Lovely Letter
The weight of the textbook swings loosely in your hand, flopping side to side as you half-walk, half-drift out of lecture. The class had been long, unnecessarily dense, and full of words you barely remember now. But at least it’s over now, the worst of the week is done and your hump day can actually get started.
“Yo!”
You glance upwards, seeing your friend, Cam, already by the vending machines, back leaned against the glass like it owed him rent, sipping on an orange Gatorade.
“You look like that textbook’s been beating your ass,” Cam laughs, nodding to the book.
You glance down at it—the dense, overpriced slab of knowledge still swinging in your grip like a towel. “Shit, it’s been fucking me up since classes started. Damn Gen-Eds.”
“Tell me about it!”
He daps you up as the two of you meet, and exchange that kind of smile that said we survived yet another Wednesday.
“You still down for the rec center?” he asks, already knowing the answer.
“Always,” You grin, tucking the textbook under your arm and rolling your neck. “I gotta work off the trauma of this class somehow.”
The two turn toward the hallway, steps in sync, voices low and lazy as you two crack jokes and swap stories. You barely even noticed the figure turning the corner in front of you until—
bump.
It hits the floor with a dramatic slap, pages flaring open, cover facing up like a casualty of war.
Textbook down.
“Shit—sorry,” you mutter immediately, instinctively throwing up your hands in surrender and apology but…
The figure didn’t say anything.
It just stood there.
When your eyes finally focus, you see that the it you crashed into is actually a her. Long, snow-white hair catching the soft glow of the overhead fluorescents, head tilted down in quiet observation. Her face is unreadable. Cold, but not cruel. Like she was in the middle of a different conversation altogether—one she hadn’t invited you into.
Then, with a movement too smooth to be spontaneous, she kneels down. Fingertips grazing the edge of your fallen book, she dusts it off with a delicate swipe of her palm. Her thumb flicks through the pages, and does a spine check along with an inspection of each corner.
Snap. She closed it firmly.
“It didn’t get bent out of shape,” she states, finally handing it back to you. “Be careful. It’s expensive.”
You blink, taking the book from her as if still catching up to the moment.
“Uh… right.”
Your attention aims downwards towards the book. Your fingers brush over the textbook’s spine—and that’s when you notice it.
A piece of paper. White. Folded. Neatly tucked between the pages of the book. It stuck out just enough to be seen.
That wasn’t there before.
You look up, “Thanks…” but she’s already walking away. No smile. No goodbye. Just the soft tap of her shoes against the linoleum, trailing down toward the stairwell with that same detached grace.
(Y/N)’s friend let out a low whistle. “Damn. Who was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“She’s kinda scary. But like, elegant scary. Like ‘read your soul’ scary.”
You don’t respond right away, just looking back down at the paper sticking out of your all too expensive textbook.
“Orrrr… ‘Steal your heart’ scary apparently.” He lets out a chuckle.
You snap out of it. “What?! Nah, you’re crazy.”
“Sure dude, whatever you say!” He stretches his arms behind his head before taking a few steps away from you. “Anyway, that gatorade has fully worked through me. Let me use the bathroom then we can get going.”
You nod your head. “Weak bladder ass.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
You watch as Cam kicks the door open and spins into the bathroom, shooting a finger gun at you before the door closes.
“Timing couldn’t be more perfect.”
You look down both ends of the hallway. Nothing but the soft hum of vending machines and the stale smell of floor wax. No sign of her. No answers.
“As much as I hate late classes, it does give you ample room to be alone.”
You pull the paper free and unfold it slowly.
Each crease feels heavier than it should. Like peeling back the beginning of something you can’t stop once it’s started.
At first, there’s nothing but silence in your mind. No clever quips. No sarcastic commentary. Just your eyes moving across ink.
The handwriting is neat. Strikingly so.
Italicized strokes with small embellishments on the capitals, like whoever wrote this didn’t just write—they composed.
I’ve written this letter to you due to no fault but your own. You see, you’ve made it very hard… I thought it might subside. But you’ve only made it harder. It’s made continuing my studies difficult. So, I’ve decided to resolve it in person.
There’s no name.
No “To” or “From.”
Just a small, final line at the bottom right corner in slightly smaller print:
Room 2-107. Same Building. 7:00pm. Be prompt.
You stare at the paper like it might change if you blink.
Only, it doesn’t.
Your hand falls slowly to your side, the letter now fluttering gently against your leg like it’s breathing.
Room 2-107.
Your next breath comes out sharper than expected.
“What the hell…” You lean back against the wall. “Is this a love confession?”
You think to yourself how insane this is. A confession letter? In college?! That’s the type of thing that only happens in high school, not in University.
“Who even is she?”
You take a moment to run through your mind searching for any memory, no matter how faint, of the mysterious white hair girl that has suddenly set her sights on you.
“Ah!”
That’s when it hits you.
You snap your fingers once, softly, as if doing so helps piece it all together.
Sanae Tsukishiro.
The name drops into your head like a smooth stone in still water.
You’ve seen her.
Once, maybe twice?
Maybe more.
Never front row, never absent. Always there, always… distant. She’s the kind of person who sits near the window but never looks out of it. Takes notes, never asks questions. People don’t talk to her, at least not that you’ve ever seen. She always seemed to be the studious type, never taking time to enjoy the other parts of college everyone else does so casually.
In fact, you only remember her name because of that presentation she gave for extra credit a couple weeks ago.
She was the only one who took that extra credit.
You look down at the letter again.
And somehow, you were the one she wrote this to. You can’t help but think about why she’s aiming for you of all people.
“What is she thinking anyway? 7:00pm is in less than an hour!” You throw your hands up in disbelief. “What if I didn’t even notice this pale ass white paper hanging out of my textbook? What if I just tossed it in my bag right after getting it back?!”
“Ah shit, you got a love letter or something?” Cam appears beside you as if he learned to teleport.
“The hell did you come from?!” You jump, startled, before narrowing your eyes. “Wait… did you even wash your hands?”
His eyes glide over to the folded paper in your hand. “Damn, you fucking did! Good shit, Y/N!”
“You didn’t answer my question…”
“Why would I wash my hands, I got a clean dick?”
“That’s not—”
He snatches the letter from your hand, unfolding it with a dramatic gasp like he’s opening a will.
You lunge. “Dude, come on!”
“Relax,” he says, eyes darting across the page. “I ain’t about to read your love letter out loud… this isn’t grade school.”
His expression shifts as he reads, eyebrows slowly knitting together.
“This is… weirdly formal,” he mutters. “Who the hell writes like this? ‘I’ve decided to resolve it in person’? Sounds like a court summons, not a confession.”
“Right?!” You grab it back before he can crease it anymore. “It’s like someone handed me an emotional subpoena.”
Cam laughs at that, a short bark of amusement. “So who is she?”
You hesitate for a moment, still trying to decide whether saying her name aloud makes this more real.
“Sanae Tsukishiro,” you finally say.
Cam blinks once.
Twice.
Three times.
“Okay, so I probably shouldn’t have acted like I would know who the fuck that is.”
“The chick with the long white hair, dumbass!” You stifle a yell.
Cam stares blankly at you for a few moments, then he looks up as if trying to read the ceiling for answers to a pop quiz.
You give him some time to get his wheels turning.
“Ohhhhhhhh! The one that you ran into!” He finally gets it. “Damn, that’s kinda hot.”
“What?”
“Mysterious. Observant. Writes like an android sent by Cyberlife. I’m into it.”
“You’re not the one she’s calling into a classroom after hours.”
“Exactly,” he grins. “I’d be careful though. ‘Be prompt’ sounds more like a command than a request. She might do something violent if you stand her up.”
“I doubt that.” You roll your eyes but can’t help glancing back down at the folded letter. The classroom number. The time. “I honestly don’t know if I should go.”
Cam shrugs. “Well, you could ignore it. Toss it. Go to the rec center like we planned.”
A pause.
“Or…” he smirks, “you could see what this little opportunity has to offer. Find out what it is she wants to resolve… in person.”
You groan. “Don’t say it like that.”
“I’m just reading the vibe, guy”
You tuck the letter carefully into your pocket, the paper crinkling against the fabric.
“Did you… really not wash your hands?”
Cam looks at you like you’re stupid.
“Of course I did.” He shakes his head at you. “Now who’s being a dumbass? Don’t worry, I didn’t get any private germs on your precious little love note.”
You exhale, thinking back to the letter again for a moment.
Resolve it in person.
Those four words loop in your mind like a screensaver. Not meet me, not talk to me, not even confess something to you.
Resolve.
What does she even want to resolve? What tension is she feeling that you apparently caused just by existing? You barely know her. You’ve never even had a conversation with her outside of maybe handing her a scantron once. So how did you end up here?
“Uh… Y/N?” Cam waves his hand in front of your face. “Come back down from your fantasy…”
You sigh again and cover your face with your forearm. Everything about this feels way more serious than it has any right to be. It’s college. People hook up, break up, get drunk, and forget their IDs. A handwritten note shouldn’t have this much gravity. And yet, it feels like it does.
You can’t help but linger on the way she looked at and interacted with you in the hallway. Calm. Measured. Like she’d already made her decision and you were just now catching up to it.
No one’s ever looked at you like that before.
“Hmmm… Well… this is getting awkward...”
You could ignore it. Hit the gym, let the clock hit seven, play a few rounds of Apex, and never speak of it again.
But something tells you that if you don’t go… you’ll keep thinking about this. About her. About why she picked you of all people.
Resolve it in person.
Resolve.
Resolve.
Resolve it.
What is it?
“Michael!” Cam grabs hold of your shoulders and violently shakes you back and forth. “Don’t leave me here! Michael! Michael! Help me-”
“WHO THE HELL IS MICHAEL?!” You yell out in protest. “Release me!”
“Ah good, you were absent for a bit.” Cam unhands you with a chuckle. “Look dude, its obvious you want to see where this goes so just fucking go.”
Your eyes meet his and he gives you a nod.
“I can keep the machines warm until you get there.”
“Alright.” You dap him up once more. “Thanks man.”
“Don’t worry about it!” He throws his bag over his back and starts jogging towards the exit. “Fill me in when you get there! If you don’t show, I’ll make an assumption about what she wanted to resolve.”
“Shut up.”
