SECRET ADMIRER ( ryuurin )

이

Ryuusei sauntered over to his desk, receiving curious glances that soon declined into uninterested ones. His teacher finished his sentence and briefly frowned at his student's late entrance. It was the third time this week of Ryuusei's delayed appearance. It was also the third time this week that he was greeted with his reply to the confession.

Carefully tucked in at the edge of the inside of his desk, Ryuusei's question settled, unbothered. Ryuusei had trusted this anonymous person to know a response awaited him, located at Ryuusei's desk, but now the former wasn't sure.

So every time Ryuusei spotted the crinkled paper, he felt the urge to shred it into thin pieces or chuck it into the nearest trash can.

The next morning Ryuusei sulkily approached his desk on time. His anger spiked at the sight of the tiny slip of paper resting gently where it had been first placed.

Ryuusei kicked the corner of his desk, the sudden noise shocking his classmates. He ignored their stares and collapsed into his chair, crushing, in the palm of his hand, what had been the cause of his vexation for the past few days.

Wait--this wasn't his. On a better glimpse, it was white paper identical to the first one he received.

The gleam in his eyes brightened as he unfolded and read its content.

Shidou Ryuusei,

I'm obviously your secret admirer. Are you that dense?

Typed. No name. Should he have expected a hint? They avoided the question by stating the obvious. And how could Ryuusei miss the rhetorical question? So they were comfortable enough to joke around with him. Or insult him. Or both.

At least Ryuusei wasn't mistaken. The confession wasn't a prank; it was real.

Ryuusei leaned back in his chair at this conclusion, the ceiling with its patterned lights only in his vision. Who would be insane enough to like him? He wasn't a great or even the typical student by all means. Did they like the way his fists made bruises or spilled blood?

Too many questions and not enough answers, Ryuusei thought as he etched out a reply even he wasn't sure was a good reply:

Hey my secret admirer, wanna play a game?