Ripped Love Letters / Isagi Yoichi

I

Isagi Yoichi is a fucking loser.

In many more ways than one, no matter how you (they) see him-- he's always alone. Whether it be in the cafeteria, the classroom, or in soccer practice, you can find him being the odd person in a group of three after being forced to join by the teacher.

Being alone isn't bad, it definitely has its perks. His grades are based on what he's accomplished, not what his partner forgot to do for the project. He gets private time to himself in a school with more than 800 students.

So today, after finding a pink crinkled envelope in his locker, he sat down on a cold metal chair in the art room, alone in a room meant for 30.

He expected a joke, a rough handwriting from a guy in his grade. Maybe even a signature scribbled in the corner, or a delinquents group crest. Instead, he was greeted by thin letters and lengthy paragraphs.

"I'm sort of in love with you."

A snort leaves his lips, he has to laugh at the lined paper. It's a joke-- it's the most obvious thing in the world to him. With a sigh of content, he reads on.

"No joke, I'm serious. You might think this is a prank; a cruel joke. But it's not, my feelings are genuine as your love for soccer."

Oh. The words after that are clouded with grey eraser marks and smudges, but it's so clear in his eyes he doesn't even pay any mind to it.

"I have trouble understanding many things, but one thing about you is easy to get.

The way you look at fresh green grass as if it were a meal after starving, or how you stare out the window in class when it's raining sporting a frown because you don't like playing in mud makes it easy to understand you.

Soccer really means lots to you, does it not?"

It doesn't come as a surprise to him that other people know about his passion for the sport, but he is slightly freaked at the detailed description of what they see him do. Though, for whatever reason, a warm feeling pools in his chest and spreads to his face, his heart beating a little faster than before.

"Do I sound in love? Yeah! That's the point! I write this to get rid of my feelings by sending a series of letters to you, that probably won't change a damn thing about my stupid little crush.

Maybe this is annoying to you, and me noticing these things is strange and creepy to you. If that's the case-- my bad, Isagi."

If he could tell whoever wrote this that it was alright, he would. He'd thank them and subtly ask them to send more. Maybe it's the comfort he gets from reading the smooth handwriting.

"In any case, please do throw these away if they make you uncomfortable. It's the last thing I'd want to make you feel.

Alright! If you're still reading this, it's because you like these. I'm glad! On a more serious note, I'm so in love with you!

Oh my god.

Something about the way your hair swishes when you turn your head, or the way you hum classical music under your breath just makes me attracted to you.

I don't know why, but you seem so lovable. You seem vibrant, which sucks because people dismiss you as uninteresting for wanting to ramble about soccer. One day, I swear on everything that you'll be able to go on and on about your favorite team and players."

Isagi decides that he likes this person, they seem friendly in a way he hasn't seen or experienced.

"I'll listen, ask questions, and remember. Of course, once I have the courage to confess we'll probably be pushing our 60's. Well, who knows, really. Sometimes I get random bursts of confidence and do dumb shit that gets me in trouble.

I bet you're the same."

No, no he isn't. He laughs softly and leans back in the chair, 't isn't like that at all.'

Notes: 

re-wrote this chapter again lol