his is just a small one-shot that's been sitting in my computer collecting dust for months. Not a favorite one-shot of mine, but I thought I might as well post it. Oh, if you don't know who I'm talking about at the end, type in the name, a plus sign, and Ouran in google. The first result should tell you who the character is..

Disclaimer: Don't own Ouran.

A Different Kind of Love
Rating: K
Genre: General/Romance
Pairings: Implied Haruhi/Tamaki
Summary: A unique one-shot with a slight twist at the end.
Words: 632
Last Edited: November 30th, 2007. Fixed some wording that sounded awkward.

Different Kind of Love

She knew from the very first day she met him that she loved him.

Now, she wasn't the type of ill-bred mongrel that chased after every male that came across her path, but Tamaki Suoh was different.

She didn't know what it was exactly that made him so different. Perhaps it was because he had kind eyes and a warm smile, or maybe it was because of his sporadic outbursts as he reacted to whatever thought was currently occupying his mind.

She didn't know what is was, really, and quite frankly, she didn't care. All she knew was that she loved him. That idea was simple enough.

Tamaki would often escort her on her daily walk through the gardens, or to the nearest park not far from the Suoh estate. Neither she nor Tamaki ever grew bored of it. Sometimes they would both stay there, just walking without saying anything until the sky turned to a near rainbow haze and the world seemed to be suddenly limited to just the two of them. They never needed words to be able to communicate and never would.

During other times, he would take her into Mansion #2's backyard, and they would play that hide-and-seek game that he was ever-so fond of. She found him every time, but he could never find her.

When he'd come home, she'd be waiting for him patiently at the door, watching his approach through the window with excited blue eyes. She would often bowl him over in her enthusiasm when he finally stepped through the door, often cutting him off his usual declarations about how splendid the day in question had been--on how bright and absolutely joyous the sun was or, if it was rainy, about just how exquisitely the rain had fallen down upon the cement.

Not once did she ever recall him complaining.

Perhaps that was just another reason why she loved him.

He loved her, too, she knew he did.

…But though he loved her, he didn't love her like he did that girl – that Haruhi girl that he'd talk until sunrise about. He'd ramble on what she had done that particular day (she tended to always be perfect, a natural); how she had spoken to him (not like every word from her wasn't music to his ears anyway); and how he hoped she wasn't eating that kind of fish again (The horror of it!).

If the sky was angry, full of flashing jolts of yellow light and angry roars, he'd nearly work himself into a fit of hysterics, wondering if his Haruhi was safe and sound. During his moments of uncontrollable panic, he would call that black-haired boy, Kyouya (who seemed to know everything that went on whether it was his business or not) and ascertain the fact that Haruhi was undoubtedly all right, hang up, pause for a few moments, then call again.

Deep within her heart she wished he would be her Tamaki and hers alone, but she knew that it would never be. Even if that girl never loved him back and found someone else to share her life with, he would still be loyally behind her, watching her back as she followed her own life's path. Why? Because he loved her – even if he didn't quite realize it himself yet.

He would, given time.

So, knowing that her battle for his heart was already a long-lost one, she did the only thing she could do for him: let him and that girl be.

It drove her mad sometimes, seeing her Tamaki and that girl together. The only thing that kept her from being overwhelmed by that odd twisting feeling that was called jealousy was the knowledge that Tamaki still had a smile that he saved especially for her -- a special one that was hers, and hers alone, and he would never share it with anyone else.

And knowing that, Antoinette was content.