My apartment's kitchen smelled like chocolate. Needing to do something with my hands. Busying them, needing to do it. He'd left a while ago, saying he needed to go back to the hotel. His obligations, but there were so many things he didn't know. That I didn't get to say. If he'd stayed, I'd have said them, but I was out of control. Trying to make him think he'd calmed me, but there was no calming me.

The cupcakes were rising in their neat pan in the oven. These cakes I was planning to bring to him in the morning, before he had to go to work. That awful hotel. Where those boys and their mom were staying. I'd suspected they were staying there when I'd met them, but now it was confirmed and it was them... They'd done this. 

It was those same boys. Gone were their shy smiles at me. The little boy's expression of surprise and delight when he came out of the bathroom, vanished. Their mother's sympathy making tale about their home, having to be here due to their father working, erased. 

All I saw were both of them outside. Holding that device somehow whole, plotting together. Impossible, but there they were, those same two boys. How they must have looked just before they threw it into French Cup. Before they ruined our lives.

Had she mentioned how old they were? I didn't catch that. But, the younger one had been pretty small and I'm not that tall. How had he been involved? That little boy? Doing this... 

From what Gyeong-Wan had said, it was a hate crime. There was no other way about it. Wanting to hate them, but their hate had gotten us here. Unable to realize, to understand that they were involved with hate. Unable to wrap my mind around that concept, connect the dots between those two boys and them holding the device all wrapped up and ready to go. Them lighting it and opening the door. Throwing it inside.

There couldn't have been anyone helping them. Not that day. Gyeong-Wan would have mentioned a third person. Maybe there was a third person involved, but I- even just this first scenario seemed impossible and yet it happened. It happened, and I-

Blankness descended. Just like it had after my initial freakout. A silence. I'd held Gyeong-Wan's sweater and he was patient with me. He hadn't said anything else, but everything had been said. I don't know how long we stayed there together like that, but I couldn't process it. Those awful things he'd said.

Now it was coming in waves. Super intense feelings, and then that dark blankness. My brain shutting down, like a machine that had overheated. 

The kitchen was becoming overwhelmed with the smell of chocolate cake. Reminding me so much of French Cup. Those early mornings, when it was just me and my raw ingredients. Wondering what I should make, to delight everyone that day. Will it be a baba au rhum for Ayane? Would I make too many almond croissants so that I could give the extras, oops my mistake, to Yuko?

Yuko... I still didn't know what had happened to Yuko and I was too scared to ask. To go look. If this was what it was like before I knew she was dead, I wanted it to last forever. This blissful ignorance, but I wasn't blissful. 

Those two boys. They had no idea. Yuko might be dead, and then they'd be murderers. 

Murderers for what? Because we had a rainbow flag over our entrance? Was that enough? Was that all it took? To kill somebody, just because there were rainbow colors floating in the wind?

My throat choked. Trying to swallow it down, but it was coming. This same reaction I'd had, overflowing. 

Somewhere in it, my oven dinged. The cakes were all done, just like I'd done every day for over ten years. Every day, my continuous mission to make everyone happy. Just trying to spread joy, making people feel better and whole. I knew why I did that. Worried about everyone. Almost everyone who came into French Cup was LGBTQ, part of our community. Older people, younger people. People I didn't know. They let you know in their own ways, being part of the community you could often tell. These little cues. How comfortable they were there, letting their hair down sometimes not even figuratively. How relaxed they were, to be in a common and inviting space. A welcoming, loving space. They were family. 

And now.

My oven gloves came on, and I bent down to take the cakes out of the oven. Automatic, so ingrained in me that I didn't know what else to do. The door opened almost by itself, and I slid the tray out. Placing it on the stove. Closing the door. Standing there with my mouth half open, staring down at the perfect little cakes. These almost cheerful little cakes. Waiting for someone to eat them and be happy.

These little boys who I'd made happy by giving them my tarts. Their mother, whom I'd comforted with what little I'd had at that late hour. Scrambling for them, trying my best. Welcoming them, like they were family. Just like they were anyone else who entered French Cup, needing comfort and a sanctuary.

Those same little boys. They'd went there again. They destroyed it. They'd burned a woman, and she'd never be the same again. Yuko... They might have killed Yuko. She might already be dead. They might have murdered-!

The crash in my apartment made me jump. Breathing harshly, cowered over, my arms spread apart. Staring over at my living room, what I'd done. 

Laid against my coffee table was my half empty tray. Some of the cupcakes were strewn about, laid on my carpet and wood floor wherever they'd landed. 

I breathed even more harshly, seeing that I'd thrown these cakes in my anger. Part of this initial anger that I'd felt, when Gyeong-Wan had told me. New anger. My mouth became more open as it filled me. Seeing what I remembered of those boys' faces. The smile of the young one, upon seeing the free tarts that I'd lovingly prepared. The chocolate milk that I'd scrambled to make. How neatly they'd piled their glasses and plates on the counter afterward.

Two water glasses ripped from my cupboard and smashed against my door. Another one followed and shattered against my kitchen island, sliding onto the floor and shattering more, the tiny pieces going everywhere.

Rage ripped out, a voice unlike my own. Unrecognizable. Like a bloody thing, coming out of my body. Grabbing my cookbooks off the rack next to the stove. Throwing them wherever they fell. 

Those boys. They'd destroyed my life. They'd destroyed all of our lives. And for what? What was their purpose? What could they possibly have wanted in the end?

Screaming. Slamming my cabinets over and over. This raw energy, needing to do something. Anything. 

Those two little boys. Wanting something to happen to them, but I couldn't be as cruel as them. 

More water glasses came flying. Smashing, one landing on my couch and not being harmed. Another ripping scream. Holding my face. My back bending. 

I couldn't be as cruel as those boys. I didn't want them to be hurt. I didn't want to harm them. They were little boys. And yet, they'd harmed us in unimaginable ways. Would they ever know? Would anyone ever tell them? Did they even care? Would they grow into adults-

Another glass was in my hand as the lock on my door wrenched violently. A sob came out as I cowered, my hands over my head. Crying out at it, a whirlwind of fear. Backing into my counter, trying to get small. 

The door flew as it banged inside and someone did, too. 

"What the fuck?! What the FUCK?!"

"No, Nikki, no..."

"Oh my god, Kazu... What... What happened?!"

"Nikki... Nikki..."

Glass cracked under his slip-on shoes as he observed the scene. As I saw it for the first time, too. Trying to hide myself, but I was exposed. The glass everywhere. The cakes all over my floor. My books everywhere. How I'd destroyed my own apartment in my rage, these feelings that I didn't know how to get out. 

"Oh my god, Kazu... What did you do?" Gentle now. Like one would to a kitten on the side of the road. Approaching me, just like that. 

"Nikki, I'm sorry, I don't know what I-"

"Give me that cup."

"No, I don't need to-"

"Give it to me."

I swallowed hard as its coldness left my hand. He held it like it was a precious thing. Staring at it and seeing the room again, sighing deeply and with a sadness. A sadness... I'd made him sad. All I'd ever wanted to do in my life was make people happy. Make them feel needed and whole. Loved. Now, look what I'd done.

"I heard you, you know. You live right below me. I thought you were being attacked."

"I'm sorry... I'm- I'm sorry..." Unable to even cry. Caught, but not embarrassed, but still feeling like I had my pants down. Standing here, like a child. But, even children weren't innocent. Those boys...

My lips went into my mouth. Staring at the floor, the glass. The thud of the cup landed on my kitchen island. His crunching footsteps. Overwhelmingly, his warmth. His arms around me. 

"It's okay. I know it's not okay, but it's okay. Alright? I'm here. I'm going to clean this up. Don't worry about it."

"Nikki, I'm sorry..."

"No way. Don't say sorry. I get it."

"No..."

"Shhh."

"Nikki..."

Unable to cry. Holding him, that blankness descending again. That nothingness. The angry wave gone, and being left with nothing.

I had nothing, and I didn't know how to cope.