This was written at the request of a friend. It is noticeably less... tragic than my other work as per her request...
And it most certainly not my best work.
Ah, well! Here goes my attempt at sappy, happy, love-love!

This one has no need for warnings, I think. No permanent scarring to be found here!
Thanks for reading.


The quiet shuffling of her feet against the cold stone floors was almost, but not quite drowned out by the raging roars of invisible gods that reigned over the night sky. Flashes of white cast mad, devilish shadows against the walls and floor, creating demons that flared out from her feet. Above these noises was that which grew steadily louder as she advanced, teasing her eardrums.
Her throat grew tighter, panting, and her strides smaller as she struggled against her own terror. Her hands reached forward in desperation, dousing rods, searching for the noise that kept her walking forward.
"You... you said..."
A roar of anger from the clouds above, and Haruhi threw herself forward, her arms wrapped around, fingers drawn tight with fear. Her eyes flicked searchingly side to side... But he was nowhere to seen. "Why...?" she found it hard to speak, her throat burning, and she breathed in shakily, air flooding her lungs.
Her trembling fingers reached forward towards the noise, and flinched back again as the loathsome sound broke against her.
She collapsed into herself, shoulders shaking as she pressed her hands against her ears.
Still the noise broke through.
But this noise was not the one that she feared. It was the gentle caresses of an artist's fingers against the bones of a lover. The moans and sighs of beautiful pleasure were a creation all of the artist's, as he conducted them into lulls and crescendos, peaks and throbbing rythms of pure ecstasy for the ears.
And yet this beauty no longer spurred her advancement along the lonesome corridor; it spurred her spite and a burning anger.
All rational thought was lost since the first strike of lightning, and her continuation along the corridor was like a gradual descent into terror striken madness.
He said he would protect her.
He said he would watch over her.
And yet, here he was, torturing her with this delectable melody which waged war in her mind with the echoing noise of the cracking thunder. He was butchering her mind from the inside with his glorious fingertips meeting those cruel keys.
These keys locked her up inside her own terror, and behind them was the innocent, grinning face of the man she loved.
Tamaki was now the shadows that lingered over her, he was the gods thundering, the white flashing, he was the tempting melody of moans, and most of all he was the very epitome of her agnoising fear.
All at once, the noise and flashing lights seem to dull and numb, and the one focus in her mind was that beautiful, horrific melody.
This ultimate focus brought her attention to the room at the end of the corridor; the first rational thought was that this room led to the piano. She knew that.
She lifted herself to her feet, still shaking, and with wide, anxious eyes and a pained look, she marched forward.
The soft noise grew louder and louder, the 'oohs' and 'ahhs' became the screams and songs of sirens, so beautiful but ultimately deadly.
She would defeat this.
Oh, yes, she would end this noise.
Her shaking fingers gripped the door handle, her heart thumping, audible to her ears, seemingly altering to match the beat of the music.
This loud, ugly and wonderful noise was everywhere; it was in her very veins.
She pushed heavily against the door, and fell through, leaning against it to prepare herself from the onslaught that she expected.
But, instead of the agnoy that she forsaw, it was as if all the senses that had flared out of control were suddenly quietened.
Before her was the simplicity of the man she loved creating music she loved. This music charmed her, calmed her, dulled her senses.
She was now at peace; content.
The flashes of white were now slow blossoms of light that bathed her in it's purity.
The noises that followed was merely gentle rumbling the caressed her.
The music of the piano was wonderful patterns that echoed each other.
At the centre of all this was the singularly most beautiful being she had ever met.
She longed to see him, to touch him, to feel his warmth, but just for a while she was content to watch him.
After what seemed an eternity, she could no longer settle for the distance that was between them.
She pattered across the room in her bare feet, crossing the distance lightened her heart with every step.
He was within reach. Yet he seemed almost ethereal. So focused on his music, so much a part of it. He wasn't meant for this world.
He was meant for something much more.
But she wasn't going to let him go anytime soon.
She leaned against his back, the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt a welcoming embrace. Although he had made no movement to hold her yet, it felt almost like the gentle caresses and rocking of a child being lulled to sleep. She clung to his shirt with her fists, as if in fear he would leave her at any moment.
The music lowered and slowed with every second, gradually dwindling into silence. He chuckled lightly, softly, "you took your time," he reproached gently.
"You said you would watch me," she whispered, almost inaudibly. "You said you'd be there."
He turned, and her eyes met those orbs of lilac that she treasured, the window to the most secretive, wonderful truths of what made him Tamaki. His lips began to move, and she was fixated by them, hypnotised.
"I was," he said softly, his fingertips gracing lightly against the keys of the white piano. She smiled lightly.
"You're a bully," she said with little assertion, focused still on his lips. He lifted her head, and found her eyes.
"Maybe. But I'm a blessing in a bully's disguise," he moved closer to her, lacing his arms around her waist, and smiled lightly as the flash of white had no affect on her focus.
"Blessing..." she mumbled, as their lips met in a sweet embrace, and the rolling thunder played them out.