a/n: I apparently have a habit for making collections haha;; anyway, this is the OTP of the series and I just want more fics of them. So here's some drabbles/oneshots that will usually be inspired by prompts or anything really.

~Letters~

Genis was never one to write letters. He could write essays of all kinds, thorough analyses of any subject his sister could imagine, critique any given book, even write one if given enough time. There were so many things he could write, but letters were a completely different matter.

They were nothing like the academic papers he was used to. Letters were supposed to be filled with emotion, personal feelings. Essays could, in a sense, if one was truly passionate but it wasn't the same.

You couldn't put love into an essay like you could a letter, could you?

He didn't know the answer to that. Part of him wanted to argue that it was possible, depending on one's opinion of love. Though he found that it would just circle back to how heated one was over such a subject, or person.

It was a shame that love could never be taught; this was something that had to be learned. Through one's own experience no less.

Genis had experienced love. Not once, but twice. He thinks he did anyway. Love was something…something he could not explain. It baffled him at times, confused him, made him question his sanity.

Was he even in love at all?

"Raine…how do you know when you're...in love?"

It had been an embarrassing question to ask. The memory of it was so vivid, his cheeks would even blush to a simple thought of it. His mind always raced to one person, other than his sister, when he thought back on that, when he thought back on that question.

Mithos.

Raine did not have an answer, not one that he found useful anyway. She was inexperienced as well. The type of love she was truly familiar with was familial love. That was different. Yet, he knew what that kind of love was.

Romantic love, was a different story.

So, how was he supposed to write a heartfelt letter?

Lloyd told him to write what came to mind, even if it was just nonsense, keep it short. Colette suggested writing fond memories, ones that could be relived through writing. Sheena had answered by just being blunt, be yourself. Zelos…he had given the most typical response, over romanticize everything, make it fancy and never stop spouting the word 'love'. Regal had a more formal suggestion, making it almost sound like he should be asking for a meeting or even a hand in marriage.

Genis never asked Presea. Nor did he ask Raine.

He tried taking their suggestions into consideration. They all seemed good in their own way. But they didn't suit him, he thought. He would have to try and write something more him, more Genis-like.

There had been papers, ripped, smashed, crumpled up, filling up the floor of his room. It was difficult to even start writing. And when his pen had reached half the page, he couldn't decide if what he had done was acceptable.

To be formal or not? To be romantic or innocent? To ramble or get straight to the point? To say everything on his mind or hold back? He felt that he had at least written every kind of letter there was by the time he had reached his second pack.

Genis never gave up. He was intent on writing the perfect letter. Perfect in its own way.

It took days, months to finally settle upon the one true letter. He nearly threw it away along with the others. It was imperfect when he had gone over it the night before. Yet, he found it captivating upon giving it a second chance.

This was the letter. The one that he would give to Mithos.

So much effort had gone into this. Was it good enough? Would he like it? What would he think about his lack of romantic vocabulary? Maybe it was a little to formal. Maybe it was too mature for him.

And maybe, just maybe, it was perfect.

Nevertheless, Genis was proud. It was one that he had written. It was only his voice, his thoughts, his emotions, his heart poured into ink and turned words into a meaningful message. It made him happy. But, only one thought, one cold reminder could cause his joy to come crashing down in a single moment.

The intended recipient would never get to read it.