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...
"Come on, I'll take you to the infirmary." I hoisted him up carefully and watched cautiously as he shook his head.
"It's just a sprain."
"Then best to have it treated right away!" I exclaimed, forcing him to come with me to the clinic.
"Seriously, M/n. It's nothing. It'll heal in a few days."
"You can't be too careless, Erwin."
On the way to infirmary, Erwin had given up midway in trying to convince me he was all right, eventually- he had been the one to concede and was now patiently seated as a doctor inspected his hand.
"Hmm, other than bruising and perhaps a little pain when using your hand; it's fine." The doctor said, prompting Erwin to look at me with a 'see' look. "In a few days, it'll be fully healed. Just a mild sprain, 's all."
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
The next few days, my guilt piled up every time I see Erwin struggle slightly with little tasks he used to do in ease.
Like holding his spoon right, or buttoning his clothes, or in the current case- writing.
His dominant hand had been the one affected, making it difficult for him to hold his quill upright and move his hand to actually write. Peering over his shoulder, he still made a great deal of effort to do so.
I know he was just being kind. Trying not to show how he struggled while I was present, afraid I'd fall into an apologetic state once more.
He still made a great effort to write his letter to Marie, which affected me all the same. But I had no right to be upset, I knew that. Which was why I had to take responsibility and shove my feelings aside.
"Give me," I gestured towards the quill, watching him glance up at me with a curious look. "I'll help you."
He didn't fight me this time as he scooted over, letting me lean down to the table with full access while he handed me the quill with his shaky hand that had started bruising by the 2nd day.
I pursed my lips into a thin line before turning back to the paper, looking at the terrible handwriting- very unlike his typical neat penmanship that has received numerous praises in the past.
I pulled a new parchment and positioned my hand.
"I know this is going to be really awkward but you'll need to tell me what you want to write down. I understand if this is kinda intrusive for you—"
"To my dearest Thorne," he interrupted; proving to me he did not mind sharing his privacy with me.
I swallowed thickly, trying not to show how my hand trembled slightly. Why wasn't he using Marie? Since when had he changed the starting of his letter? Marie never told me about the change, but then again, she didn't care for such trivial matters.
