The snow in the late winter turned the lights at the alleyway into a warm white. He stood downstairs for a long time, and the warm drink in his palm was almost soaked by the cold. He wrapped the scarf twice around her neck, and when his fingertips brushed the tip of her ear, his voice was as soft as snow foam: "We... Are more than just friends, okay?" She bit her straw and nodded. In the mist, her heartbeat and the sound of falling snow were mixed together... The title "heartbeat" hides the residual warmth of the drinking cup and the softness of the snow.
There are no straightforward waves, only some fragments that "cannot be spoken": the warm drink of that year, the traces of snow in the late winter, the creases of the tickets on the way, and the pair of shoes in front of the cabinet of the new home. It is like an unfinished diary, recording the fragmentary moments from when the two met to staying together - those temptations hidden behind the fireworks, those stubbornness melted into the trivialities, are the truth of love.
