{I know, I know. This should be the next chapter of Hidden Feelings, Secret Desires or Chocolate is Temptation... But you know my muse? It's REALLY unpredictable. Anyway... Hope you enjoy ;) I don't own Ouran HSHC, sadly...}

Kyouya was confused for nearly the first time in his life.

He didn't know what it was that he felt when he glanced at Haruhi's kind expressions during Host Club hours. He didn't know what it was that he felt when he watched Tamaki flirt with Haruhi, the blonde completely oblivious to his own feelings. He didn't know…

Oh Kyouya, don't be silly. You know very well what it is that you are feeling.

Kyouya adjusted the position of his glasses on his nose, so they rested more comfortably. He didn't like wearing glasses. Too bad he couldn't see a damn's worth without them.

The Club was in session, tea being poured, girls' delighted laughs and squeals audible from every direction. Kyouya found his gaze lingering on Haruhi's actions. He pretended to scribble down notes in his notebook as he watched from the side of the room.

She was in her boys' uniform, short hair combed behind her ears messily. She sat on a fancy, crimson couch, smiling at two girls who had requested her.

"My favorite food," he heard her say, "is, um... Well, good question." Kyouya strolled a few steps forward so as to hear and see her better. Now he stood no less than ten feet away from the couches that constituted Haruhi's area.

"Well," she continued, and adorable musing expression on her face, "I like tuna. Sushi, I like sushi a lot." The two blondes sitting on the opposite couch watched her unfalteringly, nodding at everything she said with huge, shining eyes. "And I like ramen. Ramen is good. So is rice, I like rice with mostly everything… White rice, not brown… Though now that I think about it… Brown rice is really tasty with plum vinegar and sesame seeds…"

Haruhi seemed to break out of a trance and she nodded once at the girls, and gave them a cute smile. "I suppose I could go on forever!"

The two girls kyaa-ed, hearts in their eyes.

"Oh, our time is up!" The skinnier blonde exclaimed, pouting. She clung to her heftier friend as they jumped from the couch, waving, whispering, giggling, and finally, leaving. It was the end of the day for the Club, and girls were getting up and leaving reluctantly from every couch.

Soon the room was empty except for dirtied dishes, plush couches, glass coffee tables and the Host Club.

Kyouya sighed, and looked down at his feigned scribbles of writing. Oh no. He had actually been writing that whole time. He saw what he had written and grimaced. He had to get rid of that paper right away. On the top of the blank, white page, it said in neat, small handwriting:

Isn't she cute? She is so damn cute and you know you like it, Kyouya.

It was creepy. As if Kyouya's inner self resided in whatever part of the brain makes you write. He ripped the paper from the top of the clipboard and crumpled it up, stuffing it in a pocket of his jacket. He would throw it out later.

Honey was pulling on Morinozuka's sleeve, talking in his babyish voice that many girls seemed to find irresistible. "C'mon Mori, you promised you'd take me to that bakery today, c'mon, I wanna go now!" The senior pouted, hugging his usa-chan tightly. Mori nodded, and the two left with quick goodbyes to the rest of the group.

The twins were saying something annoying to Tamaki. Kyouya heard the words "Haruhi's," "Father," and "Aren't." They were too preoccupied to notice Haruhi's quietness. Usually she would have been putting an end to the teasing by now, Kyouya was sure. Curious, he sat next to her on the couch that she had not moved from.

"What are you thinking about that makes you so quiet?" Kyouya cursed himself silently. He was never one for subtlety, and he wasn't sure if Haruhi appreciated the trait.

"Ah…" She turned to him, a little frown on her lips. "I'm just thinking about the huge amount of money that vase was worth. I know I won't be able to pay it off before I graduate. It's just that I feel so bad that – " She blinked, and stopped talking. "Why?"

Kyouya thought of a smooth response as quickly as he could.

"You don't usually stand by while Tamaki is in the corner insisting that he is your 'daddy,' that's all." It was just that you looked so cute, with that little frown on your face, I couldn't resist but get a closer look.

"Is he?" Haruhi stood quickly and headed towards Tamaki and the twins. "Tamaki," Kyouya could her hear saying in a bored and vaguely offended voice, "you are not my 'daddy,' and Hikaru? Kaoru? You two shouldn't be so mean about it!"

Kyouya sighed. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the couch. He could hear Tamaki's indignant protest, the twins insisting that they should be allowed to annoy Tamaki "because it was a really fun game." Soon the familiar bickering of them all faded into peaceful monotone, and Kyouya became all too aware of the warm sunlight filtering through the windows. He could feel the soft velvet covering of the couch whispering against the back of his neck, the cool metal of the clipboard and notebook in one hand…

The clipboard slipped out of his hand and landed with a dull thud on the plush, yellow carpet below. Kyouya had fallen asleep.

***

Haruhi poked Kyouya awkwardly on the shoulder. Tamaki and the twins had gone home much earlier, but Haruhi had stayed to study. Now that she was leaving, she thought she should wake Kyouya and tell him how late it was. It was nearly seven, and the sun was setting, drenching Music Room Three in a golden light. Haruhi had gotten caught up in her books, studying determinedly until she lost herself in the promise of a stellar education. And now it was nearly seven.

"Kyouya." She said his name carefully. She didn't like waking people up –she knew how lovely a dream can be, and Kyouya looked like he was sleeping peacefully. But she knew that he probably had places to be, and she had to wake him up. "Kyouya!"

"Hm?" The boy's eyes fluttered open. He pushed his glasses up his nose with a long index finger. Haruhi never understood why he did that. They always slipped back down again within a matter of seconds. Maybe he liked the imposing flash of light on the glass that came as a result of the action.

"It's late. I was studying. But I'm leaving now."

Kyouya straightened himself on the couch, sat upright. Haruhi noticed that his clipboard and attached notebook had fallen to the ground. She leaned down and picked it up, handed it to him. She felt his eyes on her the whole time.

"Thank you for waking me."

"No problem…" Haruhi trailed off. She wasn't sure why, but she really wanted to ask him if he'd been having a nice dream. He had looked so happy.

"What? You look like you want to ask me something." Haruhi started. How did he know? He was so perceptive…

"I –yeah. I was just wondering what you were dreaming about."

The boy looked up at her, their eyes meeting. Kyoua's eyes, Haruhi noticed, were black, deep black. They seemed to bore into her soul. Haruhi felt bared under his gaze. It was almost awkward.

He stood and looked away out the windows, breaking the moment.

"Haruhi."

"Yeah?"

"I –" Kyouya's voice faltered. Haruhi took a step forward, navigating between the coffee table and couch to stand beside him. She wondered what Kyouya was going to say. She couldn't remember ever hearing him stop in the middle of a sentence like this. Haruhi felt anticipation, though she didn't know what for.

"I'm sorry. Please excuse me." Huh? Haruhi looked at Kyouya. His expression was tight, he was grasping the clipboard so hard his knuckles appeared white.

"Excuse you for what, Kyou –" And then it happened.

Kyouya dropped the clipboard again, and this time it did not land on the carpet. Clang! It hit the tile floor. He turned and gathered Haruhi in his arms, pulling her tight, so tight against his chest. He leaned down, pressed his lips against the top of her head.

Haruhi didn't know what to do. She stayed docile in his embrace, arms tentatively moving around his waist with a mind of their own.

He pushed her away from him, but only to hold her by her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. He gently shoved her down onto the couch behind her, settling on top of her now horizontal form. Haruhi lay on the couch, her ankles and feet falling off the end. What was happening? Should she stop him? What was his plan, anyway? Why –?

Then he kissed her. Haruhi had never been kissed before, and this was nothing like she had imagined her first kiss but –it was also so much better…

His dry, soft lips gently pressed her own. She could feel the pressure of his lean form against her, one of his hands holding the one of hers that was hanging limply off the edge of the couch. His other hand caressed her neck, moved to her cheek, one finger tracing her cheekbone and moving into her hair.

His kisses became harder, more passionate than sweet. Haruhi found herself responding, moving her lips along with his. His glasses pressed against her cheek. She found that she wasn't thinking anymore. She was just doing. She felt his tongue in her mouth, making contact with her own. She felt like it should be gross. It wasn't.

The hand in her hair moved downwards, caressing her subtle curves. He settled his hand in the curve of her hip, but after a moment began to move it upward –beneath her undershirt and jacket. His touch raised goose bumps –his hands were so cold. The hand holding hers moved to remove his glasses. With a swift movement he placed them on the carpet. Now both hands explored under her shirt, nearing her bra –

"Kyouya…" She breathed. She could let him kiss her, passion and all… But that… She couldn't let him do that… Could she?

Then his kisses slowed. He moved his lips from her mouth to her flushed cheeks and then to her small, ski-jump nose. He removed his hands from under her shirt. He sat up, and then stood uncertainly, leaning down and picking up his glasses in the process. He had to probe around the carpet for a few moments before finding them. He put them on, blinking twice.

Haruhi lay still on the couch, staring at him.

Where in the world did all that come from? And more importantly, why did I let him do it?

***

Kyouya stared at Haruhi's prone figure on the couch.

Where did that come from? Why did she let me do it?

Kyouya put a finger to his lips. They were burning, burning with the memory of Haruhi's touch…

No. No, no, no. He couldn't do this. Anyone could see that Tamaki and Haruhi belonged together, the silly with the sensible, the obnoxious with the calm. Kyouya didn't fit in the picture anywhere. Not at all. What had come over him?

It had been a combination of her sweet gesture (waking him up) and her adorable expression as she asked him about his dream that had been so similar to what had just transpired… Though there'd been a little more grass and flowers and a little less clothing involved…

And now what would he do?

Haruhi stood now, as well. She watched him warily, waiting for an explanation most likely.

Kyouya just shook his head. He retrieved his clipboard from the floor, recalling bitterly the unconscious words he had written earlier –that now resided in his jacket pocket. They were a sharp reminder of just how stupid he was being. That was all he was allowed –writing silly notes to himself about her cuteness. He wasn't allowed anything more, and especially not what had just happened.

Their eyes met for the last time that evening, an understanding passing between the two.

It was their first kiss, and it was their last kiss. They would never speak of what had happened again. They would treasure the memory, holding it dear until their deaths, a shadow set in the past, a reminder their whole lives of what could have been.

A perfect future now lost in their imperfect natures.

{I know, sad, right? Wah... I've always been a Kyouya fan, and I do like this pairing... :'( More importantly, what do you think? Please review, I'd like to know how I did. Oh and btw, I wrote this at 1in the morning O.o 3 }