erwin smith x male!reader
in which where marie's brother is forced to write letters for her lover in her stead but he finds a difficult time controlling his feelings-especially when her lover also happens to be the man he holds most affections...
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CHAPTER SIX
In a span of 2 months ever since Nile first started writing, nights like standing by his side as he wrote his feelings on a piece of paper while seated in the study table became a nightly routine for the lot of us.
Erwin's letters grew more and more faint, and mine only grew in numbers.
I believe he was holding back; for the sake of our friend, Nile, who seems to be devoted to solely Marie.
Ever since Nile had sent his first letter, I could tell Marie was overjoyed. Up to the point where she told me she could no longer pay attention to multiple love letters all at once and decided to entrust me the responsibility to write to Erwin without the need of her knowing specifically the contents of it.
I was vexed at first, but I could never stay mad at Marie.
And so, I began writing more freely now that I didn't need Marie to read it. I began to let my thoughts speak for itself, the words flowing as easily. But most nights, my hand was not nearly as fast as my mind— I couldn't exactly keep up to my trail of thoughts and so, I'd leave Marie's place with letters often unfinished.
For the past 2 months, I became brazen. Bolder. I started writing more without considering Marie's initial perspective. I was declaring love in a piece of paper in the most subtle way.
I knew it was wrong of me to do so. Especially when in that way was I leading Erwin on to believe Marie thought of him as deeply as I did. But I wrote with no intentions of harming him. I simply wrote with the intentions of expressing myself as a whole. Knowing awfully well that I could never tell him such words any other way.
I took the opportunity and grasped it. I let my mind run free as I wrote and wrote endlessly each week.
By a month and a half in, I had began signing the letters no longer with the clear name of my sister. I started writing our shared last name, my mind clouding its belief.
I thought it was inherently wrong, terribly so— to sign such absurd letter and pin it on Marie. To accuse her of feeling this strongly.
While 'Marie' increased the intensity and passion of her letters, Erwin's came less and less. Only ever sending perhaps twice a month with the short vagueness of a man writing to his mother.
And I believe I've done it. I scared the poor guy away.
Thus, warranting my misery.
In one evening as I return from my weekly visit to my sister's place (sneaking off obviously), I had been humming a small tune away as I walked around the cabin.
As I was about to climb up the small little stairs leading to the main entrance, I paused upon seeing a familiar blonde figure glint brighter under the moonlight.
