Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Wait, what the hell are you .. ?”

“Armin, it’s over. I… I can’t do this shit anymore. It’s not fair to you. Or to me. Whatever this is… we can’t.”

Those few sentences hit like a knife to a chest, one hell of a persistent one, too. One that just kept twisting and twisting and twisting, its main goal being to elicit as much pain as humanly possible. And it was a lot, slow and torturous. How was this any more fair? What was his problem? Fuck, it was hard being in love with your best friend, especially when that friend is Eren Yeager.

Armin and Eren have been friends since before they could even fully grasp the concept of a best friend. They’d just seen each other and clicked. Or .. Eren had found him, crying at the end of a school yard after being picked on by some of the older kids. The blonde was weird, they said. Too skinny, too quiet, too dorky, too weird. For some reason, that was good enough reason to torment him. It was good enough reason to follow him through the halls or take his lunch. It was good enough reason to use his despair as entertainment. Armin didn’t have many friends. He didn’t really have anyone to look out for him. Not until that fateful day.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” is all the blonde heard through his own sniffles. Hearing is all he could really do with his eyes filled with tears, paired with an embarrassingly sniffly nose that made it look like he had a god awful cold. He almost doesn’t peer up, too shy. What if it’s someone else who wants to try to shove his scrawny ass into a locker, ‘Dude, he’d totally fit. He’d probably be in there the whole weekend, who’s gonna go lookin’ for him?’ But against his better judgement, he does lift his face from the sleeves of his jacket, already soaked with snot and tears.

Armin blinks rapidly to rid his eyes of the obstructed view, a wobbly figure visible just behind it. Eventually he sees him, a boy about his age, brown hair and bright teal eyes. He looks .. confused, like he can’t possibly fathom why anyone would be sitting in the dirt during lunchtime alone .. with no lunch.

“W- .. what?” comes an unsteady, meek voice. Suddenly he wishes he’d never spoken because now the panic arises .. this boy hasn’t attacked him yet, but what if he’s realised how pathetic he really is, an easy target, and now it’s his chance? Blue eyes squeeze shut, arms bracing in front of his face and he waits … and waits .. and-

“I said, what’s wrong with you? And what the hell are you doing?” Huh? No punches come, nor do any kicks. No, not even a malice word comes flying in the smaller boy’s direction. A good start, he supposes. Hesitantly, the arms come down away from his head, lowering back to his lap. As do his eyes open, once more peering upward, “Was it those assholes I always see around you? I’ll kick their asses, just say the word! Actually… if they come near you again, I think I’ll do it anyway!”

Who the hell was this? So young and speaking with such determination, such conviction, and for someone he didn’t even know at all. How interesting. A moment after the words seem to settle in the blonde’s brain, a hand is extended toward him. This time he doesn’t flinch because he’s not sure what exactly it is about this boy, but Armin doesn’t think he’d hurt him. He takes it, small hands linking, allowing for the brunet to pull him to unsteady feet. He almost trips, but the boy catches him. He shoots him a smile, big and toothy, and goddamnit .. despite his crying just moments prior, Armin can’t help but smile too. It was contagious.

“The name’s Eren, by the way. Eren Yeager,” Eren. Yeah, the blonde knew it from the moment right there, he wanted this guy to be his friend.

He was. He kept to that declaration, he did end up facing Armin’s group of bullies despite being a few heads shorter than them. Armin would watch in awe as the brunet would manage to grab the leader of them by the collar and slam him against a wall, his face twisted into a sick scowl. The punches delivered right to his flabby torso were probably overkill, the blonde could already see the fear painted across features from the verbal threat alone. Don’t lay another finger on Armin again or I’ll make you wish you didn’t have fingers at all. No one had ever done anything like that for him, not ever. It made something ignite inside his little chest, something burning yet soft .. something he couldn’t explain. It’d be something he wouldn’t be able to explain for years to come yet, all he knew was that he needed Eren around. He didn’t want anyone to take him away from him.

They were inseparable. They couldn’t be torn apart for very long. People would talk about it, they’d call the bond they had .. a little creepy. Neither of them paid it any mind because why should they care what everyone else thought? They had their own little world, a world that no one else could gain access to if they even tried.

Come highschool, it’s when their relationship would start to shift. With the development of their bodies, the welcoming of hormones, the growing tension, it was obvious to both of them that something was different. Touches started to linger, gazes lasted long, drawn out seconds. Butterflies seemed to set up shop in the blonde’s stomach and by this point, Armin knew exactly what this was. He liked Eren. Who was he kidding? He had a full blown, school girl crush on the other boy. He liked Eren, not some girl, not the pretty blonde who sat beside him in class, and that wasn’t the part that ached so bad. It was funny, he thought, how realising he liked boys as well as girls wasn’t as difficult as realising he may have loved his best friend.

The first time they kissed, they were buzzed. Eren had snuck some alcohol from his parents and the pair were sat camped out in Armin’s backyard, in a cheap tent they’d both pitched in to buy. The appeal of it would wear off soon. But in that moment, they’d lie in it, almost pressed against each other due to the lack of real space, bodies loose from the few bottles of beers they’d put away. They’d talk about nothing yet everything at the same time. They’d laugh, Eren would tease Armin about not yet having a girlfriend. Armin would accidentally blurt out that he doesn’t like a girl. Not at the moment. This is also the night that Eren would find out that his best friend also liked boys. More teasing would ensue, ‘So what about me?’ he’d say. The blonde would question him about it.

“What about me? Do you find me attractive? C’mon, you gotta tell me. Y’know, if I was a dude, I’d totally still do m-” Yes. “Oh. Cool.” Ah… he said that aloud. Loose lips brought with his fuzzy, inebriated mind. The brunet would stare at him after that confession, expression as curious as the day they’d met, brows furrowed like he was trying to figure out the answer to a complicated puzzle. Armin would be half expecting him to laugh it off, maybe tease him about it before shoving another beer into his pale hand. He never does. No, he’d just keep staring, and then … “Would you kiss me?”

He’d never even realise he was nodding desperately until Eren’s breath was ghosting over his own lips. He could feel his heart rate pick up and he’d suddenly start reconsidering if it were possible for a heart to beat straight out of one’s chest. He’d hear Eren gently asking permission, to which Armin would grant it with a soft whisper. And then lips would press together and it’d feel like heaven and the greatest sin packed into one. This was it. This was what he wanted, and yet this was the start of something more complex than he could have ever asked for. It’d be worth it, he’d think. Anything to keep Eren around him, and to keep Eren his. He could handle awkwardness that’d follow this night, he could stomach the denial that may come from the brunet. He could manage. He could.

By the time college rolled around and they were both adults, something had changed again. They weren’t together, they were still .. ‘just friends’ as Eren had made a point to remind Armin any chance he could get. But they were definitely more than just friends. Because two boys who were just friends didn’t make out when they were alone and enjoyed every last second of it, kissing the breath from each other’s mouths until they were red in the face. Boys who were just friends didn’t flirt with each other or let their hands linger on each other’s bodies. Boys who were just friend’s didn’t have hearts that pounded and stomachs that flipped violently when they were around the other. That last one .. that was at in Armin’s case, at least. This is what he thinks someone would call a situationship. The blonde didn’t like the word, it didn’t feel like it was enough. He felt it didn’t fully describe how gentle their interactions could be and how desperate they could cling on to one another. He didn’t feel like it did them any justice. But really, what else could fit them? They were best friends in public, and just a little something more in secret. It made him feel sick, but again, at least Eren was still his, right? They were Eren and Armin, just them. Just them and their weird little dynamic. Until he wasn’t.

“Armin, it’s over. I… I can’t do this shit anymore. It’s not fair to you. Or to me. Whatever this is… we can’t.”

“What are you talking about? Eren, we can, we have been. What is this?”

The brunet groans, a hand reaching up to grip at his hair. The grasp looks tight, he only does this when he’s really fucking frustrated. 

“You’re not my fucking boyfriend, okay? We can’t keep doing…” his hands start waving around widely, as if that’ll help get his words through the blonde’s thick skull. But Armin can hear him perfectly clear. In fact, he understands every syllable that pours from those lips, the one’s he’d kissed only a few hours prior. The thing was, that he couldn’t accept this outcome, and why should he? Eren was, what, breaking up with him? Not breaking up, it couldn’t be. They were never really in a real relationship. Still, whatever this was, it fucking hurt, “ this. We can’t keep doing this. I’m not even fucking gay, okay? It’s been real nice, I won’t deny it, ‘lright? Making out when you’re fuckin’ higher than a kite is great. But this.. no. I can’t keep doing it. Tell me, Armin. Tell me you understand.”

There’s a long moment of silence and though the blonde wants to frown, he wants to yell and say no, don’t just leave me like that, he doesn’t. Even though he wants to say that this is what isn’t fair. What, does he like someone else? Is he sick of Armin? Could he not keep him satisfied? Whatever. Instead, he just nods. In fact, he smiles, subtle and sweet. His shoulders shrug, and he can almost laugh at the way Eren wears that same confused expression, the one that is just so very .. him. If Eren wanted to cut him out like this, that was fine. Well, it wasn’t, not really. But it just meant that Armin had to try harder, because his heart couldn’t take this. It couldn’t. He unfortunately can’t contain all the bitterness, some of it slipping through the cracks when he speaks.

“Okay, Eren. I understand.”

He didn't. He wanted to cry. He would cry. Later, when he wasn't being perceived by anyone else. All he could hope for was that perhaps Eren would be the one to understand soon enough. That they didn't belong apart.

Chapter Text

The blaring sound of the alarm hits like a freight train. Loud, piercing, fucking annoying. Armin doesn’t want to get up, screw that noise. Maybe if he ignores the sound long enough, it’ll go away. But he knows it won’t, not when he leaves his phone out of arm’s reach for this very reason, so he won’t be tempted to mindlessly shut off the alarm and drift back into the dream realm. 

He doesn’t, he has far too much to do today. Unfortunately. So, begrudgingly, the blonde peels his body away from the warm cocoon of blankets and off of the mattress entirely. It takes a minute to peel his eyes open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light of the room. He already regrets it. He regrets not just staying in bed and rotting. The light hurts, his ears hurt from the endless ringing, his head hurts, everything hurts. And holy fuck, he might just smash his phone with a goddamn hammer if he doesn’t reach it soon enough. He grabs the damn thing and aggressively hits the button to shut the noise off. Quiet.

Technically, nothing else is stopping him from just falling back into the safety of his bed. If he were to just lie there forever, curled up and ready to live out the rest of his days there, no one would stop him. They wouldn’t find him in time. He suddenly gasps, feeling a stinging on his cheek. The abrupt pain snaps him from his dramatised thoughts.  He’d been slapped.. staring dumbfounded for a brief moment before realising that the hand to do that had been his own. Armin had just smacked himself. Well, it certainly shut him up. Mentally, he still hadn’t uttered a real word yet.

The boy rolls his eyes at his own stupidity and now with a slightly clearer mind, he forces himself to dress, which is strange considering he has to first undress entirely. It’d appear that the blonde had ended up sleeping in his clothes from the day before, shoes and all, something he didn’t usually do. He’s half tempted to just stay in those same clothes and call it a day. He doesn’t. He also doesn’t put too much care into an outfit, just replacing his current one with another pair of comfortable pants, another baggy shirt, and a jacket at least one size too big. It was fine. He looks down at himself and shrugs. Sure, it’d work, dismissing himself quickly afterwards before making his way out of his room and into the bathroom.

He’s not entirely sure what he’s expecting to see when he glances up into the mirror when he goes to brush his teeth, but the sight he’s met with this morning makes him wince. Armin eyes the figure in front of him, pale, red-rimmed eyes, dark circles. The blonde’s hair was completely astray, as if he’d been caught in a storm. There was no sugarcoating it, he looked like shit. And as he leans forward on the cold counter, over the sink, meeting his reflection up close like he was about to start interrogating it, he remembers why he looks the way he does. The memories coming back to him don’t help, doing the complete opposite. Curse his damn alarm.

When he gets home that night, the door slams behind him. He doesn’t even mean to, his arms just use more force than he’d ever need. He doesn’t dwell on it for long, he can’t even find it in himself to care. Feet quickly carry him upstairs to his room so he can lock himself in before the tears start falling. He can feel them behind his eyes. The sound of his grandfather’s voice is vaguely heard calling after him as he all but stomps up each stair, he doesn’t respond. His door is slammed too and maybe this time it’s purposeful. Maybe he’s trying to release some of the anger built inside his lithe figure. The lock is clicked shut, his bag is carelessly tossed, and he flops himself down onto his bed face first, unceremoniously burying himself into his flat pillows.

He hasn’t even taken his shoes off, but again, he doesn’t give a shit. He just screams, feet kicking like a child having a temper tantrum. Tears flow freely now, soaking the material beneath his face, making it stick uncomfortably to skin. He doesn’t care. His grandfather is knocking at his door, worry evident in his voice. He doesn’t care. His hands are pulling at his blonde strands hard enough to rip them from his head. He does not care. Because Armin is mad, he’s upset. He had to wonder where Eren got off rejecting him like that after… years of their complicated, more than friends type of friendship. 

‘You’re not my fucking boyfriend, okay?’

He knew that. He never asked for that despite his longing. He never asked for anything except for Eren himself, he never cared what they called themselves, even if it hurt to be nothing. So why was this happening? Why was Eren… ending it? And why did it take him so long when he seemed so .. Didn’t he like screwing around, wasn’t that fun? Even if the blonde wanted it to be more than that… Armin didn’t know how the brunet expected him to just be okay with going back to normal, as if their lips haven’t touched and their hands haven’t wandered over each other’s bodies. How did he expect him to be okay with all that disappearing? When his thoughts were packed full of the other boy? When his heart ached to be close to him? He had too many questions and not enough answers. He had no answers so here he was, sobbing himself nauseous over a fucking guy he was never even with. 

“Armin, I’m… there’ll be food downstairs for you if you want. ‘nd if you need me, y’know where to find me, son. I love you.”

Oh. The gentle sound of his grandfather’s voice, he can hear it in between the choked cries that catch in his throat. He’s not sure how long the man’s been standing outside his door, he doesn’t even know how much time is passing. It all feels like one hell of a blur, like he’s taken something and it’s altering his perception of… everything. And his parting words, fuck, he didn’t deserve them. The support and the love and the kindness, Armin didn’t deserve any of that when he was acting this pathetic. It only makes him cry harder, it makes his stomach churn painfully and threaten bile to rise up and of his throat. He swallows everything down because he thinks if he throws up now, he wouldn’t have it in him to even move, leaving himself lying in a pile of his own filth. Pathetic. Maybe this is why Eren didn’t want him.

Sobs eventually start to subside. Again, he doesn’t know how long that takes. Small, gross sniffles and quiet hiccups replace the cries. A dull throbbing burns in his skull, eyes squeezing shut in response. He feels sick, and for what? For someone who probably wasn’t shedding a single tear over him? Hell, he probably hasn’t given Armin a second thought since their confrontation a little over an hour ago. No, fuck Eren. He didn’t deserve the blonde’s tears… he doesn’t. So he forces himself to stop with another tug at his hair. He shouldn’t have to ruin himself for someone who doesn’t give as much of a shit. Not for an asshole who dragged him along for all this time. But even then, even with these thoughts he’s trying to convince himself of, why the fuck was it so hard?

Whatever, it doesn’t matter now. Not when he’s being seduced into the comfort of sleep, exhausted from spilling out all of his emotions in the form of tears. Sleep. Yeah, that sounded nice. Everything else could wait ‘til morning…

He was a whole new level of lame. Blue eyes squeeze shut throughout the duration of brushing his teeth, he can’t bear to look at the sight anymore. It goes by quickly, splashing water on his face afterward and messing with the stubborn blonde locks on his head. He still doesn’t look nor feel his best, but it’d have to do. He was meeting his friends for some coffee before his morning class, something they’d often do when given the chance. It was weirder for them not to meet up. He wishes he had the guts to call it off for the day. He could just send Mikasa a quick text to say he isn’t feeling too hot this morning and he’d just see them later. It’d be so easy. Armin is too much of a coward for even that, which means he’ll be headed out in the next few minutes and he’ll have to see him. Awesome.

Without sparing another glance at his reflection, Armin trudges out of the bathroom and down stairs. He pauses when he gets to the bottom of them, breath hitching. On the couch is his grandfather, snoring steadily. He must’ve been there the whole night, probably waiting up just in case, spending the whole night worrying. And if that didn’t make the blonde feel any worse… He wouldn’t wake him up now. He’d just have to apologise to him after classes when he got home later that day, though he dreaded it. He was sure the elder man would have questions for him. His lip is sucked in between teeth, worrying at the flesh. Whatever, another thing he’d have to worry about later. He had people to meet. Carefully, he takes light steps over to the man, leaving a gentle kiss atop his forehead, whispering a quiet goodbye and then he’s out the door.

“Woah, you look like shit,” as per usual, words of brutal honesty from the raven. It’s the first thing she even says to him as she joins him at their designated hangout spot, her own cup of coffee held in her hands to match his. He wouldn’t expect anything less and said words bring a humorless chuckle out from cracked lips, usually plump and soft, dehydrated like the rest of him. Jesus.. he was a fucking mess. He imagined he looked just about as great as he felt. Which checked out considering he also felt like shit. Usually, his head only felt this bad when he was cramming for a test, studying more than he actually needed and skipping sleep entirely.

“And you look great, Mikasa,” he responds in turn, a hint of playfulness in his tone to match her observation, but meaning it all nonetheless. Mikasa was always beautiful, effortlessly so. And he’s seen her first thing in the morning, other than a few stray hairs, she really does just wake up like that. Well, other than the makeup she puts on afterward, but, that more so accentuates her already jaw-dropping features. Armin thinks that if his heart hadn’t already been marked by someone else, she might be the type of girl he’d see himself having a crush on. She was tough and blunt, extremely protective. He felt safe around her, and though it may be surprising when looking at them from an outsider’s perspective - a timid bookworm stood beside an intimidating girl adorned in all black - their dynamic just worked. She was exactly the type of person that the blonde wanted to be around. She was like the female, more level-headed, equivalent of him. Except she hasn’t done anything to snap his heart in two.

The pair settles into comfortable conversation, sipping gingerly at their coffees. It doesn’t sit right in his stomach. It doesn’t mix well with the uneasy feeling already brewing within. The lighthearted banter shared with Mikasa helps make things a little easier to swallow, things being his own unwanted emotions. God, he was doing it again. He was thinking much too hard about someone who wasn’t even present. Leave it to him to not show up when they’d all agreed. Eventually, Armin gets fed up, switching topics entirely, “Hey, Mikasa, it’s been a while now. Have you seen ..”

“Eren, you’re late. Again.”

Well, speak of the devil.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Calm your tits, we only agreed to meet at eight before morning classes and it’s,” the brunet pulls out his phone, ignorant of the amused stare from the raven and the irritated one from the blonde. He coughs awkwardly when the screen lights up, quickly pocketing the device again, “eight twenty.. Okay, so maybe I’m more than a few minutes late, I’m sorry. I slept through my fucking alarm, I only woke up like .. ten minutes ago. But hey, I’m here now, right?” Right. Asshole. The worst part about all of this was that if what Eren is saying was true and he really had only just woken up not even an hour ago, is that he looked great. His stupid hair tied back into a loose bun and his stupid shirt with the sleeves cut off, showcasing the tattoos running up his arms. His stupid muscles, his stupid face. He looked great, but Armin wouldn’t admit that now if he had a gun to his head.

Eren moves to take a seat at the table, Armin watches carefully. There are two empty seats, one beside the blonde and one beside Mikasa. Usually, he doesn’t have to think about which one the brunet will pick because he always chooses the former, always. But this time, he’s almost psychoanalyzing the expressions running across the taller boy’s visage, he actually appears conflicted. He moves almost hesitantly, and then… ah. He doesn’t sit next to Armin, instead playing himself next to the girl. He doesn’t acknowledge it as he settles into the seat, even if said girl gives him a quizzical look. She eyes the blonde, silently questioning him, but he doesn’t give anything away. His own expression remains neutral. No, it’s nonchalant, uncaring. That seems to make her even more confused, as if she were expecting a response of hurt or disappointment. He doesn’t give anything, even though he can feel his heart drop inside his chest.

The brunet doesn’t say anything about it, but Armin can notice the way he seems to shift in his seat. It’s very subtle, but he’s known him long enough to see it. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mikasa could too, though maybe the blonde is just looking way too hard. He’d always been one to find himself staring way too long at Eren and the rare times he is called out on it, the other has never seemed to have any real problem with it.

“Okay..” Armin has to stop himself from jumping out of his seat when the girl breaks the uncomfortable silence that had started to build and formulate in the air, causing it to seemingly thicken, threatening to crush him under the weight. He exhales, it’s a breath he hadn’t even been aware that he was holding, then he blinks. Teeth chew at the inside of soft cheeks as his attention is forced over to the raven. The force is much too harsh and he can feel the flesh tear beneath bone. He doesn’t care, nor does he stop. It might even egg him on, pressing harder into the new wound. He doesn’t flinch, letting the sudden throbbing in his mouth distract him from everything else swirling around within his chest, “Next time set more than one alarm or something. Y’know, like Armin. He sets like fifteen.”

“It’s not fifteen, more like five. I like to be prepared. It’s better than running late,” he punctuates the final few words with an aversion of his blue gaze, sending it right towards Eren. “It works.”

Mikasa rolls her eyes, a small smile playing on her painted lips. The other boy doesn’t say anything and the atmosphere seems to fall into another silence, though this one is a little more tolerable. Armin attributes that to Mikasa. The blonde’s digits graze the side of his coffee cup mindlessly before it’s picked up again and brought over to his lips, sipping. It isn’t hot anymore, more lukewarm. It isn’t as pleasant, but it doesn’t stop him from downing the rest of the liquid and squeezing the now empty cup in his hands as he releases an unnecessarily loud sigh. It does as intended and grabs the other’s attentions, “Right, ah, I have my first class pretty soon so I think I’ll go and prepare for that, ‘kay? I’ll catch you guys later?” He picks up his back from the table while he stands, slinging the strap around his shoulder. 

“See you, Armin. Have fun, and I mean that. Nerd,” Mikasa grins as she speaks, her hand coming up to deliver a little wave in his direction as his feet start to turn his body around. A chuckle is huffed out, his own wave being sent right back. Then finally he’s turned on his heels, inserting distance between himself and the duo remaining at the table. Only when he feels he’s far enough does he let his expression fall, and fall it does. When his features relax how they want, the blonde can tell he’s probably frowning, or maybe a scowl would be more accurate. That was awful. There was nothing even bad to report, yet it was awful.

Hands hold on tight to his bag strap as he walks and the sounds of his own steps are barely heard over the background chatter of people all around him. It makes for a distracting noise, kind of like tv static in an otherwise silent room. He doesn’t mind it. In fact, the blonde is letting himself sink into it, letting his shoulders relax, and letting himself take his thoughts away from--

“ ‘min!”

You’ve got to be fucking joking.

Armin’s wrist is grabbed and tight, effectively halting him in his tracks and making him whip his head around to the source of the interruption which, of course, is Eren. There’s a weird look on his face as he peers down at the shorter male, his brows furrowed in that way that makes him resemble a confused puppy. But the blonde’s eyes just roll, tugging his arm out of the other boy’s hold. It appears Eren isn’t expecting it, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough, because Armin is able to slip his arm back to his side and without being held back, he does turn to leave again. Without uttering a word.

“Armin, seriously? Hey, stop, asshole!”

He does. He doesn’t turn back around, but he stops. Fingers tighten to the point where knuckles start to turn white, “What do you want, Eren? I have a class to go to,” and he really hasn’t the patience to be dealing with anything. Like.. anything. He hears an annoyed huff coming from behind him and then unsurprisingly, the brunet is stepping right in front of him, blocking his path. Eyes roll.

“What do I want? What’s going on with you? You didn’t… you didn’t say a single word to me back there,” if Armin didn’t know any better, he’d almost say that the other boy seemed hurt. But that’d be crazy, if you were upset at being ignored, would you forego sending a simple text? Would you avoid sitting next to the person you apparently want attention from so bad? Even better.. would you push them away? Eren chuckles awkwardly, “it actually seems like you’re trying to get away from me. Look, if it’s about last night, you’ve gotta understand… I care about you, man, a whole lot. But we shouldn’t risk ruining what we have, y’know, our friendship. ”

The blonde interrupts before he can even think about adding anything else, leaning in toward Eren on his toes. His eyes meet the green-swarmed gaze, face a few inches away. His voice lowers, “I don’t want to talk about this, Eren. You made yourself perfectly clear. Now back the hell up and let me go to class before I start making a scene here in front of everyone.” A mix of different reactions flick over that opposing countenance before finally landing on something he’d describe as plain pissed off. The brunet throws his arms up, taking two steps back, muttering a ‘fine, whatever’ before walking away. Once more, Armin allows himself to release the breath he hadn’t known he’d been keeping. His steps pick up again. What did he want, an apology from Armin for hurting his little feelings? No, he wouldn’t get any of that. If anything, he’d have to feel just as much as the blonde, one way or another. And maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. For said blonde, anyway..

Chapter Text

In class, sitting somewhere that isn’t quite the front of the room but not the back either, somewhere around the middle, is Armin. As always, his head is down, face probably a little too close to both of his books, one for reading and the other for jotting down his thoughts lest he forget them. It isn’t uncommon at all for the boy to completely emerge himself in the subjects presented to him, and it all but blocks out the entire world around him, leaving only him. Which he supposes does make it a little hard for anyone else in the area to get his attention even if they wanted to. They could be talking to him and the words would go through one ear and out the other with little to know recognition. Like now, there’s a faint, muffled voice slowly trying to break its way through the barrier of his thoughts, persistent enough to eventually slip through the cracks and make the blonde’s face twitch as it’s begun to be registered.

“Armin.. hey.. Dude, you listenin’?” the answer to that question would be a definitive no considering he had zero idea what words had come only moments before and for how long his attention was being attempted to be grabbed. Who was even .. ah. 

The blonde lifts his head from the open book of messily scrawled notes on his desk. Beside him is the boy who’d been trying to pull him out of his intense focus for, well, he didn’t know how long. It makes sense as his blue eyes lay atop and graze over his form. Ashy toned hair, light brown eyes, and a sharp face stare back at him. Jean Kirstein. He should’ve known it’d been him, he was the only one who actually spoke to Armin in this class. He was probably the only one in the entire room aside from the professor who actually knew he existed. And he knew that wasn’t anyone's fault but his own. He kept to himself and focused most of his attention solely on schooling and getting everything just right, satiating his perfectionism. It left little time to make any more friends.

He’s not even sure that’s what he could call Jean. Were they even friends? Sure, they’d talk during class whenever the other boy would initiate conversation, they’d talk about the course work and how Jean didn’t do enough studying, Armin would help him out when he needed it and share some of his notes, they’d engage in small talk here and there. Hell, the blonde even had his phone number. But was that enough to make them friends? 

“Is anyone home?” A hand waves itself in front of Armin’s face and he suddenly realises that he’s been zoning out again, this time on the individual right in front of him. He feels himself start to flush at the fact, shaking his head to snap himself out of his daze. He’s cool, chill, completely normal. It’s what he tells himself to distract from the thought of how potentially creepy it was to be stared at without much of a thought behind his eyes. 

“Y- … Yes! Yes, sorry. What’s up, Jean?” For some reason that the blonde can’t seem to fathom, that response makes his classmate chuckle. It’s a low, almost rumbling sort of sound that vibrates in the other’s throat. It’s nice, he thinks. It’s a pleasant sound. Though it doesn’t much ease the question in the blonde’s mind. He’s sure he hadn’t said anything funny, nor was the tone he used anything that strange … was it? Whatever. 

“Jeez, I thought I’d never get through to you,” he grins, one of those ones that displays teeth from beneath stretched lips. It’s a smile that fits his face well, looking undeniably joyful, like nothing is weighing him down. Armin tries to meet him with a mirroring expression, he smiles somewhat, but he’s not confident it matches the standard Jean has set. He’s sure his is softer, weaker, and doesn’t meet his eyes. Of course, to the other boy, it probably looks normal. The blonde has gotten good at masking the way he really feels to anyone outside of himself. No one would be able to tell except for Armin, because he was acutely aware.

He closes his book and lays his hand on top of it. His attention is now where it’s been wanted for the past few minutes, “Did you need something?” The thing that happens often when the shorter male starts to speak transpires, it’s his hands moving out in front of him, gesturing about as an emphasis on each syllable spoken aloud, “because if you need a rundown or.. or some of my extra notes I was taking last night, I’m more than happy to share! See, what the professor was telling us yesterday was only the tip of the iceberg, and I know we’re sure to be briefed on it later, but I was already looking into the themes behind the works of famous authors and poets dating back--” he’s fully prepared to go on and on, bibliographies already in mind to provide Jean with more information than he necessarily needs, but he realises after a few silent seconds that no more words are coming out of his mouth. With the voidance of his words, his hands have also ceased their movements and they hang awkwardly in front of his lanky form. The boy blinks quizzically, eyebrows furrowing and then he finally looks down and finds the reasoning behind his silence. 

There is, in fact, a hand covering his mouth and subsequently silencing the blonde. The expanse of that palm is large enough that it almost fits over the entire lower half of his face. Now very much aware of this situation, a glare is sent right into the brown eyes of that grinning face in front of him, feeling the beginning of heat flush across his face. this smug bastard. Jean notices the shift right away, eyes lighting up with something he can't quite explain, “Sorry, man. It’s not that I don’t like listening to you talk or whatever, but I gotta tell you something.” It’s only after he voices that to Armin that he lets his hand drop and go back to leaning his forearm against the back of his chair. The blonde lingers in the silence he was forced into. He takes a breath.

“Right.. Tell me what?” his phone buzzes in his pocket once, then twice. It makes his fingers twitch with the urge to pull it out and see who the hell it is, but there’s only two people it really could be. Mikasa, who likely wouldn’t text him knowing he has a class anyway. Unless it was some sort of emergency, in which case she’d just call .. or it was Eren, which after the way the pair had parted only an hour or so ago, Armin isn’t sure what he could possibly have to say. But he isn’t going to bring out his phone now anyway, whoever it is will have to wait. For one, as previously mentioned, he is in the middle of a class and was already pushing his luck with engaging conversation with Jean as he is. And then two, it’d be a little fucking rude when he’d finally agreed to hear the other boy out with .. whatever it was he was about to say, which could be anything knowing the boisterous individual.

“Well,” he starts speaking and already the blue-eyed boy isn’t sure he likes where this is going, even without any provided context whatsoever, “tonight there’s this thing. A party over at Histora’s place, y’know, that blonde chick? Super hot. Whatever, everyone’s going, I think you should tag along, lil’ man!” That gut feeling had been so, so very correct and as it turned out, he didn’t like where this had ended up at all. There isn’t a single universe out there where Armin could imagine someone looking at him and thinking he had a single partygoer bone in that body of his. He didn’t party, and the last one he had attended was in high school, and that was only the very end of it because he’d gotten a call from a very drunk Eren saying he needed a ride home. He didn’t go out much at all, he hardly even drank. There was no reason why Jean should be asking the class nerd who kept to himself to go to a party hosted by someone everyone knew, someone popular who had connections. Jesus, Historia Reiss… There was no way she even knew Armin’s name, which was funny considering he’d heard once or twice that the two of them appeared very similar, like they could be related.

But back to reality … Armin was staring back at Jean like he’d just grown two heads, blinking slowly as if that’d suddenly give him all the world’s answers. It didn’t.

“I don’t think that’s really a good idea, parties aren’t exactly my scene.” He’s only being honest when he delivers the statement with a shortened shrug. Even so, the taller boy seems to visibly deflate in his seat. Was he disappointed? Had he actually been expecting the blonde to agree to attend? “I just mean… I’m super busy with studying, and I’m too awkward for gatherings like that, y’know? I wouldn’t know anyone there, anyway. And my grandpa, he’d probably worry if i was out too late.” Excuse after excuse, Armin felt like he was being a little excessive. He could’ve probably just declined with one of those rejections, but the piling on made it seem like he’d rather do anything but go to that party. Which was true, but he didn’t want to seem rude.

Jean is blinking slowly, like he’s processing the information gathered from the shorter boy. At first, the blonde thinks this is the end of the conversation and he was being let go to get back to his rushed notes and mindless scribbles, but it apparently isn’t the case.

“Nah, you’re too hard on yourself. I don’t think you’re awkward,” he starts but is immediately interrupted by Armin giving him a look derived of raised brows and doubt, “I don’t think you’re that awkward. You don’t gotta know anyone there, think of it as… an opportunity to come out of your shell, huh? You know me, I’ll be there, and you don’t have to worry. You’re allowed to leave whenever you want to, no pressure to stay or drink or anything like that. Just, come on, give it a chance?” Brown eyes peer at him through blinks, and now Jean is fluttering his lashes and smiling at him expectantly. Christ… The blonde groans, turning back to his desk and abandoned work. He purses his lips, trying not to show his amusement when he hears a small huff from beside him. It’s obvious this was taken as Armin’s answer, but ..

“Fine,” he mutters quietly while already finding his abandoned page in the lined book at his desk. The pen in his hand is about to hit the paper when he sees the figure in his peripheral sit up some, that head turning to face the blonde as if not quite sure he’d really heard what he did, “The party. I’ll go, but not for long. I’ll stop by.”

A strong hand slaps across his back and effectively winds the shorter of the two in a matter of seconds, shooting a glare back at Jean who only brings his hands up quickly to feign surrender, but he doesn’t seem all too apologetic if the grin on his face is any indication. “Fuck yeah, dude! Oh, you’re gonna have a great time. If you really don’t know anyone else who’ll be there, I can always hook you up with some of my friends, they’re super chill. I’ll text you all the details, and I can even pick you up on the way if you want, ‘kay?”

It’s a flurry of information that the blonde isn’t used to taking in, but he thinks he gets most of it. So he nods, responding with a mere thumbs up before finally, finally , getting back to something he understands. Oh, if only his social life were as easy to navigate as historical literature, but that’d be far too good to be true. 

The rest of class passes like a breeze and there isn’t much more conversation from anyone that happens during aside from the nudge at his shoulder and the gesturing of the phone in Jean’s hand when he packs up his things and leaves the room. It’s only met with another thumbs up and a crooked smile. He’ll check all the details for tonight when he has a second to breathe. 

But it does remind him of his own device burning a hole in his pocket. With his own bag back to being secured over his shoulder, Armin slips his way out of the classroom and immediately digs around for his phone. He seems to fumble for a while, and maybe it’s because he’s walking much too quickly, maybe it’s because he has no idea what’s waiting for him when he turns the damn thing on, but eventually he clicks it on and watches the screen brighten.

12 Messages from Eren.

His tongue darts out to wet suddenly dry lips. That many? Honestly, the blonde isn’t sure whether to be pissed that Eren felt it was okay to spam him with messages during his class, or flattered that he’d been thinking about him enough to send more than one or two. He shakes his head. No, either way, it was uncalled for and after their spat earlier, nothing he has to say can be any good. But alas, his thumb taps at the cluster of notifications and eyes immediately scan the screen when the full line of texts pops into view.

[Eren]

armin r u going to talk 2 me after class or just keep ignoring me

you literally cant be mad at me for this

didnt even do shit

dont be such a fucking girl about it ur being dramatic

can u get over it

They just go on for a little while. It only makes Armin snort, it was exactly what he’d expected. The brunet doesn’t understand why he’d be upset and somehow starts to take it out on Armin. But whatever. Everything was casual for him, wasn’t it? Casual and meaningless. Friends doing as friends normally do. A frustrated sigh escapes the blonde’s lips and it’s too loud as a few passerbyers glace up to blink at him, some concerned. He only waves them off with an awkward chuckle. He blames Eren for that, too. A quick reply is typed. It only takes but a second.

[Armin]

K.

And once more, his phone is pocketed. There was no much more he wanted to say and so much more he wanted to express, but he didn’t want to make a complete fucking fool out of himself. Maybe soon he’d find his chance, but for now, this is the least that his friend deserved. He could take a little silent treatment. It felt good, actually, to have that little bit of power, to not respond with anything more and leave Eren wondering. It was good, and only the very beginning of what would be shown to the other boy before he comes to his senses and realises his mistake. He smiles as feet carry him away and to his next destination. It’s a slow spreading, wide sort of smile that sits genuinely on his face. It’s bordering on a grin when he feels his phone vibrate again, and he knows who it is. He won’t answer until later tonight, if at all. Who knows? He’d just have to be left high and dry, wondering and waiting.

Besides, he did have a party to think about getting ready for.

Chapter Text

K. K? The look he gives his phone is one that could kill, brows furrowed and teeth clenched hard enough to make his jaw start to ache. He knows that sending him text after text, knowing the other boy was in class, maybe wasn't the most considerate move. No, he was aware it was a bit of a dick move, he hopes he’d remembered to put his phone on silence. But even so .. whoo the fuck just replies with ‘k’? Not Armin, he usually strives for at little more than that at the very least. The smart bastard barely even shortens his words unless he's in a rush .. or upset. Fucking hell. Well, Eren had gotten that much from his little spat this morning, but he’d got nothing more from the blonde than a scowl and a cold shoulder. 

He knew why. He was an idiot but he wasn't fucking stupid. It’d have to be what he’d confronted the other boy about a few nights back now. Not that he wanted to recall it, his stomach did unhappy little flips just thinking about it. Thinking about it only made him envision the way Armin’s expression slowly started to crack when he realised what it was he was being told, the way his lip started to quiver subtly in a way that Eren was sure the blonde thought he was able to hide. He wasn't.

But maybe what he didn't get was what made it such a big deal. It didn't have to be a big deal. They were friends and they'd always been friends, there wasn't .. It was being blown right the fuck out of proportion. Armin had been taking their little arrangement too seriously. It was just an opportunity for them both to find the comfort of another's touch and blow off some steam. It wasn't anything more than that and Eren had never expressed otherwise.

So why, he asks himself, does it hurt so bad to think about the way the blonde’s features had started to tighten up like he was about to cry? And why, he asks soon after, does he feel so wrong? It isn't to say he regrets putting distance between them, because he still thinks it’d been the best idea for them. Eren didn't even like boys. He didn't, did he? He was straight. Armin had been the exception and it was strictly platonic, even knowing that his friend liked boys, he couldn't have felt that way about Eren. So .. ah, fuck it. His head hurts, a sudden dull throbbing in his skull. He couldn't keep thinking about this. So, forcefully and without any sense of grace, that phone is shut off, the screen going black and voiding the text doing his head in. It’s abandoned in the pocket of his jacket. Out of sight, out of mind.

Whatever. If that’s how it was going to be played, sure. He’d leave Armin to get over his little hissy fit by himself. He had better things to do. Things that certainly didn’t include thinking about his phone, as if that’d suddenly supply him with a new message from the blonde. He had classes too, and after saying a goodbye to Mikasa who was headed to the opposite side of their campus, he was making his way over there.

“Yeager!” Oh, fucking great. That voice is recognised in an instant, making his bad mood turn foul. His head whips around to find the source and there he is, as expected and wearing a disgustingly smug smile, Jean Kirstein. Asshole, he went out of his way to call Eren out without any reason. Unless that reason was to piss him off, because then that’d make sense.

“Kirstein,” he starts with a frown and for some bizarre reason, the other boy takes that as an invitation to waltz on over and drape and arm around the brunet’s shoulder. He could punch him in the dick if it weren’t for them being amongst their peers. He didn’t feel like getting another speech from a professor about how fighting would distract them from their learning or hinder development toward their future goals. That was bullshit, he could kick Jean’s ass and still ace all his classes if he wanted to. “What the fuck do you want? Don’t you have some races to run? I’m sure at least one sorry shit would’ve bet on your ass, horse face.”

That makes the taller boy twitch which only makes Eren grin. It wasn’t overtly hard to get under his skin, you only had to find the weak points. A smack is felt right behind his ear, making his head fall forward. That asshole. The shorter male’s expression twists into something of a scowl, smile forgotten. They really didn’t seem to stay around the brown eyed boy.

“Shut your face, you don’t have to be a dick, y’know. It doesn’t look good on you, takes away from your pretty face,” Jean teases, teeth flashing with his ear to ear smirk. Oh, and the bastard is so lucky that Eren’s cleched fists stay by his sides. He’s about to speak up again and demand to know what the hell this whole exchange is about, but thankfully he’s beaten to it. Finally. “Party tonight, big dog. Historia’s place. You’re gonna be there, right? ‘Course you are,” he pauses only to nudge an elbow into the brunet’s side, right below the ribs, “literally everyone else is.”

Party? Eren thinks he might’ve heard something about the event. It was hard not to when people didn’t know how to keep their damn mouths shut. He swears he knows far too much about his peers, even those he barely speaks to. Seriously, he doesn’t need to know about cheating boyfriends or irregular bowel movements. Back to the party, he hadn’t necessaily planned on going. Drinking in the comfort of his own room seemed far easier than getting smashed in a house full of bastards he barely tolerated or opening random doors to find people fucking over the nearest surface they could find. It was too much of a hassle.

“No,” he forcelly pushes that large mass off of his shoulders, “I’m gonna stay home. Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

Jean’s hands quickly lift to his sides in mock defense, but that look on his face says all that it needs to. He shrugs his shoulders all nonchalant like, almost as if he were expecting that answer from Eren. It makes him clench his jaw, grinding his teeth, because where did he get off acting like that? He didn’t know shit about him. There were very few people who did, the two coming to mind being Mikasa and Armin. Not this jackass.

“Damn, I didn’t know you were that lame. I mean, of course you are. But you’re gonna stay home all by yourself?” The other boy laughs, it’s loud, the noise coming straight from his chest. “Dude, even Armin is cooler than you. Shouldn’t be surprised.”

Armin? It was as if his thoughts were being read and the blonde boy was plucked straight from the confines of his mind, plopped straight into the middle of the conversation. This, of course, makes the brunet perk up, his teal shaded gaze boring holes right into the opposing pools of brown. That’s also when he remembers.. Right. Jean and Armin share a class. So, what, they talk? What the hell would they have to talk about? The two of them were completely different, there’d be nothing there! And sure, he knew they’d exchange thoughts about their dorky little class every now and then, but that’s where it ended.

“Fuck do you mean he’s cooler? What do you know about Armin?”

“What I mean is, he actually knows how to have fun. He’s gonna be there tonight, believe it or not. I think it’ll be nice, seein’ him let loose for once. Poor guy doesn’t need to be studying on a Friday night, man. ‘m surprised he said yes.” Armin is going to a party. Armin hates parties, they aren’t his thing. He stays home with his books, texting Eren whenever he comes across a part that’s funny or sad or… He’s going to a party? A party that Jean asked him to? What the fuck? It shouldn’t piss him off, yet here he is with a hard frown tugging at his brows and those fists so tight that nails start to bite at his palms. So the blonde can ignore texts from Eren during class, but he has no problem discussing after school plans? “Oh, right, whether or not you actually show up, I don’t give a shit. Just tell Mikasa thats she should stop by, I’d love to see her there.” And with a wink, paired together with a cheshire cat like expression, the taller boy just walks away. Just like that. What the fuck just happened?

Whatever, all of that was stupid. He doesn’t care if Armin is going to a fucking party without him, he’s an adult, he can do whatever the fuck he wants. He doesn’t care that he’ll be surrounded by people that weren’t him, laughing, talking, having fun. He doesn’t care. Through the pattern of not caring, he vaguely remembers that he still has a class to get to, one he’ll definitely be late to now thanks to Jean’s interruption. He knew he was definitely going to get reprimanded for that, whether his tardiness was his fault or not, even if it was only by a few minutes. Having a best friend who was probably-definitely-most-likely upset at him, being late to class, and having to see Jean Kirstein’s face… Shit, things could not get worse.

With a heavy sigh injected with irritation, he spins around to go head back in the direction of his class. His steps are long and quick to hopefully cut down on any more time wasted. And while he feels he’s definitely going a little faster than normal, it’s perhaps not the best idea, not when he doesn’t have enough time to see the girl he’s about to run straight into through the crowd of other stressed out college students. He doesn’t even know he’s going to bump into anyone until the coffee she’s holding ends up out of the cup and all over him instead. Nope. He jinxed himself. It got worse, of course it got worse. Eren can hear her start to apolgise profusely, offering to help him clean up. He doesn’t know why, it wasn’t even her fault. If anything, he should be the one saying sorry, maybe offering to buy her a new drink while she’s at it. He doesn’t. He insists he’s fine, trying to step away from the scene he’s made. People are definitely staring, a few have gathered around to see what’s happened. None of them stick out, they’re all unimportant, background faces he’ll probably never even see again. So he doesn’t care if they gawk or point, if they whisper to their friends about the guy covered in coffee. Still, he spins around, trying to leave.

A glimpse of blonde hair catches his eye. There are a ton of blondes of campus, realistically it could be anyone. It’s not anyone. He only sees him for a moment, hidden behind a few of those bystanders. Blue eyes are spotted, they’re looking directly at him. Staring, unwavering. And .. he swears the bastard looks almost pleased. Satisfied. His path changes and he starts manoevering through people even with his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his chest, even with more and more time ticking into his current class. But as quick as it had appeared, the flash of golden locks is gone. He’s gone, and he’s alone again. Even in a crowd of tens.. maybe more, Eren is left to himself and his coffee stained clothes.

For the second time that day he has to ask himself, what the fuck just happened? And also… what was he going to wear to this stupid party now?