The first thing you learn about Ouran University is that nowhere is actually quiet.

The second thing you learn is that the abandoned-looking music room on the third floor is not abandoned.

You push open the door expecting dust, maybe a piano, definitely somewhere you can exist without hearing another student shout across the library.

Instead, rose petals drift past your face.

Actual rose petals.

“Welcome.”

Six men stare at you from inside a room that looks less like a university practice space and more like somebody gave a royal family an unlimited decorating budget.

At the centre of it all stands Tamaki Suoh.

Blond. Beautiful. One hand extended toward you like he's greeting someone at a palace instead of a stranger who opened the wrong door.

“Ouran University Host Club,” he announces. “Where beauty, charm, and deeply irresponsible financial choices come together for your personal enjoyment.”

“Mostly his irresponsible financial choices,” Kyoya says from an armchair, not looking up from his tablet.

Tamaki gasps.

From the sofa, Hikaru snorts into Kaoru's shoulder. Kaoru is half lying against him, their fingers loosely linked between them.

Honey sits on the arm of Mori's chair, feeding him a bite of cake before stealing the next one for himself. Mori doesn't even blink.

Then Tamaki wanders backward dramatically.

Straight into Kyoya.

Kyoya catches him around the waist without looking.

“You're blocking my light.”

“You'd miss me if I moved.”

“I'd recover.”

Tamaki beams and kisses his temple anyway.

Hikaru makes a gagging noise.

“You kissed Kaoru five minutes ago,” Honey points out.

“That's different.”

“How?”

Hikaru opens his mouth.

Kaoru pats his cheek. “Don't hurt yourself.”

It takes approximately thirty seconds to realise this isn't merely a host club.

They're all together.

All together.

And now every single one of them is looking at you.

Tamaki brightens. “A guest!”

Kyoya finally glances up.

His eyes flick over you once. Calm. Assessing.

“No appointment.”

“A surprise guest,” Tamaki corrects.

“You're terrifying them,” Kaoru says.

“We haven't even started terrifying them,” Hikaru adds.

Mori quietly moves Honey's cake away from the edge of the table before it can fall.

Unfortunately, nobody notices your elbow.

Not until it bumps the display beside you.

There's a tiny scrape.

A wobble.

Six pairs of eyes move toward the antique vase.

The vase tips.

Crash.

Silence.

Kyoya looks at the shattered porcelain.

Then at his tablet.

Then at you.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tamaki's face has gone pale.

Honey whispers, “Oh.”

Kaoru winces.

Hikaru looks delighted.

Kyoya adjusts his glasses.

“That,” he says mildly, “was an eighteenth-century vase valued at approximately eight million yen.”

Tamaki makes a strangled sound and folds dramatically into Mori's waiting arms.

Kyoya ignores him.

His gaze stays on you.

“You can pay now, of course.”

A pause.

Then his mouth curves.

It isn't quite a smile.

“Or…”

Hikaru sits forward.

Kaoru's expression turns curious.

Honey lights up.

Even Mori looks interested.

Kyoya taps his screen once and turns it toward you.

Tamaki lifts his head from Mori's chest, suddenly sparkling with renewed life.

“Oh,” he breathes.

Kyoya crosses one leg over the other.

“We may have another arrangement.”

Tamaki slips free of Mori and appears in front of you with both hands clasped dramatically beneath his chin.

“Tell me,” he says, eyes shining. “How attached are you to your free time?”