Rian began untying his apron, slinging it over his arm.

"W-what are you doing?" I stammered, still in a state of mild shock. After having his entire body pressed up against me, I was not comfortable with the idea of Rian taking off any items of clothing, even an apron.

"Your hand is still bleeding heavily. Until we get the bandage on it, I have to tie your arm to slow the blood loss."

"Is that really necessary?" I asked nervously. "It's not like I'm dying, and this amount of blood lost isn't fatal or anythi—"

My voice was abruptly cut off when Rian grabbed the first aid kit and yanked me forward, leading me by my uninjured hand towards a bench in the bathroom lounge. He sat me down and seized my other hand, extending it so it was perpendicular to my body. I watched him in stunned silence as he kneeled and deftly tied the string of the apron around my arm, tightening it to impede blood flow.

"Lecturing me about being careful in the kitchen," he muttered icily. "Shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?" He paused momentarily to glare into my face. "It wouldn't have been that bad. Why didn't you just let me bump into it? It was my mistake for leaving it there in the first place."

I stared into the dark depths before me. Yet again, I felt myself being swayed against my will, a lone swimmer in a black sea. Strangely, inevitably, I found myself telling him the truth.

"I didn't want you to get hurt," I murmured softly, entranced.

His eyes widened, and I felt his grip on my hand tighten almost imperceptibly. Inexplicably, I felt a wave of sadness come over me. As I continued to gaze into his eyes, I couldn't help but wonder: what exactly happened to him in the three years I was gone? He'd changed so much, to the point where I doubted if he was even the same person, despite having the same face. But other times—times like this—I could see just a glimmer of who he used to be.

Suddenly, Rian cleared his throat and dropped his gaze. The guard was back up, and it seemed as impenetrable as ever. "I have to disinfect it first. It will sting, so bear with it," he said, his voice as cold and impassive as always.

I sighed in defeat. "Don't worry," I murmured, closing my eyes. "Pain's an old friend of mine." Rian's hands paused momentarily before resuming their work. He didn't ask what I meant by it, so I simply assumed he hadn't heard me.

Mistake number four. But we'll get to that later.

I gritted my teeth as he dabbed the disinfectant on my palm. After a few moments, I felt the stinging fade away and he began wrapping gauze around my hand.

"Done." He got up, untying his apron from my arm and slinging it back around his waist, before placing the first aid kit back on the top shelf of the toiletry stand.

"Uh," I hesitated before smiling impishly. "Do you think you could leave that on the bottom shelf instead?" I asked sheepishly. Just in case a situation arose, I wanted it to be within reach. My reach, that is.

Rian looked at me through the corner of his eye. "Why?" he asked coolly. "Do you plan on getting hurt and needing it again?" he continued, his voice scarily calm. 

"Uh, no," I stammered. "Not at all, I just—"

"Then it should be fine leaving it where it is." He strode away from the toiletry stand, leaving the first aid kit stranded on top of it. 

I rolled my eyes. "So petty," I muttered under my breath.

"Did you say something?"

"No, nothing at all!" I chirped. "Shall we go back to class then?" I suggested. Rian nodded, barely glancing in my direction. I smiled wryly—things were back to normal now, huh?

On the way back, a thought suddenly hit me. "Wait, Rian," I called, panicked. "Did you actually just leave the ratatouille on the stove to burn?"

His expression darkened. "No," he said coldly. "I left it in the hands of your friend. Rokim, I think it was."

"Oh, good," I sighed in relief. "Rokim is a great cook, he'll handle it." Rian muttered something under his breath, but I was too caught up in my own excitement to catch what it was. I glanced at him, a wicked grin spreading over my face. 

 "But seriously, those guys really won't know what hit 'em! Who knew my first protégé would be such a natural?"

"I'm not your protégé." Rian said icily. He turned away from me, but if I didn't know better, I would have sworn the tips of his ears went the slightest bit pink.

We returned to our class. Upon entering, I quickly hid my bandaged hand in my apron pocket and followed Rian inside. No need to cause unnecessary concern, after all.

"Hanna!" Rokim's voice boomed through the whole room. I winced; I could only imagine how much his arm hurt after stirring carefully for that long. 

"Where have you been? I've been covering for you guys forever!"

"Sorry, sorry!" I smiled apologetically at him. "Bathroom break." I watched as Rian, stoic as ever, reclaimed his position. He seamlessly continued where Rokim left off without missing a beat. I felt a strange sense of pride watching him.

Rokim's eyes narrowed. "Wait," he said, jolting me back to the present. "You . . . went to the bathroom?"

"Yeah," I responded, confused.

"With him? Together?"

"Uhh . . ." I stammered. "O-of course not! I guess he just happened to go when I did. Call of nature, and all that." 

Rokim still looked suspicious, but he seemed to let it go. I quickly went back over to my station, eager to let everyone try the ratatouille we had made. I grabbed a spoon, gesturing for Rian to turn off the stove. I inhaled the aroma first, then tasted it. After a minute, I gave it a nod of approval. "Let's serve it now," I told Rian. "Grab some plates from the cabinet."

Within minutes, everyone had a plate of ratatouille hotpot—mash potatoes as a base, with the ratatouille in a layered arrangement on top. Lisa caught my eye and gave me a thumbs up. "Smells great!" she mouthed. I smiled; when you were a chef, good food was half about the aroma, after all.

"All right, let's see what our newest recruit can do," Prof announced, lifting his fork. He sliced through the ratatouille, bringing a portion to his lips. Everyone else did the same, and I watched alongside Rian as they all took a bite. I felt the tingle of butterflies in my stomach, but of course Rian looked completely unaffected, his arms crossed in nonchalant arrogance. 

Prof chewed for a moment before swallowing. He had a thoughtful look on his face, which only made me more anxious, but I made sure not to show it. Strangely, I felt compelled to display some sort of confidence in Rian, despite myself.

"So?" I asked Prof. "What's the verdict?" 

Prof still didn't say anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Rian's finger tapping on his arm. I smothered a smile—he was as impatient to know as I was. 

Finally, Prof opened his mouth to speak. Dropping his fork on his plate with a clatter, he looked up at me. I held my breath, leaning forward slightly.

"It's—"

"It's awesome!" Lisa interrupted loudly. She grinned widely at me, holding her fork. "Seriously, how the hell did you teach a total newbie how to make this?"

I laughed, feeling the tension leave my shoulders. Prof gave her a look, which shut her up quickly, but he looked amused when he turned back around to face us.

"As I was saying, before Lisa interrupted," he continued, "it's excellent." He smiled warmly at me. "I expected nothing less." 

I grinned back, feeling a sense of pride overwhelm me. Prof turned his attention to Rian, who'd been silent the entire time. "As for you," he said, "this is far beyond the level usually attributed to beginners. The teacher, although important, is there to guide you. The student is the one who makes the actual dish. In that regard, well done."

Rian nodded curtly in response. "Thank you." His expression didn't waver, but I didn't care. Whether he showed it or not, this was something to be proud of. Not that I'd ever tell him that, of course.

"Alright, now I want some," I said brightly. I heaped a serving onto two plates, offering one to Rian. "Here. A chef should at least eat their own food."

After a moment, he took it from me. I tossed him a fork, which he caught with ease, before digging into my own helping. Everyone else continued to eat as well, chattering amongst themselves. Rokim made his way to me, leaning against the counter to my right. 

"So the first day's been a success, huh?" he asked casually. "Mmpf," I agreed, my mouth full. I swallowed so I could speak more clearly. "It actually went a lot better than I thought," I said cheerfully. 

"Is that so?" Rokim twirled his fork. I took another bite, genuinely impressed with how good it was. "Ah, but maybe a bit of red wine . . ." I mumbled distractedly, thinking of ways to improve the recipe. 

"Then what's that?" Rokim asked suddenly. I was drawn out of my thoughts by Rokim pointing his fork down at me.

"What?" I asked, frowning perplexedly.

Rokim put his fork and plate down on the counter, reaching down to me. I watched his actions in confusion. It was only when he grabbed my injured hand that I understood.

"What is this?" Rokim repeated, his voice not so casual anymore. He brought my bandaged hand up between us, drawing my eyes to it. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Oh." I shifted my weight. "About that . . . it was just a small cut."

"It's not small." He turned my hand over, examining it in concern. "How did you even cut it?" he asked tensely. "You've never made a mistake with a knife. Not once."

"I guess there's a first time for everything," I said awkwardly, forcing a laugh. I pulled my hand away, tucking it back into the pocket of my apron. The twinges in my chest returned, more intense than before. "Don't worry about it," I insisted.

Rokim leaned forward angrily, not letting it go. "It was him, wasn't it? He did this." 

"Rian didn't do anything to me, Rokim," I said, smiling at him. "Thanks for worrying, but I just made a mistake. That's all."

Rokim eyed me suspiciously, staying silent. "Really?" he asked finally. 

"Really."

He sighed, some of the intensity leaving his gaze. "In that case, be careful! You're already tiny, we can't have you accidentally chopping off whatever little there is."

"Watch yourself, Kimmy." I narrowed my eyes at him. He simply laughed in response, patting my head. "Cantaloupe," he murmured fondly before walking back to his station.

I watched him go, still scowling. He had no idea how close to death he'd just come.

Grabbing my fork again, I started to finish off what was left of my food. As I was about to take a bite, I caught sight of Rian, watching me expressionlessly. When he saw me looking at him, he immediately turned away and ignored me.

"What the heck . . ." I mumbled. Had he heard everything?

My thoughts were interrupted by another stabbing pain in my chest. I rubbed my right side, feeling the sharp pangs hit, one after another. It wasn't as bad as the other night, but it sure as hell wasn't pleasant either. I did my best to ignore it.

"Alright, everyone," Prof called. "Let's tidy up."

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. We washed the dishes and sampled a few other foods, taking notes on what Prof said about them. Before I knew it, my first day back in class was over.

Rokim and I grabbed our bags and headed out. Rian was nowhere to be seen—he'd disappeared as soon as Prof dismissed us. 

"Want to eat out today?" Rokim asked, scrolling through restaurants on his phone. "To celebrate your successful return."

"Nah," I said quickly, feeling the right side of my chest ache. "I think I'd rather chill at home today." 

Rokim shrugged. "Alright then. I'm gonna go talk to Prof for a sec, but I'll see you at home?"

"S-sure."

I watched him jog back to the classroom before heading out the door. We lived in the same apartment building, only a few doors down from each other, so it'd be hard to hide it if I ended up having another episode. He worried way too much.

On a whim, I pulled my hand out of my pocket, studying the carefully wrapped gauze. I felt my face heat up as a memory of me telling Rian I didn't want him to get hurt resurfaced.

"Nope!" I exclaimed in embarrassment. "Not thinking about it." 

I stuffed my hand back in my pocket and headed home. It'll be over in a week, I kept telling myself. Just a few more days. I could handle that.

Right?