𝐋𝐞 𝐑𝐞̂𝐯𝐞𝐮𝐫 // 𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐒𝐮𝐨𝐡

ii. The Jealous

— "STARTING TODAY: YOU are a host!"

"A what now?" asked (Y/N), still sweaty from his performance. Tamaki's finger pointed at his face, a proud smirk persistent on his lips. "A host!" he confirmed, as if he were granting the boy a Purple Heart. The European was still confused.

"Why me?" he inquired, packing away his violin and bow. Tamaki wrapped an arm around his shoulder, an open hand gesturing to the many girls in the gathered crowd.

"Behold," he said, in his airy yet (slightly) obnoxious voice. "Gaze upon your fans, mon amour! They are head over heels for you!" The blond glanced down at him, his hand slipping to the boy's waist. He saw the blush on his cheeks, Tamaki knew what he was doing. "And you wouldn't be so heartless as to deny these lovely ladies your beauty, now would you?"

"Are you trying to guilt trip me?" questioned (Y/N), pulling away from Tamaki's grip. He was practically a stranger, after all; a handsome stranger, sure, but a stranger nonetheless. The blond gasped, feigning offence.

"You wound me, mon amour, truly. But come now," he grinned, leaning in. His breath fanning against (Y/N)'s skin as his lips practically teased his ear. "I know you enjoy the attention."

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. Was he really that readable? Surely not. This was a trick, it had to be. But.. if it wasn't...

The boy sighed, his cheeks glowing pink with all of the eyes inspecting his every move. He pushed back his hair, putting his (E/C), crystal-like eyes on display. "Will I get anything?" he asked.

"Sure," Tamaki answered. "You'll be rich by the end of your career, little violinist."

(Y/N) held out a welcoming hand, waiting for Tamaki to shake it. Their deal was secured, purely because of the violinist's boredom (and slight fascination with this violet-eyed pianist). "I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I accept your.. deal. Tamaki Suoh."

— FLATTERY WILL GET you anything if you're good at it: that was the only lesson (Y/N) was getting out of this impromptu shindig. All he had to do was call them beautiful, or notice their new haircut, or offer to play them a song, and every girl would swoon.

The attention did feel nice, but, something about leading these girls on felt... wrong. Not just because he was gay, but also because these girls obviously wanted some type of relationship from him and it definitely wasn't friendship.

(Y/N) played for them, or taught them how to waltz, and yet they never got tired of him. It was flattering, truly, but it dabbled in the obsession pool. Especially when he saw Hikaru and Kaoru's whole shtick. Ew. It made him shudder just thinking about it. Just be normal brothers, mon dieu.

"(Y/N)," a voice piped up. The boy turned around to notice that scrawny brunette boy he first saw, Haruhi Fujioka, the honour student. "I think I got what you needed."

The boy handed him a small box, the title and branding in Japanese. (Y/N) squinted at it, ignoring the labels and slowly prying it open. The cloth was neatly folded and smooth to the touch. The resin was perfectly circular, hypnotising to look at. The (H/C)-haired boy smiled, thanking Haruhi promptly. "Yes, it's perfect. Thank you so much."

"No problem," Haruhi added, before he scurried away to Kyoya. The girls sighed dreamily, their cheeks all dusted with pink. (Y/N) felt uncomfortable.

He put on his best smile, a nervous sweat running down his jaw. "Please excuse me, ladies. I need to... what's the word for "bavarder"?"

One of the girls piped up with an expectant grin. "To talk with is 話す. "Ha-na-su". I think that's the word you're looking for."

(Y/N) grinned a genuine grin. He gave the girl a gentle kiss, her cheek scalding beneath his lips. "Merci beaucoup, mon lapin. Une minute, sil vous plaît."

The violinist walked briskly to his employer. The blond sat with his legs crossed, holding a girl's jaw as she melted beneath his fingers. (Y/N) wanted to roll his eyes. "Tamaki. Wait... I call you that right? What do I call you?"

The host seemed caught off guard at first. He smiled smugly as he rose from the fluffed couch. His pointer finger tapped the tip of (Y/N)'s nose twice, his voice so sweet it could've caused a thousand cavities. "Traditionally, you are my underclassman. My kouhai, if you will! So you~..." In truth, (Y/N) was getting bored of his dishonest flirting and empty compliments. He kept his expression blank as Tamaki guided his chin, his long fingers nestled into the black chino of the boys thigh.

"Call me senpai. Tamaki-senpai, to be exact. Here, I'll show you how to write it."

Tamaki released him gently, as if he were as delicate as a flower's petals. (Y/N) scoffed at the way his heart pounded beneath his ribs. With beautifully scribbled writing, Tamaki broke it down for him.

(Y/N) leaned on his hands, arched over the table. Tamaki was at his side, forgetting his patrons completely. He pointed at a foreign symbol. "せんぱい. Se-n-pa-i. In kanji, it looks like this." Tamaki pointed to another mass of lines. '先輩', it was.

This country was beautiful and its language was, surprisingly, somewhat simple conversationally. But one thing's for certain, (Y/N) hated writing in Japanese. Tamaki scribbled down one more word, first in hiragana, then in katakana, then in kanji. He used the butt of the pen to point to a character, silently asking for (Y/N) to guess what that character meant.

'こ'. "Ko?" Tamaki nodded as he pointed to the next. 'う'. "U," answered (Y/N) confidently. Tamaki chuckled, the pen sliding over to the next one. 'は'. "...Ha?" Tamaki nodded with a grin, the last character hidden beneath the butt of his fountain pen. 'い'. "I. Oh! Ko-u-ha-i. Kouhai!"

"Ahem!"

Tamaki and (Y/N) glanced towards the abandoned (and obviously bored) girls. (Y/N) apologised quickly, offering each girl a kiss on the hand or cheek.

A redhead grinned condescendingly at him, holding out her limp hand. He smiled uncomfortably and gave her knuckles a kiss, scurrying away with his tail and pride between his legs.

She glared at him. That nobody would not steal Tamaki away. Never.