French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 27: -Gyeong-Wan- My Own Funeral

In the late evening, the moon was out over the horizon, but unseen. Dark clouds were obscuring the stars again, but this time there was a crisp chill in the air. Stirrings of wind were swirling high to the sky, bringing old autumn leaves with them, then laying them down again. 

Across the street, French Cup was aglow. The Christmas lights were cheerful, blinking like they were winks. The light inside was golden, warm. I sat on the bench in the small park, my hands in gloves and my scarf wrapped tight. I was waiting for him. 

Earlier in the day, we'd enjoyed hot chocolate together. I'd had two cups of spicy hot chocolate, and he'd explained to me that it was a Mexican recipe. He'd heard of it when he was kid, and it had stuck with him, fascinating him. He'd said it was one of the millions of reasons why he was into sweets in general. I'd stayed there, absorbed in him, as he told me about his passions. He told me that he wished to create, make new things and introduce them to others. In that way, he said, he was an artist. I fully believed him. He was an artist. A most amazing artist.

When I'd gotten back to the hotel, I'd stood in the middle of my room, thinking about him. His smile as he'd told me this. His blushing at his experiences, his unthought of hands all over the place, helping him in his descriptions. His hands telling me how much he loved sweets. These same hands which made all of them, such strong and skilled hands. As I thought about his hands, I was frozen in place. Imagining their movements, the way the fingers curled. How large, but delicate they were. I thought of them coming toward me slowly, alighting on my chest and staying there. Traveling up my skin, cupping my face. His eyes staring into mine, that unsure expression there. His eyes closing, as we got closer together, my arms going around him, and...

My own hands had turned into fists, and I found I was breathing hard. But, not out of excitement. It was something else. My own hands went to my face, covering. Trying to gain control of myself. 

Now, I was in the park. I'd wandered here, wanting to be close to him, but not knowing what to do. 

We couldn't be together. That much I knew. He seemed interested maybe. I'd read those signs, but maybe he was just really kind. From the way he treated everyone, it seemed to be the case. But, he was more interested in me than anyone else. He'd wanted to see me, too. I couldn't just be imagining it. Could I? 

And now, here I was. Trying to see him again. He might think I was creepy. But, every time we met, he always had a smile for me. 

I jumped hugely, almost falling off the bench as something large and warm collided with my pants leg. I was breathing quickly, trying to see it in the darkness. There was nothing. My hand went to my chest as it happened again. This time, it almost felt like...

My hand went out as I leaned over, searching, making clickings with my fingers. My mouth made clickings, too. Calling out to the creature. Sure enough, from under the bench came two round, yellow eyes reflected from French Cup's light. 

Slowly, a very large black cat emerged. It sniffed my fingers, then rubbed its cheek against them, so warm through my glove. It went for it again, and somehow I found myself smiling. My fingers went under its chin, scratching there. The gentle hum of purring went into my hand, radiating up my body. 

"Are you visiting your cousin?" I asked it quietly, indicating to the small, but still fresh grave that we'd all helped complete not even a week ago. It seemed so long ago now, somehow... It only purred more loudly, happy at my scratchings. It flopped down, and somehow I was grinning. My hand massaged the back of its neck. 

I was so absorbed in this, that I didn't see Kazuya come out of French Cup. Didn't see him walking over here. 

"Gyeong-Wan?"