AN: Poppy and I both... Love. Ouran. A lot.
This is about Tamaki and Eclair. This is a scene about how I think they'd be married. I doubt it would be very fair. Please R&R.
XX Vi
Disclaimer: I unfortunately don't own Ouran, and I don't own Tama-chan for Poppy :(
Summary: A few lost memories, a few hearts broken and all over a cup of coffee
A Cup Of Coffee
The violet eyes of the slender boy were gazing into the depths of his coffee mug. The girl beside him shifted bitterly letting her eyelids fall over her own vividly-colored eyes. She clasped the crimson painted porcelain in her delicate hands taking an eagerly awaited sip of its contents.
"How was your day?" His beautiful voice still contained traces of its old optimism, but most of it was buried within himself.
"Fine" She uttered icily, "Did you take care of the errands I left for you to do?"
He nodded, strands of his blonde hair falling into a barricade of his emotion.
"By hand?" She asked.
"Yes." He mumbled, "The way you like it."
"Good" She said with a glossy-lipped smile, "I'd expect that much of you."
He tilted his head to the left, "I know."
"Your nineteenth birthday is drawing nearer, who do you wish to celebrate it with?"
"You."
"Oh please." She murmured, "I have realized that.. Who else? Any of your old friends?"
His glum eyes brightened momentarily, "Are you being honest?"
"Yes.. But not anyone from that pathetic pretend family you used to participate in."
His face fell, "I understand."
"Of course you do.. Guess it will be just us then." She replied snobbishly.
"Guess so." He was grasping his notebook so tightly his fingers were paling.
She held out a manicured hand, "Give it to me." She ordered.
He passed her the black book unhesitatingly but she felt worry flicker in his actions. She opened its cover and poured over its pages of notes, all in his scrawled handwriting.
"You take notes on what I tell you? Impressive.." She said absently turning the next page.
"I wouldn't want to forget something and..."
"And upset me?" She scoffed, "Clever."
He pressed his lips together silently. She tensed when she reached the next page. It was covered completely in photographs. She frowned and began to tear them off the paper. They were all pictures- group ones and portraits of teenagers pulling faces.
The Host Club.
"What is this?" She said with a calm but cold voice.
"Photos." He whispered.
She plucked the tape off the pictures with her long fingernails, "It's time to move on."
He shivered.
"They don't care anymore. They let you go." She knew she was being harsh, as she casually rose to her feet and began to flick the photos into the fireplace, one by one.
She watched satisfied as the pictures burned to ash.. The boy stayed stiff at the table.
"Move on." She repeated spinning on her heel and taking back her seat by him.
"I-" He stuttered and she raised an eyebrow waiting,
"I don't want to."