I liked his looks, his quiet demeanor, dreamy eyes, clean hair, immaculate attire and overall ambience that was emanating from him. When he said, perhaps we could become good friends, I gave him a smile which said "Yes, I agree," but in my head I was wondering 'Just how long will it be before you realize that I am the one?'.

This was not my arrogance telling me that. What I knew for certain was that I didn't want him to be my friend, and I was so certain that he was the other half I always believed I'd find someday. I know it may sound silly and amazingly naive but I was a young girl of barely 18 and never had even been on a date before, yet I always had this romantic idea of recognizing my lost half as soon as I saw him. You all know where this notion comes from. I truly believed in the myth, all that about man were split in two as punishment at being insolent to gods, therefore we are forever left with this endless longing, and we will not feel complete until finding that other half. (Well, it still sounds good to me.)

In the following couple of weeks, we went out to dinner, saw movies, visited museums, took taxis, trolleys, buses, and roamed around every corner of the city. Then, of course, he fell in love with me as I predi-
cted. But by then I was already getting weary of him. I've come to realize I was completely wrong in thinking he was the one. What happened was that I was in love with my own idea which is the mistake I will repeat again and again throughout my life. I superimposed on him the image of a perfect man I projected in my mind, but as we talked and got to know each other the layer was coming off fast. It's not to say that there was anything wrong with him.

At this point, I was wishing so very hard that he wouldn't say it.
We were sitting on a bench, watching autumn leaves falling all over
the pond.
"I think I am falling in love with you," he said.
"No, you shouldn't." I was quick to reply in an attempt to stop him in his mid sentence. What came next was hard. Because I had to let him know that I didn't love him, and there is no hope that I ever would. In my defense, I can say at least I never said anything that would lead him to think I did, therefore if he fell in love that's all his doing. One thing was clear to me and that was I had to stop seeing him. I can justify myself by saying I was trying to be fair and didn't want to hurt him any longer than necessary but the truth is that I couldn't bear to look at his sad face anymore.

As the evening drew close I had to tell him this was it and we won't see each other anymore. He should've expected something is amiss because I've been subdued the whole evening. But the stricken look on his face said he didn't expect this.
"Why?," he asked.
"Because I don't love you," I said.
For a minute he looked around as if he was looking for help in the darkening streets, then said "Maybe we can go back to being friends."
Oh, how I hated him then. Because he was being pitiful, and I didn't want to pity him.

He would not say good bye. I kept trying to walk away from him but he kept the pace with me until I finally had to stop and tell him not to follow. "You have to go, H." He had strangely stubborn look on his face, and shook his head. "No, I can't. I want to know where you live." "Why?"
"So, I can come over and call you outside to play with me," then he actually started chanting loudly.
"Kyoung-ah, Kyoung-ah, come on out, come out and play with me!"
In my horror I noticed some passers-by were looking at us curiously.
I had to think fast and come up with an idea to end this. "If you don't stop it and go home, I will have to call someone."
"Who? Are you going to call police?" He almost sounded hopeful.
"No, I am thinking... I am going to call your parents."
"You won't dare."
"Watch me."
He almost pushed me into the phone booth.
"If you just go home, I don't have to do this," I pleaded.
"It's not that I don't want to, I can't." and he handed me the phone, "Go ahead."
Amazing, isn't it? I actually dialed and did talk to his mother. I've never met her or talked to her before but I knew it was her when she came to the phone. I told her simply that I am with H and night is late but he does not want to go home.
"Is he sick?" she cried.
"No," I said.
"Is he drunk?"
"No, he is fine. He just won't go home."

It didn't take long before a car drove up and a woman got out. He stood there as she was walking toward us, but by then I was walking away. When I felt I was far away enough I looked back, and saw her leading him into the car with an arm protectively around her son.

I thought that was the last I saw of him but I was wrong.

About a month later, I ran into him in front of a teahouse where we used to meet. Looking back, I think he might have been waiting for me there. When I said "Hi," he said he needed to talk to me. "Let me buy you lunch, you are going to eat lunch anyway, right?"
Across the table I noticed how pale and withdrawn he looked. But didn't he always look like that? I liked his paleness and slender frame when I first met him, I thought he was rather beautiful. So, what changed? He didn't change... so it's got to be me.

I didn't have anything to say, so I ate while he just pushed food around on his plate and watched me eat.
Finally when I looked up and asked what it was that he wanted to talk about, he said "You didn't even ask how I was."
I knew what he was trying to do yet couldn't help myself feeling guilty which prompted me to ask how he was.
"I just got released from hospital."
"Why, what happened?" I stared at him with a heavy feeling in my stomach.
"They thought I was crazy..." He gave me a pained smile. I didn't ask him any details, I didn't want to know the details.
Nothing was said for the rest of the meal until the bill came. If he wasn't going to talk, I wasn't going to press him but when he looked at me decisively I knew he was ready.

"What do you want?" he asked me.
"What do I want?" I asked him back, confused.
"From you...? I don't want anything."
"Why not?" He sounded angry for the first time.
"I can give you things. What is it you want?"
"You don't have anything I want, H."
"Do you know my father is very rich? I am his only son and he will give me anything I ask"
I got up from the table. I just wanted to leave.

He followed me until I reached bus stop where I wanted to take one that will carry me away from him. I almost expected he'd follow me up on the bus but after I settled myself in a seat and looked back he was still standing outside. He was facing toward me but he wasn't looking at me. He was all alone at the curb, and his face was turned upward. As the bus started moving he got closer, I looked to see what was in the air so interested him but found nothing except relentless afternoon sun. What I saw was his face, and the rivulets of tears that were running down his gaunt cheeks. That's when my heart broke.