No Treatment for Love [Ouran Host Club Fanfic]

Prologue

~Francesca~

Everyone has their problems. Whether it's family problems, friend problems, school problems, work problems or relationship problems, every person on earth has at least one. This single problem can bring so much anxiousness and worry that it becomes another problem. It's like a spiral of problem after problem. Unfortunately for my best friend Rose and I, we were under the spiral dilemma, which we were being reminded of now.

My agent, Brent Walkers, ran a hand through his golden hair. He was obviously distressed for two reasons. One, he had been running his hand through his hair for about ten minutes straight. Two, he had the top three buttons of his white button up unbuttoned. He'd only ever had three buttons untidy when we were waiting to see if I would be pressed with charges when I was fourteen. I swear, the paparazzi got in my face and shoved me first. Any self respecting person would shove the guy back. Turns out, when you're famous and fourteen, you don't get to shove back. That was two years ago, though, so needless to say, Brent hadn't been this distressed in a long time.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to not chew all the way through, which was hard. I was starting to get nervous. I stared at my agent. The look on his face was easy to read. I knew what was coming, but I didn't want it to come. In fact, I was dreading it.

"You've been to all the doctors– the best of the best here in America– and they can't diagnose either of you."

It was true. Rose and I had been to at least fifty doctors, all of whom claimed they couldn't help us. Not one doctor could tell us what we had or how to cure it. It was driving me crazy; all the doctor visits and all the negative responses.

"Brent, there's gotta be another way," I begged, putting my puppy dog eyes on full blast and sticking my bottom lip out.

He wouldn't look at me. Instead, he turned to Rose, as if she would assist him. "Japan isn't the end of the world. You both know Japanese. And you've always wanted to go there," he argued, giving Rose a serious look.

Rose rolled her eyes. "We know English, too. England would be closer. Heck, anywhere would be closer. I've also wanted to go to France. I know French. Why not send us there?"

Brent clenched his jaw. "There's better doctors in Japan."

I folded my arms over my chest. I was about to do something I didn't normally do, and I had to remind myself that my guilt couldn't get in the way this time. "What about my fans, Brent? Ever think about them? What are they going to think when I leave for Japan?" I knew it was a low blow, but Brent turned me into the bubble-gum-pop-star-singer, and he was going to get it at full measure. That meant bringing up my fans. I was famous in English speaking countries, after all.

He was obviously unamused. "They'll think you're taking a leave to write better songs," he stated simply.

I frowned. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with the songs I write now!" The topic of songwriting was always a touchy subject. Brent thought that everything I wrote was too closely reflected to my old rocker self. I, of course, strongly disagreed.

Rose sighed loudly, breaking the silence. I could tell she was extremely irritated. "What are we even supposed to do there? I can only shop for so long."

It became silent again. After an uncomfortable pause, Brent broke the silence by clearing his throat. "You'll be going to a prestigious high school."

I groaned, nearly slamming my head down onto the table in front of me. My pink hair flew all over, and I didn't even bother to try and fix it. "I don't wanna go to school!" I grumbled, forehead pressed against the cool wood.

"You don't get a choice," Brent sighed, probably running his hand through his hair again. "You're going and that's final."

My head shot up. "I said I don't wanna!" I practically screeched. I stood up abruptly, managing to knock my chair over. Rose stared at me, wide eyed. I hadn't acted out since I was changed from rocker to pop teen sensation. And now definitely wasn't the time to act out either, but I didn't care. I was upset and Brent wasn't acknowledging that.

He stopped running his hand through his hair to glare at me. "It'll do you good," he hissed, now obviously pissed off. "Maybe you'll relearn the word respect and come back a better person."

I stayed silent, and picked up the chair. Sinking back down into it slowly, I stared at my hands in my lap. I really managed to screw things up– again.

The rest of the conversation went over my head. Within two hours, we were on a plane to Japan. To our new life. To our new school. Rose looked like she wasn't phased, but I knew she was. I was just trying to regain my facade.

Be nice. Be polite. Be kind. Be talented. Be cute. Be funny. Don't be a rocker. Don't speak your mind. Don't yell. Don't be rude. Don't glare. And above all, don't listen to any rock music.

This was going to be a long plane ride.