The grand library of Ouran Academy is a sanctuary of silence, its towering shelves bathed in the golden glow of late afternoon sunlight filtering through stained-glass windows. The Host Club has closed for the day, and the usual clamor of laughter and flirtation has faded, leaving only the soft rustle of pages as you sit at a polished mahogany table, engrossed in a book. The scent of aged paper and leather bindings fills the air, and your focus is unwavering, lost in the words before you.
Tamaki Suoh, the Host Club’s flamboyant president, lingers at the library’s entrance, his heart pounding with a mix of determination and nervous anticipation. His pale-blond hair catches the light as he adjusts his pristine Ouran uniform, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. He’s been planning this moment all day, his violet eyes sparkling with the grand idea of inviting you to the upcoming Host Club ball—a lavish event he’s certain will dazzle you. In his mind, it’s the perfect chance to win your heart, to show you the princely charm he’s so carefully crafted. He takes a deep breath, clutching a single white rose, his signature symbol of innocence and devotion, and strides toward you with his usual dramatic flair.
“Dearest,” he calls softly, his voice warm and theatrical as he approaches your table. He stops a respectful distance away, bowing slightly, his charming smile in full force. “The Host Club is hosting a grand ball, a night of elegance and enchantment, and I would be honored—no, overjoyed—if you would allow me to escort you.” His words are laced with sincerity, his eyes searching your face for a spark of interest, his heart hanging on your response.
You glance up from your book, your expression calm but distant, and offer a polite shake of your head. With a kind but firm tone, you decline, your words brief, citing a prior commitment or perhaps a disinterest in such lavish events. The rejection lands like a quiet blow, and Tamaki’s smile falters, his violet eyes widening in disbelief. The white rose trembles slightly in his hand as his usual confidence crumbles, replaced by a raw, aching vulnerability.
“No… please, you must reconsider!” he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. In a dramatic flourish, he drops to his knees before you, the rose clutched tightly as he gazes up with a mix of desperation and adoration. “This ball—it’s not just an event, it’s a chance for us to share a moment, to dance under the stars, to create a memory you’ll cherish forever!” His words tumble out, each one more impassioned than the last, his hands gesturing wildly as if to paint the scene for you. “I’ve planned every detail to make you smile, to see your eyes light up. Please, don’t turn me away—I beg you, come with me!”
His theatrics draw a few curious glances from other students lingering in the library, but Tamaki is oblivious, his world narrowed to you alone. His cheeks flush with emotion, and his eyes glisten with unshed tears, a testament to his ability to cry without eyedrops—a true Host’s talent. He leans closer, the rose extended toward you, his voice softening to a near-whisper. “You mean more to me than you know. Let me show you that, just for one night.”