MarkDy One-Shots

Mailed Love Letter

Inspired by the To All the Boys I've Loved Before  trilogy by Jenny Han.

My little sister Yeri mailed out my only love letter. I'm furious; I'm literally fuming. And of course, it just had to be the one I wrote to Mark Tuan, the most popular and attractive boy in school. Why did I address it? Yay me.

I am chastened, knowing how he'll make fun of me with his popular and attractive friends as well. Ugh.

Now I'm trying to recall what I wrote. I hope it wasn't something embarrassing, but it probably was.

Entering the classroom, I inspected for Mark. No sign of him here. Thank goodness. Wait—I spoke too soon. His head was laid down on the desk, facing the window, and then he just had to turn around. Why are there so many coincidences today? His eyes found mines and I panicked. And what do panicked people do? They run (or stay still). Yup, you heard me. I ran away from him! From my own problems!

I ran until the hallway was empty. I couldn't deal with anyone judging me. I stopped to bend over, with my hands pressed against my knees, so I can catch my breath.

A deep voice interrupted. I knew who it was. Mark. "Wendy, we need to talk." I was so surprised by his confrontational tone, I fell down and couldn't look at him. I knew my cheeks were stained with a crimson shade. He placed his hand in front of me and I grabbed it, which pulled me up. I still couldn't look at him.

"Did you intend to send me this letter?" I shook my head. "Yeri did, my l—"

"I know she's your little sister, and I'm glad she did." That statement alone was all it took for me make eye contact with him. What??

"Why?"

"I like you, Wendy. I always have. I never talked to you as much because I'm shy. I didn't think you'd want to be my friend—let alone be my girlfriend."

I stared him, bemused. "But you're Mark Tuan. So many girls would love to date you."

"Yeah, but those girls aren't like you. You're confident and comfortable in your own skin. Even though you're great at singing and speaking French, you don't boast about it. You're humble and considerate of others."

"I can say the same about you! You always know how to make someone feel better. I think that's what you do best."

His eyes flickered to the ground, and then back at me. He gave me a huge smile.

"Do you have the letter with you right now?"

He nodded his head and held it out. I was about to take it, but then he snatched it back. "If I give you this, you have to return it. Promise?" He brought his hand up with his pinky and thumb extended.

I looked at him quizzically. "Why do you want it back?"

"I've never gotten a love letter before." My jaw dropped. "Seriously?" He bobbed his head innocently. "Okay. I promise." We pinky promised and our thumbs touched. He handed me the letter and I quickly unfold it.

I wrote:

Dear Mark,
I know I don't have a chance with you, seeing as how you're popular and I'm not. And I know you'll date another girl and share a passionate kiss with her and love her endlessly because you are a caring and affectionate guy, but I just wanted to get this off my chest.

I. Love. You.

I love you.

We've never talked after I hung out at your house when we were kids, so I know that might sound strange. I just can't get you off my mind. I tried moving on. It didn't work out. I tried again. I was unsuccessful yet again.

I love you for many reasons: You are so kind. The way you look out for your friends to the way you make the troublemakers in class respect the teacher; How incredibly athletic you are. You believe fitness is important—and it is—so that makes me motivated to work out; Your jokes are hysterical! I always crack up when I hear them across the cafeteria; You make people feel better. Your laugh and your smile are contagious, instantly making me happy; Lastly, you are unbelievably handsome. But up close—in the rare moments that I get to look at your face from a short distance—you aren't so much as handsome as you are beautiful.

Okay. That is all.

Love,
Wendy

"Wow," I said as I gave the letter back, "I still think these things are true." We smiled at each other and then he looked at me endearingly. I don't think he looked at any other girl like this before. He took my hand and placed it on his heart. It was beating briskly. I did the same, and my heart was beating equally as brisk, if not more.

He didn't ask me out, but he didn't even need to. I knew his heart was mine, and he knew my heart was his. To think this all started because of a mailed love letter. Thank you, Yeri.