Shining Glitter Cookie~

Right now, Espresso Cookie was experiencing something he was not expecting to happen to him today. Or ever, actually.

Just like every other day, he was preparing all his equipment and research data for another day of analyzing the Soul Jam at the Institute of Thaumaturgy. Another day of learning how the Soul Jam worked. Another day of studying ways to use the ancient’s Soul Jam to protect all cookies from Dark Enchantress Cookie and her forces. It was a grueling and difficult task, but one he was more than certainly up for. As long as he continues to pull all nighters, only running on at least seven cups of coffee, then he’s the most reliable worker you could ask for. This is Espresso Cookie we’re talking about, and with enough effort put in, his research will always lead to some kind of success.

Except this wasn’t exactly like every day. Unless you could count the unusually decorated envelope carefully left through the mail slot of his personal laboratory.

He had found the aforementioned mail on the floor in front of his door as he was preparing to leave. Normally, he would have most likely ended up tossing any kind of mail he received straight in the trash, but this one caught his eye. The envelope was a normal white, but after readjusting his glasses, he noticed it was... covered in sparkly stickers. At first he thought that it was sent to the wrong person, but his theory was immediately disproven when he saw his name was written in small cursive letters on the front. That is what stopped him from immediately discarding the letter.

Picking the letter up, he was about to throw it onto his desk to open later, simply going back to preparing for his daily work, but then he hesitates. The letter… it doesn’t look important, but it has still completely piqued his interest. It’s not every day that he sees a letter addressed to him, Espresso Cookie, all sparkly and decorated with cute little stickers.

He tries to tell himself that he’ll just open it whenever he gets back to his lab, however long that takes. Hours? Days? Who knows. The Soul Jam’s research requires his expertise the most. Missing even a single day of research could have dire consequences. What if the Soul Jam gets stolen? What if Dark Enchantress Cookie strikes suddenly? Anything could happen.

He sighs. It’ll only be a minute.

Espresso quietly sits down at his desk, pulling the envelope towards himself. He observes it for a moment, the silky texture of the envelope brushing against his fingers. The cute and glittery pink stickers catch his eye, as they all seem carefully and intricately placed along the white surface. But his name, which was written in slightly messy cursive, was the thing that stuck out to him the most. It seemed to be hastily written in a small red marker. Espresso Cookie let out a chuckle before he realized it.

Carefully, he tears it open. Inside he finds a single folded piece of paper gently tucked inside. The paper is creased in a very neat manner, he’s almost impressed at how perfectly square it is. He pulls the paper out and unfolds it, revealing what looks to be a letter of some sorts. He suspected such a thing, but reading the said letter was an entire different story.

It seemed to be a poem of some sort, and not just any poem, it seemed to be a love poem. A very cheesy and romantic poem, to be exact. If it was read by any person other than Espresso, they would for sure feel butterflies fluttering in their stomach and their face heating up significantly. The flowery words and the passionate language was enough to make almost any cookie’s heart throb.

At first, his only reaction was to stare blankly at the paper in front of him. He almost thought that he had misread all of the words written there. He immediately adjusted his glasses and squinted his eyes, only to realize that no, he did not in fact misread everything. This was an actual love confession, or poem. But there was one small issue:

The letter had not been signed.

Espresso Cookie practically scoffed when he noticed this. How could someone practically send their entire heart to this man, and yet not even end up signing it? He thought it was ridiculous. He promptly took a sip of the bitter coffee he loved before standing up, preparing to leave. After shoving all his belongings into a briefcase, he reaches for his doorknob to leave, but he hesitates for a brief moment. He turns around. Glancing at the letter he left on his desk, he ponders. Eventually, he sighs, pushing up his glasses before walking out the door and shutting it behind him.

He decides he won’t throw it out just yet. He needs to find out who sent it to him, after all. Such a bold letter sent to him obviously led him to wanting to know who sent it. Maybe it was someone he knew? Or maybe it was someone he never met before? Maybe when he does figure out who sent it, he could get to know them better…? Maybe it’s someone Espresso could really connect with…

Espresso shakes his head at the last thought. He didn’t have time for such affairs. He would merely do what he could to find out who wrote and sent him this letter, he would interrogate them, and that would be that. There was no need to ‘get to know them’. All of this was a waste of Espresso’s time. He didn’t need anyone sending him any kind of love letters.

Yet he could not deny the very light shade of red dusting his cheeks.

He clears his throat to recompose himself as the bright sun of the Créme Republic blinds him for a few seconds. Using his hand to shield himself, he continues to walk. He mutters and mumbles to himself, lost in thought about the small bump in the road he encountered this morning. Everything would be fine, he thought whilst shaking his head. This would not interrupt his work in the slightest. This should not interrupt his work. Nothing will change.

———

‘Everything will be fine. Nothing will change.’ came out to be somewhat of a lie.

Because Espresso Cookie had ended up receiving another letter the next week.

And the next.

…And the next.

He even received a small bouquet of flowers with one of the letters at one point, which he so kindly had placed in a small vase on his desk (he would glare at anyone who asked about it before immediately changing the subject).

So, Espresso Cookie did not really know what to do.

Each envelope he received was decorated the same as the last, with glittery stickers meticulously placed on perfectly and his name written on the front with the same handwriting each time. But every note he read was vastly different each time. They were all similar in the sense that they all were blatantly obvious love confessions. Yet, they all had their own way of making even the always stoic and tired Espresso Cookie fluster slightly, although he would never admit that to anyone.

It wasn’t until he felt himself smile at one of the letters he received that he realized he needed to figure out who was sending these letters, and fast. He needed to find out who was messing with his head like this. Who was making him feel such things. He hated it. He wanted to find out so he can finally get this whole ordeal done with. He wanted to find them, so he could tell them to stop bothering him and to stop making him feel this way with their stupidly butterfly-inducing poems. He hated it!

So, he had devised a plan. It was a simple one, really, which was something that was surprising coming from Espresso Cookie. He was relieved he wouldn’t need to ask anyone for help, especially Madeleine Cookie, because Espresso knew that Madeleine would never let him live this situation down.

It was simple: the person leaving the notes seemed to have always left them whenever Espresso was away, or when he was too busy to notice the note quietly being slipped into his mail slot. So, his plan of attack was to simply find out the time they usually come, and catch the person off guard. Catch them in the act, so he could finally find out who the mysterious admirer was. So he could finally have a word with them.

He crosses his arms, thinking about what he would say. He really wanted to scold them, to tell them to get lost, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. Not when the words on the paper written just for him were so loving and affectionate. Every note would only say kind and wonderful things about Espresso Cookie, admiring him, praising him, and more. The praises ranged from his involvement with the research of the Soul Jam, to himself. The parts that complimented his appearance is what flustered him the most, which irritated him.

So he waits. It had been quite a bit since the previous letter was sent, so he knew it would be coming soon. Espresso opted to sit down by his door, waiting patiently for the familiar little envelope to slide through the slot in his door. Since he had calculated the exact time when he expected the letter to flutter through the mail slot, he determined that it should be coming through just about… now.

…

But nothing came. That’s… strange.

He waited another few minutes.

Still nothing…

He expected to hear his mail slot clink as something slipped through it. He expected to open the door and be faced with the perpetrator. But the only thing he was faced with was silence.

This led Espresso Cookie to think. Maybe the person leaving these gifts for him finally gave up? Maybe they got tired of never getting anything back from him? A lot of ‘maybe’ questions began to pop up in his mind. At first they were simply thoughts of them finally giving up, but then it slowly turned into darker thoughts. Darker ones like ‘what if something happened to them?’ or ‘what if they got sick and are unable to leave their house?’

…What if they were attacked somehow…?

Espresso huffed at the thought, clearing his throat and readjusting his glasses. He shakes his head, reprimanding himself for worrying so much over someone he doesn't even know the face of. Yet he still couldn't stop himself from feeling even the slightest bit guilty. He just wanted to convince himself that whatever happened to you wasn’t his problem. The chances of someone being attacked and injured were very slim, the Crème Republic was far too littered with guards and police cookies to let an innocent cookie get hurt. So, no, he did not care that you weren’t showing up on time today. Not at all, nope. Not in the slightest—

The approaching footsteps cut off his thoughts.

Ah- someone’s coming… is it his landlord that he ignored all the time? Was it Madeleine coming just to annoy him? Or was it… was it the cookie he was waiting to see?

Has the cookie he had been waiting for finally arrived? If he opened the door right now, would he be met with the mysterious sender from the past few weeks? Or would he be disappointed to see someone he would rather not deal with at the moment? His plan was finally in full motion, but now he began to hesitate. Espresso didn’t know whether or not he should actually open the door and face whoever was there. As the light footsteps slowly grew closer, the man knew that he needed to make a decision, quickly.

Hand seizing the doorknob, he waits a few more moments until he hears the footsteps stop in front of his door. For a moment, there's only silence on the other side.

The moment he hears the cover of his mail slot move slightly is when he swings open his door at the speed of light. In front of him stood… you. You, a simple cookie, who was slightly shorter than him, and that was further amplified as you cowered and yelped in a startled manner.

Espresso recognizes you, he has seen you before. He’s usually noticed you on his way to the Institute during most mornings, as you’re usually seated by a fountain reading a book or scribbling on a piece of paper. It isn’t like he actually knew who you were or even spoke to you, but he knew you existed. You never bothered him or caused him trouble, so he never thought to approach you.

Standing in front of him now, with your face flushed red and your eyes wide, he realizes now that this is the closest he’s ever been to you. He takes a moment to examine you further. The clothes you’re wearing, the worried expression framed in your brows, your quivering lips, and your stiff legs. Your hands are quaking and you’re stammering apologies to him quietly.

Huh. He almost didn’t believe you were the one sending him all of those beautiful letters and lovely poems. If it weren’t for the fact that you were obviously clutching one of those said letters tightly in your hands, then he would have sighed and closed the door on your face.

But now… he knows who the perpetrator was.

…What should he do now?

“So it was you.” Espresso Cookie says bluntly. He watches as you flinch at the question.

“Ah— um, yes…”

Espresso waits for you to continue speaking, but you do not say anything else. You simply continue to hide your face from him as he stares at you blankly. Sighing, he readjusts his glasses once more.

“Shall we have a chat?”

“W— What?” Your face peeks out from behind your hands, and he can barely make out your flushed face once more.

Espresso Cookie looks at his watch, the hands ticking monotonously. He should have left the laboratory several minutes ago. Though instead of leaving you there stranded to continue his work, he decides to stay and chat with you for a bit.