Tear in His Heart

Dance with the Devil

She couldn't believe it. The host club was still as ridiculous as she first believed it to be, and yet here she was, undoing the French braid her long hair had been in, and slipping into a knee length cardinal dress. It was simple, but nonetheless made her look pretty decent. Her makeup was as it usually was. A lot she wore, But it was not caked on, a dusting of foundation and blush, a sweep of eyeshadow, then stroke of mascara and eyeliner. Each served its own individual purpose, giving her unnaturally pale skin some color, making her eyes pop, hiding any possible lines or blemishes. Every stroke she made had been carefully considered. Even now, she realized it was her aunt who had taught her this at 14, not her own mother. The thought saddened her, but only for a moment for she would not allow herself that much sorrow. She had done her grieving. She had cried for that loss. She was a survivor, not a victim.

Her friends were thrilled that she had agreed to go. To Clover though, she had sunk to a new low. But there was a silver lining. Ever since she had met a fellow Slytherin, it didn't seem so bad. So rare was it to find someone as ambitious as her. But his ambition wasn't the only thing that attracted her. He seemed just as dark as her in a way, though she liked to project this in a way she could, he seemed to hide it. But she could sense it, the all knowing smirk, the glint in his stormy eyes, the way his quiet,yet honeyed voice captured the most malicious words and transformed them into polite, sweet dialogue. She had observed him ever since their last encounter. He had evoked a most... interesting reaction from her. He had made her giddy, made her excited, made her vulnerable. And she hated that. There was no denying the fact she had developed a small crush on Kyoya Ootori. But she doubted this cold, calculated man would return her feelings. So it was best to repress them. But if she truly thought this true, why would she even go to this ball? True, logic and feelings were very contradictory and she usually followed her heart. Which, she had been told would be the death of her. And she agreed. She sported a pair of ink colored heels to match her usual attire as well. Clover arrived late, not wanting to endure too much social pressure or too many fangirls at once. But finding a host among the congregation was like finding a needle in a haystack, and finding one specific host? Nearly impossible. So she sat towards the edge of the ignorant mass, sipping what must have been some type of juice.

"It's nice to see you're a woman of your word." She jumped at the sudden modulated, almost dead sounding voice. She turned to a boy with neatly combed onyx hair and cinereous eyes, bespectacled as usual. Kyoya smirks a little. "Hello, Miss Alvarado."

"You're permitted to call me Clover, Ootori-san." He chuckled a little.

"As you said, no need to be so formal. You may call me Kyoya." She flashes him a flawless smile, that damn smile. One that was so rarely seen, but he evoked with ease. He chastised himself for even thinking about her. He had found himself searching for her, convinced himself he was just doing this for the benefit of the club. But something about her got to him. Maybe it was the way she looked at him like he was the only thing in the world. She did not ask about the other hosts, in fact the only time her attention never wavered was when Haruhi talked to her directly. There was something different about her. She was about more than appearances, she was intelligent, she was eloquent and articulate, she was...

She was making him think. No guest had ever done that to him. There was always one goal in mind; profit. But with her... he didn't see a need. And she didn't quite make his heart race or his palms sweaty like she felt around him, but she had his attention. And that was enough for now. This was a game. And he would win, whether that meant sacrifice or surrender. He was in control, and come hell or high water, he would have her. "You look lovely tonight." she flushed slightly, Clover leaned forward so her hair cascaded forward to hide her face. He noticed, she was obviously not used to this. She shook her head slightly, trying to calm her racing heart. He was lying. He had to be! He's a host, he was trained to do this. He masqueraded his emotions so well, she could hardly tell what he was thinking. No boy had ever been that nice to her, in a romantic way at least. She had never had a boyfriend, no one ever liked her. She was romantically inexperienced.