✨10,000 Little Love Letters✨ ~soulmate amaguji~

~a sort of-kind of-totally fucked up system~

!korekiyo POV!

humanity was beautiful, even like this.

even when the concept of "humanity" was trying to squeeze past hundreds of people huddled up into one narrow hallway. when the only light was the faint, buzzing yellow light that shone down from the school's ceiling. and when the bustling, loud voices of fellow students grows so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts.

though, it's not like my thoughts were very important at a time like this.

i kept thinking back to my soulmate, and his endearing response to one of my -- a little too early, letters. how it felt so casual, yet sweet. how the writing curled and fluctuated. it was quite obvious that the boy was either in a rush or very, very tired. maybe a mix of both? one could only wonder. wonder what went on in the brilliant mind of someone i haven't even met yet. or how he looked and acted when he was tired. perhaps his hair was long like mine? or maybe it was short and perky... oh, how i longed to run my hands through it.

the whole soulmate thing was an odd concept. one of the most beautiful, yet disgusting parts of humanity all at once.

everyone was apart of a system, whether they desired to or not. each member will be given envelopes and a small app on your phone. you write your letter, and leave it out in a box until a small chime appears saying that the other received it. and then you await your letter -- that is if your soulmate even bothers.

cute... yet terrifying.

terrifying that there may never be a response. terrifying you're doomed to be alone. that they dislike you. that they're dangerous. that they never respond again, and you get the final notification.

this recipient is no longer active.

the chime was different than others. i knew this well. it was a normal day in my classes when a bell rung. it sounded more like a gong, ringing loudly throughout the class; maybe even the entire school. it was until ryoma had picked up his phone, looking down at it and reading over the dark red text.

this recipient is no longer active.

i would be lying if i said i didn't worry about my soulmate.

i run my slender fingers against the cold metal of my locker -- a reminder that yes, korekiyo shinguji is here. he's okay. he's alive.

a soft sigh escapes my lips, stashing books and binders neatly away. a stark contrast to others who had simply shoved away piles of papers; a mix of burnt cigarretes, paper, and notebooks littering the hallway floor. i zone out, and before i know it, my binder had joined the plethora of school supplies. except -- of course, just my luck -- it fell at the feet of one of my peers.

a gentle looking boy stares down at the binder, a face mixed with confusion and shock. he had fluffy, green hair and the emerald eyes to match. he was surrounded by a group of what i assumed to be his friends. an average height woman with long, strawberry blonde hair and a foul mouth, as well as a shorter boy with dark purple hair that faded lightly at the tips.

oh god, he's popular.

"a-apologies..." i stutter. even better, i just stuttered in front of an attractive, popular boy.

he chuckles; a sweet sound, i note -- and picks up the binder, placing it in my hands.

"no worries!" he gives me a warm smile, starting to speak. "sorry, i must've scared you a little."

"i just seem to be on edge... thank you for returning my binder."

"haha, i'd have to say the same. school can be--"

"raro!!" the shorter boy butts in. raro? "don't give me that bullshit! you're having soulmate problems!~"

"i-i am not--!!"

"you fuckin' are!!" the girl interrupts as well. jeez, can this man get a word in? "now c'mon! ya had your time talking to this edgy shitlord, we gotta go!!"

i don't think i like those two very much.

"well, good luck to you! i hope your anxiety cle-- FUCK--"

and before i knew it, the green-haired boy had vanished.

"wait... raro?"

i sat there, unanswered. my question slowly fading away into the clutter of noise, until it had become nothing but a whisper of the past.