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Camus’s day off had a productive start. She’d rolled out of bed at 6 to tackle the day ahead, from sweeping and scrubbing the floors, to washing the windows, to cleaning the bathroom in the small apartment she shared with her father — who often slept in his office at the local university. By 8, Camus had finally finished dusting and decided to head out to stock up the fridge. She’d have to run by a few places to find the best bargains, but she had the whole day to find what she needed. Maybe later, she could do a bit of reading or studying…
…Is what she thought.
In reality, as Camus turned the corner back to her apartment complex, arms laden with groceries, she spotted several familiar figures standing right in front of the gates, their backs, thankfully, still turned to her. She froze.
Right, how could she forget? The moment anything started going her way, the universe liked to pull a grand prank on her. Such was her life.
Camus stumbled backwards before the group had a chance to notice her, pressing her back against the wall behind her. She peered around the corner again, trying to confirm she wasn’t hallucinating. Those idiots-!!
How did they even know where she… actually, nevermind. Camus supposed that when you were rich enough to have lost all common sense, you could pretty much find out whatever you wanted to about a person. Including their place of residence, apparently.
Ugh! And they’d even parked their fancy car — sorry, cars, plural, because they were too fabulously wealthy to carpool, no, no — right at the front, which meant other residents and neighbors were gawking at them. Milo appeared to be shaking Mū by the shoulders, no doubt spouting melodramatic nonsense at him, as Mū gave a calm and pointed reply.
Camus felt a migraine coming on. Screw it. What did she have to hide from these people? She strode forward, approaching the group just as Milo was directing them to be “proper” guests (What proper guest didn’t send advance notice in the first place?!).
“And remember, we can’t say or do anything that might offend Camus or her father-“
“It’s too late for that. I didn’t invite any of you!” Camus snapped, leveling the group with a sharp glare.
The group startled (well, aside from Shura, who appeared just as stone-faced as usual), but they recovered quickly enough, unfazed by her words.
Milo looked her over, his eyes glittering. He gave her a thumbs up. “Wow, Camus, that sweater is adorable on you!”
“Shut up and go home!” she shouted, eyes ablaze.
Milo fell to the ground, tears streaking down his cheeks. His darling Camus shouted at him! And the worst part was, she was even cute when she was angry…
Camus turned to the rest of the group. “I can’t believe you let Milo rope you into this! Especially you, Saga.” She pointed at the boy in question, who now stood ramrod straight as he became the focus of Camus’s attention. “I’m totally disappointed in you!”
Saga felt shock wash over his body. Disappointed… He muttered the word to himself, his face pale as a sheet. Lost in a daze, and totally unresponsive to Kanon’s curious prodding. Meanwhile, Mū was wise enough to keep his mouth shut, content to observe the suffering of the others.
“Hey, wait-“ Milo said, recovering from his depression in record time, “Are you saying you expect more from Saga than from me?!”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” Camus grumbled, growing more self-conscious about their audience by the moment. “Seriously, what are you guys doing here? Shouldn’t you be off playing polo or having yacht parties or something?”
“Why, Camus,” Milo replied, his melodramatic tone telling her he was about to say something severely irritating, “is it not the sacred duty of a friend to visit his treasured companion in order to check in on her — or him, or them — every so often?” He struck a pose, holding a hand out towards her. The air around him glimmered. Camus’s eyes hurt.
If she knew one thing about Milo, it was this: that boy was as persistent as he was obnoxious. Which meant that if she turned him away now, he’d hound her again in the future. Her father, ever the pragmatist, always taught her that it was better to get things out of the way as early as she could.
Camus sighed. “Follow me. And tell your drivers to park somewhere else!”
Milo gave an audible cheer. He was so not cute.
“Don’t get too excited,” Camus said as they approached the door to the apartment. “I’m giving you ten minutes, and then you need to go. I have limited free time.” And patience, she thought.
“Not a problem!” the host club responded in unison.
Camus had a distinct feeling it would be a problem. She had impeccable pattern recognition, after all. Still, she turned back to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open to allow everyone in.
“It’s small,” Shura remarked as the group stepped in behind Camus.
“Yeah, well, we don’t exactly need a whole lot of space,” Camus replied.
“Heh, it’s the perfect size for you, Camus,” Kanon jeered, ruffling her hair as he passed her on the way to the couch.
What was that supposed to mean?! She glared at the back of his head. Saga wordlessly shuffled past her to settle next to his brother, still staring off into space.
“I’d say it’s pretty standard in terms of commoner dwellings,” Mū remarked. He smiled at Camus. “It is quite amazing how well-organized one becomes when living in such compact accommodations!”
Camus’s brow twitched. “You don’t have to struggle to compliment the place.”
“Don’t listen to them, Camus!” Milo cried. “I think you and your father have a beautiful home! Just look at how lovingly decorated it is, and on such a tight budget.” His eyes sparkled. He seemed genuine, at least.
“Thanks, I guess.”
Milo’s eyes lit up as something caught his attention. He stepped over to one of the shelves near the entryway. “Ah, I didn’t know you collected snow globes,” he said, picking one of them up and turning it over in his hand. “That’s so cute!”
“Don’t touch those-!” Camus snatched the snow globe from him, carefully placing it back on the shelf with the others. Her grandfather had gotten each of them for her during his travels, and she had no faith that Milo wouldn’t slip and break something.
“Hehe, sorry,” he said, and then, under his breath, ‘Definitely not as bad as in my nightmare…’
Camus wanted to grab Milo by the shoulders and tell him to keep her out of his weird delusions. This visit was going on too long already…
And as it turned out, cramming five teenage boys into a living room meant for two meant a lot of compromise. Camus had to drag the dining chairs into the room for Shura and Mū, and even then, Milo and Camus were relegated to sitting on the floor (Camus as the host (despite her guests’ rude imposition) and Milo as an enthusiastic volunteer).
After the boys were settled, Camus said, “I’ll get you guys something to drink, but that’s it, alright?”
“You know, for a host, your manners are kind of lacking,” Kanon said, picking at his ear.
Camus resisted the urge to hit him. That’s the exact reaction he wanted anyways. With an expertly trained mask of calm, she asked everyone what they wanted (yet another in her long list of mistakes). Naturally, each of them said something different. Green tea for Shura, sparkling water for Mū, “freshly squeezed” orange juice for Kanon (she’d sooner squeeze lemons in his eyes — breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…), and “commoner’s” coffee for Milo. Saga was still unresponsive, but Camus decided that since she was already preparing four different drinks, she’d just serve him the same thing she was making for herself: black tea.
She heard some back and forth chatter from the living room, but every time Camus glanced over her shoulder to check in on her uninvited house guests, Milo grinned at her from ear-to-ear, with Kanon sitting in unusually solemn silence next to his brother. Mū was marking things down in a notebook (like usual), and Shura seemed to be quietly observing his surroundings.
…It wasn’t like she hated her fellow hosts, alright? It’s just that they had a supernatural tendency to get on all her nerves at the worst possible time. If they’d just asked to come over, instead of showing up out of the blue, then maybe… maybe Camus wouldn’t have minded so much. But they were a ridiculous sort, and Milo most of all. Always jumping in too quickly and with far too much enthusiasm. Maybe it was part of their charm, not that Camus would admit it. And sometimes you had to focus on the good parts of a bad (or just plain weird or awkward) situation. It wasn’t often that she listened to that part of her father’s advice — in fact, she mostly used it while hosting — but now seemed like an alright time to try in her daily life, too.
Camus gave one final sigh, then squared her shoulders and gathered up the drinks. As she moved back to the living room and set the drinks down, she said, “Look, I appreciate you guys taking the time to check in on me, but I’m fine, really. Even if I don’t have an army of butlers waiting on me hand and foot.”
“That’s a relief to hear,” Mū replied, picking up his drink. “Especially considering how frantic Milo-“
Milo cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Haha! Frantic? Who’s frantic?! I was just eager to see my friend on our mutual day off from school!”
Mū shoved Milo’s hand away. “Right, of course. Why else would someone call at 7 in the morning on a Saturday, if not to set up a casual visit? My mistake.”
“This doesn’t look fresh,” Kanon cut in, peering into his glass.
Camus rolled her eyes. “Just be glad I gave you anything at all. Don’t look at it like that, it’s not poisoned.” Much as she was tempted to make it so…
“Hush, Kanon,” Saga reprimanded, still slowly recovering from his shock. He took one of the teacups, noting the chip near the handle. He looked at Camus and gave a light nod. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Camus smiled. Ha! Finally, an appropriate response, though it was only fitting that it came from Saga. “It’s no big deal.”
Milo practically flew back to his spot next to Camus, taking a large gulp of his own coffee. “Why, Camus, this drink is just delightful! I thank you from the deepest depths of my heart for taking the time to-“
Camus turned to Shura. Really, Milo was just too much! “Is the green tea any good? Sorry, it’s more my dad’s thing, so I’m not used to making it myself.”
Shura flushed, having Camus’s attention on him. He nodded, muttering, “It’s nice.”
“That’s good to hear,” she said, another smile gracing her face.
Milo sobbed.
Kanon clicked his tongue, taking a sip from his own drink. What a bunch of suck-ups…
Mū glanced at his watch. “It’s close to lunch time. Why don’t we order something to eat?”
It wasn’t like she had that much of an issue with the idea, Camus’s earlier stress fading as she sipped at her tea… it was just that- “If we get something fancy, you guys are just going to tack it onto my debt.”
“Hardly!” Mū replied cheerfully. “Photos of you sell quite well. We’ll just use the funds from those sales.”
Camus’s eye twitched. So she’d really be the one paying for it after all… “Fine. What did you have in mind?”
Before Mū could give a proper answer, Milo cut in. “Camus has already suffered our imposition enough today, men! It would only be fair to take her out for a proper five-star meal!”
“I suppose that is true. Let me make a few calls and see if I can’t set something up,” Mū replied, standing up. “Do you mind if I use your phone, Camus?”
“Sure,” she said. “It’s in the kitchen.”
As Mū stalked off to make his calls, all Camus could think of was juicy steaks and buttery lobsters… To be able to have a taste of something so decadent… Well, she was a simple girl at heart. And anyone would yearn for good food, alright? As she drifted back to reality, she realized that Kanon and Milo had started arguing, and she shared an exasperated glance with Saga.
Things calmed as Mū returned from his task. “I was able to pull a few strings and find us a table somewhere nearby.”
“Where?” Camus asked.
“I figured I’d surprise you,” he replied. “We should get going now, though.”
“Oh, sure.”
The rest of the group filed out, eager to eat a midday meal, though Camus stayed behind to put the dining chairs back in their place and to leave the dishes in the sink. As she headed for the door, she noticed Milo was still in the living room, staring at one of the picture frames.
“Milo? You’re coming with us, right?” she said, approaching him.
“Is this your mother?” Milo asked.
Camus stopped in her tracks, taking a better look at the portrait he was standing in front of. Oh. She recognized that one. She walked over to stand next to Milo, gazing at the picture hung lovingly on the wall.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice quiet. “She died ten years ago, but we still like to remember her.”
“I see…” Milo said. He looked down at her, his eyes looking misty. Always such a bleeding heart. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It’s been a long time,” Camus said, blinking up at him. “She had a heart condition, so Dad and I knew it was coming.”
Milo looked a bit startled. “Her heart? Does that mean you-“
“No.” Camus cut Milo off before he could get so far ahead of himself he started calling for medical teams, cardiologists, geneticists — anyone and everyone he thought might help. As if those people had nothing better to do! She continued, “After I was born, my grandpa demanded that I go through all sorts of medical and genetic testing. He was furious my parents had me, even knowing about Mom’s condition. Fortunately, I didn’t inherit any heart defects, though Grandpa comes every year to check up on me anyways.”
Milo’s relief was tangible in the sagging of his shoulders and the small smile he now wore. “Seems like your grandpa really has your back.”
Camus shrugged. “He’s a traveling physician, so he’s not around much, but… he’s here when it counts, I suppose...” She shook her head, willing away the nostalgia that always followed her when she thought about Krest. “Anyways, we weren’t too surprised when Mom passed. It was a long time coming.”
“Still, you must have been sad.”
“I suppose I was, at the time. But now I’m just glad she’s not suffering anymore.” Camus closed her eyes, picturing her mother. Bright eyes and a wolfish grin… even at her lowest, she never let go of that inner strength. “She always encouraged me to make the most out of life… no matter what hardships came my way. Whenever I’m feeling bad, she’s the first person I think of.”
“…Sounds like she was quite a woman,” Milo said.
Camus nodded.
“It seems like she was pretty energetic,” Milo continued, his voice taking on a lighter tone. “Haha, hard to imagine the two of you are related.”
Camus’s eyes snapped open, looking at her companion. “…Is that a veiled insult?”
Milo floundered, his face flushing. He waved his hands in denial. “No! Just an observation!”
Camus hummed, looking back at her mother’s picture.
“…Well, I can see where you got your good looks from!” Milo said.
“I’ve actually been told I look more like my dad.”
“I feel like you’re making this situation awkward on purpose.”
Camus couldn’t help the way she smiled, but she hid her amusement before Milo could see it. “Serves you right for showing up at my place unannounced.”
“Hah. That’s a fair point…” Milo rubbed the back of his neck, looking oddly serious. “Look, I’m sorry for barging in on you like this-“
Camus shook her head. “I’m kidding,” she said. “It’s fine. I guess I had plans, but it’s not like I was doing anything important after all.”
And if she were being honest with herself, it felt good to talk about things like this. She was used to being on her own, driving herself relentlessly towards success. As much as her father tried to get her to let loose, it wasn’t in her nature to relax. The host club… as much as she hated to give them credit, but they helped. A little bit. And Milo, too, as obnoxious as he could be at times… it was obvious he put his heart into everything he did, even if he could be short-sighted, and even if he overdid it sometimes. He was a great guy, really… and almost… sort of cute?
Unbeknownst to Camus, her expression towards Milo softened, and Milo’s heart melted. Ah-! So adorable-!
“Well, we shouldn’t keep the others waiting,” Camus said. “Someone’s gonna come looking for us at this rate.”
“Ah, right! Let’s g-”
As Milo turned towards Camus, he slipped on a rag — one that Camus had misplaced during her routine floor scrubbing earlier that day. Camus had no time to react as Milo toppled over, right on top of her. Her head spun and stars swirled in her eyes as she tried to come back to her senses.
Milo himself had come out okay, though a bit shocked by the sudden fall. He was really more worried about Camus! It looked like she hit her head… He placed a hand on her cheek and said, “Hey, you alright?”
At that moment, someone shouted in surprise. Milo looked over to see two children in the open doorway, their eyes wide with unrestrained shock, which slowly turned to rage.
And then, Milo was attacked by a pair of elementary schoolers.
“Get away from Camus!” the green one shouted, beating Milo over the head with his small fists.
The blonde one was quieter, but kicked at Milo’s shins like they’d personally wronged him.
Camus blinked, the onslaught of sights and sounds snapping her back into reality.
“Isaac, Hyōga, stop that. I’m fine.”
In an instant, the boys ceased their attacks just long enough for Milo to roll to the side, and for Camus to get to her feet. As soon as she was up, the two darted behind her, glaring daggers at Milo as he tried to stand up himself. He was still reeling from their blows…
“Here,” Camus said, reaching out her hands to pull Milo to his feet. The boys clinging to her sweater hissed at him, looking very much like a pair of angry kittens.
“Oh, are they yours?”
Camus and Milo’s heads whipped towards the front doorway, where Mū, Saga, Kanon, and Shura were peering in.
Mū continued, “We passed them on our way down. I’m guessing these are the students we’ve heard so much about?”
“Ah, yes,” Camus said. “I can’t believe I forgot about our tutoring session today.” She sighed. No more unplanned weekend outings for her. Honestly, she was just glad the two had shown up before she’d gone out. She looked up at Milo. It seemed like a nasty bruise was starting to form on his temple… “I apologize for Isaac and Hyōga. They’re sweet, really.”
Milo glanced down at the boys stubbornly glued to her sides with no small amount of skepticism. If Camus said so…
“Sorry, you guys,” she continued. “I think I’ll have to stay back this time.”
“That’s fine,” Kanon said. “We’ll just drop in on you some other weekend.”
Camus’s eyes narrowed. “Do rich people not know how to call ahead?!”
Meanwhile, Milo was panicking! He didn’t want to leave so soon — such a short visit, how could he say goodbye to Camus?! They were getting along so well! In a desperate bid to prolong their time together he blurted out. “W-wait! Why don’t we eat here?”
The rest of the group looked at him in surprise.
Surprisingly, Camus seemed to consider the idea. “I guess I was already planning to make something for Hyōga and Isaac…” she sighed. “Alright, fine. As long as the rest of you are okay with something simple.”
“Sounds great!” the rest of the host club said in unison, with varying degrees of energy.
“And you have to leave after lunch! My students can’t focus with so many distractions.”
Resounding agreement from the host club again, though less enthused this time. Everyone returned to their places, dining chairs moved back to the living room, and Camus sent Isaac and Hyōga to grab the desk chairs from her and her father’s rooms.
Camus turned and headed for the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves. Cooking for eight would be no simple task. A pair of footsteps followed her, and she turned to see Milo behind her.
“I figured I should help you cook,” he explained. “Since it was my idea in the first place.”
Camus blinked. And then a smile overtook her face. “Milo, do you even know how to peel a potato?”
He flushed. “W-well, it can’t be that hard, can it?”
She covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Okay, okay, get over here, rich boy. I can show you what to do.”
Milo smiled at her in turn, stepping over to the counter next to her. The size of the kitchen and Camus’s ardent instruction meant they had to lean in close, as Camus guided his hands through the motions. The chattering coming from the living room fell into the background as the two cooked alongside one another. The midday sun streamed through the window as Camus and Milo fell just a little more in love with one another on that fateful Saturday afternoon.
(Not that either would acknowledge those feelings anytime soon.)