Letters
Requested by me being inspired at an unholy hour in the morning. The Korean description says he's male so that's what I'm using-
Pretty sure this is the first time I reached chapter 10 on a book. There are illustration sketches of previous oneshots at the bottom for celebration.
I'm gonna put that emoji on chapters with drawings at the end, which I plan to be every 10th.
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Finding notes attached to the outside of your window is always concerning. Now imagine how concerning it would be if you lived on the sixth floor.
Well (Y/N) didn't necessarily have to imagine, as they had been dealing with this anomaly for a pretty long time. Before, every morning they awakened to the sun shining through their window and hitting them right in their eyes, causing them to wake up earlier than intended. Then one morning, it didn't happen. Did the sun go out? They thought at first. Apparently not. Upon investigation, they found a piece of paper lovingly taped to the glass of their window, casting a shadow to shield their eyes from the morning sun. It was one of those sticky notes with embroidery patterns printed at the edges in pale blue. The note simply read Good Morning! in cursive.
After getting over the initial shock, the cookie was promptly freaked out, and understandably so. They were being watched, apparently. The notes continued appearing every morning. The first few days they walked the streets in absolute terror, expecting an ambush. They often called up a friend to walk with them when they could. They contemplated calling the police, but honestly would they believe them if they said they were finding letters on the outside of the window of their sixth floor apartment?
After a few weeks, their fear was reduced to caution. They still called friends to walk with them, but less often. They simply glanced behind sometimes before turning corners.
As time wore on, they started realising just how harmless these little messages were. Simply wishing them good morning, sometimes reminding them to dress warmly before going outside, or to take an umbrella when it looked like it would rain. They actually thought it was cute, eventually. So after a month of silently recieving these little notes, they answered.
Before bed, they wrote up a small letter for their anonymous friend. They wished them good morning this time. They asked how they were doing, and warned them to dress lighter for the pleasant heatwave the news announced for the following afternoon. They attached the note to the glass with a strong piece of tape to withstand the winds outside, and eagerly went to bed with a smile.
The next morning,the sun woke them up. Their note was missing, but there was nothing in it's place. Entirely heartbroken, they theorised that the wind still managed to whip their letter away before their friend could find it, and that day was simply the day they gave up on trying to talk. They lost their penpal before they could even start an honest conversation, it was horrible!
Of course that's not what happened.
From the "anonymous friend's" perspective, it was just another morning. He wrote up a small note to leave for his dear jewel, and left his manor with a smile. This was routine at this point.
He first layed eyes on them at a banquet hosted in the town hall to celebrate the anniversary of founding. He wasn't necessarily there to steal something this time, mind you. When he saw them, they were dancing with someone, twirling eachother around in a fit of childish laughter. It brought a smile to his face. He only realised he'd been staring when their friend nudged them, and they turned towards him in curiosity. He was rather close to just snapping his attention somewhere else, but that wouldn't be him, would it? He responded to the questioning gaze with a soft smile and a wink, leaving the other cookie a tad flustered. They shuffled behind their friend and hid, peeking over their shoulder. It was adorable.
They talked, exchanged names, shared a few drinks, and just had fun at the party. Though in the end he never managed to ask them for a dance, and he was rather upset. He has developed a crush in the span of a single evening and he wasn't even embarrassed about it. So he did what any slightly gravity defying thief would do: stalk them.
That. That he was not proud of.
But in his defence, it was only a mild case without any sort of ill intent, lasting only a few days to note places they liked so he could ask them out sometime. Finding out where they lived was an honest accident.
And a few days after said accident, he stopped following them. That's when he started leaving notes at their window. Nothing else. He had decency. And thus he never knew just how scared they were because of him. He just kept happily delivering small letters every morning with a smile, never disheartened by their lack of an answer.
So imagine his shock when he arrived one morning to find that there was an answer this time. He took the note with tender hands as he balanced on the windowsill, reading it over with a gradually widening smile of pure glee. The measly good morning note he prepared was no longer sufficient. Deciding to answer properly in the evening instead, he gently pocketed the received letter and fled the scene.
-
And that was just about a year ago. They kept up this writing back and forth business for that long without actually meeting. Considering Roguefort's original intention of asking them out, that was a shock. Though within that time, the mere crush he had on them after that fateful evening grew into something else. He was slowly yet surely falling head over heels, and he was okay with that.
They talked about a lot of things. Their notes and letters became longer, sometimes double sided, explaining the happenings of their day to eachother and venting about misfortune when it struck. Reading eachother's writing became a source of comfort.
And so one morning, the note
(Y/N) received was a confession. Their heart skipped beats as they read over each line of flowery rambling. They realised there was a sort of intimacy to their little routine. Going out of their way to write eachother letter after letter, awaiting each answer with a sort of eager impatience. They once ran out of things to write with, so they resulted to carving their words into the paper with the tip of a box cutter. They wouldn't have been able to sleep otherwise. The answer to that letter was accompanied by a fancy, although half empty fountain pen taped to their windowsill.
They wrote up a response. The contents of the letter were overwhelmingly positive, a confession in it's own right.
That morning at dawn the man did arrive, snatching the letter up and replacing it with the one he wrote in excitement. He wanted to unfold it and read it right then and there, but he knew better than to hang around sitting in plain sight when he was a wanted man. Once his good morning letter was secured, he flew off, back to his manor. Upon arrival he immediately threw himself on the nearest cushioned surface and got the letter into his hands.
...he had to read it twice. He needed a moment to get over the initial whiplash of his affections actually being returned, but ultimately ended up with pure joy written clearly in his expression.
That evening he arrived with the moon, and curiously found the window wide open. He assumed it was because of the weather getting warmer. He had brought nothing but a rose for them this time. He was about to place the flower down on the small cupboard just under the window to protect it from the winds when his arm was grabbed by the shadows. He was dragged into the room with a yelp, landing on the floor.
He got back to his senses in a heartbeat, opening his mouth to speak, but ultimately swallowed his words when a pair of hands cupped his face.
"So it was you."
"That it was."
"All of this from a single meeting?"
"You are worth the trouble, my jewel."
Warmth. A kiss. Careful, yet gentle as the strokes with which they wrote their letters.
-
Okay skitch time-
I hope you appreciate
Reader Cookie as much as I do. Such a bean.
✨♥️✨