A/N: If it isn't quite obvious, my friendship fics have perfectly bizarre plots.

Dedication: For Jess because I love her so much. We have the weirdest conversations, and she never fails to make me smile. Now, I hope that I can do the same. I know I sucked at comforting her last night, so I'm doing what I'm quite good at. It isn't all that good, but I do hope this will cheer her up; I don't really want her to feel down.

Disclaimer: KoMire 5ever. Oh wait, that's not canon. Aw. :(

"Okay. I don't know why I'm here and why I'm asking you for help regarding... this, but I am, so maybe you can hear me out?"

Without once looking up, Hotaru replies, "I'm busy, Shouda."

"Can't you at least hear me out? You know we haven't had history but now I am willingly seeking you for advice, aware of the fact that you'll gain more from this than I will."

Now that's what's catches Hotaru Imai's attention. Amethyst eyes bore through emerald ones, searching, as though seeing through her soul.

"One minute."

Sumire nods understandingly, aware of the clock ticking dangerously. One minute.

"You're not giving in unless money is involved so I'm giving you that. All of what I'll tell you can be used against me in the future. All of what will result from this, I'll owe to you. You may even use it to get me to do your bidding in the future and I won't refuse. I won't complain. And I'll treat you to lunch."

Hotaru ponders on her words silently, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her raven hair, calculating her course of action. Aware that she has more to gain than lose, she comes to an acquiescence.

"Fine. But make sure I don't get bored."

Hotaru never stares blankly. There always is a fire in her eyes, bright with determination, sparking with ferocity, and alight with understanding. Her gazes are straight ahead, never wandering nor wavering.

However, no matter how hard she contemplates, she cannot quite to a conclusion as to why Sumire Shouda—a person she deems smart and practical enough—has chosen her, Hotaru Imai—ice queen, genius inventor and master of no emotions—to be a love guru.

A freaking love guru.

"God damn it, Shouda. You do not make me leave my goddamn laboratory just to ask me goddamn love advice."

Hotaru Imai is a lady with class. She does not curse people, and she sure as hell does not refer to her laboratoy as goddamn.

But then, Sumire Shouda is stupid beyond recognition to even think that she—of all people—can help her with Koko.

Kokoro freaking Yome.

She does not quite know if Shouda can insult her intelligence any further.

"You are one of the smartest people in class. You're bound to know this. Surely you've given Mikan advice before?"

"Then," Hotaru says, her voice calm despite her annoyance, "ask her. Idiots understand each other."

"You don't understand!" Sumire says as she hits the table with her palm, "You are smart. Mikan is... Mikan. She'll advise me to be practically a saint. I don't want that, and I can't do that. I'm turning to you because you're smart, and you're logical."

"As flattered as I am, Shouda, I cannot quite accept your proposal," Hotaru says, her voice collected. "Believe me; I am doing you a favor."

Sumire is indecisive. She does not know if she will push it. Sighing, she sits back and turns her gaze above. She looks at the ceiling fan, its blades creating a blur of white from its rapid and continuous turning.

Turning, huh, Sumire thinks, everything's just turning. And spinning. And moving. The world, the people, the clock, the mind. Life. Sometimes, it's just too hard to keep up.

She sighs once again, and returns her gaze to the seat opposite hers, expecting it to be empty.

But it isn't. She finds amethyst eyes watching her intently. As she raises her eyebrow in question, Hotaru says, "Fine. Tell me about it."

Before speaking, Sumire allows herself to think for a short, short while that maybe, Hotaru really isn't all that cold.

"So yes, uhm, basically, I like this guy but I told him I didn't because what kind of woman would admit to a guy that she liked him, right? But then he told me he liked me back so now I don't—"

"So," Hotaru cuts her off coolly, "who is this guy you are talking about?"

"I… uhm, well, uh…"

"Well?" Hotaru asks, her eyebrow slightly raised.

"I-it's Koko, okay?" Sumire finally says, with her face red from embarrassment.

"I see. And you told him you liked Natsume?" Hotaru asks.

"Ho-how do you know?"

"Well," Hotaru starts, "I am Hotaru Imai, after all." She diverts the topic and asks, "So your problem is that you do not know how to tell Koko that it is he you really love? Did I get this right?"

Sumire nods, and adds, "I don't want him to think that I was doing it out of pity or something. I don't know how to tell it to him. It's just… ugh." She wrings her hands in frustration and sprawls her arm across the table in defeat.

"Do remember, Shouda, that talking isn't the only way to tell Koko how you really feel."

Her eyes shoot towards the raven-haired woman in front of her, not quite sure if she has heard her right.

"Stop that, Shouda. As I was saying… well, Koko is a mind reader. He is more likely to believe your thoughts than what you say."

Realization dawns on Sumire in an instant, much like a huge wave hitting her straight on the chest. This does not escape the inventor's keen eyes, and she smiles a little as she continues, "Quite frankly, the solution is simple, but you're over-thinking things and making such a big fuss out of it."

Contrary to how she usually reacts, Sumire smiles at Hotaru instead of snapping at her, and thanks her—not mentally this time, as she has usually did.

"Thank you, Hotaru."

She stands up to leave, but remembers something.

"Oh, how much do I pay you?"

Sumire does not know if her ear has been working properly at that moment, for Hotaru—the Hotaru Imai—has told her, "Ah, I don't need that. The food was enough. Now go to Koko and make up before I change my mind."

Sumire freezes in shock, but recovers right away. She flashes Hotaru a smile once more, hoping to herself, at least, that a new friendship has been formed, and runs—runs as fast as her feet can take her, the spiky brown hair and cinnamon eyes and goofy smile on her mind.

Hotaru sees all this, and smiles to herself as she gets her mushroom earplugs from her bag and says, "There, Yome. You heard that all, didn't you? Now go be a man and make a move."

She stands up, brushes her skirt, and walks back towards the lab with the conclusion that yes, she can be a love guru, after all.

end