A/n: Boredom is beautiful.

Mistletoe in July
One-shot Kouzumi

The sun—a hot luminous orb of energy of which constitutes day and, at its absence, night; the central body which the earth and planets revolve, by which they are held in their orbits, and from which they receive light and heat.

Feh. To hell with the sun.

Because all it succeeded in doing was boiling the very surface of Izumi's sanity. And maybe her already red skin, of which had already gone through so much abuse from her previous sunburn when she went to the beach last week (without sunscreen).

Ah, her poor, poor, skin.

With a scowl marring her features, she blew into the air, trying to get an escaped strand of blond hair out of her face. And when the task was proven unsuccessful, the box, labeled "Christmas" with black permanent marker, jingled from within her hold when she carelessly balanced it on her knee before manually shoving her golden locks into a very loose ponytail.

Satisfaction never tasted better.

Her feet, sore from walking in a pair of high healed slippers she hated so much (and wore only because she couldn't find anything else in her closet in such short notice and partially because it was the only thing that looked remotely nice with her Hawaiian printed skirt), pattered against the marble ground that had been delicately crafted with royal colors. The embroidery of the marble was simply astounding, as was the building in front of her that she was making forward to. At fourteen stories, the entrance stood on beautifully carved pillars and cascaded upwards to a joint with the rest of the structure that she could hardly begin to describe.

Yet alone pay to live in, because damn, it looked expensive.

Biting her bottom lip scornfully at her forgetfulness, she hesitantly turned around, facing a slick black car that had hand-painted silver wolves swiftly decorated on each side (done as a gift from Tomoki, who must have had one hell of a growths birth, because he had grown to a stand just mere inches under her). Giving the dry insides of her mouth a quick lick, Izumi glanced at the figure who at the moment was too engrossed at getting a box out of his trunk to notice her standing there.

"Kouji," she cleared her throat.

The young man emerged from behind his bunker and had she been a normal girl (and not his since grade school best friend) she would have long before turned into a pile of mush. Because his features were godly, to minimally put it.

Lean and tall, his face was sharp and skin was pale. Long locks of a midnight blue were pulled back into a low pony that ran down his back, a few strands wavering in the air bashfully. He was dressed solitarily in a white collared shirt and black pants, but it brought out the true intensity of his emotionless onyx eyes (that softened only for her).

"Second floor, third door to the right." came his cool and unsteady reply, a small lopsided grin arched from hilarity. With a mild shrug of her shoulders, Izumi waved at him sheepishly before entering through the doors.

Ah, he knew her too well.

Izumi wasn't the clumsy type of girl. On the contrary, from years of gymnastics and volleyball, she was quite the female athlete. Her body was well-toned and relatively in good shape. Although her apartment was often considered a "What the fuck happened here!" and that maybe she couldn't cook anything but those instant noodle cups if her life depended on it, she was smart, well-respected, and definitely not one with two left feet.

But there were times where she would tune out absolutely everything around her just to mingle on her own thoughts. And those usually five minutes (or hours—even days in some cases) got her in trouble, whether it be accidentally signing up for Junpei's magic show at a birthday party as his assistant, or bumping into her boss and spilling coffee over his five hundred dollar suit before a council meeting.

Though Kouji didn't mind any of this. In fact, from the look of his rare smiles that he'd upturn whenever she told him stories of her misfortune at their weekly meetings (which were usually held in random coffee shops and/or restaurants), he rather found it amusing. So it was all worth it.

Because he had a beautiful smile—one that slowly stretched across his face, mingled in his eyes, and showcased those utmost adorable dimples that he so shamefully denied in ever existing—


Without a second to realize what happened, Izumi found herself sprawled on her stomach, atop the crimson velvet carpet of Kouji's apartment floor along with various Christmas ornaments that slowly ceased in their natural tingles and chimes, the brown cardboard box overturned a few inches away.

Pulling herself up, she brought her ankle over for examination and found that her heel had undoubtedly and obviously broken off. Where the piece that had caused her to loose her balance was, she didn't know (and didn't care the very least either because those shoes were going to harbor fate worse then the dump after she was done with them).

Too busy was she in trying to get all the decoration pieces into the box that she failed to notice the chuckling illuminating from the doorway until a good one or two minutes.

"Stop your laughing and help me clean this mess up," she snapped, knowing the instant she heard the floor boards creak, that it was Kouji, who, like true in her accusation, was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

"Assist in cleaning up the mess that, may I add, you made from my grandmother's favorite collection of Christmas ornaments?" he remarked back slyly, bending to a sit in front of her, whose sharp, inquisitive expression nearly dominated the pitiful excuse of a glare from Izumi in comparison.

The words hit her like a punch to the stomach. Guilt showered her face, and her hands worked like firecrackers bouncing one place to another, frantically picking up the fallen goods, as her mouth opened and closed.

"I'm so sorry! My stupid heel—"

"Izumi . . . "

"—and then I lost my balance—"


"—I hope none of them are broken because I'll pay—"

She shut up the instant his hand made contact with hers, ceasing them in trying to pick up a white dove. Sure it hadn't been the first time she ever touched his pianist smooth hands, but for some damn crazy reason her blood froze for a millisecond before pulsing like a joyride on the edge of a cliff (not that she had ever done that before, mind you). And when his thumb grazed her palm affectionately, her mind exploded all together.

"Izumi," he murmured her name, she suddenly realizing how close they were, "look at me."

Stiff like a stump attached to the ground with multiple roots, she obeyed silently, slowly trailing her eyes upwards to a powerful lock with his. It took every authority in her muscles from not cowering back. Because when Kouji was serious, it damn as well showed. A small smile curled at the edge of his pale rose lips, hands releasing hers (to her relief and dismay). "It's okay."

"But—" she worriedly started again, the anxious tone returning to her voice. But a finger on her mouth silenced her before she even got the chance to start.

"I was kidding. No, they aren't my grandmothers. Yes, I lied."

A wave of relief washed her whole system and she sighed, utterly relieved, before pouting angrily at him. "You're so evil," she sniffed, punching his shoulder half-heartedly.

His grin was coy. "I learn from the best."

Izumi's bell like laughter filled atmosphere, mostly because she was glad that the discomfort she felt just a few minutes ago (for whatever reason it was there to begin with) was gone, thoroughly reduced to a plumb size strawberry giggling in her stomach.

And life would have continued uneventful if she hadn't realized something was apparently tangled with her hair. Running a lazy hand through them, her fingers brushed against something small and leaf-like. With an aggravated growl she pulled it out, holding it up in the light, squinting to find out what it was.

"Mistletoe." Kouji normally stated, but the surprise was evident in his voice.

It was very silent for a couple of minutes. She stared dumbly at the object that had suddenly made things very awkward again. Because it was July, and mistletoe rules did not apply until the winter holidays. But . . .

"Screw July," he whispered suddenly, his hand reaching out and tracing the outline of her jaw before gripping the back of her neck at the point where her skull (which swirled with confused emotion) met her backbone. Her breath caught in her throat and refused to budge when she realized the waning space between them.

"I'm going to kiss you anyway," was the last thing she heard before his lips met in a clash with hers in a lock of passion.

Which, Izumi had to down right admit, was the most pleasurable thing she had ever felt in all her life.

His lips were like cool silk pressing firmly against hers. They were gentle and questioning; he wanted to know if his motives were alright with her and whether it was acceptable of him to proceed attacking her mouth.

And she (once she regained her senses and all nagging thoughts were lost in oblivion) replied promptly by shyly kissing him back. It had been all the encouragement he needed because then his hands were traveling down her arms, and she was being hoisted closer. Her own fingers were pressed against his chest, clutching his shirt with anticipation.

It was suddenly getting really, really hot. And . . . well, let's just say the mistletoe, as well as all the other Christmas ornaments, were left forgotten on the floor for the remainder of the day.

The End?

A/n: The actual ending that I had written was limier. But since I realized that many people may get queasy with it, I decided against the idea. That is:grins wildly: unless any of you object! In that case, I may repost this with the intended ending.

Fluff is good for the soul. Review, please?