Lighthouse [Alice in Borderland x Reader]

HS AU

You knew you weren't special to him.

You were just a random classmate that happened to share the same sentiment and morals, giving you a topic to talk about. You were just a random classmate that he happened to always be partnered with. You were just a classmate that he probably forgot the name of.

You weren't special. You were like the other people.

Like the other people that fell for him, pathetically so. You two didn't hold a special type of relationship. Hell, you two weren't even friends, nor acquaintances. A random classmate that fell for the golden child.

You saw how he threw the letters the girls gave him. You saw how he ignored the gifts that the boys left in his table. You saw how he disregarded confessions. If he was in the mood to be a little shit, he harshly yet still uncaringly reject those who had the guts to tell him what they feel.

You bit your lips, gripping the love letter that you made.

A meticulously created love letter, written with an intricate handwritten calligraphy that you spent your days to perfect. It was adorned with dried petals of small flowers, together with a hard cut out of a drawing of a Spathiphyllum. It was inside a pale [favorite color] envelope, tied with a twine. It was sealed with wax, stamped with your favorite one.

A cringe, embarrassing, and cheesy way of telling someone you like them. A typical highschooler that you were that time.

Why was your love language gift giving? It hurts your soul seeing people's gift be thrown away like that. Why did you fall for him anyway? Out of all the ones that you could've fall for, you fell for Chishiya.

It was cold today. The afternoon breeze that brushed through the grass, dragging its scent when it blows towards you. Another soldier had fallen after she bravely presented her best self, giving him a letter that was much better than yours. You shivered at the thought of him insulting your intelligence after you claim to like him for so long.

You never felt so afraid to tell the truth. Goodness, you had always been a blunt person, much much blunt than he was. Your tongue was much sharper than his. You were a truthful person. But this truth...

Fixing your cardigan, you pretended to not see him and took the different direction. You put your crumpled letter inside the deep pocket of your uniform.

You always had unreciprocated crushes even before, what's bad in another addition? Just bottle your feelings up. Keep it and don't tell anyone about it.

If someone finds out, dismiss it, play it like you already lost your feeling a long long time ago. If he finds out, play it cool. Just tell him that it was a one time crush. Pretend to have shallow infatuation to him.

Infatuation. Yes. That was what you have for him. It wasn't deep. You will get over the feeling quickly. It doesn't matter if you had it exactly for four months. Tommorow, it certainly will vanish. It will not get deeper. It would not. You were sure of it.

Your phone lightly vibrated. You abruptly took it from your pocket, and you saw a calendar notification, telling you that it was his birthday today. A cute cartoon of a cat danced, popping some confetti. It resembles an Asian golden cat. It's soft yet sharp eyes reminded you of him.

Your lips wobbled. You were an embarrassment. Imagine crying for a guy who barely knew you. Imagine spending your days to make a letter that rivals the oldest novels due to its impassioned and in-depth metaphors.

Imagine being dejected by confession that you didn't even do.

You put your phone back, unaware that the paper was not there anymore. When you were long gone, a certain blonde picked the crumpled letter, unraveling it to see its beauty.

A letter shouldn't have made his eyes smile slightly. A letter shouldn't have made his stomach be tied in a knot. A letter shouldn't have made his heart ache, seen it crumpled. He tried to straighten it with his delicate fingers.

Beautiful was an understatement. It held something so pure, so calming. It was a piece of something he never thought he would be dedicated for him. He can't find to what he felt that particular time. He was uninterested in measly human emotions.

Humanity is not something worth of his attention. He didn't wonder why you didn't give this to him. He knew you saw how he was with others. He knew that he was not someone to adore. He didn't like you in that way you likely had for him. However, this letter— he liked your letter.

But then he saw you.

You were running, your hair was bouncing with every long heavy step you took to reach him. When you were close to him, he saw how your face morphed into one filled with horror. It was a funny face.

“Can you give that back?” you panted, hair very unkempt.

“Can I give what back?” you look unimpressed with his response.

“You're going to throw it away anyway, so just give it to me.” you patted your sweat with your cardigan.

“You know that you can't take back someone's gift away. That's just rude.” in a split second, your nervous face turned pissed.

“You know that you shouldn't throw someone's gift away. Yet you don't hear me saying anything about your rudeness. Give me a break.”

“Greet me first.” you groaned a sound of utter frustration.

“Happy birthday. There, happy?”

“Very.”