Claraowl: I now have the somewhat dubious honor of presenting a moriharu drabble, for thy enjoyment. I own nothing except the drabble-plot. :)
Mori often made quiet comments or jokes that no one else ever heard; he was used to it. That he had accepted as his lot in life… or at least he had, until someone came along who not only heard him, but also understood his supposed silence. That someone was Haruhi.
It had started one uneventful afternoon, about halfway through his third year. The day had been dreadfully ordinary – a rather unpromising sort of day. On days like this, he usually retreated down his Corridor of Dreams; unfortunately – or, as he would think later, fortunately – the door to the Corridor had been locked from his mind. He had sighed soundlessly; he would just have to deal with the insanities of the host club more personally that usual. He offered a slight smile to his guests, causing them to swoon neatly on the spot. He half-listened to their chatter as he poured them tea.
He was, in other words, mildly bored out of his mind.
Only mildly, mind you. He much preferred being with other humans than being by himself. And so, he served tea to his swooning guests and swallowed the insanity.
It had been after club when his comments had first been noticed – to his knowledge, at least. The twins had been causing chaos and had drawn Tamaki into it, as usual; also as usual, he had made a quiet, wry comment. Most unusually, however, his comment had been heard – and appreciated. Haruhi had stifled a small laugh and caught his eye, grinning. He had offered a small, slightly confused smile in return as he doubted if she had actually heard him. He had shrugged it off, deciding to chalk it up as a mere coincidence.
And then it had happened again, much in the same way as the first time. This time, he had begun to wonder if she had heard him; again, he shook it off, not daring to believe the possibility. His lot was to watch, to listen, to intervene in times of danger… and to never, ever, ever be heard.
The third time was a charm, as the poets say; this time, she said something in reply. It had only been a sentence fragment – "Or lack thereof," – and that had been when he had fallen in love with her.
And she? She had long since fallen for his quiet, wry wit; his steadfast, unceasing loyalty; and his kind, gentle heart. It took her, of course, some time to realize what had happened – that was merely her nature. He had waited for her, and taken her when she was prepared. Their lot was no longer one of the broken heart.
Many wondered how and why their relationship came to be, as the two of them almost never appeared to converse. They merely shared a smile when this question was posed, delighting in their secret.
It just goes to show what love can do if you're willing to listen… or so she reflected, through all the years of their love. She bit her lip nervously, excitedly, as they took their first steps as a married couple, their future splayed before them. Holding their first child in her arms, she beamed up at him as he stood next to her proudly, his face etched with relief. She reached up, running her hand along his jaw on the day that marked their seventy-fourth – and last – year together, before their mercifully short separation by death. They joined once more, one finding the other in the beyond-plain, where she had awaited his arrival.
It just goes to show what love can do if you're willing to listen: everything.
Claraowl: And that, my dear reader(s), is the end. I hope that you enjoyed reading this; please drop your thoughts in the review box! :D