Say It Out Loud | A Knight's Letters for His Liege

D-9

Log 48,

It's quite nice to be back. I'm continuing to write in the original parchment again, thankfully, the ink on the other was still readable enough so I had no trouble copying it.

The children were quite hyper the day we came home. They kept on clinging on to me, and at some cases, did their pranks. It's quite normal, but sometimes, it went far too extreme.

I can't believe On indirectly asked if I truly like him, I couldn't stop my jaw from literally dropping like the pins.

Ahhhh, but I did respond to her query. Just not additionally directly since he was there. Let's ignore the fact that I kept on stuttering.

You can't blame me. I am such a fool for him, and just like what Alberu had said to me just before: only fools fall for him. Only fools. Tsk.

But didn't you also fall for him, Alberu?

I know, because I recognised such eyes. I have those for him. Always.

He is the main attraction. Everybody wants him. I'm not the only one with a chasing heart...

***

Log 49,

He is acting weird. In a good way, must I say.

Can't say I don't like it. Of course I wouldn't. Who wouldn't want their crush to be within inches and initiates physical contact as little and subtle as they try to do?

But never-mind that, he is very very touchy with me than most days. I think, It's very nice.  It's really more warmer than usual, I don't know if I'm just hot by being embarrassed or his hands on mine are.

His hands are cold like the snow but it melts right away if you get in contact with it. That fact is just fascinating, I wanna hold it more. Maybe, feel like the spring to his winter. The warm to his cold, the hot chocolate to his frosty cake. I just want to be something to him.

That'd be the happiest I'd ever be. Being someone special to the person you love the most.

Cale-nim. I like you. I really really like you. I might as well say I love you, but I don't think you are comfortable to know that yet—no, I don't think you'll ever reciprocate.

That's why I'll be cheering myself from my notes, and practically just confess from here. The letters, ignored and locked inside in its box, forever.

I guess tomorrow would be my final letter. It's not like I'm sending it to you, too. I'll just keep them in here. Besides, I don't think you'll reciprocate it. You'd probably feel guilty for not accepting me, and I'd hate to see nor feel something like that to seep out of you.

I love you,

in a romantic way.

***