Back at Diamond Bar, I always went to Mrs Thompson’s bakery because her goods had been the best for me. My family knows how much I love eating the strawberry cheesecake (ha, take that, blueberry lovers!) and brings me some when I feel just about anything under the sun.

On this particular day, I have the urge to buy some for myself, but knowing I’m in a different country, I don’t push my whines out loud.

Taeyeon though seems to know me too well under the three weeks I’ve stayed here, and asks right off the bat her concern for me.

“Whoa-kay then, Pany-yah, why the masked face?” Her question confuses me for a moment, my gaze holding her working hands on the ceramic bowl she’s painting on.

“What mask? I’m not wearing anything on my face,” my mega-watt smile widens, pushing my inner turmoil further inside. I shake my head fervently, letting out a soft giggle.

“Oh, see?” Taetae stops to point at me. “You’re doing it again!”

“Doing what?”

“That soft laughing. Aaaand your creepy smiling!”

Her comment causes me to frown. Creepy? My smile is creepy?

“Yes. Yes, it’s creepy.”

“Did I just say it out-”

“Yes, Pany-ah.” She singsongs. She dips her paintbrush on the small cup of water and flings it back on the color palette for a yellow. “You just did. So what’s this Ahjumma I’m hearing you think out loud for a while now?”

I huff and finally give in, “I’m just craving for this cheesecake only found at Cali. I want to eat some so badly,” I drag the ‘ly’.

“Blueberry?”

“Strawberry!”

“Huh. Figures.”

The pink princess in me grows and I smile cheekily. “Anyways, Taeyeon-ah-”

“Anyway,” she interjects.

I roll my eyes before talking, “Anyway, I’m just… craving for some of it right now.”

Taeyeon hums. “Then go eat some of it!”

“Mrs Thompson’s bakery is, like, a bajillion miles away.”

“Make it yourself then?”

“I don’t know how.”

“Then learn.”

“Ugh, Taetae, no-”

“What? I’m just saying.”

“...you don’t understa-” I cannot finish my sentence, too annoyed at her nonchalance. It feels like she’s waving off my problem right now, even though I know I’m acting too childish right now. It’s like Taetae’s older than me (like way older) and my child brain is stuck at my child body.

Before I know it, I’m gasping for air, the burn on my running legs gaining on me. I ignore ssaem’s question, I ignore the alien stares from my classmates and wipe my tears, aware of the clay streaks on my face.

I can hear Taetae’s echoes of my name far from my ears. My crying takes over my emotions, and I’m simply going “Wah!” like there’s no tomorrow.

“P-Pany-ah! Please… s-stop running… Pany… Pany, hey!”

Ignore it. Ignore them all.

I realize right there and then I’m having a serious case of being homesick. And the sickness grows as I allow the judging stares from the other kids---not only my nemesis---to crush me.

This is uncalled for. This is so uncalled for.

“Pany! Look out-”

Taetae’s warning does not stop my running, but the big pole I collide onto does, and I fall to the ground, rubbing my sore forehead.

“Pa-Pany-ah!” Hands land on my shoulders; I can feel Taetae’s breath near me. “Are you okay?!”

I don’t answer, too busy crying to my hands.

“Uh---um, please don’t cry---i-it’s okay, I-I’m here, uh---P-Pany-ah, please stop now, huh?” Something in her words worries me, and I suddenly hear not one, but two sniffling people. “P-Pany-ah, s-stop it, you’re m-m-making me c-c-cry too-”

I instantly open my eyes and curl my arms around Taeyeon, shaking my head. “And why are you crying now?!”

Taetae’s body is shaking just like mine. “Because you are?!”

“W-Why are we shouting?!”

“Because we’re kids!” Taetae’s answer befuddles me. “We’re young, crazy, childish brats and we just feel like shouting like babies!”

Her smart words gets to me and in a way, I calm down. I pull away and look at Taeyeon who’s looking back at me. Or my forehead.

And then I don’t know why, but we begin laughing. We’re covering our bright smiles, pointing at each other’s icky faces and commenting how low our snots were hanging and we’re just… we’re laughing.

“T-Taetae… what… is happening?” I manage to huff between our loud snickering.

“I-I… don’t know, Pany-ah… I don’t know… hahahaha!” She leans back onto me, stopping her wild “Heehee”. When she gets up smiling, her pretty face twists to frown. “Your forehead is really, really red.”

My hands reach for it and I wince, only feeling the numb aftermath of my headbutt. I look at the big electrical pole and pout, “Stupid pole,” I mutter.

“Poles don’t cry over strawberry cheesecakes or whine while running across the street.”

“...”

“This is where you say ‘Touché’, Pany-ah.”

“What?”

“It’s when someone wins over an argument, or like, there’s a witty point she’s… oh forget it.” Taetae waves her hand. “A-Anyway, we need to get you treated.”

I remember one of my mom’s method and pull Taeyeon’s arm to me. “There’s this thing my mom does whenever I’m hurt.”

“What is it?”

“She calls it a ‘oo kiss’.”

Taetae’s curiosity surprises me. “A oo kiss?”

“Yeah, a oo kiss. She kisses the hurt spot and it somehow, lightens up this, uh, ouch factor? away.”

“Hmmmmm,” Taeyeon’s long drawling hum hovers for a moment. “I… didn’t know that.”

“Really?” I smile.

“Yeah. Wanna try it?”

Taetae’s thoughtful face reminds me of my frowning doctor that fumbles over his white beard. Then I imagine Taetae’s baby face slapped over the old man’s. I laugh.

“Yah, Pany-ah what’cha thinking? I’m serious, let’s try it!”

“Go. I can’t reach my forehead with my lips, Tae, haha.”

And then I feel it. I feel a soft and warm mouth resting on the sore spot. There’s a short smooching sound before Taetae pulls away.

“So how is it?”

“It’s…” I describe the feeling, “better. It feels better.” I entertain her. Nothing really changed, but knowing someone like Taetae cares for me had cut a part of the pain. That’s how it feels. Care and affection heals the pain.

“Alright, let’s do it again!”

“What-”

Taetae’s lips are flying to my forehead again, and again, and again, and the next attempt I avoid by grabbing her cheeks, her lips as chubby as her fluffy cheeks.

“Yah Taetae you’re just playing with me right now haha!”

“But we have to kiss it better, Pany-ah! Let me---gib you---a oo kish---one mur time!”

“Ugh, fiiiiine, here-” I lower my face to her chubby lips and move away, releasing her. “-and no more! No more oo kisses!”

“... Alrighty then, you look much, much, much, much better now. Okay, so let’s go.”

“H-Huh? Taetae, the class is that way.”

“We’re not going back to class, dummy.” And she pulls me closer, skipping on her blue rubber shoes. I follow along on my pink sandals. “We’re gonna get you that strawberry cheesecake you want.”

“But it’s not here.”

“You’re gonna have something better.”

“Better?”

“Better.”

And then Taetae leads me inside a convenience store, gets a vanilla fudgie bar, some of those teensy weensy portions of jams found on the dairy section and the same portion of cream cheese.

We settle on the wooden platform outside the store after she paid the items.

“I’m gonna make it, okay? Okay.”

I watch as she rips the packaging of the fudgie bar from the middle, successfully pulling apart the inside foil so the recess rest on top of it. She pulls open the strawberry jam and cream cheese, and using a plastic knife she requested from the cashier, Taetae slathers them both over and around the fudgie bar, making it a big absolute mess of pink and white. She grabs the plastic fork, slices it and raises it to me.

“Here’s your strawberry cheesecake, Pany-ah.”

I eat it.

“So how is it?”

I get busy getting the next slice after stealing the utensils from her hands. “I love it.” I laugh. I’m teary-eyed. “Seriously, thanks Taetae.”

She nibbles on the piece I gave her along my eating. “Don’t mention it, bud.”

Over our makeshift dessert, I manage to explain Taeyeon why I ran away, the feeling of being homesick still inside me. She tells me she doesn’t understand it (I understand this), and goes on to assure me my being “pastrysick” should go away anytime now that I’ve had it.

“Pastrysick. It’s like homesick except what you miss is the pastry.”

“But isn’t cheesecake more dessert than pastry?”

“... I haven’t covered baking in my studies.”

I snort.

“Pastry, Schmastry,” Taetae waves a hand as she snorts. “Give me some slack, I’m a gamer for goodness’ sake.”

At this point, I can tell Taetae has been reading more Korean-translated English books.

Oh Taetae. I’m just grateful you’re my bestest friend.

“Best friend. There’s no bestest-”

“Whatever!”

“Whatever.”

Yep. Whatever. I’m officially done being pastrysick.

Jun's Note:

Here's a cute Taetae for y'all ♡