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Description
Requested by Ashley0425~

||Then, you learned your first lesson. There was no such thing as love. There was such a thing as mutual benefit. And using people. But not love.||

“Sorry.”

“Ah, sorry.”

“Excuse me, sorry.”

You were starting to think that maybe the only word you knew how to say was “sorry.” You didn’t feel like you belonged at Ouran Highschool. Or around people in general. It didn’t help that your family was extremely rich, leading to people wanting to befriend you – for the money and connections, of course. People eventually learned to give you space, but it wasn’t that you wanted space. You just wanted somebody to talk to, somebody who understood how much you hated the world of the rich where everything just had to be prim and proper.

You weren’t always this afraid of the world, not until your mother left your father when the business wasn’t doing so well. Then, you learned your first lesson. There was no such thing as love. There was such a thing as mutual benefit. And using people. But not love.
You accidentally bump into a guy, and you gaze up into his dark eyes.

“…sorry,” you whisper. You see a smile on his face as he strikes up a conversation with you.

“(f/n) (l/n), right?” You nod slowly. “I’m Kyoya, Kyoya Ootori. Would you like to come and check out a club? It’s a ton of fun, I promise.”

You blush at his intense stare, unsure of how to answer, when your cell phone buzzes. It’s a text from your big brother – he needed to use all the limos. All of them. You curtly nod, deciding to kill some time instead of wait idly for your brother.

People only wanted money, something you would never inherit because you were the youngest. Your second lesson: you were not as important as you thought you were. You didn’t do so well in school. You started putting on some weight. Everyone seemed to be getting prettier and more successful, while you were, wasting away in front of your computer screen, reading fanfictions of your favorite anime characters.

The double doors to a room opens, revealing a bunch of attractive guys on the couch, dressed as… your favorite characters from (favorite anime/tv show/whatever can be cosplayed)! You have to suppress a squeal. Calm. Calm. Down. You glare at Kyoya, questions in your eyes, but he doesn’t answer.

“Weeeeelcome to the host club! Are you looking for romance and love? You’re in the right place!” A blonde skips up to you.

“Host… club…?” As it slowly dawns on you what kind of place you have just entered, your cheeks darken. Host club. For women to get doted on. Another place to find fake love. And you turn to the door.

“Now, now, (l/n)-san, let’s not get hasty. These characters are your favorites, aren’t they?” Kyoya slyly drawls.

“T-they’re not,” you stutter.

This denial was a result of lesson three. Different people are not accepted. If you’re different, just shut up and stay out of the way, or else people will target you, push you down.

“Hey, it’s okay!” the blonde exclaims, “It’s just something you like, right?”
You blush as you back up against the door. “I-I’ve got to go…” but Kyoya has a firm grip on your shoulder. Your phone buzzes again. A short next from your brother – ‘Our stepmom left.’ Your shoulders drop as you feel your eyes fill up. You didn’t need another person to use your family. You didn’t want this anymore. You didn’t even like her anyways.
You turn around and burst through the door, sitting against the wall right next to the double doors, unable to run any further. You can’t help but overhear the conversation occurring between someone and Kyoya inside the room.

“So your dad got mad at you for being in the host club again, huh.”

“…”

“Should you even be trying so hard to inherit the company? You’re the youngest child.”

“Which means that I need to work that much harder.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“Of course not.”

The door opens as Kyoya walks out to see a wide-eyed you, (e/c) eyes glimmering.

“Did you hear all of that?” he asks sharply.

You nod slowly as he scowls. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Kyoya turns to you, confused.

“I thought I was the only one who was struggling… to become something… in this world… so… thank you,” you blush, still on the verge of tears. You reach out to Kyoya. He crouches next to you and runs his fingers through your hair. “You’re never alone,” Kyoya mutters, and you lean against his chest. Kyoya – the only person who has seen you in such a state. Kyoya – the only person who really understood what you were going through. Kyoya – the person who turned your life upside down.

This is when you learn you fourth lesson. Maybe you were wrong all these years.

Description
Requested by Ashley0425~

||Then, you learned your first lesson. There was no such thing as love. There was such a thing as mutual benefit. And using people. But not love.||

“Sorry.”

“Ah, sorry.”

“Excuse me, sorry.”

You were starting to think that maybe the only word you knew how to say was “sorry.” You didn’t feel like you belonged at Ouran Highschool. Or around people in general. It didn’t help that your family was extremely rich, leading to people wanting to befriend you – for the money and connections, of course. People eventually learned to give you space, but it wasn’t that you wanted space. You just wanted somebody to talk to, somebody who understood how much you hated the world of the rich where everything just had to be prim and proper.

You weren’t always this afraid of the world, not until your mother left your father when the business wasn’t doing so well. Then, you learned your first lesson. There was no such thing as love. There was such a thing as mutual benefit. And using people. But not love.
You accidentally bump into a guy, and you gaze up into his dark eyes.

“…sorry,” you whisper. You see a smile on his face as he strikes up a conversation with you.

“(f/n) (l/n), right?” You nod slowly. “I’m Kyoya, Kyoya Ootori. Would you like to come and check out a club? It’s a ton of fun, I promise.”

You blush at his intense stare, unsure of how to answer, when your cell phone buzzes. It’s a text from your big brother – he needed to use all the limos. All of them. You curtly nod, deciding to kill some time instead of wait idly for your brother.

People only wanted money, something you would never inherit because you were the youngest. Your second lesson: you were not as important as you thought you were. You didn’t do so well in school. You started putting on some weight. Everyone seemed to be getting prettier and more successful, while you were, wasting away in front of your computer screen, reading fanfictions of your favorite anime characters.

The double doors to a room opens, revealing a bunch of attractive guys on the couch, dressed as… your favorite characters from (favorite anime/tv show/whatever can be cosplayed)! You have to suppress a squeal. Calm. Calm. Down. You glare at Kyoya, questions in your eyes, but he doesn’t answer.

“Weeeeelcome to the host club! Are you looking for romance and love? You’re in the right place!” A blonde skips up to you.

“Host… club…?” As it slowly dawns on you what kind of place you have just entered, your cheeks darken. Host club. For women to get doted on. Another place to find fake love. And you turn to the door.

“Now, now, (l/n)-san, let’s not get hasty. These characters are your favorites, aren’t they?” Kyoya slyly drawls.

“T-they’re not,” you stutter.

This denial was a result of lesson three. Different people are not accepted. If you’re different, just shut up and stay out of the way, or else people will target you, push you down.

“Hey, it’s okay!” the blonde exclaims, “It’s just something you like, right?”
You blush as you back up against the door. “I-I’ve got to go…” but Kyoya has a firm grip on your shoulder. Your phone buzzes again. A short next from your brother – ‘Our stepmom left.’ Your shoulders drop as you feel your eyes fill up. You didn’t need another person to use your family. You didn’t want this anymore. You didn’t even like her anyways.
You turn around and burst through the door, sitting against the wall right next to the double doors, unable to run any further. You can’t help but overhear the conversation occurring between someone and Kyoya inside the room.

“So your dad got mad at you for being in the host club again, huh.”

“…”

“Should you even be trying so hard to inherit the company? You’re the youngest child.”

“Which means that I need to work that much harder.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“Of course not.”

The door opens as Kyoya walks out to see a wide-eyed you, (e/c) eyes glimmering.

“Did you hear all of that?” he asks sharply.

You nod slowly as he scowls. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Kyoya turns to you, confused.

“I thought I was the only one who was struggling… to become something… in this world… so… thank you,” you blush, still on the verge of tears. You reach out to Kyoya. He crouches next to you and runs his fingers through your hair. “You’re never alone,” Kyoya mutters, and you lean against his chest. Kyoya – the only person who has seen you in such a state. Kyoya – the only person who really understood what you were going through. Kyoya – the person who turned your life upside down.

This is when you learn you fourth lesson. Maybe you were wrong all these years.