Fifteen years ago, I recalled every scene of rejection I had witnessed in Korean dramas and movies. The faces of some actors who uttered phrases like, “Meet someone better than me,” or “You deserve someone far superior to me,” briefly flashed through my mind. However, such feeble refusals would not sway the tenacious Kamian. How could one reject such a wishy-washy rejection statement?
It would be more effective to express my refusal decisively to Kamian. If I were to impulsively say, “I dislike you!” he would undoubtedly inquire about the reasons. Responding with, “You’re not my type,” would be problematic because Kamian knew me all too well. He knew I had a penchant for his facade and would resort to flattery on occasion, which left nothing more to be said.
“…Perhaps I am too occupied to engage in a romantic relationship.”
That obstinate fellow would have simply nodded, understanding my schedule all too well. Even if he presented a myriad of excuses and promised to wait until I had more free time, that would only create another headache.
I struck through the words I had just written with my pen.
“…I have never considered you more than a friend.”
I had already said this to Kamian several times. Yet, instead of closing off his heart, he persisted in confessing his feelings, often through tears. This, too, was not a favourable course of action.
I pondered over various rejection phrases, but none seemed adequate. I even contemplated uttering the absurdity of “I am as*xual.”
“[Sigh]”
If verbal rejections alone were unlikely to be effective, then…
I set my pen down on the desk and rested the back of my head against the chair’s backrest.
“Could my attitude be the problem?”
My attempt to wear down Kamian by inflicting emotional pain had yielded unexpected results.
“As long as it’s not repulsive, wasn’t the idea to keep him even as a mere tool, if nothing else?”
What nonsense about wearing him down? Kamian held hope that he could become a necessary presence in some way or another.
In the end, the plan to treat Kamian as a mere tool had resulted in a resounding failure.
I gazed up at the ceiling, completely tilting my head back, and swung my legs.
“…Then there’s no need to have s*x with Kamian either.”
As soon as this thought crossed my mind, a spark ignited in my head. I swiftly straightened my posture and grasped the pen.
“Why didn’t I think of this obvious idea before?”
Without hesitation, the pen glided across the paper. Just as my wrist began to itch, I decisively placed a period and held the paper in both hands. I paced around the room, repeatedly memorizing the words I had written on the paper.
* * *
Hours passed, with darkness slowly receding and morning approaching. I murmured the words I had memorized, gazing at the entrance to Kamian’s abode. It took me no more than thirty minutes to commit them to memory, but I had spent all that time preparing myself mentally.
As I observed the dimming darkness beyond the window, I pondered whether I should just wait for daybreak and speak then. However, I concluded that it would be better to voice my thoughts while Kamian was still drowsy and muddled, as if casting them away in a dreamy state. And so, I found myself standing at the threshold of Kamian’s residence.
I cleared my throat, as if trying to dislodge an obstructing substance in my tightly constricted throat, and rapped on the door. Before an answer could reach my ears, I swiftly swung open the door and entered. The moment I set foot inside the room, I almost stumbled backward, emitting an eerie groan.
“Were you not asleep?”
Kamian sat up in bed, turning only his head to gaze at me.
“And you?”
He inquired in a voice still steeped in slumber.
“I have something to say.”
Kamian seemed to be inching closer to me. I quickly extended both arms, blocking his advance.
“Stay right there. I’ll just say what needs to be said and leave.”
Kamian, who had partially risen, sank back onto the bed and turned his body toward me. Damn, why am I so tense? I scratched beneath my neck and forced my stiff lips into an unnatural smile.
“Kamian, I’ve thought a lot after hearing your confession today. Firstly, thank you for seeing me in a favourable light. However… I cannot accept your feelings. I’m sorry. You are a cherished friend and family to me, but not a lover. Although it may sound cruel to you, I have never once considered you in that way. Moreover, now that I know your heart, I hope we can put an end to our relationship that was limited to sharing a bed. Not to mention, I have no desire to receive any further acts of kindness from you. Drawing this line will also help you in forgetting me.”
I spoke, endeavouring to modulate my tone with swiftness and emphasis, as I had practiced. Once I had rebuffed his confession, which felt like a burdensome homework assignment, a deep sigh escaped from within me.
Kamian remained silent for a while. He showed no reaction and simply stared at me with an expressionless face, his eyes resembling a parched desert.
“…Kamian?”
I called out to him softly.
“I understand.”
Only then did Kamian respond. However, his answer caught me off guard, and I widened my eyes in surprise.
“Really?”
I had expected him to argue back or reveal his possessive side, but he simply said, “I understand.” All the simulations of our heated arguments conducted before entering this room had been in vain.
“Instead, you need to help me a little.”
Kamian added, continuing his words.
“What?”
“As you said, so that I can forget you.”
I remained silent.
“I have liked you for so long, and my heart is so immense that it cannot be easily severed like cutting with scissors. I can never forget you on my own.”
“How can I help you then?” he asked.
Fifteen years ago, I recalled every scene of rejection I had witnessed in Korean dramas and movies. The faces of some actors who uttered phrases like, “Meet someone better than me,” or “You deserve someone far superior to me,” briefly flashed through my mind. However, such feeble refusals would not sway the tenacious Kamian. How could one reject such a wishy-washy rejection statement?
It would be more effective to express my refusal decisively to Kamian. If I were to impulsively say, “I dislike you!” he would undoubtedly inquire about the reasons. Responding with, “You’re not my type,” would be problematic because Kamian knew me all too well. He knew I had a penchant for his facade and would resort to flattery on occasion, which left nothing more to be said.
“…Perhaps I am too occupied to engage in a romantic relationship.”
That obstinate fellow would have simply nodded, understanding my schedule all too well. Even if he presented a myriad of excuses and promised to wait until I had more free time, that would only create another headache.
I struck through the words I had just written with my pen.
“…I have never considered you more than a friend.”
I had already said this to Kamian several times. Yet, instead of closing off his heart, he persisted in confessing his feelings, often through tears. This, too, was not a favourable course of action.
I pondered over various rejection phrases, but none seemed adequate. I even contemplated uttering the absurdity of “I am as*xual.”
“[Sigh]”
If verbal rejections alone were unlikely to be effective, then…
I set my pen down on the desk and rested the back of my head against the chair’s backrest.
“Could my attitude be the problem?”
My attempt to wear down Kamian by inflicting emotional pain had yielded unexpected results.
“As long as it’s not repulsive, wasn’t the idea to keep him even as a mere tool, if nothing else?”
What nonsense about wearing him down? Kamian held hope that he could become a necessary presence in some way or another.
In the end, the plan to treat Kamian as a mere tool had resulted in a resounding failure.
I gazed up at the ceiling, completely tilting my head back, and swung my legs.
“…Then there’s no need to have s*x with Kamian either.”
As soon as this thought crossed my mind, a spark ignited in my head. I swiftly straightened my posture and grasped the pen.
“Why didn’t I think of this obvious idea before?”
Without hesitation, the pen glided across the paper. Just as my wrist began to itch, I decisively placed a period and held the paper in both hands. I paced around the room, repeatedly memorizing the words I had written on the paper.
* * *
Hours passed, with darkness slowly receding and morning approaching. I murmured the words I had memorized, gazing at the entrance to Kamian’s abode. It took me no more than thirty minutes to commit them to memory, but I had spent all that time preparing myself mentally.
As I observed the dimming darkness beyond the window, I pondered whether I should just wait for daybreak and speak then. However, I concluded that it would be better to voice my thoughts while Kamian was still drowsy and muddled, as if casting them away in a dreamy state. And so, I found myself standing at the threshold of Kamian’s residence.
I cleared my throat, as if trying to dislodge an obstructing substance in my tightly constricted throat, and rapped on the door. Before an answer could reach my ears, I swiftly swung open the door and entered. The moment I set foot inside the room, I almost stumbled backward, emitting an eerie groan.
“Were you not asleep?”
Kamian sat up in bed, turning only his head to gaze at me.
“And you?”
He inquired in a voice still steeped in slumber.
“I have something to say.”
Kamian seemed to be inching closer to me. I quickly extended both arms, blocking his advance.
“Stay right there. I’ll just say what needs to be said and leave.”
Kamian, who had partially risen, sank back onto the bed and turned his body toward me. Damn, why am I so tense? I scratched beneath my neck and forced my stiff lips into an unnatural smile.
“Kamian, I’ve thought a lot after hearing your confession today. Firstly, thank you for seeing me in a favourable light. However… I cannot accept your feelings. I’m sorry. You are a cherished friend and family to me, but not a lover. Although it may sound cruel to you, I have never once considered you in that way. Moreover, now that I know your heart, I hope we can put an end to our relationship that was limited to sharing a bed. Not to mention, I have no desire to receive any further acts of kindness from you. Drawing this line will also help you in forgetting me.”
I spoke, endeavouring to modulate my tone with swiftness and emphasis, as I had practiced. Once I had rebuffed his confession, which felt like a burdensome homework assignment, a deep sigh escaped from within me.
Kamian remained silent for a while. He showed no reaction and simply stared at me with an expressionless face, his eyes resembling a parched desert.
“…Kamian?”
I called out to him softly.
“I understand.”
Only then did Kamian respond. However, his answer caught me off guard, and I widened my eyes in surprise.
“Really?”
I had expected him to argue back or reveal his possessive side, but he simply said, “I understand.” All the simulations of our heated arguments conducted before entering this room had been in vain.
“Instead, you need to help me a little.”
Kamian added, continuing his words.
“What?”
“As you said, so that I can forget you.”
I remained silent.
“I have liked you for so long, and my heart is so immense that it cannot be easily severed like cutting with scissors. I can never forget you on my own.”
“How can I help you then?” he asked.
