Saffire Persian
Now you see me...
This is just a small one-shot that's been sitting inside my computer collecting dust for months. Not a favorite one-shot of mine, but I thought I might as well post it. Oh, if you don't know who I'm talking about at the end, type in the '[name] + Ouran' in google. The first or secondish result should tell you who the character is.
Disclaimer: Don't own Ouran.
A Different Kind of Love
Rating: G
Genre: General/Romance
Pairings: Implied Haruhi/Tamaki
Summary: She knew she loved him from the day she first met him.
Words: 632
Now, she wasn’t the type of ill-bred mongrel that chased after every male that came across her path, but Tamaki Suoh was different.
She didn’t know what it was exactly that made him so different. Perhaps it was because he had kind eyes and a warm smile, or maybe it was because of his daily sporadic outbursts as he physically reacted to whatever thought was currently swimming in his mind.
She didn’t know quite what is was, really, and quite frankly, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she loved him. That idea was simple enough. It was easy to see why he was so easy for her to love.
For instance, Tamaki would often escort her on her daily walk through the gardens, or to the nearest park not far from the Suoh estate. Neither she nor Tamaki ever grew bored of it. Sometimes they would both stay there, just walking alongside one another in silence until the sky turned to a near-rainbow haze and the world seemed to be suddenly limited to just the two of them. They never needed words to be able to communicate and never would.
During other times, he would take her into Mansion #2’s backyard, and they would play that hide-and-seek game that he was ever-so fond of. She found him every time, but he could never find her. He often got scolded for it, but he never took heed. He'd always be who he was, and she vowed to stay the same.
When he’d finally come home from his daily planned (but nevertheless spontaneous) itinerary, she would be waiting for him patiently at the door, watching his approach through the window with excited blue eyes. Her excitement could barely keep up with the happy patter of her heart. She would often bowl him over in her enthusiasm as soon as he stepped through the door, often cutting him off his usual airy comments about how splendid the day in question had been--on how bright and absolutely joyous the sun was or, if it was rainy, about just how exquisitely the rain had fallen down upon the cement like paint dripping from a French artiste's brush.
He never, not once, complained.
Perhaps that was just another reason why she loved him.
He loved her, too, she knew he did.
…But though he loved her, he didn’t love her like he did that girl – that Haruhi girl that he’d talk until sunrise about. He’d ramble on and on about what she had done that particular day (she tended to always be perfect, a natural); how she had spoken to him (not like every word from her wasn’t music to his ears anyway); and how he hoped she wasn’t eating that kind of fish again (The horror of it!).
If the sky was angry, full of flashing jolts of yellow light and fierce roars, he’d nearly work himself into a fit of hysterics, wondering if his Haruhi--his daughter-but-not-quite-daughter--was safe and sound. During his moments of uncontrollable panic, he would call that black-haired boy, Kyouya (who seemed to know everything that went on whether it was his business or not) and ascertain the fact that Haruhi was undoubtedly all right, hang up, pause for a few moments, then call again.
Deep within her heart she wished he would be her Tamaki and hers alone, but she knew that it would never be. Even if that girl never loved him back and found someone else to share her life with, he would still be loyally behind her, watching her back as she followed her own life’s path. Why? Because he loved her – even if he didn’t quite realize it himself yet.
He would, given time.
So, knowing that her battle for his heart was already a long-lost one, she did the only thing she could do for him: let him and that girl be.
It drove her mad sometimes, seeing her Tamaki and that girl together--there was no denying that she would give anything to be in that female's place, but couldn't, because there were some things that you just couldn't change by wishing. And that was love. Even she knew that. The only thing that kept her from being overwhelmed by that odd, twisting feeling that rolled up angry knots in her stomach was the knowledge that Tamaki still had a smile that he saved especially for her - a special one that was hers, and hers alone; he would never share it with anyone else.
Disclaimer: Don't own Ouran.
A Different Kind of Love
Rating: G
Genre: General/Romance
Pairings: Implied Haruhi/Tamaki
Summary: She knew she loved him from the day she first met him.
Words: 632
Different Kind of Love
She knew from the very first day she met him that she loved him.
She knew from the very first day she met him that she loved him.
Now, she wasn’t the type of ill-bred mongrel that chased after every male that came across her path, but Tamaki Suoh was different.
She didn’t know what it was exactly that made him so different. Perhaps it was because he had kind eyes and a warm smile, or maybe it was because of his daily sporadic outbursts as he physically reacted to whatever thought was currently swimming in his mind.
She didn’t know quite what is was, really, and quite frankly, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she loved him. That idea was simple enough. It was easy to see why he was so easy for her to love.
For instance, Tamaki would often escort her on her daily walk through the gardens, or to the nearest park not far from the Suoh estate. Neither she nor Tamaki ever grew bored of it. Sometimes they would both stay there, just walking alongside one another in silence until the sky turned to a near-rainbow haze and the world seemed to be suddenly limited to just the two of them. They never needed words to be able to communicate and never would.
During other times, he would take her into Mansion #2’s backyard, and they would play that hide-and-seek game that he was ever-so fond of. She found him every time, but he could never find her. He often got scolded for it, but he never took heed. He'd always be who he was, and she vowed to stay the same.
When he’d finally come home from his daily planned (but nevertheless spontaneous) itinerary, she would be waiting for him patiently at the door, watching his approach through the window with excited blue eyes. Her excitement could barely keep up with the happy patter of her heart. She would often bowl him over in her enthusiasm as soon as he stepped through the door, often cutting him off his usual airy comments about how splendid the day in question had been--on how bright and absolutely joyous the sun was or, if it was rainy, about just how exquisitely the rain had fallen down upon the cement like paint dripping from a French artiste's brush.
He never, not once, complained.
Perhaps that was just another reason why she loved him.
He loved her, too, she knew he did.
…But though he loved her, he didn’t love her like he did that girl – that Haruhi girl that he’d talk until sunrise about. He’d ramble on and on about what she had done that particular day (she tended to always be perfect, a natural); how she had spoken to him (not like every word from her wasn’t music to his ears anyway); and how he hoped she wasn’t eating that kind of fish again (The horror of it!).
If the sky was angry, full of flashing jolts of yellow light and fierce roars, he’d nearly work himself into a fit of hysterics, wondering if his Haruhi--his daughter-but-not-quite-daughter--was safe and sound. During his moments of uncontrollable panic, he would call that black-haired boy, Kyouya (who seemed to know everything that went on whether it was his business or not) and ascertain the fact that Haruhi was undoubtedly all right, hang up, pause for a few moments, then call again.
Deep within her heart she wished he would be her Tamaki and hers alone, but she knew that it would never be. Even if that girl never loved him back and found someone else to share her life with, he would still be loyally behind her, watching her back as she followed her own life’s path. Why? Because he loved her – even if he didn’t quite realize it himself yet.
He would, given time.
So, knowing that her battle for his heart was already a long-lost one, she did the only thing she could do for him: let him and that girl be.
It drove her mad sometimes, seeing her Tamaki and that girl together--there was no denying that she would give anything to be in that female's place, but couldn't, because there were some things that you just couldn't change by wishing. And that was love. Even she knew that. The only thing that kept her from being overwhelmed by that odd, twisting feeling that rolled up angry knots in her stomach was the knowledge that Tamaki still had a smile that he saved especially for her - a special one that was hers, and hers alone; he would never share it with anyone else.
And knowing that, Antoinette was content, for that one simple smile meant everything.
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My knowing what I now know about Antoinette cast the story in an even better (and cuter ^^) light when I re-read it.