LOVE AND MARRAIGE

First, I met Kyouya.

He was, is, will always be, like a spouse to me. Do not misunderstand, though. We do not bathe together, sleep together, and when we occasionally do east in each other's company, he does not cook and I do not wash the dishes. We do not brush our teeth in the same sink, nor share the ideal most moments of our day while minty froth dribbles down our chins. He does not wear flimsy lingerie for me, and I do not sexually satisfy him. We are not spouses.

Next, I met Haninozuka.

He was, always will be, and is my friend, like a neighbor who is more like a live in than someone who has his own house. He is a great person, with his own style and personality, one that is entirely HIM and entirely not someone ELSE. I admire him for that, and I feel he knows it. He must feel it, when our tea parties in the club room are easily translated into the commoner tradition: the BBQ. He must, I feel, for I do. We are not neighbors.

Then, I met Morinozuka.

He always will be, was and is my old classmate, the friend I can go ages without ever seeing and still find something to talk about, only our conversations consists of nothing. Our tea parties are more of casual and quiet enjoyment of each other's company, much like the weekly drink between two friends is. Our chatter exists only in our heads, and our conversation stays on topic, unchanging and not depending on either or both sides to keep it going. But Mori and I are in different years, never to be classmates.

I saw Hikaru first.

He is, was, and always will be a child in my eyes. Forced to grow up, never coddles and a cool shell of a human being who eventually warmed up to skin temperature. I tried to lighten that shadowed look in his eyes, break whatever barrier was restraining him. Made up for the coddling, spoiled him a little, I think. He didn't seem to like it, but I saw him smiling. It was like a lollipop stolen from a child, and I was giving it back. But, even I know that Hikaru is not a child, not a baby.

I saw Kaoru second.

He was, always will be, and is, like a son to me. Not to say Hikaru wasn't, but Kaoru was more, perhaps because I saw a little of myself in him. Even alone, deprived of a proper childhood, his eyes did not take on the shadowed haze his twin's did. He didn't deny his emotions, recognizing love, hatred, anger, sadness, need...I could name my own son Kaoru, when I have one, but this one is one of a kind, a man in a child's body and an adult inside of a child's mind. But Kaoru's not my blood.

And then, I saw her.

Or...Him. Haruhi, the girl, the commoner, the boy, the scholarship student. I think my spouse spoke correctly when he professed the beginning of love. I think my neighbor watched, over his fence, knowing and trimming the bushes of his thoughts so they didn't throttle my own roses. I think my school friend, the one ever silent in the back of the class, kept his hand lowered and mouth shut even if he knew the answer. My coddled child did not cry as his new lollipop was stolen, and he grew up—if only for a little—the day he didn't sob or throw a temper tantrum or scream "unfair!" And my son easily accepted my daughter—his new sister—our family member into our close-knit group of friends.

And her...?

I think my daughter—my Haruhi, my commoner, my girl, our child—is just as unaware of her personal thoughts on the matter as I am mine. I am at a lose, but I hope, with her help, I will find whatever I have lost without losing what I already have.

-fin-