Chapter Text
“Oh, Kevin!” Denny sings out. Like the congregation at a sermon, he commands everyone’s full attention with a click of his fingers. The hundreds of loud conversations halt for him, relinquishing control of the room to Denny. “You will not believe what I found!”
“Man, what?” Herm says, a laugh escaping him as he looks over the top of Aaron’s head.
Aaron trails off, eyebrow twitching as he forces himself to turn towards Denny. He’s trained himself to tune Denny out, mostly, but it seems he’s the only one capable of doing so.
Denny is dressed in baggy jeans and what must be an XXL shirt, from the way it drapes over his frame, slid coyly off the shoulder and brushing just above his knees. He’s also got a backwards cap on, and he’s sourced a thick gold chain from somewhere – maybe his friend Gianni, who, as far as Aaron knows, is the only one at Ouran who wears them. But that’s not what he’s drawing people’s attention to.
Although this style is most certainly not Denny’s – though, annoyingly, he looks just as good in this getup as he does in everything else – no one pays much mind to it (beyond appreciatively checking him out).
No, because everyone is wearing a similar style, or at least an extreme mockery of the casual street wear theme. Kevin’s idea, supposedly. Though, Aaron suspects Herm might’ve pitched it. Herm seems right at home, and he looks the most relaxed Aaron has ever seen him. They’re away on “club activities”, which, for rich people, seems to mean a whole privately-funded school trip to the Virginian mountains. It’s their first night, so, of course, the host club had wanted to throw a ball, which didn’t at all fit with their campsite theme. Hence, “street wear party”.
Whatever that means. Aaron is just glad that he doesn’t have to fork out a few hundred for an outfit he’ll only wear once. He supposes he could’ve asked the others for help if it was a different theme, but there are only so many spare clothes Denny can have lying around.
Zane’s low hyena bark breaks over the crowd. “Where the hell did you get that?”
“I’m resourceful!” Denny thrusts the intricately-painted bongos into the air, waving them in Kevin’s general direction.
Kevin lets out a loud groan. He points at Denny, furious, and marches towards him. “Don’t you dare–”
“C’mon, Zane, let’s do the Senegal dance!”
“The Senegal dance?” Aaron mutters to Herm. Herm looks just as mystified.
Denny starts pounding away at the top of the bongos. Zane acts as if the music has overtaken him, moving just his left shoulder at first, before it catches to his right, then his whole body succumbs to the bit. His fists come up and he shakes them from side-to-side as he pumps his chest in a primitive motion.
“Yeah, there you go!” Denny hollers.
“No, stop that!” Kevin lunges for the bongos. Denny twirls around and bleeds away into the crowd.
“Come on, people, let’s do the Senegal dance!”
“Herm!” Kevin laments, spinning around to face the two of them. “Do something!”
Herm’s arms uncross as he nods. Kevin has a second for the relief to break on his face before it twists into shock, then resignation.
Beside Aaron, Herm has started copying Zane’s dance. “This what you wanted, Kev?”
The room around them picks it up. Kevin looks around at the chaos and tries to hide his smile.
“Ugh, whatever.” He hangs his head and throws in a pout for good measure, and it’s not long before a pretty young woman flounces over to him and says something doting. Unsurprisingly, Kevin’s mood turns around in an instant.
Aaron rolls his eyes. Is anyone in the host club sincere?
Aaron heads over to the bar. They’re not serving alcohol on account of them all being underage, though Aaron suspects that these rich students have other means of acquiring it.
“Just a Coke, please.” The bartender nods, and Aaron fishes in his pocket for his wallet.
The bartender holds up a hand. “There’s a tab,” she says.
Aaron frowns at her. Seems an odd choice for the host club, what with Zane’s insistence on sticking to the budget and with their guests definitely being able to afford soda. But, hey, one less thing he has to pay for.
Not that he’s paid for anything on this trip so far. The host club activities tend to leave him out of pocket, even though he’s got an after-school job now. It’s not technically permitted by the school – and by not technically permitted, he means explicitly banned – so he hasn’t told any of the guys. Aaron had saved all his earnings for this trip, but, to his surprise, the accommodation was paid for. He didn’t even have to worry about transport. Zane had picked him up in one of his family’s cars.
Aaron is just surprised that Zane knows how to drive. From his time around Denny and Kevin, he thought they’d all have private drivers chauffering them everywhere.
Aaron sips at his Coke and scans the crowd. There are a few people in his periphery who glance his way, then down at the ground.
Right.
He should be working.
Aaron drains the last dregs of his sugary drink and throws himself into the fray. “Care for a dance?” he asks the nearest person doing the not-so-subtle look-then-glance-away routine.
“I’d love to,” she says, and Aaron’s brain supplies the name Aisha. He’s getting better at that, at least for their regulars. “But I don’t know how to dance to this style of music. Maybe you could teach me?”
“Of course!” Aaron says before he can stop himself. Because, well, he doesn’t really know how to dance to T-Pain. Before Ouran, Aaron had gone to a private middle school that was just as white.
He takes Aisha’s hand and leads her further into the middle of the room, careful not to touch the delicate gold bangles sliding along her wrist.
He conjures up all the memories of his aunties and cousins and how they would dance, and tries to apply it here. It’s a lot of arm movement. Maybe too much.
But Aisha doesn’t seem to know better, and does her best to copy him. They’re both laughing, so that’s a good sign, right?
“Is it true there’s a bonfire?” Aisha asks him. Her voice chimes like golden bells.
“Oh, man, I hope so!” Aaron twists his head to search for the others, but they’re lost to the crowd. There’s still a distinct amount of “Senegal dancing”, so Denny has made his impact. “I haven’t been to a bonfire in so long. Do you think it’s too much to ask to hope that we have marshmallows?”
“Marshmallows?” Aisha asks, not unkindly.
“You haven’t tried a marshmallow before? Oh, well, now you have to! I’ll track down Kevin later and work it out. You know what’s funny, also, is that I bet you Kevin doesn’t even know what a marshmallow is, either!”
They laugh again, and Aaron forgets to be conscious of the way his body is moving. It’s nice, to just dance along to good music and forget all the weird things about his life for a moment.
“You’re teaching me all sorts of things tonight,” Aisha says. “Hey, weird question, but can you show me how to Dougie? I’ve never actually seen it done…”
“Um…”
See. Here’s the thing. Aaron definitely doesn’t know how to do the dougie. But something must be wrong with him pathologically, because what he actually says is, “Sure!”
The only thing that comes to mind is that one Doug cartoon. Aaron forms his hands into fingerpoints and rocks them back and forth.
“The hell are you doing?”
Aaron jumps, losing his coordination and stumbling into the firm, steady presence of Herm.
“Um, the doug–” he cuts himself off. “The Doug. You know, the cartoon?”
He braces himself for a ribbing. It doesn't come. The more he looks at Herm, the less steady he appears.
“Hey, are you alright–”
Three women crowd around him. Aaron takes a step back, sending a look Aisha's way, who shrugs and grins.
“Dance with us, won't you?” Says one of the girls. She has her hands curled around Herm's bicep, and is running it up and down his arm in an uncomfortable manner.
“Don't leave us by ourselves, Hermie!”
Aaron winces. Herm had scolded him once – “Don't you ever add no -y or -ie to the end of my name!”
But he'd been laughing when he said that. He's not laughing now. He stumbles after them. He's too large a man to drag around, but for the few weeks Aaron has known Herm, he's never seen Herm use his physical strength against another. Aaron wouldn't say he's people-pleasing, no, because maybe that requires a sense of one’s wants and needs that Herm seems to lack.
“You sure you're okay?” Aaron calls after Herm. The concern is swallowed by the crowd.
Something twists in Aaron's stomach.
“He can take care of himself,” Aisha says. She probably means it to be soothing, but…
“Sorry, I'm gonna find the bathroom.”
“That’s okay. By the back, over that way.”
Aaron nods his thanks and disembarks on the impossible quest after elbowing through a bunch of rich teenagers who seem entirely unaware of the others around them. Adding onto that, there must be a spiked punch somewhere, because more than a few people bump into Aaron.
Huh. Maybe Herm's imbibed too? It'd explain his unsteadiness just before. Has Kevin approved drinking? Probably not. No, and it's not like Herm would be the only one. Aaron would bet anything that Denny's got himself a pocket flask, at the very least, and Zane seems like–
“Zane?”
That's not what Aaron means to say. Especially not in the way he says it, too high-pitched and unable to disguise his surprise. Shock. Concern. Whatever you call it.
Zane straightens up from the marble bench holding a row of porcelain sinks. The boys around him gather close, tight eyebrows displaying their unease at Aaron's sudden appearance.
Aaron ducks his head and does not stare at the way Zane swipes his nose.
“Sorry,” he says, far too close to a squeak again as he strides quickly to the urinals.
“Aaron's cool,” Zane murmurs to the other boys. Then, louder and much faster, Zane says, “Right, Aaron? You're cool. We're cool.”
“Yes,” Aaron confirms, staring very hard at the wall above the urinal while he goes about his business. His head is spinning. Which is ironic, since it's increasingly looking like he's the only sober person in this whole building.
He makes quick work of zipping and then washing his hands, doing his best not to comment on the other boys’ abrupt departure nor Zane's high-energy hovering.
“So, bonfire, you excited? You and Herm can show us the ropes. If you're not too busy with the clients, that is. Good work with Aisha, by the way, I saw you two getting cosy earlier.”
“Mm,” Aaron says.
“You really look the part, by the way. Very authentic. And the guests seem to love it! Denny did a good job on the theme. Everyone's really gone all out. Speaking of, you could probably teach Herm a thing or two in the ladies' department. He’s been lacking lately. Nothing a little Aaron can’t fix, right?”
So, Zane is wasted.
“Uh-huh.”
“Look, I'll see you out there, alright? I got clients of my own to look after. Be ready in ten, though, we're heading outside. Better get one last dance in!” Zane squeezes Aaron's shoulders as he passes.
Unlike Herm, he's steady on his feet. Maybe Zane does this a lot?
Aaron doesn't like the thought. But, well, maybe he's just being a hypocrite. Everyone else here is imbibing in something, and it's not like Aaron is a stranger to drugs. Well, one drug, which is at least legal in some parts of America. But legality is just a method of state control and punishing minorities, so what does Aaron care?
He dries his hands on his jeans and heads back out.
Aisha's disappeared, leaving Aaron to get swooped by the nearest hawk – this one being a guy who dances far better than Aaron does – before the music winds down and Kevin's twinkling voice drifts over the crowd.
“Follow me, Mesdames et Messieurs!”
Their coloured flock obey their shepherd with excited obedience.
The late fall air has a bite to it, and Aaron shivers as the crowd presses in around him. He glances upwards, pleased to see the stars out, before he sees what Kevin actually wants them to look at.
An astounding pile of branches sits in the middle of a wide grassy circle, perimetered by long pine trees. Already, Aaron can see that whoever's assembled it has used the wrong kind of wood – it's clearly freshly cut from trees; too green and too full of water to create anything more than a smoky disappointment.
Kevin, not to be deterred (or, more likely, not realising anything's wrong – he probably paid someone to make the bonfire for them, and the person had thought it'd be a great bit to have this clueless Frenchman look like a fool), gets down with a lighter (provided by Denny) and some firestarters.
The firestarters catch and burn in a brilliant flash of orange flame. Kevin shrieks, then coughs as if to disguise it, and throws it quickly into the middle of the branches.
Some of the smaller twigs closest to it curl away, blackened but not ablaze.
The fire sputters out.
Aaron cringes away from Kevin’s baffled disappointment. Their leader’s head shoots up, wide-eyed and damn near pouting, looking desperately from one host club member to the other.
Aaron turns and walks to the treeline. As he crouches down, the whispers from their guests drift around him, confused but not yet disappointed. No, they have faith in Kevin. To this sect of the school, Kevin is not awkward, not endearingly oblivious, and simply not fallible.
Is it hard to be seen as so above the rest of them?
Aaron shakes his head. That’s not something he’ll have to worry about, at least.
He straightens, an armful of dry twigs, and heads back into the fray.
“Aaron!” Kevin says, relief seeping into his voice.
“I got you, KL,” Aaron says as he passes, freeing one hand to pat Kevin on the shoulder.
“All twigs are Kevin’s twigs,” Denny chirps.
“Don’t you start with that again!”
“Yes, Kevin, sorry, Kevin!”
Their guests laugh. It’s then that Aaron thinks that maybe Denny’s being loud on purpose. He’s drawing their attention away from Aaron, Zane and Herm, who huddle around the fire trying to fix Kevin’s mess. Maybe his ribbing serves another purpose, other than just being snarky?
Aaron pushes the twigs as far in as he can. “You got any more firestarter?”
“Sure.” Herm pulls out a small metal flask from his jeans. Aaron raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. That’s one mystery solved, at least.
Herm twists the lid off and pours the pungent smelling liquid around the twigs.
“Ugh, whiskey?” Aaron guesses.
Zane knocks his hand against Herm’s shoulder. Herm glances around, takes a swig, and passes the flask up to Zane, who gulps down a mouthful without so much as flinching.
Aaron reframes from saying anything stupid, like “Aren’t you supposed to not mix drugs and alcohol?”, and gets to work striking a match.
The first one catches straight away. It burns quickly down the thin spine of the match, and Aaron chucks it onto their fuel-additive. The flames come up blue, before leaping onto the twigs and turning orange.
The three of them step back, watching it for a minute. Slowly, the flames climb higher, mountaining past the twigs and licking at the thicker branches above them.
One catches.
“Yes!” Aaron cries out, looking for Kevin immediately. Kevin bounces over.
“You guys did it!” Then, quieter, Kevin drapes an arm over Aaron’s shoulder and leans in to murmur, “Thank you.”
Aaron turns to look at him. He’s very close, but it doesn’t feel weird. With Kevin smiling like that, like Aaron has single-handedly rescued him from certain death, it’s hard to think of anything else.
Hands roughly clap the back of Aaron’s shoulders. He stumbles out of Kevin’s grasp.
“A Boogie! A little birdie told me you still haven’t tried Celsius.” Denny tosses the can from one hand to the next, grinning as Aaron rights himself. “Well, a tall, prematurely-balding, old birdie.”
“I’m older than him,” Zane grumbles.
“I wouldn’t admit that,” Herm jokes.
“I guess not,” Aaron says slowly. He doesn’t know what’s about to happen, but Denny’s got that look in his eye. The last few times he had it, Aaron had gone from the host club’s slave to their newest host. “Why?”
“Why you look so damn suspicious? Get over here.”
Aaron trudges towards him. Denny's warm hand comes up to settle on his neck, using it to tug Aaron into his side. Then he drapes it around, passing the white can to the hand now close to Aaron's mouth while his other produces a set of keys from his pocket.
“You ready, A Boogie?”
“For what?”
Denny plunges the jagged edge of a key into the metal, splitting it open. Immediately, fizzy liquid glugs out of the fissure. Denny twists the can and holds it to Aaron's mouth.
Aaron's head tilts backwards at the pressure, and he starts gulping down the sweet drink while Denny cheers. His hand flies up to gain control over the can, and it settles over Denny's as he nudges them both into a better position.
Denny refuses to let go of the can, but doesn't fight Aaron, his smooth fingers rigid underneath Aaron's light grip. Around them, Aaron feels the crowd staring.
“There you go.” The words come out softly, right next to Aaron's ear.
Then the drink is finished. Aaron twists his head away and the last few drops splash down his chin and into the dirt. Denny crumples the can in his fist and tosses it in the direction of the fire, before moving his right hand to the small of Aaron's back.
“So, what'd you think?”
“I think that you're a bitch.”
“Good, right?”
“Delicious. Actually, do we have another?”
Denny snorts. He pats Aaron's back once, then separates. Despite this, the sensation of his physical touch lingers, like the formation of a burn in the shape of his five fingers: one invisible handprint on Aaron’s neck, the other on the small of his back.
Aaron rolls his shoulders to try and rid himself of the sensation.
“C’mon, you guys chug these all days and I can’t even get a second?”
“Maybe try not being in debt.” Denny’s quip lashes out like the crack of a whip, but lands as something warm and friendly to Aaron. Even though he’s still annoying and Aaron still can’t understand how anyone, let alone half the women at their school, could possibly find Denny’s humour endearing, he has to admit, it doesn’t take that long to get used to.
Aaron repeats Denny’s words in a high-pitched voice.
“That’s not even good, man. I expect better of you.”
“Fine, I’ll be the bigger person.”
Denny’s laugh sounds like he doesn’t want to be laughing.
“Oi, litterer!” Kevin calls out, suddenly beside them. As Aaron clocks his presence, he clocks the others too, standing just behind him and Denny like silent freaks. Have they been there the whole time?
Kevin’s arms goes around them both, the height difference enough that he can lean on them comfortably. In one hand, he has a bat, and the other, a heavy-duty flashlight.
“Are you gonna mug me?” Aaron’s half-joking. The spike of fear in his body is very much real, though, even though he knows Kevin would never hurt him. Kevin’s too… Kevin, for that to ever be a possibility. Get the bat in Denny’s hands, though…
“We’re gonna play a game! Well, games.”
“What’s with you and games?” Aaron asks, smiling so Kevin knows he’s not irritated. Kevin usually comes up with fun stuff for them.
“Inspired by the commoner experience –” Yeesh. Sure, whatever. “-and Zane’s insistence that I overspend–”
“You do,” comes Zane’s dry response. He has his arms crossed and looks as if he wishes he had his clipboard to reference.
“-we’re playing Spotlight! And Split the Watermelon. And any other games you can come up with.”
“Not spin-the-bottle,” Denny cuts in. “Aaron would be all over us.”
“You wish you had a piece of this ass.” Aaron slips a thumb into his baggy jeans and holds them out on display. The others groan.
“See this shit? This is exactly what I mean!”
“You’re wilding,” Herm says, turning his head the other way as if to distance himself from Aaron’s antics.
“Just for that, you’re gonna be our first Spotlighter!” Kevin says. He thrusts the flashlight into Aaron’s hands. His fingers press against Aaron’s eyes, forcing them closed.
Aaron complies, and keeps them obediently shut as Kevin’s presence fades. Huh. Aaron’s eyelids also feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with the fire.
He’s just glad it’s not a Denny-specific effect. Ergo, it’s probably not something Aaron needs to worry about.
“You gonna explain the rules?” Denny yells after what must be Kevin. His voice sounds loud because he's still by Aaron’s side.
“Don’t get caught!”
Aaron starts counting down from thirty. He gets to twenty, and cracks open an eye.
“You gonna run?” He asks. Denny startles and blinks rapidly, tearing his gaze pointedly away.
“Stop cheating!” Then Denny jogs a few paces, scoops up a fistful of dirt, and throws it in the direction of Aaron’s face. It’s too far away from him to cause any damage beyond dirtying his clothes a little.
“I’m catching you first!” Aaron hollers, shutting his eyes as Denny finally departs.
When his time is up, Aaron starts off in the direction he last heard Denny’s footsteps. He clicks the flashlight, and its powerful beam shoots outwards. He leaves the now-empty circle of firelight.
He catches a few guests, drawn to the sound of their giggling. Most of them are good sports about it, though one girl says, “Wow, you people are so creative, coming up with games that don’t cost anything!”
Which feels like something Denny would say, but, coming from her, it rubs Aaron the wrong way. He doesn’t know why, but the words twist something in his stomach.
Whatever. He just needs to ignore it.
He uncovers large groups of students, crammed in behind the tool shed, and when he checks inside the shed, there’s about twenty more. They groan and stamp their feet but head back to the fireside.
Now that the obvious spots are uncovered, Aaron’s at a loss. He still hasn’t found any of the club. The campsite has a fence around it to keep out any unwanted wilderbeasts, so it’s not like they could’ve gone too far into the West Virginian wilderness, but…
“Get your own spot!”
“I was here first!”
“Your fat ass is gonna get us caught.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Stop that, man! You’ve been spending too much time with Kevin, what the fuck is wrong with–”
Aaron clicks the flashlight off. He creeps forward, approaching a large tree. He keeps his footsteps light, scanning the dark ground for any stray twigs or crackling leaf.
As he circles around it, Zane comes into view.
He’s bent over, and… twerking?
At Denny.
Aaron’s stomach hurts from the burst of laughter rippling out of him.
“Zane!” Denny shouts, hitting Zane’s arm. “Look what you’ve done!”
Zane starts laughing too. “Should’ve gotten your own spot.” He crosses his arms over his stomach and leans his back against the tree.
“Wait,” Denny says, glancing over at Aaron. “Your flashlight isn’t on.”
“Oh, yeah, I wanted to surprise you guys–”
“So you haven’t caught us yet!” Denny sprints off into the gloom. Aaron curses and bangs the flashlight back to full beam.
“I got your heel!”
“No the fuck you didn’t!” Denny’s reply already sounds far-off.
Aaron spins around and shines the light at Zane, who’s still laughing.
“Yeah, you got me,” Zane surrenders between giggles. It’s nice to see him not so uptight for once.
“Help me look for Kevin?”
“He’s probably climbed something.”
“What?” Aaron directs the light up into the canopy above them. There’s nothing but branches and brittle leaves.
Zane heaves himself off the trunk of the tree and staggers towards Aaron.
“Woah, you okay, man?” Aaron’s hands dart out to steady him. Zane giggles again as he nearly topples sideways.
Aaron hurries to loop one arm around Zane. Zane meets his worried eyes.
“Boop,” Zane says, and touches a finger to Aaron’s nose. Aaron lets out a noise of affront. “Hey, no wonder Denny does this so much. Your nose is almost as big as–”
“C’mon,” Aaron snaps. “You’re fucked up. Let’s get you to your cabin.”
Zane scoffs. As Aaron moves them, he stumbles with him. “I’m not fucked up.”
“No, yeah, sure.”
“I’m not,” Zane mumbles again. “So the fuck what if I’m a little drunk? So is everyone else here.”
Aaron doesn’t bother responding to that. Zane keeps going anyway.
“At least I’m handling my shit, yeah? You think just because you’re Mister Scholarship that the rest of us are idiots? I’m top of my year. I’m not like Herm, two seconds away from–”
“What’s Herm got to do with this?”
Look. Aaron believes in giving people grace. People aren’t always their best selves when they’re inebriated, and he couldn’t care less what Zane says about Aaron when he’s this faded. But he’s not going to let Zane say anything about Herm.
“Eh,” Zane waves a hand, dropping the subject. Then, he stands up straight and brushes Aaron’s hand away from me. “I’m good, I’m good. Go back to the game.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Look, it’s the fresh air. I’m good.” To prove his point, Zane rights his shirt, and walks in a straight line. He does a convincing job. “Don’t let Denny win.”
“I never let Denny win!”
Zane looks at Aaron as if he doesn’t believe him, but that’s the end of their conversation. Zane cuts through the forest in the general direction of the cabins.
Aaron doesn’t move for a moment, staring after Zane’s retreating form. Just what was Zane going to say?
He’s not enjoying the game anymore, and just wants it to be over. He’s not sure how many guests there are left to find, or if it’s just Denny, Herm and Kevin.
He cups his hands around his mouth. “Guys!”
No response. There’s an owl hoot somewhere, but that’s about it. It’s getting cold, too.
Aaron wraps his arms around himself, scanning his surroundings half-heartedly with his flashlight. His body shivers; little bumps forming on his skin beneath his clothes. Something cracks behind him and he swings the light around. There’s nothing there.
Peering at the gloom around him, he tries very hard to forget that he doesn't particularly like –
“Boo!”
“Argh!” Aaron nearly drops the light. His heart hammers away from where it’s leapt up into his throat. “Jesus fucking Christ, Denny!”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Denny advises sagely.
Aaron glares up at him as he tries to steady his heart rate, leaning heavily onto his knees. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
“Come on,” Denny says, stealing the flashlight from Aaron. He transfers it to his other hand and then grips Aaron’s arm. His palm is firm and warm. “Let’s find Kevin.”
~
A metallic click resounds into the air.
Aaron’s head swivels. With it, he directs his phone’s flashlight, illuminating the side of a log cabin. The interior lights are off, leaving him looking at his distorted reflection in the dark window.
Another click, then a spark of auburn light. Aaron tucks his phone in his pocket.
“I think this is out of bounds. Is this where you’ve been the past few hours? You’re missing all the fun, you know.”
Herm doesn’t look at him just yet. He holds the joint up to his mouth, the unmistakeable smell of weed greeting Aaron as he approaches. He holds the smoke in for a beat, then slowly lets it out into the night, fleeing from the glowing tip of his blunt. He doesn’t seem as fucked up as he was earlier, which is probably a good sign. But, with his inebriation gone, so too is Herm’s general light-heartedness.
“Your phone light is on.”
Aaron looks down. It is, but he already knew that.
“I don’t want anything sneaking up on me.”
Herm raises his eyebrows at that. “Aaron, everyone thinks we’re the ones most likely to be doing any sneaking around here.”
Aaron copies Herm’s position, kicking up on the wall beside him. Slouched against the wood, Herm is more than a full foot taller than him, but from where their arms brush comes a sense of camaraderie.
“You not playing, either?”
“Hiding in the bush in the dark isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”
“I’d drink to that, but…” Herm gestures with the blunt.
Aaron chuckles. “And I’d smoke to that.”
Herm’s eyebrows climb higher. “You smoke? You?”
“I thought this was a judgement-free zone, man!”
“It is. Here.” Herm holds it to Aaron. He takes a hit.
It doesn’t feel like anything yet, but the familiarity causes some tension to bleed from Aaron’s shoulders.
“These damn rich people,” Herm says. It holds more contempt than it normally does.
When Aaron hands the joint back, he notices the stiffness in which Herm holds his hand. Herm pops the joint back between his lips and flexes his right hand, shaking it out. When he spots Aaron looking, he covers the back of it, folding it into his arms.
“I thought you injured your left hand?”
Herm grunts. Shrugs. “Never play a sport, man. Fucks up your body young.”
“You know, I used to do wrestling.”
Herm rolls his eyes. “You don’t gotta lie to me.”
“It’s not a lie! It’s the truth! You know what’s a funny story, actually, I quit wrestling because I got beat up so bad by this chick– like, she was huge, and I was concussed for two weeks. Two!”
A small smile brushes the corners of Herm’s lips upwards.
Their attentions are caught by the giggles of a young girl and guy slinking inside a cabin. They don’t seem to see Aaron and Herm.
When he looks back to Herm, something in his gaze has hardened.
“Hey. What do you think of all this, anyway? The club. I realised you never really got asked.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve only got to get ten more requests, right?” Herm offers the joint again and Aaron takes another hit. He lets the smoke settle around him before he continues. “I mean, I think it’s probably been a good thing. Don’t tell that to Kevin or Zane or–” Herm makes a scoff/snort sound– “or Denny, but, it’s pushed me out of my comfort zone, and made me interact with people I never would’ve otherwise. It’s good training, isn’t it?”
“Not if you’re forced.”
Aaron shrugs. “How else was I gonna do this, though? And I never would’ve met you.”
“No, you definitely wouldn’t have.”
Aaron’s gaze slides across to Herm. He’s staring blankly at the ground, shoulders hunched slightly inwards.
“You should quit the club,” Herm says. Aaron’s brows furrow. “It’s ten more requests. Zane can get fucked about his debt. Or, I’ll take it on for you.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”
“I chose this, right?” A bitter sounding laugh comes out in a harsh bark. “Might as well see it through. And save you from it. Have you thought about what you’re going to do, after all this?”
Aaron wraps his arms around himself. “Get back to studying, I guess…”
In truth, he’d been trying very hard not to think about it. His grades are barely scraping As, which would be fine if he were at any other school and had he not been on an academic scholarship at the ridiculously expensive Ouran. It’s the source of neverending stress, and, at the start, he’d been counting down the days until his debt has been repaid, but…
In this distance, Kevin’s loud voice drifts over. It’s not distinct enough to make out the words, but he’s heard that tone maybe a hundred times by now. It’s playful exasperation. Sure enough, Denny’s cheeky comments follow.
Aaron forces himself to stop smiling.
“Hey, I’m gonna head to bed. You know what’s weird, these cabins are huge! Lke, bigger than my house; it’s a shame we’ve all got our own ones. When Kevin said camp, I thought it’d be like slumberparty vibes.”
“You’re strange, dude.”
“My bad, Herm, I forgot you prefer rundown shacks. Nothing like home, hey?”
Herm rolls his eyes and takes one last drag, before dropping the blunt to the ground and extinguishing it with his shoe.
“Let’s do a God damn sleepover then.”
“Wha-what? Really?”
“Don’t make me regret this, Branch.”
Aaron spins around and waves Herm to follow him. He lets himself smile into the dark, self-satisfied, before fishing out his phone to light the way.
He fiddles with the key Kevin had given him, scraping it all around the lock before he eventually fits it in.
“Hurry up, man, you trying to break in or what?”
“Shush, sh!” Aaron lets them inside, flipping on the lights immediately. The bed is huge – maybe King-sized, though Aaron has never seen anything bigger than a double, so he’s not really sure what to compare it to.
Across the bed is a large TV, which has a playstation set up. Aaron had already played some GTA on it.
“Seriously, have you ever been to a camp with a fucking playstation?” Aaron says as he bounces across the room and flops onto the end of the bed.
Herm lingers in the doorway. His gaze darts around the massive room, as if he’s expecting someone else to pop out. Aaron waves him over, and the momentary hesitation ends.
“You know damn well I haven’t.” Herm settles down next to Aaron. He plucks the first controller out of Aaron’s grasp and starts sorting through games.
“Really? I thought the host club went on a heap of excursions.”
“Yeah, to, like, Barbados or Denny’s private island.”
“What, like Epstein?” Aaron’s jaw drops.
Herm shoots him an unimpressed look. “Your mind is something else, man. But, no, never a camp, definitely not within the state. So, I guess I can thank you for that. A normal fucking holiday for once.”
“Thank me? Wasn’t this Denny’s idea?”
“A joint Denny-Kevin idea, but, yeah, exactly. As if you’d agree to go somewhere fancy, even though they’d pay for you.”
“I mean, I don’t like being away from my Mom too long. It’s only us, so, I gotta look after her, you know?”
“Yeah.”
Something about Herm’s tone tells Aaron that he does know what that’s like. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t heard any of them speak of their parents much. He gets the sense that now isn’t the time to ask, though.
“Mortal Kombat X or eleven?”
“I didn't pick you to be so basic with that fashion sense of yours.”
“Shut up, man, those are universally considered to be the best!”
“Recency bias.”
“Big words for someone on an athletics scholarship. Did you mistake a dictionary for a tent to shelter under?”
Herm knocks Aaron's arm playfully. “What do you know about big, little man?”
“So, what, you like the OGs? The-the shit that came out in the 90s?”
“We're not that far apart in age, Branch. But yes. Mortal Kombat two is a classic.”
“Classic,” Aaron repeats, laughing to himself. He doesn't protest further as Herm loads up the game, though Herm does give him the player one controller back. They select their characters fairly quickly – Herm, because it seems like he plays this a lot, and Aaron, because he honestly doesn't care.
“My God, Aaron, the rumours just write themselves.”
“What's wrong with Kitana? She has a sword!”
Herm shakes his head and gestures for Aaron to start up the match.
Somewhere between Aaron’s fifth and fifteenth loss, the cabin door handle rattles.
Aaron nearly jumps off the bed. “What the–”
Herm laughs to himself and flops backwards on the bed. “Jesus, Aaron. It’s probably some drunk kid. You look so fucking scared right now–”
The handle rattles again, more forcibly this time. A moment of silence passes.
Then– BAM. BAM. BAM.
“What the fuck?” Aaron hisses to Herm, who still doesn’t look particularly bothered. In fact, he looks ready for bed, and he twists around to face the other wall, bringing the blankets up to his chin.
“Can’t get a damn moment of peace…”
Aaron leaps off the edge of the bed and slowly creeps towards the door.
BAM BAM BAM.
He clenches his fist to stop his hand from shaking, and flicks the exterior light on before he peers out of the peephole.
A startled yell escapes him before he can stop himself.
Frustrated, he undoes the chain and yanks open the door.
Denny’s doubled-over, laughing. “Oh, man, I got you good, didn’t I?” In his hands, he grasps a Scream mask.
“Not funny,” Aaron complains, slipping out through the door. He shuts it behind him. “Where’d you even get that from? And what do you want?”
“Damn, A Boogie, what’s got you so irritated? Did I interrupt something?” Denny waggles his eyebrows before adopting a thoughtful expression. “But I saw Innes go to his own cabin just before.”
“For the zillionth time, Innes and I aren’t dating.”
“Right. Yeah, well, have you seen Herm around? I went to his to check on him, and–”
“Did something happen?”
“What? No. Whatever. I’m just checking on him. Can’t a friend check on his homies?”
Ah. There’s that telltale defensiveness of a worried Denny. Aaron stops himself from smiling.
“He’s in here. We’re having a sleepover.”
Aaron opens the door and walks inside.
“A sleepover?”
“Do rich people not have sleepovers? I guess that would make sense. Why share a bed when you all have mansions, right? Seems lonely if you ask me, but– are you gonna come in or what?”
Denny’s hand stays wrapped around his door frame for the moment. He seems frozen at the threshold, but as soon as Aaron says something, he shakes his head, and steps through, dropping the mask outside for someone else to deal with, no doubt.
“Your bed big enough for three with Herm’s tall ass in there?”
“It’s a King. We could fit my whole family in there.”
“Jesus, Aaron,” Herm mumbles from the bed.
“What?”
Denny gives him a look. “You say some weird shit. Hey, wait, are y’all playing Mortal Kombat? Why the super old one?”
“That’s what I said!”
“Y’all don’t have taste. Denzel, take Aaron’s controller, I’m tired of winning.”
“Hey, this is my room, don’t you forget!”
Herm and Denny ignore him, but Aaron doesn’t mind. They bunch up against the headrest, shoulder-to-shoulder. That weird, warm feeling returns, settling in Aaron’s chest and lulling him into a sense of peace. It’s not long before his eyes start drooping, though he tries to watch the flashing colours on the screen. At some point, one of the others turns down the TV.
Aaron smiles when he realises, though he’s too foggy to say something. Everything is just so very calm. And, well, it’s nice. He feels a sense of comfort that he hasn’t had since he first started at Ouran.
If he were more alert, he woudn’t admit this to himself, but it’s been very, very lonely – not that he regrets his decision to apply to Ouran. Even though Denny and Zane and Kevin are so far out of his world, with their immense material wealth, he’s starting to think that money isn’t the answer to everything. And, even if his co-hosts aren’t perfect, they all keep showing up for him in their own way, so maybe that’s what matters. And, maybe, if he was being really honest, Aaron might be a little sad about the prospect of paying back his debt, if only because he has a hundred good reasons to quit the club and only four good reasons to stay.
Before he can acknowledge that thought consciously, however, he succumbs to the soft beckoning of sleep.