The next thing I know, I'm being shoved behind a curtain by the two twins, with rather heavy articles of clothing wrapped in my arms. "Make it quick," they say, simultaneously as ever. "You've got a long day of work ahead of you, Mr. S." And with that, they flick the pearly-white curtain closed, leaving me to my own devices.
With a small huff, I turn away from the entrance. The room is very vast as compared to the dressing rooms I've seen in malls and indie clothing stores. I can spread out my arms and notice that the width of the room is twice that. Thrice, for the depth. To the right of a finished, stone bench stands a gold-framed mirror at the opposite side of the dressing room, giving me a better look at myself. I wear wide-framed glasses, frame itself being a greenish-brown. My hair is flown back, giving it an almost mohawk look if it weren't for the hair still lingering on the side of my skull. My eyes are a vivid contrast of orange, a colour that compliments the uniform more than any of the others.
And there is the uniform, draped in my arms, begging to be put on.
I walk toward the bench and lay out my new uniform elegantly across its top. Then my hands float to the the top coat I'm wearing and tug it off my torso, the way I do so ever so awkward. I proceed to take off my white dress shirt, unbuttoning it from the top down. The rather cold air hits my bare shoulders, sending a shiver down my spine. I wrap my arms around my torso before pulling away to remove my slacks. I pull on the other slacks and the dress shirt, both sliding on comfortably, obviously expensive silk. I slip on the black tie, then continue to the dress coat, which was the heaviest out of all of the articles, but still has the consistency of the dress shirt and slacks, and was very comfortable to wear. I wince every time I think about how spendy these things are. A rich man's luxury, these are.
I see myself in the mirror again, astonished at how well the uniform fitted. The blue dress coat just barely goes past my hips, complimenting my two-toned hair colour. The slacks and dress shirt go well with the design, as always, almost a one-style-fits-all. Slowly but surely, my gaze goes past the clothing, and to the exit. I can't believe that I've become one of them, I think, and I'm not sure that's a good thing. Sure, the boys are trustworthy and all, but I just can't fit in with them. It's nothing I can change. I string my fingers together over my semi-calm beating heart. What a way to go about things, mom.
Precious moments later, I pop my head out of the dressing room, pulling a faked smile as I reveal the uniform to the twins. They frown judgementally, nodding. "Looks good," one of the twins say.
"Heck, it may look better on you than anyone else." The other twin shrugs.
"Now," they say in unison, "it's time for the fun part..."
They steer me toward Music Room 3 again, and push me through the door. As I stumble and nearly fall on my face, I realize the sheer number of young ladies being... entertained by the Host club. Infatuation, however, is not the way I go around doing things.
I bite into my forefinger. Only a couple minutes until we're in business, I prepare, biting into it even more. I never have been this nervous since I was forced to join the talent show in elementary school, and it's practically the same concept. Just a little bit more... touchy-feely. I wonder, however, if any one of these young women would even be attracted to me. Of course not, I think. The rest of the Hosts, I have to admit, are very attractive, but me? I'm not.
That is when three expensively-clad young women walk over to me, wearing pastel yellow dresses that I assume are school uniform. The one to the farthest left wore curled, blonde hair, and couldn't meet my gaze. The middle one wears short hair like mine, except it drifts off to her right side in three big and sharp clumps. The one to the farthest right seems like the third wheel, though she has a book in her hands, wearing wire-thin framed glasses, her glossy black hair looking almost purple.
"Hey dude," says the drifty-haired one.
Dude? I think. Oh no... I'm not attracting the tomboys, am I? I fake a smile and wave back. "Hi! I'm—"
"Oh, we know you," she interrupts. "You're that Mr. S one, right? The new Host?"
I shrug. "Seems that way. The Hosts just couldn't keep their hands off me." I try to keep the annoyance in my tone back, but the drifty-haired girl raises an eyebrow.
"That's how it normally goes." The drifty hair girls gestures to the girl to her side. "Anyways, this is Fluttershy." I hear a small meep come from her. "She was really reluctant at first," she continues, "but then she submitted in the end." She chuckles, nudging the girl to her left. "This egghead is Twilight Sparkle, who can't keep her nose out of a book for the life of her."
"Hypocrisy," Twilight Sparkle says simply, flipping a page of her book.
The drifty-haired girl's eyebrows twitch downward, and she turns a little bit red. "Aaanyway," she semi-grunts, placing the tips of her fingers over her chest. "I am Rainbow Dash, the most athletic out of these damn rich people."
They way her body is shaped, and the way she called me 'dude' sort of explained it before she said it. "That's good to hear," I say. "Ms. Dash, Ms. Sparkle, Ms. Shy—"
"Her name's only one word," Twilight speaks up, flipping yet another page of her book.
"... Ms. Fluttershy," I correct myself. "Nice to meet you." My heart picks up acceleration. I am surprised, almost horrified that it came out so naturally. I suck in a deep breath. "Why don't we take a seat?" I ask, voice quivering as I gesture to the nearest table, the table and the frames of the chairs a light mahogany, with a hot pink velvet sticking from the chairs cushioning.
I sit the girls down, nearly sitting down myself before I realize that we don't have anything to drink. Excusing myself for being so forgetful, I meander toward the preparations table, the closest thing we have to a kitchen. I quickly prepare the 'commoners coffee', a hit with the ladies here, in more or less of a teacup. For some reason, I find the sight funny; I've never really considered the rich drinking coffee. But, apparently they do. A lot.
Whilst scrambling for saucers, I see something white and fuzzy in my peripheral vision, below the table. Curious, I crouch down to meet the gaze of a stuffed bunny, its black eyes looking like a ceaseless void, though the way that the face is structured with the w'd lips strikes some cord in me. This must be Champ's Angel Bunny, I think, reaching a hand out to retrieve it, the texture of the fabric that made the fur feeling good on my soft, lotioned hands. I grab it and hug it to my chest, though hesitant to do so. It's so comfortable I just want to hold it forever. But I know that this was someone else's. Before I call out Champ's name, I feel a tugging on my slacks.
"Oh, you've found Usa...-chan?" That hesitation from Champ was an indication of the light finally snapping on inside his head, his eyes widening as I look down to him.
"Oh, yeah," I say, crouching down to him and handing him his bunny. "He's really cute, by the way."
Champ is still in his daze for a second, then shakes it from his mind. "Yeah, he is!" he exclaims, reassuming a smile.
"Champ-senpai!" calls a voice from the opposite side of the room.
"Coming!" He calls back, glancing back at me once more before going on.
I smile. Never have met such a cute kid upperclassman, I think. Turning back to the table, I resume my original task, grabbing a tray to carry the cups and saucers, clinking together with the plastic as I walk. When I return to the table, I place the china gingerly on the tabletop in front of each of the young ladies, and finally sit myself down at the south end of the table.
"So, how have you ladies' days been going?" I ask, unable to think of any flattering remarks off the bat.
"As per usual," says Rainbow Dash. "Lots of work, too snobby teachers, that kind of stuff."
Twilight sets down her book and raises the cup of coffee to her full lips. "My day's been relatively relaxed," she says, taking a small sip of her coffee. "Nothing but the small advanced tests and trigonometry and all that stuff. Easy."
I feel my jaw start to drop. She'd just named off the hardest subjects in the school... and brushed them off nonchalantly. "That's good to hear," I say. Shifting in my seat I turn my head to Fluttershy. "What about you, miss?"
"A-o-oh," she mumbles. "Uh... I don't know... usual I guess..."
I am barely able to hear what she says, but I nod nonetheless. "I guess days could be worse," I say, acknowledging that I'm going to have to listen more closely to her, and that I'm a horrible gentleman. A few seconds pass before the next words pass, starting with Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle looking at each other and nodding.
"How did you become a Host, by the way?" both of them say in unison. "I mean," Rainbow Dash says, "Any more reasons than the, 'They got a giant bro-rection when they saw me'?"
I open my mouth to say no, but then I realize that I'm still here. I came here without complaining, without anybody reminding me. Even though I'd rather be in other places right now, I did what I was asked to do; become a Host. Yesterday, Blueblood explained that if I get a hundred customers, they will forgive the debt, and very possibly, set me free from my semi-indentured servitude. I need a story, I think, and then it clicks. I know just the one.
"I grew up as a second-class citizen around Mount Fuji," I explain. "My family was very close, even today. Though, I felt my mother was the closest thing I had to a friend back then in an aristocratic environment. We played together, she taught me lots of things, much more than my dad—who is a cross-dresser—ever did.
"But then, when I turned five, she got into a car crash where a shard of glass punctured her jugular artery. The piece of glass miraculously stayed in place, prolonging the bleeding out process. She survived, and she was well for about two weeks. Then, since she inherited sickle cell from her father, she ended up getting a horrible infection that had spread to her esophagus, making it difficult to breathe for her.
"We rushed her to the hospital right away. But, once she was inspected, the infection had spread too far in order for it to be helped. She had one of two options—to prolong her pain to be with her family for her last days by using medication, or to end it as soon as possible. Damningly, she took the latter route." My voice is starting to break apart, the burn of tears stinging behind my eyes. I take a deep breath. "She died three days later of asphyxiation, on the eleventh of November. She was an attorney in law, and wished nothing better than the well-standing of our family. I guess she figured that prolonging her pain would prolong our grief. The last thing she said to me was, 'My darling, you look beautiful.'"
And that's the reason why I do what I do today, I think. Habitually, I wipe my cheek, but I didn't feel any wetness; no tears. I had successfully explained that story... for the first time ever since she died... without breaking out into tears. "And I guess that's why I'm here, to look beautiful, as she would have it."
"Ah, shoot." Rainbow Dash, I can tell, was getting teared up. She shook her head. "That really sucks, man. You have my condolences."
Fluttershy nods.
"It's all right now," I say. "Before she passed, she left for me all the great recipes that she'd created. They were fun to cook, and it always makes me happy when I see my dad enjoy them. We managed to get by, through a rough start of a family." It is a small ending, though it feels as if the anvil on my chest has been lifted. I haven't told anyone about that in a while, and I never intended to ever again. But now, all my previous anxiety has slipped away. I suddenly feel a lot more comfortable with this group. A burst of confidence flares inside me, and I'm ready to talk again.
"Aaanyways, what other things do you like doing?" a question comes from Rainbow Dash.
"And do you have any animals?" asks Fluttershy.
Page flip from Twilight Sparkle, though she seems half-invested in the conversation going on as well.
I smile. "Well, ladies..."
Fifteen. Fifteen customers on the first day. I'm exhausted as all hell, and I can't wait to go home. Though... that was actually quite fun! I mean, I've never thought a social life would be so freeing. So exhilarating. So satisfying. I can't wait for tomorrow, even though the exhaustion is an aspect I don't really care for.
Outside the highschool, I hear someone calling my name. "...ire! Ah, I mean, Mr. S!"
I turn, and, behind me, running to catch up, is Blueblood, short blond hair being blown to the side by the wind. I stop, unlike previous days where I shrug him off. I need to talk to him. I have to. I need to determine whether or not my crush hit a good person. I wave, and he waves back, grappling his knees and gasping for breath when he gets to me.
For some reason, I find this cute. Once again, he annoys the living crap out of me, but... I just can't help it. "You look uber graceful while running," I remark sarcastically, his flailing arms while doing so the basis of the statement.
He laughs heavily, sounding more like coughs than laughs. "I know... right? I... could run... a freaking ma... marathon!"
A smile creeps up my lips. "Unless you are concerned for the welfare of other runners, I wouldn't do it."
He shrugs, where I half expect him to find a corner and cry himself to sleep. "I guess... whew!" He wipes his brow and straightens up, catching his breath. "Anyways, you did really well today. I was going to train you, but it was too tempting to watch you perform under pressure. And, you did really well. Congrats!"
I feel my eye twitch as he says this. "Well, I guess I'm a sort of social person, after all."
"Isn't everybody?" He smiles, but then his expression turns grim. "I heard you during that first one. I just want to say, even though I'm more than ten years late, I'm sorry for your loss."
That statement catches me off guard. I never anticipated a guy like him to say anything like that to anybody, especially since he's so self-centred, and we've only known each other for two and a half weeks. My eyes fall down to the white pavement of the sidewalk, green grass awaiting at either side. "It's all right," I say, my face starting to heat up against my will. "Everything's fine now."
His eyes fall to the pavement too. "Y'know, I get it. Even though my mother isn't deceased... yet, at least."
My eyes shoot up. "Blueblood?"
"My mom," he continues. "Well, my whole family is from France. I came here to Japan... but my mother didn't go. I don't know what's up with her. She was bedridden and deathly ill for a time, but she recovered. But... it sometimes feels like she's dead to me. We haven't met up in a long time... and I wonder why..." He starts choking up, an occurrence that breaks my heart. "I-I wonder why she separates herself from me all the time!" Tears start rolling down his cheeks, and his knees start to buckle. He falls on his knees, and I can tell he's trying to battle the tears.
I don't waste any time. I kneel down and hug him. He draws in a quick gasp as my arms wrap around him, bringing in and distributing the warmth of both our bodies. I hug until his chest stops heaving, and he returns the hug, drawing me in closer. But it is cut short. He slowly backs away from the hug, looking confused. The lightbulb flickers. And it dies again.
"Thank you," he manages, wiping his eyes of tears. "I needed that."
I place my hands on my knees. "I think that goes for us both."
He smiles at me, but there's still a wonderful edge to his expression, as if he's trying to figure out a puzzle he wasn't given the rules to complete. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
I smile and nod. "Yeah. See you." We help one another up, and go our separate ways for the day.
My bag winds up in the pond.
At first, I don't have a clue what went on. This is the first place that I've went to school to that didn't have bullies constantly on me, throwing sexist remarks at me. But I guess aristocrats bullies as well, I think, sighing. I jog my way down the hall, eyes cast on the tile.
But I see a figure pass by to my left. Glossy, almost purple hair. Book in hand.
"Ah, Mr. S. Fancy seeing you here," she says with an angry edge.
"What do you want?" I ask.
"He isn't yours, you know. He will never be. And if you try taking advantage of him, I'll rip your throat out."
"What the hell... what're you talking about?"
She stomps her foot on the ground. "No matter what..." she turns to face me, wire-framed glasses bouncing from the bridge of her nose. "You will always be a second-class citizen!" She storms off in the opposite direction, her high heels clicking on the tile.
I know that's a stupid attempt to make me feel angry, but due to what she did with my bag, I cannot help but scowling.
I hop down the stairs into the main lobby and push out of the double-doors, narrowing my eyes at my stuff in the pond. I let my expression relax and I sigh. I take off my dress shoes, roll up the legs of my slacks and the cuffs of my dress shirt. The pond has a statue, a cupid rather crudely 'peeing' in the water. When I step into the water, I nearly take back my foot in alarm. It was extremely cold. I guess due to it being Springtime, that would be expected.
I toss out my bag, my books, and everything. Except for one thing; my wallet. It was easy to find my stuff, but Twilight might've taken extra care of my wallet by throwing it out separately. My scowl gets more intense. To think that she was my customer yesterday... and she shows random behaviour like this? She said something about someone not being mine... was she talking about Blueblood?
"Hey, commoner."
Speak of the devil.
"You have some nerve skipping out on the club like that," Blueblood says, but then hesitates. "Wha? Why's your bag so wet?"
I wanted to rat out Twilight, but as I remember, she was a constant to Blueblood. If I do so right away, then it would be obvious that we were at each others throats now. "Oh, don't worry, I just... er... I just dropped my bag out the window."
"Ah, really?" By his voice, I can tell that he's not convinced. "What luck..."
I continue to wade my hands through the ice-cold water, feeling for a box-ish leather through the intense reflection of the sky. Again, nothing. As I shift over more to scan that area, I hear a splash of water behind me and a quiver of a voice. I look toward the source of the noise, and to my right, there was Blueblood, searching with me.
"You don't have to do that," I say. "You'll ruin your getup."
"Don't you worry, my little piglet," he insists. "A little water never hurt anyone, after all." He sweeps one hand to the right, and brings it right out. "Ah-hah!" he exclaims. "Got it." He turns to me, a slight smile on his face, in an upturned hand a purple, leather-esque bound bifold container. "Unless someone threw their whole wallet in here for a wish, I assume this is yours?" He tilts his head. "What's wrong? You're just staring off into space." He walks toward me, carrying the wallet between his forefinger and his thumb. "I see, you're falling for me like a rock in water."
I snicker, snapping out of my daze. "Don't get too many ideas, big boy." I say as I snatch my wallet from his hand, zipping it open to ensure I still have everything in there. Fortunately, everything is just fine, just wetter.
Blueblood must have caught my scowl. "Mr. S, what's the matter?"
With a swift flick of the wrist, I zip my wallet closed. "It's just... nothing." I cut myself off from saying what truly happened, as it would make me look indecisive, and effectively, a liar.
Blueblood narrows his eyes. "Y'know, you're a lot more feminine than just your looks." Flicker, flicker. "It must be your charm though." Dead. He smiles at me, and grabs me by the hand. "Come, Mr. S." he says. "We need to return back to the Host club."
I gasp. I've completely forgotten about that. "Yeah..." I manage, the contact we were having making my face feel red hot. Through these thoughts, I hear him laugh in victory as he tugs me out of the pond, and I barely have enough time to gather my things up and put them somewhere I can remember before Blueblood tugs on my arm again.
It only takes a few seconds for us to make it into Music Room 3, hopping up the steps and running down the halls, me barely having enough endurance to make it to the door and no farther. But Blueblood skids into the door, and nearly tackles it down with his momentum when he suddenly stops, and opens the door like a normal person would do, though with a little more pizazz. Though, he stops right in the doorway. I hear a hushed voice speak to him, and I can hear my alias be whispered between them. Blueblood nods and pops more into view.
"Uh," he says. "Someone has requested you, Mr. S. Um..." He leans into the door again, asking, "Are you sure?" and backs into view again. "It's Ms. Twilight Sparkle."
"Ah, that's unfortunate." Twilight Sparkle sips from her cup of coffee, exhaling excess air. "I don't know what I'd do if I had my bag fall into the pond." She has a look on her, a look that reminds me of those soap operas where the antagonist is obviously not hiding his/her scorn.
"It was no problem really," I try not to grunt. "Everything turned out fine in the end. The books got a little smudged but they're still readable." I bite my tongue. If I have to be with this bitch any longer, I think, then I'm going berserk.
"Uh-huh," she says nonchalantly. "I also heard you got Blueblood to do the dirty work as well. You must be quite... enticing in order for that to happen."
I lock my eyes onto the table, trying with all my might to not roll them. I am not going to respond. Any way I could respond she would still continue to enrage me. There would be no way out unless I break character, and that could affect the number of costumers I get in the future. I stab my fingernails into my palms. Stay in character, I command myself.
"Well," she continues, stretching. "Don't feel like he's doing that for you because you're special or anything." She leans on the table even more. "He just wants to exploit you; turn you into his idea of a gentleman. You're his pet, his dog. You will never be anything more." Her expression turns more aggressive. "The thought of you two being together is too fleeting for a second-class citizen."
I look up, feeling lightheaded. "I see," I say, the corners of my eyesight reddening. "You're jealous of me..."
Twilight Sparkle's eyes widen, only seconds to be met with a flying table, and seconds later, I am on top of her, just about to punch her in the face. Only then do I realize what I've done, and that I've fallen into her coup.
"Blueblood!" she yells, almost convincingly. "This young... man has attacked me!" The whole Host Club appears around us, looking glumly down at us... but mostly at her...
"Please do something, Blueblood!" she pleads, "Fire this imbecile, for heaven's sake!"
It only takes a few seconds for the response to happen. Fancy extends his arm to the side, and I brace for the worst.
Splash!
"Fa—!" Blueblood's voice chimes. Then he groans. "I guess that's one way to solve this problem."
Twilight and I are soaking wet, the chilliness of the water seeping into the suit. I'm trying to decide if there was a deeper meaning to a possible joke, but I don't think about it any longer, not to focus on anger, but shock.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," clicks Blueblood. "I expected better from you, Twilight." He narrows his eyes. "You're the one who threw Mr. S's bag in the pond, aren't you?"
Twilight's face goes slack, the color draining from it all the same. "I... I don't know what you're talking about, honey. You heard it yourself; he accidentally dropped it into the pond! No harm was done there!"
Blueblood's eyes narrowed even further.
She growls under me. "Well, somebody had to show him who's boss! He's a second-class citizen. A peasant! You can't be attracted to the likes of him! It will ruin your reputation!"
Blueblood huffs. "But, haven't you already ruined yours by lying in front of the victim, and bystanders?"
Twilight's skin goes even paler. "Bystanders?"
"Isn't this climactic," Fancy remarks, stroking his chin mischievously. "Well, not that any of this is my business, but Champ wanted someone to hold onto his stuffed animal. He followed Mr. S, and soon enough, discovered the evil plot himself."
"No!" Champ stomps his foot on the ground. "Bad Twilight!"
Twilight goes limp under me, laying her head in the wet puddle on the tile. "I..." Her bottom lip starts quivering.
Blueblood clears his throat, frowning. "Ms. Twilight Sparkle. You are hereby banned from ever participating in the Host Club. Ta-ta, miss."
She looks dumbstruck, as if someone told her a death sentence. Then her expression turns harsh, and she pushes me off of her, pointing a finger at me. "You may think you won this time, Mr. S, but I swear to heaven, the next time I see you, I will rip you to pieces!" She storms off, slamming the door behind her.
"Now!" Blueblood announces, clapping his hands together. "To resume with punishments."
All my respect for Blueblood hangs on a hinge. "What?" I ask.
"You did attack the lady," ... Big Mac states? "A very ungentlemanly way to go about it, no doubt." He has a country accent, distinct, but still somehow proper.
My shoulders slump. "I see..." I mumble. "Lay it on me, I guess."
Blueblood seems surprised. "Okay... I never thought that I'd get this far, but..." he strokes his chin thoughtfully, mouthing words under his breath, and then he snaps his fingers. "Your customer limit will be raised. You must attract one thousand customers before we forgive you of your debt!"
I sink into the floor. "One thousand..." I repeat, my heart sinking, but not too much. "Not a problem," I decide.
Blueblood raises an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Dude, I love this job!" I say, smiling. "One thousand customers shouldn't be much of a problem, right?"
Blueblood shrugs. "I guess not," he agrees. Then he looks at my uniform, relatively new, and he frowns. "You need to change out of that uniform. We only have one more, so don't do anything stupid with that one." He turns a cheek away jokingly.
I smile. "I won't."
Back in the changing room, I'm glad I'm here.
To give my honest opinion, I'm glad things turned out the way they did. And I thought that I was going to hate this temporary-ish occupation. I've grown more attached to the Host Club and their customers. I love the atmosphere, as it isn't a hellish working environment. Everything is good, and I can't wait until I start again.
Then the curtain opens behind me. "All right, little piglet, you're taking too long. Anything I can help you wi—" His voice just stops as he sees me in my undershirt, pulling on a dress. For that moment, he couldn't stop looking at my chest, dubstruck. Then he calmly closes the curtains. I slide my dress on the rest of the way, and I rush out to meet them in my own attire. Blueblood stands only inches away from me, the audience around me nodding, smiling as if to say, "I knew it!"
"Spitfire..." he starts, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you a girl?"
I sigh, and hand him my wallet, which has dried ever since the whole mishap took place. "Biologically, yes. Remember the part that I said my dad was a cross-dresser? I sorta take that from him." I close my eyes and shrug. "But, to me, sex has nothing to do with relations. It's what's inside that counts. Don't you agree, Blueblood?"
All I can see is a blank expression from him. Then his eyes widen, and his face starts turning red... and redder... and so red I'm so sure that there's flesh burning under his face.
I turn from them, stroking my chin. "Hm, so if I'm subject to one thousand customers, how should I start with my alias..." I punch my upturned palm. "I got it! Maybe... maybe I'll just call everybody 'dude' and 'bro' now..." Then something builds up inside of my, wanting to be released since the beginning of this job. A laugh... a laugh out of the annoyances and the stress I underwent over the past few days. As it grows in volume, I know that from now on, things will be hellishly awkward and, well, fun.