Rejecting My Sweetheart
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“I’m sorry, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You’re a good person and you deserve someone better than me,” I added quickly as she started to protest. She looked at me with sad eyes that made it clear how much this hurt her.
She was the girl who had been so kind to me when no one else would be around—the girl whose smile always brightened up my day even if our conversations were short or awkward because they didn’t know what to say about me. Her name is Anya, and for some reason, I can never get enough of talking to her.
But now things are different; I’ve realized there’s nothing more between us besides friendship, and it doesn’t feel right to have feelings like those toward another woman. It feels wrong! And yet…it also feels wonderful. So why do I keep doing this? Why am I hurting myself over something that makes me happy?!
Anya seemed stunned by my sudden rejection and just stared back at me in silence after I spoke. After several long seconds passed without any response from either of us, she finally broke eye contact with me and turned away. Then she walked off into the distance, leaving behind only a faint trace of perfume lingering in the air.
As soon as I saw her leave, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. Now maybe everything will go back to normal again. Maybe I’ll start seeing people differently, too. People won’t have to worry about being ostracized anymore. They can all relax knowing that I’m not going to reject anyone ever again. I’d make sure everyone knows that I’m gay and proud of it. That way, nobody has anything to fear.
But then I thought: What if I really did end up falling in love with Anya someday? Would I still want to tell her? Or would I choose to stay silent forever?
The answer was obvious. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I went through life pretending to be straight while secretly loving another woman. If I loved someone, I wanted them to know. I knew that one day, I might fall in love with a girl and need to come out of the closet. And I needed to prepare myself mentally for that moment. I couldn’t afford to let my emotions cloud my judgment, though.
So I took out my phone and scrolled down until I found Anya’s number. Before I pressed send, however, I paused briefly. Was I ready to take such an important step? Could I handle telling her how I truly felt?
After thinking it over carefully, I decided I wasn’t quite prepared yet. There was still time before I had to face reality head-on. For now, I figured I’d wait and see how things played out. Perhaps I could find a solution that worked well for both of us instead.
And so I ended up waiting two whole weeks before calling Anya. We hadn’t spoken since our last conversation, which meant I didn’t know whether she already suspected I liked girls. In fact, I wasn’t even certain if she remembered me. When I called, she picked up immediately.
“Hello?” she asked tentatively.
I cleared my throat nervously. “Hi, um…” I began, trying to sound casual.
“…It’s me. Sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while.”
There was no reply from Anya. Instead, she continued listening silently for several moments. Finally, she sighed softly. “…Okay,” she said quietly.
That sounded promising. Had she taken my confession seriously? Did she accept me? I tried to hide my excitement, but I guess I failed miserably.
“Um, listen, I—” I stammered awkwardly.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard what happened with your parents. Are they okay now?”
Oh crap, I forgot all about that! I almost hung up right then and there. Thankfully, I managed to hold back.
“They’re fine now. Thanks for asking!” I replied hastily.
Then I waited anxiously for her next question.
“Well, uh, I hope you guys can work things out. You seem pretty close to them, y’know?”
Wait, what? How does she know about that? I glanced at my screen and noticed that she must have seen my mom’s photo on Facebook. Apparently, she recognized her.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we are.”
What else could I possibly say? I didn’t want to lie to her, but it would be weird to admit that I actually hated my family. Besides, she probably assumed my mother was dead anyway since I rarely posted photos of her online. So why should I bother explaining the truth when she already knew? It was better this way.
“Anyway, sorry to interrupt. See ya later!” I said cheerfully, cutting the call short.
Just like that, I avoided having to talk about my feelings. My plan worked perfectly. She never got a chance to ask me more questions or try to get me to open up. All she heard was my cheerful voice saying goodbye, and that was enough for her to assume I was completely over the incident.
For some reason, I couldn’t help feeling disappointed afterward. But I forced myself to push those thoughts aside and focus on other matters.
Now that I’d successfully hidden my true identity from Anya, I started seeing her around town much less frequently. Whenever we ran into each other, she always looked nervous and uncomfortable whenever we were alone together. Eventually, she stopped coming to school altogether. Even though I missed talking to her every day, I understood why she left. The best thing for both of us was to keep our relationship strictly platonic—at least until I came clean and told her who I really was.
In retrospect, I’m not sure if I made the right decision. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept lying to her after I fell in love with her. After all, I knew deep down that I cared deeply for her. Why did I feel so compelled to pretend otherwise just because society expected me to?
As far as I was concerned, it didn’t matter whether Anya ever learned the truth. As long as I remained faithful to my promise, I could continue living a happy life without worrying about anyone finding out. And despite everything, I believed that was exactly what I wanted most.
But it turned out I was wrong.
***
The following Monday morning, I woke up early and headed downstairs to make breakfast. While I was cooking, my dad suddenly appeared behind me. He sat down across from me, placed his elbows on the table, and leaned forward intently.
“Hey, son,” he said gently. “How’ve you been lately?”
My heart skipped a beat. What is Dad doing here?! I thought frantically. This isn’t good…
He stared straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to my sudden panic. Then, very slowly, he reached out and took one of my hands in his own. His touch felt warm against my skin, sending shivers through my body. Instinctively, I pulled away slightly, but he held firm, refusing to let go.
“Dad?!” I exclaimed. “Why are you touching me?”
His gaze shifted to meet mine, and I saw an expression of concern pass over his face. With a gentle smile, he released my hand and stood up.
“Sorry. I had no idea how upset you were getting these past few days, so I figured I’d come to check on you. I’m glad I caught you before anything serious happened.”
I nodded dumbly. Wasn’t this the same man who’d yelled at me just last week? Now he was acting like nothing was wrong between us?
“Listen, I know you don’t want to hear any of this, but I think you need to understand where Mom and I stand. We’re still trying to figure out what went wrong, so please give us time to do that. Okay?”
That sounded suspiciously like something my father would say. Did he seriously expect me to believe him?
“No, I’m sorry. That’s not going to happen.”
“Please, just wait a little longer. Please…”
With that, he walked toward the door. Before leaving, however, he paused briefly, turning around to look at me once again.
“Son,” he whispered softly, “don’t worry about us anymore.”
Then he disappeared outside.
After watching him leave, I slumped back in my chair and sighed heavily. It wasn’t fair! Why did they have to treat me like I was crazy? If only I hadn’t gotten involved with Anya, none of this would have happened. At least then I wouldn’t be stuck dealing with such emotional turmoil.
And yet, even now that I was free of Anya, my parents continued to ignore me entirely. They refused to acknowledge my existence, which meant there was absolutely no point in continuing to live under their roof. So I packed my things and moved out.
It was hard to find another place to stay since I was unemployed. Thankfully, my friend Riko offered me shelter in exchange for helping her with odd jobs around the house. Since I lived nearby anyway, it seemed like an easy arrangement to accept.
Riko and I became fast friends during our first year of high school. Like me, she also grew up in a single-parent household, and she often confided in me when she needed someone to talk to. She was kindhearted and considerate, and I loved spending time with her. Our friendship quickly developed into something more romantic, and eventually, we began dating.
Unfortunately, our romance ended shortly thereafter due to a misunderstanding. In hindsight, I should never have taken her feelings for granted. Because of that, I lost the person closest to me, and I’ll regret it forever.
Although I tried to put the incident behind me, my lingering guilt prevented me from moving on completely. Over time, I gradually withdrew further and further away from everyone else. Eventually, I found myself alone in a dark room, staring vacantly at the ceiling while the walls closed in around me.
Eventually, I realized that I couldn’t keep hiding from reality. I needed to get out of bed and start making plans for the future. But how could I possibly move forward with my life knowing full well that I’d hurt the people who mattered most to me?
Despite my best efforts, I simply couldn’t forgive myself.
Until recently, I never imagined I might end up homeless or starving to death on the streets someday. Yet here I am, living in a cramped attic above a ramen shop. The owner, Mr. Teshigawara, has given me permission to use the space rent-free as long as I help out occasionally by cleaning tables and washing dishes.
To avoid attracting too much attention, I usually try to blend in with the other customers whenever possible. However, today I decided to sit at a table near the counter instead. After all, if anyone asks why I’m sitting there, I can always claim that I wanted to watch the chef cook.
As I sat down, I noticed that the kitchen doors were open, letting me catch a glimpse of the chefs working inside. One of them looked familiar… Wait, is that…?
Sure enough, it was Anya. She was wearing a white coat and standing next to the stove, stirring some sort of bubbling liquid with a wooden spoon. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore glasses similar to those worn by many female teachers at my old school. When I glanced over to see her reaction, however, I immediately turned away.
Anya was looking right at me.
She smiled brightly, as though she knew exactly what I was thinking. Then, without saying a word, she returned to her work.
My heart pounded wildly in my chest. Had she seen through me after all? Or maybe she recognized me because I was one of the regulars at her restaurant? Either way, I felt guilty for spying on her, so I got up and left.
The rest of my day passed uneventfully. Once night fell, however, everything changed.
I heard footsteps coming closer and turned around to face whoever had entered the store. I didn’t recognize the man approaching me—he appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He was tall and thin, sporting short black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His clothes were simple but clean, and he carried himself with confidence.
When the stranger came within earshot, I asked, “Can I help you?”
He stopped abruptly, took off his sunglasses, and squinted at me. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting to encounter anyone inside the building.
“Oh, sorry about that,” I said. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”
His expression softened slightly. “No problem. You just caught me by complete accident. My name’s Kojou Akatsuki. What’s yours?”
Kojou Akatsuki. That sounded vaguely familiar. Was this guy connected to the incident at Anya’s restaurant?
Before I could ask anything further, however, a voice called out from behind us: “Hey, are you two related somehow?!”
A moment later, a girl with shoulder-length brown hair rushed toward us. Judging by her outfit, she must’ve been part of the staff.
“…You’re Akatsuki, aren’t you?! Why did you come here, of all places?!”
Her eyes widened upon seeing me. It seemed like she hadn’t expected to run into me again. Even so, her tone remained polite. Perhaps she was still trying to maintain decorum despite her shock.
“Huh? Oh, uh…”
I racked my brain desperately for an excuse. If only I had some kind of evidence proving we weren’t related! Unfortunately, I didn’t even know where to begin searching for proof.
All I managed to say before being interrupted once more was “…Well, um…we used to go to the same school together!”
That was technically true, although I’d hardly consider it convincing. Plus, I’d already told her that story earlier today.
Still, it was better than nothing. At least now I wouldn’t have to answer any awkward questions.
“School… Huh?”
Now that she mentioned it, I suddenly remembered something else.
This girl reminded me of someone. A classmate named Nagisa. Could it really be her? No, no… This couldn’t be happening…
Nagisa was probably dead. Killed by Yukina Himeragi during the battle between Academy City and the White Legion. Not only that, but she died saving my life. So why would I ever meet her again…?
Suddenly, I recalled another person I met at school. Someone who resembled Nagisa very closely. But that woman was also gone forever. And yet, I found myself meeting with both of their doppelgängers. How strange.
There was only one explanation.
Someone had cast a spell on me.
The End