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arteastica · 11 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (15)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 5.5k

You pushed the hardwood door carefully, just enough to allow yourself in. But, contrary to what you had expected, he wasn’t sitting at his desk.

Your eyes scanned the office, completely engulfed in darkness, and figured it must be very early in the morning. At this time, there was only one place he could be.

You headed for the door that led to his room and pushed it open slowly, careful not to make it creak more than necessary. You assumed he wouldn’t mind you inviting yourself into his personal space. You had been there before, not too long ago.

But he wasn’t there either.

Surprisingly.

The moonlight, sneaking in through the crystal windows, made the white sheets of his bed glow, and provided the only source of light in his cold, empty room. Cold. Why is it this cold? Your eyes instinctively traveled to the fireplace. He must have forgotten to light it on. It’s going to be freezing when he comes back. You thought. Because, maybe it wasn’t that early in the morning, after all. Maybe it was very late into the night, and he was yet to come back from wherever he had gone for the day.

You stood in the middle of the empty room. Waiting for something to happen. Anchored in place by the tightness pounding in your chest. Maybe it was the excitement you felt at the thought of seeing him again.

No. It was something else.

You turned your attention to the bookshelves, where he kept his journals, and scanned their spines as if searching for something. You knew what you were looking for, but you didn’t know how it looked. If that made sense.

There was a growing pit in your stomach. Maybe it was the anticipation you felt at the thought of being held in those strong, well-muscled arms once again.

No. It was something else.

Your painfully parched throat told you so. And your fingers, trembling as they reached for the small notebook lying forgotten on his bed, reminded you that you probably shouldn’t read what was clearly not written for you. Because that name, the one his impeccable handwriting was spelling on the first page, it wasn’t yours. It was the name of a woman, yes, but that woman was not you. And the more you stared, the more frustrated you grew, because the thing is, you actually didn’t know how to read this name. In fact, you didn’t even know what language it was. Oddly enough, you were certain it was a female name. Ilsa? Stella? Frida? Marie? It really didn’t matter. Did it?

You glanced over your shoulder in the direction of the door, the same way stray cats do before crossing the street. Your heart was beating in a forbidden way, while a dangerous cocktail of adrenaline and curiosity was influencing all your decisions. You stared at the notebook you held in your hands, and realized it was a twin of the black one he kept with him at all times. There was something about this one, however. It was thicker.

More tempting.

With hesitant fingers, and painful apprehension digging a hole in your chest, you finally turned the page. And, as soon as you read the first sentences, you understood it: you understood that it was her.

It must be her.

The one he was talking about in these entries.

Your vision started to get blurry, and, although you weren’t able understand all the sentences he had written, you understood enough.

‘…wonder what it would be like today.’

‘…thought I saw you the other day’ and

‘will never love another…’

It was exasperating, torturous even, to only understand pieces. The rest of the sentences were in a foreign language you had never seen in your life. The same language her name was written in.

“What are you doing?” A familiar, flat voice startled your heart out of rhythm.

You looked back, surprised to see Captain Levi standing in the doorway.

“I asked you a question.” His eyes traveled to the small notebook you held in your trembling hands, and then back to your face. “Stop crying, brat. You’re going to ruin the pages.”

Crying? You slowly lifted a hand to your face, and traced the wet trails running down your cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” Captain Levi asked.

“That’s what she usually does.” Another familiar voice, deeper than the Captain’s, could be heard approaching from the Commander’s office. “She doesn’t know better than to cry when she’s overwhelmed.” A wrinkled face, one you were fairly acquainted with, finally revealed itself. “I told you, that little habit of yours… that’s the one titans find particularly appetizing. Compose yourself!”

Instructor Shadis? What was he-

“Actually, I don’t care why you’re crying. Let’s get out of here before Erwin kicks us all out.” Captain Levi looked just as displeased as always.

“Where is the Commander?” You asked timidly, fearing you might get yelled at.

“He said he will be here by morning.” But this time it was Shadis the one to reply.

Morning? You looked at the windows, and squinted your eyes at how bright it was outside. Noon-bright. When had it gotten like that? Your eyes hurt. And the light was so intense it forced you to close them… until you couldn’t see anything anymore…

“He will be here in a few hours.” Your mother opened the curtains, welcoming the early morning sunlight into the room. Relief also found its way in through the crystal windows, as you realized this was your bedroom, not the Commander’s office, and that you hadn’t actually breached his trust by reading his private journals. You’d like to think the real you would never do such thing. She could still pride herself on the fact that she knew better. Better than to pry into other people’s private affairs.

And most importantly, you were glad. Glad you didn’t find a journal dedicated to her in the Commander’s room. If there was such thing after all, you were happy to never confirm its existence. Delighted to live in blissful ignorance forever. Or at least for as long as you could.

As you curled into a ball, blanket pulled all the way up to your chin, you stared at your mother, who was now lighting the fireplace, and basked in the relief you felt that it was just her, and not actually Captain Levi or Instructor Shadis. That would be awkward.

“Goodness. How were you able to sleep without the fire? It was freezing last night.” You smiled at her through heavy eyelids. You missed the base, that was true, but you couldn’t deny that it was nice to be back home, under the warm care of your mother. It was nice to-

Wait.

Who will be here in a few hours?

“I’m not interested.”

“Well, he clearly is. Otherwise he wouldn’t be coming all the way here just to see you.”

“I didn’t even know his name until literally five minutes ago. So no, Mother, I’m definitely not interested in meeting him.” You said as you added an immoderate spoonful of honey to your orange juice. “It’s a shame he’s spending his time and resources traveling all the way here.”

“I agree, so could you please just give him an opportunity?”

“Mother, this conversation is not helping my headache.”

“Headache?”

“I had a bad dream last night.” You explained, as you sat at the breakfast table.

“It’s not because of that. It’s because you forgot to light on the fireplace last night. You’re catching a cold.” She replaced the glass of orange juice you had just prepared, with a steaming cup of something that smelled delicious. “As I was saying, I know he’ll grow on you, like he did on your father.” Your mother also placed a bowl of peeled tangerines next to the bread basket. “Have these, I just sliced them. They’re as sweet as you like them. You’ll like him if you meet him.”

“Thank you.” You said, reaching for the bowl of fresh fruit. “I disagree, Mother. He may be nice, I believe you on that. Goodness. These are exceptional! Thank you.” You admitted, mouth completely stuffed, but fingers already reaching for the next slice regardless. “Anyway, where were we? Oh right! You can be sure I won’t be marrying him anytime soon.” You took a sip of the tea your mother had prepared for you, and closed your eyes as it warmed your insides, thinking about how much you wished to excel at something the way she did in the kitchen. “Or far, for that matter.”

No matter what this man your parents had invited for lunch looked or talked like, you knew you wouldn’t fall for him. And you said this with all the confidence and conviction a person’s heart was able to house. It was not impossible for this gentleman to be every bit as charming and good-looking as your mother had described, he could be all that and more, but you knew it was physically impossible for him to ‘grow’ on you, regardless. Not when there was no space available. Because, the thing is, someone else had already started setting roots on the land where that type of feelings were supposed to grow.

“Who’s even talking about marriage?” Your mother sighed as if she had just heard the most outrageous of ideas. “Honey, you don’t have to choose him if he’s not the right one. You don’t even have to look at marriage today if that’s not what you want. Just think of him as a new friend.” But? You knew there was more to it. “But, unless you are planning to stay single forever, you are going to have to go through this at some point or another. Sooner or later. That is a fact. Are we on the same page?” You nodded, mouth still full of tangerine slices. “And, look at you, you’ve already blossomed into womanhood!” The emphasis your mother placed on that last sentence made it sound as if it had happened just yesterday. “Isn’t it better to go through all this process now? While you’re young and have plenty of charm, as well as the attention of such a respectable, young man?”

Your mom sat on the chair beside yours, and remained silent as she watched you spread butter on your toast. But, after a few minutes, she sighed. And the gentle, warm hand she placed on your shoulder told you that you were about to get to the part where she explained why this meeting was so important to her.

“Honey, I think it’s time you start thinking about this part of your future too. It needs some of that attention.” She spoke softly, although there was audible worry and desperation in her voice. “Just a little of that attention you give to that professional side of yours, which, don’t get me wrong!” She rushed to add. “I understand that too, and I’m happy that you have a job you feel so passionate about. Your father and I, although scared, are very proud of you. You look so healthy and happy for someone who is in the Survey Corps.” You chuckled, remembering how many letters you had to write to your parents after you told them you had joined the scouts. You had lost count of how many weeks you spent trying to calm and reassure them, trying to convince them that you weren’t suicidal in any shape or form.

“But I’m just worried. I worry about you, honey. Everyday. Not only because of the dangers of your line of work, but also because, once you go back to the base and seclude yourself down there for another year, your chances of meeting someone…” She paused and looked at your plate, as if asking the bread if the words she was about to say were the right ones. “Your chances of meeting the right one, will decrease dramatically. And although it may seem like I’m forcing this situation on you, I promise you that is not my intention. At the end of the day, the choice is yours. You can sit around and wait until the right one comes, or you can start taking steps to meet him.”

While you appreciated your mother’s words and her sincere concerns about your future, you would certainly appreciate it more if she hadn’t arranged this meeting in the first place. But, although you weren’t excited at all about spending your Sunday afternoon faking smiles to please some random stranger while he bragged about the country estate he had just acquired, you knew your mother meant well. And, you also knew that, regardless of this man’s looks, wealth, or personality, this meeting was not leading anywhere, at least not anywhere near the destination your mother had in mind. Plus, he was already coming anyway, and nothing you said would stop this lunch from happening. So, all things considered, you rolled your eyes and sighed one more time before giving a reluctant nod to your mother.

“Who is this Lord Angert again?”

When his lips met the back of your hand and his forest green eyes looked up to meet yours, you had a déjà vu. When he handed you the box of figs he had so kindly brought for you, you also had a déjà vu. You had the exact same tin box in your night stand back at the base.

And when a bitter gust of wind carried in the familiar smell of climbing hydrangeas, you couldn’t help but travel back in time, to that chilly night last fall. Back then, however, the scent of the flowers was saturated with addictive, musky notes, and soaked in the smell of frost. Now, the air was infused with lemon and cinnamon, as well as the smoky smell left by the midday sun as it tried to warm up the pavement.

That night, the hair had been blonde, not hazel. Oh, and your heart, your heart had been threatening to break your ribcage. But now, it seemed to be sleeping soundly inside your chest.

“Thank you for accepting to meet me in such short notice, my lady.”

“Thank you for coming all the way here, my lord.” You smiled politely at the tall, fair-skinned man you had in front of you. He was surprisingly young. You had been expecting someone a little older, who looked and acted like those you had met at the ball, since your mother said that was where you had ‘charmed’ this man. But so far, at least on the outside, Lord Angert seemed to be nothing like that.

“You might not remember me, so I’ll introduce myself again.” You realized the color of his voice, as well as the way his luscious wavy hair excitedly danced with the wind, were the main factors contributing to his youthful appearance. He could be your age. Or even younger. And you really didn’t remember seeing anyone like that at the party. “Leon Angert, at your service.” He smiled and his eyes adopted the shape of crescent moons.

“Have we met before, my lord?”

He let out chuckle that could only be described as refreshing, one that let you know he already suspected you wouldn’t remember him, and then said: “We did. The night of the charity ball. We were introduced by my uncle, Lord Koch. Well, actually my uncle introduced me to Commander Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps, and you were with him, so yes, I guess we met by association.”

You found his response quite amusing. What did that even mean? Didn’t everyone meet by association? You looked down at the tin box you held in your hands, trying to buy yourself some time while you browsed through your recollections of that night, seeing if you could find something. But it was no use, all you could remember was the Commander, his face, his tuxedo, his scent, his voice, and his touch. Especially his touch. Because even though he was now miles away, your lower back still tickled from where his fingertips had left their lingering mark that night.

“It’s okay to not remember. I’m not known for leaving lasting impressions.” Lord Angert said, and you felt sorry for the man. It wasn’t his fault. You were sure you would have remembered him if it wasn’t because all your attention had been monopolized by the man whose arm you had been holding onto the entire evening. Every single memory you had of that fall night was about him, and what he did, what he said to you, where he touched you. If it made Lord Angert feel any better, you didn’t remember anyone else from that party either. Save Lord Wald. But that was because of entirely different reasons, reasons you were trying to forget about.

“Well, it’s nice to formally meet you. Again.” You gave the man a friendly smile, trying to warm him from the freezing weather. And speaking about that, “Please come in, my family is waiting for you inside.”

As you guided him to the sunroom, you couldn’t help but notice how your footsteps felt way less heavy than you remembered they were when you went to open the door for him. At least at first glance, Lord Angert was nothing like you had imagined. You had braced yourself for dealing with some presumptuous guy, but the fact that he seemed to be decently kind and basic-mannered made the prospect of this afternoon look slightly more bearable. And you snorted to yourself, thinking about all the unnecessary drama your overthinking always put you through. You did have a tendency to catastrophize, after all. Your parents would never set up their daughter with the likes of Lord Wald. Would they?

And you were right. You had to admit that, even a couple hours later, this little reunion was going better than expected. It didn’t feel like an awkward date. It was more like a Sunday gathering with a cousin or a family friend. In addition, what your mother had said earlier was completely true, your father really liked Lord Angert. They had been engaging in a lengthy, animated, and quite interesting, conversation about mysterious, seedless pumpkins, and you were happy to be able to just sit back, listen, and enjoy your mother’s cooking.

“How’s Hansel?” Your father asked after he had grown tired of so much vegetable talk.

“Pretty good. He’s been quite busy supervising the training of the foals.”

“Training? That early?”

Lord Angert nodded as he took a sip of spiced wine. “The earlier you start training, the earlier you’ll see results. And, even as advanced adults, they will be sharper and more quick-witted than those who start training after two years, which is the standard.”

“Pretty interesting stuff.” Your father concluded, scratching his chin.

“That’s the secret to make the animals age exuberantly. I actually came to Mitras to supervise the acclimation of the yearlings we sold to the Military Police last month.”

So he hadn’t come just to see you as your mother had implied. For some reason, knowing that you weren’t the only reason he came to the capital made you feel very relieved and light.

“What breed are the yearlings?”

“We’ve been mostly focusing on draft horses. Black Forest and Friesian, to be more specific. They’re both relatively small, yet muscular, which makes them capable of pulling heavy carriages at high speeds.” Lord Angert explained animatedly, clearly appreciating your father’s interest in the topic. “They’re faster and braver. And not as sensitive to noise, which means they don’t get scared as easily.”

You didn’t know what breed the horses back at the base were, but you wondered if the Survey Corps used a similar training for their animals, since they were the calmest, smartest horses you had ever seen. They adapted so well to any rider, whether it was their usual person or a complete stranger.

“So, Lord Angert. You met our daughter at the charity ball last fall?” Your mother was clearly trying to stir the conversation into a direction you found particularly uncomfortable.

“That’s right, my lady. Uncle Hansel is good friends with Commander Smith of the Survey Corps, whom I believe your lady daughter is working under. And that’s how we were introduced. This pie is delicious by the way.” He commented, clearly more interested in the consistency of the pie’s crust than recalling the night you met. And you couldn’t help but find your mother’s disappointment quite amusing.

“My daughter doesn’t just work under Erwin Smith. She is his personal assistant. His right hand, if you will.” Your father spoke in that pretentious manner of his, the one he used when he wanted to embellish his stories or make a situation seem more important than it actually was. And this was the part where you usually cringed, every time. “He really appreciates her. Did you know he once saved her life during an expedition? It was my daughter’s first time beyond the walls.” But this time, you weren’t cringing, surprisingly. You had to admit you actually really enjoyed the sensation caused by the balloon growing inside your chest as your father narrated the story. He was making it his, however, obviously adding his personal touch, as well as some scenes that weren’t in the original version you had told him some months ago.

Lord Angert seemed just as interested in the story as you. And you finally understood why your father liked him. Your father loved to talk and Lord Angert was happy to listen, while he munched on the rhubarb pie.

“Truly remarkable, isn’t it? If it wasn’t for him slicing the titan’s head with one swift motion of his sword, my daughter wouldn’t be here with us today.” Your father concluded after minutes of talking, taking a sip of his wine. “I didn’t expect less of from the Commander of the Survey Corps. And, after the charity ball, he even made sure our daughter got home safe. I didn’t get to thank him personally that night. I’d like to do just that one day. But I digress, bottom line is he is very protective of my daughter.” A pleasant warmth spread throughout your skin, making you smile widely. You had never seen it that way, but now that your father mentioned it, the Commander was indeed protective of you.

“I know Erwin Smith is taking good care of my daughter.” At those words, the warm sensation started spreading to very inappropriate areas, namely the one between your legs. And, for some equally inappropriate reason, your mind didn’t hesitate to provide you with very detailed, explicit images of the commander fingering you in his office, after you had stripped for him. On the night you had slept together. And visuals were not the only thing you could call to mind, you could also hear your own moans, very vividly, as well as the sound of his wet fingers sliding in and out of your throbbing hole, as you moaned his name over and over, asking him to give you more. You pressed your legs tight against each other, deciding you probably had issues you needed to work on, since it was lunch time on a Sunday, for goodness sake.

“Commander Smith is truly a remarkable man. My uncle only has good things to say about him.”

“And that means a lot coming from Hansel, considering how fond he is of talking foul about others.” Your father’s laughter filled the room the same way the sun rays sneaking through the glass ceiling did, while Lord Angert chuckled and shook his head lightly, clearly acknowledging there was some truth in those words. And after a while, he said:

“Did you know Commander Smith regularly donates books to schools and libraries in the countryside? I heard it from my uncle.” Lord Angert explained with a motion of his fork. “Uncle Hansel was very good friends with Commander Smith’s late father. He used to do just the same before passing.” You leaned forward, suddenly more interested in this conversation than ever before. You never thought you would learn so much about the Commander under your own roof on such a random day, and from a complete stranger of all people. “And it’s not only children his kindness extends to. He pays my uncle a yearly commission for the rehabilitation of horses who have been injured while on duty.” Lord Angert paused to enjoy a slice of tangerine, and, in the meantime, you wondered how much the balloon in your chest could grow before bursting. “I’ve heard the other military branches just put them down. But Erwin Smith created a fund for their rehabilitation when he took office. And, as a horse enthusiast myself, I can’t help but respect the man.”

‘Is that true?’, your father asked you in the form of a glance he sent your way, and you nodded fervently, unable to stop a proud smile from taking over your features. This was the first time you heard about all this, but it wasn’t hard to believe the Commander would do all that and more. It was so in character for him. It was in his nature. And, at this point, you were convinced you would never get to see the full picture of him, no matter how far back you stepped.

You couldn’t help but notice that there was something refreshing in the air, and it wasn’t just the brisk winter breeze blowing outside, nor the lemonade you were drinking. A conversation that painted the Commander and the Scouts in a positive light was one of the last things you expected to hear during a family meal, and much less from your father or an aristocrat like Lord Angert, given how used you were to the negative talk you grew up listening to.

“I’ll admit I didn’t have many good things to say about Erwin Smith and his people, but that was before my daughter became one of them. You know, his right hand.” He cleared his throat in an attempt to seem unassuming, but clearly struggling in the process. “However, on my defense, back then, I was only going by what I read in the newspapers.”

“I’m sure he is a gentleman of exceptional character and bravery.” Your mother commented before turning to her guest. “It was a fortunate meeting, indeed.”

You were confused at first, and judging by the way Lord Angert froze, mouth open and fork in hand, so was he.

“At the ball that night. Between you two.” Your mother was not going to give up so easily, was she? You noticed the way she glared at your father, urging him to stick to the topic and cooperate.

“Right.” Your father cleared his throat again. “Hansel mentioned my daughter’s beauty was turning heads at the ceremony.” Your eyes rolled all the way to the back of your skull, and you cringed, not exactly because of the cold.

“Indeed, my lord. She looked truly captivating in her gown.”

“What dress did you wear, honey? I never saw it, now that I think about it. You were wearing that coat.” You almost choked on the sip of lemonade you had just taken, your mother’s question making your throat itch all of a sudden.

“The skill of the tailor and quality of the material really shone through.” Lord Angert replied on your behalf before turning to your mother, his eyes becoming crescent moons once again. “My lady, I’m deeply ashamed of my ravenous appetite, but, at the risk of coming across as gluttonous and opportunistic, I musk ask, do we have more of this glorious compote? My sweet tooth can’t get enough of this sensational texture!” You looked at him, and couldn’t help but return his complicit smile, fully knowing he really didn’t crave more dessert.

“I believe I should thank you for saving me from my mother’s scolding back there.” You said a while later, as you walked past your favorite tea house. The sun had already begun making its descent, but the afternoon was still warm enough to take a stroll around the neighborhood.

“No problem. I know what an unpleasant experience it is to be to be lectured by one’s parents, whether it is about wardrobe choices or one’s personal taste.” He replied, eyes looking straight at the path ahead of him, and you couldn’t help but feel that there was some deeper, darker meaning buried under those words, but you figured it wasn’t your place to pry.

“Mother says your background is in poetry, my lord.”

He nodded as the wind played with his locks. “I enjoy penning useless sentences from time to time.” He said, smiling in an unassuming manner.

“Really? Mother definitely made it sound as something more significant and special than casual penning.” She had also mentioned Lord Angert had partially moved to a cabin in a remote mountain village, so he could work on his new book without distractions. It sounded like a fascinating, rather cozy place to live. You looked at him with the intention of asking about his lifestyle, but that’s when you noticed his stare was completely lost in the cobblestones below his feet. He looked at them as if trying to choose the starting words to a tiresome speech, one he didn’t want to deliver.

“My lady.” He turned to you and, although he had only said two words so far, took a long, deep breath. “Your lady mother probably told you that I came all the way to Mitras because I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I met you at the charity ball. That’s what Uncle Hansel told your parents when he arranged our meeting last month, and I’m fully aware of how desperate it makes me look, and how uncomfortable it must make you feel to have a complete stranger suddenly so interested in you that he would come all the way to the capital just to see you. That’s why I would like you to know that all I said that night was that you looked stunning, and that I didn’t know Commander Smith was married to a lady of such staggering beauty.” He stringed all those sentences together very quickly, and without pausing to breathe, as if he feared oxygen would prevent the words from coming out. “And my uncle must have heard something completely different, because the next thing I knew is he has set up a meeting with your parents.”

“And they practically forced you to meet me.” You completed the sentence for him. “Goodness! That is so unbelievably embarrassing. My parents literally made it seem like it was love at first sight and you were going to propose to me by noon.”

“Well, I guess that’s why Uncle Hansel and your lord father are such good friends. They’re both very creative storytellers.”

You chuckled and, afterwards, all you could hear was your footsteps and the sound of the water running down the city canals. The silence was not the uncomfortable type, however. It was mutually conceded.

When you reached the city hall bridge, you felt compelled to speak. But before you could, he stopped walking, turned to you, and said:

“I don’t mean to hurt your pride, my lady, and make no mistake, you are absolutely beguiling, and I’m sure any gentleman would be over the moon if fortune presented them with even the slimmest of chances they could be promised your hand in marriage; but I’m afraid that, in the case of this senseless fool, the flame of romantic desire is not burning as bright as the wish I have to start a friendship with you.”

You laughed in a way your mother would have surely found strident. Lord Angert was truly a poet, after all. “That has to be the most beautiful way of saying ‘you were not what I was expecting’ I have ever heard.”

Lord Angert laughed and you joined him soon after. You appreciated his sincerity.

“Thank you very much for understanding, my lady. With that unnecessary social baggage out of the way, we can finally move to other topics. I believe you are acquainted with my good friend Jean.”

“Kirstein? Yes, he is in another unit, but we went to training camp together.” You explained, eyes studying the way the water sparkled under the sun. You had always found it mesmerizing. “Jean. How did you two meet, my lord?”

“You can just call me Leon.” He said, a smile carving dimples into his cheeks.

Later that evening, after both you and the sun had gone to sleep, your mind replayed the events of that day for you, in the form of a dream. But in the dream, the man sitting beside you at the family table, the one holding your hand as he charmed your father with exciting stories and complimented your mother’s rhubarb pie, he had golden strands instead of hazel locks, and sapphires instead of emeralds. And he would also hold your hand a little later as you strolled along the city canals, and he would only let go once you reached the bridge, where he would hold your waist instead, as his lips would linger on yours in the same entrancing yet melancholic way the setting sun did on the water.

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