An Aromantic’s attempt at love letters:

I hate you.

That’s what the letter read. Scribbled sloppily on a small cardinal Christmas card. It might have been in cursive, but he hadn’t ever been taught that. Either way, the message was clear.

It made him feel sick. Did they not love each other? Why were they married, then? How old was this letter? Why was it saved-

Foreboding heavy in his stomach, he continued to shuffle through the pile. There may have been hundreds.

Why were you at the game, to see my defeat?

Please stop sitting next to me in class then, idiot.

If you were the one to kick in my locker-

See you at seven, idiot.

Tf? McDonalds?

I’m broke paying to get you out of detention. You’re lucky I even try to bribe them.

It’s your fault I’m there in the first place.

And not Gabbie’s?

The front door opened. He hastily shoved them back in the drawer, and went back to the safety of his room. The letters were slowly making him feel better, but he still didn’t understand.