It starts as a simple class project—anonymous pen pals, assigned at random. You expect it to be boring, just another forced school activity.

Then, the first letter arrives.

“Hey, stranger. Not sure what to write, so here’s a joke: Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field. (I know. Awful. But at least it’s not an essay.)”

You snort. Your pen pal is clearly an idiot.

So, you reply.

“That was terrible. But fine, here’s one back: Why don’t skeletons fight each other? They don’t have the guts.”

From there, the letters become something more. Jokes turn into inside jokes. Inside jokes turn into late-night confessions scribbled in ink.

You tell him about your dream of moving to the city. He tells you about his love for music but his fear of failing. He signs his letters H.J.—and nothing more.

You don’t know his face. His voice. But you know him.

And maybe… you like him.

Then, one day, the letters stop. Weeks pass. Silence.

Until your teacher announces that the big reveal is happening—today.

Your heart races as students exchange nervous glances, searching for their mystery pen pals.

Then, someone taps your shoulder.

You turn.

And standing there, holding your last letter, is Han Jisung. The guy you’ve barely spoken to in real life.

The one who’s looking at you like he’s been waiting for this moment, too.

He opens his mouth—to say something, to explain.

But before he can, the bell rings.

And he walks away.