Absinthe

Chapter 22: Boy-Friends

"Look!" I said, showing Jiwoo and the vendor the screen. "It unlocked using my Face ID!"

The vendor smiled at me and slowly turned to Jiwoo, who was frowning. Without a moment's notice, he

bolted, leaving my phone behind. Within seconds, Jiwoo was a blur of white, running after him.

I didn't know what made me do it, but my feet started running on their own, as if afraid to get left

behind. I ran and ran, trying to catch up to Jiwoo, bumping against pedestrians and sellers alike. I ran

until my sides felt like they were being ripped apart, and my heart pounded like there was no tomorrow.

When I stopped, I bent over with my hands on my knees, trying my best to catch my breath and

stabilize my heartbeat. My glasses and entire face were covered in sweat. I removed my specs and

wiped them using the back of my now considerably wet shirt. My heart skipped a beat when I realized

where I was the moment I slipped my glasses back on.

I was at the darker side of the district, that small stretch of dimly lit alleys right in the middle of Quiapo

and Recto. The sky was blocked out by dilapidated tarpaulins and banners and crisscrossing balconies Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

from the floors above. The alleys were filled with shabby-looking doors and an array of mostly murky

liquids in glass jars of various sizes.

"Looking for something?"

I jumped, startled at the sound of a scary, pitchy female voice. I involuntarily made the sign of the cross

even though it had been years since I'd given up on my salvation through Christianity.

"Relax," the vendor said, laughing. "Come. I'm sure I can get you something." She dragged me by the

hand over to her stall and presented me with the products she had. There was an assortment of herbal

medicine for diseases that don't have an FDA-approved cure—diabetes, all sorts of cancer, AIDS, and

even Alzheimer's.

"Who's sick? Your father?"

"No," I answered, still out of breath. "I'm just lost."

"Nobody comes here lost," she answered back, smiling. I noticed that she had lost her canines, both

left and right.

She then showed me a much darker collection of bottled liquids. "Maybe you'll find something you need

from here."

I spotted a bottle with a deep purple liquid and whose label was Evil Spirits (Possession). The bottle

right in front of me read Heartache. It was blood red, and it looked like congealed tomato paste.

"Ahh, that one's a treasure for those who were cheated on or left behind." She grabbed the bottle and

placed it in my hand. "A tablespoon a day from one full moon to the next, and all your heartaches will

be—" With her hand, she mimed the act of something disappearing into thin air.

"Whoa..." I said, mesmerized by the idea. Good thing the logical part of my brain activated at once,

allowing me to say, "Sorry, but I don't think I need this." I placed the bottle back on the shelf.

"Why? No girlfriend?" the vendor asked bluntly.

"More or less," I replied.

"Then maybe this will help!" She grabbed a rather small bottle, the liquid inside it pitch black and rich

like the ink from a pen.

I read the label, and it said Gayuma.

"Just a tiny drop will make anyone you want fall hopelessly in love with you!" the vendor explained, her

hands clasped together in a failed attempt to look cute.

"He doesn't need that anymore. He already has me."

I turned around to find Jiwoo looking disheveled from all the running but still more handsome than he

had any right to be. His shirt was also sweaty, and parts of it stuck to his body. I saw the vendor

absentmindedly licking her lower lip at the slightly visible lines on Jiwoo's torso. I realized I was doing

the exact same thing, but thank heavens I stopped myself before Jiwoo noticed anything.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" he said, taking out his handkerchief to wipe the traces of sweat

on my forehead and neck. "I got scared for a second."

"Oh, you guys are gay!" cried the vendor. "What a waste! You're both so good-looking!"

Jiwoo grinned at her. "Sorry, ate. Love wins, after all." Then he winked at her.1

I knew the wink wasn't meant for me, but I still melted inside.

The lady vendor rummaged through her wares and took out two matching necklaces with flattened

metal donuts for pendants. "Here. These are among my most powerful charms. They will fend off

anyone trying to meddle with your relationship!"

Jiwoo cackled. I don't remember how I reacted, but I'm quite sure I was beyond perplexed.

"God, when will you give me a boyfriend as handsome as either of these two?" the vendor asked no

one, her hands and eyes toward the heavens.

"I guess you're the one who needs the love potion, not us," Jiwoo said, laughing.

"Hey, stop jinxing my wares! Go now and be a happy couple. If you stay longer, I'll make you drink a

love potion and make you madly in love with me!"

Jiwoo laughed harder and dragged me away. His steps were long, and his pace was fast. I had to jog in

order to keep up with him. At the end of the dark alley, we exited to the sunny streets of Recto, and just

across the main road we could see Easy-Tan Mall where Jiwoo had planned to buy me a phone.

"I guess we don't need to get a replacement now," I told Jiwoo while showing him the phone that had

been left behind earlier when the seller ran away. "What happened? I tried to catch up with you."

"That bastard was fast. I didn't even stand a chance." He ruffled my hair. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "It's not your fault."

"Still."

"Let's just get something to eat. I'm famished."

Jiwoo nodded and took my hand once again as we crossed the street. We passed by rows and rows of

small bookstores and photocopiers, printing shops and photography studios along what appeared to be

the part of the district specializing in school-related products and services. A few more meters into the

alley and we were greeted by a series of shops displaying diplomas from all schools imaginable. The

vendors were all shouting and advertising their printing services for fake certificates, transcripts of

records, and other documents to anyone willing to pay their relatively cheap prices.

Before I knew it, we were standing in front of Easy-Tan Mall. Jiwoo stopped and allowed me to catch

my breath. Why was I running out of stamina just following him around? It must have been the chase

earlier that had robbed me of energy. I made a mental note to join the gym in my building and at least

try to develop my endurance. I had not expected to be this tired within a day of shopping in Manila.

But when I thought about it, the whole thing made sense. I'd wasted almost a decade ruining my liver

with bottles and bottles of alcohol and kissing the asses of potential business partners, all in an effort to

make more money for Samsong Group.

"Earth to BJ, Earth to BJ. Hello?" Jiwoo was waving his big, veiny hand inches from my face. "Are you

alright?"

I lightly slapped his hand away from my face and mouthed water.

Jiwoo ruffled my hair again before nudging me to get in line for the security check. It was uncomfortable

getting frisked by a total stranger. Add to that the fact that I was sweaty and dirty from walking around

the streets for several hours.

The security guard doing the frisking was so not my type. The overall experience of getting your body

touched here and there in search of hidden firearms and weapons is never pleasant. Maybe I would

have enjoyed it better if Jiwoo had been the one patting me down.

Fuck. Did I say that out loud?

"Where do you want to eat?" Jiwoo asked.

Phew. Those embarrassing words were only in my head. I think it wouldn't be a bad idea to enroll

myself in a meditation class and learn to control my libido.

"It's been ages since I last ate at Jollibee," I said.

"Then the happy bee it is!" announced Jiwoo, smiling as he walked away from me and still carrying the

shopping bags from earlier with his left hand. I could see both men and women, young and old, turn

their heads for Jiwoo. Some people were even blatantly staring at him, their mouths partially open in

awe.

Starstruck.

That was the word I had been looking for to describe how I'd felt when I first saw Jiwoo at the Hilton

Hotel. I remembered being with Derrick at that time, and Jiwoo expertly explained Derrick's dish and

completely ignored mine. Back then, Derrick had accused me of targeting hotel waiters and bar

servers. Back then, I had been with JM. Back then, I had already been attracted to Jiwoo. But whatever

desire I had felt and still felt for Jiwoo would have to be thrown down the drain because we were

boyfriends now—boys who are friends.

"Here," Jiwoo said, returning to the table with two full food trays. "I ordered one of each of their

specialties. I figured you haven't had any of these in a long time."

Jiwoo started to transfer the food from the trays to the table. He got us an order of palabok, a Filipino

noodle dish dressed in a thick, yellowish-orange shrimp sauce topped with crushed chicharon, sliced

eggs, and shrimps.

There was an order of Jollibee's famous Pinoy-style spaghetti as well with its iconic slanting slices of

red hotdogs and a generous topping of thinly chopped cheddar cheese.

I didn't really fancy the dish, but Jiwoo bought an order of Jollibee's somewhat monochromatic but

nonetheless savory two-piece burger steak with sliced button mushrooms and a side of steamed rice.

He also got a la carte orders of Jollibee's side dishes: buttered corn, mashed potatoes with gravy, and

a small bowl of creamy macaroni soup.

Apart from those there was a big cup of Coke topped with vanilla ice cream and some chocolate fudge;

a single serving of Jollibee's famous peach mango pie; and of course, two pieces of Chickenjoy,

Jollibee's version of fried chicken they claim to be delicious enough to bring genuine joy with every bite.

"So which one's mine?" I asked Jiwoo eagerly.

"What do you mean? We're sharing everything," he answered with a wide grin as he unwrapped the

plastic utensils covered in tissue. He then proceeded to cut the burger steak patties into smaller square

pieces.

"Open up," he said, lifting the beef patty toward my mouth using a fork.

"I can eat by myself!" I protested.

"Yeah, but this is what boyfriends do, right? C'mon, open up!"