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He wasn’t a poor commoner who had found his way into attending the high-class Ouran Academy.
He wasn’t a poor commoner turned honorary student who had wanted to study and write poetry quietly in this otherwise infuriatingly noisy high school, finding his way to the third music room in the process, and he most certainly hadn’t broken this stupidly expensive vase that had been conveniently placed in the entrance of said room for someone to trip into and shatter.
At least, that’s what Megatron wanted to believe. But as he walked into the Host Club, warmly welcomed by a breeze of rose petals presenting six of the Academy’s most handsome students with way too much time on their hands in an expensive-looking getup, he was sorely reminded that he had actually been manipulated into becoming the Host club’s errand boy to pay back his debt for breaking the precious vase.
“Stupid rich people…” he muttered under his breath, resigning himself to an afternoon of absurdities.
They were idiots. All of them.
First, there was the obnoxious one, Rodimus. Or, as he liked to call himself, the king and self-appointed president of the host club. His good looks and charismatic personality had gained him the favors of about seventy percent of the Host Club’s clientele, which would be impressive if Megatron understood even a little about why the King’s clients were fawning so much over him in the first place.
“Rodimus, what is your favorite song?” one asked.
“The one on which we both danced together, of course,” Rodimus answered.
“I’ve made some candies for you, Rodimus!” another one eagerly said, “Would you like to have some?”
“Only if you feed them to me, my sweet,” he replied romantically, gently cupping her face and looking at her in the eyes. She couldn’t have blushed harder even if she tried, completely entranced by how “dreamy” the king was acting towards her. Every other client at the table sighed with delight.
Megatron had to remind himself that this prince-like act was coming from the same guy who hat proudly claimed “Long live the poor!” accompanied by full speech on how Megatron could fit even amongst the richest, most beautiful people like one’s naive art piece could in a museum full of accomplished scholars not even two minutes ago. He even gave him tips on how to silently put down a teacup on a plate, which was apparently an art in itself. Yes, Rodimus was truly the host Megatron loathed the most, if only for his senseless speeches and preconceived ideas about a commoner’s lifestyle.
Not far away from Rodimus was Magnus, the “cool” type. He was the tallest of the hosts, easily towering over everyone else in the room, and always maintained a serious expression. It was a wonder he hadn’t broken anything in the third music room yet. Most of the time, he wasn’t entertaining the other students as he had to run and maintain the club instead of Rodimus. The few who conversed with him over a cup of tea were either attracted to his very polite and direct demeanor or wanted to try becoming the first one to make him smile, a challenge in which even the other hosts hadn’t succeeded yet. He was perhaps the most level-headed of the bunch, but in Megatron’s opinion he was still an idiot for tolerating all of Rodimus’s antics in the first place.
Then, there were Cyclonus and Tailgate, the “strong, silent” and “lolita” types. According to Magnus, their charm was found in the relationship they shared as well as their size difference, with Cyclonus being at least two times as tall as Tailgate. On rare occasions like today, they arrived late due to other club activities or important meetings.
“Sorry we’re late!” Tailgate yawned, perched on top of Cyclonus’s shoulders. “I had to wait for Cyclonus to finish his meeting and fell asleep… I’m not completely awake yet,” he said softly, trying to rub the sleep out of his face. Cyclonus nodded, placing Tailgate on the comfiest cushion of their customer’s couch and sitting right next to him. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the tiny host next to him who was trying not to doze off. Their audience promptly squealed with joy at peeking into such an intimate but extremely cute scene.
Honestly, Megatron wouldn’t have found it too odd if it wasn’t for the fact that both Cyclonus and Tailgate were the oldest members of the club. He wouldn’t have believed that behaving like a young child could have gained anyone’s romantic attention before seeing the pair acting together. Or was it genuine affection and naiveté?
Next were the “forbidden lovers”, Chromedome and Rewind. As Megatron understood, the two of them were also very close to each other. They were best friends even before Rodimus had asked them to be part of the Host Club and their appeal laid in the fact that Chromedome came from a rich and famous family, while Rewind was from a more common one.This kind of bond was frowned upon and some sort of taboo subject amongst many. Of course, it was that same taboo that their clients lusted after. According to Rodimus, the fact that they also had a different height was also part of their charm.
Both of them were currently entertaining their guests with what was probably a heavily romanticized version of an amorous anecdote.
“And then, in the heat of the moment, Rewind tried to kiss me, but he realized too late that he was too short to reach me, so he ran off to find something to stand on!” Chromedome told the tale with amusement.
“Chromedome!” Rewind said, embarrassed and blushing furiously. “You had promised to never tell how our first kiss went!”
Their clients gasped, awaiting the end of Chromedome’s story with anticipation.
“Rewind… I’m so sorry!” Chromedome apologized, taking Rewind’s hands into his own. You were just so adorable, I couldn’t help myself…” he said, cuddling his lover. At this point, both of them had teary eyes to emphasize the act.
“Chromedome…” Rewind sighed, relaxing into the embrace. It was at this exact moment that every single one of their clients did what could only be described as fangirling without restraint. It was a wonder none of of the hosts had let out a giggle considering how ludicrous the situation was.
Megatron couldn’t tell if any of the tears shed in this act were fake, but the heavily glamorized act did put him off a little. He would admit that Chromedome and Rewind were the easiest to get along with though.
He sighed again, preparing a tray of tea and sweets to serve at Rodimus’s table. He didn’t understand the appeal in hosting at all, but at least it seemed that they were having a good time and were actually good at entertaining the other students.
“Megatron~!” Rodimus sing-sang to his new recruit, still entertaining his guests. “Go to the nearest commoner’s store and buy more of that instant drink! I want all of my lovely princes and princesses to try it with me!” He said as his guests gasped in surprise, some horrified by the idea of a poor’s version of a delicate beverage and others infatuated by his bravery. Megatron finished serving tea and complied, doing his best to maintain a polite small as he walked out of the music room.
Stupid rich people.
It wasn’t long before Megatron was granted his own uniform in order to become a host himself. Since he had starting working for the Host club, more and more students had wanted to have a chat with him, hoping to take a peek into a world that wasn’t their own. A lot of them were attracted by the idea of talking to someone of Megatron’s status, especially since he was quite the intellectual.
After a short discussion, it was decided that Megatron would the “normal” type, a label that he had to convince Rodimus was more appealing and respectful than the “poor” or “commoner” type. Megatron’s charm, according to Rodimus, was that he could unveil the mystery behind a commoner’s life to his guests and prove that even someone as poor as him could excel in an elite, private Academy. The idea had been extremely well received, earning the king a lot of praise and attention for his open mindedness as well as the approval from all the other members of the club, which, according to Magnus, was a miracle in itself.
The next day, a perfectly fitted uniform was presented to Megatron and he was hurried into the nearest dressing room by the smallest hosts to try it on.
“Can I really keep this?” Megatron asked as came out of the dressing room, still adjusting his new tie and getting used to wearing the full rich student getup. He honestly didn’t care how the other students perceived him; he had come to this Academy to learn from the best, not win a beauty pageant. Still, he was grateful for being given proper clothes to wear since he couldn’t have possibly afforded them, even second hand.
“You look very handsome, Megatron!” Tailgate cheered, obviously admiring him. Cyclonus gave a curt nod in agreement.
“Of course he does, it was tailored to his exact measurements,” Chromedome added.
“Yes, the uniform does fit you very well,” Magnus said sternly. “Naturally, its cost will be added to your debt. I hope you don’t mind.”
Megatron resisted the urge to facepalm. Of course it would be added to the enormous amount of money he already owed. Stupid rich people.
“What do you think, Rodimus?” Rewind asked, turning towards the king. “I’m sure he’ll do a great if he continues to work just as he had been for —” he stopped mid-sentence, taking a careful look at Rodimus’s face.
Every host in the room but Megatron held their breath as they realized how still Rodimus was. That had never happened before. Their speechless king was standing in front of the dressing room, furiously blushing.
Megatron remained oblivious to the situation, still fiddling with his tie. He didn’t particularly like being stared at, especially by someone like Rodimus.
“Earth to Rodimus!” Chromedome shouted, finally breaking the silence and waving his hand in front of an awestruck Rodimus.
Rodimus spluttered out a cough, coming back to his senses. “Yes, of course,” he said, “Megatron, you look very beautif- I mean good. You look very good. Starting today, you are a host!” He exclaimed, getting his act back together. “And I will personally train you!”
Megatron didn’t look forward to working with Rodimus on a daily basis, but if this is what it took to pay back his debt, so be it.
In the beginning, Rodimus had unnervingly kept an eye on him at all times. There wasn’t a moment where the king hadn’t been trying to take a glance at him, justifying the action by saying he wanted to make sure Megatron did the job perfectly. However, it was agreed soon after that Megatron was a natural at hosting, and therefore didn’t need any special training. It had depressed Rodimus for a few minutes until Megatron had personally thanked him for his support, and that if it wasn’t for his help he would still be without a proper uniform to host with. The compliment had made Rodimus promptly come back to life, in a way. Which Megatron still though was an obnoxious behavior, but at least it was easy enough to cheer Rodimus up. And he truly was thankful for the uniform and the opportunity to work gracefully and not have to constantly endure the other Hosts’ constant fetch quests.
Most of the time, Megatron’s days as a host went by without a hitch, and he found himself enjoying being a host a lot more than he had first anticipated. He still served as the club’s errand boy from time to time, especially when Rodimus asked for more “commoner’s drinks” for entertainment purposes, but other than that he spent most of his time actually conversing with other students over a cup of tea. It was also the first time anyone of his age had also expressed interest in his poetry, which he appreciated greatly. His clients loved hearing him recite the new verses he created and he would enjoy their company.
But sometimes, there were students that really made him remember why he thought rich people were stupid in the first place. People like the ones from newspaper’s club, composed of only two members who were way too eager to spread misleading rumors about the Host Club and acted like they were entitled to their status.
“You won’t get away with this, Rodimus!”, Getaway shouted while being escorted out of the third music room by Cyclonus and Ultra Magnus with Atomizer in tow. “I know you’re just flaunting your power as the principal’s son at everyone in this Academy! You’re even using Megatron here,“ he accusingly pointed, “to boast about how kind you supposedly are! No one in their right mind would allow a simple commoner into Ouran Academy!”
“Of course,” Rodimus waved goodbyes at him, always keeping his host’s smile. “Don’t forget to say hi to Optimus on your way out.”
“What?! You can’t force me into the principal’s office!” Getaway shrieked, “I’ll risk being thrown out!”
“Let him decide,” Rodimus finished, the door finally closing on the pair of troublemakers. Magnus and Cyclonus were some of the strongest mechs around; he knew from experience that Getaway and Atomizer would have a hard time escaping from them.
“He was a great client once,” Rodimus said, turning towards the remaining hosts, “But ever since he became president of the newspaper’s club, he’s only shown how ugly he was on the inside. He is unfit to be our guest, let alone write for Ouran’s newspaper.”
It was the first time Megatron hadn’t thought of Rodimus as an idiot.
The more time Megatron spent pleasing the other students during club hours, the more accustomed he became to the dysfunctional family that was the Host Club. He even came to realize that they weren’t as idiotic as he had first thought.
Chromedome and Rewind had remained the most approachable of the hosts, which was probably because they shared the same classes. Both of them were very friendly to the other students, but had kept their relationship mostly secret except for when they were expected to act. Eventually, encouraged by their friends, they had decided to be more and more open about their love towards each other and, to their surprise, were positively received by their classmates. Megatron was glad that Chromedome and Rewind had finally opened themselves up to people that weren’t part of the Host Club; a relationship as close as they shared was extremely difficult to hide. He admitted to himself that, had he been in their place, he would probably have been afraid to reveal the truth as well.
Cyclonus and Tailgate, which he had considered the strangest, were in fact some of the physically strongest people he had ever met. For that reason, despite the appearances, they actually made an unstoppable team and were often the first persons to defend the other members of the club if needed. Tailgate was especially quick to jump into action in these times, but thankfully Cyclonus was here to make sure that his friend wouldn’t regret his impulsive actions later. Tailgate was the most outspoken person Megatron knew and Cyclonus, who prefered to remain silent most of the time, had always demonstrated his loyalty to Tailgate and his friends by protecting them in any way he could. Sometimes, it meant he had to go against Tailgate’s wishes even if it tortured him; sometimes, it just meant he was making sure that none of his friends were in distress, listening to them if needed and sharing their burden. Not once had Megatron caught him speaking of another one’s secret.
Ultra Magnus, as stoic and cold as he seemed, was actually very kind and simply cared deeply for Rodimus, whom he respected and admired for his extroverted demeanor. He was able to read and analyze other students like no one else could, and it was both impressive and terrifying if you ever got on his bad side. Thankfully, him and Megatron’s relationship was one of mutual respect.
Megatron had even befriended some other students such as Ravage, who was the son of a rich family of yakuza. He and Megatron didn’t have much in common, but it was nice to have someone to chat with about anything that wasn’t related to hosting. There was also Nautica, who could almost be considered the manager of the Host club. She had a tendency to appear sporadically to offer some advice or chat with him and the other hosts, and it was difficult to stop her rambling when she spoke of something that truly passionate her. Her knowledge on various subjects was so vast that she was the first person the hosts came to if they needed advice to run an event. On the other hand, Whirl, the founder of the black magic club, was in a league all of its own. He showed up in the Host Club from time to time, scaring off most of the guests with his imposing and perhaps menacing nature, but once you got to know him it was obvious he meant no harm. Unless you provoked him first, in which case you would end up being cursed. However, Megatron didn’t believe in magic and curses, so Whirl’s unique behavior didn’t bother him all that much.
And then there was Rodimus. The most obnoxious, but perhaps also the most endearing of them all. Megatron didn’t remember when he had started to think about him that way, but it was starting to be obvious that there was something more to him than simply being a bumbly, charismatic prince figure. For one, he was far more intelligent that he had first thought, scoring nearly as high as Ultra Magnus and himself on any given exams. The reason he had so much free time to host in the first place was because he actually found studying to not be much of a challenge and got bored way too easily. However, the one thing that stuck out to Megatron was how he was told Rodimus had formed the club in the first place.
Rodimus hadn’t known any of the other members prior to founding the club. Instead, after having being transferred from a foreign school, he had sook other misfits students like him and brought them together as his new family. Megatron had unknowingly been invited to become a part of their group, and all of them were now friends who were greatly admired by their classmates. Megatron could have remained a fish out of the water for all of his high school life, only focusing on his studies and neglecting to have fun, but Rodimus’ actions had proven him that both were possible and perhaps necessary to become an even greater person.
Megatron couldn’t help but crack a smile while preparing another tray of tea and snacks, thinking about how it had all begun with him breaking a precious vase. He had truly grown fond of all of the hosts, and, thinking about it, he couldn’t imagine spending his remaining high school years in any other way. He could have done without the “paying an enormous debt” part, but the friendships he had formed with other people by working here were worth it. Even his guardian,Terminus, had started enjoying their frequent visits after a while.
He elegantly brought the tray of six perfectly prepared cups of tea and cakes to his friends who were eagerly waiting for him and swore that he saw Magnus crack a smile too.
It was truly a miraculous feat.