The kiss lasted for barely a second. The girl wasted no time in biting his lip until it bled crimson. Kris recoiled at the taste of his own blood that filled his mouth like red jewels tumbling into a treasure chest. How many years had it been since he had been reminded he was still vulnerable? He tore his lips from the girl, and rubbed a finger over the bloodied area. The girl was swearing, but all he could focus on was the scent of his life. The metallic smell was overwhelming, for it seemed to foreshadow decay and death; a primitive fear fluttered over him as he tried to stop the bleeding.

“What’s wrong with you?” the girl spat at him, vehemently. Even in his panic, Kris could see the dried tear tracks on her face. He stood very still and pressed both hands to his mouth. There was a moment of silence as the girl watched him curiously. He could sense a sort of vengeance in her observation; his humiliation was revenge for all he had ever done to wrong her. He knew this, but he could do nothing to stop her as he tried to tamp down his hysteria. His breath escaped him in short gasps that merely heightened his anxiety. The girl was talking, perhaps to him, but he did not want to hear her taunts. He turned away from her.  

“Stop.” Her breath brushed his ear, and she clasped her arms around his waist. Though she stiffened, as though repulsed by his very being, she gently tugged his hands away from his mouth. “I’ll heal it. Just turn around and sit down so I can reach you.”

The thought of dying again was enough to cause Kris to listen to the girl without a fight. He sat, obediently, but would not look her in the eyes. She pressed two fingers against the wound, and they sat together as she worked her magic. With coolness, the girl's fingers also brought calmness. When the girl drew her hand away, Kris was lost in a muddled sort of contentment. He wanted to lean against the girl and have her hold him; there was a yearning for her tenderness that overtook him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, trying to sound impassive. “It was just a little bleeding.” Her words, though they were meant to be comforting, stung him and the yearning disappeared.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled aggressively. “Shut up about it.”

The girl stared at him. “You know, there was this kid in my class when I was eight, who’d always freak out whenever he thought there was a bug on him. For no good reason at all.”

Kris ignored her.

“Irrational fears aren’t anything to be ashamed of,” she said, “because they show that even the strongest of us are human.”

“Go play therapist somewhere else,” he snapped. “ off.” He hated that she knew she’d been stronger than him, mentally at least, and maybe even physically. If she’d wanted to, she could’ve made him bleed more. She could have killed him if she really tried.

“I don’t like you,” she said, her voice wavering as she ignored him, “but I hate Sehun even more right now.”

“You know,” he said, sarcastically, “there was this kid in my class when I was eight who’d always go cry at the most inconvenient times. For no good reason at all.”

Now it was her turn to ignore him, but the corners of lifted up a little bit.

 “Did you comfort him?” she asked.

“Crying is too annoying to deal with, so I just beat him up.”

“Really?”

"No, stupid. I can’t remember anything about my life.”

There was a pause, and the girl laughed.

“You’re awful, Kris, but sometimes I guess you aren’t too bad.”

It had been a long time since he’d felt the urge to smile like an idiot.

The girl was getting to him in the worst way possible.