French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 99: -Gyeong-Wan- Have You Tried Ruby Chocolate?

What was I supposed to do in the meantime? That was the question. The sky was a clear one, and I let Kazuya lead me to his apartment as I stared up at the stars. They were numerous, pinpricks in the sky. We were far from the metro, less light pollution. I kind of wanted to stay out here with him and gaze up at them. What else was there to do? Now that I had decided... 

But, what had I decided? I'd had some hours to think after writing my letter. Going back and forth. Knowing that this letter could spell my doom. Trying to make a plan if it did. I didn't know the outcome to that letter, and I'd have to work at the Modern until I did. Or even after I did. I didn't have any certainty that I'd be fired over this. My father was high up in the company, so maybe that would be a factor. But, if he found out about it... That was something I hadn't considered in my rash decision. 

Would my father see that letter? I'd said everything in there. My opinions about the guests and where they come from. This neighborhood and all the wonders in it. Being gay and identifying with the residents and therefore seeing where they were coming from. Having explored the area as myself and wanting to save this place. Would my father see it all? Had I outed myself without even realizing?

But as I felt Kazuya's hand in mine, the fear lessened a little. He was guiding the way, just like he always did. Maybe I wasn't so alone as I thought. And there was French Cup... He'd said he'd train me to be a chocolatier. I couldn't wrap my head around that. The suddenness of it. What that meant. For me, as a person, what that meant. As I saw chocolate in my head, melted and dripping down from a spoon in a bowl, whatever it was I could be doing with that, there was only calm. This different path. No more wearing suits. No more taking orders from someone higher up. No more having to wear a face.

Having a face. I always hated having to put one on. Listening to others with a mask on my real opinions. Yes, sir. No, sir. Doing what they said. This whole time I'd been here, they'd shown me a different path. And now, here was another. A way to break off from the path that had been chosen for me. 

I loved chocolate. The smell, how it feels when its melted between my fingers. The taste, of course. So many things you could do with the taste. It was endless, limitless. All those different kinds of chocolates. Things from famous brands, but also the uninvented. What possibilities were there? And to think he'd be there with it all. Admiring what I put together. Making it together. 

As he led me to his door, I thought about poking the tip of his cute nose with melted chocolate from my finger. Seeing his reaction. What would be his reaction? I wanted to see it. Playing together. Helping him bake, taking things out of the oven. Arranging things on the racks, wrapping them, learning how to decorate. It was endless. All these possibilities. This freedom. And we'd already had a taste of it. I'd gone there to help him before. I already knew what it felt like.

His key bit into the lock as I was lost with abandon. I'd get to watch him every day create the most beautiful bakes. Croissants, cakes, tarts, everything. Maybe I could learn it, too. Help him even more. Then, it wouldn't be all on him anymore. He could relax, maybe even get more sleep. He needed more sleep.

He led me into his apartment as I thought dreamily. All this weight lifted even in a few minutes. To think, it could be forever. Working there with him. How would it change me? Every day, I was so worried about what my superiors would think. Pleasing them, making deadlines. But, even the customers at French Cup were different than the people I usually saw. These were people that I actually wanted to have conversations with. Learn about their lives and relationships. I was so interested, that I wanted to see them again and again. Could I be seeing them endlessly? Maybe some every day? 

And Kazuya... I could see him every day. Every morning. There were no days off, and I'd never want a day off. It wouldn't even be...work. Would I know the word? I could never call being near him work. Helping him, making sure he was okay. That could never be work. I'd never work another day in my-