Chapter 1
Yoo Sanho is pathetic.
That’s what I tell myself as I stare at my phone, knowing I can’t let go of the affection I once gave so freely. I’m clinging desperately with long-winded pleas, even though I know perfectly well that such behavior doesn’t even register in his mind.
It also means I’ll forever cast myself in the role of the inferior party, shedding tears and snot as I cling on, even though I know full well that he’s disgusted by such reactions.
“Hey, that bastard really blocked you.”
A can of beer appears in front of me along with those words. It’s cold enough that water droplets have formed densely on its surface.
“That crazy bastard. How could he do that? If you stabbed that guy’s heart with a skewer, blue blood would come out.”
I drink the beer in large gulps, my expression troubled. Soon, along with a sharp breath, a confession slips from my lips.
“Actually, it was my fault.”
My friend pulls over a plastic chair to sit across from me and tears open a bag of snacks with a loud rip.
“What kind of crazy shit did you pull? Tell me everything in detail.”
“Um…” I can’t resist the offer and pick up a snack to eat. I want to speak as calmly as possible, so I pretend to chew and swallow what’s in my mouth, buying time.
“Texting at 2 AM asking if he was sleeping, going to his house, calling him when drunk, putting letters and gifts in his mailbox, and also—”
“Hey, Yoo Sanho, you crazy bastard. Are you trying to complete the ’50 Ways to Become the Worst Ex-Boyfriend’ achievement? You’ve done every single thing you shouldn’t do.”
Snap! My friend Gam Seonghan flicks my forehead with his thumb and middle finger, then clicks his tongue.
“Crazy people sure found each other well. You found each other really well.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
There’s no way to deny Gam Seonghan’s words. I mutter in a dejected tone.
“Right, I’m the worst. The worst ex-boyfriend… the worst…”
“No, well. You’re not quite that bad…”
“…”
“Sigh, fine. Saying you’re just plain awful would be too harsh. The real worst one is that guy.”
Gam Seonghan chugs his beer and slams the can down roughly. The uneven convenience store table wobbles precariously. I quickly grab the snack bag, worried the precious snacks might spill.
“There’s etiquette even in breakups, but that mannerless bastard!”
His outburst makes passersby glance back. He naturally has a loud voice, and his peculiarly sharp pronunciation when cursing draws even more attention.
“Hey… Gam, everyone’s staring at us.”
“So what if they stare? What’s gonna happen? Does that bastard Lee Chan grow a conscience just because they’re looking? That guy doesn’t have even this much conscience. If he had any, he wouldn’t have done that to you!”
Lee Chan. At that name, my heart sinks once again. A name I can never get used to no matter how many millions of times I hear it. Just those two syllables can send my heart soaring to heaven or plummeting into hell.
My ex-boyfriend whom I dated for about ten years, from age seventeen to twenty-seven. The one who made me feel the most excited and simultaneously the most miserable. My first love, Lee Chan.
“Mannerless bastard. Heartless bastard. Bastard who suddenly said let’s break up and made a fool out of someone. Cruel bastard. Conscienceless bastard.”
“That…” Hearing such harsh curses makes me feel conflicted. I definitely feel relieved and supported, but I also feel guilty somewhere inside. I laugh awkwardly and wave my hands dismissively.
“I’m fine. I know I was being unreasonable too. I also know that cutting things off cleanly like this was consideration from Chan’s perspective…”
“Consideration? Consideration? What consideration—did an ice age hit all of Korea and freeze all the consideration to death?”
“…You’re my friend, but you’re also Chan’s friend, Gam.”
That’s true. Chan and I have a connection that goes back about fifteen years, starting from the Sunflower class in kindergarten. And Gam Seonghan was also in the Sunflower class. Lee Chan is my childhood friend and simultaneously Gam Seonghan’s childhood friend.
“So what.” Of course, that’s not a particularly important detail to Gam Seonghan.
“If I’m taking sides, just stay quiet.”
“Yes.”
“And even if I wanted to take Lee Chan’s side—would he do that to someone else? Not just anyone, but to you? Was Lee Chan just any boyfriend to Yoo Sanho? That bastard who’s not ignorant of what that means…”
Suddenly, Gam Seonghan shoots up from his seat. The plastic chair scrapes against the concrete floor with a loud grinding sound.
“Ah. I can’t stand it, my insides are bursting.”
Leaving those words behind, he goes back into the convenience store and buys a bottle of soju. With a red cap, no less.
Gam Seonghan pours soju into his half-remaining beer can with glugging sounds, then holds up the green bottle at an angle.
“Cheers?”
We’ve already come to this convenience store as a second round after drinking a bottle each at a food stall…
“Cheers.”
Fine, whatever. Let’s drink ourselves to death.
Having split a bottle of soju between us, we clink our cans without any toast. The terribly proportioned beer-soju mix tastes absolutely awful. But I like the buzzing alcohol hitting me, so I pull up the corners of my mouth slightly.
Maybe if I get drunk, I’ll think about my ex a little less. Because of that meager hope, I’ve been drinking much more frequently over the past six months.
“That annoying bastard. When he was little, he at least had some cute charm. After growing up, he shot up tall like a bean sprout with just his head left proportional. He’s detestable. What’s the point of being handsome? His personality is like that.”
“But didn’t he get a bit better after growing up?”
“Oh please.”
“I’m serious… Anyway, I’m really fine, so don’t talk badly about Chan. I can’t help being blocked. I said earlier, right? I caused it too.”
“Spineless bastard. You got dumped overnight by a guy who did rebound dating, spent six months being pathetic, even got blocked, and you’re still taking his side. Yoo Sanho, don’t you have any self-respect?”
“I guess not…”
That’s why I got blocked after texting at 2 AM…
When I give an awkward smile, Gam Seonghan gulps down his drink and pounds his chest. The sound of him pounding with his pot-lid-sized hands is quite menacing.
“Oh my, how frustrating. My insides are bursting.”
“…”
“Yoo Sanho. Look at me.” He points straight at me. “When he dumped you, what did that bastard Lee Chan say?”
I dredge up the bitter memory from six months ago, not worn down in the slightest.
I found someone good, Sanho.
“He said he found someone good…”
“Did he say there was any possibility, or didn’t he?”
I want to try things with that person. That’s why we’re over. It means there’s no point in you clinging like this.
“Don’t pout. Is there any possibility or not?”
“…No.”
I quickly drink the tasteless alcohol. The hastily swallowed liquor gets stuck in my throat, making me cough. The sharp alcohol scent makes tears well up in my eyes.
“Who doesn’t know he said no? I know too…”
I was dumped by Lee Chan. For the reason that he found someone better than me, someone who had lived for ten years looking only at him.
Whether Yoo Sanho forgets Lee Chan or can’t forget him, whether I like him or resent him—it’s not Lee Chan’s concern.
That’s how it became. He easily organized the emotions that had connected us through friendship since age five and became love from age seventeen, cutting them off cleanly.
I couldn’t do it. I still can’t do it, which is why I’m being so pathetically exposed like this.
“I’ll forget him.” I put the words I’ve said hundreds of times on the tip of my tongue again. “This time I’ll really forget him.”
“Ugh, Yoo Sanho. Really… ugh.”
To make excuses, it’s because he was my first love. I’ve only ever liked Lee Chan my whole life. Whether he was a good person or not, whether he liked me or not, whether he was affectionate to me or treated me coldly—it didn’t matter.
I simply have never liked anyone other than Lee Chan. Because I’ve never experienced a time without Lee Chan. That’s why I can’t endure the season with him erased and keep losing my way.
Because Yoo Sanho is stupid. Because I was always slow at memorizing and learning everything. That’s why I need some time to engrave our breakup into my head too.
On the way home after forcing down the beer-soju mix, I take out my phone while staggering. Dozens of texts sent to Lee Chan but never delivered glow with pale light.
Are you sleeping? 1
What are you doing? 1
Are you out? 1
I miss you 1
Chan, I’m sorry 1
We’re still friends though… 1
Just let me see your face once 1
Are you okay without me? 1
What do I have to do for us to remain friends? 1
Are you getting along well with that person? 1
The number 1 next to the speech bubbles that never disappeared is resentful. It seems to show that in our relationship, he had left and now I’m alone.
My vision becomes hazy. I quickly blink to shake off the blurring tears and move my thumb busily.
I’m going to forget you now too, you bad bastard. 1
Then something unbelievable happens.
The numbers written in front of the dozens of texts I had sent disappear.
“…Huh?”
I’m so shocked that even my drunkenness flies away. I stop dead in my tracks. I even rub my eyes roughly with the back of my hand, thinking it might be a dream.
But they’re still gone.
I’m going to forget you now too, you bad bastard.
How long am I staring at that lie?
Hey
A reply comes.
Come do a program with me
From my ex-boyfriend who had dumped me six months ago and blocked me, telling me not to be pathetic.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
