HEARTBEAT

"HOW DO YOU know how to make this?" she whispered, out of breath as if she ran to the kitchen from her spot on her couch instead of walking.

"A friend of mine." I replied with a small smile.

"Hmm," she hummed.

"Although I was born in Korea, my adoptive parents moved to Chicago. They kicked me out last week after I..." she trailed off.

"You don't have to explain." I whispered before she could finish. I knew she was uncomfortable. She breathed a soft, relieved sigh.

I kneaded the dough, using the heels of my palms to mix the flour and butter, the glass bowl shifting under the pressured weight of my hands.

I kept them at the height of my belly button, shielding them from Aera's eyes.

Dropping the now double-sized circles of dough back onto the counter, I spread the pecan filling at their center, folding the edges of the dough until it was in the center.

Tossing each of them into the white and grey marble table, I slipped them into the pool of water that ran at the bottom of the pot, sitting on the stove harmlessly. Steam crawled around the lid, and I pushed the faucet's handle until the water ran over my flour covered hands.

"Are you comfortable?" I asked Aera, who was cocooned in a mountain of blankets.

She was trembling, tears shining like diamonds down her colorless skin. Her eyes were trained on the TV, nose pink from the heavy tissues.

She looks beautiful even when she's crying.

"Yes." she breathed, hands shaking near her chin as they propped her head, elbows hidden on her stomach.

I pursed my lips to hold in a snicker.

"If it's too scary..." I trailed off, knowing that despite her tears, she wanted to keep her pride.

"No," she scoffed, though her hands tightened their hold on the blankets.

The actress's face was streaked with tears, her wispy black hair pulled in a ponytail that fanned behind her as she backed away from her psychotic husband. Her shaky hand gripped a six-inch blade, the black leather barely visible in the dark blanket of the night sky.

The scene flashed to her son—the special boy—who stumbled through the snow, running through the maze by memory.

"Danny!" the mother cried as she watched her son exit the maze, the moonlight casting a beautiful shadow as they found each other.

Watching the husband limp his way to find his family—to kill them—made me flinch.

"You know," Aera interrupted, her tired eyelids half closed under the weight of sleep. She sighed heavily, as if the words had drained the rest of her remaining energy. Her head lopped to the side, cheek resting against the curve of my shoulder.

"I think I like you." she whispered.

The heat of her body brushed against my face, and just for a moment, I imagined my own body warming at the touch. For my face to burn, too, each time she scooted closer.

"I like you as well," I responded formally, offering an easy lopsided smile.

"You're a really good friend." I emphasized the word as if it would create a barrier between the two of us.

You should have never come back.

I felt my smile shake, the muscle in my jaw spasming.

"No." Aera stated, her eyes shut as if I would disappear.

Her inner turmoil made me stare at her intently. She peeked a look, peeling one of her eyes open. She winced the moment she caught sight of my face.

"W-What I mean..." she began, and I clasped my hands around her fidgeting fingers.

Anxiety.

She had anxiety.

"It's okay," I echoed my words from earlier, and she visually calmed. Her breathing slowed at my touch, her heartbeat relaxing into a soft 64 beats per minute. I allowed each pound to run through me, though I held my breath, knowing the pheromones would begin rolling from her body.

"What I mean..." she repeated without stuttering.

"—is would you like to go on a date?" she asked.

My eyes widened with surprise, and after a second of still silence, my face broke into a smile.

"Of course." I whispered gently, wishing my voice was even.

Wishing this wasn't the first time I thought I felt my dead, lifeless heart beat for the first time.

─────────────────

"Why didn't you tell me sooner, you little bitch?" she scolded on the other end of the line.

"Jimin."

"Fine. But if she doesn't marry you because you didn't give me enough time—"

"Jimin."

"Okay, okay! Jeez. Don't get your panties in a twist. I'll see you in a few, beautiful."

I hung up.

Keep it together, Kira.