Chapter Text
“So, yeah,” the student body president finished. “I think the Secret Pen Pals program will be a huge success, and I hope everyone makes new meaningful connections.”
A roar of applause from the audience and one long bow later, Chan sunk in his seat, leaning against the chair in exhaustion.
“Nice job, Prez,” his VP whispered next to him. Chan turned to look at Changbin in exhaustion.
“Yeah, well,” Chan wiped a thin layer of sweat from his forehead, watching the principal take over the mic. “Let’s hope people actually sign up for it.”
And sign up for it, they did. After its charismatic leader’s endorsement, more than half the student body lined up to sign the interest form.
The Secret Pen Pals program had been a project the Student Union had had in the works for a while, but hadn't gotten around to until this year. It required too much planning, organization, and time—things only the new elect was willing to commit. The dark circles under Chan’s eyes were proof.
The idea itself was simple—write a letter, reply. But rather than being paired with someone you share interests with, you’d be paired with someone at random. Best case scenario would be ‘opposites attract’ and worst would be just ghosting. It was a risky move, but it was the only way.
Too many people stuck to their own groups. It was natural for people to form cliques, but in his three years of being here, Chan hadn’t seen any sort of homogeneity amongst his peers. Something needed to change. It was why he worked so hard on launching the program. It was good that people seemed interested though.
But who wouldn’t be, really? It was fun—exciting, even—to go old-school and write letters. The only difference was that they’d be encrypted emails since he wasn’t about to organize a manual delivery system.
Chan rubbed his neck as the principal finished his closing remarks. The room erupted in noise and wooden creaks as people stood. It was going to be a long week of match-making.
Meanwhile, in the crowd, Y/N felt an elbow dig into her side. “Ow,” she hissed, sinking deeper into the auditorium chair. Students flit around her, clambering to the stagefront in droves.
Yoobin—her best friend since childhood—rested her head on her fist, propped up on the armrest. “You should sign up,” she said simply.
Y/N snorted. She already had a busy schedule. School, home, sleep. Complicating it with a ‘pen pal’ seemed unnecessary.
“I’m serious.” Yoobin twisted her hair. “I’m going to be away for study abroad starting next week. Who are you going to hang out with then?”
Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a loner.”
“I never said you were.” When she didn’t budge, Yoobin sighed. “Babes, you don’t go out of your way to talk to people either. I think this would be a good opportunity for you to make friends.”
“I have you.”
“Besides me.”
Y/N pursed her lips. She wasn’t unhappy with her school life. She had people she talked to in every class and never struggled with finding people for group projects. But she never considered any of the people she talked to as friends. The word held too much meaning to be used so liberally.
“Please?” Yoobin’s hand took her own. “For me?”
Y/N frowned. Her friend didn’t seem deterred.
“It’s only for the semester. You never have to contact them again after school’s over. We’re juniors, Y/N! Live a little. Use them to satiate your boredom while I’m gone.”
The girl’s frown grew deeper before it smoothed out. Y/N sighed. “Fine,” she relented, drawing her knees to her chest on the seat. She made no motion to join the line—opting to wait for it to die down—and stared straight ahead. “I guess I’ll do it.”
Yoobin squealed next to her, squeezing her arm. Y/N groaned internally.
Whatever, she decided internally. If my match is a creep, I’ll ghost them.
And as if sensing her inner monologue, Yoobin scowled, hitting her with more force than necessary. “And you can’t ghost them.”
Y/N grimaced, cradling her head dramatically. This was going to be a long semester.