Disclaimer: I dun own Ouran!
Waaaiiii...My 3rd TamaHaru ficcy but yeah, it's very mild… Wow, I seem to be addicted to all the TamaHaru-ness these days…
It was a weird feeling.
No, really, it was.
Watching him play the piano was weird. No, not weird as in odd—but weird as in a miracle of sorts. As I gazed at him while he played, I caught a glimpse of his face, serious, and I was astounded by the burning passion in his eyes. Because it was rare to see him like that.
Well they don't call me perceptive for nothing, you know.
Maybe it's just me, but somehow, he seemed to be absorbed in a world of his own. It was just like—it was only the piano and him.
Yet somewhere, I feel glad for him.
I know it reminds him of someone.
No, that someone isn't me.
I could never give him the love only she could fill.
And I know, wherever she is right now, she's smiling at him.
Oooohhh… A drabble! XD Anyhoo, if you're confused, I'll explain. It's a small appreciative piece for Tamaki's mother… I really feel sorry for her. You know, it would be really nice if Tamaki got to see her again, well, not at the expense of leaving the Host Club, of course. And here, Haruhi pinpoints how playing the piano reminds Tamaki-senpai of his mom. So, there, I hope it's all cleared up!