Disclaimer: Yeah... still don't own it. Sorry.
A/N: Heh. Yes, yet another Kyouya/Haruhi related drabble. I promise my next one will be something different. I just had this scene in my head after watching the series finale of Buffy, which is where the dialogue stems from. I actually hadn't planned on putting 'Fistful of Sand' at the beginning, but as I was writing this, that song came on my iPod. And whaddya know - it fit! (By the way, I highly suggest that you go out and buy the new The Bravery album. 'Tis very good.) Oh, and sorry it's so painfully short! I just couldn't stand to make it anything longer. It seemed complete to me.

Every morning I wake up and you are home
But in your eyes I see that I'm alone
You've left me with your body in my arms
But I can't feel you anymore - You are gone

- 'Fistful of Sand' by the Bravery

"I love you."

There was no hesitation. His voice did not tremble, did not break. He said it the same way he says everything – confidently and clearly. He had no reason to say it any differently, because he never speaks without thinking it through first. He had calculated every appropriate response, every reaction. And you expected nothing less.
Against your will, you smiled. It was a small smile, caught only by those observant enough to find it. He just so happened to be one of those observant few.

Tentatively, you began to lightly trace his collarbone with your fingertips, once again surprised at how soft his skin was. You always imagined him as being cold and rigid; the flawless ice sculpture he made himself out to be. Of course, despite the fact that he was, indeed, human, he was still made of ice. You had thought that, maybe… just maybe… he would have changed. Would have 'opened up' somehow, shown his true colors. You – foolishly, blindly, childishly – thought that the ice would melt the closer you got to him.

But it never did.

Regardless, you held on. You found yourself being drawn in by the challenge. You found yourself falling further and further for this frigid, faceless shadow, with his debonair good-looks and aristocratic smile. You didn't want to. You never, not in a million years, thought you would. Yet, somehow along the way, you did.

You fell in love.

All this time, you had been waiting for a transformation that never came. A transformation that would never happen, no matter how many times he uttered the same three words. Against your will, you realized this. A part of you wanted to continue this charade, to continue being both happy and sad (alive and dead) at the same time. But you knew you couldn't.

So you dared to tilt your head up in order to look at his face once more, moving your fingers so they ran across his jaw line. Those impenetrable eyes of his – unguarded without his glasses – closed briefly. Leaning forward, you pressed your mouth to his own in a kiss that was barely there, and then whispered something against his lips that even he did not foretell.

"No you don't. But thanks for saying it."