This chapter is dedicated to skyuni, because I love their writing and their lovely story, Better than Gold, is one of my favorite Ouran stories on Wattpad!

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Micah's POV

The night was comparable to a dream.

Or a nightmare. It very much depended on how the girl in question (AKA me) viewed being treated as a Princess for one very special night.

At the moment, I teetered on the fence, and Kaoru's unrelenting grip on my wrist made me wish to topple into the realm of nightmares.

"Is the mask necessary?" I asked for the umpteenth time since we left the dress shop. 

"Of course!" This was his generic answer, and there'd been very little variation on it as far as I was concerned. "A Princess' birthday ball wouldn't be complete without... ah! Looks like we're here."

Here? Here is a pretty vague term... Our location was somewhere in the vicinity of Ouran Academy. I knew this only because I'd caught a glimpse of the fairy-princess pink of the school's walls as I was hurried along by Kaoru.

The sun's light had disappeared over the horizon some time ago, leaving me nearly blind in the resulting darkness. Only Kaoru's pale-skinned hand, glowing in the soft, silverly light of the moon, was visible in my line of sight. Then that disappeared as well as he skipped forward, leaving me fumbling behind him like some intoxicated wretch.

"Kaoru...!" I bit out, sweeping my gaze around in a pathetic effort to find him again. I took small steps forward, paused, tried again. Fear of the dark wasn't high on my list of priorities, if there at all. That didn't mean I particularly enjoyed being left alone after the sun had said its bleeding farewell, though. 

"Ok, Boss! Hit the lights!"

"What...?"

I froze as the scene suddenly lit up with incandescent light, bathing the surrounding rose bushes in a rich, golden aura that sparkled off the evening dew drops. The rose garden. Of course. The most picturesque place in all of Ouran. The Host Club would certainly find their way here for whatever latest event they'd mobilized on. Only, was this event really centered on... me?

My gaze wavered between the dazzling portable spotlights I suspected Mori had set up (they towered high above the faceless attendees, too high for an average Japanese person to reach) and the equally eye-catching Host Club. Reminiscent of our first encounter, they stood clustered together, arms outstretched in a welcoming manner, beautiful smiles playing on their lips. 

Six high school boys (and one Haruhi) of varying ages, all exceedingly handsome, all dressed to the nines in perfectly tailored black suits complete with tailcoats and Italian-leather shoes polished beyond the point of perfection and simple ebony masks. Seeing them, it felt as though a day hadn't gone by since I'd been chased into Music Room 3 and accused them all of being perverts bent on stealing the young souls of unsuspecting women.

Alright, I hadn't gone that far during our initial encounter, but the seedling thought had blossomed at some point during my stay, before withering to ash as time went on. 

"Welcome, Princess."

I put a hand to my mouth, unsure whether I was stifling giggles or tears. They were idiots, all of them. Even Kyouya, with all his immaculately ingrained intelligence. But they'd succeeded in growing on me, and now I couldn't imagine life without them. 

 I couldn't help but wonder if that in itself was a worse curse than the one bestowed upon me by Daire, but the thought fled the moment Honey broke free of the group and leaped at me in a warm, welcome hug. He spun us around, making me laugh with the onset of giddy dizziness, giggling, "Happy birthday, Mi-chan!"

"Yes." Tamaki's prominent voice echoed around the garden, gaining the full attention of all those present. He held up his white-gloved hand, offering me a rose from afar: The only way he knew I'd accept it from him. "Tonight, we celebrate the birth of our beloved Micah! Oh the angels must have weeped the moment she came into this world, so lovely, so full of life..."

And I more or less tuned out the rest of his spectacularly lengthy speech. There's a very slim chance I would have blushed at his attempt at flattery, but as it happens I was distracted mid-rant by Honey twirling me out onto the dance floor. We were, unfortunately, the first ones to fall into a loose embrace, hands clasped together, moving in a seemingly endless revolution.

I would have been extremely embarrassed if not for Honey's steady stream of over-joyed giggles, so pure and sweet they left me wholly intoxicated, some complacent smile on my lips. 

Heeding our (Honey's) desires, the full-piece orchestra waiting in the proverbial wings sprung to life, filling the night with upbeat, chiming music haunted by swooning notes that were daintily strummed from violins and chellos alike.

"You dance really well, Mi-chan!" Honey commented, his honey-brown eyes sparkling even hidden behind the feathered mask. 

"I guess so." I smiled meekly, unable to finish the thought: I would have to, considering how many times Daire forced me to practice with him. Tonight was not a night of tortured reverie; tonight... well, as I heard Tamaki put it sometime admist our dance: "Tonight is a night of pure maidenly fun and exaltation!"

Just for a moment, he gave the same impression the girls of Lobelia had. But I quickly dismissed the thought, losing myself in the spontaneous excitement my dance with Honey had caused. It felt as though it would continue all night, the two of us swinging round and round the rolled-out dance floor I was sure I'd be paying Kyouya back for, dogding around other masked guests and apologizing to the ones we found to be irritatingly unavoidable. But nothing lasts forever, my friends, and that fact was reiterated to me the moment the "fanciful ball" was plunged into darkness.

All movement ceased; not a breath stirred the night air. A panicked shout rang out, but was swiftly silenced. I held tightly to Honey's hand, feeling him tremble slightly in the dark. He didn't seem the type to fear the darkness, but I'd guessed he normally had Mori for comfort at times like this, and wasn't quite used to it all on his lonesome. 

"It's ok, Honey." I spoke in low, soothing tones. "Probably just a minor glitch in the lighting system. Kyouya'll be wanting his money's worth, so I'm more than positive this'll only last a little while." His phantom sniffling sounded muffled to my ears, as though the darkness was palpable, a virtually blanket cast over the entire party.

"Fufufufufu..."

I perked up, twisting around. Still nothing. But that laugh... I was well acquainted with that particular laugh.

All at once, I felt myself torn from Honey's grasp and swept into another's hold, the sound of Honey's giggles trailing behind me. It all clicked; this was planned so that the night-stalker among us could enjoy the festivities as well as the rest of us.

"Neko-kun," I smiled, imagining, in perfect detail, that he'd traded his violet cloak for one more suitable for such a dressy occasion. Despite the black veil, I knew he mirrored my pleased gesture, could see the mischeivous twinkle trapped beneath his flopping bangs.

"My dear Micah, so nice to see you!" See being a liquid term, one susceptible to drastic change given the speaker's will. "That dress of yours has transformed you into a beautiful wax doll, you know. Perfect for stealing souls~!" 

So perhaps the term was considerably more concrete that I'd thought.

"Neko-kun... can you, ah... can you see me?" I murmured as he spun me around, completely successful in removing what little sense of balance I had left after the lights abandoned us. Pitched forward, I fell against his cloaked chest; my feet were utterly useless with the lights off. I'd never been so uncooridinated in my life! There wasn't a chance I'd be able to live this down if seen by the hosts, so in that regard, the blackness was a blessing.

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating through my connecting cheek and sending a wave of delightful shivers down my spine. As stated before, if Nekozawa was lacking in his odd qualities, I could have easily envisioned myself falling for him, if only because of an overload of traitorous female hormones.

"I'll keep that secret to myself, I think," he said at last, still ghosting us around the dance floor. If he was as without sight as I was, surely we would have already collided with the frozen couples dotting all around. He answered the question without having to say the magic words. A small smirk pulled my lips up. Neko-kun, as always, managed to astound me.

When the tension had thickened enough that one could have choked on it, Nekozawa lulled me to a tentative stand-still. I allowed myself a pout, unabashed whether he could clearly see me or not. Another chuckle, another imagined smile. His rather cold hand cupped my cheek; his breath fanned out over my nose, invoking a blistering red flush across my cheeks. "I believe it's time for me to step aside," he laughed, "so I'll only say one more thing: Remember to wish for beautiful curses when the time comes to blow out your candles! Oh, and this as well: The Black Magic Club is forever open to you, my dear Micah, whenever you've grown weary of the hosts."

I faintly heard a far-off Tamaki vehemently spitting nonsense, as though privy to Neko-kun's invitation.

"Well, as always, I'm grateful, Neko-kun," I grinned. "But... I'm happy... where I am right now."

His breathed his next words close to my ear: "Then have a bewitching night!" 

He was gone at the very same moment that the lights flickering back to life, and a chorus of weighty sighs left the lips of numerous guests. A sigh of my own escaped. The night had only just begun and already the surprises had taxed me. There was a permanent heat-stain coating my cheeks after Nekozawa's intimate farewell. The Prince of Darkness... huh.

I turned and started back towards Honey. That chibi lolita knew what was going on with the lights and still had the audacity to act frightened, all in the hopes of further proving his cuteness in my eyes? He already surpassed every level of adorability I'd thought imaginable, and still he seeked some higher form?

Oh, I couldn't stay mad at him. More than just physically impossible, it was an immovable emotional blockade through which no ill thoughts could pass.

"Micah."

I tipped back my head, pulled effortlessly from my thoughts by a deeply resonating voice, eyes wide. "Ah. Hello Mori. What's up?" 

His soft smile warmed my already reckless heart. He offered a hand - preferably to lead me back to the dance floor, as I'd managed to stumble away from it while in Nekozawa's care. "Question: Is it required for all the hosts to know how to dance? Because I was honestly not expecting Honey to be able to move so fluidly."

I paused a moment, considered, cocking my head to the side. "Ah, never mind. It makes sense. He's certainly more athletic and graceful than I am." To my surprise, Mori shook his head, disagreeing with me. 

"You're not ungraceful."

There was no answer to the sincerity in his voice, to the glimmer in his eyes I couldn't quite place, so I mutely ducked my head in hopes of distracting him from the blood rushing to my cheeks. "Ah, thank you, Mori." 

Honey was in sight now, bouncing on the tips of his tows, a hand shading his eyes as he looked all around the dance floor, only pausing when he met eyes with us. The wattage of his smile could have powered all of Las Vegas (in it's uniquely neon glory) for a century. I started towards him, only to have my arm pull taut and drag me to a standstill.

Honey giggled - far away as I was I could still hear the laughter with perfect clarity - and made a spinning motion with his hand, presumably to inform that I must turn around now. Frowning, did as bid and found myself face-to-torso with Mori. I craned my neck to raise a brow at him. 

He held out his hand - an invitation.

My body moved of its own accord, placing my hand in Mori's without so much as a whisper of hesitation. Warmth. Such warmth radiated from this third-year. His hand holding mine was like the perfect kiss of sunlight.

...I'm being perfectly dramatic, so you'll have to excuse me. I had no control over myself at this point, even when Mori's other hand landed at my waist and he lulled me out in the sea of revived dancers, twirling into sparkly tornadoes on a path of beautiful destruction. I say this because at least two couples looked as though one was the earth and the other a passing meteor, so close to collision but with just enough of a cushion between them to avoid disaster.

Mori felt infinitely taller than me and a pout claimed my lips before I could order otherwise. Mori, seeing or more likely sensing my frustration, calmly pushed against my back, causing me to stumble into his chest and also climb onto his shoes. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, a deafening siren that screamed with pure ecstasy and awkwardness in a balance so equal I didn't know whether or flush or kiss him.

Wait. That's not...

My train of thought was once again derailed, thrown off-course by Mori reeling into a spin in which he lifted me off my feet for a single second to give me the intoxicating illusion of weightlessness that I often associated with flying. 

"You're... really good," I breathed, berating myself a moment later for such an disgracful comment. Couldn't I have said something a bit more tactful? Like, you have lovely shoes, or nice weather we're having, huh, or maybe even whoa. 

The sarcasm is practically as venomous as a viper, isn't it?

Mori's faint smile did very funny (in a very unamusing way) things to my flopping heart.

This was so starkly different from my dance with Honey, or even my latest with Nekozawa. The air was different, heavier and lighter at the same time, crisp and clear and fuzzy and distorted. I had enough trouble informing my lungs that yes, it's time to breathe again without struggling to contemplate why my pulse spiked every time Mori tipped his head down and caught my unwavering eyes with shameful ease. 

 I was only vaguely aware that our (his) steps carried us through not one song but three in total, too deliriously giddy to notice much more than the indecipherable look in Mori's eyes. He'd always been some sort of expressionless, but whenever a fleeting emotion crossed his features I'd been fairly capable of decoding it. 

This time, however, I was all but stumped, my only hint to go on being the sporadic drumbeat pounding against my seemingly-fragile ribcage. I couldn't tear my eyes from Mori's. A slow, easy smile slipped over my lips, unconscious but not unwanted. 

It was only when Mori's gliding movements ceased that I even remotely realized how ungodly idiotic I must have looked, smiling like a daydreaming fool while snared in Mori's gaze. My immediate (and very much expected) reaction was the flush and clambor down from his shoes, head bowed and hands wringing out fretfully.

"Ah, I..." I swallowed back my nervous stuttering to the best of my ability. "Thank you, Mori. I... had a lot of fun... dancing with you."

"My pleasure, Micah. I enjoyed it too."

My head tipped back at the sincerity so proudly displayed in his baratone voice. Something stirred within me, a thought either long forgotten or so suppressed that it had all but dissipated in my subconscious. Words piled on my tongue, wanting, more than anything, to be spoken, to be shared, but alas, the universe (as always) had already made other plans.

I found myself being embraced from behind, lifted off my feet in a quick motion that forced a gasp from my lips. "Kaoru!" I squeaked, recognizing the twin's impish laughter fanning the back of my neck. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Stealing a dance," was all he said in response, before whisking me away from Mori (without allowing so much as a goodbye) and threading his way through a group of gaping dances who'd witnessed the scene.

He planted me on my feet for just a moment before sweeping me off them yet again, pulling me into a dance much more fitting for the upbeat music that now spun through the party. My breath hitched in my throat; and not just because Kaoru had suddenly pulled me tight to his chest, so that not even an inch of space remained between us.

"This is... Nevermore."

He quirked a brow, confused by my reaction. His head cocked, back towards the speakers I hadn't seen on my arrival, and his comfortable smirk returned to his lips. "Right. I forgot about that. Boss asked Riley and that Damian guy to record a special song for your birthday. They couldn't make it cause of a gig," he added at the sight of my lips turning up in a smile.

A tragedy, that was. A very fitting tragedy. They would miss me making an overall fool of myself in front of so many bystanders of the Host Club in a dress only fitting for a fairy tale on a night meant to drown me in the riches of the princess-style life I so loathed. How horrible.

Kaoru had changed the pace of our dance, slowing us until all others seemed to blur in comparison as they gyrated past. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist, gentle but firm, as though saying I only had to stay if I so wished. I found it both endearing and unpredictable, relacing in his hold without a second thought, only faintly worrying over the state of my flushed face as I rested my cheek against his chest.

"You knocked me sideways,

When you said that you were leaving.

It knocked me over

When you cried and told the truth.

And it left me speechless

The secrets you've been keeping.

You're running now, cause someone's chasing you..."

The lyrics, the mood, the beat... everything differed from Nevermore's usual style, so completely changed even the most hard-core fan would never have picked up on the identity of the band. But Damian's voice, lyrical and flowing, stringing together sounds so perfect the Muses would have weeped hearing him, was a constant presence in the back of my mind now that our fates seemed to be once again intertwined. The moment his first note stuck the air, I'd known.

A small, loving smile. The closing of my eyes. The soft humming of this song (one I remembered to be called Glowing from one of Damian's many bursting notebooks; it hadn't been finished when I'd left, and the lyrics weren't quite the same, but the tone of the song was as angsty as I remembered) beneath my breath. 

Kaoru noted it all.

"So, Damian, then."

"Whatever you may think, Kaoru, he's nothing more than a friend. Simply a very caring, very compassionate, very wonderful friend who supported me in a stressful time."

"If he's so wonderful, then why don't you--"

"Because." I edged away from him, lifting my eyes to pin him with a pointed look. "I love him, Kaoru, but not in the way you seem so keen to think. A friend. That's all. We could never be anything more, and I don't want us to be anything more."

He blinked, drinking in my words slowly, his tense shoulders slackening with the subtle breath he released. Another grin, this one less impish and more charming, overtook his graceful features. 

"Guess I haven't lost yet, then."

"What are you--"

He silenced me with a sudden motion towards my lips, his nose pressed to mine, eyes crinkled with amusement. "Shh, forget about it. Just enjoy the party, shorty."

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That was much, much, much too close to a kiss.

I exhaled sharply, recalling how erratically my heart had thumped when I'd thought his lips would touch mine. My hands flew to my mouth, my eyes shutting tightly as the heart crept its way up my neck to pool in my cheeks; it was especially pronounced now that I'd become so pale with astonishment.

I was right all along; the Host Club would be the death of me.

"I see you're taking a break from the madness."

I didn't bother rousing myself from my state of utter teenage tragedy to dignify Kyouya's arrival with a response. I merely dipped my head when he took a place at my side, looking out at the festive scene over the tops of his maddening spectacles. 

"Did you enjoy the message your American friends left for you?"

An unconscious smile pulled at my lips. Damian, Riley, you would never cease to amaze me. 

After the final verse of Glowing, Damian had continued on with his recording.

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".....Are we still on?"

Riley's voice was unmistakably clear as Kaoru and I glided to a stop. I perked up from my daze (brought on by Kaoru and all his treachory), looking towards the speakers again as though Damian and Riley would appear from thin air.

"You're on, Riley. Just keep going."

"Awesome! Alright then, ladies and gents, this song is dedicated to the only girl good enough for my buddy here! Micah Viano, your redhead prince is totally waiting for you! So ditch the hosts and get your butt over he--"

A smack and a low moan of pain crackled through the speakers, then:

"I'm sorry about that. Nineties-boy hasn't taken his pills yet today."

I could imagine Damian's satsified smirk as well as Riley, his subdued raging still palpable in the background. 

A few chuckles drifted through the bemused audience, but my unabashed smile outshone them all.

"Nineties-boy? What the hell is up with that?!"

"Be grateful; I've promoted you from the lowly eighties."

"You--"

"Anyway," Damian went on, sounding as though he'd stepped closer to the microphone, most likely to block Riley from interfering, "this song really is for Micah. She's a special girl, and I wish we could be there with her now, but unfortunately, we have to work. So I'll be counting on you hosts to make sure she's smiling all night long."

"Yeah!" Riley suddenly broke in. "If we find out she frowned even once, there will be some major host-ass to kick!"

Another audible smack.

"Shut up, Grunge."

"Oi! I told you, it's not a grunge look! And I have a name, you know--"

"Oh, I know. I just don't care. Now really, shut up. You're wasting time on the recording. Look we only have a few seconds left."

"What?! Hurry up and say it then, you bloody nerd!"

"For the last time, Riley, no matter how many times you say bloody, it doesn't make you British."

"Gah! Whatever. I'll say it, then! Happy Birthday, Mikes!"

Then silence.

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"I very much enjoyed it."

Kyouya said nothing, not even sparing me a fleeting glance, choosing instead to watch the crowd sway and ripple along with the tinkling melody trickling from the string section of the orchestra. Had he come over to inform me I'd be paying it off? That was something he'd do, being the spawn of hell and whatnot.

I bit back a laugh, seeing Honey, settled on Mori's shoulders, declare that it was time to get the cake and ride the tall third-year clear across the dance floor, vanishing behind the tall rose-weaved hedges enclosing this section of the garden.

"I take it this outrageous party has been a success then."

A statement; implying I had no room to say otherwise. I felt a bit of rebellious fire alight inside me, but I smothered the blaze before it became inescapable. Kyouya wouldn't dare ruin this night for me. He may not have feared Tamaki's "wrath", but with so many generous guests around, he'd risk losing face if a scene was made. And the Ootori boy was not one for losing face.

"It has," I agreed, turning to give him a smile. Behind it, though, was a message: Enough of your crap, Dark Kind. The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smirk. "I'll assume this was payed for with the club's funds, so I'm sure this'll be tacked onto my debt..."

"On the contrary, Micah" - at my raised brows he allowed the entirety of his smirk to slither out - "you've already payed for tonight's proceedings."

Hesitant to believe him, I closed my gaping mouth, took a slow, calming breath, and asked, "...In what way?"

"Everything here tonight was payed for using the profits we gained by selling your baked goods."

"....You were selling my baking?"

"Really, I'm surprised you didn't figure it out sooner." He mockingly tsked at me, to which I scowled and jerked around, returning to my post of watching the dance. "In any case, that isn't why I made my way over here."

I waved a hand absently behind me, telling him to go on.

I could feel the force of his eye roll.

It was staggering.

"It's about your birthday present."

Much as I loathe to admit this, that particular statement piqued my interest enough that I spun back around, much, much too quickly. His smugness was suffocating.

"What? Is my debt cut by a third or something?" I asked. It was reasonable; there'd been several instances where Haruhi was coerced into the club's madness with the offer of reducing her debt to the hosts. Offering the same as a present was a bit too generous in my mind to have come from Kyouya, but perhaps Tamaki had talked him into it.

"No."

There was a moment where I nearly fell dramatically to the floor, but caught myself before the stray roses behind me managed to prick untimely holes in my skin.

"It's cut by half."

He was walking away before I'd composed myself enough that a response was even vaguely possible. I was left staring at his retreating figure, wondering if I'd heard him wrong, but knowing that, no, his words had matched up with the movements of his lips. 

He'd really said it.

My hands clasped together in excitement, a triumphant grin lighting up my eyes. I'd won something. For whatever reason and under whatever circumstances, I'd won something against Kyouya.

Now, if only it didn't feel as though he'd let me win, this would have been a birthday more perfect than even in my wildest fantasies.