✓ bizarre love triangle ; erwin smith

ONE

CHAPTER ONE

In the morning, I was a soldier. In the night, I was a poet.

I often found myself tucked into the corner part of my bunk bed, using a small candle stick as a source of light as I wrote away on a piece of parchment.

I had been hesitant at first, feeling as though by writing my first few sentences— I would be doomed with my words recorded on a piece of paper for Erwin Smith to read.

But as I began to move my quill and jot down the letters to complete words and eventually sentences; the words flowed out of me in ease. In the most natural form. Like confessing my love was a second nature, signing it under my sister's name the third.

I had begun with a more composed start in the first letter.

Expressing, in Marie's point of view, how much love and time meant for her— heavily implying her conquest to know him before anything else.

It was addictive, I believed.

Writing my words on a piece of paper without trying to make excuses as to why I had said the things I said, earning Marie's approval and disregard for what 'her' letters truly mean, and finally getting my emotions off my chest.

It was a new way of breathing, I suppose.

Every night, after a long day of training, this was my only relief. And I believe I was doing a hell of a good job, just not for myself.

"How do you do it?" Marie stared up at me in awe, a freshly written letter in her hands as she read the content. "My brother is secretly a hopeless romantic." She joked with her eyes still trained on the piece of paper.

I shifted my weight on my feet, trying not be as obvious. I didn't want anyone to know the words had been sincerely from me and to the right person I meant to say all that to.

"Look at this! 'I exist in two places. Here, and where you are'—"

I snatched the letter from her hands, cheeks flared in embarrassment as I seethed.

"Don't read it out loud!" I scolded.

"Oh, come on, M/n. It's honestly sweet! Where do you get your words? Who is your inspiration? Because certainly anyone could tell you write like a man in love." She wiggled her brows like a madman. "Come on, tell your big sister who it is?"

Your lover, I was half-tempted to confess.

I turned away from her quickly, dismissing my thoughts as I shrugged her off.

"No one, all right? I'm just taking inspiration from sappy love stories. It's not that deep."

"Hmm," she hummed as she looked at the letter in my hand. "I think he'll love it."

My heart pounded against my ears as I was once again reminded about how in no less than 24 hours, Erwin Smith will be receiving this letter and he will be reading it.

Perhaps read it in the silent night of our shared dormitory, a lit candle on his bedside, and Nile's snores playing in the background.

Whatever, however— he was going to read it, and I would be there!

"You'll hand it to him, yes?" Marie sat up eagerly from her bed, her sudden question nearly throwing me off from the chair I was seated on.

My eyes went wide, "What?'

"It's easier that way, he'll receive it sooner! Sending it by post will be too complicated." She pouted.

I breathed shakily at the prospect of personally handing Erwin a love letter with my words poured into it. It was enough for me to malfunction, I would faint midway before I could ever hand it to him.

"You ask too much of me." I shook my head at Marie after recovering. "I don't want to be your personal messenger, Marie. It's embarrassing enough to write my older sister's love letters to my comrade, let alone personally hand it. Besides, it won't feel private anymore."

"Why?" She tilted her head to the side.

"The brother of your lover is handing you his sister's love letter. Doesn't it destroy all sense of intimacy and privacy? It is not a comfortable idea!"

And I just didn't want to face Erwin as he accepts the piece of paper. It would be to my greatest shame, not when I had poured my own personal feelings into it.

"Please, M/n!" She pleaded once more, she really was getting too used to this. "You're the only who I can rely to do this."

I hesitated, visibly.

She was asking for too much, but then I was reminded about the fact she is my sister. It was only weird for me because it's actually the guy I love whom I'm handing a love letter to. If it had been on a completely different circumstance, I would have been on board with it.

I had to play my part, for their happiness. I know. If I refuse so eagerly, then that would make my inner feelings terribly obvious. My reluctance would be suspected and my words would be left undelivered, perhaps rotting in a mailman's messenger bag as my sanity rots along with it.

"Fine." I gave in after moments of rethinking it.

She lit up immediately and pulled me into an overjoyed hug, shaking and squealing in excitement. A sound that had once brought me joy, now brought me guilt.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She chanted like a ritual, eyes filled with raw gratitude as she shakes my hands into hers.

I tried to reciprocate her look but all I could end up mustering was a small smile, hiding the weight I felt around my shoulders as they sagged.

"I owe you one, M/n!" Marie informed me, pulling me closer to whisper, "Just tell me if you like someone, your older sister here knows a woman's heart the best."

What were supposed to be words of encouragement quickly boiled down to a different meaning for me. I felt my chest clench as I thought of ways to possibly tell her. And yet, every path led me to an empty road.

So, I managed a half-assed chuckle. "Yeah." I nodded almost apathetically. I couldn't even bring myself to tell her that I was irrevocably in love with the man she was exchanging love letters with.

If she had known such betrayal, she wouldn't be able to smile at me like that; her eyes wouldn't be looking like she happy to see me.

All I could do to cope with the situation was wallow in self-pity.