French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Epilogue: -Gyeong-Wan- A Neighborhood Story

Holding his dear hand. We'd just come in from the summer air, the hotel's rooftop full of plants and flowers drinking in the June sun. There'd been rain recently, so now the roof was full of colors. Small garden boxes belonging to the residents here were full of ruby red tomatoes and long stalks belonging to potatoes, hidden under their pieces of secluded earth. The fresh smells of the roof had to be all over our clothes. It was our favorite place. We'd gone there today to cut some fresh cat grass from a plant being grown by our neighbor, the fire dancer who lived in the suite across from us. We ended up just enjoying the roof. Seeing how the vegetables were growing, the warm summer sun. We'd come back empty handed, but oh how much I had. He was enough. 

When we were on the roof, I'd told him I'd had a surprise for him at French Cup. Because, you see, it wasn't an ordinary day. It was the most special day of the year.

"Is it my birthday present?" he asked eagerly now, as we walked through a hallway of the hotel. 

"Yes, it is," I grinned, unable to contain myself.

He jumped as we walked, and I laughed at how cute he is. "Is it chocolate?" he asked. "You just made that new one. I never would have thought to cover peanut brittle in white chocolate. I thought it'd be too sweet, but you made it right. Is it that? You saw how much I like it!"

I chuckled behind my knuckle. "Maybe it's chocolate."

"Yes, yes, yes!" He was absolutely wiggling now. "When did you do it? Did you go over there when I was sleeping?"

He was too adorable, wearing his sky blue beret today. I was wearing a matching tank top, with a pattern of clouds on it. It all reminded me of the sky we'd just seen together. We were able to enjoy that sky, because I'd insisted long ago that we take one day off per week together. It had been a hard choice which one, and he'd listed all the reasons why each day was important. I'd had to gently put my foot down, and declared that we'd be off Mondays. He'd been scandalized, saying that was the most important day of all. 

I hate Mondays, I'd said. And he couldn't argue with that. All the Mondays I'd seen, working at the old hotel, the Modern. Not working any Mondays anymore, ever, was my reward. And his, too. There was no way to describe my joy at seeing him sleep in on Mondays. It had taken a long time for him to get that way. He always jumped up in bed at exactly 4AM, so ready to go bake even before the alarm went off. His body was just tuned to that time. But, I'd rub his belly. He'd relax down into the bed again, cuddling to me. My arm would go around him, and soon he'd be asleep again, protected in my arms. 

Only, we'd be woken again at 5AM by Kuro, his loud meowings demanding his breakfast. He'd jump up on us and I'd stare up at the ceiling, but then start laughing. He'd come up onto my chest, glowering into my face if I didn't do anything. There was no doubt about it: I'd become his favorite in these last six months, because I was the one with the food. He knew exactly where to get it.

Soon enough, we walked by the little gallery on the tenth floor. Kazuya stopped me, pulling me toward the entrance. It was roped off today, something interesting going on inside. He was waving even before we entered. We stepped aside along the rope, going around it. Inside, we were in for a treat. 

Nikki was standing there, his hands on his hips as he examined an enormous new painting on the wall rimmed in a fancy gold frame. The painting was red, a powerful fire. The more I looked at it, the more emotions it stirred inside of me. Someone had put all of themselves into this. I had Nikki to thank for this kind of introspection with paintings. He got so passionate about it, and I'd gone on the gallery tour in here many times as he led people around. All of the paintings were made by the locals, including this one. Some of his own paintings were in here, too.