A/N: My first actual Ouran story, minus my drabbles. (Check them out too.) So, what do you think? I really appreciate reviews. So please, please, please, review!

Haruhi had learned to expect the unexpected with the Host Club, but this was different.

It was her mother's death anniversary. Haruhi always felt a little off on that day, but it was worse than ever.

She took her time leaving the Host Club, unpacking and packing her things so carefully that the rest of the hosts began to feel uneasy.

"Haruhi," Kaoru began.

She didn't turn around.

Nobody else tried to talk to her; instead they all left, shooting concerned glances at her.

When Haruhi was sure that they were all gone, she sighed and settled into a chair.

"You've worried them."

She looked up to find Kyoya looking at her seriously, something that was almost a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry," Haruhi shrugged. "It's just that…"

"It's Kotoko-san's death anniversary," Kyoya finished. "I talk to Ranka-san often enough that I know what day it is today. You must miss her terribly."

"Yeah," Haruhi said softly.

She waited a few moments before saying anything else.

"I should be getting home," she told him, getting up and grabbing her bag. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kyoya-senpai."

"Crying does not suit you," Kyoya remarked casually.

She felt a flutter of disbelief (or was it something else?) as he caught a teardrop on his finger and proceeded to wipe the rest of her tears away.

"Kyoya-senpai," Haruhi breathed. "What are you–"

She was interrupted by his lips on hers. Haruhi was somewhat aware of the arms slipping around her waist and pulling her closer, but the girl was pretty much lost in the tingly feeling that their kiss generated. When Kyoya finally pulled away, Haruhi could have sworn that the famous shadow king was turning a pale pink color.

"You k-k-kissed me," Haruhi stuttered.

"Oh good," Kyoya replied, sounding amused. "I was almost afraid you wouldn't realize what that was."

His arms were still around her, and she could feel her cheeks burning.

"That was nice," Haruhi confessed quietly.

"We can do it more often then," Kyoya agreed.

Usually he had better things to say, but he couldn't think of anything. He had never been in this situation, and though he wouldn't admit it, he was slightly dazed.

Haruhi didn't know what to say either, though that wasn't really a surprise. She began to walk to the door, but in the middle of the room, she stopped and turned back toward him.

"I was going to lay flowers at my mother's grave," she said, biting her lip. "Would you–"

Kyoya strode over and took her hand in his.

"I'll buy the flowers," he offered. "The types you can afford probably aren't too great."

"Is this your way of being nice?" Haruhi groaned.

He leaned down to kiss her again, and though Haruhi enjoyed it, she suddenly wondering what Kyoya's intentions were.

"This doesn't have any merit for you," Haruhi pointed out.

"There's lots of merit," Kyoya assured her. "I'd say that keeping you happy would be very beneficial to me."

"Why?" Haruhi asked curiously.

"When you're sad, this sinking feeling, it just," Kyoya tried to explain.

He gave up, knowing that he could not explain that particular sensation. Then it hit him. Of course he could.

"I love you."

The three words rang in Haruhi's ears for a few moments. In her mind, they were repeated over and over again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

"I don't know what to say," Haruhi admitted, at a loss for words.

"Typical Haruhi," Kyoya smirked.

She squeezed his hand lightly, and they walked out the door together. Her voice was so soft that Kyoya could have imagined it, but he hoped he hadn't.

"I love you too."