Letters to the Cute from the Fool

My Dearest Rias,

As I sit here attempting to capture my thoughts on paper, I am struck with a sense of wonder, both for you and the challenge of conveying my feelings through mere words. I write not only to express what my heart so desperately longs to say but also, in the hope that one day, my awkwardness and charm might make you smile, just as you do for me. Please, forgive the rambling that follows; it is merely the result of an attempt to share something so pure, though I know I am not always the best at saying it.

Now, allow me to begin this letter in the only way I know how...

Letter 1:

To my dearest Rias,

First, allow me to apologize for my previous letter. I’m sure it was more confusing than a cat trying to learn algebra, and for that, I sincerely regret any perplexity it may have caused. I was simply overwhelmed by the thought of you. As I sat in my room, staring at the wax seal on the last letter you sent me, I had an epiphany: I am terrible at expressing myself. I suppose the problem lies in the fact that every time I think about you, my brain tries to overcomplicate things. It’s like my thoughts take a perfectly straight road and then decide to go on a detour to the moon—just to make sure it gets there in the most confusing way possible.

Now, let’s focus on the important matter at hand: you—my beautiful, intelligent, and incredibly patient muse. I feel like the luckiest fool in the kingdom to even be able to write to you. I mean, seriously, what do I have to offer that would make you even glance in my direction? Aside from my dazzling ability to trip over my own feet and say the most ridiculous things at the worst possible moments? That must be a skill, right?

But let’s get serious for a moment (I promise, just one moment—I'm not known for my seriousness). I admire you more than words can convey. And that’s saying something, considering I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to write the most eloquent love letter ever. Alas, it turns out that no amount of flowery language or metaphorical comparisons to sunsets and stars will ever fully express how much you mean to me. In fact, I’ve tried. A lot. I’ll spare you the embarrassing drafts, but trust me when I say, I’m lucky I haven’t turned your entire family’s library into a graveyard of discarded papers.

What I’m trying to say, in the simplest and least disastrous way possible, is this: I love you. I don’t know how I managed to stumble into such feelings for someone as extraordinary as you, but here I am, feeling like the world’s greatest fool, writing letters that may or may not make sense, hoping that one day, you’ll realize that I’m the fool who would do anything to make you laugh, smile, and, perhaps, love me in return.

Until the next time I find myself writing the world’s most absurd letter,

Yours in all my chaotic glory,

Issei

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Reply:

To my ever-enthusiastic Issei,

I must admit, I nearly spilled my tea as I read your letter.

Oh, where do I even begin with this? First of all, let me just say, I had to read your letter twice—partially because I was laughing so hard the first time that I couldn’t quite get through it. I don’t know whether I’m more impressed by your ability to be both utterly charming and completely ridiculous at the same time, or by your sheer talent for turning simple thoughts into a full-blown comedy show. Issei, you’ve officially become the court jester of my heart, and frankly, I’m not sure I’m ever going to recover.

You know, most men would try to write serious, meaningful letters in a time like this, and here you are, trying to win me over with the equivalent of a stand-up routine. And it’s working. I have never been so entertained by a confession of love in my life. I’m half-convinced that you think of me as a long-term project for your comedy career, and honestly, I’m not mad about it.

But let’s address the elephant in the room—you’re terrible at being serious. I mean, *really* terrible. If “seriousness” were a knight, you’d be the squire who trips over his own sword before he even gets to the battle. And yet… somehow, I find that endearing. Maybe it’s because I’m starting to think that my life would be much more boring without your absurd letters. I’ve never quite met someone who could turn a simple “hello” into a dramatic saga of trip-ups and misplaced metaphors. You, my dear Issei, have managed to do that, and I’m somewhat impressed by the audacity of it all.

Now, for the part where I’m supposed to be serious. Yes, you *are* ridiculous, but also, yes, you’ve made me laugh more than I ever thought possible. And for that, I think I can forgive you for your tendency to turn every letter into an accidental comedy routine. And yes, I think I’ve also realized that, despite your ability to embarrass yourself at the drop of a hat, there’s something quite wonderful about you. You’ve managed to capture my attention and, dare I say it, my heart. It’s not easy to win me over, especially when you’re so prone to tripping over your own words (and feet), but somehow, you’ve done it. Slowly, and with a lot of laughter along the way.

So, what now, you may ask? I suppose we continue this ridiculous dance, you stumbling over your love letters and me trying to keep a straight face while secretly enjoying it. In the end, it seems that you’re not just a fool, Issei—you’re the fool I can’t stop thinking about.

Yours, forever entertained and now quite fond of you,

Rias

P.S. If you ever send me another letter where you don’t trip over a metaphor, I might have to question if you’re still the Issei I know. Keep the chaos coming, my dearly darling.