Sometimes

Sometimes, he found it hard to believe.

That this club, this entire setup had been just some crazy idea (wasn't everything a crazy idea?) proposed one winter evening. It had taken perhaps five minutes to work out the rough idea, and then a further discussion on the possibilities, but even so…

What do you say?

Sleep talking while you're awake, he'd replied, half in jest, half thinking, because there were really some possibilities he could see in the idea, ridiculous as it sounded. A Host Club, where rich male students with time on their hands provided entertainment to rich female students with much to offer.

Family connections. Networking. Social links to other prestigious families, and much, much more.

I've already thought about who we can get to join us.

He had started keeping notes soon after (he had always kept notes, but not on people). Mori. Hani. Kaoru. Hikaru. Each of them the heir(s) to a prominent family, each of them standing to inherit wealth, a family name and power.

Oh, power. Third sons didn't get power. Third sons stood back while the first sons soldiered on, carrying the family name behind them, the second sons diligently by their sides. Third sons worked in the background, smoothening out ruffled relations, making sure nothing went wrong while others got all the glory, all the credit, all the power.

You're the one who isn't trying hard enough.

And then he'd realized, he'd been wrong all along. The power was there for the taking, because he knew he was better, smarter than his brothers. He could carry the family name, because he deserved it. And to prove that, to prove his worth to his father, to prove that even as a student, he had the potential (more than the potential) to be the best-

I can call you by your first name, right? Since we're best friends-

Sometimes, he stood in the shadows and watched as his blond haired, violet eyed King charmed his way into the hearts of the girls (approximately seventy percent of them, if he was to be accurate, and he was always accurate) of the school with little more but his words, each and every single one of them as sincere as the last.

Sometimes, he took notes, jotting down the little things that made everyone different, or better, or stronger. The appearance of silence, stoicism, the eagerness to please, the flaunting of societal norms and then, the smiles.

Sometimes, he found it hard to believe that all this had come from one crazy idea, one crazy night, and sometimes…

"Kyoya? You look so distracted. What are you thinking about?"

Sometimes, he closed his book, put it aside, and stood up, a smile on his face (just another mask, just another one of the many he had) before he re-entered the world of the Host Club.

"Ah, nothing," he lied.

And sometimes, he thought, as his eyes met Tamaki's, it wasn't so hard, after all.