Absinthe

Chapter 41: Time Machine

"It is you," JM said, his curls still exactly the way I remembered them. He started approaching me.

Although I didn't see him snag a paper towel, he had one in his hand, and he used it to wipe water

droplets off my chin. Then, he moved close enough to sniff my neck.

"Excuse me," I said, pushing past him.

But JM was as fast as I remembered him to be. With one swift motion, he pulled me back by the wrist.

Our builds were pretty similar so he shouldn't have been stronger than me, but he was, and I was

stuck.

Stuck with a bitter memory of my past.

"What's the rush?" he said. I wanted to rip the smile off his face. It looked as genuine and sincere as it

did back when I had been captivated by it, and it was about to capture me again. I hated it.

"I'm with friends," I told him. "I'm supposed to meet them at—"

"That crazy bitch who totaled my car?"

"Don't call her that!"

"Why not? She is a crazy bitch."

I struggled to get his hand off of me, and thankfully, he let go. I walked as fast as I could toward the

exit, but I sensed him walking behind me.

"I tried to get back to you," JM said as we neared Starbucks. "But Faye got me a restraining order. I

know I lied about my mom. But I was able to raise the money, and now I can pay you back."

I tried my best to block out the words coming out of his mouth by thinking of other things I could focus

on. However, my thoughts kept returning to the letter JM had written me. Why had I not thrown it away?

I'd been with him for less than a month, and for the love of God, I hadn't the slightest idea why I had

fallen so hard. Though perhaps it's more appropriate to say I had crashed and burned, and I was still

burning.

"I meant every single thing I said to you," JM continued.

And just like that, I found myself reminiscing on the things we had done together, like some pathetic

schoolgirl who can't get over her first crush.

"Look at me, BJ." JM's voice sounded like he was about to break down and cry. I knew that he was

employing his above-average acting skills, and yet it took all my willpower to pretend like what I was

hearing was white noise, idle chatter from everyone else whose stories I would never care to listen to.

Soon enough, his hands were on mine. He tugged at them until we were face-to-face. His eyes were

boring into me, and there was no escape.

"Will you remember how you felt about me if we kissed?"

"JM, you have a wife and a kid!"

There was no mistaking the look of shock that registered across the bastard's face. Did he really think I

hadn't found out about it?

"You scammed me for half a million. Can you at least own up to it?"

"I don't love her," he barked back. "You're the one I love, BJ. We can take care of the baby together. I'll

provide for you. We'll be a family."

The pent-up anger inside me had nowhere else to go now. It had been waiting to spill over and make a

mess of things since last night with Jiwoo. And it was much stronger than the pain blooming in my

chest.

I laughed, or rather, roared in laughter. It was loud enough that people around us stopped and started

giggling as though infected by a virus I alone carried.

"Are you hearing yourself?"

"I'm serious."

"For fuck's sake, JM. Give me back my money, and I'll call it quits. I'll reserve some ounce of respect

for you. It was a courageous thing to do, after all. And you did it for your family, so props to you for

that."

"You don't believe me?"

"I don't. I should have seen the red flags, but I was so eager about being in love that I disregarded all of

them. C'mon, JM. If you can't repay me, keep the money, but have some decency to be truthful about

it!"

JM turned red, his lips trembling in sheer anger.

"Decency, you say?" His hands were balled into fists, as if ready to strike. "You yourself weren't so

decent when you were sucking my dick. Or when you were bent over while I was fucking you in the

ass."

I couldn't bear hearing those things from him, especially since a small crowd had gathered around us. It

was proof yet again that what he and I had had back then had been nothing. That I had been stupid

enough to believe he loved me.

I turned and attempted to walk toward Starbucks where I'd said I would meet Nico and the others. But

JM refused to back down.

"You want your money back, huh? Then give me back my cum! You were so eager when you

swallowed it. Give that back and I'll slap you hard on the face with cold, hard cash, dirty like how you

always wanted it!"

Everything spun out of control. I was beyond embarrassed for all the people who could hear JM talk Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

shit about me. My anger dissipated and turned into shame. And disappointment. And pity.

I pitied myself for having believed everything JM and I had gone through, our dates at the mall, the way

he had stolen kisses from me in the movie theater, and how he would stare at me until I almost melted

in giddiness, delighted at the absurd amount of attention he was pouring all over me. For being an idiot

who had been certain that, despite all the indications otherwise, I was worthy of genuine love.

"You think you can find someone better?" JM mocked. "I'm the best fuck you'll ever be able to afford.

You can go waste your money on callboys but I'm the best one for your money's worth."

I cried. Or at least my eyes did. I didn't feel the tears coming out—I only became aware of them when

they landed on the cemented floor I was staring at.

My knees were threatening to give out. I badly wanted to walk away, but I was afraid that a single step

would land me and my ass on the floor.

"You're not going to say anything?" JM goaded. "Tsk, faggots!"

Out of nowhere, some people started screaming. Everything went by so fast, and before I knew it, I

was clutching someone's shirt and a familiar set of arms was holding me and leading me away. I

sobbed harder, control over my body a foreign concept. My grip on the shirt tightened, and I buried my

face in the person's chest. They stroked the back of my head as well as the length of my back.

"It's okay," they kept saying, like they were hoping it would be enough to calm me down.

But I knew it was Jiwoo, and that fact made it more difficult for me to stop crying. The feel of his chest

against the side of my head was more than familiar, and his scent was exactly how I remembered it

from the previous night.

Despite his words of comfort, I could hear him telling me the exact same things JM had said. I could

hear him demanding me to cough up money for sex.

Then I heard his brother, Jeremy, telling me that he was ready to introduce me to his straight friends

from school.

And I could hear Mowcah assuring me that there was nothing wrong with paying for relationships, that

it was natural and to be expected for people like us.

Now it was my mother, berating me for being too feminine, too emotional, and for liking boys over and

over and over again until she was shouting that I would never be able to find love and that I would grow

old alone.

Next was my father, his big hand slapping my face hard enough that all the sounds in the world were

reduced to a constant ringing in my ear.

Then instead of his palms, he hit me with his fists until my ribs hurt. He kept punching me to the point

that although I could hear his knuckles coming into contact with my flesh, I was too numb to feel

anything.

I didn't understand why he was livid, but somehow, I knew it was because in his eyes I was a

disgusting kid, unlike his other son.

My brother was just there while our father did those things to me, immersed in a book as always.

"It's alright. I'm here now," said Jiwoo.

But all I heard was my brother accusing me of having sold my phone to be able to give money to some

boys, despite the bruises I had gotten from trying to fight off the bullies who had taken it from me.

Finally, the only voice I heard in my head my own. It was telling me I shouldn't kid myself any longer. It

was telling me that this was the life I was meant to live.

"It's going to be okay," Jiwoo whispered. "Everything's going to be okay."

I knew better. Like all the men in my life, he too was a monster that did nothing but spit lie after lie and

whose cruelty knew no bounds.

Nothing is going to be okay. Nothing ever was. Nothing ever will be.