The sound of his heart beat did in fact sound like the beating of a drum. All those descriptions in books, movies, plays, and even from doctors, were true. Kiku had hoped that he could prove and better explain the sound of a beating heart from listening to Herakles' heartbeat. He failed to find a new way to describe it and was a little bit angered that he couldn't, but he wasn't a complete failure. He had noted carefully as he listened to Hera breathe in and out slowly, felt his chest rise up and down in a drowsy rhythm, as he had slept on peacefully. He had listened intently, always being alert to details of each beat, so concentrated that he lost himself between each pause and jumped when he heard and felt the next beat. He had spent hours like that, curled close to Hera's side, enjoying the sun-like warmth that always seem to radiate off him, his head resting on his chest and ear placed directly where his heart hid beneath tanned skin and within a cage of bones.
To him, it sounded like a tribal drum beating, but very far away, maybe at the top of a mountain where it echoed off timber woods and boulders. Or perhaps it was the sound of a child's drum being beat from underneath a thick blanket. It was hard to explain exactly, because he was sure others described it differently, but he knew the sound of the beat was distant and muffled, like it was out of reach, but in reality, was so close.
Kiku blinked, his thoughts clearing and leaving as reality made its way back in. He had been staring down at his tea for the longest time, the whole time. It had gone cold by now and was no longer something he wanted to drink. He set the tea cup aside and looked at his laptop screen. It hadn't changed; the same paragraphs were still there, the same dialogue, the same unfinished sentence, and the cursor still blinked in the same spot.
"The beat of his heart sounded like…"
Kiku sighed, annoyed by the sudden block that set in his mind. He needed a way to describe the sound of a heart without sounding cliché and being uncreative. He wanted it to be unique, something interesting and that made you think really hard about in order to understand it, maybe even so unique and profound that teachers would take this book and have their students read it and analyze that very description; he wanted to be remembered by that phrase like Shakespeare was remembered by the famous quote "To be or not to be?"
The last desire he admitted was a bit exaggerated, but it was still something he wouldn't mind happening. This was his dream; to become this profound and famous writer, to be remembered as the greatest writer of all time, to be as renowned as J.K. Rowling and as famous as Stephanie Meyer, even if her work wasn't the best. Some writers got their fame because of a great book, and some got their fame because of a horrible book; there were haters and fans all over and it was because of them that all these authors became the well-known people that they were now. Kiku only wished he could be something like them; showered with an equal amount of fans and haters. That's what a true, successful author had.
His ears perked when he heard the creak of the wood floor in the hall cry out, socked feet padding slowly down it and entering into the room he sat in. He smiled at Herakles in greeting, doing his best to hold back the giggle that wanted to bubble out when he saw his bed hair. The man smiled back drowsily and came up behind him where he sat in his chair, wrapping his arms around him and the chair, nuzzling his neck. He looked at Kiku, nudged his head to the computer and looked at him with a questioning look, raising an eyebrow. Kiku smiled and looked back at the computer.
"I'm writing my last chapter." Kiku answered. Herakles glanced at the clock on the desk; Kiku followed his gaze.
"I know it's late, but I woke up with this sudden idea for it. I couldn't pass it up." He replied with a sheepish smile.
Herakles looked at the screen, his eyes skimmed over the words that showed on the twenty-seventh page; they stopped when they reached the end in which Kiku had stopped writing. He looked at Kiku with a look that read as "Well?" Kiku shook his head slightly.
"I don't know what to write next. I can't write this scene right." He sighed. "I can't describe the sound right."
Herakles looked back at the screen, reading the broken, unfinished sentence over and over, and thinking to himself. Kiku watched him from the corner of his eyes with interest, wondering what was going on in that clever mind of his. Were his thoughts loud and talkative with their voices, unlike Hera? Kiku wished he could read minds, especially Hera's. Because he didn't speak, he had always wondered what he sounded like. It was a selfish thought he admitted, and he shouldn't wish for such things; Herakles was perfect, with or without voice. But Kiku couldn't help himself from wondering, couldn't stop himself from pondering about it. He often imagined that if he could read and hear thoughts that Hera's thoughts would be talking with the voice he used to have.
Kiku squeaked slightly, his thoughts broken abruptly, as he was rolled away from his laptop. He glanced at Herakles with a surprised look and saw him kneel down in front of the laptop, settling his fingers in the rightful spots upon the lettered keys. He heard the soft taps of the keys being pressed, the movement slow and steady, not in any rush. Kiku watched from the spot he was wheeled over to, squinting to read any glimpse of words, but couldn't because Hera's large torso blocked the screen. So he waited quietly and patiently, making no movement to wheel himself back, glancing at the clock every now and then.
A few minutes had passed and finally Herakles stood up and grabbed Kiku's chair by its arm, rolling him back to where he previously was. Kiku saw the large block of text on his screen; he grimaced slightly that the lack of spacing and indentation, but he chided himself mentally for judging before reading. He picked up his reading glasses and put them on, moving his chair a little closer and resting his arms on the space of desk that was free. He leaned in and let his eyes roam.
"The beat of his heart sounded like a poem being read by someone who held power and dignity and so much pride for the words he had written and now rolled off his tongue. But when she placed her hand on his chest, she noticed that the beat quickened for a moment and then mellowed down into something new. It now sounded like a song. A wonderful song meant for lovers such as them. She listened to it intently, deciphering exactly what his heart was singing to her. She smiled and nodded every now and then, as if she understood what it was saying. She laughed quietly at one beat, she felt the corners of her mouth sag at another, and felt her own heart lurch at a certain beat. She glanced down at her chest, realizing now that her heart was beating wildly and fast; it always did when she was around him. She smiled sheepishly and tried to calm it down, tried to teach it the song that her lover's heart had sang to her. She frowned slightly and became annoyed when it couldn't slow down or even get it right, but she rolled her eyes and closed them, curling herself close to the side of her partner, her ear still pressed to his chest. She had all the time in the world to teach her heart the beat of lovers. Maybe the man that she loved most could help if she asked, but she chuckled at the silly idea. He would never understand what she meant because she was a girl that thought about simple things too much."
Kiku couldn't remember when the tears began to stream down his cheeks, but he couldn't even try to care or try to wipe them away out of shame and embarrassment. He read that block of text over and over, smiling at points and chuckling at others. He looked at Herakles with a sweet smile, his eyes gleaming. He reached out and took his hand in his own; he had grabbed the left one, on account of the gold band he saw on his ring finger. Herakles watched him curiously as Kiku stroked it once, then let go of his hand.
"Can…can I use this? It's absolutely perfect." Kiku asked, his voice soft and barely audible. Herakles smiled slightly and nodded. He yawned softly and then nudged his head toward the hall. Kiku nodded and got up from his chair, taking his glasses off and setting them on the desk.
"Yes, we can go to bed now." Hera walked passed Kiku, his feet padding against the wooden floor, making his way back to the bedroom.
Kiku stretched slightly and reached over to his desk lamp to turn it off. He looked at his laptop one last time, rereading that paragraph again. He smiled as he entered a few times and typed "The End" on the page. He then opened a new document, titling it as "Thank You's" and typed in one last thing before he closed the laptop and made his way out of the little office and into the bedroom where Hera waited for him.
I couldn't finish this book without the help of my Husband. He wrote the last paragraph for me and I feel it ends the story just perfectly. His thoughts are wonderful and talkative little things. He's a man of little to no words, but also a man of simple thoughts that he thinks about too much.