Please bear with me through this prologue. I'm not a fan of OCs or even anything resembling one, so I felt uncomfortable writing this part... But things should be cleared up soon.
I (blatantly) pilfered the host club idea from Ouran (of course). I have also taken the liberty of using characters from both the manga and anime versions of KSTJ. Hopefully it'll work out.
Disclaimer: The characters and plot of Kuroshitsuji belong to Toboso Yana-sensei. And for good measure, the characters and plot of Ouran High School Host Club belong to Hatori Bisco-sensei. If I owned anything, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction.
Lesson Zero: An Introduction Sets the Scene
Stoneleigh Park Academy was a boarding school for the rich, the powerful, the famous, and the incredibly lucky. Here, the offspring of celebrities, politicians and CEOs received quality education from the finest tutors England had to offer. It was an academy that encouraged independence and self-reliance in a safe and supportive environment.
On this vast campus, students supposedly learned what it was like to get by in the 'real world', though they still had on-site access to the usual necessities such as fashion boutiques, chauffeurs, stylists and personal trainers.
The classroom floors were made of the finest marble; the dormitories, or residential halls, housed five-star suites for every student; lunch and dinner menus contained such dishes as foie gras salad and roast duck, prepared by chefs who'd been merited multiple Michelin stars.
Here, on this luxurious campus, certain voices whispered in the high school café.
"Isn't that Skye from our class?"
"You mean the creepy one who always sits at the back?"
"She's so scary…she doesn't talk to anyone, and she's always scowling…"
"Why does she cover her eye with her hair? Doesn't she know Emo is last year's fashion?"
"I thought she was kinda pretty…I wanted to ask her to join the fashion photography club, since clubs are starting up again soon…"
"Are you crazy? She'll eat you alive!"
"She's probably some unearthly creature, so she won't even show up in your photos anyway!"
A round of laughter followed.
The subject of the gossip sat alone at a table by the window, forcing down her lunch. She didn't want to eat – this place made her feel sick – but the other day, right in the middle of a violin tutorial, she had collapsed from exhaustion. It was probably in her best interest to eat lunch, at the very least.
After quickly finishing her food, Skye stood to go to her usual spot. However, upon exiting the café, her stomach lurched, unhappy with what she'd eaten. Feeling that unpleasant sensation rising in her throat, she ran to the bathroom.
She hated the bitter taste in her mouth. Bile and acid. Not again. She pursed her lips in frustration as she washed her hands and face in the marble basin. She hadn't meant to vomit every time she ate. There was something about this place, the people, the food. It unsettled both her mind and her stomach.
She despised this place, full of air-headed, spoiled brats. They were sent to this boarding school to learn about life, but the school was so worried about complaints from the pompous students that they were treated the same way they would have been at home.
Skye looked up at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She straightened out her blue-grey pigtails. With her fingers she brushed her fringe over to cover her right eye. Finally, she stood back a little to inspect her uniform; a plain beige blouse and red tie under a navy blue blazer with gold pinstripes, bearing the school crest; a short grey skirt, white knee-high socks and brown school shoes. What a joke. She tugged uncomfortably at the skirt. It was much too short for her liking. Not that she liked skirts in the first place.
Wearily, she walked down the vast halls of the East Wing, down to her favourite room. She had passed every lunch hour from the last two months there in that empty room, quietly staring out the window, playing chess against herself, or simply admiring the various paintings and sculptures that decorated the place. It was not the most interesting of things to do, but it was better than nothing, since students were not permitted to return to their suites during school hours.
She approached it, the door at the end of the hallway. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she put her hand around the ornate gold handle and opened the door, anticipating the welcoming silence, the comforting darkness.
What she found instead was that light. That damned light that made her eyes tear, and those sweetly-spoken words that deceptively hid a devilish smile.