wrong.” “Well, let’s start,” she takes a deep breath in but I stop her.

“I’ve seen the movies.” “Okay, you’ve seen the movies,” she flops down next to me.

“I’ve heard the songs.” “You’ve heard the songs.” “Will you stop that?” “No.” “I’ve done the research!”

“You googled ‘hot tiddy’ twenty eight times a week.” “Lord save me,” I look up at the bright sky and try to ignore her, “how does a girl get from point A to point B? How does anyone get a girlfriend.” We both glance over at each other, a heart beat passing between us like a whispered curse word. She moves her shoulders up and down loosely, “hell if I know.” We go back to look up at the limpid blue sky.

-----------

“Did you find work?” My mom was rearranging her herbs cabinet.

I lean on the doorframe and watch her frizzy brown hair get caught in her shirt collar, “getting there.” I say slowly. “I’m thinking Barnes and Nobles.” She glances up slightly and puts her oregano next to her sage grass, “your aunt messaged me last week that leo’s were going to have a month of wealth.” It was probably too bad in my mom’s universe that I never felt like a leo, “sure, send aunt Maude my love.” I say flatly and drum my hands on the countertop.

“And to watch out for bad smells!” My mom hoots, “that’s why I’m making sure our spices are in order.” “Good mom.” I turn toward the door, thinking better about having come in there in the first place. “Tell your brother to turn his video game down too, you know how I hate those gun noises,” she moves the sage grass next to the mint leaves.

“I will,” I sigh heavily, “and mom,” I glance at her, she manages to crane her neck over as she messes with her stray hair caught in her collar. I sigh again, “Nevermind.” “Have you fed your fish?” I nod, “Chubs is… good.” She nods, “that fish is lucky, you know he is. I got him from Todd.” Todd was our previous next door neighbor who sold weed to my mom (for medicinal reasons, naturally), he gave his betta fish to us before he left. He had two, the other one's name was Ganja.

I crossed my fingers, “I’ve been feeling luckier already.” “And take your cloves!” She says hotly, “I’ve seen you buying more kleenexes.” I roll my eyes and turn toward the basement, “I know mom!”

I haven’t taken my cloves in months, but I had started eating gluten against in April and felt better than ever, so there was that. Gluten, of course, was one of my many allergies on my moms ‘Felicity List.’

I hated her Felicity List.

I end up going down the next hallway, completely failing in asking my mom the one question I wanted to know: how did you meet dad. How did he meet you- and then how does anyone meet girls? How do you do love without a proper script for it.

I end up just knocking on my brother’s door, “turn it down!” I holler, “your call of duty is making mom’s aura black or whatever.” “Fuck off, dump-truck.” I scoff to myself, my brother was at the age where he discovered that he had something to say, and it suddenly didn’t have to be good things. Or even decent things.

“Robbie, Dana says she’s gonna kick your ass and I’m tempted to let her.” I just hear a series of yelling and gunshots on the other side, “wear headphones you brat!”

“Like I have to listen to someone who leaves their bloody panties o-” “I’m coming on in!” I rattle the door. “And I’m telling mom if your essential oils are in the trash again.”

“Fine, fine!” He says shrilly, “I’m putting headphones in.” He mumbles something rude after that but I just shake my head and move on, I had a game plan to continue to make.

I knock before entering the basement and coming down the stairs two at a time, “that was a bust!”

Dana was sitting in our beanbag chair looking at her phone, “I suppose ‘I told you so’ wouldn’t help?” “You haven’t told me anything in the eleven years we have known each other,” I wag a finger at her and she sticks out her bottom lip.

“How’s the moodboard of love going?” She jutts her chin out toward my open notebook, I blow air out of my nose. “It’s mood is ‘bored’.”

“Ooh, good wordplay.” “Ugh.” I turn over to flop into my own bean bag chair next to hers. “Love is fake and being gay is…” I frown, “hard.” “Haven’t you heard? The het-ys will also say being straight is hard too.” She doesn’t look up from her phone.

I cover my eyes with my hands, “any insta news?” “Mari hasn’t posted anything since the 911 post about her finding a new top from that consignment store,” Dana nudges me with her foot, “but Paula from phys ed is starting a girls rugby team and posting about it, and it’s,” she lifts her eyebrows, “kinda hot.”

I sit up straight, “is she…?” “Still dating Patrick Ludwig or whatever, but my point still stands.” I tutt and click my tongue, “a good one fallen.” Dana laughs and a turn over on my stomach, “what’s the other game plan?” Dana puts her legs in the air, “research.” She winks, “there’s this episode on Netflix that’s supposed to be hot.” “That we haven’t-” “That we haven’t seen.” I put my finger in the air, “play it then!”

“Say no more.”

We turn on ‘Vegan Cinderella’ about two girls and no story plot.

Of course, the two leads get in one glance at each other and then get together. No one ever really tells you how you skip from noticing each other to straight up crawling all over one another. There is no in between.

I try to take notes.

------

It was a lazy summer, a bright one, slow, there were a lot of things I was trying to piece together and tear apart again. Mainly, why I was in Pet’s World, standing in the fish food aisle. It was like reliving a bad dream I kept having.

They were playing ‘Call me Maybe’ like some sort of summer throwback to two years ago and I was feeling resentful.

I had Dana in my ear, I clear my throat and whisper, “okay, repeat to me again what you want me to say.” Dana clears her throat, “well hey there sugar lips-” “Nope.” She lowers her voice, “Why don’t you bring some candy over to daddy.” “So unhelpful.” “That’s what I said my first time,” she said from outside, I could almost see her smirking at me from there.

“You did not,” I say indignantly, “you gestured and stuttered and maybe flashed her once, that’s the true story.” “You’re right. Please flash Mari S for me, like full on vag and/or areola.”

“I hate you.” “Muah,” she blows a kiss my way and I shake my head.

“This is why we aren’t dating.” “Gross. I’ve known you too long for that, that’s like kissing your cousin.” “Also gross.” “You need to fly little bird!” Dana yells into the speaker, “spread your wings and take your clothes off in a public Pet’s World. Full areola. Maybe a little ass, all of your thighs.” “I’m just going to ask her if they have any job applications.” “Boooo-” I hang up on her.

My breaths come out harsh and uneven, I prop myself up anyway and ignore the hamsters in the next aisle giving me the side eye from their cages. I had a girl to figure out how to date.

I walk up to the cash register, it was eleven in the morning so the store was particularly empty and I was feeling particularly bold after chugging one and a half Dr. Pepppers. I wasn’t allowed sugar or caffeine as a child so it tended to have a more profound effect.

Mari seemed to be glancing down at what I assumed was her phone, I was looking out at nothing as my eyes unfocused in a sort of last resort defense mechanism. I force myself to plant my feet in front of her cash register.

It takes her a moment to look up and it takes me a longer, much more uncomfortable moment to say anything. She was looking at my empty item-less hands.

“Do you like working here?” I ask in a monotone. A beat passes where her painted eyebrow arches, I fumble the ball in midair. “I mean, I’m looking for a job is all.” ‘Is all’ is still a cute phrase, right?

Mari leaned down over the counter and stuck her tongue out slightly, “honestly? Love the animals, but customer service will fucking drag your soul out through your ass.” I gulp, “so I’ve heard.” I rack my head for sentences, or words, or singular intelligent sounds. My phone buzzes as Dana must be watching me from the outside. I wipe my hands down, “but the animals, right? Sounds fun.” I offer weakly.

Mari gives a half-smile, “it’s pretty chill, I get 20% off dog food, so I guess it almost works.” I grin, “what kind of dog do you have?” Mari raises her eyebrows even further, “a lab.”

“Cool!”

Another beat drops and the silence drags on a little bit as I try to come up with something like a sleeveless magician. Mari taps her nails down and tilts her head to the side, “his name is Bruce Lee, like the actor since my mom was super into martial arts after she got freaked at a store robbery. It wasn’t even her store.” I take a deep breath in and my heart sort of soars, “that’s cool. Bruce Lee? I love dogs.” Was this working? It felt like it was working. “Yeah,” Mari gives a half-smile, “they’re the reason I work here at all.” She shakes her head, “honestly, I could just leave the people out altogether.” I laugh and it almost doesn’t turn into a snort, “tell me about.” Mari grins again and looks me up and down, I almost explode. “Did you need that job ap?” I shrug, “I’m still deciding.” Hard to get, hard to get.

“Well,” she huffs and looks up at the ceiling, “it might be nice to have someone who isn’t obsessed with the bachelor to work here.” I could have bounced on the soles of my feet, “you got me pegged. I don’t even like roses.” I was supposedly allergic to them. She just clicks her tongue with a slight laugh and takes something out, “go for it then.” She hands me the job application. I nod and run out of words in my word orchid to grab from, I take the piece of paper and turn around instead. “Thanks then.

“Sure.”

My eyes dart back and forth and then I bite my lip, turning slightly, “See you then.” “Definitely,” she waves, I wonder if this is flirting.

I practically run back outside as I try to chew on what this all means, my shoes skid across the exit like they’re going to burn up and a run around the corner of the building to bend down and tear at my hair. “Mppmph!” I squat down on the ground where no one can see me. “Mmmph!” I hear someone skipping up from the left.

“How was it? How’d it go?” Dana circles around me enthusiastically as she approaches, “did you do the dog-sign-virginity thing?” I throw my hands in the air and make another strangled sound, “mmph!”

“And she’s a winner!” Dana goes to high-five me and then ends up laughing. “I can’t believe you done it. Or something I take it.”

“Ah!” I let out something that was almost a whoop, “she said ‘definitely!’” I turn around in circles, “she thinks it’d be cool if I worked there!”

“You’re going to get married,” Dana clapped her hands and I ignore her.

I almost fall down on the pavement right there, “to Deadman’s truck!” I point to our hill, “we have to tell me how I to actually get a job.”

Dana laughs and then covers her mouth, “I can’t believe you wouldn’t get a job to help me buy a car together, but oh, Mari Santiago is hot enough for it.” “So hot!”

“Let’s go then,” she pushes me back to my feet, “play by play girl, play by play.”

I’m walking around in circles, “she has a dog!”

“No duh.” “He does martial arts!”

“Slow down there.” We walk to our hill and I can’t stop talking, one step at a time, one little step at a time.

-------

I didn’t know what to do with Mariana Santiago. She was there, toned and surly and goth gf material one moment, and then super surly and unreadable the next.

I really did need fish flakes for Chubs the next day (my brother tipped over a whole bottle of it the night before) and Mari doesn’t even look at me as I walk by. She’s outside leaning on the wall. It seemed to be her break, she was holding a cigarette and inhaling deeply, I hold my breath.

“Hey,” I don’t know what to do with my hands at that moment, or what I’m doing at all.

She barely looks up, “oh hey.” She looks back down at her phone.

“I applied for the job.” She takes a look time to respond, “good.” She takes a drag, “Brian has been complaining like one of the broken parrots about being short-staffed.” I bite my lip, “think I’ll get it then?” Her eyes flick up and down, I wish I wasn’t wearing my loose Bob Ross tank top that day, “you’re breathing, aren’t you?” I shrink a little at that but try to grin, “last time I checked.” She shrugs, no laugh, “You’ll do fine.”

I wait for something more, but Mari looked like she was several miles away and not at all walking. I start to turn away, “well… bye. See you in the store, maybe.” She waves with her lit hand and then is typing something, “break a leg.” Point A to Point B was a confusing little road that went up back and around, Mari Santiago, queen of the goths, apparently had a lot of detours.

-----------

Day One: Two Words

Our shifts don’t line up the first day, I accidentally ring something up three times and get softly chewed out by an old lady.

My hair is a mess, I sneeze five times when an extra hairy mop-dog walks in. I try to discreetly take a white allergy pill I got from a friend while a teen boy with a sweater vest judges me. I drop an entire bag of seeds I was scanning, but luckily it doesn’t break open.

I stutter, a lot. And my perspirant only lasts for half the day before my sweating is back, but of course, I do see her at the end.

She comes in, shaking her chin-length wavy blue hair and her black boots clunking on the employee room floor. I barely have time to look up. “You survive?” She asks dryly with her lips twitching. I could have whimpered.

It was one of her smiley days, where her dimples almost appeared, I end up just nodding mutely before shrugging my bag on my shoulder and turning.

I remember to skedaddle on out of there, I needed to play hard to get, I needed to mostly fix my hair and change my shirt.

-----------

Day Two: 13 Words

We discuss the fact, again, that Mari’s boss loves the bachelor, and she hates it. “It’s the worst thing to happen to love since the Twilight series.” I don’t really know what to say to that, so I try to channel my inner Dana, “hets, amiright?” I don’t mention my brief Twilight phase.

Her eyelids are blue that day, iridescent blue to match her bangs. “Okay?” I’m not sure she understood what I meant, it’s then rush-time on Saturday with puppy training hour going on in the back of the store. I get slobbered on and ask to change registers when my eyes get as red as a fire hydrant.

I didn’t mention on my resume that I had any allergies, mostly because I was hoping all of them were fake instead of just most of them. My mom picks me up that day and I don’t let Mari see me sneak into her car with my nose leaking like a faucet.

--------------

Day three: five sentences

My feet hurt, my head hurts, my back hurt, but mostly my feet hurt.

Eight hours, eight hours of standing and staring and I finally understood the phrase ‘counting down the seconds.’ Sure, something like social studies class was bad, but that was just fifty minutes.

This was four hours straight with a couple breaks thrown in, I think I might start to lose my mind by closing time that night. The store was dead quiet, the shadows growing on the walls and the pain growing in the soles of my feet, I always did have weak ankles.

I shift from side to side, rueing my ungrateful body and counting the number of squawks were coming from the bird section. Mari was standing a few registers away, but she hadn’t said anything that night, I hadn’t been feeling ‘me’ enough to start anything yet.

But I hear something, “hey.” I turn jerkily at her voice, my eyes going wide, “hey.” I barely look at her.

“How you holding up?”

I chew on something for a long minute before catching her eye, “my feet hurt like I stepped on a series of legos at a gynos office.” She laughed, a real life where her teeth showed in a goofy way, “oh man, definitely.” I grin, “I think they may soon fall off.” She shakes her head, she taps on her own converse, “insoles.” She says, “insolves my friend.” I nod with my face going a little hot, “are those new shoes?” Her dimples show a little bit, “nah, but,” she bounces her eyebrows up and down, “I did just spray paint them..”

I told her about my feet and it’s the longest conversation we ever had.

----------------

It was 11am on a Saturday and I was lying on bed going through my nail polish, I owned three, and one of them was sealed shut. I feel someone throwing a kleenex in my direction.

“Okay,” Dana calls over, “but tell me if she really has a soul jar in her room of the spirits of our classmates she’s cursed.” I roll my eyes at Dana as she swirls around in my my black office chair I got from a yard sale. I push my glitter blue nail polish away, “She’s not like that.” “At least confirm to me that she’s a wiccan, like, I’m 69% sure she is since she keeps posting hand-drawn summoning circles on instagram,” she hums, “but you never know these days.” “We haven’t got there yet,” I pause as I try to recollect all the details I had gathered from work, the recon mission of a life so far. “She spray-painted her converse recently.” Dana spun another two times in a circle, “black or purple?” “Black, also,” I go to swat at her, “get that look off your face.” Dana kept going, only pausing to poke my with her sock, “what face?” She kept holding her mouth like it had a crooked secret.

“The judgy face,” I wrinkle my nose, “I know she’s not your type.” She puts a hand over her heart, “when have I ever judged anyone? Ever?” I get up from the bed and start to walk over, “When have you have ever judged anyone?” I put my hands on my hips. “Strike you down now?”

Dana puts another hand up, like a girl scout taking a pledge, “strike me down now.” I grin and take another step forward, “and the Lord has spoken!” I flop down on her lap forcefully and spread my limbs out. “Oof,” Dana pretend gags as I sit on top of her.

Dana tries to push me off, “you are waaaay too bony for this Feli,” she tries to grab me around the waist and I flail my arms around with a laugh, she dodges my elbow. “You’re gonna take my eye out!”

“Oh, and she never judges,” I poke her and sit more firmly down, “she takes her punishment like a saint.” “Sainthood is a given,” she makes a stoic face and I laugh. “You may strike me down,” she starts spinning, “but can you hold on?” She pushes off the wall and the chair wobbles. “Dammit, Dan!” I grab the chair’s arms and we start going around and around in rapid circles. “I’m allergic to motion!”

“I know! Along with oats and milk and glutton and dogs and earwax, woo!”

I start to jab her with my elbows and we’re cackling and probably disturbing the neighbors when my phone buzzes, an actual buzz that almost made me jump out of my skin.

“Woah!” I fall halfway out of Dana’s lap as she slows to a halt.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I hold a hand over my mouth, “motion sickness?” “Look at that!”

I go to read the notification and my eyes go huge. I had a new follower on my instagram. “No.” My mouth falls open, “no!” “Someone’s on the smash-cash train, beep beep,” she makes a train noise and a scramble over to the discarded iphone 6.

“What does this mean?!” I look at the fact that ‘shoelaceslace’ had followed me back on instagram. My mouth was still open, “what does this mean?!” I feel someone push on my shoulder roughly, “it means your on course for SS Macktown, occupation goth lipstick stains, hot damn!” “Shut up,” I push on her back, “never speak again. I’m having a crisis.” “Lactose crisis level or like, still failing social studies crisis?” I start gnawing on my bottom lip and then a flop down on the bed, “does she like me?” “Does she not like you?” I kick my legs up and down and then roll back and forth on the bed, “well she doesn’t hate me!”

Dana laughs and calls me an idiot, “nobody’s gonna dislike you. You’re like, only 2/3s dislikable at any given moment.” “Dan,” I say shrilly, “I need to post something cute.” “Post about your favorite punk band.” “Something cuter.” “Post about your huuuuge crush, the one who works at a pets store and likes MCR.” I throw her a pointed look, “what?” She pushes her bangs back, “it’s the direct route!” I sigh, loudly. I was good at the dramatic. “Fine.” I try to find the best picture of me from my trip to Albuque, “point B here I come!”

“You’re gonna message her?” I throw her a blank look, “no.” I say shrewdly, “I’m gonna very very slowly crawl into a date through my picture of me holding a butterfly in a pavilion.” “Boo.” I try to mentally get on that train again.

-------

Sunlight hit the back of my neck and I felt a sizzling under my skin, my work bag hangs over my shoulder with my cellphone, lunch, and water bottle. I tap my foot angrily on the carpet and my mom looks me over.

I was standing outside my kitchen with my arms crossed over my chest, my left eyebrow was twitching and the floor smells like mildew and peppermint. “I have to.” My mom’s back was turned to me and I could hear the noise of my brother’s gun game from a room over, a distant ‘pew pew’ that was even starting to grate on my nerves.

My mom started to pick up a scented rag, “and what?” She frowns at me over her shoulder, “what am I going to do with all that wasted time?” I roll my eyes, “I never said I was actually going to the spiritualist. It’s a Sunday! I have work.”

“Felicity Laura Munez it is already booked.” She was balling up the rag in her hand. “I never said I would go!” My mom slits her eyes at me and I wouldn’t be surprised if she started hissing to ward off the negative energy around us. “Sometimes it feels like you just aren’t trying.” She says it lowly, it was worse than a hiss.

“At what?” I say dryly, not meeting her eye.

She puts her palms up, “at our relationship! I asked you to reschedule for this last week.” “For the last time,” I stomp my foot, “I’m not sick, I don’t want to go to this spiritualist.”

My mom puts a hand through her wild gray-brown hair, “then what about all the lethargy? You almost flunked freshman year, and you know you were eating so much bread that year.” I rolls my eyes, “I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

My mom put her hand out, “it’s just for an hour-” “You wanted me to get a job,” I hitch my bag up on my shoulder and feel a little cool. “I’m going to go to my job.”

“Felicity!”

I turn hotly on heels and scurry out before I lose my nerve or let my mom finish her next sentence about considering all the mood swings I had from last year. It had to be that red meat I ate, didn’t it?

I’m still scowling and red in the face by the time I walk to the Pet’s World, my head is spinning and I can feel my insides prickling. “She always has to insert herself, always has to make a thing out of everything,” I start muttering to myself as I made my way into the back of the store.

I had the same shift as Mari that day and she seems to see me coming in, my phone is buzzing.

“No mom,” I picked it up furiously and start speaking, “I don’t want to do this right now, just go by yourself, that’s what you usually do.” She lets out another string of words about meridians and not doing crew for the school play this year if I don’t get myself together before then, I end up hanging up. I angrily punch in just as another pair of shoes come up next to me. They were spray painted black.

“Hey,” I jump, realizing that Mari is standing right next to me. She looks me over steadily, “you good?” She points to the phone I am almost crushing in my fingers. I nod slowly, “my mom’s just being… out there.” She snorts, “I can tell.” She puts her hand out and my skin tingles as she brushes my elbow. “Need to blow off steam?” She offers slowly, “I’m going to go to this place after work with some friends.” “Oh,” my eyes go wide, “Oh!”

I suddenly had a lot to thank my mom for, and yet nothing at all.

Mari nods, “I get it.” She sniffs, “My mom pisses me off all the time, plus,” she grins. “I saw you like PBR.” I remember the joke post I made a year ago of a beer can.

I nod again.

-----------

I had two hours between when my shift ended and when I was supposed to be over at Mari’s, my heart was still racing. “Dana!” I called out from my closet, “tell me what to wear again.” “Nothing.” “No, the other thing.” “Hello Mr. President outfit.” She wasn’t looking up as she seemed to be trying to send twelve text messages all at once. I was on crew, and Dana apparently needed to update everyone on the theatre group chat about me. And my new love life.

“Uuugh,” I start to groan, “I need to look cool. Actually cool.”

Dana throws me a thumbs up, “you’re getting there.” I groan again and walk around in circles, “Okay,” I take a deep breath and gesture down, “black jeans.”

“Check,” Dana was nodding languidly as she typed.

“Blue ripped t-shirt.” “Sure?” “Just sure?” I almost tear the rest of the shirt off.

Dana jammed her phone in her back pocket and walked over, “your gonna do fine Feli,” she straightens her overly large sweater, “this is obvs going somewhere.” I cover my eyes, “straight to hell.” “Only if you sweet talk her just right!” She cheers and I walk around in another circle.

“I’m not cool,” I groan, “not like her. This can’t work.” Dana rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, “I think you’re cool.” I pause and glance over to her, “really?” I adjust the straps on my shirt.

“Well,” she scratches her neck, “Okay, technically I think being cool is overrated. But we’ll stick with the first version if that’s what’ll make you feel better.” “Oh-ho-ho,” I whimper and go drag myself to my bed. “This is why being gay is so hard. Only one in five of us is at all cool.” Dana shakes her head, “being gay makes you cool!” I frown at her deeply, “gimme some examples for me though. Do I even have funny stories?” Dana Kim stroked her chin thoughtfully before putting her hands in the air, “you refused to get into my grannie’s pool for the first five years I knew you because you said you were allergic to chlorine.” “Yes. Hilarious.” “And when you finally went in you did a cannonball! And threw up chips into the pool noodle, that was great.” I almost flip her off, “So I’m retiring at the ripe old age of 17. From life.” “Don’t be melodramatic,” she comes over next to me, “I thought it was a hilarious. We were super buddy best friends after that.” I let out a deep breath and glance over at her, “you think the word ‘weiner-dong’ shouted out in math class is funny.” She snickers, “I do.” I go to grab for my coat, “Mari doesn’t. She barely thought Finding Nemo was funny when we watched it in IB Spanish last year.” “That’s because she’s laaaaaa-” “Don’t say it.” Dana blows air out of her nose, “I know we, the gays, don’t have a lot of options-” “Don’t say it.” “But just be yourself Feli,” We both sit up and she puts her head on my shoulder, “it won’t be worth it if you aren’t.” I look up at the lazily spinning ceiling phone and go to grab my phone, “I’m wearing my combat boots.” Dana just snorts.

-------------

So I was at a party. A real party, a party party, with music and people and drinks with words I couldn’t pronounce on them. And I was suddenly very very aware I was alone there.

There was a thumping bass coming in through the floorboards and a whole slew of people I didn’t know standing on either side of me. The house was a rundown place I had to take the bus to from Wadsworth street and apparently owned by someone’s older brother.

There weren’t that many people there yet, but I was too busy counting the carpet hairs to really appreciate that. Dana had waved goodbye to me at the bus, wishing me all the luck in the world and seeing me off. I suddenly desperately wanted to hide behind her as she blew a raspberry to ‘lighten the mood’ at rundown parties like this.

I stare at my shoelaces again.

“Hey,” I hear a voice call, “hey, Felicity.” I feel the ice in my gut melt and I see Mari waving at me from an armchair across the room, thank God. I had been let in earlier with a couple people, but they said they didn’t know where Mari was, I creep over slowly.

“Hey there,” I put on a small smile, “thought I came to the wrong place.” She just shakes her head, she’s looking dimply and light for that night. “Nah,” she brushes her hair aside, “this is Jason’s place, he says we can hang here whenever.” “Nice,” I try to seem smooth and take a seat on the couch next to her. I search the air for a moment, “I’m glad we can hang outside of work. Less people asking me where flea collars are here.”

Mari gives an unknowable smile, she nods. “Have a drink.” She hands me an open beer and I try not to make a face at it. “You seem cool,” my heart soars as she hands it over, “better than anyone else Pet’s World at least.” I exhale and stifle my red face by throwing back the beer, it tastes like warm dirt. I shrug when I look back up, “A job is a job.” “Oh my God, yeah,” she rubs her nose, “my mom went on and on about how I had to do something this summer, like, come on. She’s lucky I don’t just drop out of school itself already.” “Right?” I try to sound sympathetic, the silver bracelets clang on Mari’s wrist, I can’t stop watching her mouth move. “One more year though.” I do a cheers with her with her our open cans.

Mari clinks with mine, “I hope.” She shakes her head, “I would just run away with my dog if I could.” I sit up straight and smile, “Bruce Lee?” I offer shyly, “where would you take him?” “Anywhere,” she wrinkled her nose, “dogs are better than people, I could take him anywhere and be alone and it would be better.” “Yeah,” I nod, but I’m shifting back and forth in place. I didn’t know what to ask her, did she like theatre? Did she like Skyrim? Books about outer space? She didn’t like people apparently.

“What about you,” she turns to me slowly, “where would you go?” I search my head, “New York?” That sounded neutral.

Mari takes another sip of her drink, “right on.” She nods, “what’s there?” I put my head on my shoulder and try to look nonchalant, “broadway and less hay fever.” I joke.

Mari lifts her eyebrows, “I’ve been meaning to ask about that,” she looks me over, “is that what all the sniffling was about?” I freeze, she had noticed.

I gulp dryly, “grass seeds here,” I gesture around in the air, “it totally fucking sucks at work.” She eyes me, “I bet.” My skin crawls and I wished I could bring up something we both liked, something that wasn’t hay fever. “My mom is totally lame about it though.” Mari’s eyes focus on me.

“What, she tell you it’s all in your head?” Mari’s lips were curling up, I had a feeling there was a story though.

“No, she makes me take like, fifteen supplements a day, and most of them aren’t even FDA approved,” I feel the rant start bubbling up out of me, “and I swear, one of them gave me awful cramps for a week.” “Supplements?” She looks me over curiously and I wish I hadn’t mentioned cramps.

I shift on the lumpy couch, “like, uh, cloves and herbs. It’s hippie-” “Oh man, I wish my mom bought me more herbs. I have to do all my wicca shopping offline, and that was before she took away my credit card.” My heart sank, something was feeling off in my gut, I take another huge sip of my bear and try to disappear into the heavy beat of the bass.

I wasn’t feeling very cool.

---------------

“Because he’s a jolly good fellow, because he’s a jolly good fellow, oh!” I was clapping my hands and singing along with everyone else, my head was fuzzy. There was something stuck on my jeans but I hadn’t bothered to take it off yet.

Someone was whooping and there was a bottle on a table, I felt like I was in some 80s movie where the cheesy pop ballad was playing that showed I was having ‘fun.’ I wasn’t sure what I was having, but I hadn’t thought about what I was saying for at least an hour now.

“Woo, good song mate.” Someone clapped the person who’s turn it just was, having been tasked to sing any song he liked for two minutes straight. He gave them a thumbs up after his very drawn-out birthday song.

There were cards spread out on the table and I was leaning Mari’s shoulder as my thoughts spun round and round. She was texting on her phone and someone was pointing.

“Mari’s turn, Mari’s turn!”

“I’m busy.” She waves her hand in the hair and I’m giggling into nothing.

“We should get a dog… and put it in a hat,” I’m mumbling, which I’m grateful for when I remember this moment hours later.

“Have her do it then,” someone jostled my shoulder. “You’re Mari’s friend, right?” I just nod unthinkingly, it was nice not to think. “I’m Feli-Felicity.” “Spin the bottle girl!” Someone puts my hand on a large brown bottle and I look around to everyone.

“As long as I don’t get the joker,” we were playing ‘cards spin the bottle,’ whatever card the bottle landed on you have to do. Ace was chug a bear, king was kiss someone, queen was order someone else around for the night (if they got a 2). Joker was act an embarrassing moment from your life.

I give the brown bottle a mighty spin. Someone whispered from beside me, “Get this kid some water.” Someone hands me a water, which I chug as we all watch the head of the bottle go around and around. I watch it steadily as I try to catch Mari’s eye again, she isn’t looking up.

“There it goes!” My eyes snap back into focus and the lip of the bottle slows one inch at a time, my eyes go wide, it hovers to a dead stop.

Someone claps me on the shoulder, “Woo! That’s the seven.” I lick my lips again, “what’s the seven again?” I look both directions, someone snickers.

“That’s seven minutes in heaven sweetie.”

My eyes go a little wide, “oh.” “Mari,” one of the older boys slaps Mari’s back, “Mari, take your little gayling to the closet.”

“What?” She blinks up, her pretty brown eyes framed by purple eyeshadow that day. Someone points down to the bottle and she makes a slight face, she glances back to me and I feel myself go pale.

She observes me for a moment and then takes my arm, “I guess I’m the chosen one.” She smiles a little bit and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

I stumble up and try to follow her to where someone was holding open a closet door and people were making woof whistles.

“Seven minutes,” someone cheered and held up their phone watch. I’m not looking at them, I’m looking at the back of Mari Santiago’s neck where her little dark neck hairs mixed with the blue ones.

I shiver, “you don’t have to-” The closet door swings shut just behind us and I try to find myself among the mess of impulses and sudden realizations. Is this how you get from point A to point B? Is this how you get a girl.

We both sit down at once and I open and close my mouth a for a second, “you don’t have to do anything.” I say wetly as I swallow.

Her eyes shine a little in the dark. “Duh.” She takes out her phone again, she’s not looking at me.

I struggle for something, for something. “You go to the play last year?” I almost want to bring up that the light effects were all me.

She just shakes her head, “nah.” My stomach sinks and I realize something that I didn’t want to say. I look down at my hands and flex my fingers back and forth.

Mari blows air of her mouth and I look up, “but, look.” “What?” I say too loudly for the cramped space.

“You’re actually pretty cute.” My mouth is open, but nothing comes out, she leans forward and flicks the hair off her forehead, “the crush is kinda cute.” I hold my breath for a long second and before I can protest that it I hoped I wasn’t too obvious, it all gets cut off. “Let’s play, they all want us to.”

She reaches over and I feel a soft press of lips against lips, an electric feel of a kiss in the dark, at a party with something buzzing through my system. I close my eyes and wait.

And wait.

Something swirls and chugs and sinks in me like the titanic, my face falls and the rest of me crumples from the inside out. I had done everything right, I had got the job, I had done the lines, I had gone to the party.

I went to the closet.

If I was with Dana I would make a joke that it was pretty ironica I was having my first gay kiss in a closet, but she wasn’t here. Instead, I had a grey empty feeling in the depths of my gut sinking in, no fireworks, no world-shattering touch.

Just, wet lips, cracked skin, the taste of mushy cigarettes and bad perfume. I try to lean into and tell myself this is what I wanted. But she tasted like smoke and something bitter.

I close my eyes and kiss a little harder, waiting, waiting, for it. I push her toward the wall and try again.

And then I hear a timer outside, “that’s it!” Someone calls, “come out love birds.” I look down at my hands again and Mari laughs, “woo,” she wipes her lips, “you’re kinda fierce,” she laughs again and I realize it’s because I pushed her back.

My first kiss was in a closet at someone’s house I didn’t know in a closet with a girl I had very very little in common with.

We crawl out of the closet and people laugh as I rub my eyes in the new light and Mari wipes her mouth. “Well that was something.” I start to stumble as I reach for my phone, “hey,” I wave, “I totally didn’t notice it was almost two.” Mari lifted her eyebrows, “was I that bad?” I laugh, “no.” I try to grin, “you were great.” I wink and she seems to preen at that, though I didn’t know how to tell her like it was nothing like I wanted. “But I think it sobered me up enough to realize that I’m super late.” “Well,” she turns around, “do you what you need to do.” I take some heavy steps to the door, “yeah… I’ll have to see at work.” My eyes are unfocused.

She’s shrugging and picking up her drink again, “see you around.” I nod and purse my lips as I fumble for my jacket and someone hands me a water bottle as I head for the door. In retrospect I wonder why no one called me an uber or asked if I’d be alright, I start walking home alone.

------------

I’m sitting on a hill, the scratchy yellow grass under my ass and the faintest hint of the sun on the horizon, just a little golden light kissing the lip of the earth in the distance. I have two discarded water bottles next to me and I am staring blurrily out into the cityscape.

A clunky little yellow car passes in the distance and I wipe at my eyes again. The breeze felt barely there that day and something aches all over, especially in my chest.

I probably shouldn’t have walked home for an hour and a half, I probably shouldn’t have gone to sit on this hill, I probably shouldn’t have let my phone die after sending just one text. Another black car passes in the distance and hear the squeak of tires.

I lay my head on my arms and feel a dull pounding in the back of my skull, it was just one of those days. I feel my eyes droop down and only pause when I hear more soft footsteps.

“Feli?” I don’t react, I just clutch my dead phone in my hands a little harder. Dana wheels her bike up behind me and places it in the grass next to us.

“That bad, huh?”

I glance up ever so slightly, she was still wearing her striped pajama pants and a sweater from the college her sister when to, plus an ancient dodgers baseball cap. I slump to the side and put an arm over my eyes.

“I guess we’re even,” I say hoarsely, my voice feeling raw and delicate. “What’s that,” she nudges me with her foot.

“Now both of our first kisses sucked.” “Lord Feli,” she reaches down for me, “you look like a mess, up you go.” I groan at the hand placed in front of my face, “I’m still not feeling so hot.” “I know, I brought you water, an aspirin, and mouthwash.” That gets me slowly teetering to my feet. “Sometimes you are a good friend.” “Always!” She defends with slight laugh, “plus I want the juicy trainwreck details.” “It wasn’t a trainwreck,” I take the aspirin from her and chug it down. She grumbles something about ‘getting drunk for the first time without her.’ “It was…” I fade off and sigh heavily instead.

“Come on,” she takes my arm, “let’s get in the back of Deadman’s dead truck.” I stop in place and try to take the mouthwash from her instead, “I thought we both agreed that thing was haunted.” Dana adjusts her backward baseball cap, “then let’s go make friends with a ghost. It’s a night for firsts.” “Day,” I correct and start swishing around mouthwash for a minute.

Dana messages her temples, “in the truck. In the truck.” She chants and I make an exaggerated slumping motion before following her to the back of the once blue vehicle.

We climb into the truck bed and the thing creaks and heaves at us as we settle in among the vines and rust that decorated the inside. I wipe my hands down when we end leaning on the sides and staring at each other.

“It’s private now,” She leans forward, “tell me what’s up.”

I look off to the side, letting my headache pound softly and my heart sink. “There’s like four gay girls at our school.” “I guess,” she says slowly, “I’m still waiting one like, five of them to come out. You’ve seen the way Patsy looks at me.” “No, I mean,” I push my bangs back, “there’s only like five percent of the whole entire population that’s girls that like girls.” I frown deeply, “and how many of those are we actually compatible with? That actually live near us?” I feel my eyes welling up.

Dana reaches over, she takes my hand and squeezes it firmly, “Come on Fel,” she says softly, “look at it positively, I know you’re a romantic deep down, I’ve read your blog.” I feel the water started leaking out, I wipe at it angrily, “I’m just saying!” I rub my eyes down ruthlessly, “the odds aren’t even in our favor.” Dana’s face squished up into something indescribable, “I don’t think it’s good to think about.”

“I am thinking about it!” I mope back, “I’m thinking about how much I thought I liked Mariana Santiago and the fact that she’s just like… a super different person than me.” “What did you expect?” “Daaaaan,” I whine, “not helping.” She scoots closer to me and weaves our fingers together, “maybe that’s just how it is, maybe it’ll just be a little hard for us.” She holds my hand tightly, “but it’s not like it’s over. It’s not like… we can’t try again. That we can’t just look around us.” I raise my eyebrows and peer over to her, “look around us?” She shrugs loosely and doesn’t meet my eye, “if you think it’s not gonna work, then it’s not gonna work, you have to believe that it can happen Fel. Aren’t you supposed to be the positive one out of us?” I start to hum deeply, “and aren’t you the silly one of us?” I ask softly and she scratches her chin.

“We’re all a lot of things,” Our eyes meet hesitantly, she sprouts a grin, “and it sounds like you just had a really really bad first kiss.” I slump over, “and now I work at Pet’s World with her.”

Dana laughs with her hand over her mouth, “that is kinda funny.” “It’s kinda sad,” I hang my head, “I’m never gonna find love. Like, ever. I’ll go to college a virgin, and leave that way too probably. Maybe I’m not even gay?” “Ugh,” Dana pokes me, “sad Felicity is the worst.” She pokes me again, “she doesn’t even listen.” I lift my head and our eyes meet again, I see Dana searching for something there. “But I’m also the stupid one so what do I know.”

I lean toward her, “can I be the stupid one too?” She grins softly and I join her, “oh, you can definitely be the dumbest.” “I guess, I just have to,” I blink a couple times, “look around me.”

She opens her mouth, and then closes it, she bites her lip before almost stuttering, “Only if you want to…” Dana blushes delicately and I feel her squirm next to me, I feel my lips turn up. “I’m sure. What were you always saying? I just have to try.” We both stare at each other for a very long minute.

Something creaks in the truck, it moves me. I lift her hand up to my lips, kissing the knuckles there gently and I feel something I didn’t know existed squiggle in my gut. I wait for her to lift her chin again and then I keep leaning forward.

“Dan,” I say slowly, “only if you want to.”

We pressed forward and Dana gasped gently as I kissed her, small and perfect across the lips and I feel a tingle go through something deep inside of me.

It was a little dry and off center, but my heart had picked up this time, it melted and oozed and maybe I was sweating a little bit too much. But I feel it, the electric slide, the commercial in my heart that was advertising the maranga.

The little pinwheel that kept going around and around in my head that jammed and stopped, I kissed her, and the whole thing froze. The sunrises in my mouth and the fireworks shoot off as our lips move against each other.

We part for a moment before coming back together more firmly and harsh, she takes my face in between her hands and we come together like that for a long long moment.

She only snickers once into my mouth, “you, not gay?” She lifts her eyes with a snort, “ridiculous.” I bite my lip and look her in the eye, “Actually,” I say, “totally straight,” I kiss her bottom lip, “but I’m sure you could convert me.” She takes my hand, “I’ll do what I can.” She scoots closer, “We could call it a summer camp even.”

I look her up and down, “I always heard everyone at band camp was gay.” She wraps her arms around my neck and hoods her eyes, “we’ll have to make music then.” I push on her shoulder as I laugh and shake my head, “don’t be a dork.” “Make me!” We come together once more with the sun our back and rust on my jeans, but there’s something sweet and melting inside of me, rising at the same time. I kiss her, and I somehow make it from all the way behind the finish line to the start.

There were so many more points to reach.

#wlw #sapphic #girls love #femslash February #original story #original writing #slice of life #humor

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yespleasefandomtrash · 8 years ago

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Hetalia High School Host Club

Just a crossover between Hetalia and Ouran High School Host Club. I rewrote the first chapter of the manga with a cast of Hetalia characters, plus there’s a little twist at the end that’s not really a twist. I hope you enjoy!

xXxXxXx

Starting Today, You are a Host!

Elizaveta sighed, pushing the bangs of her short brown hair out of her face as she continued to make her way up the over-furnished stairs. All she wanted was a quiet place the study. Nothing more, nothing less. And yet it seemed that every other room she’d gone to had been full of loud and obnoxious rich people. Thus logic was telling her to go to the top floor and find a room that no one else used. There had to be one.

Or so she hoped, anyway.

The Hungarian student stared up at the dusty sign hanging above the door she'd come across. It did appear to no longer be in use, if nothing else. “‘Third World Geography Room’, huh?” she mused. “I guess the course was removed from the roster, so they don't need the room anymore.” She couldn’t recall seeing it when she’d chosen her classes, so her assumption was logical – at least, in her opinion.

She took a deep breath, praying that the room would be empty and that she'd be able to study in peace, then opened the door.

You have got to be kidding me.

“Welcome, Hungarian foreign exchange student Eli Héderváry,” a smooth voice said, “to the Hetalia High School Host Club."

Ah, that’s right. I did ask to be called Eli for short, didn’t I?

She immediately turned on her heel and tried to leave, not wanting to have to deal with the group of six rich boys. Unfortunately, the same one who’d spoken stood from his chair, took a few steps forward, and grabbed her shoulder.

“Going somewhere?” he chuckled. She noticed that his eyes were a piercing violet, which was something she’d never seen before.

They must be contacts.

“Yes, actually,” she replied, shrugging his hand off of her. “Away from here.”

Roderich raised a brow when she spoke, remaining silent as he wrote something down in the small notebook he held in his left hand. When Lovino and Feliciano tried to peek, he held it out of their view, resulting in them sticking their tongues out at him. “So you’re the foreign exchange student everyone has been gossiping about as of late,” he said in attempt to direct their attention away from him. “You must have a lot of nerve to apply to Hetalia High of all schools.”

Elizaveta frowned, unsure of whether his words were a compliment or an insult. It turned out, however, that she had no time to think about it, so it didn't really matter.

“You are a hero to your people, mon cher!” the light-haired teen who’d grabbed her proclaimed. “At least, so to speak. It’s truly an amazing feat that you made it into Hetalia High – and by some chance of ‘fate’ you’ve stumbled upon the Host Club.” He winked at her. “Well, there’s no shame in being gay. A customer is a customer, after all!”

Elizaveta opened and closed her mouth in a manner akin to a fish. “I – actually, um…” She couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation.

“Don’t hide it, mon ami,” he chastised. “So, what do you prefer? Berwald – the ‘Wild’ type?” He gestured towards a tall man with icy blue eyes, who did nothing but stare at her. “Peter – the ‘Boy Lolita’?”

“Hi, Mr. Eli!” an energetic-looking boy exclaimed from atop the silent blonde’s shoulders. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“What about the ‘Little Devil’ type of Lovino and Feliciano, hmm?”

“Yo,” a set of identical twins said, flashing peace signs towards her. She swore that their curls seemed to bounce in unison.

“Even Roderich, the ‘Cool’ type?”

The dark-haired man pushed his glasses up his nose as means of acknowledgment, though his expression didn't change.

“Or perhaps,” the blonde said, taking her chin in one hand and holding out a rose to her with the other, “you’d prefer someone like me – Francis, the ‘Princely’ type?”

Elizaveta turned a brilliant shade of crimson before immediately shoving him away from her, sputtering incoherently. She took several steps backward so rapidly that she stumbled, slamming into a pedestal. She turned around, only to watch a vase fall in what seemed to be slow motion before shattering on the ground. She inhaled sharply, fearful of what the group's reactions were going to be.

“Oh dear,” Feliciano said, studying the broken vase. “That vase was going to be sold in the school’s auction!”

“And it was going to start bidding at eight million yen,” Lovino added, pouting. “Such a shame.”

Elizaveta felt the color drain from her face. “E-eight m-m-million yen?” she stuttered, trying to calculate exactly how many thousands were in a million and how on Earth she was going to pay it off. “I-I’ll pay you back… Somehow…”

Feliciano bit his lip, giving her a pitying look. “Are you sure about that? I mean… You can’t even afford the school’s uniform.”

The Hungarian flushed in embarrassment, looking down at the worn clothes she’d stolen from the back of her father’s closet. She thought they were quiet comfortable, but it was true that they didn’t compare to what any of the other students were wearing.

“You could have at least gone for something closer to a uniform,” Lovino chimed in, “instead of that tasteless garb.”

Elizaveta felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. “Right. Thanks for the advice,” she muttered.

“I suppose there’s only one thing for you to do,” Roderich said, snapping his notebook shut. “Francis?”

“Indeed,” the violet-eyed teen agreed, stroking his chin for no particular reason. “Eli, I’m sure you’ve heard this proverb before: when in France, be as elegant as the other Frenchmen are – correct?”

“A-Actually,” she corrected, unsure of how the man had managed to come up with something so very wrong, “it’s ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans do’.”

He shook his hand dismissively. “Same thing, mon ami. You’re not getting the idea.” He pointed at her, an evil grin painting his features – a complete turnaround from his previous attitude. “From now on, you’re going to be the Host Club’s dog!”

Elizaveta felt the blood drain from her face. “I’m… I’m what…?”

The twins laughed, each placing a hand on her shoulder. “You heard him, Eli!”

She hung her head. If only she’d never opened the door to the Third World Geography Room…

Too late now.

xXxXxXx

“Francis, will you take a trip with me this summer?” a pretty Asian girl with pink flowers in her hair asked, fluttering her eyelashes. “We can go wherever you want.”

Francis shrugged, leaning against the back of the couch. “If you so desire, ma chère – and the location doesn’t matter to me.” He winked at her. “So long as I’m with you, nothing does.”

The girl swooned, a blush painting her features. “Oh, how wonderful!” She hesitated, then added, “If you don’t mind, Francis, I made a batch of cookies of cookies earlier today, and I was wondering if…” She trailed off, casting her warm brown eyes to the ground.

“Wondering what?” he responded. “If I’d eat one?” Upon seeing her shy nod from the corner of his eyes, he sat up and turned towards her, taking her chin in his hand. “Of course,” he said, leaning close to her, violet eyes glittering, “but only if you feed it to me, ma chèrie.”

The girl squealed, making Elizaveta cringe. She really was surrounded by lunatics.

“Oh, and get this!” Lovino snickered, gesturing towards his twin. “Feliciano and I were playing a game, right? And this idiota here somehow managed to –”

“Lovino,” Feliciano interrupted, a pout permeating his lips and his cheeks painted with a blush, “I thought I told you not to tell anyone about that!”

“Did you?” the Italian replied carelessly. “I’m sorry – I don’t remember.”

“You’re so cruel, Lovi!” Feliciano protested, wiping away tears that Elizaveta was certain were fake. “I don’t understand why you’re always so mean to me!”

Lovino leaned over to his twin, cupping his face in his hands. “I suppose I am mean. But you’ll forgive me, won’t you, Feli?” Their noses brushed. “You always do.”

Elizaveta resisted the urge to gag at their dramatic performance, and was even more disgusted by how excited the two girls sitting in front of them became, squealing loudly and going on and on about how strong their forbidden ‘brotherly love’ was, and how the world was so cruel to keep them apart.

Honestly, she just didn’t see the appeal in it.

“Enjoying the show?” Roderich asked, appearing from nowhere and causing her to jump. “Oh, sorry – did I startle you?”

She shook her head, choosing not answer.

“In case you couldn’t tell,” the Austrian said, gesturing towards where the twins were still ‘performing’ with each other, “the Host Club takes its customers very seriously, and the main characteristic of each member has been cultivated precisely to cater to their preferences.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, a smirk dancing on his lips. “And, as expected, each member has their own group of regulars, so to speak, though Francis is easily the most popular host.”

Elizaveta felt her jaw drop. “Him?!” she repeated, not believing her ears.

Roderich nodded, handing her a slip of paper with each host’s average request rate on it.

“Seventy percent?!” she muttered, her grip so tight she almost tore the sheet in half. “Impossible.”

“The Host Club in itself is quite a hotspot for the school,” the dark-haired man continued, retrieving the paper from her hands before folding it and placing it inside his notebook. “That means you’re going to be doing a lot around here to repay your debt.” He smiled at her, and though it appeared cheerful, it radiated an aura of evil like nothing she’d ever seen. “And while you can try to run away, I assure you the Edelstein family has control over a large police force and we will not hesitate to track you down.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding. “R-Right.”

“Work hard and you’ll do fine, mon cher,” Francis said into her ear, causing her jump away from him while biting back a yelp.

“Please refrain from doing that,” she muttered, running a hand through her short brown hair. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

The blonde pouted. “Really? But it’s a classic technique.”

“As if I care about that sort of thing,” she mumbled, sighing silently to herself. “I just don’t understand the purpose of this club – catering to girls like that. It’s not as if appearance is that important anyways. Man? Woman? Who cares? It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”

“While that is true,” Francis said with a sigh, “you need to understand that sometimes people with perfect bodies and minds are created, and they have to be...”

Elizaveta tuned out the man as he continued rambling, failing to see the relevance of his words. Honestly, she really didn’t understand how this guy was the most requested host in the club. He was just so… She frowned. What was the word? Troublesome? No, that wasn’t it.

The Hungarian could still hear him talking about how beautiful he was or something, though it was going in one ear and out the other.

Frustrating, perhaps? No, that wasn’t the word she was looking for either – per se, at least. She snapped her fingers as it finally came to her. “I’ve got it.”

Francis beamed at her. “Oh, so you understand?”

“You’re annoying.”

The blood drained from the blonde’s face, and he sank into a corner, poking at the floor and mumbling incoherent sentences to himself, undoubtedly in an attempt to restore his ego.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve after all!” Lovino laughed, appearing from nowhere as he clapped her on the shoulder and jutted his thumb towards the Frenchman. “There aren’t too many people who can make him go into his emo corner!”

Feliciano giggled. “You have made him quite depressed, haven’t you?”

“I – I suppose I have,” Elizaveta replied, eyeing the blonde. “I mean, I told him the truth. Was I really that hurtful?”

“Nah,” Lovino said dismissively, still laughing. “Don’t bother with him. He’s such a drama queen.”

“Still,” she muttered, biting her lip. “Perhaps I should apologize.” She moved towards the sulking Frenchman. “Er, Francis?”

“Call me King,” he interrupted moodily. “That’s what I go by here.”

She raised a brow, skeptical but too lazy to protest. “Alright. King, are you –”

“Oi, Sovrano!” Lovino said, knocking Francis in the back of the head as he moved past him. “You’re in the walkway. Move.”

“You’re not allowed to slack off just because you’re a little butthurt, mio signore!” Feliciano added merrily, following suit of his twin.

“Indeed,” Roderich agreed, speaking for the first time in a while. “You have several customers waiting on you, so please go ahead and end this ridiculous pity party of yours.”

“Hi everybody!” a cheerful voice said. “Sorry we’re late!”

“Finally,” the Austrian muttered, checking something off in his notebook. “I was beginning to get more annoyed with them than their customers.”

“Peter! Berwald!” a girl with dark skin and dark ponytails said eagerly, running over to the duo as the younger blonde was being placed onto the ground. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting!"

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, his blue eyes getting watery. “I fell asleep waiting for Berwald to finish an exam, and I’m still kind of tired right now…” He yawned, as if to prove his point.

The girl gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Peter!” She quickly took his hands in hers and started pulling him towards an empty couch. “Come on – let’s get you comfortable.”

Berwald grunted before sweeping Peter off his feet and carrying him to the couch himself, the petite girl swooning as she trailed after them.

Elizaveta watched the scenario, not understanding at all. “Why does that Berwald guy never talk?” she muttered, only half-expecting an answer.

“No one really knows,” Francis replied, having recovered from his lapse of depression. “Berwald has always been a very quiet person, though silence is his selling point. He’s actually one of the friendliest people in the club, but is awkward around girls.”

“Only awkward around girls, huh?” Elizaveta said, amused. “I can think of reason why that might be.” She cleared her throat, changing the subject. “So… Is Peter actually in high school?”

“He’s the oldest in the club. You didn’t know?”

“He’s the – what?” she gaped, dumbfounded. “No way.”

He chuckled. “Kidding. He’s homeschooled by Berwald – he’s his younger cousin, you see. I think he’s only in middle school.”

Elizaveta nodded slowly, recovering from her shock. “I see. Makes sense.” Then she sighed. “I got entangled up with you rich people when I only wanted a quiet place to study…”

“You can’t study at home?” Francis asked, his curiosity piqued. “I imagine it’s quiet there.”

“Sometimes,” she snorted. “But as my father tends to work at night, and he brings his lover home during the day, it almost never is.”

The blonde flinched. “Ooh. I take it you don’t get along with your father?”

The Hungarian shrugged. “We get along fine, I suppose. The only things we really argue on are his inability to manage money and my lack of his taste in fashion.” Then a soft smile grew on her lips. “But I just don’t want to bother him. Though my opinion is that he doesn’t spend his time or his money wisely, he's brought me up by himself since I was little. It’s only fair that I give him some time to himself.”

Francis stroked his chin. “I see, I see. Indeed, your situation is as destitute as I thought, mon ami.”

Elizaveta frowned. “I’m not sure if ‘destitute’ is exactly the word to describe it.”

“Your staple is surely white rice or something similar, no?” he continued, ignoring her. “And you’re so poor that you have to serve as a servant for rich people! No wonder you’re so used to performing tasks like what the Host Club assigns to you!” Glassy tears were streaming down his cheeks. “Oh, my poor Eli, surely you cry yourself to sleep every night because of the abuse forced upon you!”

The brunette took a hasty step away from the dramatic Frenchman. “Francis, what era are you referring to?” she said, massaging her temples in exasperation. “This isn’t the eighteenth century, you know!”

The blonde wiped tears from his face with a handkerchief he’d pulled from nowhere. “I’ve been watching so many soap operas lately and they all include poor people such as yourself… I had no idea you were living in such unfavorable circumstances!”

Her eyebrow twitched. “I already said that I wasn’t living like that, if you’d listen to me –”

“Enough!” Francis interrupted, holding a hand out to silence her. “It’s time for you to learn!”

“Learn?” the girl repeated, clueless about what he was talking about. “Learn what?”

“It might be impossible because of your haggard appearance,” he mumbled, ignoring her completely, “but I will train you personally. Yes… Let me think…”

Elizaveta had never been so confused in her life – at least so it seemed to her. “Francis, could you please –”

“100 people!” he announced, pointing at her. “You will become a host – after you receive substantial training by moi, of course. And if you can get 100 people to request you, consider your debt to be paid off in full!”

Elizaveta felt the blood drain from her face at his words. “No…” She groaned, desperately wishing that he’d revoke his order and instruct her to continue as she was and keep doing chores for the club.

You’ve got to be kidding me…

xXxXxXx

“Remember the Hetalia Host Club motto, Eli,” Francis instructed. “Never hesitate, always cater to the customer, and above all – be beautiful!”

Elizaveta sighed as she practiced the same routine for what must have been the hundredth time. “Thank you for waiting,” she began, sliding into a seat and moving her glass forward. “I’m sorry that I –”

“No!” the violet-eyed man practically screeched, hitting her with a tube of rolled up newspaper. “Not like that!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Eli. Eli, Eli, Eli.” He cast his glance down at her. “I had such high hopes for you.”

She rolled her eyes, rubbing her head where she'd been hit. “Whatever. It’s not as if I even want to be a host.”

He ignored her comment, taking the cup from her hands. “Listen to me,” he said. “When you put the glass down, you must use a finger – preferably your pinkie – as a cushion. This prevents it from making any noise, meaning it doesn’t disturb the customers.”

The Hungarian nodded slowly, feeling that for once there was some logic behind the Frenchman’s eccentricity. “So it saves both the host and customer from an awkward silence?”

Francis shrugged. “I suppose. But most importantly –” He held the glass next to his face, flashing her a dazzling smile. “It helps make the host look good.”

She blinked, unsure of what he was referring to. Was it so they could see their reflection in the glass or something?

“Of course,” he chuckled, “some of us don’t need any assistance with looking good.”

“Right,” she sighed, not bothering to question it. “Anything else?”

“Yes!” Francis said, snapping his fingers. “One last thing.” He placed his elbow on the table and rested his face on his hand. He gave her a more relaxed and charming grin, looking up ever so slightly at her. “If you ever come across a problem during your time as a host, it’s always useful to look at things from a lower perspective.”

She stared blankly at him.

The corners of his mouth seemed to turn down at her lack of response. “Perhaps this is too high a level of a move for you, mon cher?”

She hesitated then said, “No… But I don’t ‘feel’ anything.” The technique must be faulty, she reasoned to herself. "Am I supposed to?"

Francis stumbled away in shock, gasping about how he had brought shame to his family and deserved to die before retreating to his emo corner.

“You’re joking,” Elizaveta muttered in exasperation, hanging her head. How irritating. “Actually, Francis, I did feel a bit of a spark! Or something…”

“Mr. Eli!” Peter cheered, appearing out of the blue and interrupting her. “Come eat cake with me! It’ll be fun!”

Elizaveta hesitated. “Well… You see, Peter, I’m not too fond of sweet things.”

“Is it because you’re so poor that you can’t afford them?!” Peter gasped, his blue eyes widening before starting to water. “Poor Mr. Eli! You and Hanatamago can share an entire cake if you want!” He held up a stuffed white dog eagerly. “See! He wants to share with you!”

The Hungarian sweatdropped. “I’m actually not too fond of dogs, either…”

The young blonde’s demeanor changed entirely as he gazed eerily at her. “Are you telling me that you don’t like Hanatamago?” he said slowly, his blue eyes narrowing before widening slightly as something seemed to occur to him.

Elizaveta gulped, terrified for a reason she couldn't identify. “Ah… Let’s eat, shall we?”

Peter beamed at her, his cheery attitude returning. “Yay!” he said, grabbing her arm and dragging her away.

She sighed in relief, going along with it.

These people are crazy.

xXxXxXx

“Rumors are flying around the school, Francis,” a pretty silver-haired girl said as she studied the glass in her hands, “that you’re training some little kitty with no pedigree to be a host.” She tilted her head to the side, a small frown dancing on her lips. “Is this true?”

Francis chuckled. “The rumors are correct, ma chère,” he said lightly. “And despite his lack of a pedigree, as you put it, he does have promise.”

The girl sighed. “If you say so, Francis.”

He smiled at her. “Are you worried about my reputation, Natalia?” He winked. “If so, there’s no need to be.” He gently took her hand in his. “You’re the only one for me, after all.”

The Belarusian woman blushed but rolled her eyes. “You’re such a flirt.” Francis shrugged, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I’ve heard that one before, ma chère. It’s nothing –”

“I’m back,” Elizaveta called as she trudged into the room, a bag of groceries in her arms.

“Excellent,” Francis cheered, distracted by the disturbance. “Thank you for buying our things, little piggy.”

Natalia studied the Hungarian who’d just walked in. “So this the kitten without a pedigree, huh?” she muttered to herself. "Interesting."

“First a dog, then a cat, and now a pig,” Elizaveta sighed before heading over to Francis and handing him a small container of instant coffee. “Who knows what it’ll be next.”

“What is this?” the blonde said, studying the label that said ‘Special Blend’. “I don’t remember –”

“It’s coffee,” the Hungarian interrupted. “It was sixth or seventh on the list Roderich gave me.”

Francis frowned. “Is it already ground?”

Elizaveta sighed. “It’s instant coffee. If you don’t like it I can –”

She was interrupted by the Frenchman’s exaggerated gasp. “Instant coffee?!” he said in awe, drawing the attention of the others hosts and causing them to gather around him. “This is what peasants make, isn’t it? Where you only have to put it in hot water before it’s ready to drink?”

“I see,” Roderich said, jotting something down in his ever-present notebook. “This is the rumored coffee of peasants.”

Elizaveta felt her eye twitch at the repeated use of ‘peasant’. “If it’s really that bad I can –”

“So it’s true that poor people don’t even have time to ground their own coffee beans,” Lovino said in disbelief. “What a pitiful life they must lead.”

“But how clever of them to come up with something like this!” Feliciano added in awe. “Such is the wisdom of peasants.”

“I’ve always wanted to try instant coffee!” Peter piped up. “It must taste so different!”

Berwald simply nodded.

“I SAID I’D GO GET THE RIGHT ONE!” Elizaveta growled, gritting her teeth. “I’m sorry it’s not the fancy expensive kind where you have to grind your own beans that you’re all used to.”

“No!” Francis said, holding the container into the air. “Don’t bother, Eli.” He took a deep breath. “I… I shall drink the commoner’s coffee!”

The entire room burst into a smattering of applause for the blonde, causing Elizaveta to groan. These people were ridiculous.

“Ooh, Sovrano!” Lovino smirked. “You’re so brave!”

“And look at this!” Feliciano gasped. “It only cost three hundred yen for a hundred grams! Lovino, that’s cheaper than a regular cup of coffee!”

“Gah,” Elizaveta said, pulling at her hair in frustration. “These stupid rich kids…!”

“They’re all acting so foolish,” Natalia said, studying her fingernails. “There’s no way a coffee meant for peasants could ever suit their tastes.”

Elizaveta frowned, turning towards the girl. “What?” she asked, having only heard the first sentence.

“Nothing,” the silver-haired woman said with false sweetness. “I was talking to myself.”

“Right,” Elizaveta said with a sigh, starting to move away from her. “Well, I’ll be –”

“Eli!” Francis called from behind a table, the rest of the Host Club beside him. “Come prepare the commoner’s coffee for us. We’re all waiting!”

Natalia bit back a sharp retort at the blonde’s eagerness, instead continuing to look over her nails.

“Fine,” Elizaveta grumbled, making her way over. “But don’t distract me.”

“Sì, Capitano!” the twins said in unison, saluting her as the rest of the Host Club nodded.

A few minutes later, she’d finished. “Done,” she muttered, stepping aside while Berwald poured the coffee into cups for the customers. “It’s a little hot. And don’t blame me if it doesn’t suit your tastes.”

“Come on,” Lovino crooned, holding out a small plate with a cup of coffee on it to a girl with dirty blonde hair. “Try it!”

“Oh, but I’m kind of scared,” she replied anxiously. “And I’m sure my father would get mad at me if I drank it!”

Francis chuckled at the ongoing scene in front of him. “It won’t suit our tastes, huh?” He moved towards the girl, cupping her face in his hands. “Would you drink it if it was served mouth-to-mouth, ma chère?” he asked, his voice low.

“I-I’d drink it!” the girl stuttered, her entire face so red it would make a cherry envious.

“Well then,” he said, pulling away, “cheers to this commoner’s coffee!”

“Yay!” the twins said, clinking their cups together before downing it in unison.

“Natalia,” a short-haired girl muttered. “Don’t you think Francis is going a bit overboard with this? I mean, he’s actually drinking that coffee!”

Natalia sighed. “He’s only being polite to the boy he wants to make into a host, Katyusha,” she replied. Her violet eyes narrowed as she watched the blonde walk up to the foreign exchange student and ask for another cup. “But his kindness is quite the problem in itself.”

Elizaveta sighed at the request. “Fine. I’ll make some more.”

These spoiled rich people.

xXxXxXx

“Today we’re going to keep conducting our research on the way commoners live!” Francis proclaimed. “And so, everyone – we will be trying the peasants’ ramen!”

“Eh?” Elizaveta said, blinking in confusion. “What does this have to do with teaching me how to be a host?”

She was ignored.

“Alright! Everyone, you have to try to make a different type of ramen – and it must be edible!” Francis announced, clapping his hands together.

“Yes, mio signore!” the twins said, saluting him.

“There’s so many different types,” Peter said in awe. “Berwald, what kind should we make?”

The Swede’s response was to hand the short blonde a package of noodles.

“Ooh!” Peter said, practically drooling. “This one does look good.”

“Now, I want you all to follow the teacher’s instructions!” Francis said, pointing at Elizaveta, who blinked in surprise.

“Me?” She sighed. Of course she was the teacher. “Fine.” She headed towards the table, where everything was already laid out. “First, you have to –”

But before she could begin, the Hungarian was peppered with questions from all sides.

“It says to heat for three and four minutes – what’s the difference?”

“Do you have to throw out certain parts of it? And – ooh, what’s this?”

“Spicy mayo stings my eyes. Can we not put it in?”

Elizaveta sighed, already overwhelmed and not even a minute had gone by. But the voice that drew her attention was one she hadn’t yet heard.

“The ingredients are stuck to the lid,” Berwald said, a slight frown on his face.

Her jaw dropped, amazed that he’d actually spoken. “Oh – well…” She took a container of ramen for herself and began to demonstrate. “If you put the ingredients below the noodles before you begin, then you don’t have to worry about that happening.”

Berwald nodding before copying her actions.

“Such an amazing technique, mon ami!” Francis gushed. “The ingenuity of peasants will never cease to amaze me!” He took Elizaveta’s head in his hands, touching their foreheads together. “You, Eli, are truly wonderful! Please, give me permission to express my awe with my body.”

Elizaveta didn’t lose composure for even a moment. “Please don’t,” she muttered. “It’s irritating and uncomfortable.”

“Oh, it’s not just that,” Lovino said with a sigh. “Feliciano, Eli doesn’t get the big picture, does he?”

The other Italian shook his head sadly. “No, Lovi – he doesn’t. He’s completely missing the point.”

“What are you two going on about?” the Hungarian said after shoving Francis away from her.

“Let us explain this to you,” Lovino said, linking arms with his twin. “You see, females love two beautiful homosexuals together – especially when an element of the relationship being a forbidden one is added.”

Feliciano winked at her. “Sì. And as twins, we’re able to use the forbidden card to its fullest! We play it off as two guys who don’t know whether they’re friends, brothers, or…” He turned to face his twin, touching their noses together. “Something more.”

“And to add to that,” Lovino continued after a pause, moving next to the brunette, “our customers get to be loved by us, who have such a deep bond – at the same time.”

“The ultimate romance for girls,” Feliciano agreed, standing on the opposite side of her.

Elizaveta just blinked, her eyes blank. “Okay.”

The twins sighed. “We knew you wouldn’t get it.” They exchanged glances, something clicking in their identical brown eyes.

“Then why did you bother explaining?” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Geez.”

Francis nodded, stroking his chin. “I see what you mean – Lovino, Feliciano. The problem once again lies in the visual.”

“Or Eli’s denseness when it comes to hosting,” they suggested.

Francis ignored them, stepping towards the Hungarian. “Let’s see… Perhaps it’s the glasses – though by taking those off it may make your eyes seem smaller,” he said, reaching to remove the glasses from her face. “And what’s with these old-fashioned frames?”

She rolled her eyes. “They were my grandfather’s,” she said, though she didn’t stop the blonde from taking them off her face.

Francis bit back a gasp upon seeing the teen without glasses.

Elizaveta didn’t notice, continuing to tell her story. “And they’re only temporary. I lost my contacts on the morning of the first day of school, and I haven’t had time to get any new ones.” She noticed how all conversation had stopped. “Er… Is something wrong?”

Francis ignored her, snapping his fingers. “Lovino! Feliciano!”

“Ready, mio signore!” they shouted, holding scissors and a towel that had appeared from nowhere.

“Roderich,” the blonde continued, “call the school’s tailor immediately and have them prepare a uniform in Eli’s size! And Berwald, go get those disposable contacts you keep for emergencies!”

Both nodded and followed their respective orders.

“Francis!” Peter called. “What about me? What do you want me to do?”

“And Peter, mon ami,” Francis said kindly, “what I need you to do is eat some cake!”

The short blonde begrudgingly went over to an empty table, lugging his stuffed dog along with him. “Everyone’s too busy for us, Hanatamago,” he muttered. “They all think we're useless.”

Lovino pushed Elizaveta into a chair while Feliciano tied the towel around her neck, draping it so that it covered her lap.

“What are you doing?!” she yelped as they started to trim and style her hair.

“Trust us,” they replied in unison. “We know what we’re doing.”

She groaned, resigning herself to her fate.

Rich people are so weird.

xXxXxXx

“Have you finished changing into the uniform yet, Eli?” Francis called. “And I hope the contacts are alright.”

“They’re fine,” he heard the Hungarian grumble. “And I’m almost done.”

A few moments later, she walked out of the dressing room, adjusting the tie around her neck. “How much did this uniform cost?” she sighed.

“Three hundred thousand yen,” Roderich said, making a note in his book. “It will be added to your debt, I’m afraid.”

Elizaveta sighed. “I knew it.”

“You look so cute, Eli!” Francis said, almost tackling her with a hug. “And dare I say it – you look almost like a girl!” He winked at her. “Adorable, ma chèrie.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, pushing him away from her.

“You really do look very cute, Mr. Eli!” Peter beamed. “I’m sure the girls will be all over you!”

Berwald nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” Lovino said awkwardly, not meeting her eyes, a tiny blush dancing on his cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier you had that kind of face?”

“Right!” Feliciano added. “You radiate innocence!”

Roderich chuckled. “Perhaps you'll be able to manage a customer or two.”

“Yes!” Francis agreed with enthusiasm. “All the factors have now been calculated! It’s now your time to shine, mon ami – show the customers your beauty!”

Elizaveta felt the blood drain from her face.

I actually have to be a host?!

xXxXxXx

“S-So, Eli,” a stammering blonde said, adjusting the ribbon in her hair, “w-what are some of your hobbies? A-Are you more into arts, o-or sciences?”

“Is it true that have to get around by train?” the brunette beside her demanded, interrupting the poor girl. “Or some other form of public transportation? Because you’re so poor you can’t afford a car?”

“That’s so rude, Lien!” the blonde gasped, horrified.

The Lien girl shrugged. “I was only curious, Lili. But whatever.” She frowned, leaning towards Elizaveta. “Do you use something special for your skin? Because your face is flawless.”

“No, I don’t do anything for it,” the Hungarian replied awkwardly, unsure of what she was supposed to say.

“Why don’t you tell us why you decided to join the Host Club?” Lili suggested, giving her a soft smile.

Elizaveta frowned. “Well, I broke a v –” She stopped, recalling that she wasn’t supposed to mention that incident to any customers. Her eyes widened as realization occurred.

The vase!

That was right – if she could just get one hundred customers, she’d be free of the eight million yen debt.

Then panic set in. She still had no idea what she was supposed to be doing!

If you ever come across a problem during your time as a host, it’s always useful to look at things from a lower perspective.

Francis’ words from earlier drifted into her mind, and she relaxed a bit. She could do this.

“Would you ladies,” she said slowly, picking up a glass from the table before shifting herself so that she was looking at the girls from beneath them, “like to get some more water?”

Both girls turned a brilliant shade of crimson, stammering together, “S-Sure!”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Roderich said to the twins, who were watching her performance. “He’s a natural – and his innocence is undoubtedly a refreshing treat.”

Lovino snorted. “I guess.”

“And it’s not as if any of the other hosts fall under the category of ‘polite’, huh?” Feliciano mused. “But you’re right, Roderich – he is a natural.”

Francis had shifted on the couch to watch the Hungarian, much to the dismay of his customer.

“Your mother passed away when you were little, Eli?” Lili asked, covering her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“What do you do about housework without your mom?” Lien said, her arms crossed over her chest. “I mean, you’re too poor to hire some sort of maid.”

“Lien!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Elizaveta laughed. “I actually do most of them myself. I don’t mind, plus it helps make things less stressful for my father. And I love cooking.” A soft smiled formed on her lips. “My mother did, too. She left a lot of recipes behind, and it’s enjoyable to learn how to cook them one by one. And since I’m in Japan right now, instead of Hungary, I love combining traditional Hungarian recipes with Japanese ones to see what I can create.” She chuckled to herself. “Though I’ll admit that they don’t always turn out well.” She smiled warmly at the girls. “But when they do, it makes my father happy – and myself, too. I love times like those more than anything.”

Both Lili and Lien had been struck speechless, the latter finally breaking the silence after a moment. “Could we… Could we request you again tomorrow, Eli?”

Elizaveta beamed at them. “I would appreciate that very much, ladies.” After all, it’d make her one step closer to paying off her debt.

“S-Such a natural,” Francis stammered, Roderich nodding in agreement. “He doesn’t need any sort of special technique or anything!”

Natalia cleared her throat, trying to draw the blonde’s attention back to her. “Francis? Are you ignoring your most loyal customer?”

“I’m sorry, ma chèrie,” he said, bowing his head to her. “I was concerned for our newest host.”

“Mhmm,” the Belarusian replied, hiding her disdain well. “You certainly do your best to watch over him, don’t you?”

Francis chuckled. “Well, he’s quite intriguing, if I’m honest.” His violet eyes lit up as a thought occurred to him. “Miss Natalia, have you by chance tried the commoner’s ramen? It’s so delicious to the point it’s nearly addicting.”

Natalia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “No, I have never tried it – and don’t intend to, as it's quite unhealthy. And I’m surprised you've eaten it, Francis. It seems below you.”

The blonde shook his head, giving her a warm smile. “Not at all, ma chère. If anything I’ve been getting into more and more commoners’ food as of late.” He then turned away from the girl, snapping his fingers. “Eli! I’d like you to meet my best customer.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss…?” Elizaveta said to the girl, wondering how anyone could find Francis so attractive that they’d request him all the time.

“Natalia,” she replied frostily. “Natalia Arlovskaya.”

“Miss Arlovskaya,” the Hungarian concluded, smiling at her. For some reason, the silver-haired woman seemed familiar to her… Ah! That was it. She was the girl from a few days ago, who’d said something under her breath about the instant coffee.

“You’re too cute, Eli!” Francis squealed, tackling her in a hug. “I’ve never seen you make such an adorable face!”

Elizaveta tried to escape from the Frenchman’s grip, but found herself trapped.

“You looked so shy and precious and – oh, you’re so cute!”

“Excuse me, Francis,” Natalia interrupted, her tone laced with irritation. “I’m still –”

“The cutest thing in the world!”

The twins snickered. “Eli’s being sexually harassed by Sovrano again.”

Somehow through the chaos that was Francis, Elizaveta caught sight of a certain stoic blonde. “Berwald! Help me!” she begged, reaching out for him.

A split second later, she felt herself being lifted through the air and then slung over his shoulder, the wind knocked out of her. “Er… Thank you,” she said, coughing in an attempt to return oxygen to her lungs.

Berwald, who seemed frozen in shock from some revelation, broke out of it and nodded.

“You didn’t have to go that far, Berwald,” Francis said, frowning.

“I was asked for help, so I helped,” the Swede replied calmly.

“Hmph,” the Frenchman sniffed before returning his attention to Elizaveta. “Why don’t you come back to Papa, Eli?”

“Because I don’t need another father,” she grumbled as she was being put down.

Natalia watched the entire exchange, violet eyes narrowed as she seethed internally

“Why not? Two fathers is better than one!”

“Not if the second father is you, Francis!” Elizaveta retorted.

Good grief.

xXxXxXx

“Let’s play the ‘Which One is Lovino Game?’!” the twins cheered, linking arms with each other and adjusting the hats on their head in sync.

Elizaveta snorted to herself. It seemed like a boring game.

“It’s so difficult,” Laura said, tucking a strand of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear. “You guys look so identical!”

“Eli, who do you think is who?” Lili asked. “Can you tell the difference?”

Elizaveta sighed. “Feliciano is on the right and Lovino the left.”

“Wrong!” they crowed, sticking their tongues at her.

She shook her head. “No, I’m right. You might look identical, but you are different. Though sometimes the difference is slight.”

The twins exchanged glances, unable to comprehend how she’d seen through them so easily.

“That’s amazing, Eli!” Lili said, green eyes wide. “You’re so wonderful!”

“You looked at them not with your eyes, but with your heart,” Laura gushed. “Ah, how perfect!”

“He’s definitely skilled at hosting,” Roderich said to the blonde standing beside him. “He’ll have a hundred customers before you know it.”

Francis nodded, not commenting.

“Oh, Eli!” Laura gasped, noticing the bandage on Elizaveta’s left index finger. “What happened?”

“Oh, I cut myself on accident while preparing dinner last night,” the Hungarian replied, shrugging. “It’s nothing.”

“As long as you’re sure you’re okay…”

“I am,” she replied, flashing the girls a warm smile. “It’s very sweet of you to be concerned for me.” While her customers giggled in joy amongst themselves, Elizaveta recalled the real reason she’d gotten the cut.

A piece of a blade between the pages of my math textbook. And before that, a sewing needle in the back of my jacket.

She sighed, wondering if it was a coincidence or not.

I can’t assume someone is out to get me, but I have to admit… It does feel that way.

xXxXxXx

Elizaveta groaned as she stared down at the fountain through the second floor window. All her stuff had been thrown into it – she cursed. That meant her wallet was down there, too. And that had her food money in it. “This is getting ridiculous," she sighed. “Guess I should go get it…” She turned around, only to bump into someone. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she apologized, bowing. “I should have been looking where I was going.”

“Oh, hello,” the silver-haired woman she’d run into said coolly. “You’re the commoner foreign exchange student, no?”

Ah, Elizaveta remembered. This girl was Francis’ best customer. Natalia something.

“I suppose you do look much more like someone from our school, now that Francis has fixed you up a bit,” she continued. She started to move past the Hungarian, only to pause and add, “Such a shame he can’t fix the rest of you – like your poor upbringing, hmm?” With that, she was gone.

Elizaveta sighed to herself before continuing to make her way down to the fountain. She couldn’t leave her stuff down there for long, or else it would be completely waterlogged.

As she was rooting through the water for her last few items, her mind drifted back to the Belarusian woman. She was likely the one responsible for everything that had been happening to her lately. But she couldn’t go saying that without having some sort of proof to back up her statement.

She groaned as she came up empty-handed yet again. “I really need to find my food money…”

“Bonjour, mon ami,” an amused voice said. “Skipping club activities to have a little splash in the pond, are we?”

Elizaveta sighed, recognizing the person all too well. “Sorry, Francis.” If she was honest, she'd completely forgotten.

“Why’s your bag all wet?” he asked, nudging at it with his foot.

“I dropped it,” she replied. “But my wallet fell out when I did, and now I can’t find it.”

“That’s because you’re always supposed to keep your wallet in a pocket that’s zipped shut!” he scoffed. “You didn’t know that?”

The Hungarian rolled her eyes, not bothering to reply.

“But anyways,” Francis said, stepping into the fountain before taking his shirt off and throwing it aside, “your method of searching is pathetic, mon ami. You’ve got to do it with flair… Like so!” He shoved his hands into the water, flailing around as he hunted for her wallet.

“You don’t have to help me!” Elizaveta said, trying to stop him. “You’re going to get all wet!”

He gave her a sincere smile – perhaps the first she’d ever seen from him. “No worries. After all, people always tell me that I’m dripping with good looks.”

She froze, staring at him. Could he be a good person after all…?

“Aww, you’re making that cute face again,” Francis gushed, pinching her cheeks and effectively ruining the moment. “Have you fallen in love with me already?”

Elizaveta glared icily at him before shoving his hands away from her. “No thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue searching.”

“Of course,” he chuckled. “If memory serves,” he added, his laughter suddenly gaining an evil edge to it, “finder’s fee is thirty percent?”

“You’re rich and still do that stuff?” she muttered, not bothering to give a proper answer.

Finally, they managed to find her wallet, and both cried tears of joy. Metaphorically speaking.

After helping her gather her stuff together, Francis said he had to return to the Host Club, but told her to go and dry off.

“We can manage one session without our natural rookie,” he said with a wink before walking away.

She shook her head as he went, though a small smile was dancing on her lips.

I guess he’s not so bad after all.

xXxXxXx

“That does indeed sound quite bothersome,” Natalia said, taking a sip of tea. “But weren’t you scared, Eli, of how your bag fell into the fountain all by itself? I mean, I’d be terrified.”

“Y-Yes,” Elizaveta stuttered in response, wondering why on Earth this woman would request her. “It was unexpected, to say the least.”

“Although, the thing that is most bothersome to me is that you forced Francis to help you search the fountain,” the Belarusian continued, staring coldly at the brunette. “I mean, your bag was a cheap little thing, wasn’t it? You had no right to subdue Francis in such a way.” She took a sip of her tea before continuing. “I hope you don’t believe he cares about you. The only reason he’s paid you any attention is because your family background is something new to him – before you know it he’ll have forgotten all about you.” She chuckled. “Perhaps all those strange things that happened to you are because of your arrogance around Francis, hmm?”

Something clicked in Elizaveta’s mind. “I understand.” She stared at the silver-haired woman. “You’re jealous – aren’t you?”

The color drained from Natalia’s face. "I – I –" She stopped speaking as her violet eyes got a malicious glean in them. In less than a second she’d flipped the tea try, spilling it all over herself. “Help!” she shrieked. “Eli dumped tea on me!”

The room exploded into whispers as everyone’s attention was drawn to Elizaveta and Natalia.

The silver-haired woman spat at the Hungarian. “I always knew you couldn’t trust commoners, especially one as disgusting as – augh!” She stared up at the Vargas twins, who were both holding now empty glasses above her head. “What on Earth –?!”

“Oops,” they said in unison. “Sorry. Our hands slipped.”

Roderich stepped forward next to Elizaveta, then dropped several photographs on the table, including one of Natalia dumping the brunette’s bag into the fountain. “Did you really think we weren’t aware of what you were doing, Miss Arlovskaya?” he said coldly. “Please don’t underestimate my information network.” An evil smile danced on the corners of his lips. “And just so you know – we have much more than these few pictures, so don't try anything funny.”

“You’re so scary,” Peter said to her, hugging Hanatamago to his chest. “You’re like some kind of demon-lady.”

“Hideous,” Berwald murmured, staring down at the violet-eyed woman.

“It’s true,” Francis agreed, lifting Natalia’s chin with his hand.

“Francis!” she gasped. “Eli –”

He held up a hand to silence her. “You may be beautiful on the outside, but what’s the use if you only look good?” He sighed, placing a hand over his heart as he stepped away from her. “It pains me to say this, ma chère, but would you mind never coming back to the Host Club?” He stared coldly at her, his violet eyes hardening. “By behaving as you have towards Eli, you are no longer allowed to be a customer.”

Natalia swallowed the lump in her throat before standing, eyes watery. “Fine,” she said before marching out of the room. Out of respect to her, everyone ignored the sounds of crying that echoed through the hall afterwards.

Elizaveta, who’d ended up on the floor in the middle of the commotion, stared up at Francis, waiting for something to happen – though she wasn’t sure what.

Francis noticed her gaze from the corner of his eyes and felt blood rush to his cheeks. “Right,” he said, coughing before clearing his throat. “You’ve earned yourself a punishment for causing so much trouble. Plus one hundred customers to your current quota. Understand?”

Her jaw dropped. “What?!”

He sighed. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have lost my best customer, nor would I have had to search through a pond with my beautiful self.”

She groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The Frenchman chuckled at her misery before offering his hand to her. “Chin up, Eli – I have high expectations for you.”

She rolled her eyes, ignoring his hand and standing up on her own. “Thanks, I guess.”

Francis noticed a small card on the floor, soaked in tea. “What’s this?”

Elizaveta turned to see what he was referring to. “Oh, it’s probably mine,” she said as he picked it up. “I bet it fell out of my pocket.”

“Eli…” he said after a long pause.

“Hmm?”

“Are you… Are you a girl?”

“Yes.” She hesitated, then added, “Biologically, at least. My full name is Elizaveta.” She looked down at the ID he was holding. “Oh, I forgot my hair is long in that picture. It’s from ninth grade.”

Francis blinked, not responding immediately. Finally, things seemed to click into place. “YOU’RE A GIRL?!”

Lovino rolled his eyes at the scene unfolding in front of him. “He finally figured it out. That idiota.”

Feliciano laughed. “Well, I’m sure he knew it instinctively, and just refused to acknowledge it. After all, no one would do that much for a guy.”

“I knew it from the beginning!” Peter giggled. “Well, pretty much.”

Roderich chuckled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s certainly an interesting development. Who knows what this will turn into?”

Elizaveta took her ID from the blonde while he continued to sputter nonsensical phrases. “I mean, I was fine with you thinking I was a guy, so I didn't say anything. The importance of being distinctively a guy or girl is probably lower for me than the average person. It’s not as if I’ve ever been interested in appearances.” She rolled her eyes. “My father is interested enough for the both of us.” She smiled at Francis – perhaps the first real one she’d ever given him. “But you know, you were pretty cool earlier.”

He turned a brilliant shade of crimson at her words, covering his mouth with one hand.

Offhandedly, the brunette added, “And I’ve realized that it’s really not too bad to be popular amongst the girls. It’s actually kind of fun.”

And as quickly as the blush had appeared, it faded to be replaced by an expression of dread on Francis’ face. “WHAT? Wait, Eli – I mean, Elizaveta –!”

Roderich sighed as he watched the blonde chase after the poor Hungarian, though there was a smile dancing on his lips.

Could this be the beginnings of love?

xXxXxXx

“And that’s basically how the first chapter goes,” Haruhi said, switching her phone to her left hand while she took a pan of cookies out of the oven with her right. “I just thought it was funny because it used so many of your friends’ names – and your own –, not to mention it reminded me of the Host Club I was in. Technically still in, I suppose.”

Roderich chuckled on the other end of the line. “I can see why you might find it amusing. Perhaps I should read the series myself.”

Haruhi laughed nervously. “I’m sure if it’s your type of series. I’m only reading it because Mei wanted me to. She insisted that it had a lot of parallels to how Tamaki and I met. Which it kind of does.” Her brown eyes widened as a though came to mind. “Oh! Your girlfriend, Elizaveta!” She stopped. “Er, are you and Elizaveta a thing right now?”

The Austrian laughed. “Yes, we are.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was worried that I was about to offend you, because I know you were on-again, off-again for a while.” She cleared her throat and began to carefully move the cookies from the pan into a container. “Anyways, she’s into romance stuff, isn’t she? She might like it.”

“I’ll recommend it to her,” Roderich said, “but I don’t know how comfortable she’ll be with reading a story that has so many names in it that she’s familiar with.”

“Well, I don’t know her too well,” Haruhi began, “so I guess I can’t really speak for her, but she seems like the type of person who wouldn’t care about that sort of thing all too much.”

“I'm sure you’re right,” he agreed. “I’d tell her about the book right now, but she’s currently engaged in an epic video game marathon with Gilbert. Every now and then I heard cursing from the room they’re in. Or worse, I hear Elizaveta hitting him with her frying pan.”

“What game are they playing?”

“Mario Kart.”

Haruhi bit back a laugh. “Well, I suppose it’s perfectly understandable if that’s the case.”

“Agreed.” There was a pause. “You know,” Roderich mused, “I think I’ll let Francis know about it as well. He loves being the center of attention, so he’ll enjoy having a book where one of the central characters – and the love interest, it seems – shares his name.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” the brunette teased. “If memory serves, you’ve told me that he’s a huge flirt. He might try and steal Elizaveta from you if you aren’t careful.”

He snorted. “He can try, but her frying pan would turn him away pretty quickly.”

She laughed. “You might as well show the book to everyone that’s mentioned in it. But if you don’t get in contact with me before a week goes by I’ll have to assume one of them has killed you.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Roderich said dryly. “Aren’t you hilarious?”

Haruhi chuckled, putting the last of the cookies away. “I’m aware.”

“Why don’t you show the book to your friends? It has parallels to your life, after all.”

“Mori actually read it before me, surprisingly enough,” she said. “He recommended it to Kasanoda, who then gave it Mei, and now it’s made its way to me.” Offhandedly, she added, “Mei and Kasanoda are actually a thing now – if you can remember them at all.”

“Really?” Roderich said, a note of surprise in his voice. “That’s the redhead and your childhood friend, right?”

“Yup.”

“Interesting. I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Me neither, if I’m honest,” she replied with a laugh. “But they’re a cute couple, so I hope things work out between them.”

“To get back on topic,” the Austrian said, “do you plan on showing it to your friends or not?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Tamaki is going to find the book no matter what I do, so he’ll read it. Mori has likely told Honey to read it already. I might get in contact with Hikaru and Kaoru to tell them; they’re laid back enough to enjoy it. But Kyoya…?” She shuddered. “He’d say it’s a waste of his time and of no benefit to the Ootori family. I can picture the conversation now.”

“Get your fiancé to tell him,” Roderich chuckled. “They’re best friends, aren’t they?”

Haruhi smirked. “I’ll take you up on that suggestion. Though the first step is for me to get Tamaki to read it, huh?”

“I’m sure you can. You are quite persuasive.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” The girl paused as heard the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Haruhi!” a cheery voice called. “I’m home!”

“I’ve got to go, Roderich,” she said, her tone apologetic. “Tamaki’s back, and I know he’ll be annoyed if I stay on the phone any longer.” She rolled her eyes. “He insists that we have ‘cuddle time’ every evening.”

Roderich sighed. “I wish I could get Elizaveta to have some ‘cuddle time’ with me. But I’m afraid she’d break my neck.” He paused as the girl laughed at his comment, then added, “It’s rather convenient that you have to hang up now, because I just heard a suspicious clang coming from the main room, and now I only hear Elizaveta’s voice.” He sighed again, though this one was of exasperation. “I hope she hasn’t gone off and killed Gilbert. Ludwig wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Haruhi shook her head, a smile painting her features. “Well, I wish you luck with whatever you end up facing. And don’t forget to show your friends the book! It’s called ‘Hetalia High School Host Club’, in case you've already forgotten.”

“Fine, as long as you do the same.”

“Deal.”

“It was good talking to you again, Haruhi.”

“You as well. Goodbye.” There was a beep as she hung up, then a click as she turned the phone off and shoved it into her back pocket.

“Who were you talking to?” Tamaki asked, causing her to jump.

“Please don’t sneak up on me!” the brunette said, holding one hand to her heart. “Good grief, Tamaki.”

He pouted before pulling her into a hug. “Sorry. But who was that?”

“I can already tell that you’re overthinking this,” she commented wryly, hugging him back. “It was just my old friend Roderich. My father signed me up for music lessons while I was younger because I was so tone-deaf, and he was there, too. Though he was far more talented than the rest of us. I think he makes a living as a pianist, actually.”

Tamaki’s pout deepened. “A pianist?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re much better than him, alright? Does me saying that make you feel better?”

He beamed at her. “Yes, it does!”

She sighed. “You’re such an idiot, you know.”

He buried his face in her hair. “Yes. Hikaru, Kaoru, Kyoya – you’ve all reminded me of that plenty of times. But what’s important is that I’m your idiot.”

Haruhi chuckled. “That you are.”

Her fiancé pulled away, an eager grin painted on his face. “So we get to have cuddle time tonight, yeah? I’ve already picked out some movies to choose from!”

“Yes, we get to have cuddle time,” she said, unable to stop herself from smiling. “I baked cookies for us to eat, too.” She held up the container as proof.

Tamaki cheered, grabbing her free hand and pulling her into the living room. “Yay! Let’s go!”

As she was being dragged along, the brunette got an idea. “Actually, Tamaki,” she said slowly, “can we read a book tonight while we cuddle, instead of watching a movie?”

He shrugged as he pulled her onto the couch beside him. “Depends. What’s it about?”

Haruhi smiled. “I think you’ll like it. It’s called ‘Hetalia High School Host Club’.”

Tamaki’s eyes lit up, and mischievous smirk grew on his face. “Is that so?” He laughed. “I have a feeling I’ll like it a lot.” He reached to the side and grabbed the book off of the small coffee table next to him. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

xXxXxXx

Thanks for Reading!

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