AU where you have to fold 1000 paper cranes in order to meet your soulmate
You've always hated paper. Origami paper, specifically. Printer paper, card stock, anything eight by eleven is fine. If it's lined, even better. Only when it's perfectly square is there a problem.
One would think that you'd love origami paper, but in a society where it takes 1000 paper cranes to meet your "other half," those little colorful sheets of misery have become nothing but a huge pain in your ass.
You think back to grade school and shiver. Origami classes were mandatory, something about how quality paper cranes were the foundation for lifelong love. There's this old wives tale that says if your cranes are bad then you'll face many hardships, blah, blah, blah. Honestly, it's all a bunch of bologna, but as a child, you apparently liked bologna, so you devoted extensive amounts towards time to making the little devils.
It wasn't until about junior year of high school that everything fell apart. In many science fiction books, the author asks the reader to suspend their disbelief, believe in something surreal, and sacrifice realism. This is very much the same, except, you couldn't stay suspended forever. What goes up must come down, and you came down too soon.
990. You sigh.
The last crane you made was the summer right before your third year of high school. The paper was light pink. The folds were immaculate. You avert your eyes upward. Said crane hangs from your ceiling, dangling by a thread of invisible fishing line.
Freshman year was when you decided you wanted to hang all your creations like this. It was a good idea at the time; now, every time you lay down, all you're reminded of is the futility of the situation.
How is paper going to lead me to my soulmate? After 1000, how are you supposed to know? What's even the point? These thoughts plague your head as you slowly lose consciousness and slip into a dreamless sleep.
~ ~ ~
You wake to the sound of tapping. Rubbing your eyes, thoughts of homicide filling your head, you look around for the offender. Nothing. Puzzled, you leave the comforts of your bed, and circle your room.
Stopping at the window, your jaw drops in disbelief. A yellow paper crane is fluttering just below the sill, lightly tapping its paper beak against the glass. You open your window, mind whirling; the crane pauses, almost as if it's looking at you, then flits into your room, promptly landing on top of your head.
You reach up in an attempt to remove it, but the crane deftly avoids your hands. You try again. Again the crane moves. You drop your arms in defeat. The crane lands back on your head. You cross your arms with a huff.
"Well, this is an interesting... dilemma. How long are you going to sit on my head like that?" The crane doesn't respond. You sigh and begin contemplating whether or not you want to wear a hat for the rest of your life.
The sound of pounding feet breaks your train of thought. Peering out your now open window, you see a tall figure running towards your house. As it gets closer, you realize that it is actually a he, and that his face, despite having run at a speed of at least six miles per hour, is split by a wide, euphoric smile.
You can only watch with wide eyes as he finally stops in front of your window. Hands on his knees, he hunches over, panting.
"Uh... excuse me, who are you?"
