✓ bizarre love triangle ; erwin smith

EPILOGUE

But presented with this version of the other Thorne, I realized I couldn't have anyone else.

I couldn't feel the desire to have anything more.

I could feel my blood chant his name, his face the last image I see before drifting off to sleepless nights of thinking of him, his lips the only appetizer to seem to appetize me.

I was growing crazy.

"You're dreaming." He told me once after I had told him how enchanting he was, my words getting the best of me.

And yet, the feel of him so close to me made reality beg to differ.

"I never felt more lucid in my entire life." I had quickly retorted before hiding under the night.

Meeting his sister, I found an opportunity. A hopeful yet immorally conceiving one. But out of my desperation, I had orchestrated an entire plan to see if my feelings could ever have the hopes of being reciprocated.

It was small at first.

I sent Marie a letter, talking about how I wanted to continue talking to her in spite of the distance. I knew it was wrong to lead her on but it was necessary to create sacrifices in order to reach your goal.

I knew she would be intimidated. My writing was far too different from what she's used to with Nile, she'd feel the pressure of measuring up to it and realize her talent did not rely with the ability to formulate words. I was entirely hopeful that everything will go accordingly, that she'd turn to the one person anyone would logically choose to write responses for them.

I was skeptical at first.

M/n showed no interest in me romantically, but ever since the letters-I knew he was slowly revealing what really was behind that demeanor.

It was wrong, I know. To trick both siblings into this inconvenient scheme for my selfish desires.

But in order to want something is to be selfish, there was no excuse.

The only way I could get him to think about me, to tell me the words I could never hear straight directly from his mouth-was for him to write it before a quill, for him to pour his emotions in a piece of paper even if he had to sign it with Marie's name.

Asking Marie for a walk had been purely a test.

The moment I met her on the streets near the church, she had her hair down and a floral dress adorning her figure. And even so, the dullness of the dimly lit street matched her.

She did not shine as brightly as my sun, she did not possess a curious and incredibly inquisitive mind filled with literature, she did not burn with passion nearly as much.

The first question she had asked me was if I had preferred polka dots over stripes, and that was when I knew for certain she was not the words behind her love letters.

But the entire night, I felt relieved. Utterly relieved. With her, my interest died along with my words. A grave rightfully forgotten at the tip of my tongue as I rushed back to camp the moment she told me she was cold.

I agreed with her.

It was cold. And dull. Awfully dull.

I needed my warmth. I needed to feel alive once more. I needed my sun.

The door was locked once I arrived and I knew right away he had been waiting for me the moment I knocked and he rushed over to open it for me.

The candle was lit and a book was placed half-opened by his pillow. He had been waiting for me and I didn't want him to wait any longer.