French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 79: -Gyeong-Wan- Yakk-wah

The New Year's breezes had been rolling in, feeling much different from yesterday. The ground was frozen solid, the bare snow of last night sticking and becoming solid on top. I'd tentatively smashed through many of these snowbanks, remembering how silly we'd been last night. Wanting to retain that child-like sense of wonder. It was far from running in the street with him, but cracking the snow tops was like a sin. Such a pleasurable one. 

That freedom. It was unparalleled. Yelling with him, making as much noise as we wanted with little regard to others. Holding him in my arms even though many people could see us from their windows. They'd think, "oh, they're just drunk, it's New Year's." Yes, we'd been drunk, but it was much more than that. Letting myself go. Doing what I wanted. It resonated with me, because it's what Seo-Yoon had told me at the airport. That I do anything I want here. That wasn't true, but it was becoming that.

In front of me, the hot oven was on. Almond cookies were baking in there, meant to be boxed later for people to take home. It seemed like something French Cup did a lot for special events. Behind me, there were adorable noises and a cooking video on. I didn't want to stare, or he might get too nervous.

"Place your yakgwa into the oil," said the dreamily wandering voice in the cooking video.

"Huhhh?" Came Kazuya's innocent response to it. "But it's not hot enough yet. Wait, wait. Ehhhh? My yakgwa?"

The way he kept saying "yakgwa" was adorable. Yah-ku-gu-wah. I turned, hearing this cuteness again. 

"It's yak-kgwah," I said, unable to help it anymore. He was making my heart melt every time. I wanted to teach him. My cheek went in my hand as I rested my elbow on the table. There would be many more batches of almond cookies that I could "monitor" for him. This I had to do. The potential...

"Huh?" He paused the video and sat on the stool opposite mine, his hands folding earnestly on the table. My other hand reached toward them, touching them preciously. I tapped them.

"Yak-kgwah," I pronounced for him, my smile curling at his innocent expression. His eyes were so big at this, his unsureness.

"Yah-ku-gu-wah," he said slowly. 

"Yakk-kgwah," I giggled. How was he this adorable? His lips went into his mouth, his eyes going impossibly bigger as he tilted his forehead toward me. 

"Yakk-wah!" He burst out loudly, grinning at me. My pose collapsed on the table, my forehead meeting the cold metal gently. I stayed there as he laughed at me. It was like an impossible alternate universe. It was with this that I knew he was playing with me. I started laughing, too, just like last night in the street. Helpless, my shoulders going up and down. "Did I say it right?" He asked. 

"No, it's-"

"Yakk-wah!" Like an army shout. 

I snorted hugely, finding small tears at the edges of my eyes in my laughter. 

"Did I do good?" He asked, using cute language. 

It was like the high we'd had last night never ended. We were still like little kids. He made cute "tee-hee" giggles and his hands left mine. "Yakk-wah, yakk-wah," he repeated over and over, knowing this new word made me laugh. His purposefully high, cute voice was too much with it. I wiped tears from my eyes as the yakgwa touched the now hot enough oil, sizzling as they most likely went to the bottom of the deep pan. 

Being playful like this with each other. I wanted it all the time. Every morning, I wanted to be here. Yesterday, when he'd said he'd left French Cup without his coat to try to find me? I knew what that meant. It was just like when I'd tripped down the stairs of the hotel last night, too in my thoughts about him to notice my steps. I'd caught myself on the railing, but my heart had been beating a million miles per hour for more than the scare of almost falling.