A/N: Don't own Ouran still. One day I might. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the cute fluff. (Special thanks to TazChan for sticking through all my stories!! Loves!)
Twilring ever so slightly, the ballerina dances. The melody chimes throughout the room, a slow turning of the mechanical gears inside the porcelain box, something so simple, yet so delicate. The frame hung over it, an antique frame, perhaps from decades, centuries before. The glass protects the most important piece of all. The photograph. As the ballerina is dance senselessly, a frown drawn on her face, eyes closed as she is forever stuck in leap, the photo shines with happiness. A potrait of two males, identical twins, eight years of age at the time. The bay window pours in sunlight as birds chirp merrily, a Summer day spent lazily.
The ballerina keeps dancing, her shadow reflecting and bouncing off on the potrait of the two hand in hand, tongues out and peace signs up. A painting was all it was, yet to the twins...it was a happier time, when Mother and Father stayed home. The chime stops and the ballerina retreats, her shadow stopping from appearing. A soft mumble, blanket fabric rustling as the birds stop chirping. The twin maids come in, shutting the music box, closing the window and pulling the drapes. They walk out and shut the door, going to prepare breakfast.
"Hikaru...?" a soft voice asks, a head lifted up, messy orange hair shown through the semi-lit room. A groan in response from the sleeping form next to him. A soft smile is formed at the lips, the golden brown eyes lighting with happiness. Arms wrap around the sleeping one, the younger of the twins holding the elder, nuzzling into his neck. "Get up, sleepy head."
"Morning kiss, Kaoru." the twin reminds him, turning his head to face him. Fingers brush along the other's jawline, a taboo sparking at seven in the morning. Motions so fluid, it was like water, circling; leaving the other entranced. Lips met, eyelashes fluttering as Kaoru sighed into the other's mouth, Hikaru taking it in as a breath and letting it out. A reused sigh, smirks identical as the mischiefs were awaken. The ballerina popped open again, the shades were reopen, and the window opened up again, Kaoru leaning against the windowsill and looking at the tree. Hikaru gets up, a simple motion, yet yet so delicate. He walks over, arms wrapped around the waist, chin on the shoulder. Kaoru sighs. Hikaru sighs.
And the day begins with the same motions, until the ballerina stops twirling; the music stops chiming, the picture stops reflecting happiness, the birds stop singing, and the day stops pouring through their window. Time threatens to stand at a stillpoint for the two on a normal Saturday morning. Seven in the morning at breakfast is ready. Seven in the morning...and the two twins wish for it to never stop. Just like always. Mechanical gears start winding...
...and life keeps spinning.