Wonshik only liked daydreaming.

Wonshik stared long and hard at the small envelope in his hand. Class already started and he was late, but he stood in the middle of the empty hallway, suspended in time.

People didn't like him. They did, but not like that. No one ever liked him like that and that was good, but now . . . The envelope in his hands weighed nothing, but it tried to drag him down through the tiled floor, through ground level, to the Earth's core.

He flipped it over, hoping the shift of gravity wouldn't make the floor crack. It didn't.

Sealing the back of the letter was a small white heart with pink polka dots. His stomach sank. He couldn't open it. He couldn't do that to himself—or to the person who gave it to him.

Why was he so upset? He loved these kinds of things. He daydreamed about them all the time. Person meets person, they do something clumsy and cute together, maybe go out, maybe kiss, and they . . . fall in love. He loved that. Falling in love was so wonderful. Someone finding their other half was so wonderful.

But then someone tried to make him their other half. He wasn't a half. He didn't want to be a half. He wasn't anyone's half, he was his own whole. Other people could have all the halves they wanted, but not him—they shouldn't do that to him.

Knots clenched his stomach. He began at the cute sticker, telling himself to open it. Telling himself it was okay to open it. The person who gave it to him, they didn't mean any harm, he knew they didn't—but he still couldn't stop himself from feeling . . . attacked, and embarrassed.

They expected a reply, didn't they? Heat rushed to his face at the thought. A reply. What was he supposed to tell them?

I'm sorry, I can only imagine us dating and being cute together and going places and making each other happy. I'm sorry, I only like the idea of dating you, I don't actually want to. I'm sorry, I can't like you back.

Part of the sticker was already peeled off and he blinked. He wanted to see it. He wanted to read what they said. It would probably only make him feel guilty and sad and self-loathing, but what was it like? What was it like to open up like that to someone? To show someone one of their most vulnerable facets? He didn't envy them, it was scary.

I really like you.

“Wonshik?”

He flinched and spun around. One of his best friends, Jongin, looked confused to see him, but then he smiled. “I thought it was you. What are you doing here? Everything alright?”

Wonshik stuffed the letter into his back pocket, forcing a laugh. “Yeah, no, I'm cool. I was just. I was reading something on my phone.”

Jongin quirked a brow, skeptical, but he didn't press it. He threw an arm around Wonshik's shoulders when he reached him. “If you say so.” They started walking together. “Hey, so you never finished telling me about that poem you were writing, tell me now.”

Wonshik grinned, knots disappearing, flush fading. “Oh yeah! Nah, it was no big deal, just some corny love poem.”

“You and your weird romance,” Jongin teased, poking his cheek.

He swat the hand away. “Yeah, yeah, but I think it's cute, y'know?”

Jongin chuckled, squeezing his shoulder. “Who knows, maybe one day you'll finally find someone to pipe all that mush to.”

Wonshik chuckled too, uneasy.

“Yeah, right . . .”

featuring akoiromantic wonshik