The Ouran gardens were quiet in the early evening, the setting sun casting golden hues over the trimmed hedges and still fountains. You sat on a stone bench beneath a cherry blossom tree, the petals drifting gently around you like pink snow.

A familiar voice broke the silence.

“There you are, my beloved,” Tamaki said with a smile that could melt the moon.

You looked up to see him holding two cups of tea on a silver tray—he had insisted on practicing his hosting even outside of club hours, though with you, it always felt more sincere.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you said, but smiled anyway.

He set the tray down and handed you a delicate porcelain cup. “Nonsense. The one I adore deserves only the finest tea and the most charming company. And since Kyoya won’t let me host myself, you’ll have to suffer in his place.”

You laughed, and Tamaki’s eyes softened at the sound.

For a moment, there was no extravagance, no dramatic speeches—just quiet warmth. He reached out, brushing a stray blossom from your hair, his fingers lingering just a second longer than needed.

“I still can’t believe you’re mine,” he said softly.

You leaned against his shoulder, your tea forgotten. “You say that like I didn’t choose you.”

He stilled, then wrapped an arm gently around you. “You did. And that’s the miracle I’ll never stop being grateful for.”

The two of you sat together as the sky turned from orange to deep violet, surrounded by silence, laughter, and petals—and for once, Tamaki Suoh didn’t need grand declarations.

He just needed you.