Absinthe novel Chapter 55

I savored the last spoonful of Sizzling Plate's distinct yellow rice mixed with their sisig. I could taste the sharp tanginess brought about by the splash of calamansi, the sweetness of perfectly wilted onions, and that distinct and heavenly taste of properly sautéed pork.

I closed my eyes as I swallowed it, still unable to believe that I waited 9 months before finally ordering a Filipino dish I so loved! Curse Maxwell and our gourmet food creations! Filipino Pork Sisig beats any of those, any given day!

Then there was that familiar snap of a camera shot.

I opened my eyes and found Jiwoo, busy typing a caption for another IG post, this time, with just my face on.

I launched the app on my phone once again, went to @g_whooo's page and saw the post.

I'll cook nothing but the best food just to see this face, every day for the rest of my life.

I wasn't tagged in the photo. Nor was my name mentioned in his post. But my IG handle kept popping in the comments section as people expressed how envious they are that I won their sweetheart's affection.

I couldn't bring myself to read what hideous comments Jiwoo's fans and admirers would have put there. They're probably saying that someone like me doesn't deserve Jiwoo. That I'm only using my money to seduce him.

That it's better off for the planet that I allow Jiwoo to spread his genes far and wide.

People can be fucked up and cruel. Or rather, people are that much fucked up and cruel, most of the time.

"Look at this," Jiwoo said, tapping my shoulder. "I don't get it. This person commented with a picture of a drug."

"I don't get it," I told Jiwoo as soon as I saw it.

"That means XANAOL," said a familiar effeminate voice.

Jiwoo and I turned to see the very same gay comedian who hosted the selection event for Chef Maxwell's classes.

"Oh, I get it!" Jiwoo said before he burst out laughing.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The name of the drug sounds like SANA ALL," Vanilla explained. "You know, that's pretty much the in slang of today's youth."

"SANA ALL?" I asked. "Like they wish the same for everyone?"

"Exactly!" Vanilla commented. "The person who posted that comment simply meant he wishes everyone had the same hot boyfriend."

"Look, Vanilla," Jiwoo said. "BJ's blushing that someone finds him hot."

"Yes, BJ! I feel the same way!" Vanilla said excitedly. "SANA ALL! I hope all of us have hot boyfriends the way you and Jiwoo have each other!"

"I doubt that," I answered back, "You guys are overvaluing my looks. I think the commenter simply meant they wish they had a hot boyfriend like Jiwoo. They're commenting on Jiwoo's post, after all."

"I'm not going to argue with you." Vanilla said, obviously annoyed. "Believe what you want to believe. It's so fucking annoying when someone really cute acts like he's not aware of it! So pretentious!"

Jiwoo had to literally push my jaw back in place as I was left aghast by that insult from Vanilla. And I couldn't do anything but watch his hips sway as he catwalked from us towards the food court's exit.

"The guy who posted that comment," Jiwoo started. "I checked his profile. "He says he's a top and is into twinks."

"I'm not a twink!" I said indignantly.

"Yes, you are." Jiwoo said. "You're cute and you're small and your skin is smooth and your legs are hairless and shapely and..."

Jiwoo stopped speaking abruptly and closed his eyes. "Fuck, I got hard just thinking about your legs."

I slapped Jiwoo's shoulder and laughed. "Stop joking, you pervert!"

Jiwoo's eyes remained close and his facial expression was that of someone concentrating hard on solving a particularly difficult calculus problem.

"Don't touch me, I might not be able to stop myself."

Jiwoo's eyes widened again in genuine curiosity, his grip on my shoulders getting tighter.

"People tend to think of the worst," she began. "if your spouse forgets your birthday, it's easy to assume that the love is no longer there, or worst, he has someone else."

Jiwoo's eyes were fixed on the old lady's own, milky brown ones.

"Or if your spouse failed to kiss you goodnight, or return your call, or ask you about how your day was... it's easy for the other to assume the worst," the elder lady gave both Jiwoo and I a weak smile before she continued. "I guess my advice is don't assume the worst – ask instead. Ask. Talk. Touch. Nobody's perfect and your spouse will never be perfect. There will be times you'd feel like you're not loved anymore. Ask. Ask and hear the words out."

"That's great advice, grandma." Jiwoo said. "My boyfriend here always thinks he's not cute enough for me. He should follow your advice and ask me every day how handsome I think he is, right?"

Grandma laughs heartily and reaches out to touch Jiwoo's cheeks. I wanted to tell her that Jiwoo, too, always thinks he's not buying me enough fancy things, but I decided to leave that out for now.

I noticed that grandma was suddenly crying. I looked over to see that her husband, too, was sobbing hard, mouth open in an effort to breathe more, hands in his chest.

"Lolo, are you okay?" I said, breaking the silence.

The elderly man nods but cries even harder, grasping at his chest more frantically.

"It's our fault," the elderly lady said. "It's our fault our son left us."

Lolo and lola's faces were wet with tears and contorted with grief. Lola was now holding lolo's arms, trying to stop him from beating the shit out of his chest.

"We couldn't accept him," the elderly lady stuttered heavily. "We threw him out of the house when he told us he was gay."

"Samuel!" screamed the elderly man, still clutching his chest heavily, barely able to breathe through all those sobs.

"We miss him so much," lola said. "We thought it was wrong. We thought people like you were wrong. Forgive us. Forgive us, please! Forgive us!"

"We're sorry, Samuel," the grandpa said, reaching out for Jiwoo's face. "Forgive us, Samuel."