Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warning: This is yaoi.
Summary: Sena wasn't sure what a love letter should look like.
Sena wasn't certain how the letter thing started.
They weren't really letters. More like notes, on torn pieces of paper and folded squares. One was even on a small sheet of origami paper, which got him a crooked smile.
Little things. Want to eat lunch together? Do you want to go out for ramen today? Are you busy? Later he became bolder, like Do you want to come over? or I want to see the new movie! Sena kept it simple, because it was hard to write so neatly all the time, and because he wasn't sure how to write a real letter. What would he talk about? What was there that Sena didn't already tell him in person that could go on a sheet of paper?
The first time he wrote Do you want to stay over again?, Sena felt his face flush and wondered what made a love letter.
He tried adding I miss you.
No reaction, except a dark, flashing glance that Sena couldn't interpret. At least he hadn't been laughed at.
And he did come over, that night. Though he didn't say anything about it.
The next time, Sena wrote I wish I were with you instead of in class.
Nothing to that—except, again, that look, as they passed each other in the hallway, Kurita-san and Monta being too loud for anything more.
Was he embarrassed?
Sena was embarrassed. Wasn't it a really girly thing to do, to write notes to your—your something. They hadn't talked about it, and Sena wondered if it was time for that discussion. Then he wondered if that kind of thing was all right to bring up in a note.
He tried writing What are we doing?, and then tore it up as being too needy.
Sena had probably embarrassed him. What guy liked getting love notes from another guy? And if someone had happened to see it, either the note or Sena slipping it into his hand, his bag, his desk—ah. Sena had been stupid.
He tore up the note he'd begun writing, I want to see you.
That night, Sena couldn't meet his eye during practice and then went straight home with Monta instead of waiting. His phone rang once, but he didn't pick it up. It didn't ring again.
It wasn't as if Sena was upset. He was just—bothered. Apprehensive. He felt slightly as if he'd done something wrong, only he didn't know what—or how to fix it. Just a vague, restless feeling that he couldn't put out of his mind, a question he couldn't answer. What am I doing? What are we doing?
No practice the next morning. Sena went to class early instead of going to the clubhouse to drink a Pocari Sweat with—people. He hadn't slept well, and was feeling tired and achy.
When he looked in his desk, he found three folded pieces of paper. Just that. He glanced around, alarmed, but there were only a few people in the classroom and no one was watching.
Feeling light-headed, Sena opened them.
Gen is thinking about you.
Gen thinks about you all the time.
Gen thinks you should just be his boyfriend and not date anyone else.
Sena bit his lip. A pressure he hadn't known was there was easing in his chest, and his eyes felt hot.
What manly handwriting.
He folded a small square of green origami paper.
Sena feels kind of dumb.