A/N: I don't really know where this came from, but I hope it's okay.

I was listening to The Shins and their song, Kissing the Lipless. Hence the title, but I was thinking about it, and it kindasorta matches. Sort of, haha. :)

kissing the lipless

He pulled up in front of the house, nervous and worn and hopeful. The truck wasn't in the driveway, and the smoke coming from the chimney reminded him of an S.O.S. Everything was just pushing him, giving him misplaced hope and it was unfair.

He could see the puffs of his breath as he stepped out of his car. The snow flurries stung his cheeks, urging and urging him to delve into the protection of his warm car.

He got to the door, decorated with colorful lights, but he didn't knock. In fact, he just stared at it, looking like a moron freezing the top three layers of his skin off. His hand was shaking as he lifted his fist to the wood, but he couldn't tell if it was from the lack of heat or the nerves, burning inside of him.

But his fist never touched the wood. The door opened, and he was caught off guard.

The depth of her brown, brown eyes was just too much, and he tried to catch himself because he just wasn't ready for this. But her body was so close and he could feel her warmth because she was less than a hairs breadth away from his body, and he just...he just wanted...

She was watching him unfazed, unsurprised, but with curiosity sparkling.

It was silent for a beat.

"Hm," She said. "Mistletoe...it's parasitic, you know."

He blinked, following her gaze right above their heads. The site of the vegetation punched him in the gut. Eyes wild, he looked back down to her. Her face changed to unreadable. To think he spent twelve years of his life living with her, he shouldn't have not been able to read her.

Her mouth opened again, but he didn't hear anything. All he saw was the reddish pink outlining, and how it reminded him of a lethal rose, with so many, many sharp thorns.

He blames the snow. It was making him jittery and cold, and she was right there and warm and not inviting him in.

So he launched onto her mouth, open and rich and deathly sweet, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her. He felt the prickles of her lips sucking the life out of him, pulling his heart up through his throat, making his knees shake, his body wanting them to fold and fall and break. He wondered if her lips were created with thorns. He wondered why she was letting him kill himself. But most of all, he wondered how he ever let her go.

Her left hand found his face gently, but the metal stung more than the snow ever could. He recoiled, drawing backwards so fast he thought his neck broke, but his hands stayed and refused to let go. Because it was just an engagement. It technically didn't mean anything yet.

So they stared at each other for a while, their smoky breaths masking their faces.

The intensity of his searching eyes was breaking her down. And the mistletoe, up above, mimicked her in every way—right down to the melted snow that dripped down the face of the leaf.

The gravel trembled in time with the motor's arrival. And the thief that stepped out of the truck caught them, watching the boy's heart turn black and blue from the snow that stung and the misletoe that killed and the mistake that lodged it out of the cavity in the first place.

And the boy...he still wasn't letting go.

Please review! :D