The moment the choice leaves your lips, a ripple passes through the room. The twins exchange gleeful looks. Honey muffles a giggle behind his fork.

Tamaki collapses into a heap of theatrical despair, mourning the tragic loss of your company to the “cold embrace of calculation.”

Kyoya doesn’t so much as smile. He simply closes his notebook, tucks his pen away, and gestures toward a smaller, more private table in the corner.

“Shall we?”

You follow him past the soft chatter and clinking teacups, your footsteps hushed against the thick carpet. The table he’s chosen is set apart from the others — less of a stage, more of an observation deck. From here, you can see everything: the way Tamaki leans too close, the mischievous sync of the twins, the swirl of skirts and the flutter of hands around delicate porcelain.

Kyoya gestures for you to take the seat opposite him. His smile is polite but unreadable, the kind of expression that gives nothing away and makes you wonder what he sees in return.

“First time in the Host Club.” He says, more a statement than a question.

You nod.

“And you came here…” He lets the words trail off, watching you over the gleam of his glasses.

“…to kill time.”

It isn’t an accusation, but the precision of it makes you blink. You hadn’t said that aloud.

He doesn’t seem surprised by your reaction.

“You looked at your watch twice before Tamaki approached you, but never at the clock on the wall. You sat with your coat still buttoned for three minutes before loosening it. And…”

He tilts his head slightly.

“…you chose the tea you thought would take the longest to drink.”

You exhale, a quiet, disbelieving laugh slipping out before you can stop it. “You keep score on everyone like this?”

“Only the ones who don’t come here for the tea.”

His gaze is steady, a faint curve at the corner of his mouth like he knows exactly how unnerving he is.

A server sets down a fresh cup for you. Kyoya doesn’t touch his. He’s content to let the conversation hang in the air, letting you feel the weight of his attention.

It’s not flirtation, not exactly. It’s a challenge.

And you realize that, without meaning to, you’ve stopped thinking about the time.