1. gelato pique cafe芒果新品登場
法式可麗餅專賣店gelato pique cafe於6月15日起在北中兩地同步推出4款芒果新品，頂級愛文芒果化身多種形態，包括新鮮芒果丁、芒果果醬、芒果雪酪，再交相組合出酸甜濃郁的夏季滋味。外皮酥脆入口Q彈的可麗餅皮，包裹著愛文芒果塊和芒果果醬的「黃金芒果可麗餅」，撒上杏仁碎片凸顯芒果的香甜；還可加入香草冰淇淋或芒果雪酪做成「芒果冰淇淋可麗餅」，份量扎實滿足感破表。
Gelato Pique Cafe
台北店：信義新天地A8 2樓空橋 (台北市信義區松高路12號2樓)
3. 台南晶英 X Haagen-Dazs創意造型冰品
台南晶英酒店 X Haagen-Dazs – 夏日冰品
8. niko and …X 蜷尾家
曾在4/26和5/5舉辦的2018 Vogue風格野餐日中快閃登場的「niko and …X 蜷尾家」聯名冰品—「焦糖海鹽冰淇淋麵包」，重新登陸niko and …台北旗艦店，同時加碼「桂花鳳梨冰淇淋紅茶」，於6/29-7/29展開為期一個月的期間限定販售。
蜷尾家使用嘉義州南鹽場的海鹽製作焦糖海鹽冰淇淋，搭配體積特意縮小的niko and …招牌麵包，大大減少了食用時的滿腹感，讓你更有餘裕感受鹹甜交織的絕妙口感。「桂花鳳梨冰淇淋紅茶」使用富含桂花香的關廟鳳梨冰淇淋，搭配Q彈十足口感的椰果，無糖紅茶調和了過度甜膩的隱憂，反而更加清涼爽口。
niko and … × 蜷尾家
niko and …TAIPEI
9. COLD STONE「金桔芒果」新冰報到
※編輯：Silvia, Wendy VOGUE.TW | 來源：各品牌
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Ang Pagbibinata ni Joven Hernando-Bernal
(alternately, The Life and Times of Jovito Hernando, Bernal Brother #3)
a fic by @toniongbuwan / @ipakomokoroman
with @sumbungero / @chinupacoroman
images by @dettsu / @bagyong-goyong
1,182 words of 17k+ | PG | Pacoven (One-sided), Paco Roman/Juliana Piqueras
cw: eating disorder
chapter index: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15
Chapter 15: “Permanently, I think.”
Most first heartbreaks happen over epic misunderstandings, tragic circumstances, and irreconcilable differences. They happen in hospital rooms, over tables in sidewalk cafes, inside cars while the rain pounds outside. Some people, more fortunate, have their hearts broken while sitting in the plush seats of a movie house, staring at a wide theatre screen, love failing in glorious 3D and full Dolby Stereo.
For Joven, his first heartbreak happened in the most mundane manner: sitting on a dining table sipping spicy sour soup, while the cause of his heartbreak laughed two places over from his seat, feeding his girlfriend shrimp from his own fork.
Now, up on his room, his breath dragged while tears spilled down his cheeks. His chest hurt. He turned to his side and buried his face on the crook of the neck of his favorite stuffed bear, which ironically, shared the same name as the person that he was crying over.
The door creaked open slowly, Paco’s head poking in. “Jovito?” he whispered, “uuwi na kami.”
“Love, tulog na ‘ata siya,” a female voice in the hallway. Jules. “Huwag mo nang gisingin, kawawa naman, siya daw nag-prepare ng birthday dinner ni Manuel.”
Paco closed the door, but not before Joven heard him say, “Ayaw ko lang kasi na umuwi na hindi siya nakikita. Para kasing malungkot siya kanina.”
Joven shut his eyes and ignored them both.
With Jules back in Manila (“Permanently, I think.” his Kuya Manuel said over breakfast) Paco’s visits became less frequent. When once he was a semi-permanent fixture in the Bernal living room (“Iparenta na kaya natin kay Kuya Paco yung sofa? Parang sa bedspacer?” “Joselito!”), he now visited once weekly at most, and only with Jules in tow. Everyone else saw nothing untoward or strange in this. Paco and Jules had been apart for so long, it was only be natural that they spend time together. Of course, the days that he visited with Jules would be the same days that Joven’s illness would suspiciously reappear and he would have to keep to his room.
Joven mostly slept, for the waking world brought on heartache. He’d sleep so much that the skin on his scalp and the limbs that he was resting on would grow numb. Food held no interest for him, nor anything for that matter. Every song was painful, every movie a recollection that he’d rather not have. He paid so little attention at school that one of his friends took him aside to ask him if he was on medication. The illegal kind.
He'd cry at the most random places. He didn't know what he was crying about. Was it Paco? Was it him and Jules? Was it the dull ache on his heart that never seemed to go away? Was it even anything at all? The tears sparked his self-loathing; he felt ridiculous and embarrassed at his helplessness.
José gave up on calling him down for dinner. He started putting Joven’s meals in microwaveable containers, but grew furious when they all remained untouched. “Hoy, Jovito, papatayin mo ba sarili mo! Kumain ka nga dito sa baba.” Joven threw a pillow over his head, ignored him and went back to sleep.
After more than a week of this routine, José brought out the big guns. This time, it was Manuel who came to Joven’s room, grim-faced.
“Joven, gumising ka diyan. Ang tagal mo nang puro tulog.” He snatched the blanket from Joven’s head. “Get up.”
Joven sat up on his bed, back to the wall. His eyes were bloodshot and his lip was bleeding from where it had cracked.
“I expect this kind of thing sa kuya mo. Pero ikaw Joven? Hinde. Hindi ka kumakain, palagi ka lang natutulog o kaya tulala.” Manuel spoke, hands on his hips, forehead furrowed. “Ano bang nangyayari sayo? Binubully ka ba sa school? May problema ka ba na hindi mo sinasabi? Nagwoworry na kami ng kuya mo. Anong gusto mong gawin namin para sa ‘yo?”
Joven stared on, silent, and chewed on the dried piece of skin of his lower lip. Finally, he said “Kuya, masama pakiramdam ko. Gusto ko lang matulog.”
Manuel shook his head and left his room. After that, he took to bringing food up to Joven on a tray and watching him gulp down a few spoonfuls of soup before Joven begged for sleep.
Once, Paco came up to his room and sat on the foot of his bed. “Magaling ka na ba? Halika, punta na tayo sa doctor.” he urged. Joven just turned on his side and resolutely stared at the wall. Paco sighed and reaching out to squeeze his ankle, left. Joven took to locking his room after that.
But Paco persisted, deaf to Manuel’s murmured instructions to give Joven some peace. He’d invite Joven numerous times to out-of town-weekends with him and Jules: Tagaytay, Calaguas, Palawan, Bohol. Telling him that Jules had generously offered to pay for his fare and accommodation, that he need not worry. Joven declined all of them. He’d leave food, to tempt Joven's appetite into eating; platefuls of fettuccine, siomai, cheese pizza, tubs of gelato. Joven left them all inside the refrigerator to spoil before his kuyas could eat them for him.
In a fit of pique and loneliness, he texted Goyong. José’s friend was mostly politely apathetic towards anything that concerned Paco, or even Joven for that matter. Joven wanted to talk someone familiar, but without the threat of Paco’s name looming up in the conversation.
“Hey.” he typed.
After a few seconds, his phone buzzed.
“Oi.” and then “Musta di na kita nakikita?”
“Nagkasakit lang.” His stomach grumbled. His hands were on the keypad, labas tayo, nagugutom ako. He wanted to type. But going out meant rising up from bed and facing too many things that would remind him of Paco. In the end, he decided against it and locked his screen. He tucked it back under his pillow and slept, ignoring the insistent buzzing.
Weeks passed and Joven wasted away. His shirts started hanging loosely on his frame, and he couldn’t even gather the strength to walk up a flight of stairs. He felt dizzy and couldn’t keep down his food. After a particularly bad bout of crying his chest hurt so badly that he had to knock on his Kuya José’s door for help. The feigned illness that he’d insisted on was threatening to become real. With his brother’s insistence, they went to the emergency room. Tests were done and it was concluded; cardiomyopathy.
The doctor, a kind elderly man with thinning hair, tiredly sipped his cup of coffee. “It’s the weakening of the heart muscles. Baka stress, lack of proper diet, exercise or rest. Popularly, it’s called the Broken Heart Syndrome. Anatomically that’s a lie. The heart doesn’t break, of course. The muscles in our heart are the strongest in our body. But,” and here he looked at Joven lying down on the sterile hospital bed, curled pitifully, “it does get tired.”
“But he doesn’t have a history of heart illnesses.” Manuel stated, puzzled. “Nor does his family, I think.”
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