Jeongguk

He remember the first time he ever confessed his love. The girl was sweet, with large, warm eyes and a comforting smile. She was everything he wished he had. That night, when he handed her the bouquet of peonies and the small hand written letter, she accepted it all with a kind, unforgiving smile. Actually, as much as he pictured that in his head, he was too of a coward to knock at her door and hand her the posy.

"For those times you told me you liked me, I will get back at you with this. Three words, one feeling, all in the correct terms. Think about it before you get back at me. I hope you can be my one and only."

He knew his own answer. He didn't want to lie and say that he didn't, because even in the slightest when he would deny it, he felt a familiar thumping against his chest.