I sit in the waiting area with the other performers. Considering my last name, I'll go on somewhere near the end. So much waiting, so much watching.

And even though this music hall was renowned for its talented performers and rich founders, these chairs could not be any more cheap and uncomfortable. My face scrunches as I fidget to find a decent position.

My parents, who had been chatting up the other parents and dawdling administrators, stroll up to me out of the blue. Or maybe they were there all along and I just hadn't heard them.

"Are you nervous, sweetheart?" my mother signs.

I smile slightly. "Just bad chairs," I sign back.

Her shoulders shake with laughter and my father grins. "I would be surprised if you were, Suzume. You've got nerves of steel, don't you?"

I shrug it off, and he pats my head in response. Mother glances over her shoulder quickly and turns back to me, signing, "The other parents are beginning to leave to the audience area. Will you be fine on your own?"

I nod. Still, I can see the reluctance to leave flash in those emerald eyes of hers. The same ones I have.

I open my mouth to reassure her, but Father beats me to it, saying something along the lines of: "Suzume said she's fine. We have to believe her."

Without my father, who knows what kind of worrying mess my mother would be. As he escorts her out she shoots me a concerned look. I return it with a reassuring smile and wave.

Contestant after contestant waddle out the doors leading to the wings within minutes. After about three have gone and come back with buckling knees or fumbling hands, I take that as a sign to go put in my hearing aid. I grab my cello out from under the seat and head to the bathroom.

It doesn't take long to fit it inside my right ear and set it to full sound.

I study myself in the mirror. The only problem I can find are the bags under my eyes. We had just arrived in Japan from America hours ago, and it was not settling well with my sleeping schedule at all.

I pluck my cello from against the wall and push past the door.

Even with my hearing aid in, the room is just as silent as when I couldn't hear anything. The only difference is the echo of music flooding in from the stage.

Now I wait. There weren't too many of us to start with but now there are only four left, myself included. I take in the other contestants' pieces as easily as oxygen. I can spot their mistakes—a missing chord, the wrong note. They must be incredibly nervous.

Perhaps I should be, too. But I love playing too much to let nerves get to me. And it doesn't matter if I place well enough to win a scholarship to Ouran. I would still be attending despite it. Unlike some of the other candidates, my family has the money to do so.

I only entered because I thought it would be nice to work for something instead of having it given to me because of my name.

"Contestant #9, Ootori Suzume, please come to the stage," a man calls over the intercom.

I walk to the wings, cello in hand, and across the stage. I bow to the observing administrators and spot my mother waving crazily in the crowd, and my father trying to calm her down with little luck.

I sit, smiling to myself, and begin to play.

—Two Months Later—

Mother puckers her lips as she stares at my uniform. "Does it really have to be such a God awful color?"

I yawn as she tugs at the skirt. It's too early to be awake, let alone going to school.

Mother asks, "Are you sure you don't want to go to Lobelia?"

I laugh and reply, "Just because of the uniform?"

"Do you actually like it?" Her eyes bulge.

"Of course not. But I'm not going to switch schools because of it."

"I would. Plus, you would love Lobelia! I went there, you know?"

We've had this conversation a million times and I'm not even surprised that we're having it again. Mother had taken it a bit personally when I chose Ouran, my father's school, over Lobelia Girls' Academy.

Time and time again I explain to her that I only chose Ouran because its music program is slightly better compared to Lobelia's, but it just doesn't seem to stick with her. She always comes back around to the same phrase:

"You're just attending Ouran because of the cute boys, aren't you?"

I know she's joking whenever that runs from her mouth, but I could read her like the back of my hand. I know somewhere deep down it's a true curiosity of hers.

"I know you did, Mother. But it has already been decided, unless you want to phone Father and explain to him that you're pulling me out before the year's even started."

She slouches, knowing I'm right, and leads me to the black Mercedes parked out front. When Kenta, the family chauffer, spots us he trudges up to me and takes my cello and backpack from my hands. I nod at him and he nods back, then goes to put it in the car's trunk.

"Now listen," Mother says, turning me back to her. "According to your father, you're going to be in the same class as your cousin, Kyoya. You remember him, don't you?"

Vaguely. I assume he looks like everyone else who's born into the Ootori family—black hair, dark eyes, pale skin. The name does ring some bells, so I've probably seen him at parties or heard about some wonderful feat he managed to accomplish. But since I don't remember him, I can't imagine we were ever close.

Ha. Like anyone in this family is.

"He already knows you're here. Keep close to him, so he can keep an eye on you."

In other words: "He already knows you're here. Cling onto him like a helpless puppy so I don't have to claw my face off worrying about you even though I'm going to worry about you no matter what you do."

I give my best smile and say, "Yes, Mother."

She pets my head gently and pushes strands behind my ear. It would seem loving and affectionate to anyone else, but she's pulled this trick a thousand times. I sigh as she pulls my hair back into place.

"Don't sigh at me," she wiggles a finger. "I know how much you hate wearing it, so sue me for making sure you are. One of your uncles made that hearing aid especially for you. It's top of the line, and do you know how upset they'll be to hear that you're not putting it to use?"

Meaning: "It's top of the line, and do you know how much crap your father will get if the rest of the family hears any nonsense of his deaf daughter refusing to use a device we got for free?"

I know she doesn't really mean for me to interpret her this way, that what she says is what she honestly means, but I know our family. And I'm well aware of how they view my parents and I, specifically.

My father isn't of the main Ootori branch, meaning anything he inherits won't be nearly as monumental as what he would if he was. It doesn't bother him much, he says he'd rather not have to deal with all that responsibility, but I'm not sure if that's just what he says because he really means it or if it's just a truth he's accepted because he knows it'll never happen.

Because that's all every one of my relatives care about. Mostly money, then the success of one company's head compared to the next, and finally how successful each company's heir is compared to the next. Everything is a competition, and only if you can afford to run the race.

"Promise me you'll keep it in like you're supposed to?"

I nod and she wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace. "Enjoy your first day, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you, too."

She shoos me away afterward, excitement clear as day, and waves. "I should be home by the time you get back!"

Kenta opens the car door with a tiny grin, knowing how embarrassed I get when she does stuff like that, and offers, "Relax, young miss. You'll be fine."

I smile, "Of course. What could possibly go wrong."

It was not a question at all and Kenta knows it very well. If I were to say something like that to my mother she would frown and scold me, but Kenta only grins wider. He shuts the door with that and goes to start the engine.

—

The only reaction I have when I arrive before the school is to sigh. Who makes a school pink? Not that I have anything personal against pink but really? Pink…for a school?

Even Kenta gives it a second look before handing me my things.

"There's your schedule, a map of the school, all your textbooks, and a phone placed inside."

"Does the phone already my parents' numbers in it?" Kenta nods. "And yours?"

Kenta's my favorite among our serving staff. He's been with us since forever and treats me as an equal, compared to the doting and squealing maids that roam our house.

Plus, I like how contradicting his appearance is to his job. No one would ever expect a burly man of his stature to drive a car for a living. Professional kickboxing, maybe.

He smiles at the question. "Of course, young miss. I shall be here ten minutes before clubs end to drive you home. Is there anything else before I go?"

I shake my head no. "Have a nice day, Kenta."

He bows until I start toward the school. There aren't too many students here yet and I glance at a grandfather clock over in a corner. 7:25 AM. The opening ceremony doesn't begin until 8 AM.

I flip the bag open and find the map first thing. I locate the music room on the third level and head towards it. It takes a while to figure out exactly how to get to the room, but I manage soon enough.

Though the room doesn't look as I would imagine it to, this is Ouran—maybe all their rooms are this extravagant. I dislike the idea of leaving my cello unwatched for so long but there was no way I'd be lugging it with me all day, so all I can do is lay it in a corner and exit swiftly through the door.

From the map, I note that the auditorium is back on the first level and descend the flights of stairs to it. When I arrive inside, I see a large amount of students have already filed in. The clock over the stage reads 7:50 AM. I give a sigh of relief; I may not care about appearances but I don't want start the year by being late.

I find the seat marked with my name and sit. Oh, the joys of waiting are endless.

"Suzume, correct?"

I look to my side. The chair had previously been empty, so I don't know when he came to occupy it. Then again, the seat is on my left—the ear I'm completely deaf in.

His steel eyes bore into me as he holds out a hand. "I'm your cousin, Kyoya."

He has the same glint in his eyes that all the members of our family do. His smile isn't as double-sided as I thought it'd be, at least. I swallow down my wariness and shake is hand gently.

"A pleasure to see you again."

So I rewatched Ouran and had this idea stuck in my head for two days and finally gave in. I wrote it but what's the point of that if it isn't going to be shared? And here were are now! So if it looks like you guys are giving this a warm welcome I'll keep updating, otherwise I might just scrap it.

Anyway, thanks for reading~!

TTFN