Author's Note: Here is the latest and final chapter. I'm rather fond of it, if I do say so myself, particularly the second half. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I apologize if you think it's over too soon, but I was only planning on another chapter or two when I took my unexpected hiatus, so this is how I wanted it to go regardless of, you know, life.

In case anyone out there has forgotten (because I know I have-or at least I've tried to), I do not own OHSHC.

Now, please read, review, and enjoy!

Haruhi and an Ootori

Chapter 15

Still Saturday . . .

I have spent the past six years trying to get Haruhi to realize that when I ask her to different social events and out for dinner that it is a date, not two friends hanging out.

Haruhi has known me nine years, and she still hasn't realized I (am in love with) care for her.

Haruhi knew Akito for nine minutes before she deemed him kissable.

Akito kissed Haruhi.

Haruhi kissed Aktio.

I have not kissed Haruhi.

Tucked into the notebook marking the page was a photo of the two of them. Kyoya had his arm wrapped around Haruhi's shoulders, and Haruhi was looking proudly up at him while he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She remembered when that photo had been taken. It had been when Kyoya and Tamaki had graduated from Todai. Tamaki had snapped the photo using Haruhi's camera, but Haruhi had never gotten the print of it when she developed the photos.

"I guess now I know what happened to it," Haruhi said out loud, staring at the photo. "And I guess, he does love me."

"Yes, he does."

Haruhi's head snapped to the person standing in the doorway. She hadn't even heard them come in. "Mori, hello. W-what are you doing here?" she asked, surprised.

"You haven't been answering your phone. We've been worried," Mori said, referring to the hosts. "I came to check on you. And then I saw Akito-san leaving."

Looking up at him, one of her closest friends, Haruhi couldn't help it. She hurled herself at Mori, wrapping her arms around his middle and started crying.

Not the loud, sobbing kind of crying like she did when she was alone or scared during a thunderstorm, but the soft kind where she just held on tight and let the tears fall. Mori didn't seem to mind. He picked her up and let her bury her face in his shirt while he carried her back over to the sofa. After a while, she had settled down.

"Mori," Haruhi said softly, her voice coming out all wobbly from crying. "Did I mess everything up? Is . . . is it too late to try to . . . I don't know, start something with Kyoya? I mean, I yelled at him. I threw him out of my apartment. Twice. But I-I love him, and he—I think he loves me, too."

Mori rubbed soothing circles on her back. "He does love you. For the two of you, it's never going to be too late because you both love each other. You've waited eight years, I think it's time for the two of you to realize you care about each other, that you want to be together."

Haruhi leaned forward and handed Mori the black book and the photo. Mori raised his eyebrows, his silent way of asking, Are you crazy? Kyoya's black book?

"The photo was marking the page, and . . . and Kyoya has this list of things that annoy him. It includes—it says that—he wrote that he loves me, and the he didn't want me to be with Akito-san because he loves me. Mori, I don't know what to do now," she finished, looking up at him, her eyes bright and wide, wanting an answer from him, from someone.

Mori put his hand on top of her head, running his fingers through her hair. Haruhi leaned back against his chest, closing her eyes and enjoying the comforting feeling of Mori's fingers in her hair. Still, she couldn't help but wish that someone else, someone with glasses, grey eyes, and black hair, that is, was running his fingers through her hair.

Then, there was a knock on the door. Haruhi, shook her head at Mori, indicating that she didn't want any more company. However, the person on the other side of the door didn't seem to agree with Haruhi's decision.

"Please, Haruhi, open the door," came Kyoya's voice from outside. "I know you're mad at me, but I need to talk to you." When he got no answer, "Haruhi, if I have to, I will use my spare key."

Mori carefully lifted Haruhi off of himself and walked over to the door. He opened it and slid out, blocking Haruhi from view, leaving Haruhi staring after him, only just catching a glimpse of a very out-of-sorts Kyoya.

"Mori, please, I have to talk to her," Kyoya said, trying to keep his calm, but a hint of desperation had still leaked into his voice.

"You will, but first, you should know something. She and Akito-san broke up. He was here earlier today," Mori informed Kyoya, watching as he stiffened at the mention of Akito.

"Is she alright?" Kyoya asked carefully.

Mori shook his head. "She's heartbroken," he said simply.

Kyoya looked a little startled at this. "I know she likes him, but—"

"Not because of him. Because of you. Kyoya, what did you do?"

Kyoya closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I just need to talk to her," he managed to force out, each word coming out stiff and separate from the one before it.

"Then talk to her. But Kyoya, if you hurt her again, you're out of chances," Mori warned.

"I know. But I think I can make this right. I know I can get her to believe me," Kyoya said, pulling out one of his black books. "I have it planned out, you see."

Kyoya couldn't help but stare at her. They must have just stood where they were, Haruhi next to the couch and Kyoya in the kitchen, eyes locked for a good five minutes, neither of them talking. Finally, one of them, or more aptly put both of them, broke the silence.

"I'm sorry—" they both said simultaneously. "I—you go first."

Haruhi let out a nervous chuckle. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, and blaming you for, well, what happened between me and Aktio-san. And for kicking you out of my apartment. But mostly," her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm sorry for not believing you when you said you loved me."

Kyoya's eyes widened behind his glasses, and for once, Haruhi could see his eyes. She could see the hope behind them, and something else . . .

"I read your black book," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "You—you left it here," she stammered. "And the photo of us from graduation was sticking out from a page. A photo I never saw, by the way."

Kyoya walked forward and, before Haruhi could do anything, he hugged her. "I don't think I've ever been happier about an invasion of my privacy," he whispered in her ear. Hastily, he stepped back. "I brought my black books from my university years to show you. I had hoped they would convince you. I couldn't find my current one, but I guess now I know what happened to it," he told her, handing her the black books. "I had hoped you would read them, and that they would convince you that I—that I—well, I'm relieved you read the one book."

It was Haruhi's chance to step forward and hug Kyoya then. "I love you, Kyoya. And in case you were confused, I'm not letting you go anytime soon. Because I love you, and I know you love me. You wouldn't lie to me about that, and I should have known," she said, nuzzling her nose against his chest, inhaling his scent.

Does she have any idea what she does to me?

Kyoya wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, burying his face in her hair. All he could do was whisper, "I love you, I love you," over and over, blocking out thoughts of how he had almost lost her, almost ruined everything he had with her.

Except he hadn't. In the end, Kyoya Ootori was the Ootori that Haruhi wound up with.

And he had no intention of letting her go anytime soon either.

A few months later . . .

"You know, if you don't get up soon, you aren't going to make it to your own wedding," Haruhi murmured softly against her fiancé's ear as she slid down, nipping at his neck.

He sighed, pulling her lips up to meet his own. "Somehow, I would be perfectly okay with that, if it meant staying right here with you." He lifted her up and pulled her on top of him, holding her flush against his body as he began trailing kisses down from her temple, to her jaw line, and then to her lips, pulling her lower lip between his, whispering her name as they kissed.

He noticed that Haruhi's breathing was picking up, and he rolled them over so that he was hovering over her, trailing his lips like wildfire down her neck, biting at the sensitive skin along her collarbone, letting his tongue wash over the soft spot at the edge of her shoulder, and gently dipping his head down to kiss along the trail that lead to her breasts.

"K-kyoya," she panted, tilting her head back in pleasure, gripping the pillow behind her head. "Oh!"

Kyoya had lifted up her shirt, and was now spreading lingering kisses along her abdomen, getting slowly closer to—

"HEY! What are you two still doing in bed?! We've got a wedding to get to!"

"HIKARU!" Haruhi shouted, pulling the sheet up to cover herself. "Get OUT!"

Hikaru took in Haruhi's disheveled appearance and Kyoya's smirk. "Oooh, I see what's going on here," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at them suggestively.

Just then, Kaoru walked in. One look at the pair and he rolled his eyes. "Save it for the honeymoon. Come on Haruhi," he said, walking across the room and yanking her out of the bed. "We've got to get you ready. Don't worry, Kyoya, we'll see you at the altar."

"Hey! I'm not even dressed!" Haruhi protested.

"Please," Hikaru scoffed.

"We've seen you in less," Kaoru added.

"Excuse me?" Kyoya called out from the bed. All his future wife was wearing was one of his college shirts.

The twins both gave him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry?" Kaoru offered.

"Run?" Hikaru suggested.

Without another word, both the twins scampered out of the bedroom, dragging Haruhi with them.

"Well, if that's the case, I'm going to go back to sleep," Kyoya muttered before turning over.

"KYOYA!"

Please, not that idiot. It is too early to have Haruhi missing from my bed and to have to deal with him.

Later that same day . . .

Haruhi was grumbling to herself, tired of being poked and prodded by the Hitachiins. Hikaru and Kaoru had brought their mother into the whole debacle, trying to make sure everything was perfect. Haruhi's expectations were nowhere near anyone else's. If it had been up to her, she and Kyoya would have been married months ago, standing in front of a city hall official with just the hosts and Ranka with them.

But it had not been up to her. It had been up to Yoshio, the twins, Tamaki, and Honey to plan her wedding. Yoshio had been in charge of the guest list and media coverage, the twins in charge of apparel and décor, Tamaki had been in charge of entertainment and getting Kyoya to the altar (wonder how that's going), and Honey in charge of food. Haruhi had had exactly zero amount of say in what her wedding was going to be like.

And she didn't give a damn.

The only thing that mattered was that she had chosen the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle. She had picked an Ootori, so she knew she'd made a good choice. And she had chosen her Ootori, so, naturally, she had chosen the best Ootori.

That Ootori had also chosen her.

"Tamaki, for the love of it all, calm down."

"But you're getting married! How are you not more excited?!" Tamaki shouted, spinning around while throwing his arms out, nearly knocking over a vase.

"I am appropriately excited. I am not, however, ten years old."

"Kyoya!" Tamaki whined. "You and Haruhi are finally getting married. Aren't you happy?" The last part, Kyoya noted, was a serious question.

"Yes, Tamaki, I am very happy. I merely have other ways of expressing my happiness than twirling around like a girl."

"That's it? Just happy?"

"Tamaki, what do you want from me?" Kyoya bit back angrily.

"I want to know Haruhi isn't making a mistake," Tamaki answered truthfully.

Kyoya stared at his best friend in disbelief. "You're bringing this up now? I would think that you of all people would know me better than to question my motives. Especially when it comes to Haruhi." He couldn't keep the cold glint out of his eyes as he turned to face the mirror, straightening his bow tie.

Tamaki puffed out his breath, letting his bangs flop over his forehead. "I know you love her. I guess I'm just nervous."

"What do you have to be nervous about?" Kyoya asked while running a comb through his hair.

"My best friends are getting married in front of Japan's most elite members and the press. What do I have to be calm about?" he countered. "And you're nervous, too. You just redid your hair. Since when does the great Kyoya Ootori fidget?"

"I don't," Kyoya snapped back automatically. Then he realized that he had redone his part for the fourth time that day. "Okay, so I'm a little nervous."

Tamaki smiled at Kyoya. "Nervous is good. Nervous means you're ready to marry Haruhi."

"And how do you figure that?"

"It means she's finally knocked you down to size," he said with a hint of humor in his voice. Then, more seriously, "It means you've finally found someone you worry about. You've found someone you love."

Haruhi was having trouble breathing, and it had nothing to do with the corset the twins had fitted her with.

Her gold kimono was, of course, a modernized version and a Hitachiin original. It was an all gold over-layer with a red obi and scarlet and light gold cranes embroidered along the skirt with a corset-style top and narrow sleeves decked with lace to match her veil. It was the most bizarre compilation of modern Western and traditional Japanese wedding gowns. But Haruhi looked beautiful in it, or so she'd been told by the twins before they had marched down the aisle in unison, standing in as bridesmaids.

But Haruhi was terrified. Not because she was getting married, but rather because Kaoru had decided to fit her feet with six inch gold stilettos strapped to her ankle by a red ribbon that she could barely stand in, never mind walk fifty meters down an aisle in front of cameras and Japan's upper echelon.

Thus, Haruhi stood outside the wooden doors, unable to bring herself to follow Hikaru and Kaoru. She knew that through the doors of the most ornate building she had ever set foot in, Ouran included, stood her soon-to-be husband who she wanted nothing more than to run towards, but the shoes—

Wait a second. Why didn't I think of it before?

She was walking so gracefully towards him, and she looked so beautiful. Her hair was carefully coiffed, rolling down along her shoulders and tumbling down past the gold lace veil. The gold lace and silk corset and sleeves fitted her perfectly, emphasizing her delicate curves and slender figure. The belled skirt of the kimono was emphasized by the red obi, and it swished wonderfully around her—

"Haruhi, why aren't you wearing shoes?" Kyoya whispered to her when she arrived at the end of the aisle.

Haruhi shrugged noncommittally. "I couldn't walk in them."

Kyoya smiled and had to remind himself that they hadn't reached the part in the ceremony where he could kiss her yet.

But they did soon enough.

And when they did . . .

Kyoya pulled Haruhi towards himself and brought his lips tantalizingly close to hers. "You," he breathed against her mouth. "Are mine."

Haruhi just grinned back up at her husband before grabbing the lapels of his jacket and unceremoniously smashing her mouth against his.

"I love you, too," she said, unheard over the cheers from their friends. "I love you, too, Kyoya Ootori."

Author's Note: Well, I hope you guys liked it! I'll have The Broken Hearts Club updated on/by Monday, Tuesday at the latest-depends on packing and driving home and the flow of ideas. This has been fun to write, and it was an interesting first fanfic. I'm sad to see it end, but I like the way I ended it. Walking down the aisle sans shoes? Very Haruhi, I think. Please, review and let me know what you think.

Also, I do plan to write another, short Ouran fic this summer. Any suggestions for who Haruhi should be partnered with? I've already received a request for Hikaru. All I've got now is a MorixHaruhixKyoya love triangle and a vague any-host plot, so let me know.