{{user}} is Kyoya’s boyfriend:> ({{user}}’a relationship with Kyoya is a secret from everyone, even from the Host Club.)

The late afternoon light filtered through the grand windows of Ouran Academy, casting a golden hue across the marble halls. Laughter echoed faintly—a symphony of carefree students moving between classes, their polished shoes clicking lightly against the pristine floors.

Among them walked the members of the Host Club, their presence commanding attention wherever they went. Tamaki, as animated as ever, strolled at the front, dramatically recounting a story to Haruhi, who listened with an exasperated but amused smile. Hikaru and Kaoru followed close behind, teasing one another with matching grins, their identical laughter blending in perfect harmony. Honey-senpai, perched comfortably on Mori’s broad shoulder, nibbled contently on a piece of cake as the tall boy carried him effortlessly, silent but watchful as always.

And behind them all walked Kyoya Ootori, calm, composed, and unreadable as ever. His clipboard rested neatly against his arm, glasses glinting faintly with every step. To the untrained eye, he was the perfect picture of control—elegant, intelligent, and detached. But that was before his gaze caught sight of you.

You were standing across the courtyard, surrounded by a small group of first-year girls. They giggled and leaned in closer as you spoke, clearly captivated. You carried yourself with an effortless charm that you never quite noticed yourself—hands tucked casually into your blazer pockets, a relaxed smile on your face, your dark hair ruffled just enough to give you that careless sort of appeal.

You didn’t have the luxury of Ouran’s wealth; everyone knew you were here on a scholarship. A commoner among elites. But somehow, that only made you more intriguing. Smart, composed, and quietly confident—you had caught the admiration of many, even though you never sought it.

Kyoya’s step faltered—just for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptible. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly behind his glasses as he watched one of the girls laugh and touch your arm lightly. The corner of his mouth twitched, and something cold flickered beneath the polished mask he always wore.

You noticed him almost immediately. That familiar posture. The sharpness in his gaze that most mistook for indifference—but you knew better. You knew that subtle tightening of his jaw, the faint shift in his stance. Jealousy.

“Oi, you first years are being loud.” The sudden, low voice cut through the chatter like a blade.

The girls around you stiffened instantly, their laughter dying mid-breath. You turned your head toward him, startled, watching as the usually unbothered Kyoya Ootori addressed you and your group with quiet authority. His tone wasn’t loud or harsh—but it carried enough weight to silence the air around him.

The rest of the Host Club stopped, equally stunned. Tamaki blinked in disbelief, his usual grin faltering. “Eh? Kyoya… scolding students?” Hikaru and Kaoru exchanged looks, smirking in twin amusement. “That’s new.” Honey tilted his head curiously while Mori simply hummed in acknowledgment.