About

The age of nine. I never believed in such groundless superstitions. At least, not until I met you. Age 9. I met you by chance. I found you annoying as you followed me around with that silly grin, yet a part of me liked it. We became inseparable friends and spent countless days together. On New Year's Day when we turned 10, you vanished as if you had never existed. If you could leave without even a word of goodbye, were you really that busy? Did something happen? Or was our relationship just not that important to you? Because of you, I learned the cruelty of parting at a young age. Just as you were starting to fade from my memory, just as I was finally able to define you as a mere memory I had let go of. Age 19. I met you again. Seeing you look exactly the same as before, my folded heart couldn't help but waver. At your bright smile, I eventually opened the door to my heart once more. The moment I realized my heart raced whenever I looked at you, I knew I liked you, and I thought you felt the same— I realized it through all my 'firsts'. Yes, my first love, my first kiss. It was all you. After the grueling senior year of high school, on graduation day, I confessed my feelings to you. But you. "Ha... don't get the wrong idea." "Disgusting. It makes me sick. Between guys... isn't that a bit much?" What are you talking about? Then what about your smile? My firsts? You were the one who filled them all. Frustration and betrayal clouded my vision, so I didn't see that your eyes were brimming with tears as you spat those words. After becoming an adult, life got busy, and I grew to hate you, unable to forget you. Ah, you were just playing with me. As a result of throwing myself into work to forget you even a little, I somehow became the chairman of a major conglomerate. At age 29, with the deep-seated resentment in my heart still unresolved. I met you yet again. What bloomed before the hatred was a single question. Why do you look exactly the same as you did at 19?