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The taste of coffee lingers inside my mouth, tongue captivating the sweetness of the flavor I have chosen to drink this morning opposite to my usual which is black coffee without any sugar added on it.
The sound of morning noises from the people coming in and out from the cafe I chose to stay in and do my pending tasks for my multiple subjects added to the unsettling voices inside my head that made me lose my focus on the essay I am writing.
“I knew something was wrong when you ordered a coffee-based Frappuccino with added shots of milk instead of your usual espresso.”
The barista took the empty space in front me and began giving me hot stares that I can’t avoid. I liked him talking to me even though he was scolding.
“Joshua, you should stop sounding like a detective every chance you get to decipher my actions.”
He scoffed. Of course he’ll scoff, that’s one of his mannerisms whenever I talk back to him. Sometimes because of amusement but sometimes because he can’t believe I can always answer him as a fight back. “You stop being a mystery then.” I think that’s another way for him to tell me to loosen up.
I can feel him still staring at me. I’m waiting for him to talk although I am now loving the comfort his presence is giving me when he decides to sit and abandon his work. Long silence followed by the series of sighs came from him as I continued doing my work. This is not due yet even in the next few days, but I guess I’ll do everything to prevent my mind from wandering and thinking even the most unexplainable things under the ground.
“Stop.” I looked at him when he finally found his voice. With confusion, I ask, “What?”
“Stop torturing yourself like that.” He sounded like begging.
“I don’t understand.”
“Stop eating the brownie and coffee you bought and start talking to me.” Oh. “Please.”
Now, I am certain that he’s begging.
I can hear his voice wounded. If earlier he’s stopping himself from being exposed with dreadful emotions, now it is already clawing its way to be out and be seen and much more, to be felt.
He glanced at my arms to my hands. I saw it cracked as pain began dominating his beautiful orbs and without any warning, he stood up and went next to me, finished my last remaining bite of brownie and consumed the frappuccino I ordered with one big slurp that I barely touched.
“You’re not into sweets, Seokmin.”
Ah, right.
I’m not into sweets. But I want to try it for the experience, I guess? Well, it’s not really that bad and I think I’ll order it again.
“I’ll treat your wounds.”
He held my palm with such tenderness that I almost thought I was imagining because of too much gentleness. He guided me to get inside his office as he’s also the owner of this café, he just helps the people in the frontline. That's why he was the one who took my order when I got here earlier. Well, he always made sure that he’s the one taking my order in the first place.
The staff bowed and nodded their heads when we came into them on the way to his designated quarter as a boss and I smiled to each and every one of them to greet them back, even waved at them cutely while Joshua’s face remained stoic.
“Sit. I’ll just get my first aid kit.” He motioned me to sit on his office chair that is so soft because of my request to put a cushion as he always lends it to me whenever I study here and gets crowded outside.
His features are so soft and astonishingly beautiful. His plump lips and nose are so cute to pinch, especially when he smiles that always triggers my cuteness aggression. His expressive eyes whenever he looks at something that caught his attention. His hair strands resting on his forehead that adds to his charisma. His earrings that captivated both men and women’s attraction.
He’s busy tending to my cuts while I’m busy checking him out like a crazy man.
Crazy in love man.
“You know that you always have me, right?”
There he goes again with a voice full of pain and extreme sadness that can make me stand up and straight confess all my sins and worries.
“Of course, I know. You never let me forget that, Joshua.”
“And I am not forcing you to tell me everything,” he now looked up to me. If earlier he’s stopping himself to flow his falls in his eyes, now he’s letting me see all of his vulnerability. “But please...”
“Please tell me whenever you are hurt. Call me, send me a message...” His voice cracked. “I am so close to forcing you to run away from your house and live with me so I could guard and take care of you 24/7.”
“Love, this is torture.” He added.
So heart clenching scene to see him broke down in front of me, two knees down on the floor as I remain seated to his office chair while his forehead was pressed in my thighs. I can feel him weak and shaking with too much restraint, keeping all his emotions to himself and not letting me see his whole being crushed.
“I could have... I could just...”
“This is not your fault.” My hands reached for his cheeks so I could lift it up and face it to me. My fingers immediately got drenched with tears as I wiped his face but not really helping as his waterworks don’t plan to stop functioning. I flashed a smile as I assure him, “None of what is happening is your fault.”
“Baby, you have so much love to give that even those who are not worth it are receiving it.”
“Joshua, they are worth it.” I said emphasizing the word “are” and continued with almost a whisper. “They are my parents.”
“You have 20 minutes to get ready. We’re going to the church tonight.” My father wasn’t even looking at me straight while rambling things about going to the parish even though it is nine in the evening.
“Darling,” I don’t know what’s happening and I know it reflects in my eyes when I look at my mother with eyes full of questions. “Go, we’ll wait for you in the car.”
“Ma, why are we going to church?” at this hour? And it’s Wednesday? I just got home from my groupmate’s flat as we finished a task due tomorrow. It’s not even ten minutes since I entered our house.
“Move now!” I was startled when my father shouted. He’s raging, I can tell. And frustrated. But I don’t know the sole reason why. He’s already at the doorstep with a coat in his right hand and a rosary in his left.
“I’ll go with you to your room. Go change your clothes, Seokie.” Mama. Her soft voice is contradicting her eyes, faint animosity can be seen and I’m getting scared.
I was a first-year college student and confused when a priest from a nearby parish started his prayer when me and my family visited during that night.
My family is one of the highest church contributors. We always attend masses and we’re never absent from all activities our church would implement to strengthen the bond of the members, pray together and keep intact with words of God.
Full of hesitation and uncertainty, I still abided when the priest told me to do things as we both pray. My parents were already seated in one of the long chairs behind the front of the sanctuary, waiting for us to finish, when Father Sison started his chant from the Bible where I couldn’t figure why he was lecturing me about having only two genders, only male and female.
He started giving me verses from the holy book I always read every night for my devotion as part of my daily routine before I dozed off to bed and had my rest.
Finally grasping the situation I have in front me. I am now having an idea what is happening.
Do my parents know?
How? When? Where? Why?
How would they know the only thing I have kept in myself since I am always honest with them with everything?
When did they know since I have just confirmed about it just recently after denying it for so long?
Where do they hear it as I have never mentioned that to anyone, more so see me act like it?
Why do they need to know when I don’t have a plan of confessing it? To shrink it from my dark thoughts and assume it never came into picture?
I’m gay. Or so what people want to address someone like me.
And I know the belief of our family is certainly opposed to that idea. Totally disagree that they made it possible to call out a priest in the middle of the night and in the middle of the week just to give me a sermon about having only two sexes.
“Thank you so much for granting our request, Father. I know it’s so random and you’re probably resting but you still came here. It’s just really an emergency; we want to stop it as much as possible.”
Emergency?
My mother is holding my hands tightly while we’re at the back of the car, my father is driving and keeps on glancing outside like we’re some robbers running away from the eyes of policemen, on the way to our home.
Is it that sinful to be like this?
“Go take your devotion before you sleep and repent for the sins you have committed, Seokmin. We will discuss what you’ve written in your devotion diary tomorrow morning during breakfast.” My father commanded with such an authoritative voice while my mother kissed my forehead goodnight before going into their room.
Staring blankly at my desk, I can’t find my energy to lift my arms and my Bible and notebook to start my devotion. I couldn’t find the willingness to read and commit my whole focus to do the last task of my everyday life.
So many thoughts came rushing through my mind and liquid started pouring from my delicate line of sight.
I started crying.
Head consuming every detail of what is happening. From the moment I start noticing the changes in my preferences whether I am just getting a mere attraction from the random guy I saw staring at me one time outside of our university while I wait for our family driver.
From the moment I started seeing him from a different perspective when I saw him for the second time.
From the moment I started talking to him when he approached me and made me smile because of his cuteness when he shyly asked for my name the third time.
From the first time he invited me to a cafe and get a place to study as he once caught me doing my papers in the parking lot while waiting for our car. I explained that I only do that because I don’t want Manong to wait for me long even though I have the option to work inside the school’s library but still, he insisted. Turns out he will be the owner of the cafe after he graduates from college.
From the moment I realized the attraction I had felt the first time will be morphed into a strong emotion that I would never deny as I consider it as a gift to humankind.
From the moment I started admitting that I love Joshua.
He was so gentle and kind and sweet and cute and so much more that could make a person bend their knees to be taken care of by him. I admire him as he was so gentle, so pure that even if he was receiving threats from my family, he remained soft and in love with me.
To experience how understanding and loving he is in this lifetime cannot equate the world’s cruelness.
Was it my fault that I loved a man?
My Joshua didn’t deserve to be treated as a sin and emergency that needs a priest for assistance in the middle of the night.
“Did they force you to go fasting again?” Joshua asked when I visited him in his cafe, and I refused to order food even if he offered it for free.
His presence is enough to make me feel at ease and full.
I nodded at his question. He sighed. I know he’s blaming himself again after I told him what happened.
“How many days this time?”
“Uh... three weeks.”
“What?!” He almost yelled but he kept the loud voice to himself. He knows I’ve become sensitive to raised voice even though it was not directed at me. “I’m sorry, baby. But that’s crazy!” He hugged me like it would take all the pain away and began whispering his love and sorry. He started crying like he’s sharing my pain with him through the hug, and I assured him that I’m okay, hugging him back as I can feel myself weakening upon hearing his sobs.
He's hurting and it’s because of me but I don’t want to stop seeing my ray of sunshine to the darkness that was eating my whole existence.
He never once told me to stop seeing him, but I know the thought is lingering on his mind. Though, he once told me to prioritize my family, and I agreed but believed when I said that I tried connecting with them again and did not visit the cafe or think about Joshua for the meantime. I know he loves me enough to give up our relationship so I would stop experiencing shit from the world. He wanted so bad to switch our situation for my betterment, but I totally refused the idea.
No. I refused to believe that what we have is wrong. It was the judgment of the people around us that should be taken as invalid.
“Love, you don’t really have to compromise your safety by coming here.” He softly said when I sneakily went out of our campus due to the students’ throwing things at me while laughing. He doesn’t know that. I just hugged him. Despite him subtly suggesting for us to stop seeing each other, he would still gladly
accept me in his arms to welcome me in a hug whenever I chose to ignore the torments I will receive at home from my parents when they hear what I did from the professors.
But am I wrong to seek comfort from him to escape the harsh reality of the world?
My parents began giving me treatment, as what they say, will lessen my transgression when that morning came, and I was not able to present anything for my devotion as what they told me to do. I began receiving cold treatment from my mother and harsh words from my father that made me cry in an instant but would only be taken as a way to get sympathy.
They stopped letting me attend masses and church activities as I would only tamper the holy place and sacraments, their words.
I know my parents love me.
They are just concerned but I know they love me.
Or at least that is what I am believing.
“Seokmin, we’re having a celebration with the people from the parish here, so I need you to stay in your room and not come out.” My father once said one day after Sunday mass, and I just stayed in the house. I waited for them to come home and was about to bless with their hands, but they ignored my gesture.
It hurts. But I wouldn’t complain, they are my parents, and I should respect them so here I am inside my room hearing the loud laughter from the first floor as they celebrate some anniversary from the church.
It was one of the people from the neighboring family who saw me with Joshua every time I visited the cafe that told my father. That’s why Papa never let someone from the church see me as he’s embarrassed of what they will say.
I always took praying seriously. I always pray whenever I am sad, happy, feeling angry, when I feel blessed, when I passed my exams and received high scores or even low as the above still guided me to finish the semester. I never once skip to thank Him every single day for keeping me alive.
I never doubted God.
I know what I am getting into when I first acknowledged my changes. I have long accepted the challenges and hardships this situation will throw at me but I never anticipated losing a parent whom I cherished and loved from the moment I was born.
But can’t I ask? Can’t I question if what I am experiencing is still necessary as I have already fought and give everything, but I couldn’t get out from excruciating pain.
Can I say that I am already losing my hope from being accepted as the society denying my kind?
I am not considering my experiences as a torture and would only take it as lesson, but I also have my limit.
Whenever my father throws hateful words at me every morning while I can barely swallow the breakfast, lunch, and dinner. At least they still provide me food and I am still thankful.
Whenever my mother denies me to her amigas when they are having a teatime inside our sala every Saturday afternoon. At least I still have a house that provide shelter through the seasons.
Whenever they ask me to do fasting and just repent my wrongdoings that only started with three days and gone up to three weeks.
Whenever I would look at Joshua’s picture on my phone every midnight to cry and let out my pain to drain my growing hate towards my parents since I still want to see them the next morning and be able to smile even if they don’t do it back to me. At least I still find comfort through the person I know He let me meet in this lifetime.
Whenever I am hurt that I no longer have friends at school because my mother’s amigas warned them about me. Attending an all-boys school sucks for me now.
I love my parents, and I respect them with all of me but them hurting me physically was my last straw.
I received a punch when I came back home late. “Wow, you still have the audacity to face us when you have your disgusting guy just outside a while ago to take you home?” They already fired my driver and won’t let me take the car and it was raining hard so there is no cab or public transportation that I can take to get home. Joshua called in exact moment asking how I was and grasp the situation, so he offered to take me. One moment my father’s yelling at me and the next thing I know he’s already pounded on me while I received another punch on my face, and another, and another, until I can no longer count how many.
I looked at my mother who was sitting on the sofa while having her hot tea but she just looked away, so I cried while receiving my father’s rage.
He kept on giving me names such as slut, harlot, wanton, any words that would degrade me.
I thought I would die.
I tended my wounds alone and did not get out of the house for a week, but I still take my classes online. My phone keeps vibrating from calls and messages that are probably from Joshua. I know he’s worried, but I don’t want him to know how swollen my face is and how weak I am now to even speak.
My father did not stop punching me earlier until I dropped my body to the ground and crawled until I got to my room to cry some more and feel my aching body and soul.
I’m so close to giving up.
When I already found myself stop crying, my body just dozed off to get some sleep but maybe resting is what I don’t really deserve.
I heard my room door being opened. I tightened my hold on my blanket and kept my eyes closed. Feeling scared and feeling the wind from my window as the person came into my room opened it.
The person sat on my bed where I was facing but I kept my eyes closed. I thought I had already forgotten how my mother’s presence felt. She started discarding my hair softly just like how she did when we’re still doing okay and she’s telling me stories about her happy days during college.
I am a Mama’s boy.
I was a Mama’s boy.
It changes when I started feeling her hand taking my arms and I suddenly feel a stinging pain thrice, so I have no choice but to force my eyes and look at what she’s done to me. I saw my bed getting wet by my blood as her knife slit my skin.
She’s crying and I don’t even want to know why. I no longer feel sympathy and concern every time I am seeing her sad or in pain.
All I feel is betrayal. The first thing that I should feel when she started to ignore me. When I was a kid, all she said was to protect me from all the bad things in the world.
“My baby,” she said while still holding my scraped arms tightly. That adds to the pain of my scars. “Why did you become like this?”
The scars her words injected to me won’t be compared to the scars my father’s punches and her knife wounding my arms.
It goes through my whole being and I began feeling the most painful emotion I have ever felt when they started giving me this kind of treatment that I now considered as torture.
What am I in their eyes?
What did I become?
I’m still their son.
I’m still human.
I just happen to have a different preference than what they do but I am still Seokmin.
I don’t know how to explain that anymore, so I grabbed my school bag and laptop. I thought she’ll stop me when I head to get outside of my room but when I looked back at her, she’s just watching me. Still crying. I am too, but I no longer seek comfort from her. She’s already the one causing me pain.
I continued heading out and when I’m finally outside the house, I looked around. The house where I collected most of my youthful memories. The house where I first feel the love and comfort. The house where I first learned everything. The house where my parents taught me to cherish every good thing in life. The house where I will no longer choose in this lifetime but will still hope for the best.
“Ma, Pa, I love you. And thank you for loving me too.”
I would love to be embraced by my father and mother whenever I got good grades or when I finished my service, but I don’t think it will happen again in this lifetime.
“I don’t need to call you or message you whenever I am hurt, Joshua.”
I can feel that he halted from breathing. He looked up to me with eyes full of pain and I’m sure he misunderstood what I just said so I chuckle. He looked terrified by what I am saying and I’m sure he’s thinking the worst scenario in his head.
“Baby, what you said is not funny.” He still sounded in pain. I hear him stuttering. His eyes are getting clouded by tears and once tears began streaming, I caught it before it even reaches his jaw. He’s totally crying in anxiousness and here I am adoring him.
I am now letting myself do what it wants. Who cares about what they say? I have the best support system that made me still cling to life so who am I to give up?
I stand up and guide him to get on his feet too. I make my way to sit on his table and he, even though I can feel that still overthinking what I said earlier, still assisted me to be comfortable sitting.
I took his hands and place him to stand in between my knees. Now we are seeing each other eye to eye. I snaked my arms around his neck as I pressed my forehead to his. I let out a smile and started opening my mouth.
“I no longer need to call or message you when we’ll be together from now on, yeah?” I said and I can feel his forehead creased.
Ah, my baby.
“And you don’t have to force me to run away with you, Joshua.” I now loosen my arms on his neck to give him space, and he did. He moved his head to look at me with wide eyes.
Surprise, love.
I now have the urge to cut my chains and welcome the freedom that awaits me.
And so, I ask him, “Your offer to live with you hasn’t expired yet, right?”
I know better days will come. I believe that better days will come.