Fake scenarios + one shots (y/n x h/n)

•Strangers to lovers•

I'm sitting in the subway again listening to my music. I look out of the window but barely see something. It's midnight and I'm driving home. Everytime I sit here my thoughts drift off to the most random words. I pull out my notebook and start writing

Hey stranger,
I miss you even tho I probably didn't meet you yet. My life isn't complete, there is a piece missing, a certain someone. Someone to love and someone who cares about me the same way I care about him. I want to scream stranger where are you? I dream of you lying next to me while talking about the most random stuff. Or maybe not talking at all. I want to go watching sunsets with you, all the couple stuff that seems so weird, so unfamiliar to me. I want my stranger. I look for him in every person, asking myself are you my stranger? Are you the one I'm looking for? But everytime I get disappointed. And it's sad because I can't do anything about it. There's no one who is going to tell me how to find him, there's no line I can walk along just to find him at the end. So I Wait. I spend time missing him, searching him. And maybe someday we walk into each other like it's fate. Or maybe not, maybe we don't know that we're each other's strangers until we realize.
Until I can say these words to you, telling you I finally reached the end of the line and found you.

I look up feeling good now that I finally wrote down all my thoughts. It's always relieving to have them written down, like they are not in my head anymore, instead just on the paper.

One hour until I'm home I fall asleep and set my timer so I don't pass my stop, because this actually happened to me once and i wouldn't like to repeat that experience.

I get out of the train, putting all my things into my bag, as soon as I arrive home I drop myself onto my bed, not even bothered to change my clothes into a Pyjama I just fall asleep.

The next morning is like everyday, and the day after that and after that. I'm waiting for something truly special to happen but it never really does. Sure there are good days and not so good ones, days where I go out and days where I do absolutely nothing. But it is all the same.

I open the post box in front of my house, most letters are unimportant so I just toss them onto my coffee table. But one is different, it says to the subway stranger on the back, with my address on the front. Weird.

I open the envelope careful, inside is a paper written in neat hand writing.

Hey stranger,
I found your book at the train station. I hope you are not mad at me for reading what you wrote inside, I really tried to stop myself from doing so. But as soon as I read the first letter I had to read everything else. I have no idea who you are wich makes everything even more interesting, like a mystery. I mean I probably already saw you dozens of times, considering we wait at the same train station. It's a weird feeling to write this letter to you now, not knowing if you will ever receive it, but hopefully the address from inside your book is not wrong. If you do receive it answer me, I still have your book with all these amazing letters inside, I'm sure you would like them back, I will keep them for you and even if u don't want them back I will keep them. These words are truly beautiful, my favorite one is the „stranger" one, who knows maybe it's fate that I found your book out of all the million people that are waiting there everyday as well.

I hope to hear from you soon :)

I read the letter over and over again. Someone found my book, and that someone read all my letters and thoughts. And he liked it.
He even put his name next to his address at the bottom. I could just go to his house and pick up my book. Or I could write him a letter back. There is this weird feeling inside of me that this might be a truly important moment. That this might be one of the moments I've written about, this could be fate that he found my letter. I mean it's really special that he put in all of this effort into sending me a letter, after reading through my entire book, instead of just throwing it away or sending it back to this address.
He could be anyone and I'm really not sure if that's a good or a bad thing.