Business (Kyoya Ootori)

Chapter 2

A/N – When Grammarly is desperate for you to buy premium. 100 advanced issues, my ass. This is perfectly fine, lmao. Just let me proud of my work. Fuck you, Grammarly. I've also been binge-watching the anime, live, and movie versions like a madman and I have so many new ideas for this fic. I can't wait to write them for you! I've been reading the manga too!

Chapter 2 - Carrying a Sketchbook Everywhere Can Only Lead to Disaster

I wished that I could've been able to pass unnoticed or, preferably, completely invisible to everyone around. Even slinking close to the walls of the hallways did me no justice – it didn't eradicate my presence as I'd hoped it would.

All eyes were, unfortunately, glued on me. I suppose it was inevitable considering how the black of my faded, ripped overalls stood out like a sore thumb against the vibrant pink of the building walls. Not to mention the blue and yellow uniforms donned by the wealthy students around me.

Even my old public high school uniform would've worked out better than this but I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed to wear it, especially since I had been transferred (against my will) to Ouran Academy.

As I walked, I held my school supplies close to my chest and each time a student dared to walk close to me, earning gasps I strengthened my hold on them – my precious sketchbook and pencils. I liked to think they were worth the number of meals I had to cut down on, but most of the time I just wanted to rip out the pages and burn them until they became something less than ashes.

"I should've known not to wear this today," I muttered to myself, staring uncomfortably down at my feet as not-so-quiet whispers from all around reached my ears. I could feel my hands grip my map of the school tighter and I had to constantly think to myself, just a few more steps.

Reaching my classroom couldn't have brought more of a relief but, when I hurriedly slammed the door shut and leant my back against it, breathing heavily, I soon noticed the small crowd of students surrounding one desk who had all turned to stare at me.

"S-sorry," I squeaked, quickly sprinting to the back of the classroom and sitting myself down at the first empty table I could find, praying that I wouldn't be sitting next to anyone. The disappointment came soon, however, when a school satchel was dumped unceremoniously onto the table space beside me and the other chair was dragged out along the floor.

Refusing to look at them, I stayed where I was, nervously opening my sketchbook with shaking hands and almost furiously tapping my pencil on the page over and over, watching as the small marks appeared and began to grow bigger until there was a large group of dots.

I started connecting them together, with no obvious start point, end, or any proper direction to draw; the freedom of it made me feel content and a little happy. The little lines soon turned into random scribbles, like the pencil was whisking my hand in whatever direction it deemed okay.

"I don't know about you but something like that doesn't look like the work of an art scholar," stated a smooth, highly familiar voice from beside me, making me jolt with a start and drop my pencil.

"Well, maybe you just don't have an eye for art, Ootori-San." I clapped a hand over my mouth. How could I respond in such a way to someone – let alone to my future husband?! Even if I didn't necessarily want to marry such a pompous ass, it wasn't like I could afford to get on his bad side.

You're such an idiot, Isabella! I could practically hear my family mocking me and I moved my hands to cover my ears, even though they were haunting my mind. No wonder why Kyoya's been forced to marry you. What cliché voices...