Archive of Our Own

Hitomi, dead-tired but most of the way through her shift, rubs at her eye and yawns, only just bothering to cover up the noise with a hand. She doesn't actually mind working at her parents' little craft store because it's generally quiet enough that she can get some of her university assignments or revision done in between customers and clearing up when somebody drops bolts of fabric or a pile of swatches or paints, which they do far more often than she much likes, but it's also rather boring. 

Except for one thing. This really pretty girl, around the same age as Hitomi, who comes in with a notebook in hand and gorgeous green curls, long enough to reach her waist on the few occasions it isn't shoved back in some kind of messy bun or ponytail or haphazard braid that's as much flyaways as plait, and Hitomi has wanted to bury her hands and possibly her entire being into it since the minute she first saw the girl. And then there's the freckles and the lips and the eyes-  Look, if Hitomi hadn't already known she was very much a disaster lesbian, then this girl would have been her gay awakening.

The point is, the girl is absolutely beautiful in such a messy, easy way that Hitomi's heart has an unfortunate habit of stuttering and racing whenever she comes into the shop. Which, considering her job as, apparently, a seamstress, she does a lot. With her notebook - a pretty leather one, with simple patterns of swirling vines embossed into the cover - and her low rambles to herself about different textures and colours and stretches and threads, she will make a beeline for the textiles and sewing section and then drift there for a while, brushing gentle touches over different bolts of fabric, or holding up bits and pieces to get a better look at them. Sometimes she kneels on the floor with swatches spread around her, and Hitomi watches on with more of a smile than she'd like to admit. It's probably good that the girl usually comes during the quietest times rather than at the beginning and ends of the traditional work day when it's busier, else Hitomi might have to ask her not to and that would be awful and awkward and- yeh, no. The thought of it makes her shudder.

(Hitomi kind of really, really wishes that it was her getting those soft touches, that it was her that the girl stared at for hours with eyes like auroras and emeralds and that rich velvet fabric they got in a while ago, shadowed forests and clover and leaves with sunlight filtering through. It's almost celestial. And that green surrounded by thick, dark eyelashes and freckles that are practically golden, studding the pale skin with constellations more ineffably beautiful than the stars themselves...  It's a miracle that Hitomi hasn't somehow died just looking at the girl before now.)

The girl does have a name, Hitomi learns. Well, obviously she knew the girl must have one, but she's awkward and never dared to ask and the girl's a customer which makes it even more awkward and Hitomi just feels like an odd little human bean - or a tall human bean, really - because she has no idea of how to be a functioning person, okay?

So, luckily for her, the girl comes in one day and only takes half an hour to bring the first three bolts of fabric - two laces, one golden and one ivory; a light silk-cotton in some kind of off-white that probably has an actual name that Hitomi doesn't know - on the counter, smiling up at her. And oh damn, the blatant reminder of how Hitomi is a good head taller than her has the shop-worker blushing a little already. What she fails to notice of course is that the seamstress is also a bit flushed when she looks up at Hitomi, her eyes sparkling.

"U-uhm, hi! I h-hope it's not inconvenient or anything but, uhm, could I m-maybe j-just start a pile of things h-here? I've got a fairly big list of bits and p-pieces today?"

"Sure you can...?" 

Hitomi is so busy congratulating herself for actually managing to be something close to smooth for once that she nearly misses the answer.

"Ah, I'm Midoriya Izumi! B-but you, uhm, please call me I-Izumi," she stutters out and oh no Hitomi is dead, dying, the cute girl offered to let her use her first name, her heart is stopping-

Okay, maybe she's being a little tiny bit overdramatic but she needs a moment here. 

"Cool thanks. Uh, call me Hitomi then. Are- What- You- Sorry, words are difficult sometimes- What're you making with all this stuff?"

"Oh! One of my Mum's friends is getting married and my Mum's work is a bit more full-on right now than I am so I offered to make it instead and it's a really interesting brief and Mei-san is really lovely so I've designed the dress and she liked it so now I'm getting the base materials. This golden Chantilly lace is really delicate and pretty and I want to overlap it with the ivory - see?" She holds up the edges of the bolts over the top of each other,

"The gold is more subtle and subdued that way, more appropriate for a wedding, but it still glints through and it should be really elegant and gorgeous. And it gives a hint of tone and depth to the porcelain white that I'm using for the dress itself. It'll warm it up too and Mei-san has really warm colouring so it should look really lovely. I was thinking to use French seams too, and using a lighter lace like Chantilly should help stop any bunching where it gets tucked in and..." 

The ramble continues for several minutes. Hitomi revels in every word, in how the girl - in how Izumi - gestures as she talks, the little nicks and calluses on her hands catching her attention as Izumi points and demonstrates and does big 'wahh' movements. Her excitement has those eyes glimmering and sparkling, catching in the light and her freckles seem gilt, prettier than any lace, and there's hints of teeth through her plush lips as she talks and dammit how can any one person be this attractive?

Is this homophobia? Hitomi's pretty sure this is homophobia.

"Ah- Uh, sorry I rambled so m-much! I know i-it can be fairly annoying, I-I'll just shut up-p now-"

"No!" Hitomi cries out and simultaneously curses herself and congratulates herself. She's trying to be suave and attractive, not a hot mess. Well, maybe the hot part. Just less of the mess, preferably.
"Sorry, no, I meant that it's fine! It- It was really interesting and, uh, you're clearly passionate too which is, you know, pretty cool. So, uh, yeh, no, you're good!"  Well, that had been a horrific jumble of words and Izumi probably thinks she's an idiot now and-   A giggle, air-light and sugar-sweet, rings out in the still air, somehow intimate despite having a counter-top between them and Hitomi wants to melt and disappear and kiss this girl all at once.

None of those are possible though, more's the pity, so she lets herself smile instead, and gathers the three bolts into their original neat pile once more. Right, back on track. No kissing the cute girl-she-definitely-has-a-crush-on today. Not at all.

"Do you need any more help collecting up the other stuff?" she offers instead.

"A-ah, I'm fine, probably, thank you? But, uhm, I'll ask if I do?"  Better than she was expecting, honestly.

"Please do," Hitomi says, hopefully not sounding too desperate. And when Izumi smiles, rocking forwards onto the balls of her feet, before turning and walking away, there are little twisty knots in the taller girl's stomach, heady and heated, a match to how her heart is thundering, a flush no-doubt dusting the tips of her ears like freckles do Izumi's.

Almost an hour later, near the end of Hitomi's morning shift and after only three other customers, there's a clatter and series of muted thuds, along with a short, sharp cry. In the same voice that had been rambling about lace not long before.

"Izumi, are you alright?" she calls, even as she hurries around the counter and towards the part of the textiles section that she can't see from said counter.

"Y-yes!" Somehow Hitomi doesn't entirely believe that because she turns the corner to find the greenette knelt on the floor, trying to re-roll several different bolts of fabric in amongst scattered white covered-buttons and two spools of pale golden thread. The buttons might be everywhere, but the spools are fortunately still wrapped, which will make cleaning up far easier. Still not ideal though.

"Let me get the buttons," the taller girl offers before even thinking about it, settling on her knees too, already reaching out. Clearly flustered, Izumi shifts some, going to pick them up instead, but instead their hands just collide and they both get a brief, beautiful heat, the lovely glance of skin on skin, and they freeze for a moment. Then they let out matching yelps, hands retracting, and they can't look each other in the eye for a time that stretches out far longer than it perhaps should have, a little bit awkward but mostly just embarrassed. It was sweet and so very wonderful, that momentary touch, so warm and gentle, the glint of a sunrise through drawn curtains, a glimpse of fire reflecting across calm waters. It was perfection.

But perfection only lasts so long, and they both silently go back to collecting up the spilled bits and pieces. It's not really stilted, but there's a frisson in the air between them, half tense and half happy, yet neither of them are able to fully pick up on it. Pity really.

Hitomi doesn't see Izumi for a little while after that. Not through design though, simply an amalgamation of exam season, her insomnia kicking up a fuss, and bad timing of what shifts she does take. So when the taller girl finally sees Izumi again, even more of her breath is stolen than usual.

Half of her hair is caught back in a seemingly random strip of deep red chenille fabric, most likely an offcut, and somehow that's so utterly Izumi that Hitomi wants to laugh and sigh and kiss her at the same time, but she has to make do with smiling instead, neither surprised nor offended when the greenette doesn't even notice in the bustle of her usual beeline for the textiles section. Dammit, she's so cute. She mumbles and rambles and always has pinpricks all over her fingers like she's clumsy with a needle despite how much practice she must have sewing and her eyes sparkle like they contain all the constellations that dot her skin with golden warmth and Hitomi- Hitomi pines.  With the sweetest of aches in her heart, creeping through her ribs and sparking down to her fingertips, Hitomi wishes to be able to hold this beautiful girl close for a long, long time.

Izumi is already in the shop and browsing when Hitomi comes down from the family apartment to start her shift. Well, browsing is a tad misleading given that the greenette already has her hands filled with no less than six shoulder pads, some rather pretty blue thread, and is looking through some of the heavier silk fabrics.

Hitomi calls out a quiet greeting and gets a brief turn of the head and wonderfully bright grin in return, even though Izumi is obviously caught up in her notes and the fabric bolts in front of her, eyes catching on the blue section as she turns to look at Hitomi, and she's gone in the same few seconds as she turned round. The insomniac doesn't begrudge it though, not when she gets to watch Izumi in her element. It's certainly a very lovely sight.

Almost an hour later, Izumi has apparently made her decisions, with some mid-tone blue wool blend alongside a pale yellow silk to go along with everything she'd already picked up, and she walks them all up to the counter, Hitomi already eagerly asking her what this particular project is. And oh, how stunning those green eyes are when they light up like this, full of passion and joy and zeal,

"I'm making a blazer in that old power jacket-style. It's a really beautiful old vintage pattern that's actually from an original 80s magazine, which is super amazing to work with, although it doesn't say a lot about the best types of fabrics to use. That just meant that I could do even more research than usual though! And, well, a lot of the wool blends seem to have been really popular, often combined with a synthetic like polyester, so I was looking at some of the blends that are in here and this blue one was just about the right ratio, I think, because if the wool content is higher than it tends to give it a bit more volume and form, so the overall impact will be crisper and hang better, neater too hopefully. Although easing the sleeves into proper power jacket type blazers like this isn't the easiest thing ever, but I've done it so many times now for this general form that it's only a matter of adjusting to the different fabrics and specific cuts, and this blend has that higher wool ratio to the synthetic fibres, so it should hold well." She takes a breath, the first noticeable one in her entire explanation so far, and dives right back in.

"And this blue? It's so lovely. Maybe it sounds silly but it gives me the same sense as umami does for food? Just that depth and richness to it. It's fairly close to what the Pantone colour set would probably label 'lake blue' or 'backpack blue', with a sort of dark, dusky green undertone that's just subtle enough that the colour is still a pure shade of blue, and the mid-tone will brighten up a dark outfit or ground a paler one which should suit my client because she has a really expansive wardrobe - expensive too, funnily enough - that needs really versatile pieces that she can pair up with lots of different things. And then I'll have to do some fittings too, but Tachibana-san has been pretty easy-going so far so hopefully that'll be fine and having looked at some of her favourite pieces, this blue and the general vibe of the a power jacket should work really well for her, you know? And then I needed a lining so I thought I should look for a silk or at least a-Ah! S-sorry Hitomi, I rambled again, didn't I?"  

Hitomi wants nothing more than to say 'love, you carry on, every word from your mouth is beautiful and I want to hear more' but she's awkward and doesn't want to be too forward when she's fairly sure that the other girl won't feel the same, so instead she only smiles, reaching forward to tap a brief, gentle rhythm against the back of Izumi's hand,

"I like when you ramble. You're really cu- clever and you know a lot. So, yeh, it's fine!"  Damn, she nearly messed that up then. But the insomniac covers it up with a raised eyebrow and starts to scan through the various bolts of fabric, blue thread and then the six shoulder pads in distraction.

"Six shoulder pads? I thought you were only making one blazer?" It's an easy enough question, and genuine too, and Izumi lights up at the honest interest,

"Ah, well, sometimes you need to double them up so I bought three pairs just in case! I doubt I'll need them, but it should cover me for it and having some spares will just take up more space that I barely have is all," she laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear as she shuffles her feet and dammit, this girl needs to stop being so cute because Hitomi very much wants to be the one curling no-doubt soft hair behind an ear decorated with pretty freckles.

It's not to be though, not now at least, so she keeps her sigh to herself and takes the payment, mood brightening again with a brush of barely-callused fingertips over her palm. Izumi's oh-so sweet and brilliant, really.

Izumi seems less relaxed when she walks into the shop one summer day. Her hair is down, in a slightly knotted array around her face, falling down her back and catching on her arms whenever she reaches for different buttons and threads, her little frown growing with each repetition. 

Luckily for Hitomi, the rest of the shop is void of customers, so she doesn't hesitate to round the counter and approach the harried girl.

"Izumi, hey. Are you alright? You seem a bit, uh, out of sorts?"

"Oh! Hi Hitomi, uhm, yes, just not the best day, you know?" And she sounds okay, but the taller girl can't miss the slight wince when the greenette looks up at her, the lights above reflecting in her eyes, and oh. That would make sense?

"Would you, uhm, like me to braid your hair for you quickly? Sorry if that's weird! But I know some braids that are good for avoiding headaches and, well, uh, I-" She stumbles through the offer, but she means every fumbled word.

"No, I- I'd like that," Izumi hurries out and damn, is she actually blushing? Hitomi is trying not to stare but it's so pretty, the red underlying the freckles until it's like stars in a sunset, or a perfect strawberry, and with the thick curtains of dark green curls tumbling either side like ivy... Hitomi has never adored someone this much before. Never.

However, now is not the time to focus on that, so Hitomi steps behind Izumi and begins to delicately gather her thick hair at the nape of her neck. The curls are soft and lustrous, and every time she shifts them a sweet smell seems to grow heavier and, oh no, be strong her poor lesbian heart. If she dies braiding Izumi's hair then at least it would be a good way to go.

"Still alright?" She murmurs, instead of saying any of that, and she gets a tiny nod in return. Well, that's a good start.

After taking a few more moments to brush her fingers through the lovely curls than strictly necessary, Hitomi begins to separate out strands, glad that she happens to keep a hair tie on her wrist because she might have an undercut, but the top of her hair is still just long enough that a hair band is ideal for getting the front of it out of her face on days she hasn't styled it at all. With a soft snap of elastic, the taller girl ties one half loosely out of the way, hoping it won't aggravate Izumi's headache, and sets to twining the other locks together in a long, gentle braid that curls along the crown of her head, looping up and over in a carefully-pulled together hairstyle, incorporating more hair as it goes, and it takes Hitomi over ten minutes, but she continues with this, moving onto the other half of the lovely mass partway through, and soon enough Izumi has a fully-plaited hairstyle. There are two separate braids that circle around her head in something vaguely reminiscent of princesses and brides, not quite as tight and uniform as anything that formal, but the slack should help prevent her headache worsening. It's a crown of ivy-curls.

"That any better?"  Her quiet mutter, accompanied by oh-so gently probing at some of the tighter parts, making sure none of the strands are pulled too harshly, has the most gorgeous sigh escaping, Izumi's shoulders slumping and the pale, freckled slope of her neck is so very enticing like this, decorated with a faint flush and gilt freckles and by Kami Hitomi wants to kiss along that stunning column, nuzzle against the collar of the worn linen shirt, and she has to physically tense up to stop herself.

It doesn't help that she gets a soft little murmur in reply to her concern. The sound is delicate and grateful, almost a moan, and so very charming because it sounds like what Hitomi imagines she might pull from Izumi if she were to kiss her soundly, all lips and heat and gentle holds.

But that isn't what's happening here, so instead Hitomi indulges a little and uses a soft touch against a faint knob of spine to guide Izumi back around. Thoughtlessly, Hitomi reaches up to brush the loose end of a curl back off of the shorter girl's forehead, taking a moment to tuck it in and snorting softly when the unruly hair immediately springs straight back out.  (The insomniac doesn't know it of course, but Izumi stares up at her with a thousand suns in her gaze because oh no, Hitomi has always been cute and clearly kind, but there's something so gentle and intimate to her doing this for Izumi, and when Hitomi let out that little huff of laughter, a dimple in her left cheek and the mercury of her eyes flaring with something more than starlight; layers of jewels like stained glass, all overlaid by a beautiful grey-purple, slate and heather and night skies, it had done something to Izumi beyond her own comprehension. Something wonderful.)

"Ah, sorry!" The tone is more flustered than anything else, Hitomi leaning back a little, about to continue apologising, but Izumi cuts her off easily enough,

"Don't be. It was lovely, th-thank you," Izumi assures, wanting to say more but not quite daring. Maybe another time.

Yes, another time.

"New project?" Hitomi asks one afternoon, scanning the labels for the two sets of yarn Izumi has offered up today. The bundles are thick and plush in her hands, soft as can be, and part of her is screaming inside because the two colours - a rich, deep green with paler pastel flecks and a purple that harks back to violets and thunder storms all at once, sweet and dark and inviting - remind her of them both but she knows that's ridiculous, so she keeps her smile lazy and her posture interested, even as she forces down the warmth welling up in her chest. She has to be wrong. Why would Izumi buy yarn that represents the both of them? Hitomi is literally just a shop assistant, she really shouldn't be getting her hopes up. 

"Y-yes! Well, not directly. I thought, as it's w-winter and w-work's a bit quiet I might try to pick up knitting again because it's been a while and I used to find it really relaxing, particularly because my hands can get sore and stiff this time of year so it's kind of like a really basic physio exercise to keep me relaxed and I love to give hats and gloves and things to people I care about! I've got a plan for these particular yarns though, which will hopefully work out well?" The questioning lilt is adorable and utterly unnecessary in Hitomi's opinion.

"I'm sure whatever you make will be amazing, Izumi."  She probably sounds a bit too lovesick and dreamy at that, but the other girl only flashes a shy little grin, and the hints of teeth and plush lips pressing at freckled cheeks are too adorable for words.

So, instead of using words, Hitomi makes do with brushing delicate fingertips over Izumi's knuckles as she takes the tote bag the greenette brought with her to pack away the yarns and her receipt.

~~~

Four days later, Izumi comes in again, a brown paper bag to accompany her usual tote and notebook, and she only stops for long enough to buy some thread and sewing machine needles before, whilst Hitomi is distracted with putting away the individual yen coins, the paper bag gets deposited on the counter and, calling a quiet goodbye, Izumi scurries to leave. By the time Hitomi has shoved the register shut, a reply already on her lips, the shop door is gently swinging shut and she deflates a bit, groaning at her own social incompetence because has she really just managed to offend her favourite customer without even realising, let alone intending to? Surely she isn't so bad at all of this that-

Oh. Oh no, Izumi's left her bag on the counter, what if she needs whatever's in it?

Hurrying to pick up the bag, Hitomi abruptly notices that there's a tag attached to one of the handles, with pretty green patterns on one side, abstract, and a series of scrawled words on the other. Maybe she should- Unable to help herself, Hitomi scans the note. And oh.

Hitomi,

 

You're always really lovely and helpful and I wanted to make something for you? Hope you don't find it too forward or anything! I just saw the purple yarn and it was such a gorgeous tone and reminded me of you and I couldn't help but want to use it to make you a little gift. Then I saw the green too, and, well, this happened!

 

I hope you like it,

Lov  Izumi

For a long minute, the girl simply stares at the note. Izumi had intended to leave this behind, for her to have it, and the very idea of it has Hitomi's brain short-circuiting.

Then, in a mad scramble that only just manages to be careful of the packaging because she would hate to damage any part of this gift, the insomniac slides the bag closer to her, pulls out the scrunched layer of simple grey tissue paper at the top of the bag, and finally brings out the softest scarf she has ever touched in her life.

It's a gorgeous thing. The soft, luscious wool already feels warm to her touch, knitted immaculately in what Hitomi is fairly sure is a garter stitch, and it's got a comforting weight to it, not stiff or stuffy but still clearly perfect for winter. The majority of the fabric now pooled across her palms is that beautiful indigo-violet, but the edges of the scarf and the short fringes at either end are made of the green. That stunning shade that tells of winter leaves and jewels in the shade, that absolutely screams Izumi, and it surrounds the colour that Hitomi can't help but see herself in. Like... Well, like a hug. And when she loops the scarf oh-so carefully around her neck, it settles like one too. It's not quite right, a bit too textured and not quite warm enough, no heartbeat to be found, but it still feels how Izumi's arms around her neck surely would, and there's nothing more utterly charming than getting something like a permanent hug from the girl she adores so much.

Then Hitomi breathes in and all she can smell is that sweet scent of Izumi, a hint of vanilla and raspberry with just that hint of something spicier underneath, cinnamon perhaps, and it's even more fitting than the insomniac could have dreamed up from the hints of hair-braiding scent she's gleaned a month or two ago now. And she had put quite a bit of effort into those imaginings. More than perhaps she should have. 

That doesn't matter now though, not when she can bury her face in the lovely smell, so fragrant and enticing, and in that unfairly soft material, and she doesn't want to take this scarf off ever. Truly.

Instead of letting herself purely revel in the beauty of Izumi's gift for too long, Hitomi delicately places the tissue paper back in the bag and tucks it under the counter with some of her textbooks and snacks, to be taken upstairs later when she's not on shift, and readjusts how the scarf is draped around her neck, loosening it but also carefully piling it quite high, so that if she just barely ducks her head, she gets another breath of Izumi's scent. It reminds her of ivy-crown curls and star-strike freckles and home every time.

Damn, she's really in deep, isn't she?

~~~

It's nearly a week later when Izumi happens to come into the crafts shop when Hitomi is at the counter, three different textbooks spread out with her laptop and main notebook. And about seven random pens and highlighters, with three apparently on the floor already, one of which is empty and a second is scratchy as hell. Useless.

But her mood over her favourite pen being about to run out of ink is cheered up in less than a second when there's a flash of green at the door, the sound of the shop bell, and then a familiar voice, soft and strong all at once,

"Hello Hitomi."  The insomniac goes to reply, but then something beneath the mass of curls catches her eye instead and, even as she stands from her seat, Hitomi is staring because much like the purple-with-green scarf around her neck, there is a green scarf swathed around Izumi's neck which shouldn't be significant in itself, and yet Hitomi is fixated. Because the green yarn is bordered by a rich purple, with a fringe of the same contrasting tone, and it's clearly a pair to the taller girl's gift. The other half.

Hitomi is rounding the shop counter before she can even think about it, and Izumi is staring up at her with something glinting in her eyes but the taller girl doesn't even think about it before she's latching fingers into the lush wool and pulling gently, guiding Izumi onto tiptoes even as Hitomi is leaning down and then they're kissing.

It's not fireworks and butterflies, but it's more than perfect all the same. Izumi's lips are warm and plush and a little chapped, just enough for a slight edge to the sensation, and Hitomi is still tugging softly on the shorter's scarf, fingers curled in the fabric and thumbs free to brush along the sides of a freckled jaw as they press their lips together. It's a chaste thing, pliant and breathy, as exquisite as gossamer, fine and swaying, and oh, how they never want to stop. Hitomi feels the moment when Izumi's lips curl into a little smile against her own, how the shorter girl doesn't hesitate even in the half a second when the insomniac registers her own actions and debates pulling back. No, Izumi leans up into Hitomi's kiss, her own fingers, pinpricked as usual, lacing together at the base of the taller girl's spine, holding her loosely, sweetly, and eventually they both lean back a little, red-faced but grinning.

"Uh, hey Izumi," Hitomi manages, burning to the very tips of her ears, but there are arms around her waist and the most stunning green eyes glowing up at her and, really, what more could she ask for? Well, except not fumbling her words even now.

"Hi," comes the shy little greeting in return and wow. Izumi is somehow even more beautiful when kiss-flushed, freckles an adorable golden brown dusting atop the gorgeous blush, and her lips just that little bit darker despite how softly they were kissing, and Hitomi wants more. Wants everything Izumi is willing to give her.

She manages to restrain herself enough to only press her lips to the greenette's forehead. And when she gets a pleased giggle in return, it has her heart fluttering and she can't help but twist her fingers further into the lovely scarf, worming through the fabric until she can curl her knuckles delicately against a warm neck, feel the pulse fluttering beside her touch, and everything about it feels like coming home. Like she belongs.

"Don't suppose this all means you want to do that again? Like, a lot?" she asks, breathing the words against the curled beginning of a hairline, not quite daring to look Izumi in the eye as she asks.

"A lot- a lot sounds good."  And all of the shorter girl's confidence has apparently disappeared in about half a second because she squeaks out the words, tightening her hold on Hitomi's waist. And said insomniac can only smile even wider in response, that one dimple catching Izumi's attention as it always does, and then Hitomi is leaning down a tiny bit more to feather breeze-light kisses all over that beautiful face, following the whims of freckles and sunlight, and then Izumi tilts her face and they're kissing again. Another simple, sweet thing that couldn't be better.

Hitomi has a fair feeling that nothing could ever be better than having Izumi in her arms.

(The next time Izumi comes into the shop, it's to a flushed kiss across the counter and a murmured question of "What're you making this time, love?" pressed against her lips with the heat of breath and happiness between them. That happiness will never fade, no matter how many times they share a moment together. Never.)