Some one-sided EclairTamaki drabble exploration. Call the setting somewhere in the anime ending of episode 26. Just something random and pointless. This is my early Christmas gift to SylverEyes from Your Queen of Crack Ships. xD (You shouldn't have given me that title…it will go straight to my head, you know this.) Feel free to tell me what you thought about this everyone. I love the comments. Hee.

Disclaimer: The day I own Ouran is the day Christmas is cancelled.



Through her ornamental theater glasses— marring reality with brilliant tones of bluish purple— his eyes never change looking straight back at her;

they are permanently trapped in a charismatic gaze, as it was when he was introduced to her initially by his Grandmother, his princely Host skills impeccable and the young blue eyed woman-spider finds his efforts clever and quaint but ultimately tiresome;

they are skimming the surfaces of fear and mental anguish like a feather before he collects himself, the carefully trained gentlemen smile reserved for her not quite reaching those eyes as the news of the betrothal had hit him and he is not chanting to himself Haruhiharuhiharuhi;

they are forever hollow of any romantic intention towards her as he sits motionless at the grand piano and watches her tiny towel-clad figure step out of the golden plated shower, fisting the long rod end of those blasted abnormally colored opera glasses, to turn back silently to the fish tank where his cell phone drowns from an earlier fit of her rage, and the yellow light off of the face (blinking with a photo of himself grinning excitedly and with his arm around a bored looking brown haired girl) wavers before blackening;

they are sad, hopeless, numb with regret;

"Were you ever loved as a child...?"

The warm wind whipping from the open hood of the rushing red corvette brushes the soft blonde bangs across his face. Electric blue eyes tick up a size wider before recovering, concealing themselves through the safety of bluish purple glass. "Why ever would you ask such a question?"

He gently shoves that arm aside, gripping her bare wrist firmly, and staring down at her seriously— with all the negative emotions she would ever see fixed to her. One of her delicate pale hands curl the slim fingers into her palm fiercely as the long haired woman answers honestly, "I was loved and honored...far more then you were as a child..."

"I think you were lonely." The phony gentlemen smile returned but yet his eyes were not sad nor hopeless or full of regret from her cruelty— they shone back at her streaked with the sunset in her copper colored hair and her expression gaping child-like as a film of tears builds, with another feeling entirely, one that tightens her chest. Warmly, he rests his other hand over hers still gripped. "As I was."

Slowly slipping free of him, she laughs wildly as the car speeds down the highway, one tattletale tear sliding from the corner of her right eye.