Ouran Infiltrated, Chapter 23 - And the Band Played On
Saturday passes as all Saturdays do; with hours blurring together as I read various books I'd stashed inside my mattress, wedged in between springs. I practice languages for a while, study, and do homework until Rio bursts into my room wearing nothing but a silk robe.
"Akira, we're leaving for the party in an hour," my sister says, brimming with happiness.
"Wonderful," I say, voice dripping with malcontent. Rio scrunched up her nose at me. "Go put on some pants," I suggest. She saunters out with all the grace of a supermodel.
I sigh, placing down my pencil, and abandon my English adverbs. I go to my closet and rifle through the three dresses I have hanging there. Mother would want me to wear the golden one, but that's cut too low for comfort. Father would probably like the black one, but that makes me look like I'm going to a funeral. The last and most obvious one is red, but Rio says red isn't my color. She'd tease me all night if I wore it. I just can't win.
I pick up a small compact mirror from my nightstand and study my face with it. My eyes are my best feature and I want to throw whatever good looks I may have straight at my Father's face, but I don't have a dress like that.
Yes, I do! The one I wore to the Host ball! It's a big "screw you" to my father, a symbol that I don't really need him. I throw the mirror on the bed and attack my closet, searching for the paper bag I know I'd shoved in there, hoping my family wouldn't find it and take it. I spot the bag and drag it out. Sure enough, the beautiful dress and brushed golden shoes sit there, waiting. I put it on, still admiring the way it makes me look... Pretty. As pretty as Rio. I daresay maybe even more.
"Mistress Akira?" A maid knocks.
"Yes?" I call.
"Your mother and father want you at the entrance hall."
"Thank you," I say, jumping up and practically running to the entry hall. Mother and Father are already there, Mother glittering with makeup and Father stern and cold as ever.
"What the devil are you wearing, girl?" Father asks, growling.
"A dress," I say, feinting innocence.
"Can't you wear one we bought for you with our own money?" Mother accuses.
"I thought you wanted me to look my best, Mother," I say, already striding across the hall and to the door.
The car ride is uneventful. When we reach the party, the driver stops at the door. I, of course, get out last and follow my happy family across the sidewalk and up the stairs to the mansion. Mother, Father, and Rio are immediately swallowed up by a group of people in dazzling outfits. I, not being one for crowded places, make my way to the refreshment table to get a drink for my already dry throat.
I seat myself on the floor, punch in hand, and watch the party go by. My sister is already dancing with a boy about her age, Mother and Father chatting with a group of various aristocracy, and I just sit in the corner next to the refreshment table, ignoring the strange looks I get from anyone who sees me. I'm pretty well hidden behind a silly tablecloth and layers of shadow. I watch two pairs of feet approach from under the table, and their conversation reaches me.
"Yuuichi, Father told me he found a bride for you, and you'll meet her here," the first one says.
"I am aware," the second says.
"Isn't it wonderful? Your new bride is somewhere in this room right now!"
"Yes," the second one sighs. "I already told you, I am aware."
"You're no fun," the first one pouts.
"Fun doesn't run a company, Akito," the second retorts.
"Father is so uptight. You and Kyoya, too. Just have a little fun while you're here?"
Kyoya? Then it hits me. Kyoya, I know, has two older brothers. Could this be them? Could he actually be here? I risk a peek from under the table. Sure enough, black hair, pale skin, and steel eyes greet me in both young men. They really favor one another, especially the younger.
I plastic cup falls inches from my nose, and a hand follows directly after it. Then comes a face, and the middle Ootori brother is inches away from me. I expect him to scream in surprise or something, but his lips quirk up and he grins.
"Hi. Why are you under a table?" Akito Ootori asks me. My tongue feels like rubber in my mouth. He offers me a hand up and I take it, crawling out from my hiding place and blinking in the party.
"I- I- uh, hiding," I stammer. Akito releases my hand.
"I'm Akito Ootori," he bows comically. "You're really cute. What's your name?"
"A- Akira Helleusa."
"Ah, Helleusa Publishing. I've heard of you," Yuuichi Ootori interjects. "You're a friend of Kyoya's, from that club."
"Yes," I say, staring at the floor.
"Yuuichi, Akito, there you are. I was just speaking to-," Kyoya walks up behind his brothers and cuts himself off abruptly. "Akira?"
"Hello, Kyoya," I greet. I was right! He is here! At least this party won't be completely unbearable now.
"Kyoya, we found her under a table. You should really take better care of your friends," Akito states.
"I didn't expect you to be here," Kyoya states, cool as always.
"I could say the same for you."
"I suppose you could." There's a pause. I brush my feet on the floor. "Would you like to dance?"
"What?" I say, surprised. "I mean, sure."
Kyoya takes my hand and leads me away from the wall. He places one hand on my back and catches the other with his own. For a moment, my dread and the pain in my wrist is all gone. For a moment, I am free.
I catch the lyrics to the song we're dancing to and smile. It fits us.
He whirled 'cross the floor
With the girl he adored
And the band played on.
His brain was so loaded it nearly exploded
And the poor girl would quake with alarm.
"Akira," I hear my name said cold and harsh. A shiver wracked my spine and my feet stop moving. I turn, my hand lifting from Kyoya's shoulder, but our clasped hands stay just that.
"Yes, Father?"
"If you'd stop your foolish displays of false romance," Anger boils in a blush on my cheeks and Kyoya squeezes my hand. "There's someone I want you to meet."
"Okay, sir," I agree, and reluctantly slip my hand from my friend's. My father turns briskly away and leads me from the dance floor. I cast a glance over my shoulder for a reassuring wave or a small smile from Kyoya, but he's already gone.