Chapter Text
"Sir," you began, not letting his amused expression deter you "I know i asked for a challenge this time around, but..." You pointedly glanced down at your clothing that now sparkled atrociously "I didn't mean pair me up with a five-year old that doesn't know when to stop adding glitter to everything."
In return you got a simple chuckle from him "You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, or in this case, a letter by its envelope.", he looked past you, eyeing the desk where you had dumped the sparkling mess, "Especially this time around; you know this IS your last chance."
"You say that like you'll kick me out next time someone stops writing to me." you humor him.
"No, you know you're always welcome to drop by, but," he scratches his cheek, "It's getting harder to find someone that's, well..."
"Well?"
"...Willing, to have you as their pen pal." the answer is laced with hesitancy, but this isn't new news to you, so you just shrug it off.
"Look," he begins, "my best advice would be to at least reply to this letter, and if you really don't want to continue, we can always arrange that.", a pause, then a smile, "Ah, lets just hope the next one doesn't come with a jars worth of glitter again! I really don't want to anger the cleaning lady twice."
You manage a small smile yourself "Alright...i suppose i really have no choice at this point."
"Good, good! That's what i like to hear; enthusiasm is key to communicating in a foreign language, after all."
Before he can give you a lecture, you decide to head back to your seat; well, a few seats away from your original one. You sheepishly glance back at the mess you caused a few moments ago, and pick up the shiny envelope before seating yourself.
You sigh.
Letters. A means of communication once used frequently, that had now dwindled in usage drastically with the availability of the internet and technology. Somehow, however, you found yourself in a situation where writing letters frequently was now commonplace and something you allotted time for in your busy schedule...or lack of, rather. If anything you found yourself joining this small program in the first place out of pure desperation to put some meaning into your life, aside from the hours spent slaving at your job. As an after note, you could say the location of the college was perhaps one more place for you to say you visited often; the list consisting of other such exotic destinations as "The Grocery Store", or "My Bed". How thrilling.
Did you regret joining? Of course not. Despite everything the program was in fact a fun aspect of your life. As a Japanese to English exchange, in the form of pen pals, you were surprised there weren't more people who had signed up; the language had always intrigued you, and you had been studying it casually for a fair number of years now, but once deciding to join over two years ago...it had really benefited your studies.
You looked around the room absent-mindedly; there weren't as many people as usual today, but that was to be expected on a weekday. In fact you yourself usually made your weekly visit on a Saturday, or maybe Sunday if you had plans (you really didn't, though. Ever.), and had only been called in today because of this new pen pal opportunity...
...you glanced back at the glittery mess on the table. This letter, out of all of the possible candidates, had to be your last chance. Of course. Bloody brilliant.
But, you supposed, picking up the sparkling envelope with hesitant fingers, that maybe, possibly, this wouldn't be so bad after all. So you opened the flap once again, pulled out the letter that thankfully had not also been drenched in glitter, and began to read.
Dear Monsieur/mademoiselle,
Oh god.
Oh how fate has seemed to align the stars on this very day, so that we may write to each other despite being separated by the seas of God Poseidon!
Oh, my god.
Although this ink may be black, my feelings and passion are not; they are ablaze at the opportunity to make a new acquaintance, as they must be for you as well. For you see, we are all just creatures of ha--
You paused. Then, you read through what you already had again, certainly, surely, this wasn't--
This was. This was. This was Real. All of it. Oh my god.
You were at a loss for words.
Despite the temptation to stand up and complain to the teacher once again for allowing a love letter to be approved, you refrained yourself; opting to stare at the paper without focusing on any of the words. Dare you ever do so again.
At first, your mind is blank. Then, you allow the dam to flood and a rush of thoughts and feelings hit you; and rather hard. Who did this person think they were? A poet? Shakespeare? Why did they think starting with poetic nonsense was a good idea for introducing yourself to someone? And why, oh why, did they think that an envelope should ever be covered with glitter ?!
However, you couldn't help admitting that the writer's English was incredible compared to what you were expecting, and a part of you giddily realised that you found the unexpected poetic-ness of it all to be...intriguing. A welcome change, of sorts. You think - What i had been asking for this whole time.
You thought back on previous pen pals you had over the course of your time in this program; and cringed a little. Those letters all started the same; "Hello, im ___, im interested in learning English, blah blah blah, culture, blah blah look forward to your response". Yeah, they sure did look forward to your response; that is, your corrections. Most of the pen pals you had derived into not writing out of interest and genuinity, but instead a way to improve English by asking monotonously "Is this correct?" or "How you you say ___?", and while at first you were more than happy to answer, you grew tired of it quickly and began to ignore those questions in your responses. Of course, your pen"pals" soon would realise this fact and stop replying altogether.
Your teacher scolded you each time this happened, as if it was your fault for wanting a more organic letter experience. Clearly that wasn't going to happen though, as the gaps between each pen pal began to get bigger; and the last pen pal you had was a whole two months ago. You had missed receiving letters, to be honest.
You focus in on the writing again.
The writing, although bringing you on the verge of groaning audibly, is consistently good English; and you manage to get through the whole thing without slamming your head into the desk. Just barely. He - you find out the writer is a guy - uses a fair amount of sophisticated vocabulary for English being his second language, and likes to throw in metaphor after metaphor; overall making the tone of the letter romantic-- well, cringey, but you can tell it's at least TRYING to be romantic. points for effort after all.
Looking up at the clock on the wall, the time reads 6:55. Its getting late...but you look back to your letter, and you realise how eagerly you want to write a response.
You don't mind walking home later than usual, you suppose.
"Alright, mister..." you glance back at the bottom of the paper at the only text not in English, "...Matsuno. Matsuno Karamatsu. Let's play along with your games."
You began to write.